A Dark Beginning: A China Dark Novel (22 page)

When they checked out the next morning, Leandro was waiting for them outside with a stretched Mercedes limousine. “To take you to the airport,” he said. “One last treat, to say thank you. You travel to the airport in style.” He opened the door, smiling at China. His expression as he looked at Philip was impossible to read.

The interior of the limo was dark, even though the sun shone brightly outside, and a sudden delightful thrill excited all of the nerves in China’s body as she sat down on one of the luxuriously soft leather seats.

“One last treat,” he said again winking at China as her husband clambered awkwardly into the back of the limousine, and he looked pointedly at Philip. She knew what he meant and nodded back. Leandro unzipped his fly and pulled out his erect member.

Philip’s eyes grew wide with surprise, but China moved over to kneel between Leandro’s legs and eagerly started to run her tongue along the underside of his huge member almost before Philip could hurriedly pull shut the door of the limousine, separating them from stark, sunny reality and plunging them into a new dark world.

When the whole of Leandro’s shaft was glistening wet with her saliva she engulfed the head with her lips and noisily fellated him. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Philip was entranced by this vision. He had never been so close to the game before. All of his previous voyeur sessions had been at a distance, from their balcony looking down on Leandro’s when they had made love outside. Often he had had to make do with her verbal recollection of the events of the evening. But now he was sitting just a couple of feet away from his precious wife as she sucked a handsome Italian man’s cock in the back of his luxury limousine. She could see that now Philip had removed his own cock from his trousers and was unashamedly stroking it, slowly, trying to make his own pleasure last as long as possible.

China turned back to the task in hand. It would be a special goodbye present to Leandro too. She had not yet let him come in her mouth. This was a constraint that Leandro had shared with Philip up until this moment. In fact, she had never been able to face letting any man experience that ultimate gift. She really wanted to know how Philip would react when she let this man shoot his seed where he had never been permitted to. She worked Leandro’s balls with one hand and used the other to wank Leandro’s rigid shaft as her lips pressed against the head of his cock and she used her teeth and tongue to tease him while she pumped.

After just a couple of minutes China could feel the tell-tale signs of an impending explosion from Leandro. He lifted his hips slightly, tensing his thigh muscles, his balls were tightening inside their sack, becoming as hard as pebbles. Then she felt the shaft pulse quickly twice, and the balls jumped. She resolutely kept her lips over the end of his cock as he exploded fiercely into her mouth. A little hot fluid spilled out of the side of her mouth and she imagined what Philip would be seeing. She wanted to touch herself, to join him in orgasm, but this treat was for her two well-behaved boys at the end of a lovely holiday. She could barely contain all of Leandro’s fluid, and she didn’t want to swallow. She had other ideas.

She carefully released Leandro’s cock, so as not to lose any of the warm, sticky fluid that was filling her mouth, and then returned to the seat next to Philip. She looked into his eyes and saw that he looked almost pathetically grateful. His hand was now furiously pumping his own member and she used one hand to stop him masturbating. She gripped his chin hard with the same hand that she had used to caress Leandro’s balls, and then pulled him into a deep kiss. As she kissed him, she forced his mouth open with her tongue and pushed as much of Leandro’s viscous seed as she could into his mouth. She drew away slightly, sticky strings joining their lips in a web of cum. His mouth was open, so she leant slowly forward and used her tongue to dribble the final few droplets of bittersweet fluid into it, then used her hand to shut his mouth.

“Eat Leandro’s cum, Philip. You’ve done it before. Show this man what you’ll do for me. Swallow every last drop.”

He did as he was told, eyes shut with the shame and ecstasy of being watched by the man who’s cum he was swallowing. China then took over the task of manipulating Philip’s rock hard erection, lovingly kissing his lips, chin and neck. His head arched back and he exploded almost instantly, lava hot ejaculate coating the back of her hand.

“You can see why I’ve been visiting Leandro each evening now, can’t you Philip?” she whispered into his ear as his head lolled back in post climax exhaustion. “His cock is quite a bit bigger than yours. He really stretches me. And his cum tastes quite good too. I’d never swallow your cum, but his I would bottle.” She was exaggerating of course, for effect, delivering ultimate humiliation directly into Philip’s over-stimulated brain. Leandro’s cum was bearable, but she was not sure she’d ever actually enjoy eating any man’s cum. Still, if it pleased her boys to hear her say it, she could play her part well enough.

China ordinarily hated the moment when she opened the front door of her home after returning from a holiday. That was usually the point at which the drudgery of her life returned, a crashing down of everyday reality that signalled the end of vacation fantasy. However, this time it didn’t seem quite so bad. She did actually have something to look forward to. Maybe she would see Mark again soon, but if she didn’t then her new lifestyle with Philip promised plenty more adventures anyway. She didn’t know where this road would take them, but she was anticipating a thrilling journey, her and Philip, together.

She still hadn’t told Philip about Mark yet, but had no doubt that at least she now could. When the time was right.

The first thing she noticed upon entering the living room was that the answer phone light was flashing. She couldn’t think of anyone who would leave them a message, most of their friends and family would rather talk to them directly than a machine. There was a single message. It was dated the day before their return, and she didn’t recognise the number. At first there was just a crackling interlude of around half a minute, and China considered the possibility that this was a mistaken call.

“Listen China,” eventually the caller began, it was her Aunt Sylvia’s serious voice. “I’m sorry China. Please call me. As soon as you get this message. It’s about your mum.” China was so frozen by dire implications of the message that the sudden clunk which marked the end of the call made her jump.

Without bothering to delete the message China picked up the phone and used redial to call her aunt’s number. Aunt Sylvia had never called China, so she dreaded the worst. When her Aunt answered it was obvious that she had been crying. A croaky voice just managed to get out a broken apology before the tears began again.

Instinct had already told China the news, but she asked anyway, dreading the answer. “What is it, Auntie? Is Mum ok?”

The conversation was a difficult one as Sylvia was devastated by her sister’s death, and her voice kept breaking into long silences mid sentence. China’s mother had had a sudden, unexpected heart attack two days before. She had been dead by the time the ambulance arrived. China was numb, sitting in an armchair, cradling the phone, not sure what to say or ask. After a few seconds of silence from both sides her Aunt said, “Look, I’m sure this has been as much a shock to you as it was to me. We do need to talk about… arrangements. But it can wait until it’s had a chance to sink in.” They said their awkward good byes and hung up. Philip had stood frozen in the doorway the whole time, still holding the suitcase, a look of intense concern and unbearable sympathy on his face.

“Put the bag down, Philip,” she said turning her face away from him. When the tears came they were hot and slow, and seemed to come from so deep within her. She was an orphan. She almost laughed at that ridiculous thought, a bitter symphony of inappropriate laughter and mad tears. Her husband’s arms around her felt distant and failed to comfort her and she stiffened against him. What she really wanted was a rare hug from her mum right now.

Philip made her a cup of tea when what she actually needed was a glass of wine, but he at least sorted out the pile of post that was still sitting on the doormat, and took their suitcase upstairs. She stood next to the telephone, staring at the untouched tea on the table, feeling paralysed. Philip was quite a while upstairs, presumably unpacking, but more likely giving China time to herself. She wanted him to just come back downstairs because she needed another hug, this time from him. Was he being thoughtful or deliberately avoiding an awkward situation. She wanted to be angry with someone, anyone, so she unreasonably leaned towards the latter explanation. When Philip returned he sat on the sofa and smiled at her. He patted the seat beside him. “Come here, love,” he said. She was in floods of tears before she even reached the sofa and she gratefully buried her face in his navy woollen jumper as he held her tight and rocked her gently, stroking her hair.

A little later on that afternoon Philip said he was going to the shops to pick up a few bits and pieces they needed, milk, bread, cheese. He was going to make her cheese on toast that evening and that was just what she needed. Proper comfort food before she steeled herself for round two of the emotional ringer with Aunt Sylvia.

When Philip returned from his short shopping trip he looked very different from the confident and compassionate carer that had left the house. He appeared to be in a state of shock. He dropped the small carrier bag containing the few provisions and slowly placed a newspaper on the coffee table. His eyes never left the headline on the paper. A big bold font announced the discovery of another local woman’s body. The fuzzy, out of focus portrait of the young victim on the front page rocked China’s world. The unmistakeable, pretty face of Esta stared out of the soft black and white print. The picture was slightly out of focus, as all murder victims’ pictures appeared to be. China’s hand reached out to touch the paper, shaking, but before she could touch it she burst into tears again. She sobbed alone on the sofa, there were no arms to comfort her this time. Philip just stood silently behind her, unable to move, and unable to take his eyes off of the haunting grey image of the young girl on the paper’s front page.

China was not able to face work the next day so Philip called in to explain before setting off for work himself. Other than a brief emotionless, goodbye and the phone call he made on her behalf he had hardly said a word. The previous evening her Aunt had called her back, having not heard from her, and the conversation hadn’t been any easier. Her Aunt had promised to help with arranging the funeral but left no doubt that the responsibility for ‘arrangements’, as she kept referring to them, sat firmly with China.

Whilst the distress associated with the death of her mother was difficult to deal with, the shock of seeing Esta’s face on the front page of the newspaper was markedly more traumatic. China couldn’t stop shaking. She was angry that Philip had not stayed at home to be with her. She needed someone with her, and it was Philip’s duty to be there for her. But then she remembered the look of shock on Philip’s face as he had placed the paper in front of her. That look went way beyond the normal look of concern or fear over a local news event involving an apparently unknown person. Philip did not know Esta, so why did he seem so affected? This thought added to a nagging doubt, an incongruity that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something she should be able to remember but couldn’t. Just out of reach in the mists of grief and complex emotions. Whatever it was, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Philip was at the centre of her concerns. Something he had said, the way he was acting. China shook her head, trying to dispel the fog of confusion.

She picked up the paper, only now able to touch it for the first time. Fresh tears blurred her vision and she was unable to properly read the words. It wasn’t that she had any particularly strong feelings for the girl, other than sympathy at a life shortened, a life that had crossed hers so recently and so intensely. She remembered Esta telling her about how she was earning money to send to her husband back in Romania so that they could buy a house. She had to stop herself thinking like this. It wasn’t helping. China couldn’t stop shaking though. This girl had been murdered by a serial killer. And she had been with this girl, intimately close, sharing a dazzlingly passionate experience, only a few days before her life had been violently ended.

“But why was Philip so affected by her death?” China asked herself again. China could reason that he was projecting this woman’s death onto his own life, knowing how local to China’s work the victim had worked, those details were no doubt in the blurred text, and increasing his fear that something bad might happen to China. His reaction, though, had been as if he’d known her personally. It was as if he’d lost a part of his own life. China’s mind fought her, reasoning and projecting scenarios that she did not want to entertain. Had Philip been having an affair with Esta? That would have been a startling, and unlikely, coincidence. She didn’t want to believe that, but she had to work out why Philip had been so damned traumatised by this supposedly unknown person’s death.

China hated herself for her next thought, but knew that she would not be able to start to let go of her unfair suspicions until she had followed it through to its conclusion. She opened a small wooden cabinet in the corner of the room and retrieved Philip’s laptop.

She sat in the armchair, as far away from the paper as she could get in this snug room, with Philip’s computer on her lap, unopened. She felt so guilty at her own behaviour. She was about to act like a teenage stalker, checking for Instagram and Facebook ‘likes’ on ex-girlfriends, carefully reading every social site status update for hidden messages to secret lovers. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She was the one who had been having an affair, she was the one who had intimately connected with Esta, and yet she was about to jealously check up on her husband. It was another ten minutes before China finally opened the lid of the laptop and typed in Philip’s password, the same one he used for all his signons. She tried to convince herself that if he had anything to hide he would have changed his password, but then her suspicious mind told her that he might not do that, as that act in itself would have been an indication of something to hide. Her head was a whirlwind of uncertainty.

She wasn’t quite sure where to start looking as she had never stooped this low before. First she went into his Internet browser and looked at the history. There were the expected collection of porn sites that didn’t actually bother her, several innocuous sites that matched Philip’s interests, cars, watches, designer clothes and, of course, hotels and flights for Italy. This made her feel a stab of heart breaking guilt as she looked forlornly at the sites Philip had visited to thoughtfully arrange their romantic break. A vacation that had led to a rather amazing adventure, and initiated a new phase in the dynamics of their personal relationship. She thought fondly of Leandro, a little sad that she might never see him again, but she had lovely memories of some very stimulating times. She resolved to shut the laptop when her eyes glanced upon a folder on the desktop called ‘Random Stuff’. Philip was very methodical, very precise, almost OCD, so that phrase was an unusual one for him to use when naming files on his precious computer that was usually so strictly organised. She was sure he would have found a method to categorize any ‘random stuff’ in a more specific way.

Double clicking to open the folder she saw a list of just three video files and her curiosity was piqued. She wondered what videos would be special enough for Philip to store in this folder that he had obviously named to put any unexpected observers off the scent. She suspected a selection of favourite porn maybe, ones that might involve a fair bit of cuckoldry activity given recent events and his particular proclivities, so was actually surprised that there were only three videos saved. These particular videos must be very special if he was being so selective. She hovered over the trackpad for a few seconds, her recent worries momentarily forgotten as she waited for her natural curiosity to take over. Some erotic material might be a welcome distraction right at this moment. “Ok,” she said out loud. “Here goes.”

The instant the video started she wished she had never clicked on the file. Mark’s flat came into stark focus, as seen from the corner of the room where his Nikon camera usually sat upon its tripod. China’s hand went to her mouth but she was unable to make a sound. At that moment her brain could not conceive of any possible way that Philip would have this on his computer. She watched the video play in stunned silence. Esta sat on the sofa with her hands in her lap. When China saw herself walking into the frame escorted by Mark she gulped, suddenly feeling very sick. She wanted to throw up but she couldn’t turn away as she watched the recent event from her own, personal, private history, from a different viewpoint to that which she remembered. It was all there. The whole sordid session. After she saw herself leave the room she watched as Mark walked over to the camera to switch it off, with Esta smiling at him in the background.

“What the fuck?” She couldn’t think of anything more constructive to say. Her mind was in turmoil and completely unable to make any sense of the situation. She knew that Philip should obviously not have this video in his possession. She hadn’t even known there was a video of her private session with Mark and Esta. They had obviously both known as he had filmed the fucking thing, and she had watched him switch the camera off. It was quite likely, China thought, that Esta had switched the camera on just before China had entered the room. And she could make a kind of perverted sense of that. She wasn’t happy about it but it did actually make sense. Maybe Mark had lured her into a relationship, with the help of Esta, to film some pornography to upload to the Internet. But China knew there was a whole lot of porn on the Internet, so it was almost inconceivable that Philip would just happen across this specific video whilst randomly surfing for titillation.

It finally occurred to China what the other thing bothering her was. Her elusive suspicion from earlier. The conversation at the end of the holiday in Italy, where Philip had told her very specifically that she would make a good lap dancer. She had known that the way he said it revealed a bit too much. Now she could see that Philip already knew that she had met with, and done a lot more with, a certain young lap dancer. One who was now dead. No wonder he had looked so shocked himself.

She checked out the other two videos. Both were taken in Mark’s flat and both starred China Dark. She gulped again, the acid taste of bile reaching the back of her mouth, and she thought she really was going to vomit. At the end of the final video she slammed the laptop lid down. She ought to be fuming at this betrayal but she was too shocked to feel anything other than nausea.

She only just reached the toilet before she spewed the contents of her stomach. She hadn’t eaten anything much since the morning before, so the spasms soon turned to a painful dry heaving with nothing to bring up. As she sat there next to the bowl, slumped on the floor, saliva drying on the side of her chin, her eyes were watering with the effort of vomiting but there were no real tears. The rage was growing within her. She might not be able to explain yet how Philip had managed to find videos of her with Mark and Esta but she knew that he shouldn’t have them. Their presence on his computer indicated a far bigger lie than she yet understood. For them to be there something must be very wrong, and she was going to damn well find out what it was.

Her anger overruled her previous grief and enabled her to start to plan what she needed to do next. First she would confront Mark. He was the source of the material so she would at least get out of him where he had uploaded that material, and then she could try to find out how it had ended up on her husband’s laptop. Finally, once she had that information, she would confront Philip about his part in all of this.

She let the fury take over, driving her determination, because this was easier than dealing with the sadness that was threatening to drown her. She left the house without tidying anything up. A large part of her wanted Philip to return home and find his laptop out on the floor by the chair. She wanted him to panic over what she might have discovered. Before she left she had tried calling Mark’s mobile number from her home phone. Right now she didn’t care about Philip checking the list of numbers called that month. It wasn’t like her liaisons with Mark would be a surprise to him now. The line had rung for half a dozen rings and then switched into the standard network, robotic voicemail message. She didn’t feel like leaving a message though, she wanted to talk to the bastard.

As she rode the tube into town her anger bubbled just below the surface. She needed to calm down, to work out what she was going to say to Mark when she found him, but she was struggling to gain control of her fire. Her first port of call would be his flat. If she could catch him there, off guard and without other people around he might be less defensive, more honest, however unwelcome that truth might be to her.