Dark

by Rachel Harley

  ‘See you in the morning Pearl,’ he says, grinning at me and I’m through the door in a flash, my fingers tapping away at the keypad as I hurry up the stairs on autopilot.

  Am I ready for you? I’ve been waiting for you all day!

  He reads it immediately and as I reach my front door, panting, I push my way into the flat. I hesitate for a moment in the lounge, wondering if I should get the half bottle of wine out of the fridge, but I resist. It’s dangerous. I send stupid messages when I’m inebriated and I since I have no idea at all what Carter has planned for me tonight, sobriety is the safest option for the moment.

  As I hurry over to the bedroom, I can see the pulsing dots as he replies. I imagine him grinning at the screen as he does, seeing the eagerness soaked through the words I sent, my need for him. I do need him. The away ache is back and it’s not pleasant at all.

  The dots go on and on. What the fucking hell is he typing, War & Peace? I kick my shoes off and slide onto the bed, my back against the headboard and wait. Finally, there’s a whoop from my phone.

  Well, seeing as I’m just as desperate for you, I’ve a suggestion to make. Have a glass of wine, get naked and wait on the bed. I’ll Facetime you in ten minutes.

  Facetime!

  Holy shit! I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Sexting possibly, properly this time after my piss poor attempt last night, or maybe just talking to him about nothing for two hours would do me. Hearing his deep voice, his infectious laugh, saying things that make him groan. That would have been more than enough, but I’m going to get to see him, despite the distance between us. A delicious pulse drops between my legs when I read his text again.

  Have a glass of wine? Why?

  But I know why. He wants me uninhibited, which means only one thing.

  I scramble off the bed. I don’t even bother replying to him. I don’t need to affirm his instructions. He knows full well I’m already panting. I hurry into the kitchen and retrieve the wine, pouring a glass hastily and downing it. My heart is knocking against my ribs and I’m flooding with excitement, I can feel it seeping into my panties. On impulse and although I know I really shouldn’t, I pour another glass and shove the nearly empty bottle back into the fridge.

  Back in the bedroom, I strip off my jammies eagerly, throwing them onto the velvet armchair near the window and, as instructed, I climb on the bed naked to wait for him. My hands are trembling as I pick up the wine and I take a long sip, closing my eyes. I can’t believe I’m going to do this, whatever it is. Something I’ve never done before, I know that, but that’s not hard - I’ve done squat.

  That’s not true. Compared to last week, you’ve done shitloads.

  But I’ve never touched myself in front of a man before and I know that’s what he wants. He wants me naked, groaning his name on the bed as I get myself off looking at his incredible face. I’ve no issues with that, in fact, I wish that I’d been the one to think of it.

  I jump and then throb with excitement as my phone begins to shriek at me and I blow out a long, shaking breath. Picking it up, I connect the call and there’s a moment of two of static on the screen and then my breath stops.

  ‘Carter!’ I whine, not able to help myself, but the sight of his stunning face on my iPhone has flattened me. The aches combine, desire mixed with longing because he’s not here and when he hears the tone in my voice, his eyes become concerned.

  ‘Hey, what’s the matter? Are you okay? Baby, I’m sorry I’ve not been in touch all day, I…’

  I shake my head, trying to stop my chin wobbling. ‘It’s fine, honestly,’ I say brightly, but my voice is querulous and he bites his lip, his eyes softening to molten when he stares at me.

  ‘No, it’s not,’ he says quietly. ‘I wish I was there with you, I miss you so much.’

  ‘I miss you too,’ I whisper. ‘How are things going with your dad?’

  He shakes his head. ‘Same as usual - shit,’ he says flatly. ‘I don’t want to talk about him, anyway.’ His face shifts as he moves his position and he blurs for a moment, before coming back into focus. I can’t see the room that he’s in, but he’s on a bed now, leaning back, I can see the headboard behind him. He grins at me.

  ‘God, you look so beautiful,’ he says huskily. ‘Take your hair down?’

  He bites his lip as I comply immediately, undoing the clip at the back of my head, my thick tresses tumbling free and I can hear the soft moan that seeps from his parted lips.

  ‘Fuck, I want to bury my hands in it,’ he breathes, closing his eyes for a moment, shifting again on the bed. His left hand drops out of sight but he says nothing else, just content, it seems, to stare at me. He’s close, but so painfully far away. I’m not sure suddenly if this is a good idea. All I’m going to want to do is hold him, kiss him, whisper to him in the dark and he’s not here.

  This is the next best thing and certainly better than nothing. What are you going to do, tell him that you’ve changed your mind?

  No, am I hell. His breathing has deepened, just fractionally, but I already know his body well enough to be able to tell, even over a phone screen, that he’s touching himself.

  ‘Do you want to do this?’ he asks and I nod, eagerly. I’m signed up. I’ll do anything for this man, anything at all. He cocks a half smile at me, which raises his adorable dimple and I pang that I can’t touch and kiss it.

  ‘Okay, baby. This is what I want you to do,’ he murmurs and I can look nowhere apart from his verdant eyes, so wonderfully clear through my iPhone screen. Jesus I want to kiss him, so much, I’d give anything at the moment to have his mouth on mine and when I remember his kisses, I twitch and flood between my legs. This isn’t going to take long at all.

  ‘Close your eyes, Pearl. Keep them closed, beautiful, and just listen to my voice, okay?’ I comply immediately, despite the fact that I can no longer see him. I can hear him.

  ‘That’s good, baby.’ ‘Fuck…’ he mutters, almost to himself. ‘Now, I want you to drop your left hand between your legs,’ he murmurs, ‘and start to touch yourself.’

  I don’t hesitate and I hear a soft laugh as I jerk immediately I touch my clitoris, the phone twitching in my hand. I keep my eyes closed and do as he’s instructed, my mind throwing the memory of lying on his bed, looking up at him as he stroked me so gently for the first time, his thumb gently kneading my clitoris, his tongue sweeping sensuously….

  Oh God.

  I’m starting to tremble and Carter’s breathing deepens further, his voice when he speaks again tortured.

  ‘Fuck, baby… you look so hot. Open your eyes,’ he grinds at me now and I do, immediately locking with his. I’m struggling to hold the phone steady now, the shakes taking a firm hold and I bite my lip as I wantonly slide a finger inside me for the first time.

  It doesn’t do much for me, if I’m honest. Probably because it’s my own finger, but it doesn’t produce the bolt of hot sweet sparks that Carter’s fingers conjure up. Although I can’t see below his chest, I know the pace of his own hand has increased. I can tell by his deepened breathing, the light flush to his angular cheekbones and the darkness to his eyes.

  The two glasses of wine have emboldened me again and I decide to up the ante.

  ‘Now you close your eyes,’ I breathe, his mouth popping open as he hears my words. He half smiles at my nerve but then does as I’ve asked. ‘Do you have any idea what I’d give to have my hand wrapped around your cock right now, Carter,’ I groan at him. ‘Keep your eyes closed and imagine that every stroke is me. My hand, my fingers, my tongue, my mou…’

  ‘For fuck’s sake!’ he barks, his eyes flying open and he looks at me helplessly. ‘I can’t… I can’t…’ he chokes and then he throws his head back, all the sculpted muscles in his upper body tightening he starts to lash his fist up and down himself. My words have fired his imagination and have robbed him of his self-control.

  I don’t want him finishing before me, so I slide my fingers against the sopping apex
of my thighs. I’m incredibly aroused – I’m a slippery mess, but it heightens every sweet stroke of my fingers.

  ‘Are you nearly there, baby?’ he gasps and I realise that he’s trying desperately to hold onto it. He’s sitting upright, jacking himself off over the phone to me and I stifle a stupid giggle. If he’s not careful, he’s going to hit himself in the face with his spunk again.

  ‘Oh God, Carter, yes…’

  His eyes screw shut and he barks, throwing his head back again.

  ‘This is a fucking nightmare, I need to kiss you,’ he gasps, snapping his head forward and we’re immediately locked. I can see the tiny thumbnail of myself in the top corner of the screen, Christ, we’re two people so desperate for each other it blows my mind.

  His breath suddenly stops and I know he’s there. I let go too, a bomb going off between my legs, my soaking flesh twitching around my fingers and I remove my hand, suddenly not able to bear my own touch. I drop back onto the bed, my legs jerking and stiffening, holding the phone as best I can in front of my face, trying to clear my blurred vision.

  ‘Fuck! Oh shit!’ his language is absolutely appalling. I’m actually surprised that Carter swears as much as he does, given his background and the type of man that he is, but most of it appears to be reserved for sex, and actually, it really turns me on. Hearing the word ‘fuck’ fall from his perfect mouth makes me want to do just that. He gives a long, deep groan and then drops his head back, stretching out on the mattress and lying back. He’s spent, I can see it in his molten, stunning eyes.

  He bites his lip and looks at me, smiling lazily.

  ‘Did you come?’ he asks and I roll my eyes.

  ‘Duh? What do you think!?’ I snort and he laughs, his smile so wide and so beautiful. He’s gorgeous straight faced, but smiling, he’s knee-weakening.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whisper and his laughter suddenly stops.

  ‘What for?’ He settles back, shoving a hand through his hair, waiting for my reply.

  ‘This, being able to see you. You’ve no idea what it’s like in my head without you here, Carter.’

  Too much! Stop it!

  I can’t take the words back though and I can see his cogs turning.

  ‘Yeah, I do,’ he eventually says quietly. ‘I know exactly what it’s like, my head is a similar place at the moment.’ He gives me another languid smile. ‘I’ll be home soon,’ he says quietly.

  Home. Liverpool is home, not posh-knob Dorset.

  I wonder vaguely if his family live on Sandbanks. It wouldn’t surprise me.

  ‘Any idea when?’ I push. I shouldn’t do this to him, put him under the cosh like this, but I need to know. I’m counting the hours. He sighs, giving me a soft-eyed look.

  ‘Maybe Friday afternoon? I’ve got some meetings to attend tomorrow, maybe another on Friday morning, but after that I’m outta here!’

  ‘Have you got your own jizz all over you again?’ I throw in randomly and he laughs, rolling his eyes.

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ he says.

  ‘So where is it then? I ask curiously. ‘Are you wearing a condom?’

  He snorts. ‘What - to jerk off? No?’ He looks at me patiently. ‘I used a sock,’ he explains and I can’t help but collapse with laughter at the thought of him whacking off into a sock. He looks comically affronted, hiking a burnished eyebrow at me.

  ‘Well what do you expect me to do? It’s a real pity you’re not here, the sock would be defunct.’

  Yeah, no shit.

  I can’t wait until he comes home and I clench with glee again as I remember that I am now all birth controlled up and raring to go. I’m not telling him yet. I want to be an inch away from his mouth, so that after telling him that he can fuck me bareback, I can snog the life out of him. I actually don’t know what I’m missing more, his cock or his talented mouth. He kisses like nothing on earth.

  We say nothing for a time, just staring at each other over the identical screens and then he finally sighs.

  ‘Is there anything else that I can do for you this evening, Miss Harrison?’ he asks.

  Yes. Tell me you’re in love with me.

  ‘Dream of me,’ I whisper.

  ‘Always,’ he fires back and I smile as I remember his confession that he’d had a wet dream about me recently, had come in his sleep.

  ‘Will you call me tomorrow?’ I ask, and he nods, his lovely eyes so full of something for me, I have to close mine. I can’t keep looking at him, it’s killing me now.

  ‘Of course I will,’ he says. ‘I’ll ring you in the morning, I promise.’

  ‘I’m gonna go,’ I say shakily. I don’t want to, not really, but looking at him now isn’t helping me. I feel fragile, my need for him stripping me to the bone and I’ve an awful feeling that if I don’t end the call I’m going to cry and I don’t want to cry in front him. It’ll upset him and there’s not a single thing he’ll be able to do about it.

  Apart from jump in his Audi and drive through the night to get to you again, and that’ll put him back in the doo-doo.

  I half-expect him to protest, but something in his eyes tells me that he understands. I wonder if he’s feeling the same pain as me?

  ‘I…’ his voice catches and breaks and he shakes his head, giving me a sad smile. ‘I’ll see you soon, sleep well.’

  He blows me a kiss, flashing me a lovely smile and then he’s gone.

  Twenty

  I push the door to The Guardian’s infirmary open at half past nine the following morning.

  Thanks to Carter Jackson and his wonderful sexual ideas, I slept like the proverbial log and I feel great this morning, despite the two large glasses of wine I gulped feverishly down. The blinding orgasm that he gave without even touching me, just his softly spoken commands and beautiful face went a long way to calming my tortured soul at his absence.

  I’ve got another couple of days to endure, but he’s promised to ring me tonight and I’m focussed on very little else. Even Justin had a soft look in his eye when he saw the stars in mine at breakfast.

  Plopping my bag on the nurse’s station, I look around for Bernie, but there’s no sign of her. She’s probably sorting a handover, Helen will have been on overnight. None of the Guardian’s residents need any help, clearly. The place is as quiet as it was yesterday.

  I sit down to wait, Bernie coming out of the kitchen at the far end within the next few minutes, carrying a cup of coffee. She grins at me as she approaches.

  ‘Morning, Pearl.’ She holds the mug up. ‘Want one?’

  I shake my head. ‘No thanks Bern – I’m good.’

  She takes a seat behind the desk, sipping her coffee. She dives straight in, she knows why I’m here.

  ‘A little better this morning, thankfully,’ she says, putting the mug down and glancing at her monitor for a moment, wriggling the mouse and reading something on the screen. ‘She slept right through, I had to wake her up at eight, but I needed to do her obs. Her blood pressure is very low and her heartbeat’s irregular. It’s not quite atrial fibrillation, but it’s not good. The Doctor is coming back at eleven, she’s going to need some meds.’

  I sit back in my chair, pushing a hand through my hair. ‘Has she said anything?’

  Bernie shakes her head. ‘Very little still, and she won’t eat any breakfast. She needs some fluids, she’ll have to go on a drip if she won’t eat or drink soon.’ A sad smile now. ‘Her name’s Sophia Powell, that’s about all I’ve been able to get out of her. I’m sure you’ll have more luck, Pearl.’

  I get to my feet, smiling wanly at the lovely nurse now. Bernie’s dedicated and highly skilled. We had a young lad fall through the doors one afternoon with an abdominal stab wound and if Bernie hadn’t been here, he’d have died. We’re incredibly fortunate to have her on the team. She points down the short corridor.

  ‘Second door on the left,’ she says and I thank her, walking to the door and hesitating for a moment before knocking.

  I hear a soft voice telling me
to come in and I slip into the room, dropping my bag onto the chair in the corner and turning to the woman on the bed in front of me.

  She’s in a mint green gown, sitting sideways on the bed, her back against her wall and her knees are underneath her chin, her thin arms wrapped protectively around them. I’m suddenly catapulted back two years, in another room in this wonderful building. That was me – the woman on the bed. Sitting rocking and hugging my knees, Ellen pulling me into her arms.

  I perch on the bed, a few inches away from her. She hasn’t looked at me yet, her forehead resting on her knees, her eyes closed. She looks defeated, but I can also feel the fear in her. Despite being calmer than she was yesterday, she’s still terrified. She just doesn’t have the strength to run at the moment. I twist inside with misery for her. I know exactly how that feels.

  I hesitate before reaching out. Although I get the sense that she’s desperate for some physical contact, the comfort and warmth of another person’s arms around her, I don’t want to freak her out. I have no idea of this woman’s story, what’s brought her here and what’s happened in her life to break her so badly, but whatever it is, it’s driving her out of her mind with fear. I need to tread carefully.

  ‘Hey.’ I touch her shoulder and her head immediately turns towards my voice. She doesn’t lift it, resting her ear on her knee, but she looks up and locks with my eyes and I finally get a good look at her.

  Sophia Powell.

  Her hair’s now clean, but it’s still terribly thin and stringy, evidently due to the lack of a decent diet. I sweep my gaze over her face, trying to figure out how old she might be. Her face is unlined, there’s no sag to her jaw or neck, but she’s haggard. Her skin is blotched and spotty, almost grey in pallor, her sludge coloured eyes dead and lifeless. A tear wells in the corner of her left and slips slowly down the side of her nose as I watch. She makes no attempt to wipe it away.

  She would be a good looking woman with some weight and condition on her, if it weren’t for her nose. She has a lovely heart-shaped face, high cheekbones and full lips, but her nose ruins her otherwise good looks. There’s a gnarled knot on the bridge, which shoves the rest of the otherwise small appendage out of alignment. I don’t think it’s a birth defect, there’s a raised jagged scar on the top of the hideous swelling. Something’s panned her in the face, hard enough to shatter her nose and by the looks of the state of it, she’s never had it treated.