Subculture

by Sarah Veitch

  He guided her to his favourite cafe. It had high-backed chairs and a minimum of loud piped music. She ordered cappuccino. He ordered the same.

  ‘I know why you didn’t meet me,’ he said, as they waited for their beverages. ‘I saw the newspaper lying on your bed.’

  ‘I just...’ Her breasts moved visibly under the embroidered peasant blouse and he longed to use his tongue to tease out the nipples. ‘The journalist’s comments... both couple’s lives were destroyed.’

  Destroyed was too strong a word, implied giving up because of someone else’s wrong thinking, he mused thoughtfully. But the lives they’d known before were admittedly over, and that was a terrible thing.

  ‘Well, their lives were thrown into tumult,’ he said.

  Lisa stared at him. He gazed back at her, rejoicing in the closeness of her beloved features. ‘Michael, they lost their businesses and jobs.’

  ‘I know. I know.’ He had to concentrate on her words, not her expression. ‘But that doesn’t mean...’

  Lisa was talking faster and faster. He’d never seen her quite this nervous before, her eyes frightened and sad. ‘They had to give up their homes.’

  Michael started to reach for her hand, then thought better of it. It was vital that she realise that he was emotionally here for her, that he didn’t just want the physical act. He had to make her understand that their alliance was stronger than any tabloid’s private probing or public slur.

  ‘The newspaper was wrong...’ he started.

  ‘Of course it was,’ Lisa muttered. ‘Now everyone knows what they were up to.’

  ‘And what they were up to was honestly fulfilling their desires.’ He leaned forward as he spoke, trying to show the depth of his feeling in his eyes and voice tone. ‘They were just following their hearts.’

  ‘I know, but...’ She turned her hands up in a helpless half shrug. ‘Being pointed at in the street must be terrible.’

  ‘Granted.’ He could well imagine the hellish scenario. ‘But do you think the ones who are doing the pointing have nothing to hide?’

  Lisa pursed her lips. ‘They’re obviously not into spanking, or...’

  ‘No, but they’ll fantasize about golden showers or go in for wife-swapping or something. Most people don’t dream about the missionary position all their life.’ He watched as she made a snorting sarcastic sound.

  ‘Some people,’ she said, ‘don’t seem to be very sexual. When I was counselling, two of my clients said that they had no sexual fantasies at all.’

  ‘And that’s their prerogative and I respect it,’ Michael said softly. ‘Just as long as they respect what you and I do on the sexual front.’

  ‘Or what you and I did,’ Lisa muttered, twisting the silver identity bracelet around her wrist then absently fingering its engraving. ‘I don’t know if I can continue, knowing that I might have my private life destroyed.’

  For the hundredth time that day, he felt the surge of rage that was based on fear - fear that he would lose her.

  ‘If you end what we have because of some tabloid cruelty then you’re not the woman I believed you to be,’ he said.

  Her mouth quivered, then she cocked her head to one side. ‘Is that an insult, doc?’

  He took her hand. ‘No, I’m sure that you’ll come through for me. I meant it as a compliment.’

  ‘The kind of day I’ve had, I could use some compliments.’

  He felt a small surge of triumph when she didn’t pull her hand away.

  Their cappuccino arrived. It was only when the waitress gave Michael an odd look that he realised he hadn’t paid or thanked her.

  ‘Sorry, Mica, I was miles away,’ he said.

  ‘Friend of yours?’ Lisa asked as the woman accepted his coins and moved away from them.

  He nodded, not wanting to be sidetracked. ‘I come here for coffee whenever I’m in Valletta. It’s refreshingly quiet, as you can hear.’

  He watched as Lisa raised her cup to her lips then didn’t drink from it. She set it down and looked at him. Her voice was low and hard with tension when she spoke. ‘I just don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Come back with me to Vitality now. Forget the tabloids,’ he said quietly. ‘Tomorrow we’ll enjoy that date you broke, then we’ll go on as before.’

  ‘Continue doing things that half the world considers sordid?’ Lisa muttered, looking at him through eyelashes that were lushly thick and dark.

  ‘Continue doing things which give us the greatest pleasure and which harm no one else,’ he countered quickly, squeezing her small soft hand. That, for him, was the be all and end all - his sex life was nobody else’s business, and he knew he was in the right.

  ‘If half the journalists from The Daily Word surrounded Vitality, could you bear it?’ the herbalist prompted.

  Michael hesitated, knowing that his honesty was critically important now. ‘I... might sell the Clinic if they were ruining my business,’ he said slowly. ‘And with my livelihood gone I’d probably have to leave Malta. But I’d survive.’

  ‘You’d let them spoil all this?’ Lisa gave a sweep of her hand in the vague direction of the Clinic.

  ‘I’d let them disrupt this rather than give up the sexual life I love and cherish. Yes.’

  ‘Then I think you’re stronger than I am,’ Lisa said simply, pushing her cup away.

  ‘No, I’ve simply had longer to come to terms with my sexuality,’ Michael replied.

  He searched for the best words, remembering his fears as he reached his late teens. ‘It wasn’t easy in the beginning, you know - realising that I wanted to pull down the pants of each attractive woman that I met, wanted to cane her. I was terrified that I was some kind of psycho, that I’d lose control.’ He stared down at his frothy drink then stirred it round and round. ‘But gradually I realised that there were woman out there who loved to be bared and spanked, that I wasn’t alone in my sexual daydreams,’ He looked at her full on. ‘That really helped.’ He watched as she sucked in her breath.

  ‘The fantasy side - I don’t have a problem with that,’ she said shakily. ‘I mean, no one can tell what’s going on in my head cause we still don’t have the Thought Police. But the reality, how did you feel about your actions when... I mean when you were in bed with a girl you thought you could chastise?’

  Michael thought back. ‘Actually punishing a woman helped crystallise things for me. I found out that I wasn’t a monster. That I watched the way her hips moved as I chastised her, listened to her sounds of pain and pleasure, gauged how much of a whipping she could take.’

  ‘How big of you,’ Lisa muttered, and he sensed the return of her old spirit.

  ‘Their bare bums were grateful for any concessions I granted,’ he replied.

  ‘To the tabloids that would still make you a sadist,’ the herbalist shot back.

  ‘No, one of my main goals is to take each woman to the heights of pleasure. I punish firmly but am always fair.’ He stared as she licked her lips, looked at the embroidered linen cloth.

  ‘So you figure the orgasms are worth the risk of journalistic hassle?’ she asked, and her voice was hoarse with longing.

  Michael smiled wryly. ‘It’s about much more than orgasms. It’s about being true to yourself.’ He let his fingers tighten compellingly over hers. ‘Think about it, Lisa. What’s the alternative? To live a life of denial, a life of vanilla sex?’ He paused. ‘There are thousands of men and women out there who are doing that because they can’t find a partner to be dominant or submissive with.’ He stared deeply into her eyes. ‘We’ve been lucky enough to find each other. Don’t throw it all away.’

  Lisa nodded. ‘Part of me wants to continue, but the other half is just plain scared.’

  Behind the fear there was courage. He had to reach it. ‘Should Oscar Wilde have gone to prison for loving another man?’ he said.
<
br />   ‘No, of course not. That was obscene.’

  ‘And the world recognises that now. At least, most of it does,’ Michael continued. ‘Wilde just lived in especially homophobic times.’

  ‘And we live in CP-phobic times,’ Lisa added, finishing his thought chain.

  Michael nodded. ‘People who lead small lives will always try to scapegoat those who follow their dream.’

  Lisa reached for her bag, and he could tell that she was making her tone determinedly light. ‘I’m going to follow the cooking smells back to Vitality for dinner. I have to eat.’

  She’d obviously had enough CP talk for now. Michael stood up and smilingly jangled his car keys. ‘My car’s parked near the bus station. We could drive to a restaurant if you’d prefer.’

  ‘No, it’s been quite a day. I need familiarity.’

  Walking closer, he put a reassuring arm around her slender shoulders. ‘Then let’s get you home.’

  He drove back. She stared out of the window a lot. They walked to the dining room and ate the food which Carmen had saved for them. As soon as the coffee was cleared away, she stood up to go.

  ‘Night, Michael.’ She leaned over and kissed his brow.

  He gazed up at her, his features stern. ‘You still have to be punished for standing me up today, remember?’

  Saw her hesitate, a slight energy flickering over her clouded expression, then she turned away. ‘Forget it, I’m absolutely exhausted. I need an early night?’ she murmured, briefly making eye contact.

  ‘Five extra strokes of the paddle at a later date for suggesting postponement,’ he retorted lightly, then added ‘Sleep well.’

  Somewhat to his surprise, his groin didn’t pulse with disappointment as she left the dining room. He suspected that his body - like hers - needed to slow down for a few hours, to prepare itself for a punitive session. It took energy and commitment to spank or be spanked for a very long time.

  The next morning he was first down to breakfast. He had a feeling that Lisa would be second, that she’d want to talk to him on his own about the future. ‘Just croissants with butter for me, please,’ he told Jamilla when she came to take his order. The housekeeper nodded. He looked over at the door as a female voice said ‘Same here.’

  Lisa had entered the dining room. She walked swiftly to the table, her sandals clicking against the sanded wood floorboards. Her movements were easy under the pale yellow short sleeved blouse and matching pencil skirt. When she sat down he could see that her mouth was relaxed and that the tension in her cheekbones had ebbed away.

  ‘You look happy,’ he said, his eyes full of more audacious compliments.

  Jamilla turned to the serving hatch as Lisa murmured, ‘You don’t look so bad yourself.’

  ‘That’s because I’ve an obedient staff working for me,’ he replied softly, and she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips then looked away.

  He wanted her to look at him in bed and go on looking. But first they had to re-establish their relationship, had to have some less erotic fun. She had to have the freedom to be his business partner by day in order that she could more contrastingly be his sexual slave by night.

  ‘I’m free from 2pm today, and I see that you are too. Let me show you around Sliema,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Been there, done that. But I’m sure that you can show me some of its backstreets,’ Lisa replied.

  ‘I’ll show you more than its backstreets if you continue to be rude,’ he murmured, touching his thick leather belt with obvious inference.

  ‘Don’t tell me you want to play doctors and nurses?’ Lisa parried with a teasing grin.

  Their croissants arrived. The coffee arrived. So did the others. ‘I’ll fetch you at two,’ he said formally before leaving the busy dining room. Throughout the morning he thought of her and of how he would spank her wriggling soft rotundities. And his phallus throbbed inside his summer suit.

  At the appointed hour he knocked on her door. She was there. She had on tiny jade green shorts and the clingiest white T-shirt.

  ‘I figured this would do for sightseeing,’ she said tautly. ‘Reckon its okay?’ Her voice tone and jerky movements betrayed her uncertainty. He sought to reassure.

  ‘It’s perfect. You look great.’ These shorts would edge so nicely down as he unveiled her. He’d have to use all his self control to wait...

  But he did wait. He waited for three whole hours whilst they wandered around the sun-kissed shops, and drank earl grey tea at a pavement cafe. Then they leaned over the rail to look at the boats on the barely-ruffled warm blue sea.

  ‘What do you want to do now?’ he asked, after they’d walked along the promenade eating strawberry ice cream.

  ‘Don’t laugh, but I want to hail one of those horses with buggies,’ Lisa said.

  Grinning, he ruffled her glossy hair. ‘Thought you were a traveller rather than a tourist?’

  She ruffled his hair back, her eyes dancing mischief. ‘I’m a traveller who wants to have fun.’

  ‘Fun in a cart?’ His grimace was real. ‘It’s hardly a fitting image for a doctor.’

  ‘But you’re an increasingly alternative doctor. And laughter’s supposed to be the best medicine,’ Lisa replied.

  Ten minutes later a familiar clip clopping sound echoed down the street. Lisa turned. ‘There’s one. I’m going to hail it.’

  Michael put his hand on her arm. ‘The driver will start at a ridiculous price to find out how naive you are. Remember to drive a hard bargain,’ he warned with an indulgent smile.

  ‘Me, I’m useless at bargaining,’ Lisa said, moving towards the kerb as the horse slowed to an obedient halt.

  ‘Don’t get in until you’ve agreed a price,’ Michael explained.

  But Lisa already had her fingers around the side pole, and was pulling her way up into the cab. ‘Hurry up or we’ll drive off without you,’ she cried. As if to underline her words, the blinkered horse took a step forward, and the metal cart wheels turned noisily. Sighing, Michael pulled himself inside the vehicle and sat down.

  ‘Nice weather again,’ he commented to the driver. ‘How much to take us to Vitality?’ The cabbie named an inflated price.

  ‘Too much,’ Michael started. ‘We’ll pay...’

  ‘Oh for Gods sake stop being so mean,’ Lisa said laughingly to him. She leaned towards the driver’s white-shirted back. ‘That’s fine. Don’t listen to him. I’ve been meaning to do this for ages. Can you take us the most scenic route?’

  ‘Whatever you want, love,’ the man said. It was clear that he thought she didn’t have a clue about money. Michael let his fingers tighten on the rail.

  ‘You’ve shown me up,’ he said quietly into her ear. ‘You’ve been publicly rude, and lost me the respect of the driver. I’ll have to take it out on your impudent backside.’

  ‘Yeah? You and whose army?’ Lisa muttered, turning quickly away to gaze out of the cab. He stared at her with peripheral vision. The heat had rushed to her face, and she was shifting about on the leather. She wasn’t so cool...

  The horse clip-clopped on. The little carriage rattled and bounced, and other tourists stared at them. ‘It’s a bumpy ride,’ the herbalist giggled, her words coming through breath.

  ‘It’s just preparing your bum for the thrashing that awaits it in a few minutes,’ Michael murmured in her ear.

  ‘You’ll have to catch me first,’ Lisa countered throatily, looking at him with eyes that were dark and wide.

  ‘I’ll fashion a lassoo if necessary,’ he said. He looked at her tiny shorts, wishing that he had access this very minute, that he could pull down her underlying pants.

  At last the buggy drew up at Vitality. Lisa got out first and went up front to pay the driver. ‘Wait there,’ Michael told him. ‘I’ll bring you some water and food for the horse.’ He hurried to the Clinic’s own stable
s and got provisions from Bakar, then walked swiftly back to the chestnut animal. Lisa patted it before it ate and drank.

  ‘Thanks mate,’ the driver said, as the horse finished its repast. ‘He needed a break after that length of journey.’

  ‘You can do something for me, too,’ Michael said. He took hold of Lisa’s upper arm as he spoke, and held on tightly. In a moment he’d march her to his room.

  ‘How much do you want for the whip?’ he asked the man. He thrilled inside as Lisa swayed with desire against him. She caught her breath, lips parting slackly. When he looked at her, she looked quickly away.

  ‘This?’ the man queried, holding up the riding crop. It was a lightly thonged one that wouldn’t damage a thick skinned animal. Michael similarly wanted it for show rather than for effect. He much preferred to paddle or belt a bum rather than to whip it, enjoyed seeing thick bands of colour rather than thinner more hectic stripes.

  The man hesitated, then named a price. Michael halved it, then went into his wallet for the necessary cash. ‘A souvenir?’ the man said.

  ‘Oh I think I can put it to good use,’ Michael murmured, slapping the implement against Lisa’s clothed arse.

  He turned and began to walk towards the house, still holding her by the top of one suntanned arm. Her steps felt uneven next to his, as if she were walking on cobblestones.

  ‘Go to my room and I’ll teach you humility,’ he said softly, and she teetered forward and almost fell. ‘I hope those cheeks aren’t trying to delay their thrashing,’ he added matter-of-factly. ‘Looks like I’ll have to help them reach the house.’ So saying, he stopped and put one arm under her knees and another under her armpits and scooped her into his arms.

  ‘Bastard,’ she whispered, but didn’t sound as if she meant it. Only when they reached the grounds and she saw a face at an upper window did she beg to be set down.

  ‘If I set you down, will you go straight up to my bedroom and await your punishment?’ he queried.

  ‘Yes... anything. Someone’s looking,’ she replied.