by Cody Young
She smiled, and opened them anyway. She threw the petals up in the air and they fell down over him like confetti.
He carried on looking at the rest of the stuff. “Bubble Bath, Edible Massage Oil, Lavender Massage Oil, Kama Sutra Dice - oh, for heaven’s sake.” He knew he sounded irritable. His shoulder was giving him hell. “Where are the bloody condoms?”
She leaned to look too, and pulled a couple of items out of the bag, “Ostrich Feather,” she said, with a laugh. “Unisex Blindfold with Ties.”
“I’d rather see what I’m doing, thanks” he said, and stuffed it back in the bag. “What’s that tube? Is that some form of lubricant?”
She turned it around so she could see the writing on the side.
“I think so,” she said, biting her lip.
“Okay, we’ll keep that,” he said, matter-of-factly. “And condoms. Yes. At last. In various styles and flavours.”
He lined them up in a row on the bedside cabinet, with his vial of pethidine and spare syringe. Like he was preparing to do some kind of surgical procedure. She picked up an ‘extra safe’ condom.
“Give me that thing,” he said, and took the condom sachet from her and ripped it open with his teeth. “You might have to help me put it on. I don’t think I’ve ever done it left-handed.”
“Yes, I will. But we need to get your pants off, first,” she reminded him.
He smiled. “Very true.”
She helped him with that too. He winced. Any major movement was agony. A shadow of doubt about his ability to do this returned, but he didn't want to disappoint her. For him, hot stinging pain wasn’t exactly the best aphrodisiac. She peeled off his trousers and tossed them on the floor beside the bed.
She helped him with the condom, or tried to. She was indeed inexperienced. He covered her hand with his and rolled it down. Then he pulled her towards him, determined to bury his doubts and do what she wanted him to do.
He’d always imagined sex with her would be about passion and possession. He’d played out the scene a thousand times – and it usually took place in his flat or on his couch, sometimes in his car. His fantasies involved bedding her confidently. Aggressively. Pounding into her while she yielded her soft, sweet body to him. Reaching a loud, simultaneous climax in each other’s arms, and her thinking he was the best thing since sex was invented.
It was different. The real thing. Intimate, intense. Awkward, even. He stayed where he was, sitting up in bed against the headboard, and said he wanted her to sit astride him.
“We’re going to do it like this?” she asked, doubtfully – straddling him, just like before.
“Yes,” he said. “I think it’s the only way we can.”
He reached for the tube of lubricant. Again, he took the cap off with his teeth. “Can you squirt some into my hand?”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not very effective if it’s still in the tube.”
“Okay.” She was nervous, but she did what he asked, and he used some on himself first, making the surface of the condom glisten.
“More,” he said. She obediently squeezed out some more.
“Good teamwork,” he said, and smiled at her. Then before she had time to object, he put his hand between her legs and put some gel on her.
She turned her head away in an agony of embarrassment. “Don’t. It’s cold.”
“Doctor’s orders,” he said. Then he took the tube and tossed it down beside the bed. Then he turned to look at her. “I’m all yours.”
She hesitated.
“Don’t be scared, Layla, it’s only me.”
“I know. The day we met, I was thinking… I was wishing... that I could choose you,” she admitted. “I never thought I’d get the chance.”
He nodded. He knew it was true. It was the chance of a lifetime, this. But she kept hesitating as if she was afraid to commit herself. He wished he could have made this easier for her.
At last, she came closer, legs trembling slightly as she sat astride. “Is this alright?”
“More than alright,” he said, savouring the sight of her lovely body, right there, ready to do this with him.
So, gazing right into his eyes, she pushed down onto him with a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes flared with fear and surprise, feeling him for the first time inside her. “Ben? Is that right?”
He answered her with a moan of pleasure, “Y-yes.”
There was shooting pain in his shoulder, but he willed himself to ignore it. She was trembling too, so he pulled her against him, and kissed away any doubt or discomfort she might be experiencing. “It’s okay, Layla, it’s okay…” he remembered saying the same words the day they first met. But this was different. Much more intense. Face to face, skin to skin, bodies joined.
And our hearts, he thought. Hers and mine.
She moaned too, and he stroked a lock of blonde hair back from her face.
Oh, Layla. She was still trembling as if this was a shock to her, but not nearly as painful as she’d feared.
He had thought she’d need time to get used to the unfamiliar feeling. Time to wait and experience the sensation of having him inside her for the first time ever. So it almost took him by surprise when she started to move. Sweet surprise and aching delight in every gentle movement of her hips.
“Is this right?” she asked, rocking gently.
“It’s perfect,” he told her. “You’re perfect.”
He didn’t need to guide her. She knew, instinctively, what had to be done. He couldn’t move – if he tried, his body met a spasm of pain and he was searching for pleasure. But he wanted so much to please her too, as he’d always promised he would. “Layla…”
He kissed her, gently, reverentially, holding her close with his good arm across her back. In this position, he couldn’t see the tattoo, but the thought of running his hand over it made him smile. Loverboy’s Back.
“Love you, Layla, you know that, don’t you?”
She didn’t answer. She was concentrating on the unfamiliar act of having sex for the very first time. And she was getting in to it, too, which pleased him more than he’d imagined possible. She rocked against him, soft and warm in the glimmer of light from the other room. She forgot about his injury and clung to his shoulders, making him turn his head and smother a cry of pain.
“Oh no,” she gasped. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be,” he said. Looking back into her eyes again. “I’m alright. Oh, baby, that’s it…don’t stop…oh, yeah…”
And she made him come, and for an instant he could feel no pain at all, only hot searing pleasure. He knew that if he’d had his full strength, he’d have flipped her onto her back and showed her that she too could have the sun and the stars. Tomorrow, maybe. When they woke, he thought dreamily.
Afterwards. She lay next to him, and he reached across with his good hand, interlocking his fingers with hers, “Are you happy?”
“Yes.” She smiled.
He was glad she was smiling. He had wanted her to feel that something had been gained, not lost.
She smiled at him. “It wasn’t sex, was it? It was love.”
“It can be one and the same,” he said. “For us it can be.”
She reached up and cupped his face. “One and the same. The way you talk.”
He smiled at her. “You’ll get used to it.”
Her face clouded and she almost seemed to shiver with fear, thinking about the future. “What’s going to happen to us?”
“I don’t know. We have to run away. If they catch us, I’m going to get struck off. But if we go into hiding, I can’t be a doctor anymore so it comes to the same answer. I don’t care about that. It was worth it,” he ran his fingers over the gentle curve of her shoulder and kissed her skin like she was some kind of goddess. “If they find out I shot Jimmy, I’ll go to prison. But you’ll wait for me, won’t you? You’ll come and see me?”
She nodded, but there was fear in her eyes about what the future might hold fo
r them. “Oh, Ben, you shouldn’t have done it.”
“Don’t say that. It was my choice. And it wasn’t a hard one, either. From the minute you asked me to help you, I think I knew I was going to do it. When people say they’d do anything for someone – they don’t have any idea what it means – but I do. I’d lie for you, steal for you, kill for you. Because I love you, Layla.”
She nodded. “Love you, too.”
“Good,” he said, and sank down on the pillow. “I need sleep. I feel like I could sleep forever.”
Waking Up
She knew something was very wrong the minute she woke up. He was so cold and pale. The wound had opened while they slept and there was blood soaked into the sheets.
“Ben,” she said, but couldn’t rouse him. “Ben! Wake up!”
She didn’t know what to do. How to feel for a pulse that she couldn’t find, how to detect the small signs of life in someone who seemed to have slipped into sleep forever. She touched his neck. It’s easier to find a pulse, there, isn’t it? She pressed her fingers to his neck, frantically searching for warmth that she was scared wasn’t there.
She looked at the bedside table. The needle was used, and the vial of pethidine was empty. He must have needed them, during the night.
“Oh, God. No. Please, no. Ben, Wake up!”
* * *
Fiona saw the policemen first. She’d been looking out for them. There were three of them coming up the concrete path towards the medical centre. Walking in through the sliding glass doors. One in uniform, two in plain clothes.
It was still early – just after nine – but the waiting room was already full of people. And all eyes followed the policeman as they approached the reception desk.
They wanted to see Ben’s consulting room.
Fiona smiled. “No problem at all.”
Sally looked up from her desk as they all passed by, and her face was all white and questioning. But Fiona walked past without bothering to explain. She headed for consulting room three.
“What have we got then?” said the senior Detective.
Fiona pointed to some pieces of stained fabric, lying on the doctor’s desk. “One of the cleaners found this in the wastepaper bin.”
A man's shirt. Cut to ribbons and covered in blood.
“And you believe this belongs to Dr Stein?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve seen him wearing that shirt.” Fiona was pleased it was all coming to a head. Excited, almost, to see Ben brought down.
The detective did a slow three-sixty turn. Slowly taking a good look at everything in the room. Noticed the medicine cabinet, left open, and an empty vial of pethidine in a small metal tray beside the consulting couch. “You haven’t touched anything in here, have you?”
“No,” said Fiona.
“And the doctor’s car is parked outside?”
“Yes. The black Audi. It’s not even locked. And there’s blood on the passenger seat.”
The detective raised an eyebrow and looked at his colleague. A silent understanding seemed to pass between them.
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Yesterday morning.” She said. “He wasn’t due back from his conference until Wednesday, but he came in early and demanded to use the computer.”
“Why? What did he want?”
“I don’t know. Something to do with the young girl he was obsessed with. She was one of his patients, you know.” But Fiona’s piece of scandal had no effect on the detective, whose face showed no interest at all.
“Can you get one of the other doctors in here, love? I want to ask a medical question.”
Fiona smiled. The men wanted a moment alone. “Of course.”
She went and found Ravi, who was in the staff kitchen warming up something aromatic in the tiny chrome microwave. A small square dish was rotating slowly inside the microwave, while the doctor stood there beside it, fork in hand.
“Leave that,” she said. “The police are here and they need to speak to a doctor.”
“Tell them to make an appointment,” he said, looking truculent.
“Even doctors can’t be high-handed with the police, Ravi.”
“Don’t pick me. I don’t want anything more to do with this fiasco.” He responded to the microwave’s bleep and got his rice dish out and put it on the table. “Yesterday was awful. And Ben said some stuff I kind of agreed with.”
“Jonathan’s not in yet, and Dima’s with a patient.”
Ravi sighed and abandoned his food. “I don’t like telling tales on a colleague.”
Fiona pursed her lips. “Your boarding-school code of honour isn’t helping,” she told him. “Ben Stein deserves everything that’s coming to him.”
But Ravi didn’t look like he agreed with her at all. “Ben’s not a criminal, Fee. Just an inexperienced doctor with an eye for a pretty girl.”
The three policemen were gathered around the medicine cabinet when Fee and Ravi arrived.
“Ah, doctor,” said the detective, waving for Ravi to come and look at the medicine cabinet. “Can you tell me what’s missing from in here?”
Ravi had a look, and pronounced that very little was gone. Apart from the pethidine.
The detective seemed surprised. “Are you sure? All these other narcotics here, and he only wanted two shots of pethidine?”
Ravi folded his arms. “He had access to narcotics all the time. Why would he take what he didn’t need?”
“Why would he inject himself with pethidine in the middle of the night?”
Ravi sighed. “No good reason, I suppose.”
“He was friendly with a girl from the Rookeries, wasn’t he?”
“Suspended for it,” said Fiona, feeling smug.
“Surely his private life is irrelevant to this,” said Ravi, glancing nervously at the blood-stained shirt. “The man’s obviously hurt. Might be dead for all we know. And he was obviously desperate – he made no attempt to conceal what went on here.”
“Are you a friend of Stein’s?”
“No,” Ravi shook his head. Vehemently. “Just a colleague.”
“Where’s the girl who helped him get into the database on the computer. I want to talk to her.”
Fiona almost laughed. “Sal? Oh, she’s very young and inexperienced. She can’t tell you anything.”
Another glance passed between the two detectives.
“I want to speak to her. Now.”
* * *
Sally felt like she was already in the witness stand. Betraying a friend. The policemen told her she’d done nothing wrong, but she shook with nerves all the same. It was crowded now in Ben’s consulting room. Three policemen and three clinic staff. Herself, Ravi and Fiona.
Sally had no choice but to give in and tell the police what they needed to know. “Ben wanted the address of a man named Jimmy Warren. But his file’s been closed. He’s no longer a patient here.”
A look passed between the two detectives – like they’d just got their lucky break. And Sal felt upset. She liked Ben. Even after she knew about Layla. She liked him, just as a friend.
The senior policeman produced a creased bit of green paper from his jacket pocket. Recognizable to anyone in the medical profession as a prescription form.
The detective offered it to Ravi. “Take a look at this will you, doctor? Tell us what you make of it.”
Ravi sighed. “It’s a prescription for a large quantity of Oxycodone.”
Sally felt a pang inside her heart. Oh, Ben, you crazy fool.
“Where did you get this?” said Ravi, studying the document as intently as he would a patient’s x-ray.
“It was taken into an all-night chemist last night,” said the detective. “They made it up, but then they got on the phone and called us. Was it authorized by your colleague, do you think?”
Ravi stared at the illegible signature scrawled across the bottom. “I…don’t really know.”
“Give it to me,” said Fiona. “I know all the doctors’ ha
ndwriting.” She took it and almost laughed with satisfaction, “Yes. Definitely Ben’s handiwork. I’d know his writing anywhere.”
And Sally looked sharply at Fiona. Smug Fiona. Who was loving every minute of this. And that was the moment when the mist began to clear. Sal knew now, exactly what had happened.
* * *
Later, after a few minutes spent crying in the staff toilet. Sally went back to reception. Where Fiona and Ravi were standing, coffee mugs in hand. Which only angered her more.
“Be careful you don’t spill that,” said Sal, meaningfully. “Could be the end of someone’s career.”
Ravi looked questioningly at her. “What are you talking about, Sal?”
But Sal ignored him and faced Fiona. “You told the police you knew his handwriting.”
Fiona stiffened. “Yes. Well, I had to. It was the truth.”
“That’s what I’m interested in. The truth!” Sal’s voice was hostile.
Ravi seemed almost amused. Seeing the two of them in a mood for a catfight.
Sal glared at Fiona. “Let’s go back to his story about how he filled out a form for Layla to sign.”
“Which isn’t true,” Fiona insisted, mouth setting into a hard line.
“But what if it is?” said Sal. “What if every word of that was true.”
Ravi tried to interrupt. “What’s this about?”
“Shut up.”
“Sally! Have respect for the doctors, for goodness sake.”
“What respect did you have, Fiona, on the day Ben dropped off the form? If you’d seen that form. You’d have known his writing. Wouldn’t you?”
Fiona turned away.
And Sal knew it was true. “The day I spilt my coffee on my in-tray. Or you did. I wasn’t even in the room!”
Ravi was interested now. “What are you saying, Sal?”
“I’ve remembered when it happened. Ravi. I’ve only just put it all together. It was her. She did it. She destroyed the form.”