Willing Victim

by Carla Blake

  It wasn’t easy relinquishing hold of the warm, soapy bubbles from her body, but with the sound of Rachel busy downstairs laying the table, Polly reluctantly climbed out of the bath and wrapped herself in a bathrobe, deciding against dressing properly as she didn’t have anywhere particular to be tonight. Standing in front of the full length mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door, she opened her robe and studied her body for wrinkles.

  Still got it, she thought, gently cupping her breasts and then letting them fall, pleased when they didn’t sag too far. Her stomach was still flat too and the ends of her long, dark hair curled seductively around the curve of her shoulders. It was just a shame she no longer had anyone to be seductive with, ever since Michael, her boyfriend of nine months, had been lured away by new horizons and the chance to study botany in Australia.

  He’d broken her heart as well, the git, and she’d wept bitterly for days. Destroyed by the knowledge that the love of her life had preferred a bunch of dried up, old leaves to her smooth, seductive body and only crawling out of her bed once Rachel had administered numerous cups of tea, shed loads of tissues and filled the room with enough flowers to open her own florist. Only then had she rallied a bit, but not by much and she’d almost died on the spot when Rachel had dared to suggest she went out. What was Rachel thinking? Going out?! She wasn’t ready! Everyone would be looking at her, laughing! She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it!

  But Rachel had been adamant and all but dragging Polly out of the house, still crying on occasion, she’d got her out of her bedroom and into the big, wide world again. Forcing her into pubs and to the pictures. Making sure she didn’t choke on the expensive dinner she had known she wouldn’t eat but had paid for anyway. Encouraging her to talk. To live again, to attend the New Year’s party where Polly had got totally plastered and ended up crawling into Rachel’s bed at three o’clock in the morning.

  God, how she regretted that now. And how she wished she could forget it. But there it was, probably for all eternity, laser printed on her mind. The squeak of Rachel’s bedsprings as she’d climbed in and then the feel of Rachel’s warm back against her breasts. Rachel’s gasp of surprise as she awoke, followed by her sigh of pleasure when she had turned Rachel over and clung to her and Rachel had thought she had wanted her. And she had, in a way. Just not the way Rachel had thought. But by then it was too late. They were kissing. Touching. Rachel’s hands on her breasts. Her thumb stroking her nipples, producing a shiver of totally unexpected excitement that had spread down her stomach and on into her groin. The heat. The desire. The need for comfort, for something, that had made her reach out for Rachel’s hand and thrust it between her legs, ignoring Rachel’s soft question of was she sure for a resounding yes. Then the feel of a single finger. Inside the folds of her pussy. Stroking her. Loving her, then sliding deep inside her and filling her with gasping moans of pleasure as it gently glided in and out and stoked the fires. Her gasp and the finger cruelly leaving her, but only so it could slide along her swollen pussy and find her clit. Then it had rubbed torturously slowly. Shoving her towards bliss. Bringing her off. Making her come. Making her come so damned hard! Her orgasm sharp and shuddering, whist Rachel had continued to stroke her throbbing pussy and squeeze every last ounce of come out of her. Then she’d collapsed in a heap. Her head spinning. Her legs like jelly. Her head giving into the sweeping wall of exhaustion and rolling over. Sleep already claiming her as she’d felt Rachel kiss her forehead and then lay back down to bring herself off in the bed beside her.

  Dawn duly arrived.

  And with it the excruciatingly hell of embarrassment. Her slow walk down the stairs not nearly slow enough. The sound of the post rattling through the letter box making her leap out of her skin and worry if her heart was actually capable of beating that fast without exploding? And then Rachel, already sitting at the breakfast table. Disheveled and anxious. The coffee and toast in front of her untouched.

  She’d sat down. Waiting for Rachel to say something first because she’d had absolutely no idea what to say herself. Pouring coffee and leaving it. Her fingers tracing circles on the tablecloth whilst she’d waited, cleared her throat and waited some more. Hoping Rachel would break the silence and save the day, and relieved beyond measure when finally she did.

  A mistake, Rachel had said, blowing imaginary steam from already cold coffee. That’s all it had been. A mistake. They’d been drunk. Too drunk to know what they were doing. She was sorry. ( She was sorry, Polly thought. It hadn’t been her fault!) But they mustn’t allow it to happen again. ( Relief. Some of the responsibility shared). They had too much going for them as friends to chuck it all away on one, drunken fumble. ( Drunken fumble? Rachel had made her come like a train!) So they should just forget about it. Go shopping or something. Do something ordinary.

  Yes, Polly had agreed, relieved again that Rachel wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. They should go shopping. Or maybe the pictures. The cinema would be good. It might even take her mind off that the fact that despite everything, Rachel had made her come. And she had enjoyed it.

  In the bathroom, Polly wrapped the bathrobe around her chilled body and shivered at the memory. Christ, even now it was still strong enough to make her tingle even though she had absolutely no intention of ever repeating it, because in the cold light of day and after several cups of coffee, sleeping with another woman really wasn’t what she wanted. She liked muscles. Testosterone. And she liked having Rachel as a friend. The thought of having a proper relationship with her, with sex and all the hang ups that would inevitably bring with it, left her cold. It would ruin everything.

  Being friends was far better. Friends were safe.

  Friends yelled at you when you were tardy for dinner, just like Rachel was doing now. Her voice nagging at her from the bottom of the stairs as she shouted at her to get out of the ‘bloody bath!’ and warned her that if she wasn’t downstairs in five seconds flat, she was going to come up there with a bucket of ice!

  It made her smile and standing to attention, Polly saluted, calling back that she was ‘on her way. Two seconds tops.’

  “So.” Polly asked, spearing a piece of steak and carrying it to her mouth. “When are you going to tell Simon?”

  Rachel shrugged. “God knows.” She said, looking downcast. “If I had my way I wouldn’t be speaking to him at all.”

  “I bet.”

  “But I guess it’ll have to be after the weekend now. I’ve arranged to see Kate tomorrow night.”

  Polly raised her eyebrows. “Have you now?” She said. “That’s brave. You usually see his Lordship on Friday’s don’t you?”

  “Hmm.”

  “So where you planning on going? Not somewhere he’s likely to be I hope.”

  “Nope. Kate’s invited me over to her place for dinner and for the night. So don’t wait up.”

  Polly’s eyebrows shot up for a second time. “Blimey, she doesn’t waste time does she? But are you really sure you want this, Rach? You’ve only known her five minutes. What if she turns out to be a nut case or something?”

  Rachel smiled. “You’re obsessed with my girlfriend being mad, do you know that? I thought Simon was supposed to be the neurotic one?”

  “He is! There’s no ‘supposed’ about it. He’s bloody certifiable! And I only say these things because I care! I mean, what do you really know about this Kate? Other than the fact that she makes you ‘tingle’? You’ve only just met her, yet here you are telling me you’re going to spend the night! How do I know you’re going to be safe? I don’t even know where she lives? And does anyone live with her? What if you get in trouble?”

  “You.” Rachel said, spearing a forkful of carrot, “ sound just like mother. But for your information, she lives in Manor tree.”

  “Oow, posh.”

  “In a terraced house just like ours, except she lives on her own.”

  “
Does she? How does she afford that?”

  “Her parents brought it for her.”

  “So she’s rich! Well, I guess that’s at least one point in her favour.”

  “You think? Doubt if she would see it that way. Her parents died in a car accident four years ago. It was their life insurance that paid for the house.”

  “ Oh, I see. Sorry. That can’t have been easy for her. So when do I get to meet her?”

  “ Why? So you can make sure she’s not going to bump me off for my insurance?”

  “No.” Polly said carefully. “And that was a little below the belt sweetie, especially when all I’m trying to do is look out for you. I just like to meet her that’s all. I care about you, Rachel, and I don’t want to see you get hurt again. I am also naturally nosy and if I have to start sharing you with some other woman then I want to know what she’s like.”

  “Ah, so now we get to it.” Rachel declared. “It’s just plain jealousy.”

  “No. It’s just plain concern.”

  “Right. Well, in that case I suppose I could arrange a meeting. But no sarky comments okay? And no telling her about that time I fell into the pond at the park.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’d forgotten about that.”

  “And no constant talk about bloody gardening.”

  “Okay. Okay, I get the hint. I won’t say a single word about begonias. How does tomorrow lunch sound? I’ve got half day at work. I could meet you both at the coffee shop.”

  Rachel wished she hadn’t bothered. Seated inside the warm, fragrant interior of the coffee shop, surrounded by chattering women, office workers and a toddler currently painting his face with chocolate ice cream, she’d never felt more like a fifth wheel in her life.

  All that remained on her plate were crumbs. The detritus of a tuna mayonnaise baguette she’d eaten over half an hour ago, along with packet of crisp and a mug of tea, whilst the BLT and egg mayonnaise Polly and Kate had opted for remained untouched, the pair of them too busy nattering about weeding and the best time to plant early potatoes to give a damn about cramming food down their throats.

  And to think she had worried they wouldn’t get on!

  But that was before Polly had discovered Kate had a garden and absolutely no idea what to do with it, and then they’d been off, chattering away whilst Rachel resignedly nibbled at her lunch and prepared to spend the next hour listening to the pair of them discuss flower beds and vegetables patches and what to do with left over strawberries.

  Still, at least they weren’t arguing, which could only be good, and excusing herself from the table, Rachel wandered outside, leant against a lamp post and dialed Simon on her mobile.

  Simon was at work, a condition she had been counting on. He could be a cruel bastard at times, especially when they were on their own and there was no one around to hear his vicious attacks, but at work and surrounded by his colleagues, it was much more likely he would want to come across as the charming and loving boyfriend, rather than the spiteful and rude bastard he really was.

  He answered on the third ring and as expected substituted his usual greeting of ‘ What do you want Rachel?’ for the milder and altogether more pleasant, ‘ Rachel, honey. How are you? Nothing wrong I hope?’

  Rachel quietly tutted. Like he gave a toss!

  “Actually, there is.” She said. “I’m afraid I can’t make it tonight.” With anyone else she would have added an apology here, but with Simon it was pointless, he wouldn’t hear it anyway. “ Thought I’d just let you know.”

  “And why’s that?” Simon asked, the sound of his chair being scrapped back signifying that he was on his feet and already looking for somewhere private he could rail at her. “Are you unwell?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you. I’m just doing something else.”

  “Oh, right. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Rachel heard a door close, then Simon came back on the line. “Right!” He said, the charm gone from his tone. “So what are you really doing, you little bitch?”

  He’d found somewhere private then.

  Rachel kept her cool. “Like I said. Something else.”

  “Yeah?” Simon shouted. “Like what? You can’t just cancel on me, just because you’ve changed your mind. We had an arrangement! What are you doing?”

  “I’m going out with a mate if you must know.” Rachel said, crossing her fingers and already visualizing the spot she would get on her tongue for lying. “To the theatre.”

  “I don’t give a shit.” Simon seethed. “Cancel it! I see you Friday night, not some ‘mate’. Cancel it or I’ll come over there and cancel it for you. Bloody bitch.”

  Rachel closed her eyes. It was always going to be like this with Simon. He was like a spoilt child. Everything always having to go his way or else he’d bully and threaten until she either gave in or dissolved into tears and ran home. It was never going to change. It was always going to be Simon’s way or no way and she was sick of it. Especially after the thing with the car.

  “You know.” She said at last. “There is an easy way round all this, Simon. If you really have such a problem with me seeing my mates and not you, then why don’t I just dump you? There, problem solved. You don’t have to worry about not seeing me and I can do what I like. That alright with you?”

  “No, it isn’t!” Simon sneered. “I decide when we split up, not you! And I say you stay! Or have you found someone else? Is that it, you cheap, little whore? Found some other slimy bastard to screw?”

  Rachel smiled. “Do you realise you’ve just compared yourself to a slimy bastard?’ She said and hung up, going back inside to join Polly and Kate.

  Four

  “Your skin is so soft.”

  Three hours after Rachel had arrived at Kate’s house, nervous, shaking and worried the pink, plaid shirt she had slipped on over jeans wouldn’t be sexy enough to turn Kate on, Rachel was now in bed with her.

  It had been a wonderful evening. Kate had grabbed her the moment she’d stepped over the threshold, and kissing her softly, had slipped an arm around her waist and led her through to the lounge, where an open fire and scented tea lights softly lit the room together with the bottle of wine and two glasses sitting on the coffee table.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” Kate had shrugged apologetically. “But I’ve ordered takeaway pizza to go with that. I would have cooked, but I was so scared of screwing up, I chickened out at the last minute and reached for the yellow pages. Is that okay?”

  “Course it is.” Rachel replied, taking up Kate’s invitation to sit on the sofa whilst Kate disappeared into the kitchen for a corkscrew. “Pizza’s fine. But why were you so scared of cooking? It’s only me for Heaven’s sake, not Gordon Ramsey, and since when have you ever been worried about anything? You always give the impression you don’t give a toss.”

  “Really?” Kate asked, returning with a bottle of white in case Rachel preferred that to red. “I really give that impression? God, that’s so far from the truth it’s almost funny. I worry about everything! You should have seen me before you got here. Dusting, hovering, wondering if you’d like the bloody pictures on the wall. I even showered twice and I was still ready two hours ago.”

  “So what have you been doing since then, dare I ask?”

  “Truthfully? Biting my nails.”

  “Yeah, like I believe that.” Rachel smiled. “Less than a week ago you were practically raping me in the filing room, now you expect me to believe you were worrying over dinner! I don’t think so. It took guts of flamin’ steel to do what you did Kate Adams, and to be honest, I still don’t have a clue how you had the bloody nerve.”

  “Neither do I.” Kate laughed. “But it worked though didn’t it? You’re here.”

  The pizza, when it arrived, was ferociously hot and quickly carrying it through to the lounge, Kate transferred it onto plates, blew on her fingers
and then slid one towards Rachel, asking her, as they ate, about her family and friends and the variety of jobs she had endured before finally ending up at the power company.

  “.. I wish though,” Rachel said, pausing half way through her sentence to wipe her lips with a napkin, “ that I hadn’t done media at University. So many people ended up on the same course, that by the time I got my degree it was next to useless. All the best jobs were taken and those that were still available were asking for qualifications so far beyond what I had, I simply couldn’t compete.”

  “I know what you mean.” Kate sympathized. “The same thing sort of happened to me, although not because of Uni or any of that stuff. It was more the reverse. All the jobs I interviewed for had already been filled by kids who had gone to University and they just laughed at my handful of paltry A levels. Really makes you feel good that does.”

  “Yeah. You’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t.” Rachel added. “ What did you end up doing then? Not the dreaded supermarket stacking?”

  “No, thank God.” Kate said. “I went to France. To Roquefort actually and the cheese factory there. And before you say anything, no, I cannot speak fluent French. I can’t even pretend. Fortunately, though, the people I worked with all spoke perfect English, so I didn’t even have to try which I was bloody grateful for because I’m bloody useless at languages. English and gibberish are about as much as I can manage.”

  “And swearing.” Rachel laughed. “A cheese factory though! What possessed you? You must have stunk to high Heaven!”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe! The smell of cheese sticks to you like glue. Mice followed me home once. But I did get all the free cheese I wanted.”

  “And let me guess. You haven’t touched the stuff since.”

  Kate looked at her. “No.” She said. “I haven’t. How did you know?”

  “Because.” Rachel pointed out. “There isn’t any on this pizza.”

  By ten they were in bed.