Personal Protection Page 4

  “You’re late,” she snapped when I knocked and let myself in.

  “So sue me.”

  “I just might!”

  She stalked around me, tracing appreciative fingers across my shoulders.

  “And there I was thinking it was padding. I’m impressed.”

  She dropped her gown. She wore nothing but her long blonde hair.

  “I’m impressed, too.”

  “Then perhaps you should show me how much.”

  I did.

  “We never really had a relationship as such. She’d just call me up whenever she wanted sex. Anytime. Middle of the night. Four in the afternoon. First thing in the morning. Lunch time. I’d never had sex in so many strange places nor so publicly – you know I’m not an exhibitionist.”

  “It must have been very exciting.”

  “It was at first,” I agreed. “But it wasn’t satisfying. Don’t think you have to compete with her memory.” I hugged her to emphasis my point. Cecily’s bizarre demands, unpredictability and desire for increasingly rougher sex had become too much. “It came to a head when she asked me to wear a strap-on and bugger her. I refused…

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “No. I won’t do it. Which part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

  Her slap caught me by surprise.

  “Do it!”

  “No!”

  Another slap.

  “DO IT!”

  “NO!”

  I caught her hand before the third slap could land. Her face was flushed, her breathing short, excited. She swooped forward, kissed me aggressively, passionately. Lulled into a false sense of security, I let go of her and went with it. The next thing I knew, my head was bouncing off the floor as she swept my feet out from under me. She rode me down, crashing to her knees astride me. I ached everywhere.

  “What the fu..?”

  She kissed me again, terminating the kiss with her teeth in my lip. I swore, and she reared back laughing. I bucked her off and got to my feet with every intention of leaving. Then her arms fastened around my knees. Her teeth fastened on my fly…

  “That was a mistake.” I should have shrugged her off and left. Adrenalin rush after violence is a high easily turned into an aphrodisiac. “We had the most incredible sex, even though it wasn’t what she’d wanted, so I was stupid enough to forget about it. She got more and more violent with me when I wouldn’t hurt her. She’d never shown signs of this before or I’d never have got involved with her. Eventually I was walking around with cuts and bruises and bites in places I’d never dreamt of. It was starting to affect my performance in my job. I couldn’t afford the distraction, the wounds, the tiredness. It sent the wrong message to the clients. So I finished it. I told her I couldn’t see her any more. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone get so angry. She threw things, she screamed, she ranted. I was glad we were at her place. I fled.”

  Tori made a noise of discomfort which seemed to be at my narrative rather than her own hurts. Either that or it was something to do with her own memories of Cecily? I pretended not to hear. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t pry. If she wanted to tell me, she would. Until then… I went on.

  “I hadn’t been seeing anyone for some time. Months had gone by, I’d been too busy to miss her and too busy to want anybody else. Christmas was coming. She just turned up on my doorstep on Christmas Eve, looking like a million dollars. She gave me a dazzling smile, then handed me a present. I hadn’t bought her anything. I hadn’t anything better to do, so I invited her out to dinner as a way of repaying her for the gift. She accepted. She waited while I showered and changed. When she saw the suit and shirt she urged me to open the present. It was a silk tie. She knows how I feel about silk. It was a great match for the outfit so I agreed to wear it.”

  Tori shivered. “God, I can imagine it. I never realised she was that calculating.”

  “Neither did I. Believe me, I’ve called myself every kind of fool since that day! She stood behind me and put it on for me, while I watched her in the mirror. She began to tighten the knot beyond the bounds of reason, but I was sandwiched between her and the bureau, so I had nowhere to throw her. It all happened so fast.” I shook my head to try and dislodge the immediacy of the memories. “I had a different bed then. I came round to find the bitch had used handcuffs and fastened my wrists to the aluminium bars of the headboard. The tie was still around my neck. And she had fastened my ankles to the footboard with plumbers’ tape!”

  My turn to shiver. “She always carried this huge bag, filled with all kinds of junk – and not a few sex toys – as soon as she saw I was conscious, she took out this studded paddle, like an oblong ping-pong bat, then she beat every inch of me below the neck.”

  “Jesus! I didn’t realise it was that bad! How did you stop her? Get free?”

  “They were my handcuffs. I knew how to get out of them without the keys. As soon as she saw my hands were free she ran. I didn’t go after her. I hurt too damn much, but if I hadn’t… That was the first time I ever wanted to hurt a woman, Tori. If I could have got my hands on her then!”

  “I don’t blame you! I’d have done the same!”

  I wondered about that. Tori always seemed such a gentle person. I couldn’t imagine her hurting someone, even someone who so richly deserved it.

  She twisted round a little bit, her expression thoughtful.

  “What?”

  “Handcuffs, Randall?”

  I blushed, glad she couldn’t really see me.

  “It’s not what you think! Or at least, it wasn’t to begin with. After I got qualified, I carried wrist binders around with me whenever the job looked as it might entail actually catching bad guys as well as protecting the Principal. Later I discovered that seldom happens. There are easier ways to hold on to a felon. Having someone smash me in the nose with the things sort of left me disenchanted.”

  Tori winced.

  “Yes, well… Cecily came across them in the bottom of a drawer when she looking for something else, during one of her visits. They became part of our sex games. After I passed out, she must have gone looking for them. I got rid of them after that along with the bed.”

  “Of course.” Was it my imagination, or did she sound a bit wistful? I definitely wasn’t going there! Once was enough for me.

  “I still don’t know how she got me on to the bed. Dragged me, I suppose.”

  It would have explained my other wounds. I’m not light, even if most of my mass is muscle. But a corpse or unconscious body is a dead weight, pardon the pun. Cecily wasn’t that strong. Maybe anger gave her strength? She certainly seemed pissed off at the time.

  “That explains a lot.” Tori mused, trailing soap bubbles over her exposed breasts in a way that almost took my mind off her words.

  “Explains what?”

  “Nothing.”

  And with that I had to be content. Clearly this was one of those things she wasn’t ready to talk about yet.

  Tori swivelled round in my arms, forcing me to move forwards so that she had somewhere to put her legs. We sat face to face like interlocking Kappa icons.

  “What about Ashley? He seems like such a nice guy. I can’t think what he sees in her. The only thing they seem to have in common is their job.”

  “I knew she swung both ways when I started seeing her; that’s one reason why I never became emotionally engaged, never committed myself to a relationship with her. And she didn’t seem to want that from me. It wasn’t until we’d finished that I realised she thought what we had was a relationship.”

  “Perhaps she and Ash have good sex?” Tori suggested.

  “Perhaps. Bondage and the law seem to go hand in hand. You can never tell what anyone likes in bed from outward appearances.”

  “That’s true. Look at you. You’re pretty scary but you’re gentle as a lamb in bed.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult!”

  “Believe me, it’s a c
ompliment.”

  I hugged her.

  “What happened to you with Cecily sounds worse than what happened to me today.”

  I shook my head.

  “Violence from her was something I’d come to expect. What she did didn’t really surprise me. Even though it was physically painful, it was her betrayal and the humiliation that stung the most. What was done to you goes beyond that. It violates your right to decide who you share intimacy with. It makes a mockery of the joy and pleasure of that intimacy. Whoever did this was striking at you personally. It wasn’t a random act of violence. It wasn’t the usual power thing that prompts rape. It wasn’t conventional. They wanted you to suffer, not just any woman. You.”

  I held her once more. For some time we just cradled one another. The bath water began to cool. I didn’t want to send the wrong message, so I whispered in her ear, “Warm water, or a sea of towels?”

  I felt her smile against my shoulder. She disentangled herself to lean back and pull out the plug. I got to my feet and offered her a hand to steady her. She stood up with my assistance, but instead of getting out she stepped in close, pressing the full length of herself against me. I swallowed hard. Lots of responses to this overture went through my mind. ‘Do you think we should?’ Or, ‘Do think you can?’ Or, ‘What about what just happened to you?’ Any or all of them could be wrong. But if she had made a decision to do this, shouldn’t I respect that decision? If I just took it slow, let her show me how far she was prepared to go…

  As the last of the bubbles drained away around our ankles, I smoothed my hands down her back, scooping up foam and smearing it gently over her pear-shaped behind. She sighed and leaned into me, licking a warm trail from a tendon in my neck to my collar bone. Her hands spread to encompass my ribs, fingers kneading me in a light sensuous massage, slipping over the wetness, using it to her advantage. Our breasts pressed together, rubbing against one another in increasingly determined movements, until I finally picked her up and transferred her to the bed. When I went to my knees before her, still in the bath myself, her eyes widened in alarm.

  “Randall, I’m…”

  “I know. You’re bleeding. It isn’t much. This is the only way I can think of to give you what you want that won’t hurt.”

  “Oh God,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. Get up here and hold me.”

  I know better that to resist a command like that.

  In the end we didn’t do anything. She put on a looped sanitary towel which would have made things difficult even if she wasn’t hurting. We just held one another and touched one another and kissed, before we kicked the towels off the bed into the bath, pulled the quilt over ourselves and went to sleep. At least Tori did. I have too much responsibility in my soul to fall asleep with candles burning. And since I’d been with Tori, I couldn’t leave the place in a tip. Old habits of tidiness had kicked in.

  When I was sure she was asleep, so that I wouldn’t be missed, I slipped out of bed and did all the sensible, practical things that make my girlfriends say I have no spontaneity. I got into sweat pants and a T-shirt while I puttered, then put on a halogen anglepoise, blew out the candles, put batteries back in the smoke alarm, picked up towels. My head was too full of the events of the day to settle.

  After my KP detail, I went into the other room to check my e-mail, got back to the people who needed replies, mailed off a copy of a report to a client, dumped the junk mail and made myself something to eat. I’m not usually a quiet person, but that night I made an extra effort for her sake. And she didn’t stir.

  I sat with a pen and paper, making a list of things I needed to do (I’m a compulsive list maker), picking at a sandwich and glass of fruit juice on a table beside me. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d eaten. I have to eat something about every three hours or my brain seems to slow down. Dean can’t understand how I’m not enormous with all the crap I eat. My nervous energy and my physical regimen seem to keep the weight off. I watched Tori toss and turn in her sleep, through the doorway, as I worked and hoped she wasn’t dreaming of her experience.

  My insomnia deteriorated into doodled sketches in the margins. Imaginary portraits of Tori’s attacker dying messily at my hands. I hadn’t been able to save her from the pain in real life. I was just as helpless to save her from reliving the experience in her dreams. Physically close by, I was still too far away to help. I was filled with guilt and frustration.

  “We might as well have gone to my place and given you the kitchen chair,” she said, jolting me out of my misery. I wondered how long she had been watching me.

  I set down the notepad and pen next to my empty plate then sat, arms on my thighs, hands dangling between my legs, as she rolled carefully on to one side the better to regard me.

  “This is more comfortable than a kitchen chair.”

  “Not as comfortable as the bed.”

  “I was planning on coming back to join you.”

  “When?”

  “Eventually.” She looked at me. “I just needed to work a few things out.”

  “Such as?”

  “How I’m going to be sure who did this to you, make them suffer.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes,” I told her, “I do. To make sure they can’t do it to anybody else. To stop me feeling so bloody helpless. To prove that you deserve my help.”

  She ducked her head into the bedclothes. “My avenging angel.”

  “Damn right!”

  “Will you come back to bed and hold me, until I fall asleep?”

  I flipped out the desk light, went straight back into the bedroom, turned up the duvet and slid in behind her. Wrapping my arms around her, I kissed the back of her neck.

  “Anything else I can do for you?”

  She drew one of my hands across her stomach and down.

  “Please…”

  “Tori…”

  “I want this!”

  “If you’re sure…”

  For answer, she unfastened the sanitary towel and placed my hand on her smooth mound. I kissed the back of her neck again, slowly, in a long line of descent that coincided with my fingers. She opened her legs to make it easier for me and I let her guide me with her comments and her body’s responses. I don’t think I hurt her, but I’m not sure that she cared. She just needed affirmation that she was still attractive, that not all sex was about power, or cruelty, or helplessness.

  I let her use me to prove it to herself because I got as much out of putting my fingers inside her as she did. But it was frustrating when she went straight to sleep afterwards. I lay there as long as I could before I had to go to the bathroom and satisfy myself. After that I was in no mood to continue making plans. I got undressed, turned off the light then slipped back into bed beside her, following her down into dreams.

  4

  Tori had booked three days off work before all this hit the fan. As part of her commitment not to let it ruin her life, she was determined to go back when the three days were up.

  She hadn’t been visibly bruised or scarred anywhere on her body that would prevent her doing her job, even if she did ache. I knew better than to try and talk her out of it. Perhaps she would be in a fit state to dance in another three days? Perhaps she would find that taking her clothes off in public was something she was no longer able to do? In either case, it was a decision she would come to alone. I’d stand by her whatever she chose. I’d meant what I said when I told her I would never make her do anything. The last thing she needed was overprotection.

  It was a new experience for both of us, and Tori’s desire not to have anyone tiptoe round the subject was a great help. As part of her determination not to let it turn her into a victim, and partly in order to make herself feel better, she resolved to continue with her usual routines as nearly as her still painful condition would allow. Since Dean had not been in touch to do more than ask after my lover, it seemed I had no client. Tori hadn’t fel
t like being alone, but she didn’t want to stay at home with me holding her hand either, so I found myself tagging along with her to her daily appointments.

  Few people realise what it takes to keep a dancer looking the part. I know I didn’t until I accompanied her. To start with we went swimming. Not just fooling about in the shallow end doing handstands and the occasional width. I thought I was fit until I had to keep up with her. Even aching, she cut through the water like a seal. I gave up and watched after the sixth length. She did twelve laps and stepped out of the water glowing, and looking better than she had since I’d encountered her at her parents. I was too happy to see her well to feel jealous.

  We followed that with a visit to one of those cute ladies’ gyms: you know the sort, all Lycra bicycle shorts and cropped tops. While Tori did her step workout and aerobics for an hour and a half in a skin tight, hot pink leotard, I lifted weights in a baggy T-shirt and old track pants with worn out knees. Instructors never like it when a woman can bench press a Volvo. I was about as popular as an Ebola carrier in an intensive care ward.

  When I went to take a shower, the changing rooms cleared except for Tori. The ‘dyke alert’ must have gone out as a result of my performance. (And she wondered why I don’t normally go to a women’s gym!) Still, it gave us some quality time in the shower. Tori seemed to have stopped bleeding and was anxious to continue pushing the bad memories out, replacing them with something new. So the visit wasn’t a complete waste.

  A light, nutritious (yuck!) lunch followed. Tori usually eats what I think of as proper food when she’s with me. But this wasn’t a dinner date. Perhaps I was seeing the real her for the first time? I haven’t seen that much green stuff on a plate since Dean’s last lunch. It occurred to me that the two of them have more in common than I cared to admit. Was I dating the female equivalent of my working partner? Too Freudian for me!

  By far the worst was the waxing session after lunch. Tori’s mixed parentage meant she didn’t need a sunbed to give her the dancer’s obligatory fake tan, and her body was so nearly hair free that it was smooth as silk. I suppose I never gave much thought to how it got to be that way; I just enjoyed the benefits like a chauvinist, relying on my lover to always be beautiful and perfect for me. But unlike most men, I’ve now had a glimpse of the pain that goes into keeping it that way. I watched Tori strip to pretty (and revealing) underwear from a stool she insisted I occupy in a corner of her cubicle. I watched her lie on a towel-covered vinyl couch while a nosy, too chatty beauty parlour assistant heated goo in a pan, applied it to Tori’s legs, allowed it to set, then ripped it off! I thought my stomach was coming out with her hair! I couldn’t watch. I had to wait outside. When they brought in the electrolysis equipment to zap her more persistent pubic hair, I had to go and sit in the car.