by Vina Jackson
‘I don’t think I can manage another drink,’ he said feebly.
‘Spoilsport,’ Liana muttered while I just smiled.
‘I think I have to go back to the flat,’ Neil said, rising hesitantly from his seat, steadying himself with a hand on the table where our empty glasses lay like a deserted landscape after a battle.
Liana now ignored him and looked around.
‘Where are the other two?’ she asked. ‘What’s their names? Wally and Dasha?’ She’d only just noticed that the science students who’d tagged along with us earlier had now left our midst, and we were the only three left standing. And three was becoming two as Neil prepared to throw in the towel.
‘Finally. Just you and me, honey.’ Liana winked at me as Neil’s silhouette retreated through the door that led onto Gardner Street. ‘We’re still in good shape and the night is still young, my darling Lily.’
‘Actually, I don’t think I can manage a whole night out, even if we could afford it,’ I said, watching Liana rummaging through her bag again. The day’s activities and the glass of lager that I’d been sipping had begun to take their toll.
A beam lit her face as she extracted two fifty-pound notes.
‘I knew it was there. I was sure. My rainy-day money!’
She handed one of the notes to me. ‘Pay me back whenever,’ she said. ‘It’s not really my money and, besides, I’m sure I owe you for last time.’
‘Fifties!’ I exclaimed. ‘Since when do you have that sort of cash?’
‘Dad sent it to me mid-term. He’s obviously feeling guilty about something.’
‘Well, don’t brandish it around like that.’
‘We should put it to a good cause. If not boozing, then at least something worthwhile. What do you think?’
‘Haven’t got a clue,’ I answered. ‘Pity Neil left. I’m sure he’d come up with some idea.’
‘Oh, yes, I’m sure he would,’ Liana said, smiling at me broadly.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked her.
‘Don’t act innocent … Like you hadn’t noticed the way he stares at you all the time?’
I had. But I hadn’t given it much thought until now. Neil was nice, decent-looking but … unexciting.
‘He’s just not my type.’
‘What is your type? Come on,’ Liana quizzed me. ‘You’ll be single all your life at this rate.’
All those now-distant faces from the bedroom posters came rushing back to me. Men with dark make-up, men in black leather and metal studs, wild men. I had left the heavy-metal posters back home and would have attracted ridicule at the flat had I decorated my room here with them all. I opted for discretion. Noting my closed expression, Lily didn’t pursue the subject.
‘Damn,’ she said, brushing her hair back from her forehead. ‘It’s hot in here. Even I’m falling asleep. Wanna go for a walk? We’re bound to stumble across something to do sooner or later.’
‘Suits me,’ I agreed.
Night was falling and there was a nip in the air. Most of the jewellery and antique shops in the Lanes were beginning to close and the crowds were thinning.
We were walking aimlessly along, the stark realisation that there was still a whole evening and night ahead dawning on us and we still had nothing to do when we slowed down across from the tattoo parlour.
‘Hey!’ I said.
‘What?’
‘Remember how we used to talk about getting matching tattoos?’
It had been shortly after we’d met, and we’d been much drunker than today on that occasion, almost a year ago now, and still high on the exhilaration of being away from home and family and the knowledge we’d found we had so much in common. I only vaguely remembered the conversation but, all of a sudden, the idea appealed to me immensely. There was a touch of the perverse about it; it was just the sort of thing good girls would never do in a month of Sundays.
‘Perfect. Let’s do it,’ Liana said. ‘Do you think we’ve got enough?’ She indicated the crumpled note she had stuck into her skirt pocket.
I had no idea what a tattoo cost.
‘Well, they’ll only be small,’ I shrugged, and stepped towards the shop door.
‘Oh, Lily, this is going to be so exciting,’ Liana giggled.
And now, we’d actually done it.
‘So, ladies, what are you two up to next?’
‘Another celebratory drink, I suppose?’ Liana replied, in good spirits although I knew her ankle must still be burning if the aching on the left side of my face was anything to go by.
‘I hate to be the voice of reason,’ Nick said, leaning forward and brushing a lock of hair back from Liana’s face as though he’d known her for ages. I was beginning to feel like the odd one out, the third wheel all over again, and was tempted to leave the two of them to it and go home to nurse both my jealousy and my new tattoo alone. I worried about Liana though, and what sort of fix she might get herself into next, so I knew that I would be stuck with Nick for as long as Liana let him hang around. ‘But it’s a bad idea to go out drinking when you’ve just had an inking,’ he continued. ‘You need to get it home and wash it. Didn’t you listen to the aftercare instructions?’
‘Course we did,’ Liana replied, taking another drag on her cigarette. ‘We’re not idiots. But surely one little tipple won’t hurt? It’s Friday night and we’re practically stone-cold sober.’
I remained silent, though I felt like I might well up with tears. I’d been a fool to think that a tattoo would change anything. Different face, but still the same girl with the same life.
‘I live just around the corner. I’m done for the day now and Jonah’s shutting up shop. You could both come home with me and I’ll pour you a glass of something nice. Get some warm water on those tattoos. Make you a coffee. Call you a cab when you need to show your faces to Mummy and Daddy. I don’t envy you that,’ he added, eyeing the now permanent tear below my eye.
‘We don’t live at home,’ I said abruptly.
‘Well then, you are both welcome to stay all night, just to be on the safe side. Wouldn’t want you to risk getting an infection in your eye, after all.’
He was laughing at the obviousness of his own pick-up lines, and I resisted an urge to hit him, though I had to admit that the guy was a looker, especially when he smiled and his full lips pulled open to display a row of even white teeth. He was attractive in a dishevelled, uncaring sort of way, the sort of person who would scoff at Neil’s daily and seemingly futile trips to the gym, but who still managed to maintain a lean body and bulge in his biceps without any effort at all. He looked as though he hadn’t brushed his hair for a week.
‘Come on then.’ Liana held out an arm to each of us, and we linked together and walked the few streets to Nick’s flat on King’s Road.
I stood outside the off-licence on the corner and stared at the sea lapping against the pier as the two of them bought wine and yet more cigarettes. My phone buzzed in my bag.
Are you OK? Want me to come get You?
Neil had managed to sober up enough to check on us and even offer to pick us up and walk us home. He’d probably been fretting since he got in. He was sweet but smothering, just like my parents.
We’re fine. Staying with friend. Don’t wait up, I replied, in case we didn’t end up going home at all and Neil freaked out and called the police.
My tattoo still throbbed, and I had a sudden urge to run down to the pier and throw myself off the side, letting the icy-cold water soothe the sting along with the strange funk that had settled over me and permeated my existence, as if one dunk in the sea could wash away all of my eighteen years to date and leave me refreshed and renewed, like a baptism. I had a sudden premonition that tonight would be the first night of the rest of my life.
Little did I know how true that would prove to be.
‘You all right, honey?’ Liana’s voice interrupted my daydreaming. ‘Don’t look so sad. I’m sure your parents will get over it. You don’t see them very oft
en, so it’s not like they’re going to have to look at you every day.’
She burst into peals of laughter and took me by the hand, pulling me along behind Nick around the corner and up to the door of his flat.
‘Christ,’ Liana said when we got inside, walking around the bright expanse of his living room with its large bay window and far-reaching view over the seafront. ‘Not such a struggling artist, after all, eh?’
‘You can thank my parents for this place. You two aren’t the only middle-class rebels in town, believe it or not.’
I warmed to him more after that. His mother was a QC, he told us, and his father a banker. He’d dropped out of his law degree and begun training as an apprentice tattooist with his uncle, Jonah, as a way to get out from under the weight of his parents’ expectations.
Liana made herself right at home immediately, nestling into his couch and resting her tattooed ankle on top of an ottoman. I perched uncomfortably alongside her.
Nick handed us each a glass of wine and returned shortly after with a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth. He pulled up a chair in front of Liana and lifted up her skirt, exposing the length of her calf, her bare knee and half of her thigh, although he only needed to gain access to her ankle, which was already uncovered.
I took a gulp of my wine. It was cheap and red and tasted pretty nasty, but I needed the distraction. Anything to ease the discomfort of witnessing Liana and her new man fondling each other.
He ran the pads of his fingers around her ankle bone, circumnavigating each bump as if it were a mini universe until he knocked the protective film that covered her tattoo and she gasped.
‘Careful there, buddy,’ she said, through gritted teeth.
Her response only seemed to heighten his desire. A flush had spread over his cheeks and though it didn’t seem possible for his mouth to become any fuller, his lower lip hung very slightly open as if he’d already begun kissing her, at least in his imagination.
I glanced down at his trousers and immediately turned away, startled by the size of the obvious bulge at his crotch. Nick seemed to be turned on by Liana’s discomfort and I was torn. We should have made a run for it, right then, and I knew that I was the responsible one of the two of us and that, as headstrong as Liana was, she would have come with me if I’d got up and left. She was reckless, but loyal to a fault.
But it didn’t seem like my business who Liana flirted with. She wasn’t drunk and clearly liked the guy.
‘Do you girls smoke?’ he asked.
I could tell that he wasn’t talking about cigarettes by the way that he rolled the ‘o’ in his mouth.
Liana grinned at him. ‘Why not? More fun than taking an aspirin.’
Nick gave her leg one last stroke and then stood up and rummaged in a nearby cabinet.
‘Just enough left for the three of us, I reckon,’ he said, tossing a small foil packet and a square of cigarette papers over to Liana. ‘You know how to roll?’
She nodded, and carefully dog-eared the sides of the foil open, exposing the flakes of dry green bud within. The smell was sweet, cloying and unmistakable. I had never actually smoked pot before, but I’d often caught a whiff of it on campus.
‘Another first time, my sweet, innocent Lily?’ she said to me, taking a liberal pinch of green in her fingers and sprinkling it over the paper. I nodded. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll show you how it’s done.’
‘No need to be smug about it,’ I answered. The wine was beginning to go to my head and I was feeling feistier than usual. Liana just laughed.
She lit the smoke and took a long drag, then gestured frantically for me to bring my face closer to hers.
‘Not as harsh if you take it from me,’ she mouthed, still holding the smoke in. She took hold of my shoulders gently and leaned forward, resting her lips against mine. I realised that she was blowing the smoke into my mouth rather than snogging me just in time to catch her exhalation.
‘Hold it,’ she gasped, quickly catching a breath as our mouths parted. Her lips were impossibly soft and tasted like wine, and I was surprised to find myself disappointed when she pulled away.
‘Ooh, I like that,’ said Nick, who had gone in search of more booze and returned just in time to watch our exchange. ‘My turn.’
He took the joint from Liana between his thumb and forefinger and sucked the end liberally, then bent down and clasped her chin, raising her face to his. His hand strayed down to her exposed throat and for a moment I panicked and prepared to lunge forward and push his arm away. Her neck seemed so alarmingly fragile clutched in his palm.
But instead of an expression of fright or fear, I watched in shock as she arched her back and lifted her mouth eagerly to meet his. He squeezed her neck tighter, holding her in place firmly as the smoke passed from his mouth to hers. He released her abruptly and as she sank back into the sofa, a look of blissful calm spread across her face.
The image of his hand around her neck and the way that she had responded to it replayed again and again in my mind and I bizarrely began to giggle.
‘I think I need the bathroom,’ I whispered, when I finally found my voice.
Nick pointed down the hall. ‘Second door,’ he said, without looking up. His gaze was fixed on Liana. Neither of them had responded to my uncontrolled laughter. It was as if they hadn’t noticed that I was there at all, as if they were finally seeing each other for the first time.
I rose unsteadily to my feet, unaware of what I’d just witnessed, and set off down the hall, leaning against the wall to find my way. My head spun as I tried to make sense of what was happening between Liana and Nick and the drug began to take over my senses.
In the mirror my face was red-eyed and distorted by the presence of the tattoo that decorated only one cheek. It was as if I had cut myself in half, and there were now two Lilys: the old, respectable me and the new rock ’n’ roll version. I looked like a clown and the bandage itched. I wanted to tear it off and scratch at my skin, but I forced myself to leave it, and just splashed some water on my face and returned to the living room.
Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon was drifting through the stereo and the sound affected me so intensely it could have been playing from beneath my skin. I slumped down onto the nearest piece of furniture, a bean bag lying just outside the hall, and relaxed into the soft leather cushion as wave after wave of music washed over me. Even if I had wanted to get up again, I was going to have trouble standing.
It took a few seconds for me to realise that the scene in front of me was real, and not a figment of my imagination come to life.
Nick was now shirtless. His jeans sat low on his hips, exposing the long V of his loin muscles, which were like a marker pointing down to the bulge below. He was cut, though in a lean rather than bulky way, and each time he moved, his sinews rippled like water. The light smattering of hair on his chest blended uniformly into the golden-brown colour of his skin. His hands were covered by a pair of black latex gloves, just like the ones that Jonah had been wearing when he tattooed me.
Liana was totally naked, kneeling on the floor beneath him, with her wrists tied behind her back and secured to rope that was bound around each of her thighs, framing her arse. Her head and knees were both positioned on pillows, protecting her from the hard wooden floor. Considering the way that she had been restrained, the presence of the cushions seemed almost comical, and I thought that I might burst into fits of giggles again.
My mouth was dry and still burned from the inhalation of the smoke. I opened my mouth to speak, but could only manage a croak, which was immediately swallowed up by the music. At first, the vision of Liana tied up like that was simply puzzling, and by the time it occurred to me that Nick might have taken advantage of her, I had caught sight of her face, which clearly painted a different picture.
Her expression was ecstatic, her lips parted and her tongue occasionally darting out to wet her mouth. She was not struggling to get away, not making any effort to resist his advances, but rather k
ept shuffling backwards and opening her knees apart wider, encouraging him to enter her.
Nick seemed as hypnotised by Liana’s bound figure as I was. He stood and stared at her kneeling beneath him for an age, before finally dropping to his knees and testing her wetness with his gloved finger. His first digit slid into her easily and he added another, and another, until only his thumb was visible, resting in the hollow of her arse.
Liana pushed against him, thrusting furiously backward despite the obvious discomfort of the ropes that were cutting into her wrists and thighs. Her sounds of pleasure were clearly audible over the loud music and were much more guttural than a regular moan. She was keening like an animal in a combination of pain and acute arousal, each rising in accordance with the other. The harder Nick pushed his hand inside her, the harder Liana moaned. He was grunting in unison with her, as if trying to orchestrate her responses in time with his own.
He reached his other arm forward and grabbed her long hair, pulling her head back as she screamed.
‘What are you?’ he cried.
‘I’m a slut,’ she replied.
‘Not quite.’
‘I’m your slut,’ she corrected.
‘That’s better. Now, come for me.’
He released her hair and she fell back down onto the cushion as Nick raised his palm into the air and brought it down onto her buttock with a loud spank. His hand then ran down between her legs, and I could tell by the redness that rushed up her cheeks and the sudden change in tempo of her moans that he must finally be playing with her clitoris.
The air in the room felt heavy, and was thick with the scent of sex blended with the slightly chemical smell of the latex gloves. I was intoxicated, not just by the wine, the marijuana and the ache in my still-throbbing tattoo, but also by the vision of my naked friend on all fours not more than a couple of arms’ lengths away from me. I could have reached out and touched her, but I didn’t. The space between us felt like a chasm, the distance between one possibility and another.
