Darkest (The Dark Side)

by Barker, Ashe

  And an hour later Tom and Rosie have also arrived and all three of us are perched on a row of hard plastic chairs in the A & E waiting area at Airedale General Hospital, exchanging platitudes and waiting for an update. We don’t have long to wait—this is a nice quiet Tuesday afternoon, not a rowdy Saturday night after chucking out time, so waiting times are down to less than an hour. The casualty charge nurse comes bustling over with the good news.

  “We’ve got the X-rays back. It’s a fractured hip, but no other damage. We’ll need to set it. That means surgery. But not until tomorrow. She’s going to be admitted to Ward 14. Do you want a word before we send her up?”

  “Is she awake then?”

  “Oh yes. And chirpy with it. She’s asking about a ‘Rosie’.”

  “That’s me!” Rosie bounces up from her chair. “That’s me. Can I see my nana now?”

  The charge nurse bends to look Rosie in the eye. He’s obviously well used to dealing with excitable little girls. “You can come in and say hello, just for a minute. And you’ll have to be brave because sometimes it seems a bit scary in here. Your nana has a lot of tubes all around her, and machines that make funny noises. But all those things are to help her feel better. It looks really odd but you mustn’t worry about any of the things in the room.” He glances up at Tom and I. “Are you relatives, too?”

  “Er…”

  “Yes,” Tom interrupts me, his tone brooking no argument. The charge nurse just nods and gestures for us to follow him. We troop along in his wake and find ourselves in a small cubicle, dominated by a high bed where Mrs Richardson—Grace—is propped up against a huge pile of pillows. She’s attached to a drip, and has one of those huge crocodile clips on the end of her finger to monitor her pulse. Quite irrelevantly, it conjures up images of a nipple clamp—maybe I’ve been around Nathan Darke for too long. Or not long enough.

  Rosie’s chin is just about level with the edge of the bed so Tom picks her up for a proper look.

  “Ooh look, all these visitors.” Despite her ordeal Grace is all beaming smiles, reaching out to stroke Rosie’s cheek. And, overcome by the relief, I suppose, Rosie immediately bursts into tears. The charge nurse pushes a box of tissues into my hands and leaves us to it.

  I’m dabbing at Rosie’s tears and that diverts my attention briefly, but not for long. Back there in Nathan’s bedroom I was terrified, we all were, and now that Grace does appear to be all right we’re all desperate to know what happened.

  “Are you okay? Really? You scared us to death. We came back and found you out cold on the bedroom floor. What on earth happened to you?” Fear and relief make a heady combination, and my tone is probably sharper than I intend. Even so, three pairs of curious eyes are turned on the invalid, all waiting for an explanation. Mrs Richardson looks distinctly embarrassed, plucking at the crisp white sheet tucked around her.

  “Oh, it’s so silly really. I was stripping the bed to do the washing. I pulled the duvet off and sort of got my feet tangled in it and tripped over. I’ve no idea how I managed it. I went down hard, on my hip. I knew I’d busted something and I didn’t dare move. I could hear Barney barking downstairs. Then I blacked out. I think I came round a little bit, once or twice. I remember hearing voices, and someone holding my hand. But the next thing I knew, properly and consciously, I was in this bed, wired up to all these gadgets. And I didn’t even make you two your dinner. I’ve a nice bit of lamb, still in the fridge…”

  “A duvet! You got your feet tangled in a duvet!” I can’t keep the astonishment out of my voice. The laughter comes hard on its heels. You couldn’t make this up.

  “Well, it’s a big duvet. King size.” The defensive response is followed by a few moments of stunned silence before all four of us collapse, howling with laughter.

  The charge nurse comes back with more tissues and tells us to keep the noise down. We do try, but the cocktail of relief and hilarity is powerful, intoxicating, and hard to control. After another half-hour or so of grumpy looks and shushing by the hard-pressed A & E staff a porter bustles in our direction to wheel Mrs Richardson up to the ward. We take that as our cue to leave so we all troop out and make for home.

  Tom’s driving us in Mrs Richardson’s car, and I text Nathan with the news.

  Hi. Little problem at home, Grace fell and broke hip. She’s OK, in hospital. Rosie’s fine. More later. Eva

  Less than three minutes after I hit ‘send’ my phone is ringing. It’s Nathan. And he’s frantic. I answer, to be bombarded with a barrage of questions. What happened? How? When? Where? I answer as best I can, and he starts to calm down once he realises that matters are under some semblance of control in his absence. When I get to the bit about the duvet I try to be serious, honestly, but know it sounds ridiculous.

  Attacked by a duvet, wrestled to the ground by a king-size, duck-down-filled monster. Out cold for hours, likely to be laid up for weeks.

  Ignoring my unseemly giggles Nathan is all efficiency and business, assuming control again. Always the Dom…

  “I’ll get back as soon as I can but it won’t be for a few more days at least. Can you hold the fort for a little while, until I sort something out for Rosie?” His composure seems to wither somewhat as he realises how short on options he is. “Shit! Tom’s on his own, and he’s got the farm to run. There’s Mrs Appleyard in the village, I suppose. Maybe Daniel can help out. I’ll ring him…”

  “Whoah! Ring Daniel? What Daniel? And why?”

  “Daniel. Dan. My brother. He’s a vet, in the Lake District. He’ll have to drive down or maybe you could drop Rosie off up there…”

  “Why? I mean, I’m sure he’s lovely and we could go see him if Rosie fancies that, but we’re fine here. There’s no need for anyone to drive anywhere. Except you, back from the airport, as soon as you’re able to manage it.”

  “I can’t ask you to look after Rosie full-time. You were hired as a part-time music tutor, not a full-time nanny. It’s not fair to expect it of you—”

  “It’s got nothing to do with jobs. I’m your…friend.” I settle for the most innocuous word I can come up with given the two pairs of ears in the car with me. “And Rosie’s. As long as she’s happy to stay with me, I’m happy too. And we will be fine. Honestly.” I look over my shoulder to Rosie seated in the back and she’s nodding furiously. That settles it. “Rosie agrees. And Tom’s here too in case we get stuck. He came with us to the hospital and now he’s driving us back. So you just concentrate on getting some sense out of your Turkish builders so you can come home, and don’t worry about us.”

  The silence at the other end is deafening. Then, “Eva…” I wait for him to go on, to say that I’m not up to it, not allowed, somehow not good enough. But that’s not what’s on his mind at all.

  “Miss Byrne, you are sounding more than a bit bossy. I think you know where that’ll get you.” His tone is one not to argue with, back in full Dom mode. I gasp and glance round anxiously at Tom and Rosie. He continues, “I know you’re not alone so just listen and don’t speak. I’ll keep my voice down.” He does—I have to press the phone hard against my ear to hear his words, so softly spoken but steely in intent. “I’ll be back in a few days, and when I get there I’m going to spank your beautiful bare arse so hard you’ll not sit down for a week. But before I put you across my knees I’m going to clamp your nipples, and don’t expect any ice this time to help you. This will hurt. You will scream. And finally I’m going to fuck you, hard and fast and very, very deep. You’ll love that bit, something to look forward to while you’re bent over my knees, begging me to stop. Are we clear?” At my stunned silence he is insistent.

  “Miss Byrne, just say yes—that you’ve heard and understood.”

  “Yes,” I answer, hoping my voice isn’t shaking.

  “And, Miss Byrne, this conversation is not over. But I do require privacy for the things I want to say to you next on this subject. So, you’ll phone me back later, when you’re alone. In bed. Naked. Is that clear and un
derstood?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, a bolt of pure lust shooting through me. He’s two thousand miles away and can still make me wet with a few well-chosen words. And a promise of phone sex to come. I hope.

  I decide to live dangerously, see what might happen.

  “Do you need me to…to pick up any of your stuff? From Leeds?”

  “Thank you for offering, Miss Byrne, but I have all the items I’ll need. If you care to check in my bedroom you can select the things you want to use. And, Miss Byrne, your cockiness just earned you a punishment fuck. Do you remember what that is?”

  “Yes. But, Nathan, I—”

  He cuts me off, sharp and authoritative. “We’ll talk later. When you’re…ready to proceed. Okay?” He means in bed, and naked. Maybe then I’ll be able to talk him round as far as the punishment fuck is concerned. I intend to try.

  His next words are quiet, but stun me even more than the Dom talk.

  “Eva, one last thing. I just want to say, I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you. I am so incredibly grateful to you, for looking out for Rosie. I can’t tell you.”

  Usually pretty quick on the uptake my head is reeling with the change in gear. “What? You’ll let me look after her? It’s okay, then? You don’t mind me staying with Rosie, just us two?”

  “Mind? Fuck no. I just wouldn’t have dared to ask you. Are you okay for cash? I’ll sort out access to my credit card for you so you can buy in what you need.”

  “I’ve got my own money. I’m all right, really.”

  “I’ll sort it. And, Eva, thank you. Really.”

  “You’re welcome. That’s what friends are for, or so I imagine.” Back to the business in hand, I remember poor Grace. “And talking of friends, I’ll let you know what’s happening with Grace as soon as I find out something definite. At this stage, though, she’s down for surgery tomorrow to reset the hip.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Airedale General Hospital.”

  “Right. I’ll send flowers. When are you seeing her again?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. Soon, though. Tonight, maybe.” I turn to Tom. “Tom, could Rosie stay with you for a couple of hours this evening while I go back to keep Grace company?”

  “Sure. We’ll go mud-slopping and check on the latest piglets. How’s that sound, tiddler?”

  “Cool!”

  Putting the phone back to my ear again I can hear Nathan chuckling. “Seems Rosie fancies getting down and dirty with the baby piggies so that’s settled. I’ll drive back to the hospital tonight and see how Grace is getting on.”

  “Tell her I’m thinking about her, and to get well soon. I’ll see her when I get back. And—thanks Eva. For being there.”

  “Where else would I be? I told you, I’m staying. And—I’ll phone you later…”

  “You do that, sweetheart.” And with a click he’s gone. And I need a change of underwear very urgently.

  Chapter Two

  “Miss Byrne, how nice of you to call back.” Nathan’s voice over the phone is soft, seductive. Despite his clipped tone and businesslike words—deliberately chosen, I’m sure—the effect is suggestive and sensual. My toes curl and my insides start to quiver deliciously. I love it. And decide to go with the flow.

  “No problem. Sir.”

  “Ah. You do seem to be in a better frame of mind tonight than you were when we spoke earlier. Are you feeling cooperative, Miss Byrne? Ready to do as you’re told?”

  “Yes.”

  I keep the phone pressed against my ear as I wait for him to continue, hoping he can’t pick out the breathlessness in my reply. I’m already wet just thinking about what’s to come. God, I’ve been dying for this all day. And Rosie just wouldn’t go to sleep. She was so wound up by today’s events—the shock of finding her beloved ‘nana’ collapsed on the floor, the excitement of the ambulance, the howling with laughter as Mrs Richardson described the vicious attack by a deadly duvet, and this evening her adventures playing with piglets. This is one day she’ll not forget, and all she wanted to do was cuddle up in bed and talk about everything that had happened.

  Mostly, though, she needed reassurance, to know that her world was safe in spite of everything. And, maybe because I’ve been a frightened, lonely little girl myself in the past, it felt natural for me to sit with her on her bed, both of us propped on pillows, my arms around her as she snuggled into my side.

  Eventually she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. When her deep, even breathing confirmed that she was, at last, asleep I was able to sneak away to poke around in Nathan’s bedroom in readiness for this telephone conversation. Despite our intimate relationship, until today I hadn’t even set foot in Nathan’s room. And my earlier visit had been somewhat overshadowed by the shock of finding Mrs Richardson in a crumpled heap on the carpet. This time I took the opportunity to look around, take in the heavy, solid wood furniture and strong, darkly masculine décor. Very Nathan. The carpet was a deep, rich blue, matched by thick curtains and a navy and black striped duvet cover sprawled over the huge bed. Well, Grace did say it was king-size. The last time I saw that duvet it was on the floor, tangled around Mrs Richardson. Tom must have straightened the room before following us to the hospital.

  I recognised Nathan’s leather jacket from the first time we met, out on the drive in the pouring rain. This evening it was draped over the back of a chair and looking none the worse for its soaking. With a slight shiver I remembered the way he slipped my precious papers into the inside pocket before inviting me into the warmth of his house. I was tempted, very tempted, to check what else might be in those pockets—I’ve yet to get my car keys back and I can’t get any sense out of anyone as to Miranda’s whereabouts. But that seemed too…intrusive. I restricted myself to looking in the places likely to house his collection of sexy toys.

  Actually, I found them easily enough, in a large drawer at the bottom of one of a matching pair of heavy oak wardrobes. I couldn’t help but notice that this man certainly has a lot of clothes. Even with all my new gear from Harvey Nicks most of my stuff fits in one drawer. But pulling my attention back to the business in hand, I lifted out the small but nonetheless fascinating selection of erotica and laid everything out in front of me on the carpet. Nathan clearly keeps most of his ‘toys’ at his apartment, well away from Black Combe, but there was enough to keep us busy for a while. I picked up each item in turn, examining them. And I made my choices. I selected a set of nipple clamps that looked to be adjustable—though how would I know, really? But they didn’t seem too fierce. I also found a rubber spanking paddle, which I put to one side, but I rather thought that Nathan might use his hand for the spanking he had promised me on his return. He usually does. I found some other interesting items too—a set of handcuffs, a pair of leather gloves with small spikes sticking out of the palms, and an odd-looking contraption that looked as though it would be used to push my thighs apart. Maybe I would ask for a demonstration sometime—but only if Nathan’s in a good mood.

  And, my personal favourite, I found a rather pretty vibrating dildo that I’ve brought to bed with me now in the sincere hope that it might come in useful tonight.

  It seems so long since we’ve been together, but really it’s only been a week. All told, it’s only been about three weeks since I first came here and met Nathan. And in that short time I’ve gone from a prim, over-educated, and under-sexed virgin to an insatiable nymphomaniac, a randy little slut who can get damp with anticipation at the sight of a few kinky sex toys. And I am beginning to anticipate some seriously sexy play right now.

  “Are you in your bedroom, Miss Byrne? And are you naked as I instructed?” Just the sound of his voice is foreplay, sending delicious shivers through my body as I hug the phone to my ear.

  “Yes. Yes to both questions. I went to your room first, though, as you said. And I found some…some things.” The silence at the other end of the phone is unnerving. I hesitate—have I done, or said, the wrong thing? Maybe I misu
nderstood, should have waited for permission, waited to be told what to do? This submissive, obedience stuff is still pretty alien to me and, although Nathan doesn’t seem unduly hung up on it most of the time, our roles are clear as far as our sexual relationship is concerned. He’s the top. I’m the bottom.

  “Is that all right? I mean, I didn’t think… I’m sorry if I wasn’t supposed to touch your things.”

  “Shouldn’t that be ‘I’m sorry, Sir’? You’re becoming a little disrespectful, Miss Byrne, and I thought you’d learnt better than that. I intend to work on improving your manners when I get home. But, to deal with your question, yes it is all right. I told you to look and you did. And I expected you to find something you wanted to play with now, I’m just wondering what that might be…”

  “It’s a dildo, Sir. A vibrating one.”

  “Ah. An excellent choice. We’ll have some fun with that, and I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. And did you like the rest of my little collection? Not as extensive as we have at our disposal in Leeds, but I’m sure I can manage to keep your attention perfectly well. Would you agree, Miss Byrne?”

  “Yes. I’m sure you will. Sir.”

  “How respectful you’ve become again, suddenly. You’re learning fast. Are you all right, Miss Byrne? You sound…breathless.”

  No fooling him, even at this distance. “Yes. I’m fine. It’s just… I’m missing you so much and I want you to come home. But when you do, I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier. Knowing you’ll hurt me…makes me nervous, that’s all.”

  His voice softens, the tone reassuring rather than harsh now. “Are you afraid of me, Eva? You should know by now I’ll keep you safe.”

  “I do know that. I do, really. But…”

  “Go on, Miss Byrne. But what?”

  “But—” I hesitate. What is it exactly that I’m trying to pull together in my head here? How is it possible to be scared, intimidated, in pain, and at the same time so mindless with pleasure that I can’t even remember my own name? And the realisation hits me—it’s because it’s Nathan. It’s his hands I’m in, no one else’s, and I trust him. Totally. He’s never let me down and I know I’m safe. However scared I am, and in reality the fear and anticipation are always much worse than the actual events, it’s always been all right afterwards. Better than all right. And the fear, the anticipation of pain, the pain itself, it’s all part of the intensity of the experience. But the afterglow is indescribable, and always will be. Because it’s Nathan.