by Amy Cross
"He killed the woman I love," I say. "I will find a way to bring him down".
"He has powerful allies," Gregor replies. "It's rumored that he's part of a game that spreads throughout the city. It's for that reason, and that reason alone, that I have always steered well clear of any connection with Blake and his associates. Believe me, though... If Harrison Blake were to die, there would certainly be wild celebrations all across the underworld of this dark city".
I pause for a moment. No-one is supposed to know about the game, apart from the three who play, and I must be careful to ensure that I'm not tricked into providing any revelations. I certainly wouldn't put it past the authorities to put a man in my cell who knows a little about my case, and who has been told to see if he can gain some additional information about my recent activities. Were I genuinely going to die tomorrow morning, I would perhaps be willing to share, but right now I'm determined to find some way out of this place.
"There's no window," he says suddenly. "I know what you're doing, Mr. Pope. For some reason, they like to put condemned men in with me for their last night, and they all do the same thing. They try to find a way out, but there's no escape. Once you're condemned and brought to Sodmarsh, you have no hope, and you won't get away, even if you run your fingers to their stumps as you try to wear a hole in the walls. That's why I always give but one piece of advice. Try to make your peace with God. There's no point railing against Harrison Blake or Mr. White or whatever he calls himself these days -"
"How do you know about Harrison Blake?" I ask, getting tired of his little hints.
"I'm a man of the city," he replies. "I make it my business to know about everything. I also know, for example, that you sought help from Cather May many years ago. I have connections, you see, and eventually everything reaches me. The game is a secret, but whispers are exchanged between those who know what's really happening".
"If you're so well-connected," I reply, "why the hell are you holed up in this nest of rats?"
"All men fall eventually," he says. "I'm not here permanently, though. I'm one of the few lucky souls who are just passing through Sodmarsh on the way to a full recovery from my life of crime. Besides, I'm happy here. At least I'm safe". He laughs for a moment, but the laugh quickly becomes a hawking, hacking cough. "I've always kept well clear of the game, but I've heard rumblings, and once or twice I've come into contact with the poor bastards who've been tricked into taking part. I've even seen the game itself".
"Seen it?" I ask. "What do you mean? You've seen the rituals?"
"Don't be naive," he replies. "I've seen the game. I've seen it. The thing that controls everything. The thing that lives at the heart of this whole disgusting mess. I've looked it in the eye, and believe me, I turned and ran. It was the only thing that's ever scared me in my life, and this prison is probably the only place where I'm safe from its wrath. When the game is angry, Mr. Pope, it lashes out". He pauses for a moment, and I hear the sound of him scrabbling about in the dirt. "Trust me," he continues eventually, his voice much closer in the darkness, "if you've made the game angry, you're better off dead".
Elly
Today
"That's not what I'm saying," Mark says, as we sit drinking cocktails over on the sofas. "I'm saying that people have an ability to compartmentalize their identity. They can rationalize almost any decision, and they can put their regrets and doubts into a little box and hide them away. So if you offer them enough money, they'll do pretty much anything. If you want an extreme example of the way people can do things like that, just look back at human history".
"But there's a limit," Jess replies eagerly, sipping from her drink. "Everyone has a limit. It's different for different people, but everyone has a limit somewhere. Otherwise, the world would be in chaos. People'd just be running around, doing whatever they wanted. There'd be no rules, no nothing".
"Those limits are just imagined conveniences," Mark says. "They're movable. They're flexible. They're just tools, used by people so they can convince themselves that they're good, upstanding citizens. It's just part of the game".
There's that word again. Mark and Jess have been referring to different 'games' all evening, and while I know Jess has no idea about the game, Mark certainly knows what he's doing every time he uses the word. In fact, it's almost as if he's using it against me, as a way of showing me that he's enjoying talking to Jess. They're getting on very well, perhaps even too well. I'm not the jealous type, but I'm starting to wonder if maybe Mark's going to start thinking about bringing Jess into the real game at some point. She seems so confident and relaxed, it's almost as if she's outshining me.
"What about you?" Jess asks suddenly, reaching over and putting a hand on my knee. "Come on, Elly, do you think people are as easily controlled as your boyfriend says?" Smiling, she leans a little closer, and her ample cleavage looks like it's straining to be constrained by her low-cut dress. "And what about the difference between men and women? Maybe this is a man thing. Men can move their imaginary lines, while women are more determined to stick to their principles?"
"So you're saying that men are inherently less moral?" Mark asks.
"Maybe," Jess says, keeping her eyes fixed on me.
"That's a convenient argument," Mark continues. "You're effectively wiping off the moral compass of half the world's population, an entire gender, just because it suits your argument".
"So if I offered you a million pounds to do something immoral," Jess says, lurching over to join me on the larger of the leather sofas, before turning back to look over at Mark, "would you turn it down?"
"I already have a million pounds," he says with a smile.
"But if you didn't".
"How do you think I became a billionaire?" he replies. "By being a good little boy and going to church every Sunday?"
"Huh," Jess says. "Good point".
"There are more male billionaires than female," Mark continues, "by a wide, wide margin. Is that because men are smarter than women? Of course not. Maybe you're right. Maybe men are just more willing to move their invisible line, and women refuse to budge. It's an interesting theory. Someone should put it to the test some time". He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bundle of cash, held together with a clip. "I'm afraid I don't carry a million pounds around with me, but this is ten thousand". He stares at the money for a moment, as if its very appearance has in some way startled him. "So what do you think? Could this little bundle of paper be used to make someone push back, or even forget entirely, their moral line?"
Jess looks at me, and I can see the look of eagerness in her eyes. Jess is the kind of person who has a very expressive face; I can always tell when she's bored or when, as seems to be the case right now, she's switched on and interested. If I didn't know better, I'd be worried that there's a hint of growing attraction between Jess and Mark.
Carefully, Mark sets the bundle of money down on the coffee table.
We all sit in silence for a moment. It's as if the money is eating our thoughts.
"So there's that old test," Jess says eventually, sounding nervous. "Imagine there's a briefcase with a million quid in it, and you can have that briefcase, but if you take it, a random guy in China will drop dead". She pauses. "Would you take the briefcase, knowing that the guy in China, whose name you'll never even know, will die as a result?"
"Yes," Mark says, without missing a beat.
"No," I say firmly.
Jess says nothing. She looks over at Mark, and then at me.
"Well?" Mark asks.
"I don't know," she says, looking down at the cash on the table.
"What about ten thousand pounds?" Mark asks.
"No," Jess says quickly. "Obviously I wouldn't take it then".
"So the Chinese guy's life might be worth a million, but not ten thousand?" Mark asks.
"It's not like that," Jess says, sounding uncertain.
"So what would you do for ten thousand pounds?" Mark continues. He looks over at me, and I c
an see that he's already got an idea all worked out. It's almost as if he's had this whole evening planned out from the start.
"I don't know," Jess says, still staring at the money.
"Would you... kill a man?"
"No," she says.
"Would you stand back and let a man die without trying to help?"
She shakes her head.
"Would you paralyze someone?"
"No".
"Would you cut off someone's hand?"
"No".
"Would you sleep with someone?"
"No".
"Would you strip naked in front of a stranger?"
She pauses. "Maybe".
"I think we've just found your moral line," Mark replies with a smile. "But 'maybe' isn't an answer. Yes or no?"
"Yes," she says after a moment.
"Okay," Mark says.
There's an awkward pause. Jess continues to stare at the money, and then she looks over at Mark.
"Well?" Mark continues.
"Well what?" Jess asks. She looks at me, then back at Mark. "What... seriously?" she asks with a nervous laugh.
"You said you'd do it," he replies.
"Yeah, but it was a joke," she says. "Well, not a joke, but, like, hypothetical".
"So you'd say you'd do it," Mark continues, "but when it comes down to it, you wouldn't. You're all talk and no action".
"No, I would," she says, "I just..."
"I'm a stranger," Mark reminds her. "More or less, anyway. You barely know me".
"I'm not a stranger," I say. There's a part of me that wants to shut this whole conversation down right now and get the night finished. After all, it's close to midnight, and I'm getting tired of Mark's games. At the same time, I don't want to make either of them think that I'm scared, or that somehow I'm not strong enough to take part in their conversation. They've got their own game going here, and I can't let them think I'm not a part of it.
"So you'll give me ten grand," Jess says, staring at the money, "if I strip?"
"Yes," Mark says. "I mean, you said it yourself. You'd be willing to do it for the money. I'm not putting the words into your mouth. That's exactly what you said a few minutes ago".
"Yeah, but I thought it was just in theory," she continues.
"I guess you've proved your point, then," Mark says, reaching over to take the money back. "You have a -"
"Wait," Jess says, pushing his hand away from the money at the last moment. "Would I actually, like, seriously, get the money? That money, right now, all of it?"
"Yes," Mark says.
"You're not bullshitting me, are you?" she asks, before turning to me. "Is he bullshitting me?"
I shake my head.
She looks back across the room. "Are there cameras in here?"
"None," Mark says. "Believe me, the last thing I'd ever want in my home is a camera".
"Huh," Jess says, blushing slightly. "Well... Fuck it. Ten grand. Yeah, I'd strip". There's another awkward silence. "How far?" She waits for Mark to answer. "Like, all the way?"
Mark nods.
"Are you okay with this?" she asks, looking over at me.
"Why wouldn't I be okay with it?" I reply.
"It's a bit weird," she says. "Are you sure it's okay, Elly?"
"I'm sure," I reply. What else can I say? I can't be the one who stops it. Besides, I know Jess; I don't think she'll go through with it. Not all the way. Sure, she sleeps around back in Bristol, but she's not going to submit to Mark's game like this. She won't be some dancing, stripping doll, not even for ten thousand pounds.
"Fuck," she mutters, staring at the money for a moment before getting to her feet. "Fine," she says eventually, shrugging. She's clearly nervous, but as she stands by the coffee table, it's clear that she's actually willing to do this. "So," she says after a moment, "have you got any, like, stripper music or anything?"
"Sorry," Mark replies. "No music".
"Huh," Jess says. There's another pause. "Well," she continues, reaching down and grabbing the bottom of the black dress she's been wearing all evening, "I guess..." Slowly, she starts pulling the dress up, exposing her bare legs and eventually a white pair of briefs. In the otherwise silent room, the fabric of the dress makes a slight rubbing sound as it slips up over her hips. Eventually, she pulls the dress over her head, revealing a white bra. She slips her arms out of the dress, which she sets neatly on the sofa.
There's a pause.
"Okay," she says nervously, slipping out of her sandals. After taking a deep breath, she reaches back and starts unhooking her bra.
"You won't go through with it," I say suddenly.
Mark smiles.
Without saying anything, Jess lets her bra straps fall down, but she keeps one arm over her chest for a moment, pressing the front of the bra to her breasts. She looks at me for a moment, then back down at the money, and finally she pulls the bra away to reveal her large, firm breasts. Still blushing, she neatly folds her bra and places it next to her dress.
"Huh," she says, laughing nervously. She puts her hands on the waistband of her briefs, ready to pull them down.
"You won't do it," I say. My heart is pounding, but I'm convinced that there's no way she's going to go all the way with this striptease.
"Before I do this," she says nervously, glancing at each of us, "I just want to say that if I'd known I'd be stripping, I'd have shaved my legs".
I stare at her. She's starting to get second thoughts. There's no way she'll -
Suddenly she pulls the briefs down and slips them off, exposing her shaved crotch. There's a small tattoo of a butterfly just to one side, which I'd never seen before. Then again, I've never seen Jess completely naked before.
"There," she says, grinning with nervous embarrassment. She does a full turn, giving us a quick view of her buttocks before turning back to face us. "Voila! One naked Jess!" She stands in silence for a moment, and it's kind of cute to see that she's blushing. "Fuck," she says after a moment. "This feels pretty weird".
"Very impressive," Mark says.
"I told you I'd do it," she says, putting her hands over her crotch. She pauses for a moment, and then she sits back next to me on the sofa, immediately crossing her legs while putting her hands in her lap in such a way as to partially cover her breasts with her arms. "So," she says, smiling, "I bet you didn't think I'd go through with it, did you?"
"No," I say, feeling strangely tense and nervous.
"Congratulations," Mark says. "You're ten thousand pounds better off".
"Seriously?" Jess replies. "Fuck". She turns to me. "Well, this has certainly been an evening to remember, right? I mean -"
Suddenly we both look over at Mark as we see that he's reaching into his pocket again. Moments later, he takes out another bundle of cash, and without saying a word he leans across the coffee table and puts this bundle next to the first.
Jess looks at me nervously.
"Another ten thousand," Mark says.
"Huh," Jess replies.
"What else are you willing to do?" Mark asks.
"I'm not sure..." she says cautiously.
"Would you kiss Elly?"
Jess immediately starts laughing, but it's a tense, nervous laugh.
"So you wouldn't?"
"That's a crazy idea," she replies. "She's my best friend!"
"So you wouldn't kiss her for another ten thousand pounds?"
"I don't know!" Jess says. "I've never even thought about it!" She stares at the money. "I mean, I'm not..." She looks back over at me. "I'm not gay. You know that, right? I'm, like, the least gay person in the world. Apart from that time I kissed Sheila Struthers at Dave's party".
"You did more than kiss her," I say.
"It was a party!" she replies, as if that explains everything. There's an awkward pause, and she bites her bottom lip as she looks at my mouth. "I just did it for a bit of fun," she continues after a moment, her voice suddenly seeming softer and more thoughtful. "Not everything has to be some
big, meaningful event. Sometimes you kiss someone because you love them, and sometimes you kiss them because it's just a bit of a laugh. Haven't you ever kissed someone for a laugh?"
"Not really," I say, feeling as if I can't back down now. I know Mark's watching us, and I know this whole set-up is probably some kind of test. Hell, it might even be part of the game.
As Jess shifts her position on the sofa and moves closer to me, her bare ass squeaks against the leather. She's definitely within kissing distance right now, and although I'm feeling uncomfortable, I keep telling myself over and over that I'm going to do this. There's no way I'm going to back down, because then Mark would start to think that Jess is more daring than me. I'm already worried that he finds her attractive, and the last thing I want to do is push him further into her arms.
Slowly, Jess leans closer and brushes her lips against mine. I don't pull away, and she tilts her head a little and comes in for another moment of skin on skin, except this time she lingers. Our mouths are partly open, and finally we kiss properly. We don't use tongues, not at first; we just kiss, tenderly and delicately, as if neither of us is really sure about the wisdom of what we're doing. Jess is my best friend, and I've never thought of her life this before. As the kiss continues, however, I realize that she seems to be getting into it, and I force myself to remember that I need to impress Mark.
After a moment, I reach around and place a hand on Jess's bare waist, before moving the hand down a little until I'm touching her hip. The kiss is becoming more passionate and more intense, as if Jess has lost all her inhibitions and is really going for it, and a few seconds later I feel her tongue against mine. To be honest, it's not the most awful experience in the world, especially when I manage, just for a few seconds at a time, to forget who I'm kissing. I slowly move my hand up the side of her body, past her waist and onto her torso, and finally I feel the beginning of the curve of her breast.
