by Vina Jackson
He closed his eyes and imagined what it must be like to be her, senses obscured but for the sound and smell of the activity taking place all around, floggers beating down on bare skin, the moans and cries of a room full of aroused people, the scent of sweat and perfume, her pressure points alert and expectant, waiting to be interrupted by a stranger’s touch.
He felt himself getting hard.
Then his eyes snapped open.
She had lied to him, told him that she was meeting a friend.
He remembered what Clarissa had said. Summer had allegedly told her that she was looking forward to it, that she had volunteered for this.
Why, Summer? He wanted to shake her. If he had known that Victor had invited her here, then they could have come as a couple, enjoyed all of this together. Did she think so little of him that she thought she had to go behind his back?
He retreated into the antechamber. Victor stood there, with a cruel smile on his lips.
‘Lovely, isn’t she? Though I have to say I really do find her rather dull. I’m sorry you had to find her before I started the show. Curious, eh?’
Victor smelled of rubber, talcum powder and whatever spray it was he used to shine his latex, which gleamed like polished glass in the light.
‘What the hell are you playing at? Did you tell her I’d be attending?’
‘Oh, no, she doesn’t know that you’re here. I bet she didn’t tell you what her plans for the evening were, though, did she?’
They were both whispering to avoid disturbing the other occupants of the room, but the fury in Dominik’s voice turned his whisper to a hiss.
‘No, she didn’t, but there must be some explanation. If you’ve coerced Summer here against her will, then I swear to God I’ll kill you, Victor.’
‘There was no need to. You don’t know her very well, do you? Hasn’t she told you about our liaisons? It’s not the first time that your Summer has enjoyed a party like this. She’s rather popular with my acquaintances, in fact.’
Dominik’s heart sank. Summer had always been unusually quiet when Victor’s name was mentioned. If she had wanted to date the man or attend his parties, that was one thing, but doing it behind his back was another. Keeping him informed was the only thing that he had asked of her.
He sank down into one of the benches that Victor had set up for the audience.
The gong clanged again.
Victor waited for the players to finish their scenes and then proclaimed the beginning of the show.
One by one the partygoers filled the room, laughing and giggling, most of them in various states of undress, many of them drunk. A woman sat down on his right-hand side wearing what appeared to be a pair of patterned tights, pulled all the way up to the underneath of her breasts like a jumpsuit. A thick spiked collar encased her neck.
Edward sat down on the other side. His face was smeared with three different shades of lipstick. ‘This had better be good,’ he said, ‘as I was having a wonderful time in the other room.’
Dominik grunted in approval. He was no longer in any mood to talk.
The lights dimmed. He heard the sound of metal scraping against metal as the curtain was drawn back.
Then a spotlight shot down from the ceiling, irradiating Summer in a beam of light. She had now been untied – Victor must have ducked under the curtain and released her – and she was resting on her knees and elbows, as if waiting to be used from both the front and the back.
Victor stepped into the stagelight in front of her and clapped his hands together.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘for this evening’s entertainment, I have a beautiful volunteer. She has asked me to arrange for her deepest fantasies to be fulfilled, to be used and abused by strangers until she can take no more. Naturally, I was happy to oblige. I present a true slut, for your pleasure.’
To demonstrate her readiness, Victor plunged a finger between Summer’s thighs and she moaned, shifting backwards, as if inviting him to enter her again.
‘As you can see, my dears,’ Victor added dryly, ‘she is ready for you.’
He leaned forward and gently scooped some of the hair back from Summer’s masked face.
‘But I’m sure they would like to hear it from you. Tell them what you are.’
‘I’m a slut,’ she said, in a clear, methodical voice.
Each word was like a knife in Dominik’s side, but he was rooted to the spot, transfixed by the sight of her.
‘And what do you want?’
She paused, licked her lips. ‘I want to be fucked.’
Victor looked at Dominik and his face spread into a maniacal smile. ‘That’s an invitation if ever I heard one. Now, of course, let’s keep it safe, sane and consensual. The safe word is “Vivaldi”, which she will use if she wishes to stop the proceedings at any time. You will find condoms, lubricant and other accessories right next to the bed. Please, enjoy.’ He gave a low bow and stepped to the side.
Edward elbowed Dominik in the ribs. ‘Best to be first in these sorts of situations, don’t you think?’
‘Please, go ahead. I would rather watch for a few minutes.’
He was up on his feet before Dominik had completed his sentence.
She had even used their music as her safe word, with Victor, of all people. He felt foolish, like a jilted teenager.
The other guests had begun to circle. Ed was running his hands through Summer’s hair, pulling it.
She tilted her neck back, baring her throat, a hard smile spreading across her lips. It was an expression that Dominik had seen many times before during their own lovemaking, the look she gave when she was most aroused.
At least it was Edward’s cock that would be first and not Victor’s; Dominik was not sure if he could have accepted that. Perhaps the stupid man couldn’t wriggle out of his latex easily enough to join in.
Another man, one whom Dominik had not seen before, was heading for Summer’s mouth, his cock bouncing up and down as he approached her with his prominent erection.
Dominik held his breath for a moment, hoping that perhaps she might use her safe word if a cock was thrust into her mouth unaware, but instead she opened her mouth wide and leaned forward instinctively to invite him in.
Beads of sweat appeared on her skin like teardrops and Dominik followed the path of each droplet that rolled down her body. Her breasts swung back and forth like pendulums, the soft slapping of her flesh drowned out by the louder groans of her companions.
A woman with hair cropped like a pixie and an androgynous figure, bones as delicate as a bird’s, slid under her body from the side and began to suck Summer’s nipples.
The man who had been standing at Summer’s mouth dutifully moved away, kneeled down in front of the tiny woman and separated her labia with his lips. Another man had taken his place at Summer’s head in less time than it took Dominik to take a breath. He was masturbating with the aid of handfuls of her red hair.
Dominik’s view was obscured now as the small stage was surrounded by men and women who were waiting to touch her or to fill her in some way.
Occasionally, one of the participants would step back to mop their brow or change a condom, and for a moment or two before another person stepped in, Dominik would catch a glimpse of Summer’s pale skin, now slick with sweat, her body in a perpetual state of motion, back and forth in response to the pressure of a cock inside her or flinching in response to a caress.
If he closed his eyes, then he could pick out the familiar sound of her panting, imagine how her heart was racing, imagine how it had felt to have her wrapped round his shaft, the way that she seemed so present in her body when they made love, reacting to his slightest touch. He began to get hard again, in spite of himself. He watched as she wrapped her mouth round another man’s cock.
Surely she must be beginning to tire, he thought, but she showed no signs of slowing or of sated desire. It was as if she was trying to wipe out all the unsatisfactory sex she had ever had with this one n
ight of endless fucking.
Perhaps it was anger that prompted him to move, or his own desire.
When the man with his cock in Summer’s mouth moved away, Dominik was there to replace him.
He looked down at her face, the curve of her mouth, her forehead furrowed in concentration, senses alert to the change in position. He ran his hands over her neck and shoulders, felt her relax against the pressure of his touch. He took her hair into his hands and pulled her head back, then bent down and kissed her.
For a moment, she responded as she always did, opening her mouth and humming a gentle and satisfied sigh.
Then she pulled away and lifted her mask. She’d recognised his touch.
‘Stop, please,’ she said, moving herself into a sitting position.
The crowd that had gathered around her stepped back immediately.
She shifted forward and looked around for something to cover herself with, a towel or her dress, but there was nothing. She wrapped her arms round her chest to hide her breasts.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Victor invited me. Evidently he invited you too.’
‘What did he tell you?’ she asked in a whisper.
‘He told me about all the other times, if that’s what you mean. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me? Is this your first time to one of his parties?’
‘Well, no, but . . . I didn’t think you cared, and I couldn’t seem to find the right time. You’re always out. Rehearsing. With Simón.’
‘Right. So you can fuck whoever you like, whenever you like, and I can’t?’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘But it’s what you said. And it’s what you do. Go to hell, Dominik.’
She swung her legs over the stage, stood up and strode across the room to the exit, her shoulders back and her chin held high.
The room fell into an embarrassed hush. Just the sound of a single man clapping rang in Dominik’s ears.
Victor.
13
The Landscape After the Battle
Simón was waiting for me when the yellow taxi pulled up outside the SoHo apartment. He was sitting on the front step, his legs out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles encased in his familiar snakeskin ankle boots.
‘I knew you’d have to come home eventually.’
‘What the hell are you doing here? It’s three in the morning.’
‘You didn’t answer any of my calls. I was worried about you.’
I pulled my phone out of my bag and flicked through my messages and missed-call list. Simón had called almost every hour since I’d spoken to him about skipping rehearsal.
‘Sorry. I must have had it on silent.’
I tried to get my key in the door, but my fingers were shaking like leaves in the wind.
Simón stared at me, then jumped to his feet and took my hands in his. He looked me up and down. I hadn’t so much as glanced in any of the mirrors that lined the hallway that led to the front doors at Victor’s mansion. I had no idea how I must look, but I knew that I was sweaty and shaky, and my hair was a mess. I hoped that no one had given me any love bites at least.
‘What happened? Did Dominik hurt you? I’ll make him regret it if he has.’
‘No, nothing like that. We were at a party and we had a row. He’ll probably be back here any minute.’
‘Come and stay with me. You can have some time to think things over. A safe place.’
‘I can’t just disappear. He’ll think I’ve left him.’
‘He’ll probably appreciate the space, and you’re not going to be able to have any reasonable conversation with each other when you’re both in this sort of state.’
I didn’t have the energy to argue. Besides, I wasn’t looking forward to the conversation I’d have to have with Dominik. Perhaps a day or two apart would do us good.
‘OK. I’ll get my things.’
‘Leave it. You can come back when he’s out. I have everything you need.’
‘My violin . . .’
‘You can use one of mine.’
He took my hand in his and guided me along to West Broadway to hail a taxi, the best place to find one at this time of night. The first two had their off-duty sign on, but the third stopped at Simón’s signal.
My heart beat faster and faster with each car that passed us, imagining that one of them would contain Dominik, hot on my heels with an apology. I would tell him everything that had happened between Victor and me; we would make it up to each other. Start fresh with a new slate.
But he didn’t come.
Simón pulled me against him inside the cab. I rested my head on his chest and he laid his arm round my shoulder. He began to run his hands through my knotted hair and I relaxed against him, allowing his kindness to sweep my worries away, at least for tonight.
‘You smell different,’ he said sleepily as he shook me awake when we pulled into his street. ‘Have you changed your perfume?’
That’s the scent of ten men and a couple of women, I thought, but didn’t say aloud.
‘The party was crowded. I need a shower.’
‘I’m happy to accommodate anything you need.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course.’
I looked up into his dark-brown eyes, filled with warmth, and in that moment I wanted him, if for no other reason than to drive the feeling of other people away. I leaned forward and kissed his lips.
He hadn’t shaved and his chin felt rough against mine. I ran my cheek over his stubble, enjoying the scraping sensation.
His hands were shaking as much as mine had when he entered the code to buzz us into his apartment building.
‘I thought you said this wasn’t a good idea.’
‘I don’t care about good ideas any more.’
‘Well, I’m not going to argue with you.’
He pulled me into the lift and wrapped his arms around me, pressing his lips against mine like a man possessed.
By the time the bell for his floor dinged, I had his shirt unbuttoned and was working at his belt buckle, eager to get our consummation over with before either of us changed our minds. I’d done enough that night that I might be ashamed of in the morning, so sex with one more man seemed almost unavoidable, like finishing off the last cookie in the box.
We kissed with the abandon of two people who think this might be their last night together as he led me into the bedroom and pushed me down onto the bed. He ran his hands under my dress and began to shimmy the fabric up round my waist, his movements aggressive, his eyes glittering with unconcealed desire. When he kneeled down between my thighs, I grabbed a handful of his thick hair in each hand and pulled him up to my face.
‘No, please, I just want to be fucked.’
Simón seemed happy to oblige. I wasn’t in any mood for foreplay, and I didn’t want him to taste the flavours that must still permeate my skin: the various scents of other people, the lubricants, the sharp chemical tang that condoms always left behind. He was heavier than Dominik. The feeling of his body over me was pleasantly crushing, and his hair fell across his face. I breathed him in, my hands sinking into his mass of dark curls. I wrapped my legs round his waist and clung on to him as he buried himself inside me, hoping that with every thrust he would drive away the sensation of other men. More than anything I wanted to rid myself of the memory of Victor. He had barely touched me, but the cloying smell of his cologne was trapped in my nostrils, threatening to turn my stomach with every inward breath.
It was over in minutes. Simón was tired and he had been waiting for me a long time. At least he didn’t apologise. I suppose he thought that there would be other times, and maybe he was right about that.
‘Will you ever tell me what’s wrong?’ he asked, as we lay side by side, his arm resting over my torso, drawing me against him as if he wanted to hold me there for ever.
The weight of my pause filled the room like a drum roll, as if the silence had a
sound of its own.
‘Maybe, but not tonight.’
‘I’ll be here for you, whenever you’re ready.’
I waited until he fell asleep before getting up and having a shower. I didn’t want him to think that it was being with him that had made me feel dirty. He deserved better than that.
I’d spent enough time at his apartment now that it felt like a second home anyway. I knew where he kept the fresh towels and that he had a full-length mirror in the bathroom that I could check myself out in.
There was barely a mark on me. Somehow I thought that my skin would be stained with the weight of my sins. I didn’t know what I expected to see. A scarlet letter burned onto my heart? But there was nothing. The reflection that stared back at me was as pure as the driven snow, though I knew that my genitals would be red and swollen, and would probably take several days to recover.
People say that it’s the eyes that are windows to the soul. I think we’d learn more about each other if we directed our attention to parts lower down.
I turned the water on and stepped underneath, then turned and fiddled with the tap. The temperature was up as hot as it could go, but it still wasn’t hot enough.
There wasn’t a shower in the world that could wash this feeling away.
Dominik knew that what had happened had altered everything between him and Summer for ever.
It was not a question of blame. They all had to accept a heavy share of responsibility for the unfortunate course of events: Victor, Summer and him in equal proportions.
Words could no longer repair what had so brutally come apart at the seams.
Victor had engineered it all, a devious master of ceremonies, intent on using both of them, manipulating Summer and Dominik to this point of no return. Out of mere cruelty? For gratification? Or maybe just mischief, like a child who sees a pile of bricks in perfect alignment and can’t help but kick them down and scatter the pieces all over the carpet, bringing chaos out of order.
When given a choice, Dominik had somehow come up with the wrong words, not found the kindness in his heart to forgive or understand, involuntarily becoming the villain in his mad desire to play with Summer until the ties that bound them were stretched to breaking point. Yes, it was his fault, from the moment he had caught that glimpse of her playing the violin in the London Underground and imagined how he could lure her into his spider’s web, his bed, his life on terms he couldn’t even now fully understand.