Role Play (36 page)

With that,
I turned and walked away. All I could see were the lies. I wanted to call him
Victor
because that’s who I had fallen for. Not this new man, not
Vic
. The man I made love to wasn’t lying or manipulating me.
Victor
knew me inside and out, and I trusted him.

How could
I ever trust Vic? I couldn’t.

I mean, I know he’s twisted. But this is really twisted.
Seriously twisted.

I
didn’t look back as I left the park.

Chapter 33

Vic

I couldn’t believe it. In spite of everything, Sierra walked away. I could talk my way out of hell if I needed to. But she up and walked away.

She
had stripped me of my powers, unmasked me for the man I was. And judged me unworthy.

I
sunk my head in my hands, wishing I could start all over again, go back to the day I left my grandparent’s house. I could have become anything I wanted. But I had sabotaged myself and created a Frankenstein mock-man of myself. Looking back on the years, they were so empty. At the time it had been exciting, getting away with something, having sex with the most beautiful women in the city, watching them chase after me and beg for my attention. Degrading themselves in all sorts of delicious ways to win my love.

But that was nothing now that
I had met Sierra.

From now on,
I would be the kind of man she could admire. No matter what.

Chapter 34

Sierra

I fumed all the way home. Now I was mad. Maybe it was the proper sequence for the stages of grief, and I was grieving for the loss of my
Victor
. The man who had seduced me into submitting to him, until I begged him to take me in front of a hundred strangers. Then I kissed his boots in gratitude.

I
made a disgusted sound, making several people on the bus look over at me. I was getting heartily sick of my train-to-bus commute, with the long wait in between at Hunter’s Point. But what choice did I have? I didn’t make enough to live in a proper apartment. My bank account was nearly zeroed from the money I had hemorrhaged over the past month, including the gone-forever security deposit my old landlord had officially claimed because I hadn’t given him thirty days notice.

Vic
had baited his trap with the lure of money and an easy life. And I had been stupid enough to fall for it, and to think I wasn’t good enough so I wouldn’t protest when he didn’t take me out or introduce me to his friends.

I
was so gullible! How could I have dropped my guard so much? Because I wanted to believe that an irresistible man found me irresistible?

It was the memory of his touch that
I couldn’t shake. I really wished I could stop thinking about our last scene at the Masquerade. But it haunted me, that feeling I had craved to finally become one with him. He had hardly touched me, but it was embedded in my body and heart and mind, the ways he had touched me. As if he had claimed me, and because I had given myself to him, I could never take it back. In spite of everything, I dwelled on our moments together, every look from his eye, every caress of his finger across my skin.

I
would never forget his face when he told me about his mother, like he was showing me the ugly scars he kept hidden from everyone else. The walls in him had fallen, and his eyes pleaded with me to understand, no longer closed off. It was exactly what I had longed for, and it was even better than I had imagined. The way he had made love to me… as we gazed into each other’s soul…

I
realized I was sitting on my bed in my cubicle room, and couldn’t remember how I got home. Again.

It was really stupid to walk around the city in a daze.
I was a hazard to myself.

I
was overwhelmed because I couldn’t separate Vic from Victor, the con artist from the master, the lover from the liar. Maybe they were one and the same, and the feelings he had given me at the Masquerade were part of the con. Maybe it was nothing but manipulation and I was eroticizing my attacker.

Sick, sick, sick…

It made me worry for Lola. Was my sister going through something like this with Martin? If anyone fit the con man label, it would be a grifter like Martin. An older man taking advantage of a young, flighty woman who was alone in the world for the first time…

What if Lola was going through the same mental and emotional manipulation, as
Martin softened her up for some devious reason of his own?

I
put my head into my hands. I had come full circle. Only I was a lot worse off now. I had gone to the Chamber to find out if Lola was in danger, but it had taken the whole summer to find out the truth. It was even worse than I had feared.

And Lola still wasn’t speaking to
me.

I
knew it wasn’t right, and spying had gotten me into plenty of trouble, but I opened up my computer and took a look at Lola’s profiles. Her Facebook page hadn’t been touched in a couple of months, with only sporadic updates before that. Her profile on FetLife was exactly the same as the last time I had checked.

On the other hand, the Transcendence page had
lots of events listed on their calendar. It looked like they were doing more gigs than before. Maybe the addition of Lola to the mix had helped give their troop a boost.

They were booked for the second and fourth Saturday of the month at P.S. 1
21, the place Josh had told me about. When I checked out P.S. 121 online, it turned out to be a performance space and art gallery with recording studios and rehearsal rooms on the upper floor. On the ground floor was the gymnasium and cafeteria of an old school that had been revitalized by the local community in Alphabet City, back when nobody wanted it.

The calendar listed Transcendence among several
acts for next Saturday at the performance space, and in the gallery in the former cafeteria space there was a show of leathercraft and steampunk art.

It also said the TNG was going to have an outing to P.S. 1
21 this Saturday to take in the art show and performances. The word “TNG” caught my eye, and it took me a moment to remember the woman I had met that first night in the Chamber—Monica. Monica had suggested that I go to TNG because that’s where I could find real kinky people my own age, not just horny guys.

Poor Monica was also being duped by Vic, along with so many other
girls.

There were lots of reasons for
me to go to P.S. 121 this Saturday. Not the least was to find out why my heart was still calling out for the things Vic had done to me, no matter how much I told myself that
Victor
didn’t exist. That man who held me in the palm of his hand was a figment of my imagination.

But if
I went, I had to do it right this time. I picked up my phone and texted Lola:
I want to come to P.S. 121 this Saturday to see you and TNG. Is that okay?

Hours passed before Lola finally responded:
It’s my work. I can’t have drama.

I
felt unjustly accused. I almost fired back an irritated response, but then remembered that our last encounter at the Festival had been dramatic enough to spawn legendary rumors of a twin cat-fight. Lola was still mad about that.

So
I swallowed my pride and texted back:
No drama. I promise.

Lola must have been waiting because
she replied:
It’s open to the public. I can’t stop you.

It couldn’t have been clear
er. Lola still wanted nothing to do with me.

But
my effort was my own. I wasn’t going to give up on my sister, and if she didn’t want to talk to me, that was fine. She would know I was there if she needed me.

I
also had questions that needed to be answered about Vic. I could do that with or without Lola’s help.

...

I had a tough time figuring out what to wear on Saturday night. I didn’t consult with Devi and Candice this time—things had cooled between me and Devi since our Labor Day party. I didn’t like it that Devi had told everyone we went to Pleasure Salon together. One of our 3
rd
floor roommates was being weirdly friendly now when I said hello in passing on the stairs.

Finally
I settled on black leggings and a chiffon blouse that looked like a runny water color in dark blue and purple. And high heels, of course. Josh had said that you could go topless at P.S. 121 so that meant people would be dressed sexier than at Pleasure Salon, but that wasn’t my style.

I
wasn’t playing a role or dressing to please anyone other than myself tonight.

I
took the short-cut subway route and braved the two block walk alone between the stations. It would suck getting back home, but what choice did I have? Twenty-five bucks for a cab was too much when I also had to pay to get into the event. Getting out at the first station, I clutched Candice’s pepper spray in my hand as I hurried along, keeping up with the stream of passengers who were also heading into the city on the same awkward route.

P.S. 12
1 was as close to the river as you could get on the East Side without getting wet. From the outside, it looked like an old-fashioned school building with the words Boys and Girls chiseled into the stone over the doorways at each end. I went through the open door under Boys.

The first thing
I saw in the anteroom was Lola, painted bright pink. I didn’t realize it was Lola at first. All I saw was the naked pink girl greeting people who were coming in, and then my brain caught up with my eyes.

Lola scrunched up her face, which was also a uniform pink. “I told you not to come,”
she said defiantly.

“I didn’t say anything,”
I protested.

“I can see the judgment all over you.” Lola stood back and waved her hand in
my general direction. “All you do is criticize me.”

“Lola, everyone is looking at you,”
I pointed out. And it was true, everyone coming through the door stared at the naked pink girl. “It’s not just me.”

“It’s worse with you. They think it’s interesting and fun to see a pink girl. You make me want to hide.”

I couldn’t believe I was being lectured by my naked little sister. “Back up, Lola. I just came in. You didn’t even give me a chance to say hello to you.” I turned to Martin who was hovering unhappily nearby, wearing a ring-master’s black tail and top hat. “Hi, Martin. How are you?”

“I’m fine. We’re
psyched about our performance tonight.” He rubbed a soothing hand against Lola’s back as she subsided into a sullen silence. “The girls are going to be wild creatures caught in our nets.”

“Really?
” I asked. “That sounds interesting.”

In a low voice, Lola told Martin, “She’s being sarcastic.”

“No, I’m not.” Irritated, I turned back to Martin. “I can’t wait to see it.”

Without another word,
I walked into the large auditorium. I was really pissed. Why was Lola being so awful? Sure, I had messed up by spying on her. But it was done out of love, and it didn’t make sense that Lola would cut me out of her life because of it. Besides, Lola had been pushing me away even before I spied on her. That’s why I had been forced into desperate measures in the first place.

I
wandered around and looked at the leather and steel bondage contraptions that were scattered around the outer edge of the room. A couple of people were being tied up or spanked, but it was nothing like the Masquerade where bodies were writhing in every darkened nook. Mostly it was people standing around talking—civilized like. Some were wearing fetish gear, but most were in business or casual clothes including one guy in shorts and sandals.

A performance was in progress onstage—
several women were wearing black bodysuits and prancing around with bits in their mouths. Their harnesses were held by a man in a western hat. I realized they were supposed to be horses, and remembered the listing on the calendar said there would be a Pony Girl Exhibition.

I
was shaking my head in wonder at the vivid imaginations of these kinksters, when I saw Josh and Anna.

Smiling,
I made my way over to the towering man and his diminutive girlfriend. “Hi! You go everywhere, don’t you?” I asked them.

“Pretty much,” Anna admitted. “Josh has a lot of commitments.”

I shook my head slightly, not understanding.

“He volunteers for a lot of groups and events,” Anna clarified.

“That’s me,” Josh said. “Overextended.”

They both gave
me a hug, which surprised me but made me feel warm inside. They were so friendly that I hung out talking to them for a while, wandering around and watching the pony girls up on stage.