Masked Definitions

by A. E. Murphy

  When we finish, it’s together, our bodies trembling and satiated.

  But for how long?

  *****

  The drive home is quiet. Neither of us seems to be able to talk about or face what it is that we’re doing. I guess that’s understandable. The longer we avoid it, the longer it is until we feel the full brunt of the guilt that will no doubt consume us.

  “Do you want to say anything?” Elijah asks cautiously. I was wondering when he was going to finally ask the question that has unsettled him for the duration of the drive.

  “I’m really craving doughnuts,” I mumble and Elijah laughs. It’s deep and loud and it makes me tingle as though I hadn’t just fucked him minutes ago.

  “Let’s go and get doughnuts then.” After a few moments of silence, he adds, “And that was the last time.” This time I throw my head back and laugh.

  The second we walk into his home, he takes me on the couch and then on the stairs. I guess neither of us were satisfied for very long.

  “I want to go to the cinema,” Max announces, startling me as I help Mildred prepare lunch. “Avengers is out.”

  “Sure.” I want to see it too. “Tomorrow?”

  “Now.”

  I check my watch and shrug. “Fine, but you’ve got to promise me you’ll go and see your therapist tomorrow.”

  “No.”

  “Max…”

  “I don’t need to. I’m feeling fine. I’ve got you. I don’t need him,” he states almost petulantly.

  “Max…” My tone is a warning.

  “Fuck off, Liv. I don’t want to see him. I don’t need to.”

  I slam the wooden spoon down onto the counter. “Don’t ever talk to me like that again. Are we clear?”

  He blinks, shocked at my outburst. “Well then don’t piss me off.”

  “Well then go to the fucking therapist.”

  “I said no!”

  I stare at him, my anger soaring with each passing second. “Go and see Avengers by yourself then.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope.”

  “Stop being a bitch.” He rounds the counter to face me. “What… are you due on or something?”

  My mouth falls open. “Did you ever think that maybe you’re the one who is actually pissing me off?”

  “I always talk to you like this.”

  My hands fly in the air. “EXACTLY!”

  “You’ve never moaned before… is this about what Elijah said to me?” His eyes narrow.

  “Oh my god… you’re a child. It’s in one ear and out the other with you.” I hiss, pointing the wooden spoon at him. “Why is it always somebody else’s fault?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Take responsibility and maybe think about what you say before you say it.”

  “I’m not arguing about this anymore,” he spits, his fists clenching by his sides.

  I drop the spoon back onto the counter and quickly tighten my ponytail. “The way you speak to me is disgusting.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since always.”

  “Since Elijah said…”

  I take a step towards him, my finger extended and inches from his nose. “Stop bringing Elijah into this. It has nothing to do with him. Maybe I actually care about the way you talk to me.”

  “And how exactly do I talk to you?” He hisses, pushing my hand out of his face.

  “Always calling me names, always swearing. You don’t deserve me, the shit I put up with.” I stand my ground despite the anger in his eyes, anger I’ve seen before. “I’m so sick and tired of looking after your lazy arse. You’re a child. You act like a child; you speak like a child and I don’t want to be with a fucking child.”

  “Leave me then,” he whispers, gripping my shoulders tightly with both hands. “See what happens.”

  And then he shoves me away from him so hard I have to catch myself on the counter. I watch as he storms from the kitchen, knocking a plate full of sandwiches from the side. I wince when the plate smashes on the ground and the sandwiches scatter everywhere.

  “Oh my,” Mildred whispers, her fingers touching her lips as she gazes at the doorway with wide eyes.

  I forgot we had an audience. “I’m sorry, Mildred.”

  “Don’t be… honey… he holds so much anger.”

  “I know.” I whisper, pulling free of her gentle, comforting hand.

  “Does he frighten you?”

  My eyes burn. “He frightens everybody.” I leave the kitchen, ignoring the mess. I should clean it but I don’t want to cry in front of her.

  Racing to my room, checking for Max first, I grab my shoes, slip them on and leave the house before anyone can stop me.

  Then I run.

  I run until it burns. I run until my chest constricts painfully. I run and run until physically I can’t anymore and I almost vomit. Then I go to work five hours early, because I need to put on my mask. I need to be Enna. I need to be brave and strong and forget about weak, pathetic Liv.

  My phone rings over and over again; it’s Max and the landline of the Lord’s house. No more than twenty minutes later, when I finally arrive at work, Elijah calls and leaves a voicemail. I don’t listen to it as I’m too busy getting ready to be Enna.

  Then he texts me.

  Elijah: I don’t know what the fuck happened in my kitchen, but if I ever come home to Mildred in such a state again, you can both leave.

  Max: Well done, now you’ve gone and pissed off Elijah.

  I scream with anger and throw my phone against the wall. The plastic brick only bounces off onto the ground and skids a foot under the desk.

  How is this suddenly my fault?

  “You’re on in five,” comes Rick’s voice far too quickly.

  I’m hardly even ready. I stow away my emotions for a later date and swiftly prepare Enna’s body for her first client of the evening. Fortunately he’s an easy one. He never lasts longer than a few minutes and I pray that today won’t be much different.

  Leaving my phone under the desk, I head to my first client of the evening and, as expected, he doesn’t last very long at all. There is no second client for me for another hour and a half so I sit in my room in silence. Part of me wants to wander down to the club area to get a taste of what it’s like. I’ve never been down there before. I’ve never felt the urge to go down there. Rick has never tried to put me on the stage for multiple clients.

  It’s mostly because when I first sought him out I told him that it wasn’t going to happen. Now though… now I want that thrill… the thrill of dancing in front of all of those men, in the dark, under a spotlight so hot that my body would glisten with sweat. The thought makes me tingle deep inside.

  I’m becoming a monster.

  I can’t deny the fact that I like it.

  I seek out Rick. Shade doesn’t know where he is, so I head to his office where he rarely resides. I’m not even certain why he has an office.

  If I had the courage to collect my phone and face the messages that must be awaiting me, I’d be able to call him.

  As expected, Rick’s office is empty, so with a heavy sigh I return to my room and wash my body under a warm spray of water. Then I don a white set of lingerie and twiddle my thumbs until my next client arrives.

  My phone rings endlessly from its place under the desk. I grip it tightly in one hand after finding the courage to lift it from the ground. I’m surprised to see twenty-six missed calls from Elijah. There are no texts but multiple voicemails.

  Instead of listening to them, I answer.

  “If you’re calling me to have a go about what happened, don’t bother. I apologise and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” His silence catches me off guard. I half expected him to begin yelling the second I finished. “I can keep Max in check.” I add, to reassure him. Maybe he is truly upset over Mildred being upset? I should have checked on her before I left.

  “Does he hit you?” Comes his gruff voice through the
speaker.

  My lips part. “W… what?”

  “Does Max hit you?”

  I clear my throat to dislodge the lump there that is making it impossible for me to string together a sentence. “Max?”

  “I checked the kitchen surveillance.”

  My legs uncross and cross in the opposite direction, forcing my chair to squeak.

  “An answer would be nice, Olivia, though your silence is giving me all the answer I need.”

  “Answer?”

  He growls with annoyance. “Does that son of a bitch put his hands on you?”

  “Max is complicated.”

  “Fuck…” He grits and I hear his breath hit the receiver. “He hits you.”

  “It’s not like that.” He’ll never understand. “He hasn’t… not for a long time.”

  “Define ‘long time’.”

  “Elijah.” I roll my eyes heavenward. “I can deal with Max. You don’t have to concern yourself with our marriage.”

  “Which begs the question, why the fuck are you with him if he’s hitting you?”

  “I have it handled.”

  “That’s why you’re so fucking weak-willed around him, isn’t it? You’re scared of him.”

  Again, I’m left silent because I don’t know how to argue with him. Part of me wants to come to Max’s defence but I can’t. “We’ll talk later, Elijah. I have to go.”

  “Do you need help?”

  “Elijah…”

  “Just say the word. I can help you.” I hear his footfalls on the wooden floor and I know he’s in his office. “You can trust me.”

  “I have to go.”

  “Where are you?”

  I glance at the clock on the wall. “I’m at work. My next client arrives in five minutes.”

  “Right.” His tone is bitter, though I can’t think why. “Cancel it. We need to talk.”

  Eye roll. “I can’t just cancel.”

  “I’ll call Rick and cancel for you.”

  “Why on earth would you do that?”

  He growls again, sounding almost feral. “We need to talk.”

  “Why?”

  “You need help. Your life is a fucking mess right now.”

  I startled laugh escapes me. “I need help?”

  “I want to help you.”

  “What does this have to do with me working?” I check the clock again and curse. “I have to go. I’m hanging up now.”

  “Don’t you dare hang up on…” The line dies when I press the button to disconnect. I throw my phone onto the desk this time and exit my room.

  I hope my client doesn’t mind being kept waiting. I’m not even sure who it is that I have. I really should have called Rick. I have a feeling that tonight will be the worst night I’ve had since starting.

  “You are stunning,” comes an unfamiliar male voice when I claim the pole and begin my tease. Though my heart isn’t in it, the show is still good, I hope.

  I twist my body to face the man, scanning him up and down as he sits in the throne, his body casual and relaxed. The air he emits reminds me so much of Elijah.

  “Rick was right.” He stands and moves towards me, stepping into the white spotlight that spills around the pole in a circle, casting a tiny shadow up the left wall. “I’d enjoy you very much.”

  I feel his fingers take a lock of my hair and tease it around the tip of his pinkie before releasing it.

  My instincts tell me to just remain silent. Something tells me that speaking won’t get this guy off. He wants a toy, a play thing, something he can control without argument. A dangerous vibe seeps from him and the glittering watch that hangs loosely past the cuff of his designer suit tells me he’s entitled.

  I didn’t get this vibe from Elijah, not at all.

  I swallow nervously.

  “Come,” he says and beckons me to the throne. We’re shrouded in darkness but not so much that he can’t see me; just enough to make it so that any flaws my body may have are now invisible to the naked eye. “Bend over,” he orders, his voice holding no room for argument as he reclaims the throne. “Now.”

  I turn slowly, feeling uneasy. I’ve never felt uneasy before. I don’t like it.

  “I said bend over,” he demands, his voice booming.

  My body begins to bow forward until my palms rest flat on a footstool. Thick hair falls around my face like heavy curtains.

  “Good.” He sits forward, his face only inches from my satin covered mound. I grow more uneasy. “Pull your knickers down.”

  I hesitate when I hear his belt rattle and undo.

  “Pull them down, slut.”

  No, this doesn’t feel right. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I begin to stand.

  “You refuse me?”

  I turn to face him, hoping that he doesn’t cause problems for me. “I don’t feel comfortable.”

  His blue eyes flash dangerously. “You’re a paid whore. I don’t care if you feel uncomfortable. I care if I feel comfortable.”

  “I’m not a whore and if I don’t feel comfortable then I don’t have to do this,” I rebuke, stepping away from him.

  “I’ve paid for you already. Now stop being moronic and bend over and show me your fucking pussy.”

  My arms fold over my body defensively and I slowly begin to back towards the door. “I’m sorry.”

  “This is ridiculous,” he barks, taking three angry strides towards me, forcing me to retreat to the door.

  I turn and grab the handle, hoping Shade has seen my retreat and is coming for me already. A solid chest hits my back and I cry out when my hands are ripped away from the door.

  “Sha…” A hand slaps over my mouth. I scream through it and thrash as his arm pushes around my front. My scream becomes louder, though it sounds like nothing more than a muffled wail when his trousers drop to his ankles.

  “Fucking telling me no,” he hisses in my ear. “Stupid whore.” I claw at his arm but he quickly pins my hands to my chest. Panic swarms me when he pushes his boxers to his knees. “Quiet, slut. I’m getting my money’s worth.”

  “Enna!” I feel the door slam against the side of my face as it’s forcefully pushed open. Stars burst in my right eye and pain burns all around it. Shade can’t shift us both out of the way. “ENNA!”

  I hear another voice accompany his, a voice that is familiar to me. It’s Elijah’s. “Get away from the door, Liv.”

  “I swear on all that is holy, when I get this door open, Holmes, I’m putting a bullet between your eyes.” That’s Rick’s voice.

  I’m safe. I just need to move us. If I move us, we’re safe.

  Biting hard on the side of his palm, until he cries out and pulls his hand away, I throw my head back and feel a burst of pain when it connects with his jaw. My fight instincts kick in. My feet leave the ground as his arm holds me tight and I press them both against the door and push backwards. He can’t keep his footing due to his boxers constricting his knees and we both crash to the floor.

  I feel what can only be described as a snap and then a sharp pain comes with it, burning and aching through my arm. I’ve never felt pain like it. I cry out with it and then cry louder when strong hands grip me under my arms and pull me to my feet. Elijah backs me into the corner, holding my body tight to his as Rick points the barrel of a gun directly between the man’s eyes.

  “It’s okay,” Elijah whispers. “You’re safe.”

  “My arm,” I whimper, holding it across my chest, too frightened to move it.

  “Come on.”

  “Shade,” Rick says, keeping his gun on the guy, “show this twat what happens when my girls are hurt.”

  Shade, after glancing at me and nodding at Elijah, cracks his knuckles, adjusts his sunglasses and states, “With fucking pleasure.”

  Rick tucks the gun away and spits on the man who is half-dressed, lying on the ground. “Let’s go.”

  My legs buckle, my strength fading as my vision tunnel
s. The pain is just too much and the shock is making my head spin and my stomach roil. Elijah picks me up with ease, careful of the arm I’m cradling, and carries me gently out of the room. Just before the door closes, I hear the man scream the most tortured scream I’ve ever heard. It chills me to the bone. Despite what he did, I don’t feel pleasure knowing he’s hurting. I’m just not that kind of person.

  “Don’t touch it!” I shriek when Elijah goes to press my arm with his fingers.

  He raises his hands defensively, a frown marring his handsome features. I want to smooth it away with my thumb. My good thumb. How is it that even when I’m in the throes of pain I’m still eager to touch him in some way?

  “I’ll arrange transport for you to the hospital…” Rick states, pacing backwards and forwards as he types away on his phone. Sweat beads on his balding head. He looks stressed. I feel relatively calm.

  “I’ll take her.”

  “Not sure that’s a good idea.”

  Elijah straightens. “Not sure you have a choice.”

  “Can I please get a gown or something?” I rip the mask off with my good hand and motion to my undressed state.

  “Sorry,” both of the men say and spring to action, almost running into each other.

  I’d laugh if I didn’t feel so numb and freezing. My jaw starts chattering as soon as Elijah wraps me in my gown. My body finally decides to protect itself against the cold.

  “I can’t go to the hospital dressed like this.” I murmur, looking at the satin gown that covers nothing.

  “Right.” Elijah starts rummaging through my drawers. I mentally hit my head against a wall, especially when he lifts lingerie and holds it up the light. He does this three times, as if carefully inspecting them to double check that they aren’t actual items of clothing suitable for outside.

  “Her clothes are in there,” Rick sighs, and rolls his eyes to me, amusement evident. His phone alerts him to a message and he curses. “I have to go and help with… something.” By the way he deflected the end of his sentence, I’m going to assume he means clean-up of the rapist scumbag.