Darkroom

by Poppet

  "Victor!"

  *I lean back, satisfied. Finally Vengeance re-emerges to remind her of God's law. A woman must know her place. They're all sinners. Whores tempted by the snake. Eating forbidden fruit which they then ruin righteous men with. I have allowed Vengeance the benefit of the doubt. He believes he can turn a woman. But watching this one, my opinion is strengthened. "Yet your desire and craving will be for your husband, and he will rule over you." Genesis 3:16. God hardwired all women to fall on their knees for physical pleasure. They cannot help but submit to sins of the flesh.*

  Chapter 17

  You don't take a photograph, you make it.

  ~Ansel Adams

  Naked I run from the darkroom to grab my jeans. Ruffling the bed, then my hair and eyes; rubbing them hard to make it seem like they are sensitive.

  Switching on the light next to the door so she can hear it, I unlock and open it. My eyes sweep over her exposed body, glistening wetly. Hair sodden. With so much petrol on her she'll never smell it on me. "Shauna! Good God what happened to you?"

  She thrusts past me staring around wildly. I button my jeans as I watch the sexy bottom lip of my dirty angel tremor.

  "Are you okay?" she blurts with obvious panic.

  "You mean aside from having a hysterical neighbour running in here at 3 a.m, drenched in … petrol?" Walking deliberately to her, I cup her chin in a firm grasp, staring at her pupils. "What did you take?"

  Trembling fingers wrap tensely around my thick wrist. She's so dainty.

  "You are in danger." Her eyes flick nervously between the doors.

  "What happened to you?" I make a play of modesty by trying to close her sliced camisole.

  She points a shaking finger at the open front door. "Man in my apartment … "

  "Did he do this to you?"

  She nods, terror dilating her pupils. The blood still pooling slowly from the incision I made under her eye. Scarlet suits her. This is my moment. Releasing her I stalk away barefoot. My movement silent, deadly. Forcing the smile deep into my gut, scowling at her as I stride back past from my bedroom, popping a round into the chamber of the nine millimetre.

  "Lock the door and only let me in." I keep walking, stealthily crossing the passage and slipping into her home.

  My eyes feel the smug smile my poker face hides as I walk to shut the sliding door to her balcony. She has a security gate. It's my lucky day that she left both open. Rifling through her underwear drawer I select a sheer white g-string. Moving to the bathroom I collect her robe and shampoo. I check each room, making sure my fingerprints are left behind. Picking up her keys, I lock the door behind me. Walking to my own, forcing a frown of concern, knocking sharply.

  "Shauna."

  She pries the door open, huge eyes wide with fear. Her smile is unconvincing. Deliberately I snap the barrel on the nine-mil next to her as I step back in. She flinches predictably.

  "There's no one there now." Concerned glare, "Did you go to bed leaving your sliding door open?"

  She nods, her chin now shaking with distress.

  Lacing my fingers through hers, I lead her to the bathroom. Casually putting the gun down on the bookshelf on the way. "You have to clean up." Watching her shame as I pry the wet lingerie off her. Loving that she's trusting me so completely already. Gently I hold her hands, sitting her down on the toilet seat lid, propping myself on the edge of the tub to stare into her sparkly eyes.

  "Want to tell me what happened?"

  "He, he …" She stops to breathe with exaggeration. "He ejaculated on me."

  I show no emotion, presenting myself as the logical, impartial neighbour. "So that's why the petrol. It would have destroyed any DNA evidence."

  Frightened eyes stare into mine as her hands tighten around my fingers.

  "You are flammable. The skin is the largest organ and you absorb a lot through it." Standing I switch the shower on and adjust the temperature. "I brought you some underwear and your robe. I'll find a t-shirt for you, I couldn't locate your pyjamas." Turning to her with a supportive smile. My voice, forced gentleness. "It's okay. You can stay here. A naked woman is just that. A naked woman. I usually see them anaesthetised, but you have no reason to fear." Plucking the camisole off the floor I hold out my hand expectantly, waiting for her pink knickers.

  Unable to look at me, she keeps her wet hair masking half her face as she stares at the hand. Reluctantly removing her modesty and handing it to me.

  "You shower, I'm going to burn these."

  She nods, keeping her eyes averted. Picking up the shampoo and stepping into the shower I enjoy the view as she closes the frosted door. Moving onto my own balcony, placing the evidence into the kettle barbecue, I drop a lit match, finally indulging in a smile of triumph.

  I've made us both coffee and notice her silent arrival just as I'm pouring Tia Maria into hers.

  "You could use the alcohol." I hand the mug to her, watching her sip. Taking a swallow of my own, appreciating her clean scent and glowing skin. That robe suctions onto her body magnificently, outlining femininity ready for service. She catches my stare. Looking instantly chastised.

  "Victor I'm so rude. I never thanked you!"

  Relaxing with my hip against the kitchen island, I stare down at her. I relish it when she's uncomfortable.

  "And opening the door like that with Sarah. I didn't mean to disrespect you. I'd had far too much alcohol and it seemed like a really good idea at the time."

  "You seem to lead a very interesting life, Shauna. And I thought you were a hermit." Stepping in, I finger the lapel between her breasts, "I saw this and thought of you. Thinking it would suit you. It does."

  Her shy smile widens.

  "I don't deserve a neighbour, or friend, as wonderful as you."

  Finishing my coffee I stare pointedly at my watch. "Where do you want to sleep tonight?" I hide a grin as she rushes the alcohol into her system, diluted with coffee.

  She's buying time. Anticipating her next move I rub my hand between her shoulder blades, kneading the vertebrae that poke out in vulnerability. "Are you okay? Need a hug?"

  Nodding, she steps closer, wrapping slender arms around my waist. Pressing a cheek into my torso just below my chest. So tiny and delicate. And all mine soon. Holding her assertively, I wait for her to break the contact.

  Smiling as impartially as I can, I stare down at her when she disengages her yielding body from mine. "Where do you want to crash?"

  She hesitates. Squirming visually. "May I sleep with you?"

  Arching my eyebrows I double check, "You sure?"

  She nods, finally a genuine smile teasing sensual lips over her teeth. "I'm scared to be alone."

  Giving her a wink, I wrap an arm casually over her shoulders, leading her into my bedroom. Leaving her standing alone at the base of the bed, while I deliberately unearth a military vest from the closet. I know it will be too big. If she's sleeping with me, I want to feel her with me when she's deep in slumber.

  I turn from her, giving her a modicum of privacy. Deliberately pulling off my jeans and stepping into boxers as if we'd been married for ten years with a level of intimacy and comfort we have yet to achieve. Feeling the weight of her stare, I fold my jeans, and climb into bed.

  She waited to see which side I sleep on, before crawling under the black cover to my right. I give her a cute smile. It isn't difficult to inject affection into it. I switch off the lamp, which switches off every light inside my home. Settling comfortably I whisper, "Goodnight Shauna."

  "Goodnight."

  The Rohypnol in her coffee should take effect soon enough. Rolling onto my back I wrap a lazy arm under my head. The dirty angel finally recognises her saviour. My smile broadens, hidden by night, as she slips her hand in mine. I give it a squeeze of reassurance. The time has come to replace her contraception with folic acid pills.

  Chapter 18

  And only the photographer himself knows the effect he wants. He should know by instinct, grounded in experience, what s
ubjects

  are enhanced by hard or soft,

  light or dark treatment.

  ~Bill Brandt

  Victor makes me feel like I'm doing something forbidden, my heart's in my throat with anxiety severe enough to snatch my breath erratically.

  Yet I find him magnetically attractive, calming and protective. His demeanour and manner are serene.

  Nothing seems to alarm or phase him; a haven in this Hades chaos. He just knows what to say and do. The reassuring hand massaging my back. Not once did he look at me as though I'm strange, with a cut under my eye and an eyebrow missing.

  Both make me feel like a reject, which I defiantly wasn't going to expose. The coffee did help, instantly relaxing my nerves. That is, until he took his jeans off. I'd been staring at the tattoo on the top muscle of his right arm. He's well defined in that effortless masculine way.

  If Vengeance hadn't reprimanded me, I would probably make a move on him.

  Lying here in the dark, feeling his strong warm fingers around mine, infusing me with safety, I'm suppressing a belly laugh. How I can laugh now is beyond me. But then I used to laugh when really nervous as a teenager. Dialogue is running through my head.

  "Where do you want to sleep tonight?" Talk about a loaded question.

  That's like me asking him, "What do you like in a woman?" Waaaaahahaha. The answer is usually, "My dick." Mirth rises and I pretend a cough to disguise it. I mean come on, I was doused with petrol, and who put out the fire? Metaphorically this guy is loaded. Total gigglemania. I ran to him, and he's just so capable in every way. No hesitation to protect me. I'd crawl over coals to have a man like this. He has no fear.

  "Do you usually laugh when you are trying to sleep?"

  "I think it's a delayed reaction. I'm feeling delirious. Euphoric even."

  "Shauna, when are you going to tell me what's really going on?"

  Anxiety squeezes my lungs. Dare I tell him?

  I feel him move, his heat lining my arm, easy breath tickling the hair off my face. Why is it so freaking dark tonight? It's like being in a darkroom. Or the pitch still of a cinema before the movie begins. "Do you ever wonder if you would do things that will endanger you, if you think today is the day you'll die? Or do you ever think, what the hell, I'm going to die, I may as well enjoy the journey regardless?"

  "Are you avoiding the question?"

  I twist onto my side, sculpting the duvet away in curvaceous elevation. He can't see me anyway. And this vest is too narrow at the top. I feel a boob pop out in exposure, now I'm glad that it's so dark. "No, it's just …"

  "Shauna, I promise that whatever you tell me, I'll treat as doctor-patient confidentiality."

  The sincerity and gentle tone of his voice bring prickles of moisture to my eyes. Suddenly serious, I take a deep breath. Face your fears, right? "I'm crazy. I lost my mind. The last year of my life is a torturous hallucination. Except now it's manifesting into my reality, and everyone who knows me."

  "You can't manifest a hallucination."

  "Victor, I feel safe with you. But you aren't safe with me. I'm putting your life in danger just by being here."

  "How?"

  "I'm not allowed to have love, or sex. If I do, something bad happens to the person who loves me, or touches me. You saw John's car explode. That's what I'm talking about."

  "Shauna, you're not making a whole lot of sense. How about you start at the beginning?"

  In this moment of extreme vulnerability, I drop my guard. Telling him almost everything. Omitting the earrings and tattoo. I don't know why but I'm ashamed of them.

  "I went out dancing at a club with three girlfriends. I went looking behind the building for Natasha. Expecting to find her scoring E. Instead someone grabbed me, pushing a needle into my neck, pulling a bag over my head. The high heels and alcohol had me off balance. And I was no match for a lucid, strong man." Relaying my hell. Sobbing, tears, disbelief shrouds me when he snuggles me right up against him, kissing my forehead systematically. Never interrupting. Never disputing.

  Shuddering with the last replay of tonight, he kisses me. Shocking me silent. It isn't just any kiss either. It's not polite or sympathetic. It's not about comfort. Instantly I'm aware of how close we are. Skin pressing against skin. His curtains must be rubber lined because no light penetrates in here from outside. Reminding me momentarily of the cell. All of my senses sharpen with proximity. Feeling the hairs on his legs caressing my skin. The hand holding the base of my spine, keeping me pressed against him.

  Everything in me clenches with the penetration of his tongue into my mouth. It's deeply arousing, causing heat to diffuse into my cheeks while an aphrodisiac cocktail heats my knickers. Definitely not gay then. Attraction knocks loudly with that thought.

  His mouth sucks out my lower lip, his nose touching mine, breath fusing together erotically. I'm feeling vulnerable and needy. Tempted to kiss him when he inhales to speak. I'd rather have body language now, than placations. Entwining my leg between his, I communicate willingness, silently. Content to stay here, absorbing his strength. Encircled, I feel safe from Vengeance here. I know Victor won't hurt me. He's different.

  "You are so much stronger than you look."

  I can feel his heart beating under my palm, steady and sure. A finger depresses my bottom lip, tracing inside it suggestively. "We can't. He'll kill you."

  "I say we test this theory of yours."

  "I don't know how, but he sees everything I do, just like an omnipresent angel."

  "He just hasn't approved of your choices. I'm not surprised. Mark is it? He fucked you and left. He didn't even have the decency to kiss you good-bye"

  "I know, but I don't believe he committed suicide. I know Vengeance got to him."

  "You don't think that perhaps these are all perfectly overlapping coincidences?"

  "No. And I like you too much to have you die because of me."

  "I don't fear death. I want to test this. I'm scientific by nature. If he's watching, I want to be your experiment."

  I wish I could read his eyes. A part of me is desperate for the validation. To celebrate the life so nearly ended when staring at that lone flame tonight. I want to submerse myself in life celebrating pleasure; hiding in his strong arms, relishing his embrace. But then, I'll end up losing the only friend I have.

  A gentle hand traces my face before holding it. He kisses me so deeply and passionately that my cage doors rip off with diabolic fervour. Tentatively slinking my hands around his head, fingernails in soft hair, urgently returning the passion that's annihilating my reserve. He's warm, and comforting in his natural strength. His build reassuring. There's something about him. I do believe he's capable of anything. He would survive a nuclear explosion intact. He just has that silent presence of power about him.

  Ignoring fear, I wrap a leg over his hip. Pushing erogenous zones together with hungry pressure. A thrill jolts through me when his body hardens, pressing deliciously, arousing me. I know he can feel it with that hand possessively holding my breast. Gasping raggedly, I can't think when his tongue and stubble introduce themselves to my neck. Pushing myself deeper into his hand, blindly I seek his mouth. Pulling him so that I can wrap both of my legs tightly around him. Needing this. Inhaling his fresh scent like a hit from a hookah, getting just as dizzy. Finding subliminal refuge in the masculinity that breathes into me, presses teasingly up into me, with the hairs on his arms imprisoning mine, his weight suggestive of solid strength; this is both comforting and turning me inside out. I want him. Need him. "I want you …"

  My body is lethargic; I'm unresponsive when he settles himself on me. I can feel the pressure, but coherence is drifting away. Slipping thoughts, can't think. Clutching on to random impressions. Stubble, lips, tongue, neck … Hand, skin on skin. Lost clothes? When … The last image, the sharp inhalation of breath when his warm body slips inside mine. It's a shock. Closing my eyes with my body's moist pulsating reaction to him.

  ***

  Dominance is e
stablished inside the first thirty seconds of meeting anyone. Subconsciously she submitted to me before she even knew my name, standing outside her door. There are rules of domination. Biblical rules no longer in the Bible. Adam divorced Lilith because she would not submit to his sexual authority. She would not lie under him. The woman is of lesser stature. She cannot dominate the man. If she thinks she can, her thinking is deficient and must be corrected. The first copulation engaged in must have the male dominating her, for success.

  I know Shauna won't remember any of this, but she is willing to submit. Submit to my authority. Women have a discrepancy hardwired into them. They lust. I will not allow this woman to be on top until she has accepted her position in this relationship. She will kneel for me. She will lay under me in my shadow. I will cover her with my brilliance, overshadowing. Filling her with my purity. Her earrings are back in. Her left ear wearing my father's A, for Alpha. In her right ear she wears my symbol. The omega . My father gave me the mark. It is biblical to wear the father's mark.

  Marking her as our servant forever. She will find joy in this servitude. Now I cover her. We follow the oldest ways. A woman is not suitable for marriage until she has shown she is fertile. I will give Alpha no reason to put this lamp out, or hide it under a bushel. I will give her my mark under her skin. She shall willingly wear the . I have complete faith that this is the one. The angel sacrificed for a new beginning. Finally restoring the balance. Correcting the first sin. She has not tempted me, I tempted her. She fell to my temptation and finally trusts me.

  I succumb to the temple open beneath me. Her youthful body pliant and willing. Juicy heat kisses my rod of command with the precision of the first copulation. I want her to hurt. To know this isn't about her pleasure. It's about mine. She was created to serve me. I want to tear her. So that for days she will remember who her master is. I am. The Omega. Vengeance the maker and taker. I made her. Now I take her. She must remember this bruising, the rupturing of delicate skin to accommodate me. I want her walk to loudly announce she' s owned. I'm claiming my lost property.