Anonymous Lover Ch. 03

We collapsed on the bed and lay together for a long time afterwards, not speaking. Then she stirred, her fingers gently smoothing my hair back from my forehead, turning toward me so that we could see each other.

Her eyes crinkled. "I suppose it is not a good time to tell you that I'm really a guy."

I reached down and ran my index finger over her sodden slit. "Good surgery. Anyway, I meant to tell you on our first date that I'm really into guys."

She laughed, a throaty, sexy chuckle. "That's no problem then." She stretched out languorously, her breasts riding up so that the nipples were vertical and I could see the outline of her ribs through the satin skin. "Fuck, that was good!"

"It sure was."

My heart was an empty vessel in my chest. I could never tell her that at the moment of my release it was Beth's slim form that I envisaged under me, her pony tail thrashing from side to side as she welcomed her brother's cock deep into her hungry young body.

*****

I saw a lot of Susan over the next few weeks. She didn't actually move in, but I gave her a key and she stayed over most weekends and the occasional weekday as well. We got on well: it wasn't just a physical attraction, but a shared interest in things. She was an easy conversationalist and our sense of humour was very similar. The sex was dynamite.

One Sunday we were lying in bed, bedclothes in disarray and sweat drying on our skins. I was on my back, looking up at a little rainbow of colour that the morning sun had thrown there as it was refracted though the window. She was on her side, one thigh resting over my lower body and her head on my chest. I could smell the sharp freshness of her hair. She spoke, her voice soft.

"David, who is Beth?"

"My sister."

"How come you've never mentioned her?"

I did a quick mental audit of all of the conversations we had ever had. It was true. I had never once mentioned Beth to Susan. I wondered what had triggered the question, and how she knew about her.

"Not much to mention, really. We don't get on very well."

She lifted her head and turned to face me. "You were talking in your sleep last night."

"Really? What did I say?"

"Quite a lot." Her head sank back onto my chest. "You were with Beth and were angry, I think. Shouting at her, telling her that she was a slut. Then you calmed down mumbled for a while, and then...."

The silence drew out.

"Then what?"

"You started talking to her....about being inside her, fucking her. How she was tight and good and you loved her." She pushed herself up so that she could see my face, and her eyes were liquid pools swimming in her face. "It was full-on. I tried to wake you but you wouldn't. It was like you were there with her." She paused for a moment, regarding me. "You were very intense and I wasn't with you. I felt like... a voyeur."

I forced a smile to my lips. "Wow! That's kinky. Did I enjoy it?"

"You seemed to be."

"Did I come?"

"Yes. No. It's not funny. You were crying out. It's almost as if it were real to you." She sank back down and her voice was muffled as she spoke again. "I know it was a dream, but it made me feel bad."

I touched her hair softly. "That's all it was, baby, just a dream. Only a dream."

"That's what I'm worried about" she said.

*****

Beth came to stay for a week over Easter. Susan was away again, so it suited my purpose as I didn't ever want the two to meet, and seven days should be sufficient to do what I wanted. She arrived on the doorstep wearing a short blue dress and lace up sandals, a baseball hat with her pony-tail fed through the back and her sunglasses perched on the top. I opened the door and she looked up at me.

"I'm here."

"So I see. Come in Beth."

She walked into the lounge and dropped her shoulder bag on the table, looking around the room. "Interesting house."

"Come on, I'll show you around." We walked though to the end bedroom which she would be having, its double bed pushed against the wall. I'd bought a brightly coloured bedspread which looked good in the afternoon sun slanting in through the double windows opposite, set off by a vase of daffodils on the bedside table. The room looked cosy and comfortable, but she said nothing.

We walked down the narrow corridor, and she peered into my bedroom as we passed. "Ah, The Cockpit. Has Susan moved in yet?"

"Does it look like she has?"

She shrugged. "Who knows?"

I stopped abruptly and turned on her. "Well, she hasn't. And if you don't like it here, feel free to move out."

Beth held up her hands, palms facing me. I could see her make an effort to collect herself. "Sorry. I'm out of order. I'll try to be nice." She looked up into my face and read the anger still there, so she reached up and touched me on the shoulder. "Really. I don't know why I said that. Thanks for inviting me."

I hadn't really invited her, but being here would serve my purpose. "OK, truce." I moved further down the corridor. "Here's the bathroom - we have to share as there's only one."

She nodded. "I'll keep my knickers on, then."

I tested her a bit. "Not on my account. I can be broad minded."

"Trust me," she said, "You're not that broad minded. I'll keep 'em on."

We moved on, and she paused at the door to the third bedroom. "What's in here?"

"Store room, I guess. Jim's got the key so I'm not sure what he's got in there - junk, most likely. Pity, as it means I've really only got two bedrooms." I fingered the key in my pocket. "What are your plans tonight? I've cooked a meal and there are a couple of good movies to watch."

"Lorna's picking me up in a few minutes. Girls' night out. I'll be back later."

"How much later?"

She shrugged, as if it had nothing to do with me. "When I feel like it. Don't worry, I won't rob you of the beauty sleep you need so badly. Leave me a key and I'll let myself in."

"No need. The door will be open." I had no intention of ever giving her a key.

A few minutes later she left. I walked to the front door and watched as she drove away with Lorna in her clapped out Daihatsu, its wheels sagging and the exhaust tied on with a piece of fencing wire. The gruesome-twosome heading into town and up to no good, I thought, and I figured some poor smuck was going to get a truckload of trouble tonight.

Back in the flat I checked through the arrangements I had made: all of the things I wanted were in place and I was ready. It all depended on her, now - she needed to be home tonight, drunk enough to help me in my plan but sober enough to do one final thing before I set it in motion.

It was about half past one when I heard the latch click and the sound of her footsteps in the hallway. She came into the lounge, weaving slightly, surprised to see me still up. She was disheveled, her lipstick smeared a little and she carried her shoes in her hand, the heel broken off one of them.

"Have a good evening?"

"Lorna's a fucking bitch." Her face was malevolent.

"Really. That's very eloquent, Beth, but tell me something I don't know."

She turned on me and I could see her trying to think of something suitably cutting, but the effort was too much. She sank back into the chair. "Fuck her! And fuck you, too!" She closed her eyes.

I went though to the kitchen and quickly heated up the milk I had ready and I tipped in the tablets I had obtained from the pharmacy. Together they contained about 15 milligrams of Docylamine Succinate, an anti-histomine agent with similar characteristics to a barbiturate. I knew its effect on her as I had offered her a similar tablet a year or two back when she was studying for her examinations and she could not sleep. On that occasion five milligrams had knocked her out for the night. This dose was three times that amount and I knew that it would have the desired effect but without danger. At worst she would wake with a hangover, dry mouth and perhaps an elevated pulse. With the alcohol she had drunk there was likely to be some disorientation as well, which would suit my purpose.

When I came back to the lounge she was still in the chair. I thought she might be asleep and I shook her.

"What!?"

"I've made you a drink, Beth. Take it. You'll feel like shit tomorrow if you don't."

She took it and drank, handing me the empty cup. "I'm going to sleep."

I helped her up she walked unsteadily down the hallway to her room. After a moment I heard the toilet flush and the sound of running water in the bathroom, and then her footsteps as she made her way to her room.

The clock tower two streets away was striking three o'clock as I moved down the corridor. Her door was ajar and the bedside light was still on, and she was lying across the bed on her back, fully dressed, snoring slightly. The room was filled with the sharp, acrid odour of vomit and I noticed that she had been sick on the bed; a little had stained the top of her dress. I wondered how much of the drug was still in her system and I leaned over her and shook her lightly. If she woke I'd pretend that I she had been having a nightmare and I was concerned for her.

"Beth, wake up." No response. Louder. "Beth. Beth. Wake up!"

She was out cold. Under her lids her eyes were slightly dilated, but her pulse was strong. I slipped my arms under her and picked her up, carrying her gently into the spare room where the mattress I had bought was on the floor next to the old radiator. I put her down carefully, slipped an athletic sweatband around her wrist and then fastened the handcuff over it, making sure that it was secure but not too tight. The other end was already around the radiator pipe where it emerged from the floorboard. She moaned and stirred briefly, but then settled back. Next to the bed I'd left the essentials she would need: a jug of water and a glass; some food, a piss-pot and a roll of toilet paper. The only illumination was from the small nightlight plugged into the wall socket, for I had covered the high window so that no light could penetrate from outside. Silence pervaded the room, with the thick old walls shielding any sounds from outside.

Satisfied, I locked her in the room and went to catch a few hours of sleep, for I knew that later today I was going to be busy and I would need my wits about me. As I lay in bed I reflected on the list of indictable offences I could now be charged with - kidnapping, perhaps; certainly unlawful imprisonment. For a moment I wondered why I didn't just let her go and never see her again, but I knew that would never resolve the nagging worm of desire buried somewhere deep inside my brain. Despite all that had occurred I wanted to roll the clock back to the first night I had fucked her, but this time without those silly masks. I wanted to hear her cry out my name as I pumped my sperm into her slim body. I wanted her to want me, but it had to be consensual - only then would she would be the one filled with longing and I would be the one in control. And after I had had my fill of her I would decide whether to cast her aside, or not.

The morning dawned dark and heavy, with an unseasonable chill to the air. Strong gusts of wind buffeted the house, the old roof trusses creaking and groaning in protest. A dark day for dark business, I thought, and I turned over and drifted back to sleep.

*****

I left Beth until past midday, but I knew she was there as I could hear her muffled shouts for help from the bedroom. They ceased abruptly as I turned the lock in the door and stood in the doorway for a moment. I had pulled a black balaclava over my head and a paramilitary jacket gave me additional bulk but I knew from that angle she could only see a silhouette framed by the door. I moved quickly to the desk and switched on the desk lamp, its powerful beam pointing directly at her.

She was sitting up, propped up against the wall and as the light struck her she shrank back, her free arm thrust up to cover her eyes. Her hair was disheveled and her face was pale.

"Hello?" a tentative query. "David? Is that you? You fucker! Let me go!" She lowered her arm but her eyes were screwed up tight against the glare of the light, dark smudges underneath them. "This isn't funny, you bastard! Let me go."

"Be quiet!" I cut across her like a whiplash, my voice guttural and harsh. "Your brother isn't here and I'm sick of your whining!"

She stopped, and I could see her trying to look past the glare of the light to see who was there. "Who are you? Let me go!"

"I don't think so, Elizabeth. You are worth far too much for that."

"What do you mean? Where is my brother? Who are you?"

I let the silence draw out for a moment. "I've told you all this. Are you listening this time? You are no longer near your home and soon will be traveling further."

She pulled back, her face filled with fear and panic. "That's not right. I'm staying with my brother.....I arrived yesterday....."

"No. We took you from his flat."

"She shook her head in denial "that can't be right. Where am I...let me go, you fuckers!"

"Shut up!" I moved quickly from behind the desk and she shrank back as far as she could as she observed the black figure moving towards her. I squatted down near her, just out of her reach and spoke more softly.

"You are no longer home, Elizabeth. Do you understand that? We took you and you are in a large city, ready for your trip. Everything has changed in your life, and you would be advised to accept that."

"No!" she was shaking her head, her face screwed up in horror. "No, No. I'm home... I'm with David..."

"David's dead!"

Her mouth opened and she wailed, a half human sound filled with terror and despair. "Nooooo...."

"He tried to be a hero." I dropped a square of photographic paper onto her lap. "Here's your dead hero."

She picked it up, turning it so that the light fell on it. She looked at it for an instant, observing the image of my head on a pillow with wide, staring eyes and blood black and thick as tar splattered around it. I'd spent an evening taking that shot and touching it up on the computer, but she wasn't to know that.

"Oh, God no. Not David." she clutched the image to her chest with her left arm and the chain of the handcuff rattled against the radiator as she rocked back and forth. A low wailing noise came from her mouth.

"We'll give you Morphine for your trip. It helps you sleep but unfortunately it is habit forming. Still, that's not my problem. I have a number of clients interested in western girls, and they don't seem to mind, although Heroin is their drug of choice."

"No, let me go. I'll give you what you want!"

I thrust my face towards her and laughed. "You have nothing that I want, you slut. Do you know how much you are worth to me? Do you like to fuck, Elizabeth? That's good, because you'll fuck a hundred men a day where you are going! Work out how much that is worth to me!"

I rose to my feet, turned off the light and walked out of the room, closing and locking the door, hearing her sobbing in the dim light of the room as she held my photograph to her breast.

Later that afternoon I came back to her. In the glare of the light I could see that she hadn't moved, although she had drunk some of the water. Her eyes were frightened but her little face was defiant. I began to dismantle her life, starting with her friends.

"You have no friends, Elizabeth."

"Yes I do"

"No. They use you in the same way that you use the people who loved you."

"No. Lorna is my friend."

I laughed harshly and she flinched at the sound. "Lorna thinks you are a tramp. It was Lorna who turned you in to us, who gave us the details of your sordid little life and told us where you would be. She's spending her money now, and tonight she'll be warm and safe in her bed, and you'll be here with me and the dead brother that you loved!"

"My Mother will find me."

"She thinks you've betrayed her too. You've written her a letter saying that you've sick of her clinging, fussy ways and you've moved out and she shouldn't follow you. She'll get that in a few days."

"No. Oh God, no."

"Why are you surprised, Elizabeth? Isn't it true that you've treated people like shit? Why should they care about you?"

She stared up at the light, frightened and alone, and said nothing more.

For four days I kept it up, taking her food and water and removing her waste, watching her defiance shrink a little each day. On the last morning I went into her, watching her asleep on the mattress, her face dirty and her little blue dress filthy and wrinkled.

The light woke her and she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The silence stretched out, and then she spoke, her voice calm.

"I'm not what you think I am."

"And what is that?"

"A....a slut. You called me a slut. You think I like to...sleep around." Rising in pitch. "It's not true. I'm no use to you... I've only ever been with one guy. " She turned her face up towards the light, searching for me.

I laughed. "That would be David."

Her mouth dropped open and I could see the wind blow out of her, like a yacht suddenly becalmed on a lake. I went on. "We know all about you, Elizabeth. How you fucked him for a dare, your little tricks with Lorna and Sam. The games you play with people." I hardened my voice. "You don't give a shit about anyone but yourself, but the tables are turned. Now you'll fuck for everybody."

"No. No. It wasn't me. It was the others. I played their game, its true, but I never fucked anyone!"

"You fucked David."

She was silent for a moment. "I loved him."

"Ha! Loved him! You fucked him for a bet and then boasted about it, and then you treated him like shit! All you wanted was to have a good time with your two little whores."

"Oh no. No." She was crying, shaking her head from side to side, her thin body hunched over. Her voice rose to a scream "What do you want from me? Let me go!"

I waited until her screaming stopped, and she sat there sobbing, sucking in great breaths of air as she tried to breathe, to control herself.

"Tell me about your brother. How could you love him and do what you did?"

She wiped her nose on the back of her arm. "I've always loved him. He was everything I ever wanted, but he had no time for me. I was always his kid sister and he thought nothing of me."

"So you decided to fuck with him."

"It was Lorna's idea. She's a bitch. I was a virgin and I wanted David so much and she found out that he was going to a costume party." The words tumbled out of her, like pus out of an abscess. "I dressed up and he didn't know it was me, and we went together. He didn't know.....how could I tell him? He would never have spoken to me again."

"And you treated him like shit."

She turned on me. "Haven't you ever loved someone and couldn't have them?! I couldn't tell him!"

"But he already knew, Elizabeth."

"No, he didn't! I know he didn't! How could he know?"

I walked over towards her and flung the pages of her journal at her. She flinched back, the pages fluttering around her. "He read that, you bitch. Think on that when you think of him!"

I left her there again, sobbing by herself in the corner.

Twice more that day I went into that shabby little room and played the charade, listening to her growing despair, watching her body slump more and more as she spiraled downwards into a black pit of fear and misery.

She didn't have much more to say, other than to repeat that she loved me and to insist that she had built up a shell to protect herself from the anger and scorn that she perceived I would pour on her if I learned the truth. God knows if she was being honest; by then I was sick of the whole thing, and as I watched her slender shoulders shivering with fear I was overcome with a feeling of shame. Whatever she had done to me, she didn't deserve this and I resolved to end it.