by Mandy Lee
‘You are crying. Tell me what’s wrong.’
‘Oh God …’
‘Where are you, Maya?’
I gaze around, taking in the pubs, the early evening drinkers, a theatre.
‘That place,’ I blurt. ‘That place with all the roads.’
‘Seven Dials?’
‘Yes. Seven Dials. I’m at the middle of Seven Dials. How do I get to Slaters from here?’
‘Bloody hell, woman,’ Lucy sighs. ‘You’ve gone completely off track tonight. I’ll never guide you from there. Stay exactly where you are. I’m coming to get you.’
I press the end call icon and sit in silence, gazing down at the plastic bag that’s nuzzled between my feet. I have no idea how long I’ve spent like this when I’m finally roused.
‘Hey.’ I look up to find Lucy standing right in front of me. ‘What’s going on with you? Are you turning into a bag lady?’
I push myself up from the stone base.
‘I’m a mess, Lucy.’
‘Well, let’s get a taxi home.’
My stomach gives a lurch. Adrenalin pumps through my body. That’s the first place Dan will look for me, and the last place I want to go.
‘No. I can’t go home.’
‘Why not?’
‘Let’s go for a drink and I’ll tell you.’
Five minutes later, we’re sitting in the window of one of the bars at Seven Dials, perched on two high stools with two large glasses of white wine on the table in front of us, and the plastic bag languishing on the floor alongside my handbag. It’s a busy evening. We’re surrounded by suited, professional types having an after-work drink.
‘So what’s going on?’ she asks.
‘It’s over. Whatever it was between me and Dan, it’s over.’
She stares at me. ‘Why’s that?’
‘Because I think it’s true. What Little Steve said.’
Her face is a blank and clearly there’s some reminding to be done.
‘He is a sadist, Lucy. He gets off on pain. He gets off on hurting people.’
Her eyes seem to expand. Staring at me with a look of pure disbelief, she takes a huge gulp of wine. While her eyes contract to their normal size, a deep frown creases its way across her forehead.
‘Did he hurt you?’ she demands. ‘Because if he did, I’ll knee the bastard in the nuts.’
I bite my lip and gaze out of the window. Should I tell her? Should I really let my best friend in on my tawdry secret: that I’ve willingly subjected myself to a good spanking? With a gargantuan sigh, I realise there’s just no other way ahead.
‘Yes, he did.’
She leans forwards, staring at me earnestly.
‘How? Maya, how did he hurt you?’
‘He …’ I falter for a moment, staring at my glass of wine, suddenly washed through with embarrassment. ‘He spanked me.’ When I look up again, I half expect to find her face spattered with anger and indignation. Instead, she’s giggling.
‘And you didn’t enjoy it?’ she sniggers.
‘What?’
‘Spanking?’
‘Why are you laughing?’
‘You think because he spanked you, it makes him a real sadist? Jesus, spanking’s nothing. Even the local vicar’s at it these days.’
‘Lucy!’
‘I’ve had it done to me.’
‘Lucy! He held me down on the bonnet of his car and gave me ten of the best. Hard. It really fucking hurt! And this, by the way, was shortly after he ordered me to take my knickers off and ripped your blouse to bits.’
‘I didn’t like that blouse anyway.’
‘Lucy, take this seriously.’
‘Lord, why can’t I meet a man like that? He’s a real kinkmeister!’
‘Lucy, for fuck’s sake. He’s got a reputation.’
‘It’s just gossip. Don’t listen to it.’ She waves a hand through the air, as if she’s swatting a fly.
‘You wouldn’t be so flippant if you’d seen the look in his eyes. It scares me, Luce. What if he’s got me all tied up and he really loses it.’
‘He ties you up?’
‘Oh shit.’
I slump forwards, throwing my head into my hands.
‘I told you, didn’t I?’ Lucy squeals. ‘I told you you’d bump into some rich, power-hungry, kinky control freak. You lucky bastard.’
I pick up my glass of wine and down it in one go.
‘You’re supposed to be understanding, you fuckwit.’ I let out a loud belch. ‘This is ridiculous. You know, I thought we were going to have a serious conversation about this. I’ve just jumped out of his car and run off in his jacket. He’ll be out there looking for me.’
‘Fucking hell, Maya. Imagine what it’s going to be like when he finds you. Jeez, you’re in for a right good seeing to.’ With that, she drifts off into her own little world for a moment or two. While she finishes off her own glass of wine, her eyes glaze over. ‘Look, did he hold you down against your will?’ she asks at last.
‘Not exactly.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘He gave me a choice.’ I lean forwards and mutter the next bit through clenched teeth. ‘I’ve got a safeword.’
‘And you didn’t use it?’
I shake my head.
‘Maya, why didn’t you use it?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe I was scared he wouldn’t be interested if I didn’t go through with it.’
‘And maybe it’s because you wanted to try it out. Maybe you’re just as kinky as him.’
I gaze across at Lucy’s face and I have no idea what to say. My brain seems to have set itself on some sort of spin cycle. Thoughts, ideas, emotions: they’re all over the place. It’s just as well that I’m jolted out of the chaos by a male voice.
‘Ladies.’
I look up. I swallow. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out of it.
Because Clive, the evil friend, is standing at our table.
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘I’ll get another drink.’ Lowering herself to the floor, Lucy examines Clive Watson suspiciously, and he stares right back at her. ‘Can I get you anything … er …’
‘Clive.’ He reaches out and shakes her hand. ‘No, thank you. I’m not staying long. And your name is?’
‘Lucy,’ she simpers. ‘I’ll just …’ She points mutely towards the bar before scuttling away.
Clive Watson leans down, picks up the plastic bag and places it on the table in front of me. And then he perches on Lucy’s stool.
‘I’m assuming this is Dan’s jacket in here.’ He taps the bag.
‘It is.’ I pick up my glass. Remembering too late that it’s already empty, I put it back down again. ‘How did you find me?’
He smiles knowingly. ‘You’ve got his mobile. It’s in his jacket pocket. He has an anti-theft tracking device on it. I used my tablet. Easy really.’
‘Is he here?’
Clive shakes his head.
‘No, he’s not.’
I take in a sweep of the bar. Even though Clive’s denying his presence, I’m not entirely sure that Dan would be able to keep his distance, especially not right now. In fact, in all probability, this is just another one of his elaborate traps.
‘He’s pretty certain you’ve had enough of him,’ Clive explains. ‘So he’s giving you some space.’
I chew at my bottom lip and check the room again, half suspecting that Daniel Foster’s idea of space is nowhere near the normal definition of the word.
‘So,’ I sigh at last. ‘You two are talking again.’
‘We are. He came to my place earlier, out of his mind with worry. Apparently, you jumped out of his car. He came after you but you managed to give him the slip. By the time he got back to his car, it had been towed, keys and all. On top of that, he had no mobile and no wallet.’
Good, my brain cries out. He deserves his own punishment for being an idiot!
‘Well, you’ve got them back now.’ I motion towards the
bag. ‘You’ve done your job. You can go.’
Nodding silently, Clive Watson stares at me. Any minute now, he’ll take the bag and disappear off into the night while I continue to drown my sorrows in Pinot Grigio. I shake my head and close my eyes. I should have ended up with Dan tonight, pleasured to within an inch of my life and fucked halfway to oblivion. But now I’ll end up crying myself to sleep … alone. I feel a prick of salt water. Oh great. So I’ve started already.
‘You’re crying.’ I hear Clive’s voice above the din of the pub. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘You were right.’ Opening my eyes, I run my fingers up the stem of the wine glass. ‘I’m no match for Daniel Foster. He was always going to break my heart. I should have listened to you. I should have stayed away.’
He sucks in a deep breath. ‘Well as it happens, my advice was wrong. I’m sorry I interfered. I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ I stare at him, flummoxed by this latest revelation. It’s bad enough that the big kahuna himself has been merrily fucking with my mind for the past few days. I really don’t need the accountant side-kick joining in with the fun. ‘You said …’
‘I know what I said,’ he interrupts. ‘And I shouldn’t have said it.’
‘Care to elaborate?’
He picks up a beermat and flips it over. ‘Okay. The first time I saw you with him, I thought he was up to his old tricks. I told him to leave you alone. And he managed it too … for a few hours anyway.’ He leans in towards me, folding his arms on the table. ‘But he can’t keep away from you, Maya. I thought he was just out to use you, but now … well ... I think it’s more than that.’ He squints out of the window. ‘I’ve never seen him like this before.’
‘Like what?’
‘Besotted.’
In a heartbeat, just about everything that can possibly flap or pump inside my body seems to have kicked into action. Besotted? Well, if I’m not much mistaken, that’s half way to the four letter word.
‘He told you that?’
‘Good God, no.’ Clive shakes his head. ‘But judging by the state he was in tonight …’
‘What state?’
He shakes his head again. ‘He wouldn’t thank me for telling you, and I don’t fancy another black eye.’ He straightens himself up and readjusts his jacket. ‘You’ll have to give him the benefit of the doubt.’
‘It’s not that easy.’
‘Why not?’
I examine Clive’s face. How much does he know about Dan’s preferences, about the way he’s lived his life?
‘He’s got a track record,’ I remind him.
‘And so have I.’
I shoot him a look of disbelief and he raises an eyebrow in return.
‘I know it seems incredible,’ he smiles, ‘but accountants like sex too.’ He glances towards the bar, taking in Lucy’s backside. ‘You were right when you talked about me and Dan going through the women of London like a dose of salts. We did. But we both got fed up with it and we both put an end to it last year.’
‘And how about the clubs?’
He turns back to face me. ‘What clubs?’
‘You know … the kinky places?’
‘Oh those.’ He waves a hand, dismissively. ‘That was never my thing. Dan always went to those places on his own. Does it bother you?’
Of course it bothers me, you moron, especially when he splays me out across the bonnet of his brand new Jaguar XF and spanks the life out of me.
‘Is he a sadist?’ I demand.
‘A sadist?’ Clive Watson battles against a grin. ‘No, I don’t think so. He just got a little too close to the edge last year and he knows that. He pulled himself back. He quit the scene over six months ago.’
‘But ...’
‘Have you been through his jacket pockets yet?’ he asks.
‘What? Well, yes.’
‘And have you opened the little black box?’
For a moment or two, I gawp at the possibly not-so-evil friend, wondering what relevance a little black box can have to anything.
‘No.’
‘Well, why don’t you get it out?’ Moving the empty glasses to one side, he pulls the jacket out of the plastic bag. ‘Go on.’
Digging into the first pocket, I find nothing but the mobile phone. I try the second pocket. Retrieving the box, I hold it in my hands, waiting for the next instruction.
‘Now open it.’
I do as I’m told. My lungs instantly tighten. It’s a necklace … and it’s exquisite. The pendant is small and stylised, but it’s immediately clear what it is: a tiny white flower, set at the heart of a delicate latticework of silver threads.
‘It belonged to Dan’s mother,’ Clive explains. ‘The flower’s mother of pearl. And that,’ he touches the centre of the flower, ‘is a diamond. Just a little one.’ He draws in a breath. ‘Now taken on their own, these materials aren’t too expensive, but when you consider the fact that this is an Art Nouveau necklace made by Louis Comfort Tiffany himself, well … then you’ve got a whole new deal on your hands.’
I pick the necklace out of the box and turn it slowly in my hand, watching the pendant as it latches onto the light. A complete one-off. A Tiffany Art Nouveau necklace. And you’ve been lugging it about the streets of North London, my brain sings out. Not to mention the fact that you nearly dumped it in a bin!
‘I have no idea how much it’s worth,’ Clive presses on, ‘but I do know the Victoria and Albert Museum wanted it. Dan couldn’t let it go. It meant too much to him.’ He leans back on his stool. ‘So, ask yourself, Maya, why was this in his jacket pocket?’
Mesmerised, I continue to stare at the pendant. ‘He wasn’t …’
‘He was. And he is. Now, why would a man want to give a woman something like that?’
I shake my head. This really is a new direction. This really is serious.
‘If you ask me, he’s lost his mind over you.’ I look up to find Clive smiling back at me. ‘He deserves some happiness, believe me. Now, just give the man a break.’
I’m vaguely aware that I’m nodding as I return the necklace to its box.
‘What’s going on?’
Lucy’s voice tears me out of my reverie. Still holding the box, I watch as she slides two fresh glasses of wine onto the table top while Clive stands up, making way for Lucy to reposition her backside on the stool.
‘I won’t be needing that.’ I touch the necklace. ‘I need to go and see Dan.’
‘But what about me?’
‘Don’t worry, Lucy,’ Clive offers. ‘I’ll help you out with the wine. And then I’ll take you home.’
‘And I’ll get a taxi.’ Dismounting from my own stool, I close the box and pick up my handbag.
‘No need,’ Clive smiles.
‘No need?’
‘No.’ He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders apologetically. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ He winks at Lucy. ‘Keep my seat for me.’ Picking up the jacket, he motions for me to follow him. ‘Dan’s outside.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
I smile to myself. Pretty much as I predicted, Daniel Foster’s idea of giving me space amounts to nothing more than a few feet. As soon as I step outside the bar, I catch sight of him, standing jacketless by the column with his hands in his trouser pockets. Staring at the pavement and kicking at a piece of rubbish, he’s completely oblivious to the fact that I’m approaching him until at last, when I’m no more than two steps away, he looks up. His body freezes. His eyes flicker. His lips part.
‘Here’s your jacket.’
Clive’s voice snaps him out of his torpor. Taking a moment to nod silently at his friend, he reaches out for the jacket and shrugs it on. After spending an evening crumpled up in a plastic bag, it’s ridiculously creased.
‘We’ll be alright now,’ he mutters. ‘And Clive?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thanks.’
The two men exchange a second nod before Clive takes himself bac
k inside the pub. And now we’re alone. He stares at me for what can only be a few seconds, but it feels like hours.
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmurs at last. ‘I thought it was what you wanted.’
A smile inches its way across my face, and there’s a burning warmth in my heart.
‘It’s always a good idea to ask first,’ I inform him.
‘You’re quite right.’
We go back to staring at each other. His eyes glimmer in the evening sun and I’m caught.
‘I need you, Maya. I haven’t got a fucking clue what I’m doing here. You’ve got to help me get this right.’
I laugh. ‘You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.’
‘I’m pretty sure you can.’ He smiles. ‘And I’m thirty five. Not that old.’ His eyes travel down to my right hand. ‘You’ve seen it then?’ He takes a step forwards and touches my hand, and I realise that I’m still clutching the black box.
‘Yes. I … er …’
‘This was supposed to be a surprise.’ Gently, he takes the box from my hand.
‘It’s too precious,’ I complain. ‘If you still want to give it to me, I can’t accept it.’
‘Turn around.’
‘But …’
‘Please just do as I say.’
He takes me by the shoulder and swivels me round on the spot. And although I know what he’s about to do, I still take in a little breath when I feel his hands on my shoulders. He gathers my hair and brushes it to one side. Another few seconds pass by before I’m aware of his arms encircling me. The necklace flashes in front of my eyes and then it’s laid on my skin.
‘But …’
He fastens the clasp.
‘You’re a silver woman. I noticed that on our first date. Yorkshire jet and silver.’
I smile silently, reaching up to touch the pendant, making sure it’s really there.
‘Now,’ he turns me back to face him. ‘Never take this off.’
‘Never?’
‘Ever.’
I touch the pendant again and the imp in me wants to make a point. ‘Oh, I get it. You’re in charge and this shows that I belong to you.’
‘Something like that.’
‘So, what are you going to wear to show that you belong to me?’
‘Well, I don’t do necklaces.’ He cocks me a grin and seems a little embarrassed. ‘I’ll think of something. Maybe a ring at some point.’
