Sugar Dust (8 page)

“She does understand, but
you
need to understand what
she’s
going through. It can’t be easy dating a pothead when you’re a copper—talk about conflict of interests. Add that to the fact that she’s a girl
and
gay in a man’s profession... She just needs the same commitment from you.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“I just want to give you the other side of the argument. Think about how she feels.”

“What about me? I hate lying, but imagine the conversation with my uber-bigot parents. They have a hard enough time with you.”

Though she chuckled, Karen understood perfectly well. She felt a prickle of unease tease down her spine at the memory of her last visit to the Smith household.

“How’s your mum?”

Cindy scratched the flaming heart tattooed across her right shoulder. “She stopped scrubbing the sofa cushions, if that’s what you mean.”

Karen cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m exaggerating, but I don’t think she’s ever had a black woman in her house before. I won’t take you there again. Sam neither. Mum would disown me for sure.”

“But you’re so happy.”

“As if that means anything!” Cindy’s fingers tightened on the shortening stub of her blunt. “Sam and I don’t fit into Mum’s perfect little world of boy-girl couples who marry,
then
have sex. And have six brat kids. I’ve told Sam this, but she still wants me to come out.”

At a loss for what else to do, Karen returned to her tumbler and held it aloft. “To crazy-ass mother figures.”

“Here, here.” Cindy drained her glass. Refilled it. “What’s up with your mum?”

“Nothing. Dan’s mum is a nightmare.”

“She can’t be worse than mine.”

Karen snorted. “Today, she tried to set Dan up with another woman.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Bitch.”

Having her own words repeated back at her eased some of the ache in Karen’s mind. “She thinks I’m after his money.”

“Dan’s a social worker. He doesn’t have any money.”

“No, but Maxine does.”

Cindy looked vague.

“She’s a bit famous. She starred in some stupid sitcom in the seventies,
Home with Mr. Barclay
? She’s got loads stashed away and no other kids. What else will she do with it when she pops it?”

“You’ve thought this through. She should be worried.”

“Shut up, ho-bag!” She aimed a playful punch at Cindy’s arm.

In the pause that followed, Cindy finished her smoke. She pulled the last few dregs out of the stub, and then flicked it in the direction of a plant pot on the other side of the room. Waving at the lingering clouds of smoke, she retrieved the rum bottle and drank directly from the neck.

“Fuck this.” Cindy burped and gestured with the bottle. “Let’s go out.”

“Seriously? It’s a Thursday.”

“Can’t you go out on a school night?”

“Screw you.” Karen displayed the back of her middle finger.

“You wish. Come out with me. You don’t have to be at the university until next Friday. Come have some fun.”

“I’m not sure.”

“You scared of fun now?”

“No.”

Cindy swigged from the bottle again. “Then come out with me.”

Karen took in her friend’s unfocused gaze and swaying stance. “No, and you shouldn’t either. Call Sam. Talk to her.”

“No.”

“You guys just need to talk it through.”

“Like you and Dan?” Cindy snorted. “Because you’ve been so good about telling him to stick his stupid Slave Library.”

Smart-ass retorts froze on Karen’s tongue. She turned away from the window and back towards the room. She looked not at her friend, but at the floor, nibbling her bottom lip. “I like the Slave Library.”

“And I secretly love cock.” Cindy snapped. “Are you still kidding yourself? I know he’s blind, so he won’t see it, but you should know yourself better than that.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Cindy sighed and shook her head. “I’m going out. If you feel like joining me, I’ll be at Helsinki.”

The thought of Cindy loose in one of the biggest, noisiest gay clubs around almost made Karen change her mind. “Please stay in,” she whispered. “We’ll watch Resident Evil. You can perv on Mila Jovovitch.”

“Nice try. I’m getting changed.”

Fifteen minutes later, Cindy emerged from her room wearing scruffy dungarees over a fishnet bodysuit and Doc Marten boots. She lingered near the door. “Last chance.”

It was tempting—so tempting. Perhaps it would be nice to blow off some steam. To dance. To drink. Fondle a stranger beneath some garish blue and green strobe lighting.

She shook her head. “No thanks.”

“Whatever. Don’t wait up.” Cindy slammed the door behind her.

Karen sat in the silence and tried to pull her thoughts under control. In the end, she dropped to her knees and pummeled the beanbag until her hair stuck to her face and her breath rasped through her lungs. It helped, but only a little.

Leaving the rum and the other debris of Cindy’s distress, she rushed into her room, flung open the doors of her wardrobe and reached for the back. Her fingers touched the smooth surface of her vibrator and dragged it into the open. Karen peeled off her clothes. Dived beneath the duvet. Switched on massager at its lowest setting and shoved it between her legs.

The dull hum soon eclipsed all other sounds in the flat but for the low whistle of her own breathing.

Soon, the hum took on a fresh pitch as Karen’s body reacted to the stimuli. She pressed the round, vibrating head harder against her clit and closed her eyes. Her free hand roamed, stroking, poking, pinching, twisting. Erect nipples stood out beneath her fingers, teased to stiff points by the soft brush of the cotton duvet. A damp patch formed on the sheets beneath her. Next setting. The buzz growing higher. Her free hand played over her stomach and breasts before shifting up to her throat. Then her questing fingers found the patch of flesh still aching from Dan’s incredible bite a short while before. Her clit swelled with a fresh rush of sensitizing blood and she moaned into the pillows.
Dan... Master...
She imagined him beside her, replacing her hands with his. She remembered the stab of pain from his teeth and tried to recreate it by pinching the same area. Just as the familiar pressure began to build the vibrator gave a grumbling whine and switched itself off. Her pleasure guttered on its upward incline and slid back down into nothing.

Karen’s eyes jerked open. “Fuck.”

A quick jerk removed the back panel and she tipped the four dead batteries into her palm.

Not for the first time, she vowed to buy a new vibrator with a plug attachment. She wrapped the duvet around her body, left the spent toy on the mattress, and wandered back into the living room. Her body tingled with left over pleasure and the scratch of cotton against her bare skin made her shiver.

A burst of icy cold swirled against her legs and thighs as she opened the freezer in search of ice cream.
Mint chocolate chip. Rum and raisin.
Karen took both and a spoon off the draining board before heading back to her room. Half way there, she heard a dull buzz and the muted tones of “Slave 4U” from the depths of her handbag.

The cell phone, when she eventually unearthed it, displayed Master Calling to match the ring tone she used for Dan’s calls. Her thumb hovered over the connect button. The phone stopped ringing. She considered calling back but the memory of Cindy’s voice filled her head again. Accusing. Damning. Irritatingly correct.

“I hate the Library,” she told the silent phone. “I hate that I have to share you all the time. With other girls, your mum—why can’t you just be mine?”

It rang again. Karen hugged the ice cream tubs tighter to her body and dropped the little machine on the sofa.
Not now.
Backing away from the sofa and the cell phone, she returned to her bedroom and shut the door.

Chapter Eight

Dan raised the volume on the TV and spread his legs. His flaccid cock flopped against his thigh and on grasping it he felt no stirrings there. He grunted and began to rub it, gaze pinned to the naked, skinny, blonde woman on screen, kneeling before a man dressed head to toe in customary black.

She licked her lips and thumbed her breasts in a provocative display of submission then opened her mouth. As soon as the Dom’s cock touched her tongue, she began an excessive sequence of grinding, writhing, and moaning, all while fingering herself with long, French manicured nails. He turned off the TV. Never before had he realized how ridiculous most porn was. His mind strayed to Karen and the soft smoothness of her skin beneath his fingers as they watched such movies together. He remembered her hands mimicking the actions on screen and the heat of her breath against his ear.

In the space on the sofa usually reserved for her, lay a box of tissues, four empty lager bottles, a bag of crisps, and a tube of KY. Yet again he picked up his cell phone and picked Kaz Kitten from the top of the recently called list.

The line rang and rang and rang. When her chirpy voice pitched in with its pre-recorded message, Dan wiped his eyes with the tips of his fingers. “Kaz,” he said after the beep, “it’s me. Dan. Daniel. Again. Please call me. I’m sorry. I’m watching the DVDs you got me for Christmas, but they’re really shit. Like really, really, really shit. Why did you buy me shit DVDs?” He burped. “I can’t even get it up without you here. You always make it fun when we watch these movies. Why won’t you answer your phone?”

Eventually, even through the mind-fuzz of too much alcohol, he realized that there was nothing more to say. He hung up and placed the phone on the floor near his foot beside several wads of damp tissue. Snagging a fresh lager from the pack on the coffee table, he popped the lid and drank. When the landline rang he had to try twice to leave the sofa.

The room lurched and the carpet wobbled beneath his feet, but he made it to the wall without falling and plucked the handset off the hook. “Karen, is that you?”

“We made it home safely, darling. Just thought you’d like to know.”

He frowned. “What?”

“It’s me. Mummy, darling.”

He burped and tasted old lager. “Oh, you...”

“Yes, we’re back in Ely. We got a train straight back. It’s a good thing we had open tickets.”

“Oh. Good. Okay.” He clutched the wall, the receiver rammed against his ear while his mind raced, trying to find excuses that might allow him to hang up.

After long seconds of silence, Maxine spoke again. “You really surprised me today, Daniel. I thought I taught you better than that.”

“Better than what?” he slurred, thinking back over his behavior that evening. Nothing in his memories deserved this scolding.

“Better than to treat your father and I in such a way.”

“I treat Dad just fine. You’re the one I booted from the house.”

“Daniel!”

“What?” Leaning against the wall, he hissed down the phone. “You did it to yourself. You come unannounced. You insult my girlfriend and my friend.
And me
. You insin—insinu—”

“Insinuate?”

“Insinuate that Karen and Pete are fucking about behind my back and try to shove a kindergarten bimbo into my life.” He heard her gasp and rode right over it. “You’re ruining my relationship. And that’s not fair.”

“Darling, are you drunk?”

“Yes,” he said with self-righteous enthusiasm. “I reckon so. And that’s your fault too.” That felt even better.

“That’s not fair, darling.”

“Life isn’t fair. You taught me that when you bought my cousin an electronic bike for Christmas and all I got was a jumper with cows on.”

“You liked cows.”

“Whatever.”

“I want to talk about Karen.”

He gripped the phone until the plastic creaked. “Oh, well done, Mum. Now you know her name? After you’ve messed everything up.”

“Daniel, stop being so flighty.”

“No,
you
stop interfering. I don’t want to talk about Karen. Not with you. I want you to be happy for us. If you can’t do that, leave us alone.”

“Darling—”

“No. That’s it. I said it.” Acknowledging the words brought a sense of calm to his mind. It steadied the writhing of his stomach and warmed his chest. He actually smiled. “It’s done. I mean it. Be happy or leave us alone.”

A faint sniff issued from the handset. “Is that really what you want?”

“Yes, damn it.”

“I thought my only son would have more love for his mother, but—”

He sighed. “I
do
love you, but enough is enough. I’m too drunk to handle your games tonight.”

“What games?”

“Your ‘Poor me, the whole world is out to get me’ game. Your ‘If I keep picking at his girlfriend maybe he’ll dump her’ game.”

“Darling, you’re tired. You should go to bed—”

“Stop it! Don’t mother-smother me now. I don’t need it, I have Karen.” Even through the booze-fog Dan realized he’d caught onto something. If his mother’s sharp intake of breath wasn’t clue enough, her next words cinched it.

“That girl? She rents an apartment but stays in your house whenever she feels like it, eating your food without paying any bills. She’s no good for you. She can’t take care of you. You’ll always need your mother for that.”

He laughed. “Jesus, I get it now. You can’t stand that I might need her more than you.”

“You’re drunk.” Maxine’s voice no longer simpered. It snapped and cracked like ice cubes breaking. “I won’t talk to you when you’re drunk.”

“
You
phoned
me
.”

“For a sensible conversation—”

“To squish me back under your thumb.” More laughter, and a small hiccup that turned into another burp part way through. “I should talk to you while drunk more often. You actually make more sense that way.”

“Daniel, please—”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait a moment, darling, I don’t think—”

Dan pressed his forehead against phone, depressing the button at the top.

In the silence that followed Dan waited for the sense of liberation and pleasure to take over. It didn’t. Instead he felt a rush of nausea that sent him racing for the stairs. Half way there he realized, with his last shred of sense, that he would never make it to the bathroom.