Just Like a Woman (8 page)

He comes to the front door to pick her up. Tells her mother Sarah is going out with him whether she likes it or not, and she will not be home till after midnight - if at all. The look on her mother’s face as they leave is superb; her mouth hangs open but no words came out. They drive in silence to the restaurant. He holds the car door open for her as she gets out. As her long stockinged leg reaches out she hears him try to hide the gasp he is compelled to release whilst he looks at her beautiful legs. He holds her arm leading her to the restaurant where the door is opened for them by the waiter.

‘Your table is ready, Sir, Madam,
A
pleasure to see you both again.’ Now his arm around her waist, he guides her into the restaurant and everyone stops eating to watch them walk through. As they sit he stares into her eyes,

‘You’re more beautiful than I remember.’ He doesn’t take his eyes from her face as the waiter hands him a menu. ‘Your usual to drink, darling?’ She smiles back at him and nods. Still not taking his eyes from her face, he orders their drinks and reaches across the table taking her hand in his. ‘Two days without you has been too long, I can’t be apart from you that long again.’ It’s not necessary for her to say a word.

Suddenly she shot back up and gasped for air. What if it all went wrong? What if he didn’t like her? Through the week she had a couple of panic attacks and the other receptionists at work became concerned. They knew some of her history and were very lenient with her, Dr. Short ensured they were. He was so good to her, had been since she was a little girl when she came in to the surgery for various reasons; there were always bumps and bruises on her body. But Dr. Short had always found a way to slip her a sweet when her mother wasn’t looking. He never questioned the marks on her body, choosing to believe the reasons given to him by her mother. Sarah justified this in her mind by accepting he had no choice but to believe what her mother told him. After all he had known her mother since she was a teenager herself. And what reason would she have to lie to him? Of course he would take her at her word; when she said her daughter was clumsy and forever falling over, then that must be the truth. Besides her mother ensured Sarah never had a broken bone; well not as far as Dr. Short was concerned. Her mother was sneaky like that, a trait Sarah had learnt to copy from an early age. And her mother had sworn her to secrecy that involved various kinds of threats, so she would never contradict what was said, would never betray her mother. Maybe she could ask Dr. Short to help her now. He had done it before.

When she left school her mother didn’t want her to go out to work, but he came round and insisted, arranging for her to work at his surgery. Sarah felt eternal gratitude to him for this, for getting her out of the house. Yes, she was sure he would have vouched for her. But Stephanie’s idea was of course much better than hers.

She had called Stephanie through the week for support and to ask about her wardrobe. How would she know what to wear? She hugged herself. She was so lucky having people like Dr. Short and Stephanie in her life, they really cared about her; they were so kind. She washed herself with the exfoliator as Stephanie had suggested, enjoying the roughness against her skin and let the delicious feeling enter her body again as she thought of the new dress she had hidden under her bed, just in case.

After washing her hair she reached for the new conditioner. Going into the chemist to find a hair conditioner had been more confusing than she expected. Her mother bought all the toiletries; the cheapest. It was only soap, Sarah heard her mother’s voice repeat time after time, whenever Sarah tried to suggest they might try something she had seen on television or in one of her magazines. Stephanie advised conditioner along with shaving her legs.

Shaving her legs! She felt a proper grown up as she ran the razor up and down each leg and then under her arms as well. She had seen the adverts on television for these products, but never considered them part of her life.

Deodorant had been given to her at school, she had found a can in her locker one day after a games lesson. This was followed by advice on tampons and sanitary towels. She had to beg her mother for tampons and the girls at school had helped, for their own sakes as much as her own. It wasn’t until she started work that she was able to get them on a regular basis.

Stephanie told her on the phone, Robert’s favourite colour was orange but she really didn’t like such a bright colour and opted for pale green. It complimented her hair, so the shop assistant told her and when she looked in the mirror Sarah was surprised and readily agreed. Twirling in front of the mirror in the changing room she didn’t care who saw her, it was such a difference from all her other clothes; beige or black for work; a plain old fashioned black dress for the office party her mother helped her choose; and jeans and jumpers for the weekends. The dress and toiletries had taken nearly every penny she had secretly saved, but it was worth it.

She dragged herself reluctantly out of the bath and dried herself; ensuring she took everything with her. She opened the window to encourage the unfamiliar scent of bubble bath and hair conditioner to escape from the room. Her mother would probably not smell it anyway, her nose filled only with the smell of the next cigarette, but she couldn’t take the chance. She tiptoed back to her bedroom and hid the bubble bath bottle under her bed and couldn’t resist sneaking another look at the dress she had also hidden there before putting on her nightgown and slippers. Hearing the stairs creak, she quickly shoved the dress back under the bed and called out.

‘I’m just drying myself, I’ll be down in a moment.’

The creaking ceased for a few seconds and when she heard the retreat she was able to breathe again. She looked at the clock, it was ten past eight; less than twenty four hours to go. Her heart raced.

*****

Robert held up the print and felt pleasure in his stomach as it cleared to show the girl in the perfect pose. He hung it to dry, then took the next one. Underneath the surgical mask his lips almost curved into a grin but not quite. He really was very good, in fact, he decided he was brilliant and his top lip cocked to the side as his tongue flicked out to lick it. He walked back out to his office and closed the door of the dark room, he pulled the mask down to his neck and breathed in, clearing his lungs of the chemicals.

Once dry he sorted through them until he was satisfied he had the best one. He placed it on the table, under the bright lamp kept ready. Going over to the stereo he took out the vinyl disc and holding it carefully between the flat of his hands he placed it on the turntable. He refused to put a CD player in his office. He would only listen to Bob on a vinyl. Gently lifting the arm across, he placed the needle strategically on the track he listened to most; Lay Lady Lay sang out as he walked back to his bench. Humming to himself he took out his paints to carefully mix them.

It had taken months of experimentation to get exactly the correct shade and hue of orange that dried on the photographic paper to his desired colour. Singing while measuring out the three different colours and diligently mixing them. Once mixed he went back to the stereo and returned the needle to the beginning of the track once more. Silently picking up the paint brush he licked it to a perfect point before dipping it into the paint. He never tired of the sensation he felt as the first stroke of orange tinted the black and white print. Tingling up his spine, all the way to his teeth, his heart beat increased and his groin ached as it never did when the girls actually posed for him. Each stroke caressed her body enshrouding her in orange. With all the time in the world he delicately followed the lines and contours of her body shape. Once more humming and singing, the grey soon became orange and the tingling sensation increased. Never wanting to finish the process, it eventually was complete.

Standing back to admire his work he knew this was one of the best yet. He was glad he had enlarged it so much. Becky had been particularly pliable and would have done anything he asked. He recalled the evening and was surprised he remembered so much detail. The girls didn’t usually remain in his mind; each girl was only a body to be photographed; their names unimportant; the position and the dress all that mattered. Somehow Becky got to him. He didn’t understand why. Had she guessed what he was really doing? With Becky he had been lucky. Despite what had happened, she returned the following night and he’d been able to use the tripod and an orchestrated pose. So much better than just taking a snap with his pocket digital. The other girls were fooled or pretended to be, by his act of virtuousness and his charm. He’d never cared which, as long as they went along with it. When he suggested the photographs it was as if he had never done anything like it before. Each one believing they were special to him; he just happened to have his camera in his pocket; he just happened by chance to have the dress with him. Stupid fools, so easily fooled. Not like Becky. Becky was different. She knew what he wanted when she returned.

Holding up the picture, he decided, it would have a special place. And then just for an instant wondered if he dared leave it on display. Looking at it every day and night might spoil it. He needed to treat himself. Besides what if someone else did manage to get into this room? It would be ruined if someone else saw it. She was his. No, he would put it in its own drawer, move the others elsewhere. Propping Becky up against the wall for a moment, he opened the top drawer and removed the contents. Shuffling through all the pictures the hardness returned to his groin; he took his time. Placing them on the table he spread them out, the few he had retained, the good ones. Laying Becky on the table alongside the other girls he saw none were as good as the one he had just completed. Studying Becky he wondered what it was she had? Something was different about her. He gathered up the others and put them all in a lower drawer with the experimental ones. Then very carefully and with reluctance he placed Becky in the top drawer alone. It was time to cleanse himself from all this. He needed a swim.

Pulling himself out of the pool, Robert felt the rain fall hard on his body and stood for a few moments to enjoy it. Breathing in the cold wet air forever thankful he could afford to heat his pool all year round, as there were few things he enjoyed better than swimming naked in the rain. And Andy would be here soon.

Walking slowly into the house he grabbed a towel and rubbed himself down; no need for a shower now, the pool and the rain had done all the cleansing he needed for the moment.

He scrubbed dry his hair and ran his fingers through it. He was only spending the day with Andy, no need to bother, he would wait until this evening and then get togged up. Stephanie had given him strict instructions, again; be nice to her; be gentle with her; she was special. What the hell was so special about this girl? She was only a girl, she was not even that, she was a woman. Why be so gentle with her? But she wouldn’t tell him, he had to wait and see for himself, but he could hear the excitement in her voice down the phone. Stephanie was expecting great things here, she had even told him what to wear. Terry was supposed to be ironing his clothes now but as he pulled the towel off his head he saw her advancing through the kitchen.

‘What’s wrong?’

She never bothered to hide her feelings.

‘Just had another phone call from the Becky creature!’

‘Oh for godsakes.’ He threw the towel on the floor, standing naked in front of her. Terry just looked him up and down. ‘What is it she wants? I made it clear it was only one night when she asked to see me the next night.’

‘Well perhaps she’d have understood, if you hadn’t then seen her the following two nights.’ Terry sighed and turned to walk away.

‘Oi! Where are you going?’ He yelled at her.

‘Back to the office. I’ve relayed the message, and have no desire to stand here arguing with a flaccid penis!’ She yelled back as she continued on her way slamming the door as she went. Picking up the towel he wished he could find a way to tame that dyke.

Half an hour later, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, he opened the door to Andy, a big smile looming on his face as he saw his friend.

‘I’m glad to see you.’ Grabbing his arm he pulled him into the kitchen where two mugs stood ready to fill with the fresh coffee Terry made earlier.

Although they were of a similar age, Andy’s impish looks and shock of jet black curls kept him looking young. Robert endured endless jibes about this, but retaliated with remarks about how Andy’s high voice made up for his lack of height. They took their coffee in to the studio, Terry being banned from here, they were not likely to be overheard, he knew Andy was almost paranoid about anyone finding out his secret. Robert had told him on more than one occasion he really should try not to complicate his life so much, but at the moment knew he was living on a knife edge. Andy told him all about his affair some years ago. Having been seduced by his wife’s sister as he put it, he’d been having an illicit affair with her for 6 years now. His wife had found out and Andy finished it, there was a reconciliation in which Robert had taken a large part. But last year Andy confided the affair was still going on, in fact things had progressed out of hand; he was now keeping his sister-in-law in a rather extravagant manner, all the time knowing if his wife found out she would leave him and take all she could with her. With Andy’s new TV family show on a Saturday evening the media were hounding him, not quite convinced of the squeaky clean image Andy portrayed. Any whiff of a scandal and Robert knew his friend would be finished.

‘You’ve got to tell Maggie. You really have Andy. It’s no good, look at you. Is she worth all this?’

‘Which one?’ he asked as he looked into his coffee. ‘I feel sick at the thought of it. You really can’t imagine what it feels like!’

An image of Becky came into Robert’s mind. God he hated the fucking bitches. All conniving manipulative bitches. Christ look at his ex-wife, she was the worst of the lot. But if he waited long enough, he knew she’d eventually come crawling back. She needed him; she loved him. And when she realized she still loved him, then he’d make her wait, make her wait until he was ready.