Access All Areas (15 page)

So in this way, ten minutes later, I was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking strong coffee with the man I had shared it all with. He smiled, a hard perverse little smirk, when I came in wearing my dress, barefoot, holding my shoes. “No shower, huh?”

I tried out a few smart answers in my head, and thought I liked the truth. I found my voice. “I like the way you smell on me. Don’t feel like washing it away just yet.”

He raised his eyebrows, his eyes growing rounder. And laughed. In a happy way. “I never thought I’d hear a girl say that. They’re usually so keen on smelling like flowers, or berries or whatever else they think they should.”

“No, I’m quite happy to smell like you for a while, at least.”

“Good.” And he sat down with his coffee. “So I gather, so far, you’re happy with…” Here he waved his arm around, and gestured theatrically with his hand. “…all this.” Then he gave me a strange little bow of his head over his coffee.

I took a sip of coffee. I needed it. “I am.” I took another sip. “Shouldn’t I be?”

His face changed slightly, but quickly returned to its implacable stillness. “You tell me.”

“I’m happy. No, happy is a stupid word. Last night…this morning…you…yes.”

The smile returned. “You’re doing that mangling words thing again.”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “You seem to have that effect on me.”

“Good,” he repeated. “Now we need to sort out some details.” And suddenly he was all business. He reminded me of that famous music publisher I had finally been able to interview, the one pointed out to me at that very first awards show. The same steely eyed, sharp nosed expression was there. Power. It was thrilling, and again I was awash with that same strange confusion, whether to fight him, or lie down and wait for the blessed inevitable.

“Listen,” he carried on. “It should be obvious to you now. I like to be in control. It’s the way I’m made. But not everyone likes that.” He looked to my neck, where I’d washed off the small spot of dried blood this morning. Now it was just red. “But I have the impression that you do. Despite a certain…what should I call it…defiance is a good word…that seems to be part of your nature.” He gave me another searching glance.

“True.” I felt like if I weren’t honest, I’d lose it all. It was terrifying, and I wondered if he realized how much he was in charge of me already. “Very true. I like to fight back, but I need to submit.”

He smiled again, and it made me scared. “Oh—I want you to submit. A lot.” He took a deep breath. Here it was, the kill. “So let’s discuss terms.”

I tried to sound brave. “Ok. Tell me what you want.” He looked at me and narrowed his eyes.

“It’s not that simple, but I’ll try to explain it.”

“Ok.” I took another gulp of coffee. Where was the calm happy feeling now?

“I want sole access to you. No other boyfriends, girlfriends, sex toys, whatever. You come with me, and me alone.”

This was promising. The little voice said, what about when he’s away, and what about when he can come, and I drowned it in more coffee. Shut up. You come with me. That phrase alone was pulling me in. I tried to stare back at him. Those eyes. I blinked. “Ok. Nobody else and not me either?”

“Right.”

“Ok, I can do that. What else?” I sounded like I negotiated sexual relationships all the time. Right. Bloody hell.

“When I want you, you come. I won’t be unreasonable—obviously you need to work and you have responsibilities. So do I. But if I need…want you there, you need to do what you can to come to me, wherever I am, as soon as you can.”

“Ok.” I needed a new word. But my brain was still stuck on him calling me, wanting me. I could only come with him. No touching myself. After last night, and this morning, that had lost its appeal anyway. I looked up at him, waiting for more.

“I like control. Power. Dominance. Over you. There are going to be…demands…I will make of you. I’m assuming that you’ve got a safe word that you like to use that you’ll share with me.” He was drumming his fingers on the table.

“I…no. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

His eyebrows went up again, and his eyes darkened slightly. He looked angry. Did he really have to leave? He could fuck me right here, on the table, and show me what he meant.

“You’ve never played in this scene before.” He sounded disbelieving.

“Unless you count being tied up with a t-shirt. Oh, and once I got a nose bleed when someone tried to mildly asphyxiate me. So no, not really.”

“Oh shit, amateurs. And you still want to do this?” He looked slightly annoyed.

It was my turn to smile. “I have a feeling you know what you’re doing.”

His eyes grew dark and faraway. “It’s possible.”

His long hair shadowed his face, with a sprinkling of stubble and his eyes stared off into space, his mouth pressed into a hard line.

He looked back to me suddenly, completely serious. “I don’t want to do this. Take away your innocence. I don’t know what you want from me. You’re complicated.”

I inhaled, sharply. No. This wasn’t going to go down this way. “I think we’re both complicated. That’s why last night was fun. Ok, maybe I haven’t had the best luck in finding people to match up with me. True. But I want this. I want you.”

He looked at me, waiting.

“You see something in me, and I feel what you see.” He was still silent. “For fuck’s sake, help me with this. I want this, I’ve always wanted it, and I’m not even sure what it is. But I’ll still want it…” And here an idea occurred to me. “And I’ll still want it, whether or not you’re the one to initiate me into it. I’d like to feel lucky enough to have you do it properly.”

He stared at me, and then there was a hint of that strange smile. He held up his large hands facing me, in some parody of a gesture of defeat. “Well played, little girl. But when I’m standing over you with a whip in my hand, I want you to remember your little speech.”

My mouth went dry. Jesus.

He smiled at me. “I do like you, you know.” He got up, and put his cup in the sink and turned and came back over to me. Bending down, his soft lips brushed my ear. “And you make me come insanely hard.”

He pulled me up by my hand, and kissed me, his tongue gently exploring my mouth. God.

“Come on sweetheart, I’ll call you a cab. I’ve got to get ready.” And he walked back over through the living room, picked up his jacket and pulled his cell phone out and made a quick call. Looking up at me, he nodded. “Five minutes darling. Have you got everything?”

I grabbed my jacket, checking for keys and phone and credit card in the pockets. I nodded. I still felt breathless.

He pulled me to him again. “The cab’s all paid for, don’t worry about it.” He placed a line of kisses from my ear to my neck that made me dizzy. He stuck a bill in my pocket and patted it. “That’s for the underwear. Don’t argue.” The tone in his voice settled it.

I looked up at him, and nodded.

His phone went. “They’re here. Alright little girl. Expect to hear from me.” He kissed me again. “Beautiful. Don’t doubt it.” And he opened up the door, and the elevator was there, the same one that had brought me up several lifetimes ago. I stepped in, feeling like I was in another world again. He smiled at me. And blew me a kiss.

I smiled back, bravely, and the door slid closed.

Suddenly alone, it was though the focus changed and everything looked sharper and harder. I was sure every feeling I had was written on me and when I walked past the handyman in the lobby, I tried to stand up a little taller. Nothing to be ashamed of. I just didn’t know what I’d agreed to, or who I’d really agreed it with.

Sitting in the cab, with hardly any room for my legs because of the security glass, and inhaling the strange mix of very old cigarette smoke and oil from the taxi, I leaned my head into the crook by my breast, like a bird trying to sleep. And I could still smell him, that glistening wetness that made everything better. Deep breaths, heading somewhere that was supposed to be home.

I didn’t want to think words and I forced myself to think of nothing but the song, and its plaintive, soulful joy, so much like the feeling running through my body. A feeling that didn’t ignore my body, or my head, or my heart. As I heard the voice in my head singing, I could hear his voice, crying out in pleasure, ripping through me. I fell asleep with the two mixing through me.

• • •

I woke up when the front door to the apartment slammed. I felt disorientated, then as consciousness slowly swept up me, a divine liquid achiness took me over. It was though as with sleep, all the reactions of my body changed, just a little shift, and all the sensation came back again, now mediated through pain, or soreness, or a tightness in my stomach, the tiny thrill of knowing what happened couldn’t be confused with a fantasy. I stretched out, toes to fingers deliciously all of a piece, instead of the fractured disconnection I usually felt. Even the background knowledge that there was something wrong with Alice, that I would have to hear about and deal with, possibly for days, if not weeks, could not take away my languid happiness. Everything felt sharp and up close from the ache between my legs to the throb of the wound at my neck, yet at a distance, like I’d been wrapped in some silk cocoon.

I stretched again. My usual impulse, to run to Alice’s side, the fixer, was gone. Did I even care? Where was I, and who had replaced me? Or maybe this was the real me, divinely indifferent, scorched by the gods. Or god. I giggled. This would never do. She’d hear me, and this would only increase her wrath. Oh I didn’t care. The whole world felt open, and warm. I’d move out of this apartment, and away from her moods, and life would be sweet and complete, and yes, I felt I being somewhat unfair, but it was all ok. It was finally, blissfully, completely good. At last.

I lay there, smiling, and listened to more things being banged. Maybe I could just go back to sleep, and dream sweet dreams of a certain dark eyed, dark haired divinity. Yes. That’s what I would do. I didn’t want to talk. Bathing could wait.

I rolled over and checked my cell phone. No messages. That was almost a relief. I needed a little time to myself, to readjust, and introduce myself to this new happy, selfish, achy person who seemed to be me. I shut my eyes against the setting sun, and vowed a few more blissful hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt me. My weekend. My time.

I buried my head into the pillows. Yes, I wanted a text from him. Telling me how fabulous I was. How happy he was. Yes, I did. But I wanted even more than that just to cuddle into the bed and not let anything ruin this feeling. But I sat up and looked at the phone one more time, just in case. Nothing. It was ok. I sank back down into the pillows and closed my eyes. Just a little while longer.

When I woke again, it was full dark outside, and there was just a strip of light falling onto the floor. I did feel achy now, and thirsty, and I needed to get up. I’d have to face the music. Hopefully, she was asleep. Or maybe she had gone out again. I creaked out of the bed, and grabbed a bathrobe. I was sure it was still obvious what I’d been up to, but maybe she’d be kind.

I went to the bathroom first. I didn’t look at myself—I didn’t want to. There was time for reassessment later, after some tea and food. I walked into the kitchen, and there was Alice, bottle of Jack in front of her. It looked like she’d been crying. This wasn’t good.

“Hey girl, what’s up?” I tried to sound neutral.

“Eh, life sucks. What else is new? Never agree to threesomes, that’s my new mantra.” Alice took a swig from the bottle. Whoa. This must be serious.

“What happened?” I didn’t want to ask, but there it all was in black and white. I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t.

“He decided she—no, they, needed to go shopping, and I needed to go home. That’s what happened.” Her face twisted into a bitter smirk. “Fucker.” She took another swig, and passed me the bottle. “Here, have a drink.”

“Nah, I’m making some tea. You want some? I need a little caffeine first.” I actually didn’t feel like getting drunk and losing the buzzy euphoria of hurting so sweetly in so many places, but I wasn’t going to say that. I turned to the kettle and busied myself getting out tea bags and cups. Don’t look at me don’t look at me, I repeated in my head. I did not want the interrogation. Would I luck out? I doubted it, but I could postpone the inevitable. The kettle boiled and I brought the two reddish cups of Assam, strong the way we both liked it, but no milk, to the table. Tea. I suddenly felt starving and horribly empty, and I realized it had been over 24 hours since I’d eaten anything, or drunk anything but champagne and coffee. Coffee. His sweet skin, and creamy coffee. I must have smiled.

“Hey!” Alice broke me out of my reverie. Shit. “Dream girl! I just remembered! So how did the dream date go with the dream man? Was it all dreamy?” Ah, bitchy Alice, out to play.

“Yeah, it was fine. Very nice.”

“Nice? That’s it? Sean told me he was a total player since the break up, a string of all kinds of girls. You’re lucky—apparently he likes all shapes and sizes.” Alice took another swig, ignoring her tea.

Bitch Alice was about to get bitch slapped. No, deep breathing. Ignore it, said some smarter side. Time for a bath. I picked up my tea. “Yeah, I am lucky. My size seems to be just right. Maybe you need some sugar in that tea, take away some of the bitterness.” I felt on the edge. “Or maybe you should just mind your own business, you’ve got enough of it.” I walked out. I didn’t care anymore.