The Christmas Exhibition (18 page)

             
“I like a pint,” I said, realising my ridiculous attempt at small-talk the moment my mouth opened. I decided to plough on regardless. “I mean, in my local.”

             
Billy nodded.

             
“Even if it is a dying trade,” I continued, as Dave and the apprentice lassoed themselves into our conversation. “Personally, sometimes there's nowhere I'd rather be than sat on a barstool talking to a stranger about everything and nothing in the world-”

             
“I spent half my life doing that, mate,” Billy interrupted, cringing over the sound of Tracey's howls. “I'd bang the world to rights, I'd solve the Middle East, the economy, the war, poverty, hunger, Australia...”

             
The apprentice and I glanced at each other, clueless as to what was wrong Down Under.

             
“... Then I would go outside and I couldn't find my car in the car park.”

             
Dave and the apprentice laughed. I slid half the contents of the
Harp
tin down my throat.

             
I recalled Jill's tale of Sean's mouth on her lips. How her pussy had soaked her thighs. How her legs had parted. Wishing for his fingers.

             
“Do you know what I did in the end, guys?” Billy asked.

             
For his cock. Upon which her eyes had been fixed.

             
“What?”

             
She was with him. She was throwing herself to her temptation. To her desire. To her need for degradation. To present herself to someone she couldn't stand.

             
“I started sharing taxis.”

             
To give herself to him.

             
“Hahahahaha, Billy! Good one. Hahahahaha!”

             
To submit to his affluent, privileged will and his wealth.

             
George crunched a used tin in his palm, took aim and tossed it at the apprentice. His eyes were cruel, determined and knowledgeable. The apprentice was doused in the last splashes of lager. Billy grinned, though he was shaking his head in disapproval. As was Dave. The apprentice feigned a giggle, attempting to dissuade any inkling that he couldn't take a joke. Meanwhile, it was as if George
knew
. He
knew
that something despicable was occurring between Jill and Sean. Within reach and yet somehow out of sight. His laughter launched louder.

             
Enough was enough.

             
I slammed down my beer on the nearest desk, and stomped across the floor in the middle of the office.

             
Alarm bells echoed in my head.

             
Voices and faces blurred into insignificance as I passed.

             
My eyes caught a glimpse of my reflection in a window. The red Santa hat was still sat ridiculously on my head. I grabbed the pom-pon, wrenched it free from my scalp and hurled it towards the nearest bin.

             
Tracey would be so disappointed. At least when she finally recovered from her drunken drop to the floor, and Sharon and Nici ceased in their incessant needs to nurse her back to her health.

             
Jan Dildo she was not.

9

My shoes thundered on the steps which led from the office to the reception. I was determined to locate Jill and Sean. To interrupt them. To expose them. Yet I hammered my sole heavier with each additional step, hopeful that my commotion would disturb them. That Jill would find her senses. That she would call a halt to their activity.

             
The doors and glass front came into view. The lights of the reception shrouded the darkness outside, hiding anyone enjoying a cigarette from view.

             
My ankles crashed my feet to the steel steps, sending a cacophonous vibration in every direction.

             
Hear me, Jill
, I thought,
hear me and spare me the humiliation of catching you in his arms
. Her own thoughts on him reverberated in my mind, summoning sickening sorrow and disgusted despair.

             
I hit the floor and charged onwards to the front door, renewing purpose in each step. I was resolute. Certain. Conclusive.

             
Hollow words swirled into a silent exhalation of breath, as I careered out of the building and onto the tarmac ground, swivelling and surveying the area. Accusations, orders and rebukes charged from my abdomen to my throat, and fell dormant upon the sudden discovery of their absence.

             
“Jill?” I called finally, and wearily.

             
The still air of the evening returned neither suggestion nor clue.

             
“Jill?”

             
Nothing.

             
“Jill?” I sounded more uncertain, and more ridiculous, with each additional futile attempt to find her.

             
I slammed the front door, shaking half the building.

             
Nobody moved.

             
No heads twisted in and out of sight, stealing a glance.

             
No mouths shared clandestine whispers within earshot.

             
Wherever they were hiding, I would not find them.

10

“
You find Jill?”

             
I shook my head.

             
He was a labourer I hadn't even spoken to yet. The fact he knew she was missing meant either the rumour mill was rumbling or he and the whole lot of them were scheming together.

             
I glanced around the office. Nici and Sharon were dancing to
The Jackson 5's
rendition of
Frosty The Snowman
. Tracey, or Jan Dildo as I couldn't help but think of her, was slumped on a swivel chair, salivating on her blouse. Billy, Dave and several others were joking, chuckling and swigging more beer. The apprentice was the butt of many jokes, taking them in good jest and surrendering none of his true insecurities. And then there was George, laughing louder than all the rest and flicking his eyes ever so occasionally to mine.

             
He
knew
.

             
I was certain.

             
If Sean's tongue was in Jill's mouth, he
knew
. If his hands were on her ass, he
knew
. Her breasts, he
knew
. Her ass...

             
Oh God.

             
Jill's pussy.

             
I swallowed.

             
His fingers... Ploughing into her... Frustrating her at one second... Pleasuring her the next... She would be gasping... Gagging... Gargling... Oh fuck!

             
“Give me your thick, fucking cock, Sean.”

             
I could hear her.

             
In my mind, I could hear her.

11

Frantic thoughts clawed at frenetic fears. Frenzied feelings boiled under bridges of resolve. Laying claim to lands of longing. Longing for lust. For revenge. For indictment.

             
Sean entered the office, slipping smoothly between drinkers and avoiding my eye. Sweat matted his hair to his forehead. I was certain it was sweat. There was no room for consideration or wider speculation in my scope. No reasoning of snow. Nor of rain. Nor sleet. The weather outside was irrelevant. The boss' son had worked himself up into a perspiring lather with my girlfriend. Every indication he had ever given to her of desire had netted him the end result he sought so hard.

             
So hard?

             
Who was I kidding?

             
Jill had thrown herself after him like the slut he so accurately accused her of being.

             
Sharon grazed her crotch against Nici's ass, their bodies swaying in time to
Christina Aguilera's Dirrty
. Whoever was in charge of the music couldn't have picked a more appropriate tune, as I waited for Jill to return.

             
I was certain she was deliberately taking her time, hoping to fool I and anyone else who wasn't a part of her plan that she hadn't been with Sean.

             
But she had.

             
There was no other explanation.

             
No matter what story or lie she concocted, I would not believe her. I couldn't. She had shaken my trust. Quaked my belief. And reawakened the lack in my faith.

12

“You left me up here... On my fucking own... I had to witness Jan Dildo's fucking hysterical shenanigans.” I was seething, speaking through clenched teeth and forcing the volume of my voice to remain under the steady beat of the music.

             
“What?” Jill asked, perplexed.

             
Anger contorted the expression on my face, freeing my muscles from my clamped jaw. “Jan Dildo.”

             
Billy was watching, weary as Jill's body language betrayed the false smile she wore on her face.

             
“Matt, what is Jan Dildo?”

             
“Tracey,” I explained. “She went down as if she was shot, and you must've bolted out the door hand-in-hand with Sean when everyone was distracted.”

             
George tapped the arm of another labourer, then pointed past a water dispenser draped in tinsel to us both.

             
“I... I don't understand, Matt...” The wine was wreaking havoc with her voice, articulating at a much higher sound than she realised. “Why Jan Dildo? Who is Jan Dildo?”

             
“Jan Dildo,” I said quietly, thinking. “Aw, what was her real name?”

             
Jill shrugged her beautiful shoulders. Her cleavage clutching at my attention.

             
“You know who I mean,” I insisted. “She presented
Crimewatch
years ago. She was shot in the head-”

             
“Jill Dando! Matt, that's not funny. That poor woman was murdered on her doorstep.”

             
I was unapologetic. “Tracey murdered the dance floor.”

             
Jill was shaking her head, crossing her arms and, especially noticeable to I, rubbing the inside of one leg against the other. She was suppressing her arousal. Her pussy was alive. Desiring to be devoured. Degraded. Destroyed.

             
I checked the time. “What the fuck did you do while you were away with him?” I demanded, hiding my rage from her colleagues behind a tin of
Harp
.

             
Jill breathed deeply, and her breasts heaved under her black lacy top. Her lips were deep red, clad in a newly reapplied layer of lipstick. They parted. Her white teeth were revealed. Underneath, was the soft texture of her tongue. “Who?” she asked, blinking slowly.

             
“You know who.”

             
Jill stared ahead.

             
“You were with Sean.”

             
“I didn't tell you that,” she snapped, her emphasis clearly upon control.

             
I knew she had been with him.

             
She knew she had been with him.

             
“You were with him, Jill. You were gone for ten minutes. Do you think I'm a fool?”

             
She twisted her head to face mine. “Baby, I don't think you're a fool. Please, don't talk like that. I'm just...”

             
“What, Jill?” Fury trapped my comprehension in suspicion. “What are you
just
?” Madness mauled at my composure. “You're
just
what?” Rage ripped from my throat to my tongue.

             
“I'm just having a little fun.”

             
My blood boiled. “A little fun?” Anger echoed from chasm to chasm within. “Jesus, Jill.” Emptiness swallowed hope and spat delirious, vehement disgust. “What do you mean?”