by TJ Dallas
I rolled my eyes, reliving all the stomach cramps I’d had. You are a fucking idiot, Harry, I chastised myself.
No, you’re not. There’s no way you could have predicted this. Here— The Identical took my hand, placing it on my abdomen. She rested hers on top, and I tried to pull away, but she held me stubbornly. Relax. Wait.
Why?
Because you need to deal with this. You can’t bury your head in the sand. Just feel it. It might take some of that panic away.
I gulped and closed my eyes as the baby wriggled against the flat of my hand. My heart started racing again. The Identical held her cheek against mine.
That’s it; that’s all it is. You feel that? It won’t hurt you, she repeated.
But—
One day at a time, pet. Breathe.
20
Harry
I slumped onto the hotel bed, sinking heavily into the mattress. I was still panicking, but the Identical wasn’t there to stop me from spiralling out of control. I didn’t have the strength, or the concentration, to summon her again.
I paused before lifting a hand to my belly. I snatched it away again as soon as I felt a movement. It was too weird. I felt like it had violated my private space. My body was my own, but now I had to share it with a complete stranger, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I stared at the ceiling, focusing on the one thing I could do. I needed to develop my plan. It was late in the day now, so I’d need to start tomorrow. Planning out how to track down my attacker helped me to stay grounded.
I’d go around the bars and nightclubs of Brighton, inquiring about their CCTV and praying that they still had it. I couldn’t fathom what I’d do if they didn’t. I didn’t even know which bar he’d found me in. From what I could remember, we’d visited a number of different places over the course of the weekend, and I wondered whether anything would seem familiar. I shuddered. Surely there’s no way his face would be familiar?
I’d been racking my brain all day, trying to bring to mind a vision of what my attacker looked like. Did he have short hair? Blue eyes, green eyes, brown eyes? Was he smartly suited, or did he have an unkempt beard and holes in his T-shirt? Would my baby look like him?
I ran to the bathroom and only just made it as I vomited, on and off, for the next ten minutes.
I groaned, standing up slowly. I cupped my hands under the tap and splashed cold water on my face. I took a mouthful, swirling it around and spitting it out, trying to remove the vile taste from the back of my throat.
I stripped out of my clothes as I made my way back to the bed. I left a trail from the bathroom and crawled under the duvet. The cool sheets felt good against my skin, and I sighed, nestling further in, but there was something missing.
I missed the reassuring weight of Althea in my arms, one arm under her neck and the other around her torso, pulling her into the curve of my body. I thought of the feel of her chest moving as she breathed, her eyes fluttering as she slept.
I was so in love with her that I couldn’t contain my pulse, and it suddenly spiked.
Without warning, I thought of her breasts in my hands, their heaviness in my palms, her smooth skin against my own as I snuggled into her back. I thought of how I’d swirl my thumb around her nipple, kissing the back of her neck, and how she’d push her hips against me, a subtle sign she knew what I wished for.
I drew the duvet over my head as my thoughts escalated. The taste of her pussy on my tongue, the adrenaline in my chest as I watched an orgasm pulsing through her, the feel of her arousal on my hand as she came over my fingers.
My insides clenched, and I felt my own wetness starting to pool between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together, which just created a more pleasurable ache in my groin. I couldn’t, I thought, shaking my head. I can’t.
My hand had other ideas, and my fingertips brushed against my swollen clit. I sighed again, my breathing deepening as I rolled onto my back, spreading my legs. I swirled the soft folds of my pussy, my arousal unmistakable. After everything that’s happened today, this is what I do? I suppose it made sense; throughout the centuries, sex was the only constant in the ever-changing world around us, and it helped to relieve stress.
I made a mental note to apologise to Riley. I wasn’t ready to communicate to any of the other managers yet, and Riley was the only other one, apart from Althea, who knew what was going on. There wouldn’t be any way I’d stay in control of my dreams tonight, and she was in for a wretched night’s sleep. There was a lot of things I was skilled at, but hiding my dreams from Riley wasn’t one of them.
I let out a short groan as I swirled my clitoris faster. There was a lot that turned me on, and I had a vivid imagination. I let my imagination run wild.
I thought of Emilia, her hand in my hair as she held me down, fucking me furiously. I thought of Bella, smiling at her arousal over a mere game of cards, especially if a generous bounty was on offer. I remembered the last time she rode me, bouncing hard on my lap after she’d won close to three hundred thousand pounds in a single game of poker, hustle-free.
I thought of Madison, who’d turned out to be a lot kinkier than I’d expected. She could annoy the hell out of me, but the thought of her collar fastened around my neck, with the delicious nipple clamps attached, caused my pussy to soak. I relished it, lifting my hips from the bed, pressing on my clitoris harder. It had been months since the event with Lara, but I still hadn’t forgiven Madison for the role she’d played.
But God, did I ache for those nipple clamps.
My clit swelled, and I tilted my head back, my mouth opening in pleasure.
I thought of Riley again, picturing her sweet and innocent nature being eroded as she watched me suck Althea’s nipples in the playroom. Riley loved voyeurism, and I embraced the look on her face and the hunger in her eyes as she watched everyone else getting down and dirty. Riley was wonderfully considerate, yet the least amount of work she could do, the better. She’d often lie back while I slowly licked her pussy, nursing her clit between my lips for hours at a time. She liked tantric sex too, and I released my shoulders as I recalled what she’d taught me about relaxing and exhaling slowly when you climax. I’d used those tactics with Georgia when she was pregnant.
Georgia had aroused me exponentially, and I still couldn’t explain why. The rounded swell of her heavy belly had awakened a fire in my core, but now it caused me to retract my hand, my eyes flying open.
I yanked the duvet down and took a few deep breaths of cold air, a shiver shooting up my spine. A sharp kick from the baby, and the moment was gone. Yes, I know, I muttered. You don’t have to keep reminding me.
I couldn’t bring myself to keep going. I still needed to release the pressure, but every time I closed my eyes, I pictured Georgia cupping her belly, moaning as I pushed my fingertips inside her. Each image of her now generated a renewed wave of terror inside me, and I was helpless, suddenly remembering the agony she’d endured giving birth on my bathroom floor.
I refused to throw up again, and I swallowed down the nausea. I forced those thoughts from my mind, trying to concentrate on anything else I could possibly think of.
I can help. Riley’s voice reverberated quietly in my mind.
I’d been so conscious about focusing my thoughts on anyone except Georgia, that I’d dropped my walls. I put them back up again, but I didn’t block Riley. She was well known for calming people down, and perhaps I needed her. I wouldn’t tell her that; Pride needed no one but herself.
In what way? I replied.
Close your eyes.
Why?
Just do as you’re told.
I sensed her smile. I had nothing better to do, and I found if I fixated on her voice, it helped soothe me. I obediently closed my eyes, hoping she was going to talk me to the edge. That orgasm might yet be achievable if she could hold my attention for long enough.
> I woke up late afternoon the following day.
Damn it, Riley.
I stepped into the shower, sighing as the hot water trailed over my skin, causing goosebumps and a delightful shudder. I held my head under the spray, soaking my hair and trying to rid myself of yesterday.
As soon as I’d woken up and taken a peek at the unfamiliar hotel room, my mind had careened back into panic-mode like a slow motion car crash. I remembered where I was, what I was doing, and why I was there.
I shook my head, trying to force myself back to the present. I virtually heard the Identical whispering, Breathe, pet. One day, one hour, one minute at a time, if that’s what you need.
I focused on the water, the way the steam made breathing easier, the pattering of the droplets on the base of the shower, the warmth spreading across my shoulder blades. I discovered a small bottle of shampoo and squinted at the label, pouring it out into my hand. It smelled of coconut, and I lathered my hair with it, massaging my scalp and ignoring anything other than the feel of my hair in my fingers. I combed my fingertips through, lightly teasing and untangling, and eventually stood under the spray again, rinsing the dirt away.
I conditioned the tips and scrubbed myself with the soap. I washed my entire body, over and over again, yet I was unable to remove the notion that I wasn’t clean. There was something inside me that I couldn’t get rid of, and the prospect that a random man had put his dirty hands on me was revolting. I started to get light-headed as the nausea returned, although now I couldn’t be sure whether it was a side effect of the pregnancy itself or my emotions in response to the despicable situation I’d found myself in.
I opened the door of the shower, letting in some cool air. I sank to my knees in case I fainted and remained there for longer than I cared to disclose. I felt tears beginning to gather in the corner of my eyes again, but I forced them away, stiffening my jaw.
Do what Pride does and take fucking ownership, I thought. Do not regret it, and stop wishing it’ll change, because it won’t. Stop feeling goddamn sorry for yourself, and stand up. Right now.
I pressed my foot against the floor, my thigh shaking as I forced myself to rise. I was my own worst enemy, and my subconscious was seizing control now.
Don’t you dare drop again. Lift your chin, and open your eyes.
I released my shoulders, tilting my head back. I faced my reflection in the mirror.
I stared, locking myself in a fierce glare. My reflection hadn’t changed. My stomach was still flat, and I hadn’t gained twenty pounds overnight. My skin was still smooth, no stretch marks across my abdomen, no swollen ankles. My legs were still long, my dark hair still cascaded over my shoulders, my heterochromatic eyes were still bright, if not a little red.
My breasts were bigger, though, and I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from pulling up in a small grin. I still had the body I was proud of. Years of hard exercise and weight-lifting hadn’t been stolen from me. I flexed my bicep. My tattooed sleeve rippled as the muscles tightened, and I smiled, finally feeling my former self.
My confident, egocentric, vanity-driven self.
Time to find this motherfucker.
21
Harry
I looked up at the monument, holding my arm up to shield against the glaring sunlight. The Peace Statue of Hove sat beside Brunswick Lawn, the starting place of the Brighton Pride parade. I remembered seeing the statue the first time, only this time, I didn’t feel any semblance of peace.
The draped, winged female stood atop her globe, carrying her olive branch, and all I could think of was that my attacker could be any of the men walking around me right now.
I eyed each one who sauntered past, my jaw tight, unsure what I expected to see. I doubted I’d recognise him; I had nothing to go on. He could be anyone.
I started trudging along King’s Road. I figured the parade route was as good a place as any to begin my search, and I glanced towards the beach as I walked. It was a warm day, and families lounged on the sand. I saw sandcastles, a dog racing after a Frisbee, children paddling—
An inexplicable lump caught in my throat, and I looked away.
I came across my first bar and nipped inside. It was cool and dim, and I drifted in with my hands buried in my pockets, scanning the faces of the customers inside. A football match was on TV, and I felt a shudder passing through me at the volume of males in attendance. My heart started beating faster, but I kept my feet moving.
I browsed the bar, not looking for anything specific, but gauging the layout, seeking anything that seemed familiar. Nothing did. I sighed as I approached the bar. A cute bartender with a blonde ponytail smiled as I got closer.
“Hello,” she said. “What can I get you?”
“Nothing, I’m fine, thanks. But a brief word with the manager would be great.” Her face fell as I made my request. “I don’t have a complaint; it’s OK.” I smiled. “I just need to know how long you keep the CCTV for.”
“I’ll ask him; hang on.”
I bowed my head and focused on the back wall behind the bar. The clamours of the crowd were getting louder, the football match most likely at a decisive stage of the game. I willed my heart to stop hammering.
I’d never felt vulnerable before, and I didn’t like it. My defences had crumbled once, and I feared they could fall again, without my knowledge. It was terrifying, knowing someone had isolated me, right out from under Althea’s arm. They’d rendered me incapable of realising what was happening and unable to remember a single thing about it afterwards.
An incredible roar shot up around me, and I reeled around with my eyes wide. The crowd were on their feet, their hands in the air, cheering whichever team it was that scored. I swallowed hard, my chest constricting.
I needed to get out. The air was closing in, and there were people in front of the exit.
I propelled myself through the door, shouldering through a large group of people. I darted outside, back into the daylight, and stood against the wall, closing my eyes. I took a few deep breaths, concentrating on the warmth of the late afternoon sun bearing down on me. I urged my fists to uncurl. I remained still until I heard a polite voice.
“Are you OK?”
It was the cute bartender. There was concern in her eyes, and I scowled at my behaviour. It was unseemly of me, and I needed to get back in control.
“Yes, pet.” I flashed my most charming smile. “You were quicker than I expected,” I said, pulling a cigarette from my pocket. “I didn’t even have time to light up.”
“Oh, sorry.” She giggled. She had gorgeous brown eyes and an innocence I hadn’t seen in a while. I stood taller, twisting my body towards her and leaning a shoulder against the wall. I was pleased when she blushed.
“I just wanted to let you know that we keep our CCTV for thirty days.” She nodded, and I felt the colour drain from my face. Not a good start.
“Thank you.”
“No worries. Enjoy your day …?” Her voice lingered, and I considered her a moment longer.
“Harry.”
“Enjoy your day, Harry.” She grinned, and a few seconds later, she’d disappeared. I checked out her arse before she vanished. She wore a pair of skinny blue jeans and a short black apron tied around her waist. Before I knew it, she was gone again, and I was alone once more.
I sighed and slipped the cigarette back into my pocket.
As I’d slept so late, I only managed to scout out around twenty pubs before I began to get hungry. I’d finished the parade route and now loitered inside the most recent one. This place was quieter, away from the busyness of the shore front, and I found a narrow table in a distant corner. I kept my back against the wall, eyeing up the door each time it opened. The waiter came across, and I acknowledged him with a nod.
“A club sandwich with extra mayonnaise and a bottle of Budwei— a glass of water, please.”
I couldn’t smoke, and I couldn’t even drink beer. These next two months will suck, whichever way I look at it.
The emotions swirling around inside me reminded me how Lara had felt when she’d hit rock bottom. I’d taken her depression from her, and I’d deserved the next couple of months of misery, knowing how badly I’d failed her. Deep down, I knew I wouldn’t follow the same course she did. I was a warrior and always had been, but nevertheless, I wished I didn’t feel as awful as I did. I needed someone to fix this, and no one could. I felt inexplicably lonely.
Only three of the pubs I’d tried still had CCTV footage from the Pride weekend. I’d watched it, searching for our recognisable group of five women in matching white Bi-Pride T-shirts. We hadn’t been in any of those three pubs.
I faintly recognised the layout of one pub, déjà vu thrumming through me as I nipped to the bathroom, but their CCTV footage was only kept for thirty days, and it was worthless to me.
I uttered a quiet thanks to the waiter as he brought over my sandwich, but I recoiled at the smell. Grimacing, I lifted the top layer of toasted bread to inspect the filling. I took a tentative bite and spat it back out.
Motioning the waiter back, I thrust my plate towards him. “There’s something wrong with that chicken,” I grumbled. “I can’t eat that.”
He apologised profusely and offered me something else, but I waved him away. I was tired now, and I craved nothing more than to be in the relative safety of my hotel room with the door bolted. I’d order a takeaway and have it delivered to reception.
The thought of walking back made my stomach churn, but I wouldn’t hail a taxi. I was just glad it wasn’t raining. My brain created flashbacks and unusual moments of uneasiness if anything around me involved men, taxis, or rain. My alarm throughout the day had all been induced by men, and I was getting frustrated. How dare one man make me fearful of half of the whole goddamn population? My confidence was wavering, and I scowled again.
