‘You’ll come and get me? In your car? Not send a taxi?’
She was nearly his.
‘Of course I will. I wouldn’t trust you and that beautiful body of yours to a taxi.’ He smiled. She didn’t answer, so he continued. ‘I’ll pick you up about eight. Wear the perfume. Hang on a moment and I’ll give you to Terry, and she’ll write down your address. Ok?’ Not waiting to hear an answer he shouted for Terry.
She was coming. Well of course she was! Why wouldn’t she? He was Robert D’Lyn.
When Terry came into the room, he sat with his arm outstretched shaking the phone at her,
‘Take Becky’s address will you. And get some directions for me. Then put a bottle of … hang on.’ He put the phone back to his ear, ‘What d’you like to drink, besides champagne?’ After listening he held the phone towards Terry again, ‘find something white and sweetish, and open a bottle of Chianti for me.’ Terry took the phone from him, but he didn’t look up at her, not wanting to see the kind of face she was pulling. He heard her talking to Becky as she left the room. He supposed he should go and have a shower before going to get her and felt a little excitement rising at the prospect of her being here, sitting next to him.
Closing his eyes, he recalled the last time they had been sitting on the settee together. His hand slid down the length of her hair, letting it fall through his fingers, the sensation so reminiscent of old times he closed his eyes and lifted it to his nose. A faint odour of clean shampoo. Although it was pleasant, he felt a tiny stirring of anger. It wasn’t the right smell. He placed his face into the crook of her neck to kiss her, and smelt her perfume; cheap and slightly acrid to his nose. Again the wrong smell.
The anger rose a notch higher.
When he put his hand over her breast she responded by putting her hands around his neck, and whispered his name. He had to tell her to shut up! He didn’t want to hear her common little voice. She withdrew then, and so he gently coaxed her back, stroking her and kissing her.
But the anger nagged away inside; the smell was wrong; her reactions were wrong and he couldn’t forget how she had insulted him. As he kissed, her the anger grew with the lack of sensation in his groin. Playing with her nipples, she began to moan, causing the anger to increase. Why should she be enjoying this when it wasn’t right for him?
Opening his eyes he looked at her. She looked back, worry apparent in her eyes,
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
The anger was fuelled.
What’s wrong? How dare she? Nothing was wrong with him. It was her, not him. She didn’t excite him. It was her fault. He smiled at her.
‘Nothing’s wrong with me.’
He leaned in, putting his lips against hers and forced her head down onto the arm of the settee. While kissing her he pulled up her dress, pushed his knees between her legs and thrust his fingers hard inside her. She struggled; tried to pull her head away; her back convulsed in an attempt to move, but he held her hard. He bit into her lips hard, keeping his mouth covering hers so she couldn’t scream; her hands beat against him, trying to push him off. His fingers thrust deeper.
Pulling his head away, he looked down at her as she stopped struggling; her voice gone, as she responded to his fingers. He fell on her with his teeth, biting her neck then her breasts, hard. Unable to stop until the sound of her scream cut into his head.
Robert opened his eyes. He got up and placed another log on the fire, but the erection made it awkward for him to bend down, instead he picked up the poker and stoked the ashes. Flames leapt once more. Terry had taken her home later; arranged the flower delivery and sent a cheque. He had sent the perfume personally though.
Tonight it would be different, it would be good. She would be wearing the right perfume; she would smell right. And tonight they were not going to talk about his paintings; she was going to listen to him talk, she would agree with him. And everything would be right. Yes, tonight it was going to be quite different.
.
Part Two
Taking Control
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Chapter One
Robert stood in the kitchen, watching Terry bustle around. Her earphones in, she sang as she worked, to some non-existent music, certainly nothing he recognised. What did she have to be so happy about? Watching her work, he thought, as he usually did, whenever he ventured into this area of the house, which was not very often, it really wasn’t a well planned kitchen. The cupboards were spread out, the oven yards away from the sink, the washing machine and dishwasher were also too far away. What plumber had done that? Again, as usual he wasn’t bothered by it, because it didn’t affect his life. Terry was paid to put up with it. The worst aspect, and something that sometimes did affect him, was the distance from the kitchen to the dining room. He wasn’t keen on cold food.
There was a dining area as part of the kitchen; an antique pine table, surrounded with four chairs. He certainly never ate there. He wasn’t sure if anyone ever did, then supposed Terry must eat there sometimes, because she certainly never ate with him.
‘What d’you want?’ Terry yelled over the silent music when she turned round to see him in the doorway.
‘Checking everything is ok.’ From the look on her face even though she couldn’t hear his reply she knew what he was saying. She pulled an ear plug from one ear.
‘Of course it is.’ Then replacing the ear plug she continued washing salad, her head nodding from side to side, her hips swaying slightly and he could just hear her singing in a whisper to herself. He was totally unmoved by her body’s movements. There was nothing, absolutely nothing that he found attractive about her. Her hair, mousy and a mess, and her clothes, non-descript, like her face, he thought. Fucking dyke. He was sure of it. Although he had never seen the proof, she had never had a man around either, which just proved his point. Watching her, he realized he knew no more about her now than when she came to work for him. God it must be nearly three years ago now.
He’d been impressed how she arrived with her backpack at the interview, ready to start work there and then; recognising the look in her eyes. She was running away from something or someone. He wasn’t interested and didn’t care about the who or why, except how it would work for him. As long as she was on the run, she would stay with him and be cheap at the price. He hired her on the spot; she was ready and he was desperate. The pay and isolation of the job didn’t attract many people.
He deliberately kept his name out of the adverts because he didn’t want to attract the ‘fame diggers’ as he called them. Bad experiences had taught him some applicants were not so much interested in his money as his celebrity status; all they wanted was a part of his fame, to be in magazines and be famous themselves. Just for working for him! Fucking bitches on heat. He was glad how Terry chose to avoid the lime light, never pushing herself forward. It was such a shame she was such a fucking dyke, because they could have had a great relationship.
She proved surprisingly good at her job; putting up with his foul moods and language; she sorted out his problems; learnt his habits. But, he decided, she would not be coming with him on his tour to Japan. She was really beginning to get on his nerves, she just wasn’t diffident enough. Something had changed recently between them, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Her insolence was worse than usual, in fact lately she’d been fucking rude to him. No, it was time to find someone else. She may know more about him than he did about her. But who the fuck cared? She was a nobody; an ignorant shitty little dyke.
He turned away from the kitchen towards the games room. Once there, he sat at the bar, took a packet of cigarettes from his top pocket and pulled the lighter from his trouser pocket. He inhaled deeply then, as he exhaled, looked at his watch. It was minutes away from seven o’clock. She would be here any minute; she was never late.
He’d tried not to get ready too early; having a swim before his shower. Terry ironed his shirt and laid his clothes out for him; a sea green shirt and light beige trousers. He’d
have felt more comfortable in his jeans but Stephanie had spoken to Terry. He noticed Terry had also tided his bedroom carefully; clean towels in the bathroom; a couple of extra toothbrushes on the window sill; new soap in the dish. Stephanie must have had quite a conversation with Terry.
The anticipation of Stephanie being in the house again, was almost too much. He looked over at the optics desperate for a drink, but the idea of Stephanie’s wrath at his drinking was not worth inviting. Instead he picked up a billiard cue. He could always do with the practice. Placing the cigarette in the corner of his mouth he aimed the cue at the white ball. As the ball cruised down the baize he heard the door bell ring. Deliberately placing the cue back in the stand, before forcing himself to walk slowly to the door, he heard Terry run across the hall before him. He glared hatred at her as she grinned towards him, wiped her hands down her trousers and opened the door.
‘Stephanie,’ she breathed, ‘you look stunning.’ She lunged towards her, arms going to her neck and kissed her eagerly on the lips.
Robert watched, repulsed as Stephanie stepped into the hallway and returned Terry’s kiss. Christ she kissed her on the lips. Surely she hadn’t been there? She wouldn’t have lowered herself so low. Not Stephanie. But watching them, Robert couldn’t be sure. Stephanie was saying something quietly about how well she looked and hugging her, regardless of her dress against Terry’s dirty clothes. No, Stephanie was just being her usual nice self. Terry was not her type, Robert convinced himself.
‘Terry! For godsake, put her down!’ he shouted, too loudly, ‘Stephanie doesn’t need you slobbering all over her.’ Stephanie looked up and over at him, her face less than pleased. ‘Steph,’ he held his hands out to her.
‘You look divine, Robert,’ she said soothingly. She turned her face avoiding his lips, and let him kiss her on the cheek. He consoled himself with the thought he would get one later, and more than a hug. Over her shoulder he glowered at Terry, and as Stephanie moved away he said,
‘Two glasses of wine,’ turned to Stephanie, ‘or champagne?’
‘Oh, champagne, I think,’ she turned to Terry, who smiled back at her before going to the kitchen. ‘And one for yourself, Terry.’ She added before Robert could stop her.
Robert took her hand, guiding her to the games room. Her long silver dress extenuating every contour of her body. She did look stunning and the colour suited her. Her hair hung loose down her naked back. Without thinking he placed his hand on her head and let it slide down her hair. Before he reached her shoulders, she silently moved away, leaving his hand flapping in the air.
‘Are you warm enough?’
She nodded.
He wished Sarah wasn’t coming, but if she wasn’t then Stephanie wouldn’t be here.
Terry came in with two filled glasses.
‘Where’s the bottle?’ he demanded as she handed a glass to Stephanie.
‘In the kitchen, where d’you think? I’ve only got two hands!’
‘Ever heard of a tray?’ he asked as she handed him his glass. She looked at him with just as much hatred.
Taking a sip, the cold bubbles going down his throat relaxed him a little. He didn’t have much time before Sarah arrived, and he wanted Stephanie to himself for as long as possible.
‘Well? Get back in the kitchen. We’ll let you know if we need anything!’ He moved to stand beside Stephanie again.
‘If she’s not busy, she could join us for a few moments to have a drink? Surely?’ Stephanie said before Terry could leave the room.
‘She’s too busy. Aren’t you Terry?’ He stared at her, daring her to disagree with him.
‘Thank you Stephanie, but I’ll drink it in the kitchen. I need to keep an eye on the food.’ She strolled out of the room. Robert took a gulp of his drink. He was alone with her. Not another soul was there with them. God how long had it been? He put his hand on her knee.
‘Let’s play.’ She said as she put her glass down on the bar and slipped down off the stool.
‘Umm, yes ok, if you like.’ He sighed, placed his own glass beside hers and moved around the table towards her. ‘Practised lately?’
She was carefully weighing a couple of cues in her hands, and choosing the smaller lighter one, she replaced the other before answering him.
‘No, not really. Nowhere to practice.’
That was what he had hoped she would say. She was very good at playing, and had beaten him a few times, but he reasoned he would be able to beat her tonight. He hoped so. Leaning against the wall, he let her rack the balls so he could watch her move.
‘You can always come and practice here, any time you like.’
‘Shall I break?’ She smiled across the table at him.
‘Go ahead.’
Despite her remarks of not having practised, she hit the triangle of balls with the white ball remarkably accurately, and the balls washed across the green. She potted the brown and a red with the ease of a professional. But on the third ball she missed.
‘Oh such a shame,’ he smiled at her as he picked up his own favourite cue. His smile was true, he was very glad she had missed. He couldn’t bear to lose tonight. He leant down over the table and took careful aim. The door bell rang.
He looked up, she was looking at him. He glanced at his watch. It was still only two minutes to seven. She was bloody early. He would have no time alone with Stephanie at all. Neither moved. Finally Terry’s footsteps could be heard on the hall tiles making her way to the door, this time in no hurry. Robert continued to look at Stephanie, but she was now looking eagerly towards the door. If he turned his head, he knew he would be able to see the door and watch her come in. But he kept his eyes on Stephanie, wanting to see the look on her face when she saw Sarah.
The footsteps now echoed as two pairs of feet walked towards the games room. Neither of them moved, he remained poised, ready to take his shot, only his eyes were still on Stephanie.
Terry came in, announcing,
‘Sarah’s here’ and then turned to walk out.
Stephanie’s face changed, so subtly, someone who didn’t know her as well as Robert did, would not have noticed the change. But Robert noticed, he saw the gleam in her eyes, the smile remained the same, but the gleam—it was the real thing. He dreamed of that look; dreamed she would look at him that way. But she never had and he knew deep inside she never would.
The first time he had seen it, he had been devastated. They had known each other for over two years. He had felt so hurt, so angry, as if she had betrayed him. It was the day he realized she didn’t love him, and never had. The day he realized she tolerated him because he could give her what she wanted, and what she needed. He gave her cover to be who she wanted to be, the security to do what she wanted to and when it got too dangerous, she had him there as an excuse or a reason.
And now here was that look again, the look of pure desire. But he had one thing to be grateful for, he had never seen her give that look to another man.
*****
When the woman opened the door Sarah forgot everything she had planned to say. She had rehearsed all the way, driving through the country lanes, then sitting in the car outside the house waiting until it was exactly seven o’clock. And even as she walked up to the door the words and phrases went round her head. She knew exactly what she would say when Robert opened the door smiling down at her, a warm welcome. Instead this woman stood in the doorway, staring at her with piercing green eyes. Eventually Sarah had spoken,
‘Oh. I’m Sarah. I’m looking for Mr. D’Lyn’s house? I thought this was it?’
Sarah was grabbed by her arm and pulled inside.
‘Yea. Come on. You’re expected. Follow me, they’re in the games room.’
Sarah followed the untidy looking woman through a large open hallway. There was a huge staircase on her right, wide enough for three, even four people to walk up it abreast. Looking up, she saw the wooden banister continued all the way round into a gallery, so deep she couldn’t see how many doors
were upstairs. Lots of paintings and pictures were hung on the walls and a grand piano sat in the stairwell.
After nearly tripping over on a rug, so enraptured by all she could see, Sarah looked only at the woman’s back, looking her up and down; hair spiralling all over the place; jeans with marks all down the legs as if she had used them as a towel; a lumberjack shirt that appeared to be in need of a wash. Sarah wondered who on earth she was, and what she was doing in this house. The bare feet let her know, whoever she was, she was at home here. As she reached a doorway, Sarah heard the woman announce her.
‘Sarah’s here.’
The first thing Sarah saw was the big billiard table dominating the room, Robert leaning over it, as if to take his shot. She noticed his eyes weren’t on the ball but watching Stephanie. Stephanie? What was Stephanie doing here? Stephanie was sliding off a stool, beaming and slithering towards her, hands outstretched. Sarah tried to smile back, hiding her surprise and disappointment; it wasn’t Robert who was coming towards her.
‘Sarah, you look lovely.’ She grasped Sarah’s hands in hers and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Doesn’t she look lovely, Robert?’ Stephanie held her hand and twisted her around, showing her off. Sarah felt delighted to be the centre of attention. Until she heard the thwack of the ball. She turned her head to see Robert watch the ball as it disappeared down the pocket before he looked up at her and replied.
‘Lovely.’ With his back to them he walked to the wall replacing his cue in the stand. Turning round he looked first at Stephanie, and then looked at her. He smiled, and repeated himself. ‘Lovely’.
Just Like a Woman Page 17
