New Title 1 (10 page)

She looked across at Ben to make certain he was watching. She wanted to see what his reaction would be.

‘I had a peeping tom.’ She said it at the just the right volume to cut through the hubbub of conversation from Ana who had embarked on some sort of stream of consciousness rant.

It worked perfectly. Ana’s jaw clicked shut and the group turned toward her in near perfect unison. Even Sarah momentarily halted the moon eyes she was making at Ben.

‘Okay, now that sounds far more interesting,’ Ana crowed, grinning, ‘Do tell.’

* * * * *

Rachel sculled the dregs of vodka and coke from her glass and broke into a coughing fit as a bit of ice lodged in her throat.
God she was pissed.
She’d lost track of the number of drinks she’d downed after ten. Whatever the number was, it was clearly the magic one. Even Ben’s presence at the table had stopped irritating her.

His reaction to her story hadn’t been what she’d hoped for. He’d remained completely stone-faced and unreadable throughout and she couldn’t help but wonder, once again, if he was medicated.

Not that his lack of response was bothering Sarah
, she thought as she spluttered. She’d obviously set her sights on him for the evening and Rachel shuddered a little to think what that said about her: that she would be attracted to a man who basically ignored her.

‘Ya right? Got bones in it has it?’ Mitch’s face loomed into view.

He was a little rosy-cheeked and there was a slight slur to his voice that in her intoxicated state, Rachel viewed as decidedly cute. He had a fair few drinks under his belt now and once he’d settled into the evening and the alcohol had started to ease his awkwardness, he’d revealed himself as quite the silver-tongued charmer.

Rachel searched for a witty reply but the drink had made her brain an alarming blank. Mitch’s hand, that had started out patting her back, was now rubbing circles across it which Rachel was finding immensely enjoyable.

Better get out of here soon before I pass out
, she thought as she spluttered one last time before straightening in her chair. It was enough to send hazy swirls shooting across her vision.

Definitely time.

She attempted her best come-hither smile for Mitch as she eased her hand onto his thigh. She had a clear image of what she was going for in her mind and only hoped her face was obeying her. Mitch stared at her evenly for a second, just long enough for the doubts to start up –
oh God, what if he says no, says I’m not his type
– then he leaned in close and began whispering. His line was abrupt and to the point and Rachel was very thankful for that. It led to a very simple and easy to think through reply.

‘Do you want to get out of here?’

‘Yes.’

Business done.

The catcalls from the group started the instant they stood up, as though it hadn’t only been Ben who’d been staring at her all night. They continued as they headed to the door and Rachel turned just before opening it to shoot them the finger. It only doubled the calls and despite herself, Rachel found herself blushing.

The only one not cheering was Ben and for a second the old doubts and irritation began to creep back in as she watched the smile spread across his face. But then Mitch grabbed her arm and dragged her out the door, spinning her into an awkward hug and as her lips met his, she decided there were far better things to occupy her thoughts.

DAY 4

Rachel peered down at Mitch’s head wedged between her splayed thighs and forced a moan of pleasure. Although he clearly knew what he was doing and his tongue felt nice as it plunged into her vagina, something just wasn’t right. His tongue worked away and the usual worries were at the back of her mind –
does it smell? God, she should have showered, probably all hot and sweaty down there
– but they weren’t the problem. She just couldn’t stop shooting glances at the window, certain she’d see him hunched over, his face pressed to the glass.

Even though only darkness met her eyes each time, Rachel still lamented that her blind had been perpetually wedged half-open since she’d moved in. She never got around to fixing it and cursed that fact now. Although it was flimsy and the Venetians were all bent out of shape, at least it would have offered some mild protection.

Come on, forget about it, focus on the job at hand
, she told herself as she forced another moan while Mitch went to work on her clit, tonguing circles around it and sucking it into his mouth. Her forced moan turned to one of real pleasure as the sensation exploded through her but it wasn’t enough. She already knew she wasn’t going to cum; she was too distracted for that and before she knew it her eyes were drifting over to the window again.

And the seething anger that was building inside her didn’t help at all. She tried her best to hold it back but it just kept bubbling up, slowly gaining momentum.

Fuck it!
It was meant to be her night of blowing off steam. A fun, relaxing evening with friends. A night she had desperately needed. And now it was all fucked. And she knew who was to blame.
Fucking Ben.
She knew she was being childish about it but even if he wasn’t responsible for the sprog and the missing underwear, she currently hated him just for the tatters he’d made of her evening.

Fuck, if he was present she could just happily stab him.

‘Everything alright?’

Rachel realised she’d stopped writhing and Mitch was looking up at her with concern on his face. She could see her juices glistening around his mouth and although it was arousing, she was tempted to just say,
yeah, I’m afraid so, just not really in the mood at the moment.

But it wasn’t his fault and just because Ben had ruined her night didn’t mean she had to ruin Mitch’s. Without a word, she pushed his face back into her crotch and began to grind at it as he moaned in obvious pleasure.
At least someone’s enjoying themselves
, she seethed inside at Ben. She’d been so fucking horny on the cab ride back. Mitch’s hands had been all over her and she’d been so looking forward to it. Her pelvis had been almost aching in anticipation.

But now she found herself shuddering to a faked orgasm that released no tension; that afforded her no pleasure, only added to her anger and frustration. And as Mitch clambered up her body, pressing kisses across her stomach to her breasts, and she felt his erect cock nudging at her slick entrance –
at least she was well lubricated; hard to fake arousal when you were as dry as the Gobi desert
– she couldn’t help it. She began to fantasise. And even though the voice spoke up, suggesting it probably wasn’t the best idea, she ignored it. It was the only way she’d salvage at least a modicum of enjoyment from the evening.

As he plunged into her, she pictured Ben gagged and bound to a chair; his flesh parting like her vulva as she eased the knife in ever so slowly.

The orgasm rocketed out of nowhere.

* * * * *

Ben was lost in reverie, his cock like a heated iron bar in his hand as he pressed his ear to the wall. He could only hear vague noises but he knew what they were doing in there and when he thought of it, Rachel turned into
her
and his mind was summoning up images of the past. The part of it that had always seemed to leave him so conflicted.

It would have been easier for him if
she
had just been violent. If it had just been hatred
she’d
shown him. But that hadn’t been the case and as he tried to focus his attention on the woman next door, the images kept intruding until they merged into one and Ben’s horniness only increased as he was transported back to those afternoons after school…

When the butterflies were heavy in his stomach as he sat on the couch. A giddy feeling mixed with fear and desire and the horrible knowledge that it was wrong. Oh so wrong. But even though he’d be scared, his cock was always hard in his pants. Even though he was always punished for it.

Even though he knew that later she’d be enraged.

He always hated himself for the way he eagerly listened. Both wanting to and not wanting to hear her call: Benny, mummy needs you…

His ear pressed to the wall, Ben held the key up before his eyes with his free hand. The urge to use it was nearly overwhelming. He had the power now. He didn’t have to wait for her summons. He could just stroll right in if he wanted.
Maybe with one hand hidden behind his back?

But that wasn’t right was it?
It was the key for next door he held, not the one for her bedroom. But it was hard for him to tell the difference as her summons sounded in his mind.

Benny, mummy needs you…

And suddenly Ben felt sick with excitement as he stroked away. He knew he shouldn’t, that he’d be punished, but he also knew he had no choice. Even if he hid
she
always found him and the longer he made
her
wait, the worse the punishment would be.

And
her
voice called again.

Mummy needs you…

And in his mind Ben pushed through the door and
she
was splayed out on the bed in front of him.
Her
legs spread so it yawned like a cavern before his eyes, the noises from next door just perfect and apt. His neighbour’s cries growing in volume, matching beat for beat
her
groans of pleasure.

Ben couldn’t take his eyes away as the buzzing surrounded him like a swarm of bees. As he watched her slide the vibrator in and out. Watched how it glinted beneath the lights. His dick rock hard in his pants as he wondered if he’d only be watching today.

Or would she let him touch her? Would she touch him?

Ben longed to take it out and stroke it but didn’t dare. Not with
her
looking at him like that. A look that made all the old scars itch. And even though he felt sick to the stomach with the thought of the pain that would be coming, Ben couldn’t stop himself from moving toward
her
.

There would be pain anyway because his whole life was pain.

And
she
called to him again as the flesh of
her
pussy slurped…

Benny, mummy needs you…

And Ben couldn’t hold back. He ejaculated in thick, ropy jets across his chest, his body spasming with pleasure, as in his mind he clambered onto the bed.

But suddenly everything was wrong. It had all changed and the bed was gone and he was sobbing in the corner as
she
stood over him,
her
eyes blazing and he knew what was hidden in the hand behind
her
back. And as
she
shrieked at him, flecks of spittle dotting the corners of
her
mouth, he just couldn’t stop cowering.

How dare you! How dare you do that to mummy! I should cut it off! That’s what I’ll do! Cut it off..!

The vision took Ben by surprise, burrowing into his post-ejaculatory bliss and briefly his face cracked as a sob ripped from his lips. The sounds from next door seemed to have disappeared and Ben couldn’t help wondering if maybe he’d imagined them in the first place. He sobbed again and felt wetness on his cheeks but he didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to give
her
the satisfaction and anyway, it was always worse if he cried.

They were the rules: you didn’t scream and you didn’t cry, or it got worse.

But the fear barely had time to creep in before the red started to close across his vision and his sobs cut off before they even really began. Replaced by a smile as the walls and ceiling began to form. Because he wasn’t the helpless child he was then and the power had been switched around.

Switched around so it was time for
his
revenge.

And the bench formed before his eyes, loaded with the arsenal of playthings he’d built up over the years to complement the original set of kitchen knives and it was so tempting to take the key and go next door and take her but he knew he needed to be patient; that the man she left with looked strong and that he could cause problems.

But that was okay
, Ben thought, his grin spreading wider as he realised he was now inside the Red Room again. His erection jutting out hard against the leather apron as he studied
them
hanging there limply; just patiently waiting for his ministrations.
There was plenty to keep him occupied here.

…And in his mind the two images arrived simultaneously, flashing up in split screen. In one she was writhing on the bed and there was love in her eyes. Love mixed with desire and adoration but in the other the shutters had come down and her face was wreathed in smoke and her eyes blazed with anger and disgust and he fucking hated her so much but he loved her too but hated her for making him feel so conflicted. Hated her for the mix of arousal and hatred the images caused in him.

And he moved over to number six, hanging on her hook, bathed in the glorious red hue. Her resemblance was slight: the same hair and eye colour, a vague likeness around the jaw, but she fought so much when he took her and even if she wasn’t one of his favourites, Ben wanted one that struggled now. He wanted her to fight hard. He wanted to watch as the realisation hit her. That despite her best attempts to escape, despite her belief she was a strong person, there was nothing she could do. That she was helpless.