She imagined riding on a wave, feeling the raw power of the ocean beneath her. She imagined sploshing into the sea, diving under the water to save herself from the wrath of a breaker …
Suddenly, something grabbed her knee.
Terrified, Willow lurched from under the water – sat bolt upright, gasping for air.
There was Nat, crouching next to the bath, staring back. He cocked his head to one side and said, “Oh, Miss Cassidy, what are we going to do with you?” He sounded like a nanny playfully scolding a child for getting a dot of paint on the carpet.
Willow began to shake. “How did you get in?”
“I had a key cut.”
“What?”
“I thought I might need it one day to surprise you.”
Well, you certainly did that.
He ran his hand across her damp hair. “I’m so sorry. I took things too far.”
Willow said nothing.
“It was the botty fun, wasn’t it?”
Botty fun? He thinks this is something light-hearted? Something small?
“It was too soon. I forgot how new you are to all this. I am so sorry, Miss Cassidy.”
Willow stared back.
“I really am sorry.” He picked up the jug that Willow kept beside the bath for rinsing her hair, and lowered it into the water. He gently poured warm, chamomile water down her back. It was hard not to feel soothed by it.
“I love you, Miss Cassidy.”
He dipped the jug into the water again, this time tipping it gently over her hair. She tilted her head back, enjoying the warm flow of the water.
“I love you. And I know you still love me.”
Willow remembered that she had loved him. She remembered how much she had wanted to be his girlfriend – how important that had been to her. She remembered the contract and how it had all been okay until …
“If I could take it back, I would,” he swore. “I’m not cross that you ran out without saying goodbye. I forgive you.”
Willow remembered leaving in her slip, slamming the door and running off into the world outside. She thought about how it would have crushed her if he had left her without a word.
“You can’t leave me, Miss Cassidy. I love you!”
“If you loved me, why did you …?”
“I thought you were enjoying it. You didn’t tell me to stop.”
Willow looked at the bathwater. “True,” she muttered.
Nat took her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
Willow saw a new side of him – a vulnerable side. There he was, on his hands and knees, begging her not to leave. He looked frightened. “We’ll screw up the contract. It’s nothing – nothing compared with losing you.”
A normal relationship would be wonderful – all the fun, all the attention, all the stimulation and laughter, but without wondering what kink he would ask of her next.
But how could he be happy with a vanilla relationship if he needed a submissive? She looked at him crouching by her bath – a big, rich, handsome man who, when all was said and done, seemed just a little boy needing to be loved.
“I can’t make you happy,” she said. “You need things that I don’t have to give.”
“I need you. You. That’s all I need.”
Willow was silent. She looked at him, baffled by the transformation.
Nat turned around so that his backside was facing the bath. “Hit me! Spank me!”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He began unbuttoning his jeans. “Fuck me with that shampoo bottle, if that’s what you want.”
Willow gasped. “Why would I want to? I would never put you through that.”
When Nat turned back to face her, there were tears running down his face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way. Please come home.”
“I am home.”
“Come home to my apartment. Move in with me.”
Bloody hell. He’s serious! The last few months replayed back in Willow’s mind; much of the time had been exhilarating. Nat had been right – she hadn’t asked him to stop. But she could now. He was offering her love without domination. Did he love her enough to abandon his former habits? He must do, if he’s asking me to move in with him.
“No more contract? No more S&M?”
“Just love.”
It sounded cheesy. However, when Willow looked at his earnest, chocolate eyes, she saw nothing but sincerity. She wondered what had happened to make him the way he was. She remembered him saying he didn’t have many happy childhood memories. Was it some sort of sickness? Was he cured now? Had she cured him?
“Willow?”
She couldn’t bring herself to nod, but she couldn’t shake her head either.
“If you can’t promise me forever, then promise me right now. Promise you’ll be my girlfriend for one more hour.”
Willow took a deep breath. “One more hour.”
Nat’s face lit up. She found it impossible not to be moved by how happy he looked. He leaned forward and kissed her, using his hand to gently guide her closer. He pulled away ever so slightly. “I love you, Miss Cassidy.” She could feel his breath on her lips. She breathed with him, enjoying the sensation of togetherness.
Nat grabbed the large fluffy towel from the rail. He held it up and she stepped into it, letting in encase her. Willow took hold of the towel.
Nat began to take off his clothes, one by one.
“Are you going to have a bath?” asked Willow, confused.
Nat continued removing clothes until his shirt and Calvin Klein’s were on the floor. Willow looked him up and down. She had seen him naked before but never standing in front of her like this. She had never seen his cock flaccid; he seemed much less intimidating with it hanging limp like Gonzo’s nose.
He whispered, “Now I am naked and you are not.”
Willow saw the scar from the time he’d fallen off a roundabout. She saw the dense scattering of moles on the right of his stomach. She saw the indentations left by chicken pox.
“Your turn to choose. Anything you like.”
Willow was overwhelmed by the question.
When she didn’t reply, Nat said, “I have an idea, if you will allow it?”
There was a humility about him that she’d never seen before. When he guided her out of the bathroom, she felt as if she was joining him on an even footing. He lay down on her bed and invited her to join him. His hopeful gaze was far removed from the orders she was used to. Still wrapped in the towel, Willow lay down beside him.
His kisses fell like snowflakes onto her face. He took the corner of the towel between his fingers and looked to her for permission. She nodded. Slowly, he moved the fabric to reveal one of her breasts. With a tranquil touch like running water, his tongue circled her nipple.
Willow’s breaths were deep and clear, like her thoughts. If she’d known Nat was open to a different kind of love, she would have requested it sooner. This was a love she could subscribe to.
He ran his tongue down the underside of her breast over the gentle bulge of her stomach. Was he going to …?
Nat slowly pulled away the remainder of the towel, baring her cleft.
She sensed his breath against her labia and suddenly felt insecure. Was she pretty down there?
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
The flick of his warm tongue between the lips of her labia sent a rush of pleasure up to her brain and it showered relaxation back. She knew that he had won her back. If she didn’t give this beautiful, tender man another chance, she would regret it for the rest of her life.
Evening of Thursday 13th August – inside a penthouse on the sea front
Romantic meals, lavish gifts of designer dresses and ample helpings of oral sex – Willow felt spoilt. But it wasn’t the trimmings or the generosity that made her happy; it was the opportunity just to be herself, and to see him be himself.
When they made love she was filled with a sense of being unable to tell where she stopp
ed and he began. She finally understood what was meant in Demi’s favourite song about Gods ripping people down the middle and the torn halves having sex to put themselves back together.
However, her romantic euphoria was offset by the loss of Demi. Would there ever be a way to tell Demi what had happened? Would she ever be able to explain that Nat had changed – no, not changed, woken up.
She waited, hoping that Demi would call text or email, but it didn’t happen. Perhaps then, she should make the first move.
Willow imagined trying to talk to Demi in person. She imagined all the shouting, all the drama … The situation was just too complicated to explain face-to-face. A letter however … Carefully chosen words could do it. Considered words might do justice to the funny trajectory that had eventually brought her happiness.
Once Willow decided what she was going to do, she wanted to do it right away – not a letter, an email. She looked for her phone. Where was it?
Eventually, she plugged in Nat’s landline and rang her own number. Nat didn’t like people ringing his flat, so reserved a handset to plug in as and when he needed to make an outgoing call. It took her ages to find the handset, which for some reason he kept under the sink.
Willow heard her mobile ring and left the landline off the hook. She was surprised to find her mobile in Nat’s sock drawer. She knew he had a penchant for tidying things away, but this was ridiculous. She supposed it had got caught up in some laundry.
Typing a significant email on her phone was tricky. She kept wanting to redraft so that it would be perfect. A computer would be better. She walked over to Nat’s desk and turned on his monitor. Damn, Windows asked for a password.
She was about to turn the monitor off when the door opened. She hadn’t heard the lift.
“And what are you doing with my computer?” asked Nat, storming into the room. “Are you trying to snoop?”
“No, I just wanted to write an email. At some point, can we pick up my computer?”
“That’s a favour you’re asking for.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I’m in the mood for doing you a favour after that stunt you just pulled?”
“I was just …”
“Bend over.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“We tore up the contract.”
“Spanking happens in relationships too.”
“You just want to spank me?”
“You’re boring me, Miss Cassidy. Go and stand in your spot by the window.”
Willow didn’t move.
Nat stared at her. She stared back, hands on hips.
Suddenly, Nat dropped to the floor. “I’m a terrible person.”
“What?”
“I promised myself I’d never inflict pain on you again.” She saw tears begin to well in his eyes. “I’m messed up. I don’t know why I’m like this! I can’t love you the way you deserve to be loved.”
“That’s not true. We’ve been fine these last couple of weeks.”
“Look at you. You’re so sweet. Unlike me – I’m damaged.”
Willow didn’t know what to say, so she sat down beside him and rubbed his back.
“Do you know why I was so cross when I saw you with my computer?”
“Why?”
Nat opened his mouth and then closed it again. “No, I can’t tell you. I’m too ashamed.”
“You can tell me anything.”
“All right, Miss Cassidy, but please don’t hate me.”
“I could never hate you.”
“Last night after you went to sleep, I used my computer to look at porn.”
Ouch. “Okay …”
“Dom-sub porn.”
Shit.
“I wish I was normal. I wish I could be the man you want me to be, but I enjoy this stuff. It’s who I am.”
Willow felt panic creep from her toes through to her fingertips. “What are you saying? You want to go back to the contract?”
“No, of course not. I still want you as my girlfriend. I just … It’s just …”
“What?”
“I need a bit more colour. I feel bad for even saying this, but I don’t think I can be happy without domination. Yet if I lost you, I don’t think I could breathe.”
“You came after me,” Willow reminded him, exasperated. “I left you and you came after me.”
“I feel trapped in a relationship that will never bring either of us true happiness – I can’t be myself with you.”
Willow felt as though she’d been hit by a high speed train.
“I know that without you, I’ll go back to being a hollow, emotionless shell. I’d never been in love before. You brought me to life. And now that I know what love is, I can see that I need the whole package. I want the romance and the S&M.”
How could they be incompatible, after everything they’d been through?”
“I know, I’m a horrible person.”
“You’re not a horrible person.”
“Then why do I crave a kinky sex life? Why can’t I be happy with the vanilla sex that’s enough for you?”
Willow took a deep breath. “It’s not that we can’t do anything colourful. Just not too far.”
Afternoon of Saturday 22 nd August – inside a penthouse on the sea front
Willow stared at the blood on the toilet roll and something inside her snapped. She needed to leave and she needed to leave now. She was shaking so hard she could barely work the flush.
Nat was at the gym. She had to take this opportunity. ‘Not too far’ had lasted for exactly nine days. Each day a shade darker, each day a little more pressure …
She cursed herself for having taken him back. She could have prevented this. Why had she believed that he was sorry? She could still feel him inside her rectum, like broken glass.
Where was she going to run to? If she went back to her house, he would find her. If she went anywhere in Falmouth, he would find her. How could she go to the shops or for a walk knowing he might be there?
Having seen how far he would go when horny, she was terrified of what he might do when angry.
She went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, looking for something that would sooth her throbbing colon. Her eyes homed in on a packet of Paracetamol.
She grabbed the packet and headed back to the living room, looking for her glass of water. Nat had tidied it away so she went to the kitchen and poured another.
She looked out over the bay, wishing she could jump into a ship and sail off. But she knew she wouldn’t last a day without turning back. That bungee cord from Nat’s heart to hers was stronger than ever – stretch the elastic too far and she’d ping back to him, with force. He called it love but it felt more like an addiction.
There was nowhere to go. Nowhere that he wouldn’t find her. No place from which she could not return.
Then she realised that there was a place she couldn’t return from – a way to make sure that she never went back, never endured that shame again.
Experiencing an unexpected calm, she began popping Paracetamol from the packet, one by one and washing them down with water. Pop. At first she felt a little better. Pop. Pop. Pop. However, after the fifth, she began to tremble, recognising the full implications of her ‘solution’. Still, she carried on automatically.
Unexpectedly, she heard the lift. Why did he always seem to come home earlier than he said he would? She tried to stash the packet under the sofa but the door burst open. She attempted to cover the packet with a fold of her Armani dress.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
Nat stormed over and roughly grabbed her. He found the pills immediately. “Why are you hiding these?” Then his expression turned to raw fury. “Have you taken these? All of these?”
Willow said nothing.
“What about the other tray?”
“What other tray?”
“The packets always have two trays in them. Now where is
the other tray?”
“I don’t know!”
Nat yanked her by the arms and dragged her into the bathroom. His grip dug into her stomach. He placed her on her knees in front of the toilet then aggressively squeezed, as if performing the Heimlich manoeuvre on her stomach.
When she wasn’t immediately sick, he yelled, “Put your fingers down your throat.”
Willow did nothing, paralysed by the horror of what was happening.
“Do it, or I will.”
This time, she did what she was told, suffering with every gush of stomach fluid that poured from her guts. She retched until there was nothing left to come up. Her stomach felt scrambled.
Nat guided her into the living room, much more gently than he had dragged her in there. He tried to get her to the sofa but she dropped onto the floor. He fetched her a fresh glass of water. Tenderly, he helped her drink a few sips. He stroked her hair and Willow felt loved – loved badly, but loved.
She looked up hopefully but saw only disappointment in his eyes. He shook his head. “This is how much you care about me, after everything.”
“Hospital,” rasped Willow.
“I’m not taking you to the hospital. You said you only took one tray.”
“I did.”
“In that case, you only took eight pills, which you’ve vomited up. You didn’t even get the dose right.”
“Please …”
“I can’t believe that you hate me this much. That you would break my heart, ruin my life …”
“I want to go home.”
Nat sprang up. “This is your home, you ungrateful bitch. Who bought you that camera? Who took you in when your sister turned on you? Hell, who got a spot for your weird little dresses at that exhibition?”
“You did that?” croaked Willow. Her course – the one thing that she had in her life that he hadn’t destroyed – was in his control too.
He placed an arm around her. She winced. “I’m going to throw away all the tablets and hide the kitchen knives. I will protect you, Miss Cassidy. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
Evening of Saturday 22 nd August – inside a penthouse on the sea front
Nat handed Willow a plate of crab linguine. It felt wrong to eat fancy food off a tray on the sofa, but he didn’t seem interested in setting the table. She looked down at the plate of food – colourful and beautifully cooked, yet she didn’t feel like eating a mouthful.
Two Shades of the Lilac Sunset Page 13
