by J Lerman
‘But I didn’t take anything,’ I say. ‘I had a shot and half a beer, but that’s all.’
‘We see it all the time on student rag week,’ says the nurse. ‘Alcohol poisoning, usually, but the odd idiot like you takes something stronger. You were lucky.’
‘But really, I didn’t,’ I say, feeling on the verge of tears.
‘Maybe you’ll remember better later,’ the nurse says with a wink. She turns around. ‘Oh! My word.’
I close my bruisey eyes, wondering what’s bothering her. When I open them again, I see the tall, shadowy figure of Marc Blackwell standing over my bed. He looks pointedly at the nurse, who hurries away, then he swishes the hospital curtain around us.
‘What happened to you?’ he asks softly, taking my wrist. It’s covered in bruises from where the handcuff cut back and forth all day. ‘Who did this to you?’
‘No one,’ I say. ‘It’s student rag week. I was handcuffed to another student.’ I’m too weak to worry about what I must look like.
Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘Male or female?’
‘Male.’
‘Who?’
‘Ryan.’
Marc slaps a hand on the bed. ‘I’m taking you out of here. To a private facility. They say you took something.’
‘But I didn’t,’ I say. ‘Truly I didn’t. Maybe it was something I ate. They said I’m going to be okay,’ I say. ‘I just need rest.’
‘Well, I’d rather be safe than sorry. I have an ambulance waiting outside, and I’ve arranged for you to be taken to a facility in West London.’
‘The nurse doesn’t believe I didn’t take anything,’ I say, feeling tearful again. ‘But I really didn’t.’
Marc doesn’t say anything.
Chapter 34
The private hospital room is full of roses when I arrive – pink, yellow and red blooms on every surface. Marc was beside me in the ambulance, but he didn’t say a word. He seemed furious. As I’m wheeled into the private room by a hospital orderly, Marc helps me onto the bed.
‘I’m feeling much better,’ I croak, although my eyes still ache.
‘Rest here,’ says Marc, marching towards the door. ‘I’ve hired people to take care of you around the clock. I’ll be back, but there’s something I need to do first.’ At the door, a pretty brown-haired nurse in a white uniform is waiting.
‘Give her anything she wants,’ says Marc, ‘and be very careful when you take her blood. Her wrist is badly bruised.’
He marches off, and the nurse comes into the room.
‘I’m Trinity,’ she says. ‘Marc’s hired me to be your personal nurse. I need to take some blood from you, and then he’s asked me to make you comfortable. Bring you whatever food you’d like and set up some movies for you.’
I notice a flat screen opposite the bed, and see green bushes and trees outside the window.
She takes my blood very carefully, and I hardly feel the syringe at all.
‘Well, now,’ she says, when she’s disposed of the needle and packed up the blood sample. ‘What can I get you to eat? Marc’s given me specific orders. Any meal you like from any restaurant in London. You can have Gordon Ramsey himself cook you a meal, if you like. He’s a personal friend of Marc’s.’
I smile at the thought. What would Jen think if she could see me now? I decide I won’t ring her or my family from the hospital. They’d only worry.
I feel my stomach grumble at the thought of food. ‘Actually, the thing I’d most like is pizza,’ I say. ‘Followed by ice cream.’
‘Your wish is my command,’ says Trinity. ‘Marc’s bought you some sweatpants and t-shirts to help you get comfortable. He really does care for his students, doesn’t he?’
Perhaps more than he should, I think. I’m finding it hard to get a grip on everything that’s happening. Is this wrong or right? I appreciate Marc taking care of me, and bringing me to this fancy hospital where they can run specialist tests. But would he do this for all his students? If he wouldn’t, it isn’t fair. I want Marc so badly, but I don’t want special treatment. I don’t want favouritism.
I find myself watching the door, hoping Marc will come back. It’s been such a whirlwind so far, I haven’t thought about much but Marc’s body and the things he’s done to me. But I am his pupil, and he’s my lecturer. He’s in a position of authority and he’s not supposed to abuse it. I’m so confused. The only thing I know for certain is that I want to see him again. Actually, not just see him. I want him to touch me again.
After a while, Trinity returns. ‘We got your test results,’ she says. ‘Marc made sure everything went through extra fast.’
Which I guess means he paid a lot of money, I think, feeling uncomfortable.
‘What did they say?’ I ask.
‘You took something with rat poison in it. But you’ll be absolutely fine. It was a very low dose, and the body has excellent ways of getting rid of poison.’
‘Rat poison?’ My stomach lurches. ‘But how?’
‘It’s something we often find cut with hard drugs.’
‘But I haven’t taken any hard drugs.’
‘Who were you with today?’
‘Another student called Ryan.’
‘Was he taking anything?’
I think back to Ryan’s bleary eyes and agitated manner. I thought he was just drunk, but ... ‘Maybe,’ I admit. ‘It’s possible.’
‘And could you have taken something by mistake?’
Then it hits me. The Coca Cola. In the toilets. He opened my drink for me. It was such a strange thing for him to do. So unlike him to do something thoughtful.
‘Maybe he put something in my drink,’ I say.
Trinity nods. ‘Sounds like the most likely explanation.’
Chapter 35
A few hours later, I’m eating pepperoni pizza and watching Shakespeare in Love on the flat screen TV. When the pizza is finished, I start on a tub of cookies and cream ice cream. Trinity brought me three flavours, just to make sure she picked one I liked. She needn’t have worried. I like all ice cream.
A few specialists have come to see me, and checked my temperature and asked me questions. But otherwise, I’ve been on my own.
I have to admit, hospital or not, I’m not having such a bad time, except for the aching feeling I have when I think of Marc. Aside from the fact I want to see him, my heart aches to know he might think I took drugs with Ryan.
A tall shadow falls over the glazed window in the door, and my spoon pauses over a square of frozen cookie in vanilla ice cream.
The door opens. It’s Marc.
‘Sophia.’ He comes in and closes the door behind him. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Much better,’ I say, putting the ice cream on the side table. ‘Thanks so much for everything you’ve done for me. But I want to pay for all this -’
Marc holds up a hand. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I want to take care of you.’
‘I don’t want any favouritism,’ I say. ‘Just because we’ve ... things have happened, doesn’t mean I should get any special treatment.’
Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘You think this is special treatment?’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘I’d do this for any of my pupils,’ says Marc, a dangerous look entering his eye. ‘And I’m a little offended you’d think I wouldn’t.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’ I swallow ice cream that has suddenly become a bit too sickly.
‘You look much better,’ says Marc, and I hear the relief in his voice. ‘I was worried about you. When I heard you were in hospital – I’m furious with myself for letting this happen.’
‘You didn’t let anything happen,’ I say. ‘It was an accident.’
‘An accident that could have been avoided.’
‘You believe I didn’t take drugs on purpose, don’t you?’ I say.
Marc nods.
‘I think I know what happened,’ I say tentatively.
Marc holds up his hand. ‘I know too,’ he says. ‘Your
friend Ryan spiked your drink with what he thought was cocaine.’
‘How do you know that?’ I say, my mouth falling open.
‘I spoke with Ryan earlier. He admitted everything. People don’t tend to lie to me.’
‘For the record,’ I say. ‘He’s not my friend.’
‘I guessed that,’ says Marc. ‘But I think he’d like to be. From what he told me, I think he’d like to be more than a friend.’
‘What?’ I shake my head. ‘Not Ryan. He hates me. Him and Cecile both do.’
‘Some people just find it hard to express themselves when they feel something very strongly,’ says Marc. ‘He’s been in love with you from the first moment he saw you.’
‘In love with me? But he’s so ... rude. And mean.’
‘Like I said. Some people have a hard time expressing themselves.’ Marc turns the television off and sits on the bed. My stomach buzzes just to have him so near me. ‘The doctors have given you the all clear, but I think it’s best you stay here overnight. Just in case. You can leave tomorrow morning. Sunday,’ he adds softly. ‘In time for your class on Monday morning.’
I swallow, remembering what he said about punishing me. ‘What’s going to happen on Monday?’
‘You’ll have to wait and see.’
‘Will you punish me for this, too? For ending up in hospital?’
Marc shakes his head. ‘Sophia, this isn’t your fault.’
He gets up and locks the door.
‘What are you doing?’ I say. ‘What if the nurse needs to come in?’
‘She won’t,’ says Marc. ‘I’ve told all the medical staff not to disturb you while I’m visiting.’
‘Won’t the newspapers have something to say about that?’ I ask.
‘One of the joys of a private facility,’ Marc says, ‘is that money buys you confidentiality, and they wouldn’t dream of selling anything to the press here. The only story the press have is that I visited you in the other hospital. And they can make of that what they like – it proves nothing more than I care about my students. Which I do. You need rest. And relax.’
Carefully, he peels the crisp, white sheet from my body and nods in approval when he sees I’m wearing the sweat clothes he bought for me.
‘I want you to get to know your own body better,’ he says, sliding off the sweat pants. I nod stupidly, watching the way his jaw clenches as he runs a hand down my thigh. ‘Do you masturbate?’
‘No,’ I lie. Why can’t I ever answer honestly to that question?
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Don’t lie to me, Sophia. I’m an actor too, remember?’
I blush. ‘Okay. Sometimes I do.’
‘I thought so.’
He slides off my panties and throws them to the floor. I see the shape growing in his trousers. He spreads my legs apart and takes out his iPhone.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask.
‘Taking photographs of my star pupil,’ he says, directing the phone between my legs, and snapping a few shots. The flash lights everything, and I feel more naked than I’ve ever felt in my life. ‘I’ll use them later, for my own amusement.’
‘Oh.’ The idea both terrifies and thrills me. The fact that Marc Blackwell could want pictures of me makes me feel amazing. But on the other hand, having him able to see naked parts of me up close is terrifying.
‘Trust me,’ Marc whispers, running a hand up and down my thigh. ‘I’ll keep them totally safe. Completely protected. You have my word. You do trust me, don’t you?’
‘I think so,’ I say. The way he’s cared for me has been amazing. And there’s something about him that just makes me know that he’s true to his word.
‘I wanted to ask you something,’ I say. ‘About a newspaper article I saw a few days ago.’
Chapter 36
‘Ah ha,’ says Marc. ‘So you’re listening to tabloid gossip now? Don’t believe everything you read, Sophia.’ He looks at his phone, using his finger to flick through pictures. ‘Very nice. Very nice indeed. A model pupil in more ways than one.’
‘Was it you in the pictures?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ says Marc. ‘But let’s just say with newspapers have a way of twisting the truth.’
‘Who was filming?’ I blurt out. ‘You say the pictures you just took are safe, but if someone got hold of a film of you ...’
Marc puts his phone down. ‘She was filming. It was a set up. For money. Okay? I should have known better, but when the scenario presented itself, I ... I couldn’t help myself.’
‘You couldn’t help yourself?’
Marc looks away from me. ‘That didn’t come out right. Of course I could have helped myself. But ... I didn’t that day. It’s not like with you. I was in control. It was all my choice, the whole way through.
‘I’d been playing a very tough role that day. She had a minor role in the movie we were making, and in the bar at the end of the night she told me she’d been a bad girl and wanted me to spank her. So I did. I guess she somehow knew I like to be in charge and set me up. All that happened months ago, before I even met you.’
I feel a sliver of something unpleasant. Jealousy. I don’t like the thought of him with another woman. Good god, Sophia, what have you got yourself into? Don’t fall in love with a movie star who likes to be in charge and spank people. It can only ever end in tears.
‘Touch yourself,’ says Marc, holding up his iPhone.
‘Marc -’
‘That’s an order.’
What is about Marc that makes it impossible to say no? I put my hand between my legs.
‘Hot,’ he nods.
He moves the iPhone closer. ‘Very hot. Put your fingers inside yourself.’
I reach my other hand down and do as he says.
‘You look beautiful,’ he breathes, moving the iPhone around to get the best angle. ‘Keep going. I want to film you come.’
Suddenly, embarrassment takes over. ‘I can’t,’ I say. ‘I’ll feel stupid with you filming.’
‘Count this as another lessons,’ says Marc. ‘Getting comfortable with your body being on show. The more comfortable you are, the more sexual enjoyment you’ll get. And the better actress you’ll be.’
I begin moving my hands again, and he slides his fingers up my thigh. Then he pushes my top up, still filming with his free hand, and runs fingers over my bra. Goosebumps stand out on my arms, and he smiles. Then his fingers reach my neck and chin, and he forces a thumb into my mouth.
‘Suck it,’ he says, filming my face. I’m still moving my hands, and having his thumb going in and out of my mouth feels strangely sexy.
The good feelings are building up, and the more he rams his thumb into my mouth, the better I feel.
‘Mmm,’ I mumble.
He films back down between my legs, and I notice a large swelling in his trousers.
This is really turning him on.
I can’t help myself. Warmth travels up from between my legs, up my navel and down my thighs, and I shout his name.
‘Marc, oh Marc.’
He films the whole thing, and I don’t care. It feels too good. It’s only when the wave of pleasure has passed that I come to my senses, and realise there’s now film footage of me having an orgasm.
‘I feel embarrassed you have that film footage of me,’ I tell Marc, sinking back into the bed. ‘I can’t stand the thought of you watching it. I feel so silly.’
‘Which is exactly why I’m keeping it,’ says Marc. ‘I’ll watch you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Trust me, Sophia. It will help you let go of your inhabitations.’
‘I don’t think I’m all that inhibited.’
Marc laughs. ‘You’re joking? You’re inhibited, trust me.’
‘I still don’t like the idea of you having a film of me,’ I mutter.
‘Hey.’ He comes and puts his face by mine, and strokes my cheek. ‘You trust me, right? I’ll take good care of this, Sophia. And if you really don’t want me to have it, I’ll delete it. Bu
t right now, as your teacher I think it’s a good lesson for you. Now. Give me your phone number.’
‘Why?’ I ask.
‘After today’s little escapade, I want to make sure I can always get in touch with you.’
I don’t like that reply, but I do like the idea of him having my number, so I read off the digits. He enters then into his phone, and I feel a swell of excitement at the thought of him calling me.
He lays the sheet over me. ‘Monday,’ he says. And with that he unlocks the door and leaves.
Chapter 37
I leave the hospital on Sunday morning feeling great. For breakfast, I have a delicious hospital breakfast of strawberry smoothie, toasted pumpkin seed porridge and freshly baked rye bread with unsalted butter.
Trinity asks me if I need a taxi to get me back to the campus, but I tell her I’d rather walk and explore London. She gives me a fold up map, and I set off into the sunshine.
I soon find myself walking through Sloane Square, past designer clothes shops and red-brick apartments. There are all sorts of delicious-looking cafes and restaurants dotted around, and I stop for a hot chocolate at an Italian deli, taking a table on the street so I can watch London life go by.
I take out my phone and see five missed calls from Jen. I call her back, and am rewarded with her screeching down the phone:
‘Sopheeee!’
‘I think you just deafened me.’
‘Where are you?’ Jen asks. ‘I’m on your campus. I came down for a surprise visit, but you’re not here. Are you being a dirty stop out?’
You have no idea.
‘I’m just in West London,’ I say. ‘Near Sloane Square. At somewhere called Gerades.’
‘Will they mind me parking at your college if you’re not there?’ Jen asks.
‘I doubt it,’ I say.
‘Then stay where you are – I’m coming to meet you.’ The line goes dead.
Half hour later, I’m about to order another hot chocolate when Jen comes bounding up to the table. She throws her arms around me, and I hug her back.
‘She’ll have a cappuccino,’ I tell the waiter, ‘no chocolate on top.’
