by Lily Harlem
The bus stopped and started so many times to let people on and off that I stifled the urge to scream. I felt tense at not knowing where we were going, the bus only touring the streets of Brixton; but in a way I should be pleased we weren’t going anywhere more further afield. At least I was fairly close to home and could get back quickly if things turned pear-shaped.
And what if they did? What if Liuz was meeting another man like Beefcake, one who had a penchant for handing out right hooks that resulted in broken noses, among other things? I shuddered at the thought. It was all very well me getting involved with Liuz, my own little bit of rough; but with other bits of rough on the scene, what had started out as my need for a sex rush could turn into something rather nasty. No one knew where I was going today – and really, they wouldn’t want to know about my latest escapades anyway – but if something went wrong, no one would be able to find me for days. Or ever.
I had to stop thinking like that. These men were dangerous, yes, but come on, did I really think they were high-ranking gangster types who could have me disappear without a trace?
Unfortunately, yes, I did. I knew enough from snooping for my job to spot a dodgy man when I saw one, and Liuz and Beefcake were dodgy. I liked to think Liuz was less so. I couldn’t imagine him knee-capping someone, resorting to terrible violence to get what he wanted; but then again, I didn’t really know him, did I? He’d only shown me the side of himself he wanted me to see, a knife with a sharp edge that could cut if mishandled but was perfectly OK to play with so long as I was careful and just held the handle.
The bus bell buzzed, a mechanical, wasp-like sound that sent my heart pounding. Footsteps clattered above then on the staircase. My stomach muscles contracted, the thought of seeing Liuz appear sending me lower into my seat. I peeked through the space between the two headrests in front, the fuzzy fabric scratchy on cheeks growing hot from the subterfuge. My nerves, God, they seemed to rattle and ping all over the place, and if I wasn’t careful I’d be sick. I didn’t usually feel this way when working, but this wasn’t the same as work. This was mixing business with pleasure.
Liuz came into view and walked straight from the stairwell to the double doors ahead. They opened with a wheeze and a whine, and I shot out of my seat and trotted down the aisle. He stepped off into an empty street filled with abandoned houses, their windows boarded up with steel rectangles. Wonderful, a dodgy setting to go with the dodgy men. No one but myself and Liuz were about, so if he turned to look behind himself he’d clock me right away. As the bus pulled away, I darted into a hedgerow bordering a front garden, twigs grasping at my hat and sending my sunglasses askew. I parted the leaves and watched Liuz. He didn’t go anywhere, just stood at the bus stop as though awaiting another bus. And maybe he was, but gut instinct told me he’d been instructed to wait there. He looked around, eyes keen, hands no longer in his pockets. Did he need them free in case trouble found him?
As though he’d heard my thoughts, he fisted his hands.
Crap.
A screech sounded, like an angry bird ousted from its nest by a usurper, and I jumped a little, holding in the shout of surprise that sat on my tongue. At one of the houses opposite, a man stood in the doorway, a big brutish bastard who didn’t look like he was a stranger to illegal boxing matches. Liuz walked across the deserted street and came to a stop in front of the beast, who was a head taller than my man and about a foot wider. Liuz nodded, and they went inside, leaving the door ajar.
It was fate, wasn’t it? How could it not be when so much seemed to go my way? Normally, that door would have been shut up tight and I’d have to find some other means of eavesdropping. But, like the warehouse episode, the way had been left clear.
I scrabbled out of the hedge, a small fight between me and the twigs ensuing, then ran across the street, not worried about being seen due to the steel over the windows. I crept up the short, broken-concrete path leading to the front door. The garden hadn’t been tended to in God knew how long, the grass knee-height and coarse, any flowers in previously cared-for borders a thing of the past. I positioned myself against the side wall of the house to the right of the front door and strained to listen.
No sounds came from within, and curiosity got the better of me. I sucked in a long breath and decided to go inside. It wouldn’t hurt if I stood in the hallway. I pushed the door open a little more and listened again. Still no sounds. Stepping inside, I waited in the small foyer, spying a battered old shoe lying at the bottom of the stairs that a previous tenant must have left behind.
Or did the shoe belong to someone the man had dealt with?
Before my mind ran away with itself, I cut off those kinds of thoughts and took a couple of steps forward to stand beside what I assumed was a living room doorway to my left. A doorway without a door. I looked into the shadows ahead and saw nothing but a dense grey mass. No darker body shapes interrupted it, so I assumed Liuz and the man had either gone further into the house or upstairs.
Upstairs it was. A floorboard groaned above, and I went to the bottom of the stairs and gazed up into more greyness, brighter than it was in the living room because of the front door letting in light. Quietly, I climbed six carpeted steps, praying none of them creaked. They didn’t. I pulled the recorder out of my pocket, held it between two baluster rails, clicked it on, and waited.
I didn’t have to wait long.
‘So you will do it?’ Liuz asked.
‘I will.’
If the only other man in this place was the one I’d seen at the front door, his voice was just as menacing as his appearance.
‘The trouble is,’ the man said, London accent as thick as Beefcake’s, ‘he has people who’ll know you had this sorted. People who know he’s dealing with you. He might not tell them how he’s extracting payment off you, but they’ll be well aware to look in your direction if something happens to him.’
‘I have thought of that. I want you to do it while I am with him.’
‘You fucking what?’
‘I want you to come to my flat while he is there. Make it seem like a break-in gone wrong.’
‘Right.’
Were they discussing what I thought they were discussing? Was Liuz asking this man to hurt Beefcake? I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep my voice recorder on.
‘So,’ the man said after a long pause. ‘What happens after I’ve done and gone?’
‘I will call the police. Report it. News will get back to his men that way.’
‘Yeah, he’ll have coppers in his pocket, no doubt about that.’
‘And I will have a witness.’
‘Nah, that’s just getting messy, mate. The less people involved the better.’
‘She will not know anything except what she sees.’
Oh my fucking God…
‘She will give the police a statement that corroborates the fact someone burst into my flat and killed him.’
I held in a whimper of shock.
‘Killed him?’ the man asked. ‘That’s a bit steep for what’s going on between you, mate. I thought you meant roughing him up a bit, know what I mean? If anyone has a grudge against him, one that excuses killing him, it’s me. For what he did to my –’
‘Rough him up, then,’ Liuz said. ‘But enough for him to know he must not mess with me, at the same time making it look as though it has nothing to do with me.’
‘That’s a tough one. How’d you expect to get your point across while keeping your nose clean at the same time?’
‘I will tell him people are after me, that it is best he does not visit my flat again. I do not want him near my witness after this. She is … I do not wish to pay him in the manner he wants to be paid.’
‘Let me get this straight. You owe him money and you can’t pay him until the end of next week when you sell whatever shit it is for him that you were supposed to sell before. In the meantime, he’s getting payment from you some other way – I don’t want to know how. So if you can’t pay him, how the fuck
do you expect to pay me?’
‘I have enough to pay you. I have it here. With me.’
‘What, you’ve got enough on you to cover the cost of killing him? That’s what you originally wanted, yeah?’
‘No, what I have on me would have covered a retainer for that. Or at least a payment to show good faith.’
‘Right. So you’re telling me you’ve got two grand on you, yeah?’
‘I do.’
‘Show me.’
The shuffle of papers seemed to scream out.
‘Fair enough,’ the man said. ‘How come you couldn’t give him this two grand?’
‘He wants all the payment in one go.’
‘How much do you owe him, for fuck’s sake?’
‘Ten.’
‘Shit. Rather you than me, mate.’
‘So you will do it? Break in and hurt him?’
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
‘Tonight.’
With my heart hammering, I slunk down the stairs and out into the street, switching off my recorder and putting it in my pocket. I glanced up and down the street, refusing to entertain thoughts of the coming evening. I didn’t need to ask myself if I would be Liuz’s witness. I didn’t need to question whether I was insane – I knew I was well on the way there. And I didn’t need to question why it was imperative I get back home as fast as I could so I was there to wait for Liuz’s email that was certain to arrive.
An invitation to witness Beefcake being beaten.
It was wrong, it went against all my beliefs, but it seemed that when it came to Liuz, I was lost to whatever he wanted.
I jogged down the street, out of sight of the house, and waited at a bus stop. A bus would be along any minute, one that would take me close to my place. Home. I had to get home. To boot-up my computer. To sit and wait for the tinkle that told me email had arrived. And to think on what the hell Beefcake had done to that burly man that warranted him being killed.
Chapter Eleven
The shower water rained hard and heavy on my scalp, soaking my hair and streaming down my face and body. I reached for my vanilla and lotus flower shower gel and lathered up, inhaling the sweetly exotic fragrance as it infused the steamy air.
Soon I would be on my way to Liuz’s again. I shouldn’t be, not really. I should be calling the police or the authorities or something. Reporting the crime that was about to be committed.
‘Come and be my slut again,’ he’d said in his email. ‘I promise it will be the best night ever.’
‘How can I refuse?’ I’d replied. ‘See you at nine?’
‘Perfect, Aniolku, perfect.’
It had been a brief exchange, simply arranging for my body, with my orifices, to come to his home. Or so Liuz thought. Because I knew better, and for the first time since our sordid affair had started I felt dirty. Dirty and hesitant. Maybe even used.
Would it stop me going?
Hell no. Liuz needed me – so what if he used me, so what if I was to be his witness? When you loved someone it was possible to do anything for them, even stand by and watch a man get beaten – or worse.
I re-lathered my body and turned up the heat on the cooling water. Another minute and the shower would turn cold then I would have no choice but to get out and put on my slut clothes.
* * *
By nine o’clock the sun had dipped below the rooftops and Woodstone Road was strewn with shadow, darkening the small, mainly paved front gardens and creating pockets of blackness between the street-parked cars.
I pushed through the front door of Liuz’s building feeling almost like one of the residents. I was becoming quite a regular visitor in my miniscule red skirt and spray-on vest tops. Briefly, it crossed my mind what the neighbours thought of my comings and goings. Did they think I was a real whore? A slut who came round to be used and abused and paid with money not orgasms? The thought would have normally thrilled me, but tonight was different. Tonight I wasn’t just a body, with tight wet holes crying out to be fucked, I was also a pair of eyes, a witness – an accessory.
Clacking across the foyer, I noticed, with surprise, that there was no blindfold on the door handle.
What did that mean? Had he just forgotten? No, silly me, I needed my eyes to be a witness.
I knocked on the door, but needn’t have bothered because it swung open as I was tapping.
‘Dirty Bitch,’ Liuz said, reaching for my wrist and tugging me briskly inside. ‘You are late.’ The door slammed. Liuz didn’t flick the latch.
His face was tense; his craggy brows hung low and his cheeks looked a little sunken. He shoved a hand through his hair, and it flopped back messily around his forehead, one strand just touching the long lashes around his left eye.
I wasn’t late. It was nine on the dot.
‘About time.’ Beefcake’s gritty, deep voice came from where he sat on the sofa.
My heart stuttered and my stomach clenched. He was here already. There was no time for me and Liuz to talk or fuck – it was straight down to business.
‘You remember Grant from last night?’ Liuz asked, pressing his hand into the small of my back and urging me forward.
I swallowed, mouth dry, and stared at Beefcake, or rather, Grant, as he turned his big meaty face and leered at me. Suddenly I felt grateful for the blindfold last night. His lumpy, bald skull shone disconcertingly, and his fat, squashed nose was shiny and red. Small black eyes narrowed further as he scanned me up and down. What had first been a sexy, don’t-fuck-with-me allure was now so infused with menace that I would have quite happily turned and walked away.
Except I couldn’t. Liuz needed me.
‘Not the oil painting you hoped for, eh?’ Beefcake said, standing. ‘Just goes to prove you don’t need a pretty face to be able to fuck well.’ He knocked back the remnants of the amber liquid in his glass and set it aside. ‘And fuck you well I did. You were screaming for more.’ He walked over to me and cupped my chin. Whiskey-laden breath washed over my face. ‘Well, you’re going to get more. I’m going to fuck your tight little ass again, over and over until you’re raw and bleeding and begging for me to stop making you come.’ He slid his hand from my chin, down my throat and to my breast. He squeezed, hard, uncomfortably.
I barely suppressed a whimper.
‘What’s the matter, Dirty Bitch? You not up for it tonight?’ His attention snapped to Liuz, a frown furrowing his fleshy brow.
‘She is always up for it,’ Liuz said, spinning me to face him and forcing Beefcake to release my breast.
The urgency in Liuz’s gaze harnessed my attention; he darted the tip of his tongue out and swept it over his top lip. Then he kissed me, deeply and passionately, filling me up with his flavour and his strength. I clung to him, fisting my hands on his soft, black T-shirt.
He was communicating with his mouth. We didn’t need words. We were so connected, so in harmony with one another. It was clear he was telling me to be strong, to re-find my slut-self and give a good performance. He needed me to do this. He needed his Dirty Bitch to be by his side during this dangerous time.
I would be there for him.
Heat pooled in my pussy as he roamed his hands over my back, my ass cheeks and up my skirt. Parting my legs to give him better access to the gusset of my thong, I allowed myself to melt into him, delighting in the feel of his body against mine. He delved his long, elegant fingers into my wetness, and a gasp escaped as he probed high, with two, maybe three fingers. I clenched around him, a gush of creamy moisture leaking from me.
He broke the kiss and withdrew his fingers.
I opened my eyes and staggered slightly as he released me and stepped away.
He held up his hand. ‘See this,’ he said. ‘So fucking wet for it, she is dripping. It is always the same, cannot ever get enough cock.’ He put his shiny index and middle finger into his mouth and sucked noisily, closing his eyes and giving a low, approving growl.
The sight had me near to combusting. I didn’t need
to search hard for my slutty-self, she had seared back into the room like a bolt of lightning. Every cell in my body screamed fuck. I needed filling with hard, hot cock, and the sooner and the faster the better.
Beefcake huffed and glanced at my flushed face and parted lips. ‘Yeah, I see your point.’ He shucked out of his jacket and placed it on the back of the sofa. The way he laid it left a shiny black handle visible.
Gun.
Fear turned my stomach as a whole host of blood-red images peppered my mind’s eye. Death. Severed body parts. Smoking barrels. Arteries pumping their liquid contents onto the ceiling, the walls, the carpet.
My knees turned watery, my spine soft.
Liuz put his arm back around me. He flicked his gaze from the gun to my face. ‘I’ve got you,’ he murmured into my ear. His voice dropped lower, like a warm breeze over meadow grass. I could almost have imagined it. ‘Play the game.’
‘What’s the matter with her?’ Beefcake grunted, shoving down his black, grimy jeans to reveal Homer Simpson boxer briefs.
‘Nothing,’ Liuz said. ‘She is fine.’
‘Maybe we should blindfold her again.’
‘Nah, she is good.’ He gave me a little squeeze as if to jolt me from my daze.
‘I, er, I like your boxers,’ I managed.
Beefcake gave a snarl, which balled his cheeks and showed teeth that were surprisingly good. I guessed it was as close to smiling as he ever got. ‘Yeah, from my kid last Christmas.’
‘Oh … nice.’ He had a kid. Shit, I really didn’t want to be part of murder that would leave a child fatherless.
But it wouldn’t be murder. Just a rough-up.
