by J Lerman
‘Thank you,’ I say, smiling through tears. ‘Thank you so much.’
Chapter 44
When I leave Denise’s classroom, I feel happier. Lighter. But I’m also thinking very hard about what she said, particularly the part about keeping secrets.
As I leave the classroom building and head outside, into the grounds, I find Tom and Tanya waiting for me.
‘Are you okay, Soph?’ Tom asks. ‘We were worried you were in trouble with teacher.’ His wheelchair is balanced half on the path, half on the grassy verge, so I move him in case he tips over.
‘No, it was fine,’ I say. ‘Honestly.’
‘Jolly good. Well then. Are you all set for the theatre trip tomorrow?’
‘The what?’ I ask.
‘To the Globe. College outing.’
‘Really? A class trip so soon?’
‘It was in our introductory paperwork,’ says Tom, pulling a diary from his rucksack and thumbing through. ‘Let me just double check. Ah! No, not tomorrow. The day after. In the afternoon. We’re meeting on campus, and being driven there in the college mini bus.’
‘I’ve always wanted to see the Globe,’ I say. ‘That sounds great.’ But in the meantime, I have dinner with Marc Blackwell to contend with.
‘So what did you and Denise talk about?’ Tanya asks.
I look from Tanya to Tom. They’re both such good people. I hate lying to them. I think of what Denise said about keeping things secret and about not wanting that for myself. I sigh.
‘She wanted to talk to me about Mr Blackwell.’
‘What about him?’ asks Tom, talking a bag of Wotsits from his rucksack and ripping them open. ‘Cheesey crisp?’
‘No thank you,’ I say. ‘Mr Blackwell and I ... look, promise you won’t tell anyone this, okay?’
Tom and Tanya nod solemnly.
‘Mr Blackwell and I are ... more than just teacher and pupil right now.’
‘Shut UP,’ says Tanya, slapping Tom’s arm.
‘Keep your voice down, Tanya, before the whole bloody campus hears,’ Tom whispers.
‘Sorry.’ Tanya’s hand flies to her mouth. ‘Sophia, you have my word. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.’
‘Nor will I,’ says Tom. ‘But you have to promise to tell us what he’s like in bed, Mr Hollywood hot shot. Does that white skin go all the way to the down?’
I laugh. ‘Honestly, I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’ says Tom. ‘What kind of sex have you been having?’
‘That’s just it,’ I admit. ‘Weird kind of sex. Super hot, but weird sex. He takes charge of everything. He wants to be the teacher inside the bedroom and out. So I haven’t really got to touch him or do anything without his say so.’
‘That is so hot,’ says Tanya.
‘It is,’ I say. ‘I’ve never known anything like this before. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. But ... part of me thinks I should run away. It doesn’t feel healthy. The whole forbidden thing for a start. We can’t tell anyone what’s happening, and I’m sneaking around.
‘And then the sex part ... it’s super hot, but it’s not like a relationship. He’s got to be in charge. But when I think about walking away from him, it hurts. Really hurts. I feel like there’s more I need to discover. But then again, I know if I stick around I’ll probably get hurt even worse.’
‘Ditch him,’ says Tanya, grabbing a handful of Tom’s crisps. ‘No man should be in control of you.’
‘But the way I feel about him ...’
‘They’ll be other men,’ says Tanya.
‘Not like him,’ I say. ‘I’ve never met anyone like him before.’ I feel so empty at the thought of walking away, I just can’t bear it. But I know Tanya is probably right. I should end it. But I can’t.
‘I don’t think I can walk away,’ I whisper. ‘I want more. And until I have it, I’ll always be wondering.’
‘That’s what men like that do,’ says Tanya. ‘He’ll always leave you wanting more. Always. Walk away before it gets even harder.’
I nod, but Tom touches my arm lightly.
‘Soph, love. Do you want the wheelchair guy’s opinion?’
‘Yes please,’ I say.
‘Do you know how many girlfriends I’ve had?’ Tom asks.
I shake my head.
‘None,’ he says. ‘I talk to girls online, and I watch porn and I visit disabled websites and have virtual relationships, but I’ve never had a real relationship. Not ever. And do you know what? I probably never will have.’
‘Oh Tom,’ I say. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s so tactless of -’
‘No, no, no.’ Tom waves my comment away. ‘Don’t give me the sympathy card. That’s not what I’m asked for. What I’m saying is, I’d give anything in the world to be in your position. To be on the edge of love or lust or whatever it is you’re feeling, and dive right in, no matter how hard I fall and how much it hurts. To have the opportunity to get my fingers burned. That’s what I’d give anything for. Getting your fingers burned is part of what life is all about. So take every opportunity. Because one day, you’ll be old and dried up and you’ll never have the chance again.’
‘Thanks a lot,’ I say, playfully slapping his leg.
‘Ow!’ He mock winces. ‘The nerve endings still work, you know. Anyway, that’s my two-pennyworth. Throw yourself in at the deep end. I’m sure you won’t actually drown. And even if it all goes horribly wrong, you’ll come out stronger. Just whatever you do, don’t get pregnant.’
I smile, and for the first time in days I feel my teeth showing when I do. I give him a big hug, squashing his Wotsits against his chest and knocking his hat to the floor.
‘I guess that’s the advice she was looking for,’ says Tanya with a smile, picking up his hat.
Chapter 45
Dinner with Marc Blackwell. Dinner with Marc Blackwell. I pace back and forth in front of my huge, walk-in wardrobe, feeling for the first time since my shopping trip that I don’t have a thing to wear.
I’ve pulled out dress after dress and laid it on my bed. Thank goodness I went shopping with Jen when I got my scholarship. She forced me to buy going-out clothes that at the time I thought I was never going to wear. And giving me her mum’s advice: buy it and the occasion will come. Well, the occasion has come. And now nothing seems good enough.
I analyse every outfit, from the messages it sends out (Confident? Desperate? Prudish?), to how flattering it is, what shoes go with it ... I’m driving myself mad.
I get Jen on Skype and hold up all the different outfits. She laughs when I hold the camera to the wardrobe, and she catches a glimpse of how messy my bedroom is.
‘It looks like you’ve emptied your whole wardrobe onto the floor,’ she says.
‘It’s not funny,’ I say, although I can’t help but smile. ‘Help me, please.’
‘Maybe this is too big a job for either of us,’ says Jen. ‘I mean, Marc Blackwell, Sophia. This is all a bit crazy, don’t you think? I’ve thought about it, and ... I don’t know. He just seems so moody, and to make the moves on one of his pupils ...’
‘He’s only a few years older than me,’ I point out.
‘But still ... okay. Look, usually I’d try and talk you out of something like this. You know what a push over you are.’
We both laugh. It’s true. I like to call it passive, but Jen can call me whatever she likes. I know what she means. Easy going. I don’t like arguments.
‘Anyway,’ Jen continues, ‘I can tell just by the way you’re talking that you’ve got it bad. And I can’t say I blame you. So. I’m going to help you be sexy and confident and in control.’
‘Fat chance with Marc around,’ I say.
‘Well, let’s try,’ says Jen. ‘That red dress, hold it up.’
‘This one?’ I hold up a thigh-length red dress. Half the side has silk flowing down it like a waterfall, and there’s a red silk rose at the bust. It’s extremely fitted, in an expensive, crumpled sort of way
, and strapless. ‘It’s a bit too red carpet, don’t you think?’
‘Exactly,’ says Jen. ‘Confident. Sexy. He won’t know what hit him. But tone it down a bit with the shoes. Those boots are perfect. And wear some sort of big necklace so you don’t look naked around the shoulders. That silver coin one.’
‘Okay,’ I say, picking up a necklace from the wardrobe shelf. I put everything on and look in the mirror.
‘Wow,’ says Jen, when I stand in front of the camera. ‘If he won’t make you his girlfriend, then I will.’
I laugh. ‘Spoken like a true friend.’
‘Where is his house, anyway?’ Jen asks.
‘I have no idea,’ I say.
‘So how are you getting there?’
‘I have no idea about that either,’ I say. ‘Marc texted me earlier. He told me to walk to the campus’s car park entrance and wait there.’
‘What a gentleman,’ says Jen. ‘He’d better take care of you, or he’ll have me to answer to. Keep your phone on, okay? As long as it’s on, I can track where you are.’
‘Oh Jen,’ I say, crumpling onto the bed. ‘What have I got myself into?’
Chapter 46
In the end, I choose the clothes I feel most comfortable in – grey jeans, an oversized black sweater and silver jewellery. I put two glittering bird studs in my ears and hang a rose quartz on a silver chain around my neck.
It’s cold outside the campus car park gates, as I watch cars zooming past. I’m early as usual, and shiver in my sweater. I wish I’d brought a coat along, but when Jen and I went shopping they didn’t have the winter ranges in yet, and I don’t want to wear my old rain coat.
Like the main entrance gates, the car park gates are wrought iron, gothic and beautiful. If I wasn’t so nervous I’d be captivated by them. But I am nervous.
I check my watch again.
On the road I see a long, black limousine. Its indicator comes on as it approaches the college, and it begins to slow down.
Is that for me?
I watch in amazement as the limousine comes to a stop outside the college gates.
The back window rolls down, and Marc’s face appears.
‘Sophia.’ He opens the car door. ‘Get in.’
I duck my head and climb into the limo, closing the door behind me.
Marc sits on a leather couch inside, his legs crossed, watching me.
I take a seat on the leather couch opposite him, putting my hands on my knees. I notice a drinks cabinet, lit with yellow lights, and a flat screen TV. It’s dark in the car and smells like leather.
Marc’s hands move to the drinks cabinet. He clicks open a can of tonic, then pours it into a glass with ice and lemon.
‘Here,’ he says, passing the drink to me. ‘It’s too early for champagne.’
I look at the drink fizzing away, and think: is it? ‘I think I can manage some gin in this,’ I say, and to my surprise, Marc finds a bottle of Gordons in the cabinet and pours a small measure into my glass. I take a large gulp of gin and tonic.
‘Aren’t you drinking?’ I ask.
‘In a moment.’
The car pulls out, and I see the college become smaller through the tinted windows.
‘So. How did you like singing class?’ Marc asks.
‘I liked it very much,’ I say. ‘I liked Denise. She spoke with me. About you.’
‘Really?’ Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘Nothing gets past her, as far as I’m concerned.’ He looks out the window.
‘She told me lots of things I didn’t know about you,’ I say. ‘About how you grew up.’
Marc nods. ‘It wasn’t the best of upbringings. If it wasn’t for Denise, I could have gone in a very different direction. One of the reasons I love London so much is because she’s here. My only family. That’s what she means to me.’
The car drives west along Oxford Street, and I see crowds of shoppers trying to peer into the car when we stop at the traffic lights.
‘Can they see us?’ I ask.
Marc shakes his head. ‘They can’t see a thing. The windows have been specially designed. So Miss Rose.’ He leans closer. ‘It seems I’m not the only teacher you’ve been pleasing. Should I be jealous?’
‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘Denise is much more open than you’ve been.’
‘Open doesn’t come naturally to me,’ says Marc. ‘But maybe that’s something I’ll learn from you.’
He takes the rose quartz that’s around my neck in his fingers. ‘I like this. It brings out the colours in your eyes.’
‘It’s a rose quartz,’ I say. ‘The stone of love. I keep it close to me when I want to feel safe and protected.’
‘And you don’t feel safe and protected around me?’
‘I don’t know.’
Marc takes my hands. ‘You should.’
I like the way his hands feel on mine.
‘Now.’ Marc sets my hands down in my lap. ‘Being in this car is a good opportunity to learn something about inhibitions and trust, don’t you think?’
‘Is it?’ I swallow nervously. ‘Why?’
Marc nods. ‘All these people, peering into the limo windows. It feels like they can see us, doesn’t it?’
I nod. ‘But you’re sure they can’t?’
‘Sophia. Do you think I’d own a limo that people could see in to? And take you across London in it? When you’re with me you’ll be safe, and that means your reputation too. No one will know you’re spending extra time after class with your teacher. Not unless you want them to.’
‘Right now, I don’t want them to,’ I say. ‘I want you to stay at the university. I don’t want the other pupils to miss out on your teaching.’
‘Just so you know,’ says Marc. ‘If it starts to bother you, doing things in this clandestine fashion, then I’ll stop teaching any time you ask me to.’
I open and close my mouth. I know he means it. I feel a glimmer of hope in my chest that one day, some how, some way, we might stand a chance of having some sort of normal relationship. Maybe.
‘Take your clothes off,’ says Marc, suddenly.
‘In the car?’ My hands fly to my chest. ‘Are you being serious?’
‘Deadly serious. I gave you an instruction. Take your clothes off.’
‘You really are being serious, aren’t you?’ I say. ‘You want me to take my clothes off right here, in the back of this car?’
‘All of your clothes. Right here, right now.’
‘But I feel like people can see me.’
‘That’s exactly right,’ says Marc. ‘And that’s what I mean by teaching you to lose your inhibitions. I take your tuition very seriously. Now do as you’re told before I tie you up and cane you again.’
Just him saying those words makes me feel hot, and I’m not sure I like it. I always thought of myself as a normal sort of girl with normal sorts of needs. But being with Marc has opened up a whole new world of feelings that I’m not sure I’m totally comfortable with.
‘Now,’ says Marc.
Chapter 47
I slide my arms out of my sweater, taking my time, hoping he might change his mind.
‘Faster, Sophia. I mean it. If you don’t hurry up, I’ve got a slipper waiting for you at my town house.’
I wriggle out of the jumper, and take off my shoes and socks. Then slowly, I slide down my jeans and take off my vest.
I see the faces of shoppers and tourists lining Oxford Street as we judder slowly in tight traffic, and for a moment I want to fling my clothes back on again. But I trust Marc when he tells me they can’t see.
‘Your underwear too,’ he says, resting back on the couch and pouring himself a whisky and soda from the drinks cabinet. The glass is cut crystal and shines under the yellow lights.
I unclip my bra, and slide off my panties. I do it quickly, like jumping into a cold swimming pool. I think the quicker I do it, the less painful it will be. But as I sit here, completely naked with cool leather under me, I feel more exposed than ever be
fore.
The limo stops at another traffic light and more faces peer into the car. Teenage boys, tourists, couples – it feels like people from all walks of life are looking at me with no clothes on.
‘I feel like they can all see me,’ I whisper, my arms wrapping themselves around my ribs.
‘Maybe they can,’ says Marc, setting his drink down. ‘Do you trust me, Sophia? When I say they can’t see you, do you trust what I’m saying?’
I nod. ‘I do. But it just feels like ... it feels like they can.’
‘When a director asks you to do something, it may go against all your instincts,’ Marc says. ‘But you have to trust what they’re saying. More importantly, this is a little lesson in showing yourself in front of lots of people. This is what you’re going to have to do, Sophia, if you want to make it as an actress.’
‘Not all actresses take their clothes off.’
‘It’s not about nudity,’ says Marc. ‘It’s about baring your soul. Showing everything in here.’ He puts a fist to his chest. ‘A good actor is always perfectly in control, but totally exposed. That’s what makes it such a difficult profession. To show your soul to millions of people, but without losing yourself in the process.’
I watch the passersby, and with every minute that passes, my nakedness seems less.
‘Now,’ says Marc. ‘Turn around and face the window.’
I turn around, knowing my rear end is now facing him. I look out of the window, watching shops go slowly past. The traffic has showed no signs of easing off and we’re stopping and starting, stopping and starting.
‘I want you to press your breasts against the window,’ says Marc.
‘What?’
‘Do as you’re told, Sophia.’
‘But everyone will see -’
‘No one can see a thing. It just feels that way.’
Reluctantly, I lean forwards and press my chest against the cold glass. It’s freezing, and goosebumps instantly cover my breasts and arms.
I feel Marc part my legs, and see a condom packet fall onto the couch.
The next moment he’s inside of me, and I moan as I feel his fullness.
