Fire After Dark (19 page)

‘Are you sure, darling?’ My mother sounds anxious. ‘I worry about you on your own in that big city.’

‘I’m really all right. And I’m at work now, so I can’t talk . . . ’

‘Promise you’ll call me later? And I can catch a train to be with you any time if you need me.’

‘There’s no need for that, but I’ll definitely call you soon. I better go now.’

‘All right, then. Take care. Goodbye, I love you!’

‘I love you too, Mum. Bye.’ I put the phone down, comforted by the talk with my mother. Even though I didn’t tell her what’s happened with Dominic, her sharp mother antennae picked up some of the gloom I couldn’t quite stop from coming into my voice.

James comes back over to see how I’m doing with the catalogue proofs. I show him that they’re nearly finished.

‘Good,’ he says. ‘You’ve got an excellent eye for detail, Beth. That takes a weight off my shoulders, I can tell you. I’m not very good at that myself. Sometimes I get Erlend to double-check for me, but his written English isn’t perfect, and he can matters worse by putting mistakes in instead of taking them out.’ He shakes his head, laughing. ‘We’re a right old pair. Now – once the proofs are done, I’ve got some things we need to start dealing with.’

We go through some tasks. I’ll be helping to organise the next private view, which is happening in two weeks’ time, and sorting out the taking down of the current exhibition and the installation of the next. There’s plenty to keep me busy, and James has more time to deal with clients, which is his forte. I’ve already witnessed him at work, approaching a customer who came in off the street and talking to him about the art on the walls. Wary of a hard sell at first, the customer took a while to relax but with James’s gentle guidance, he found a picture he liked very much and before long, a deal was struck.

I was impressed. It can’t be easy to persuade someone to part with five thousand pounds just like that.

‘In these difficult financial times, people are seeing art as an investment,’ James explained. ‘I spent a while reassuring him that this artist is going to hold his value and probably go up. That’s what customers are most concerned about now – but, of course, they must love the art as well. It’s an investment that can bring a great deal of pleasure.’

Now he looks me in that wise way he has, peering over the top of his spectacles and reminding me of an owl in a storybook. ‘You just don’t seem yourself today. Is everything all right?’

‘Yes, fine,’ I say automatically, but the dullness in my voice gives the lie to it.

‘Right then. It sounds like we need a good natter. The shop is quiet, the proofs are nearly done.’ He pulls up a chair and settles himself opposite me, his elbows on the desk and his chin resting on his hands. ‘Now. Shoot.’

I look at him. I can hardly believe I’ve only known him a few days. We’re getting on so well, and he’s amazingly easy to talk to, one of those people who are absolutely unshockable. I get the feeling James has had a lot of life experience and that along with his kindly nature has made him into the perfect agony uncle. Plus, he’s really interested.
Can I tell him the truth?

As if he can read my mind, he says, ‘You can tell me
anything
.’

‘Well . . .’ I take a deep breath and it all comes out, right from the start and the night I first saw Dominic in his apartment, until last night and his adamant refusal to give our relationship a chance. It’s a relief to let it all out and by the time I’ve finished, James is looking rather bemused.

‘Beth,’ he says at last, shaking his head. ‘This is not the average boyfriend trouble, I’ll admit that. This is a nice old conundrum, I must say.’

‘I don’t know what to do,’ I say bleakly. ‘I can’t force him to be with me if he doesn’t want to.’

‘Oh, that’s not your problem, darling, he definitely wants to,’ James declares.

‘Do you think so?’ I sound so eager, so hopeful.

‘Of course. He’s clearly crazy about you but he’s trying to do the right thing by you. He’s sacrificing himself for you.’

‘But he doesn’t need to!’ I wail. ‘I don’t want him to do that at all.’

‘No – you’re obviously wild about him as well, and when you’re in the grip of an emotion that strong, you’ll do anything. He foresees trouble ahead and he doesn’t want to put you through it, but you’re willing to take the pain later if you can have the pleasure now.’

I think about this for a moment, staring down at the blond wood of the desk, and the pile of brightly illustrated catalogue proofs, and then I say in a low voice, ‘What if I take the pain now?’

James looks at me quizzically. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Dominic described his need for control as a kind of addiction, like a drug addiction. Perhaps I can go into that world with him, and together we can work out a cure, a way to come down and learn to do without it.’ As I say it, it makes complete sense to me. I feel a rush of happiness, as if I’ve stumbled on to the perfect solution. Of course. If going into that world is what it takes to be with Dominic, then that’s what I will do.  I remember his hand gripped on my wrists as we made love, and his order to come that sent me whirling into orgasm, and a delicious thrill runs through me. Maybe the journey of discovery would reveal hidden pleasures...

‘It’s a serious thing, Beth,’ James says, concern creasing his brow. ‘Dominic has made it clear he doesn’t want you in that part of his life. Perhaps it’s an aspect of his character that, deep down, he doesn’t like or doesn’t want to share with you.’

‘If he won’t share it with me, we can’t ever have a relationship,’ I say firmly. ‘And I want that so desperately. And . . .’ I feel a flush over my cheeks as I say something I never imagined I’d say aloud to anyone, let alone my new boss ‘. . . a part of me is curious. I want to understand the power this world has over people. I’ve been half alive for years and I don’t want to go back to that sleepy existence again.’

James raises his eyebrows at me. ‘All right. That’s different, then. If you want to do it for yourself, as well as for him . . . I can see that. It’s less dangerous, let me put it that way. I’d be very against you doing it just to keep him.’ He looks thoughtful. ‘It’s not a scene I’ve ever been drawn to – BDSM, it’s called: Bondage, Dominance, Sado-Masochism – but a lot of gay men are. There are leather men, who are very into bondage, restraint and punishment. I had some friends, a couple, who lived a complete master-and-slave relationship whenever they were at home or with trusted friends.’ James frowns at the memory. ‘I found it highly weird, I must say. It wasn’t something that appealed to me. Watching them enact that situation was uncomfortable – Gareth was the master and Joe was the slave, except that Gareth called him “it” or “1”, and Joe lived as his literal slave, cooking, cleaning, serving Gareth in every way, often crawling about on his hands and knees. In their house they had a dungeon where they retired to play their games – Gareth torturing Joe for hours on end. To their mutual satisfaction, I might add,’ he says hastily. ‘But to be honest, it made me wince a bit. Made the little man run away and hide rather than stand up for business, if you know what I mean.’

My eyes are wide and I’m aware of nervousness fluttering around inside. ‘Do you think that’s what Dominic wants?’

‘A slave?’ James shakes his head slowly. ‘I don’t think so. A submissive is not the same as a slave, as I understand it. Gareth told me once that Joe was such a complete masochist, that he’s what is sometimes known as a pain pig.’

‘
What
?’

‘I know – it sounds unpleasant. I think it means that even by BDSM standards, he was into the most severe forms of punishment, outside the scope of what is generally considered safe. It doesn’t sound to me as if Dominic requires one of those people. In fact, the very healthy state of your sexual relationship before you’ve so much as sniffed the leather leads to me to believe he’s very far from being a dyed-in-the-wool sadist.’

I blush again, but all this is helping me tremendously. I feel I’m beginning to understand a little more of this curious, shadowy world. ‘I’m so grateful for your help, James,’ I say sincerely.

‘You’re welcome, darling, but I’m not sure what else I can do for you.’

‘Actually,’ I say slowly. ‘There is something. I know it’s a lot to ask of you but . . .’

He leans forward, interested. ‘Go on. What is it?’

An idea has been forming in my mind, and now I hesitate for a moment to get my thoughts together, then I tell what I would like him to do.

At home later, I’m tired by the extraordinary upheavals of the last few days. I feel as though I’ve been through the emotional wringer, experiencing everything from unbelievable ecstasy to deep despair, and it’s worn me out. Supper, a warm bath and a chat to De Havilland help to revive me. Besides, I’m titillated by the thought of what I’m about to do. When I think of it, butterflies swarm in my stomach and I can’t what believe what I’ve planned, but it’s also exciting.

Clean and fresh from my bath, I slide on the silk robe, enjoying the cool slipperiness over my skin, and walk into the sitting room. For the first time, I’m half hoping that the flat opposite will be in darkness, but of course it’s not. Tonight, the blinds are up, the curtains are drawn and I can see into the softly lit interior of Dominic’s flat, although he isn’t there. It’s a beautiful sight, at once bringing me closer to him. Usually I would leave the lights off in Celia’s flat, so that I’m relatively invisible to him, but not tonight. I move around the room, switching on the lamps until the room is illuminated by a gentle glow. The silver lacquer panel come alive in the electric light, shining and shimmering like the surface of water.

Then, as I hoped he would, Dominic comes into his sitting room. He’s holding a tumbler of something that looks dark and strong – whisky or brandy or something like that, I suspect – and he’s got that just-back-from-work look, as though his jacket and tie are abandoned on the bed but he’s too exhausted to change completely. My heart swells when I see him and I’m flooded by the desire to hold him, kiss those perfect lips, stroke his tired face and run my hands through that dark hair. I can also smell that delicious fragrance his skin holds in its pores. But the reality is, we’re separated. As he comes into the sitting room, he looks over towards Celia’s flat, and stops at once as he realises that I’m there. I know he can see me clearly, but I make sure that I do not look directly at him. Even though I’m intensely aware of him and exactly where he is and what he’s doing, I pretend that I have no idea he’s watching.

Like an actress on the stage, seemingly oblivious to her audience.

I walk around the sitting room, organising small things, rearranging photos and ornaments, picking up books and looking at them. I know that Dominic has moved closer to his window now. He’s standing directly opposite, watching me, his tumbler held against his chest, the other hand in his pocket. He’s waiting for me to look out, to communicate with him. But I’m not going to.

Not in the way he expects.

First, to help me, I switch on the CD player. Celia left a disc of classical guitar music in the deck and it fires up and begins to fill the flat with gentle strains. It might not be the best soundtrack in the world but it will do. I move around the room, getting the stiffness out of my limbs, relaxing. On the table is a glass of wine I put there earlier, rich and red, and I sip it, feeling the heat in my stomach and the alcohol in my blood almost at once. This will help.

Dominic hasn’t moved. He’s still watching me. I make sure I’m close to the window and begin to caress my own arms and run my hand over my neck and chest, moving it inside the neck of the gown. It slides over my skin, my fingertips cool on my breasts. I am rose-scented from my bath oil and it’s left me soft and smooth. I lift my hair up and let it fall.

Is this sensuous?
I wonder.
Is this sexy?

But I know I’m going to have to forget my self-conscious and lose myself in the moment if this is going to work.
Do it for yourself.

I close my eyes and forget about the Dominic standing across the way, watching. Instead, I summon up the Dominic who fucked me so well. I imagine his face in the grip of his hot desire, the intense expression as he pushed himself into me with forceful thrusts. I remember taking his erection in my mouth, sucking his tip and making him groan out loud. I shiver all over and at once feel that spread of arousal, the tingling of nerves coming alive and juices rushing to the surface, making me ready for whatever lies ahead.

I slide my hand back into my gown again, but this time I cup my breast, rubbing my thumb over the nipple that is already puckered and stiff, the tip dark red and thrusting. It responds to my touch, lighting small fuses in my groin and making me sigh. I do the same to my other breast, awakening it a rub and a pinch, letting it add to the spin of excitement in my stomach. Then, slowly, I let the gown drop open and shrug it down over my shoulders. Now the gown is held up by the belt, but my chest is entirely exposed and under the gown I’m wearing a black lace bra, cut low and underwired so that my breasts form soft globes that are held in two wispy lace cups.

My eyes are only half closed, so that I can see Dominic at the opposite window. I know he’s watching. I imagine his breath coming harder and faster as he realises what I’m doing. Then, suddenly, he moves and a moment later, his flat is plunged into darkness. Then he is back at the window but now I can only see his outline, a shadow, and he is standing further back so that I can hardly make him out at all.

Now, the usual situation is reversed. He’s the one in the dark looking at me, in the light.

But I know exactly what I’m doing. I know that he’s watching.

I feel a fresh wave of arousal and rub my hands over my breasts again, playing with the nipples as they strain and rub against the textured surface of the lace. I run my hands over my arms, shoulders and neck, play them over my belly, and then return to my breasts again. This time I release them from their cups, setting them free so that the nipples are exposed, pushed upwards by the bra. I reaching for my glass, take a sip of wine, then dip my fingertips into it and rub the red wetness over the nipples.