You Don't Know Me

by Mandy Lee

  ‘Don’t tell me to behave myself.’

  ‘Maya!’

  ‘I never agreed to being punished.’

  ‘Because we haven’t discussed it yet.’

  ‘So you were going to bring it up?’

  ‘Absolutely. Compliance, control, defiance, punishment. It’s all part of the deal. Maya, what the fuck is the matter with you tonight?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Something’s wrong.’

  I try to swallow, but there’s suddenly a huge, drunken sob working its way up my throat. Fuck it. I’m about to cry.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ I blurt.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I can’t deal with this.’

  ‘Can’t deal with what?’

  ‘You. I can’t see you again.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because … I don’t understand you, because I don’t know where I am with you. Because …’ The drunken sob explodes into the open. ‘Because you scare me, Dan. Yes, you scare me!’

  ‘Maya!’

  I turn off the phone and sling it into my handbag. My head is swimming. I barely know where I am.

  ***

  The alarm bores its way into my head. Reaching out with an unsteady arm, I tap it back into silence, gazing at the display, realising that I can’t go into work for two very good reasons: firstly, I’m not convinced that I’ll be able to make it through the day without collapsing in a shambolic heap; and secondly, after last night’s phone call, I should probably never show my face at Fosters Construction again. But even now, I’m not entirely sure that I’m finished with the big kahuna, and perhaps it would be best to hedge my bets. Deciding to call in sick and spend the next few hours in my bedroom nursing the hangover from hell, I force my head up from the pillow and discover my handbag lurking in the corner of the room. It takes an age for me to crawl out of bed and launch my body in the right direction. When I’ve finally managed to rescue my mobile, I stumble back over to the bed and collapse onto the covers. Turning the phone back on, I squint at the screen and my stomach turns a somersault. Seven missed calls from Dan.

  After giving my excuses to Mrs Kavanagh, I doze for a while before I finally haul myself back out of bed. I tug on shorts and a T-shirt, shuffle into the kitchen, make breakfast and return to my bedroom with a mug of tea and a plate of toast. Chewing on my breakfast and slugging back the tea, I spend a good few minutes staring at the canvas. And then I just can’t help myself …

  Pulling out the palette, I choose my colours: cadmium yellow, burnt ochre, raw sienna, umber, copper, bronze, pewter, Prussian blue. I squeeze a blob of each onto the palette, playing with the colours, mixing them, merging them until I’m happy. And then I begin: a daub here, a swirl there, a stroke drawn out across the canvas. Out of the darkness, shapes begin to emerge, colours spring to life, and I’m lost in it all. Time dissolves, the outside world disappears and even though the streets of Camden are rattling with noise, I’m cocooned in silence. Every now and then I lie on the bed, taking stock of where I am. Every now and then, I scurry into the kitchen for a glass of water to keep myself going. Finally, I realise that there’s nothing more to do. I’m faced with a woodland landscape, my own sanctuary.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Lucy asks from the doorway.

  I give a start. I didn’t even hear the door open.

  ‘Yes. I’ve been painting.’

  ‘I knew you were,’ she grins. ‘I’ve been on the sofa all day. Daytime television is a pile of shite, you know. Have you eaten?’

  ‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I haven’t had anything since breakfast. Just water. What time is it?’

  ‘Nearly six.’

  ‘Is it?’

  I gaze at the alarm clock in amazement.

  ‘I’m doing the Friday night special. Half an hour. You’d better get cleaned up.’

  She nods at my T-shirt which is now smeared with paint in varying hues. And then she notices the finished painting. Her mouth falls open.

  ‘It’s done?’ she gawps.

  ‘Yes.’ I sigh contentedly. ‘I think it is.’

  She shuffles forwards and sits on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Bloody hell, Maya. It’s wonderful! You’re back in the swing, lady. And you’ve got Daniel Foster to thank for that.’

  At the mention of his name, a strange, warm sensation skitters its way through my chest, followed quickly by a cold flush of disappointment. Yes, I have got Daniel Foster to thank for all of this. Somehow, he managed to flick on a switch inside me. If only everything about him could be so positive.

  ‘You know, I’d love to show this at the exhibition. It’ll be dry by then.’

  I screw up my face.

  ‘I’m not sure …’

  ‘Maya, just let me do it. The Steves are going to go ape over this.’

  I gaze at my painting. I’m not really sure I can part with it. But then again, it would really boost my confidence if it was sold.

  ‘Okay,’ I breathe at last. ‘Do it.’

  I take my time cleaning up. Brushes have to be cleaned through with turpentine, the palette has to be scrubbed down and then rubbed with linseed oil. And then I see to myself, removing the smears of paint from my arms and face, and finally jumping into the shower. Finally, near to eight, I join Lucy for dinner: fish finger sandwiches. Even Lucy can’t go wrong with those. I find her slumped at the kitchen table with an open bottle of wine in front of her. She offers to pour me a glass and I decline. After a full day of hung-over painting, I decide that I need an early night. By nine o’clock, I’m back in bed.

  ***

  I’m barely awake, but as soon as I’m conscious I know I’m not alone. My arms are being manoeuvred above my head. Fingers curl around my wrists, holding me in place. I can feel the heat of another body against mine. I smell a familiar scent. In a daze, I open my eyes to find the dark outline of a face in front of me. In light of everything I know, I should be panicking right now, but I’m not. He’s here, right here in my bedroom, and God knows how that’s happened. He’s already naked and the sheet has been pulled off the bed. I can see that much in the gloom.

  ‘Dan?’

  ‘Shush.’

  With his free hand, he runs his fingertips down the side of my face, my neck, across my left breast and down to my stomach. Nerves come alive. His lips brush against mine while the fingertips trail their way out across my hips and back inwards, towards my crotch. My breath catches at the waves of pleasure that are coursing through me. He takes full advantage of my open mouth, closing in for a kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth. My brain is in chaos. I just don’t have the willpower to stop this. Instead, I accept him and find myself caught in a long, slow, glorious kiss, our tongues twisting silently against each other. I close my eyes and moan into him, while he gently forces my legs further apart. His fingers enter me, his thumb working at my clit. I’m possessed, brain-washed by ecstasy. Finally, his mouth releases me.

  ‘You don’t speak unless I tell you to,’ he whispers in the darkness, manoeuvring himself on top of me. ‘Remember the rules.’

  Shit. Why can’t my body just obey my brain? After all, a man who’s quite possibly some sort of sadist has broken into my bedroom in the middle of the night and now he’s pinning me to the bed, and I’m pretty certain that he’s about to fuck me senseless. I should be panicking. I should be screaming out my safeword. But my mouth refuses to move. And why is it refusing to move? Because his fucking gorgeous torso is arched above me now and he’s reaching down, pressing his palm against my clit. My heart rate zooms off the scale. I’m on fire. This is wrong. On so many bloody levels, this is wrong.

  He nudges a knee between my legs, urging them open, and in spite of all my doubts, I find myself caving in immediately. Even if I could get up and bolt for the door right now, I’m not sure that I’d want to. He rubs his erection against my clitoris, firing me up into a mess of want. Taking both of my hands in one of his own, he holds them firm on the pillow above my head
.

  ‘No,’ I manage to moan at last. ‘Don’t do this.’

  ‘You know what to say.’

  Yes, I do know what to say, but my lips just don’t seem to be able to form the word. I moan again. He lowers his head, sealing my mouth with a kiss. His tongue seeks entry and I let him in without hesitation. Why is my body doing this? He certainly knows how to win me back. No talking. Just action. Get straight down to the nitty-gritty.

  ‘What did I tell you, Maya?’ he demands softly, rubbing his cock harder against me.

  ‘I don’t know …’

  ‘Of course you know. Think. What did I tell you?’

  He inches into me, slowly, feeling his way in, making sure that I give, waiting for me to become wet enough. Deeper and deeper, he edges inwards.

  ‘Answer me,’ he breathes.

  ‘Not to run,’ I gasp. ‘You told me not to run.’

  ‘No matter what people said.’

  Another push and he’s as deep as he can go. He begins to withdraw, at an agonisingly slow pace. He kisses me again, lapping his tongue around my mouth.

  ‘So you’re here to punish me?’

  He pushes in one more time, and I begin to tingle. ‘Does this feel like punishment?’

  Again he withdraws, blanketing my lips with his own. Again he presses inwards. ‘You need to trust me.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You don’t have a choice, Maya. It’s too late.’

  He arches his back, adjusting his position slightly, and moves his head down to my chest. Closing his lips around my right nipple, he begins to suck gently. I’m sent into a spin, hurtling away from anything that vaguely resembles logic and reason. After what seems an age, his face is back in front of mine.

  ‘You don’t need to be scared of me.’

  He begins to quicken, picking up the pace, but remaining gentle. And then, he releases my hands. I can barely believe it. I’m actually being allowed to touch him. If it wasn’t currently the middle of a heatwave, I’d think it was Christmas. My hands make an immediate beeline for his shoulders, clutching at the contours of his muscles, running across his back, down his strong arms and finally across his chest. Every square inch of him is defined to perfection, chiselled by hours of workouts, and this powerhouse of masculinity is arching itself above me now, pumping his cock into me and sending my muscles to the point of delirium.

  I have no idea how long it goes on for. Spasms gather at my centre, the pressure inside building to the edge of an explosion, and he keeps me there for minutes on end, until I can barely breathe. At last, I can’t hold it any longer. I have to let go, and I do it with style, lifting my backside off the bed as my body convulses. He doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, while my orgasm clutches at him furiously, one hand slides under my buttocks, holding me in place and he begins to pound out an orgasm of his own, sending me whirling for a second time. At last, he cries out into the darkness, his body jolting as he comes inside me. When he finally manages to gain control of himself, he lowers his body down on top of me, carefully, digging his head into my neck while he steadies the rhythm of his breath. I stroke his hair and begin to wonder what the fuck I’m playing at. In spite of everything I’ve been told about this man, I’ve caved in to desire. I’m sleepwalking straight into trouble. And I just can’t help myself.

  ‘Dan?’

  ‘Shush.’

  He stays inside me. Bringing a hand round to the back of my head and holding me tight, he begins to kiss me, softly at first, gradually working up in intensity, pummelling me with a ferocious passion that I’ve never known before. And I kiss him back. Reaching up, I run my hands around his neck, clutching at him possessively. It goes on for so long my lips grow sore. At last, he pulls away, withdrawing himself at the same time down below, and I’m shocked to feel his fingers thrusting straight inside me. They swirl about before he removes them, wiping them across my lips, encouraging my mouth to open. He gives me a moment to savour the taste – a curious, sweet mixture, laced with a hint of salt - before he kisses me one more time, his tongue lapping up the contents of my mouth.

  ‘You and me,’ he says at last. ‘That’s the taste of us.’

  ‘You’re filthy.’

  ‘And you love it.’

  Rolling onto his side, he motions for me to curl up in his arms. I move myself over and nestle against his shoulder. It’s a space that feels just right, as if it’s been tailor made for me. His right arm closes around my waist.

  ‘How come you’re here?’ I murmur at last.

  I turn my head, taking in the outline of his face. Against the faint glow of the streetlamp outside, I can barely see a thing. All I know is that he’s staring at the ceiling.

  ‘Last minute helicopter charter,’ he explains. ‘They don’t come cheap. I got a taxi straight from the airport to here. Lucy was still up. She let me in.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Don’t be angry with her.’ He gives me a squeeze. ‘She didn’t stand a chance. I can charm the birds from the trees when I want to.’

  It takes another moment or two for the enormity of it all to hit home.

  ‘You walked out on the bid because of me?’

  ‘Yep.’

  I roll onto my side.

  ‘You lost the deal?’

  ‘Maybe,’ he sighs. ‘And maybe not.’

  ‘But it’s going to cost the company …’

  ‘Relax, Maya. I had a team with me. After I headed up the main presentation, I left them to it.’ He pauses, tucking his free arm behind his head. It may be gloomy in here but I’m pretty sure that he’s smiling right now. ‘It’s probably a good thing I bowed out. I could barely concentrate on what I was saying.’

  ‘And you look like you’ve been in a bar room brawl.’ I reach up and touch his lip. ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘A little.’ He takes my hand and plants a kiss on my knuckles. ‘But not enough to stop me kissing you.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have done this.’

  ‘I had no choice.’ Reaching over, he skims a finger down the side of my face. ‘My woman was in a tizzy because some git who calls himself a friend decided to stir things up.’

  ‘Oh God.’ I collapse back into his shoulders and gaze up at him. ‘You know about that?’

  He nods.

  ‘I called him after I called you. He owned up to what he’d done, but he wasn’t too forthcoming with the details.’ He readjusts his head. ‘What did he tell you? I need to know.’

  I cringe. This is going to be painful.

  ‘He said ...’ I falter, rummaging around in my brain for a way ahead. How the hell do I tell him without giving too much away? ‘He said I’m not your usual type.’

  ‘True enough.’

  I wait for him to elaborate but nothing comes.

  ‘He said you’d end up hurting me.’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Physically or emotionally?’

  He lifts his head from the pillow.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks. ‘Do you think I’m dangerous? Do you think I’d harm you?’ He pulls my head against his mouth and whispers into my ear. ‘I’ll give you pain - whenever you want it - because it turns you on, and that turns me on. But I will never, ever harm you. Capiche?’ When I finally nod, he lets me go.

  ‘But what about punishment?’ I ask, cringing as soon as the words come spilling out into the dark. I hate myself. My voice sounds so small.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Orders, compliance, disobedience, punishment. You wanted to spank me the other night.’

  ‘I said I wanted to. I didn’t say I would. It’s what I’m used to.’

  ‘You want me to submit.’

  ‘You’ve already agreed to it.’

  ‘In sex. That’s all.’

  ‘And maybe we should extend that a little. You doubted me and I need your trust. Punishment goes hand in hand with control in my world. If you allow me to punish you, it means that you submit to me completely. It means that you give
me your trust.’

  ‘You want me to agree to this so you can boss me about?’

  He laughs.

  ‘I only want to boss you about when it comes to sex … and anything that affects it. I wouldn’t dare boss you about in any other way. I wouldn’t spank you for going out with your friend and getting blind drunk without telling me.’ He lowers his voice and slows his pace. ‘But I would spank you for ignoring me, and I would spank you for doubting me.’

  ‘I don’t know …’

  He takes my chin in his hand, turning my face towards him so I have no choice but to look him straight into his eyes.

  ‘This is a learning process for both of us, Maya. The deal’s not closed yet. We’re still in the negotiation phase. There’s got to be some give and take on both sides.’

  ‘I’m not going to let you control my life.’

  ‘I’m fully aware of that. And if you don’t want to do something, then we don’t do it.’ He releases my chin and strokes his thumb across my lips, sending a shimmer of want throughout my body. ‘But when I spanked you the other day, you came for a second time which suggests to me that you enjoyed it. So keep your mind open. That’s all I’m saying.’

  I let my head fall against his shoulder, drinking in his scent while he gently traces a line down my throat, across my breasts, swirling his finger around my left nipple. Along with the talk of spanking, it’s enough to set off a flurry of sparks in my abdomen. ‘We could try it, I suppose.’

  He nods slightly.

  ‘So, that’s it then?’ he asks. ‘That’s what put the fear of God into you?’

  ‘No.’

  I falter again. I just can’t ask him about the whipping. Not now. His fingers have moved down to my stomach and he’s clearly in the mood for another go. I’m not about to say something that could slam the brakes on round two.

  ‘So what else did that fucker say?’

  ‘He said you’re incapable of …’ I pause for a moment, biting back the final word before it escapes from my mouth. This isn’t the time or the place to bring up the L word. Instead, I replace it with the first thing that comes to mind. ‘He said you’re incapable of having a relationship.’