by O. M. Grey
“Dreadful, indeed. That’s what I thought”—especially since I knew Nicholas—“She accused Nick of all sorts of heinous acts, and, come to think of it, I think she accused me as well. Preposterous.”
“She sounds mad, of which I have no doubt, the fraud. How could she possibly know, even if it was true? Balderdash, all hocus pocus nonsense.”
“That’s what I said! How could she know? But she said she did know these things, and the way she looked at me. The things she knew, Chastity. There are certainly a lot of fakes out there, but this woman was genuine, I believe. No, I am not naive.”—the nerve of calling me such had sealed her fate, my mind made up—“Not in the least. Give me some credit, woman, but this harlot Madame Nadine knew far too much to be a fake. It was unsettling, to say the least.”
“Oh, Arthur,” she said, reaching out across the table and touching my hand. “I’ll be sure to get your mind off of it later. I promise.” Her coy smile sent blood traveling downward, but I found myself pulling my hand from her touch. “What is it, Arthur? You’re scaring me. Is everything all right?”
“Everything is just fine,” I lied. “Finish your dinner.”
“Arthur. Tell me. Please. If we’re to be together, then we must be honest with one another. Know each other, intimately, and not just in body.”
The very thought would have harrowed my very soul, if still had had one. “No, Chastity. Actually. Everything is not all right. I cannot do this anymore. With you.” I sat back, stone-faced, daring her to defy me or argue.
“What?” she said, lips parted in surprise. “Whatever do you mean, Arthur?”
“Us. I mean, there can be no more us, Chastity. I’m in love with Avalon, and this is all just too wrong. There. I’ve said it.” My flat voice pained her as much as my words, after having been so tender and loving.
No mind. She was a grown woman. Surely she understood it was a romp, after all. Nothing lasts forever.
“Is that so?” She pulled her lips in tight until there was nothing to them but a thin pink line. “All the business about a proper courtship? Was that all a lie, Arthur?”
“I meant it at the time.”
“You meant it at the time,” she said, her voice a broken whisper. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Looking down, she took a deep breath and composed herself. When she looked back up, there was no sign of hurt, which I found a little disappointing. I did like to see the pain on their faces, knowing how much losing me hurt them. How much I meant to them. Hardness, even hatred was the only thing behind this woman’s eyes. That, and perhaps a touch of inexplicable joy. Strange. Twisting her napkin in her hands, she spoke, hostility dripping from each syllable, “You child. I truly should have known someone as handsome as you would be a complete dolt.”
“Now see here.” My whisper was harsh, but it was a whisper. Those at nearby tables stopped eating and looked over at me. The air became stale around me, making it distasteful to breathe. My throat clenched before I could say another word, but she had already started speaking again, interrupting me.
“Enough, Arthur. Go back and play with your toys, as that’s all we are to you, isn’t it? Well, I am not a toy, dear boy. Not in the least. A romp would’ve been just fine with me, but then you began making love to me, telling me I was so much more than that. How dare you awaken love for your selfish desires, when you are not prepared to follow through.” She stood, facing me full on, hands on hips, not caring that people around stared at her defiant stance and raised voice. “Figure out what you want before involving another heart, Arthur. You are quite old enough to take responsibility for your actions, or perhaps you’re not. You are a coward and a spoiled little boy.”
Second time someone told me that today.
She threw her napkin down upon her half-eaten dinner. The entire restaurant had stopped eating and chatting. All eyes were on us. Now it was my face that burned in shame, something I didn’t feel often. No. I didn’t like it one bit.
“One day, quite soon, I suspect, you will learn a very harsh lesson, Arthur York. Hearts are not trifles to be toyed with. The price for doing so is higher than you will wish to pay. By then it shall be too late. Someone will hold you accountable, Arthur, and I suspect it is long overdue. Good night and goodbye.”
Silence followed, and not only because Chastity had stormed away. Not only because the entire restaurant had frozen mid-meal to watch my humiliation, because they—one by one, two by two—went back to their dinners and conversations, with only a lingering glance or two in my direction.
Their lips moved again. Their cutlery hit their plates. Their glasses clinked over the candles.
Still, no sound reached my ears, not even the hiss of my own breath.
Nothing.
Chastity’s gone. Avalon’s gone.
I could start again. I always did start again.
Over and over and over.
Then I saw it. The pattern. The one Thomas had mentioned.
Over and over and over.
Each woman, a placeholder for the next, for the last. Dating back centuries to Catherine. What made Catherine so perfect?
Too inexperienced? Too pious? Too needy?
We were in love, yes, but we were barely adults. Frivolity. We had forever. King and Queen of England, that was our future.
Then I died.
She still became Queen, and I hated her for it. I longed for what we lost, such a short time together. Ever since, when I tried to love again, I looked for the perfection of an imperfect dead woman. Long dead. She represented some perfect love I fancied I once had. We were but children, weren’t we? At least in the ways of love. It was new and exciting. We were rich and powerful. We had the world at our command.
Then I died, or was reborn into this death.
I hated her for it.
Yet, she was perfection, wasn’t she? We had stayed up nights talking and laughing and fighting and loving together. I knew her better than she knew herself, and she knew me better than I knew myself. I respected her. We shared our thoughts. We shared everything, as equals.
I didn’t control her, ever, nor she me.
We shared.
My eyes stared at nothing. The waiter came and spoke, but it didn’t register.
We shared everything. That was the difference. I loved her because she was perfect. She was perfect in her imperfections. I loved her and cherished her because I knew her, I was invested in her. We were invested in each other.
Catherine was far from easy, but every ounce of effort was worth it.
I had never put forth such effort again, never invested myself in another person. I expected every new woman to be Catherine, but they weren’t Catherine. No one was or would ever be.
I suddenly realized I didn’t want Avalon to be Catherine. I wanted Avalon to be Avalon, and I wanted to know her imperfections, her thoughts, her dreams. I wanted to hear her opinions and share mine, without control.
Oh, Avalon!
“What have I done?” I said to the waiter, who was now shaking my shoulder. The Maitre’D came over and spoke in worried tones. “I have to fix this,” I said to them, then stood and pushed past them.
“But sir,” the Maitre’D said. “Your bill!”
I spun around and around in the middle of the restaurant, dancing with myself, laughing into the air. Pulling pound notes from my pockets, I tossed them up in the air and let them rain down on those around me. Gasps of delight and horror mixed with their laughter, my own hysterical laughter.
“I can fix this!” I exclaimed. “I know now. I understand now! Avalon, my love, I’m coming for you!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CONSTANCE
There was nothing more callous and ruthless than a privileged American man.
Well, except for me, of course.
“I think we should take a step back,” Jeffries said, holding my hands and gazing into my eyes. Only this time, unlike the others, there was no affection. No love. Just callous emptiness.
“It was, but I’ve realized you’re not what I’ve been looking for after all, so we really need to slow things down. Perhaps see each other less.”
“Is there someone else?”
“Not yet, but I’ve been getting to know someone a bit better over the last week or two, and I’d like to see where that goes, so…” Silence.
Then, snuffle. Two blinks. Head tilt. He raised his eyebrows, expecting me to say something, and waited.
“So? Just like that.”
No affect. Two more blinks. Cold silence.
“But, just two nights ago,” I continued. “You said you adored me, that you were basking in my love. You worshipped every pore, explored every inch of my body.”
“Yes.”
“And today you want to step back.”
“That’s right.”
“But…I don’t understand.”
“What’s there to understand, Cyndi? This has been lovely, true, but I know now it’s not right. Not right for me. I have to be true to myself.”—Derisive snuffle—“I know it’s not forever with you, so I’m moving on. I mean, I’m not saying I never want to see you again. Nothing like that. I do love you, after all. For now, anyway. We can still get together now and again. You are delicious between the sheets, but I require my space. You’re just too much, too needy.”
“What about tonight? We were supposed to…” Tears burned the corners of my eyes as I looked toward the bedroom, and I watched his face as he watched my nose turn red and the first tear fall. There was a triumph there, behind those empty eyes. Pleasure.
“I still want to love you tonight. Honestly, Cyndi. I can’t understand why you’re so upset? You knew from the beginning I wouldn’t be tied down by any woman. So, no surprise. It’s not like I’m leaving you or anything. Not yet. You don’t get this”—he said, hands sweeping down his body—“to yourself, no one does.”
“This weekend. It’s New Years, and we were going to bring in the New Year together. Kissing at midnight. What about that?”
“Let’s not do that.”
Blank stare. Cold Silence.
“What?”
“Let’s not do that.” Smirk. “I mean, if we’re going to take a step back, Sunday feels like a good time to start, don’t you think? No use putting off the inevitable.”
“Are you going to be with her? This new woman?”
“Now, Cyndi.” His chiding voice spoke as if I was a petulant child. Condescending. Cruel. Callous. He squeezed my hands and literally looked down his nose at me. “Situations change. Surely you know that. Don’t take it so personally. You’re a big girl. People change. Feelings change. Besides, you know how I feel about jealousy. What if I am to be with her? That’s no concern of yours. Not now, not ever. You have no claim over me and my will.”
Tears streamed fully now. I bowed my head and watched my tears make perfect little wet circles on my grey cotton skirt. Even with all my preparation. Even with knowing who he was. It still hurt. But nothing like it would to others who didn’t see his true face.
For me, it stung.
For Cynthia, it was devastating.
“You’re embarrassing yourself, Cyndi.” He patted my head like I was his spaniel, like I was Polly. “Are we to love each other tonight or not? Will you be here in this moment with me or will you worry about the future? This moment is all we ever have, and we are here together. See? No reason to cry. We’re here forever in this moment. Love me tonight. Your choice, Cynthia. Either way works for me.”
“Yes, please.” My voice managed those two words through the grief of being pushed aside so callously. Cynthia felt confusion around this sudden change mixed with a hope of somehow fixing it. Any woman in love would have looked for a way to fix it. Something, anything to take away the last hour and make it like it was.
He counted on it.
He counted on Cyndi’s compassion, her fear, her determination to not lose love, so he led me into the bedroom, and laid me down on the bed.
And I cried.
He started undressing me.
And I cried.
He licked up my inner thighs and higher, moans of pleasure mixed with cries of torment. Tongue swirling, eyes locked with mine, until I had to look away in my despair, seeing his pleasure in my pain.
And I cried.
He climbed on top of me and entered, slithering inside me. Gliding. Thrusting. Mocking.
And I cried.
As he slid into me again and again, I knew it was the last time.
And I cried.
He knew Cynthia was terrified, that she would do anything not to lose him. To make everything all right again, and he exploited that, gaining double pleasure, first from the sexual sensation and second from witnessing his masterpiece: complete submission to his command. Complete fear, bending to his will, to his pleasure, to his every desire. Arrant, absolute pleasure emanated from his every pore, filling his void with my pain.
Complete destruction at his command.
He reveled in it.
He thought he had me. He thought he defeated me, broken me, in all his power. He thought he had just set up another lap dog, begging for scraps, glad to take any morsel tossed her way.
He thought wrong.
I flipped him over, removing him. Never again would he have the privilege of entering my, or any woman’s, body. The motion was so quick, he didn’t have time to respond before I had him pinned against the wall, unable to move.
Then, the slits. Jaw clenched. He didn’t even try to move, at first.
“On second thought,” he said. “I think I am rather done with you. Perhaps it’s best.”
“You’re going to pay for the pain you’ve caused so many women, and you’re going to suffer as they have, as deeply as they have, for as long as they have, until the amount of your suffering matches those you have destroyed.”
"Please.” It was not a supplication, but rather a snide reminder of his superiority. “I loved those women. Every one. I gave them untold pleasures. Ecstasy like they've never known. I was a gift to those ladies, showing them what was possible."
"A gift. These untold pleasures. This sexual ecstasy, which I've experienced firsthand, Mr. Jeffries, so I know you are quite skilled. I see how you use women, exploit and violate them with such skill, they don’t even know what’s happening. I see you, Mr. Jeffries, the real you.”
“How could you…? We’ve only just met a few months back.”
“Oh no, Mr. Jeffries. I have been the last four women you’ve bedded, or should I say used and discarded over the past year.” As I spoke, I shifted from one to the next, reveling in his horror.
Now he tried to escape, tensing his muscles against the invisible restraints, and found he could not move. My will kept him still, always my will be done. My abilities far outmatched his. With a snap of my fingers, he could be a puddle of muck on the floor if I willed it, but annihilation was too good for this monster. His arms shuddered, trying with all his might, but a wave of my hand had him spread out, arms and legs stretched to each corner of the bed. I stood up and donned my skirt and blouse, leaving him naked and exposed. “I know you’re quite skilled and you think—you lie to yourself—that you’re truly connecting with these women, but you are well aware of the pain you cause, deep down. Aren’t you, Jeffries? Didn’t you say to me—women got hurt? Yes, I believe you did. In fact, you told me four separate times, just as you turned on the tears four separate times to gain my trust at the beginning of this ‘relationship.’ Oh, Mr. Jeffries, I know your kind all too well. I’ve been around for far too long, and I’m well aware of just how truly aware you are. The violence, I didn’t expect from you, though, but it was so cunningly disguised, along with the continuous manipulation. Most, I fear, don’t even recognize what you do to them. Their bodies know, and they suffer as if it was as overtly violent as a dockside ravishing in the dark, but they can’t und
erstand why. They blame themselves, and you help them do that, don’t you Mr. Jeffries? Added agony on top of the assaults, in addition to the trauma.”
“I took them—you—them to places they’ve never been, showed them ecstasy and spiritual awakening.”
“Can you even hear yourself? The arrogance! Are you suggesting the orgasms you gave these women afforded you control over them? Enabled you to treat them and discard them as you will? Gave you the right to ravish them and destroy them? And love, sir? It is quite clear you do not know the meaning or the power of that word."
“I did love them! All of them.”
“Love. Love to you is the fear in their eyes. Love to you is control. It’s what makes it so easy for you, so delicious. I was wrong, actually, you quite obviously know the power of it, and you exploit that power just as you exploit all those women. They love and trust you. They are bound to you, body, heart, and soul. Your words and actions coupled with such ecstasy create such a profound bond with a woman. You understand the depth of that created bond all too well, don't you? Yes. I believe you do. Of course you do. You count on it. It is part of your game. It’s why poor Polly trails after you like a spaniel, begging for scraps.”
"I helped those women. I've done nothing wrong. They're adults and can make their own decisions. They are responsible for their own choices, their own emotions."
“But you also made them responsible for yours. For your actions, your choices, your emotions. If you are even capable of true emotion, of empathy or compassion. I rather think not, actually, else you couldn’t have discarded those women so, used and ruined. Did you know Miss MacInyre killed herself? Took a dram of poison rather than end up in Bedlam like Miss Franklin. So distraught after you tired of them, after you tossed them aside after ruining them. One day, so loving and affectionate with your promises and such, the next so cruel and degrading. They suffered dearly, and there are plenty more. Shall I go through the names? Those now living on the streets, unable to feed the children you left them with. Some afflicted with the pox you gave to them. Unable to marry. Disowned by their families. Is this your gift to them, sir?"