Dave was on another course for work and the girls were next door on a sleepover with the neighbor’s girls. Julie saw the taxi pull up outside and she knew that the time had come. She had to go through with this whatever happened and she was afraid. He had said 8pm in the Cliff Top Hotel and that she should dress for the occasion. She was in her little black number with a scarlet stole wound around her throat and one end hanging down in front and the other, behind. Dave said that the outfit made her look like a sexy Bishop. She wore black hold up stockings and there were silver buckles on her black, court shoes. It all made a perfect ensemble with the small evening bag.
Nervously, she walked into the hotel restaurant and gave a name to the uniformed girl at the small desk. It seemed that the gentleman had already arrived and Julie, feeling like prey, was escorted to the table.
He did not stand up but he did smile in welcome and he extended a hand to indicate that she should sit. His voice was like treacle flowing over cut glass.
“I am so glad you could come.”
Julie said that she did not have much choice.
“Oh, let’s not be like that. Everything has consequences and, in the circumstances, I would say that an expensive dinner is a lot better than you might have expected.”
It was good food and wine but the evening was tense to say the very least. He alternated between his genial “mine host” manner and naked threats about sending the evidence which he had to her husband, the police, her boss and her church. Julie was desperate to explain her position – desperate for a way out.
“Look you know it was only once and you know I would have paid it back. You don’t have to make me sound like some master criminal. And I don’t see what it has to do with the church.”
It was all to no avail.
“You mind a stall at the annual church fete. Do you dip your fingers in the till there as well?
“And we are not talking petty cash are we? You embezzled nearly £10,000 or, to be precise, according to the accounts which you know I have, it was £9,478. Of course, if you want to go to the police and argue your case…”
She shook her head. They both knew that, if she had any other alternative, she would not be here tonight.
He seemed to get a thrill from making the evening last as long as possible. He dawdled over the liqueur coffee and mints and when he finally could not draw it out any farther, he asked if she wanted anything else.
She shook her head.
“OK, I think it’s time to go upstairs, don’t you?”
This had not been in the plan. She had agreed to dinner. He could not spring this on her.
“You said just dinner and then we would be straight.”
His easy manner was back now.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I can call you a cab myself and I promise I won’t send out any emails to anyone until tomorrow morning.”
More threats. But he would not get her that easily.
“I have to get home for the girls.”
Julie had always thought that flared nostrils were purely a literary device. She had never seen it happen in real life. His manner flipped and he gave a good impression of a man who is doing all he can to keep himself from smashing someone’s head to pulp.
“You do not lie to me! I was parked up at the end of your road when your two little darlings went next door with their sweet little overnight bag. What is going to happen to them when you lose your job and go to prison? Will you make them come and visit you amongst all the dope dealers and all the other thieves?”
They both stood up and his arm went around her as he escorted her to the lift. In the lift, the hand slipped downwards and settled upon her bottom where it remained until they were outside of Room 1023. She had no idea why she concentrated on the room number.
Once in the room she felt extremely vulnerable knowing that he could do whatever he wished with no chance of interruptions or witnesses. He sat down on the bed.
“Now this can go one of two ways. If you are a good girl and do as you are told, you don’t have to get hurt at all. Are you going to be a good girl for me?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t hear you.”
“Yes.”
“Say it properly for me.”
He was making a meal of this.
“Yes, I am going to be a good girl.”
He told her to undress and she knew that she had fought all the battles which she could fight. She had no more weapons left – not that she ever had any weapons at all.
She shed her stole and the black dress leaving her in shoes, stockings and her black full-length slip. Her breathing rate was rising despite all her efforts to control it and she seemed to be hot and cold at the same time. How had it come to this? What on earth was she doing?
She slipped the delicate straps from her naked shoulders and let the slip fall about her feet then she kicked it free and took her feet from the shoes. Now came a moment of indecision. Some men like stockings and some want underwear left on till the last moment. What should she do? He saw her plight and smiled broadly.
“I think just the stockings can stay on.”
Feeling exactly like a whore, she took off her black bra and pants then stood with her fingers entwined in front of her pubis with its dark triangle of curls like some schoolgirl in a bad porn film.
He made her come to him on the bed and she had to slowly undress him as if she were the servant of some Eastern Potentate – was there any cliché which he did not know?
Then he rolled on top of her and it was all about his pleasure. She might as well have been a cheap hooker bought for the evening or even one of those rubber dolls. She had to give him credit for staying power or rather his ability to rest, recover and start again. As part of getting prepared for the evening, she had taken great care of her hair and he seemed to make a special point of reducing her to a cat dragged backwards through a hedge. To make it worse, he spread any spare semen all over her head and, of course, it dried and became like a hairful of glue.
Eventually, he lay back on the bed and ceased touching her.
“OK, you can fuck off now. And don’t forget I can do this any time I like.”
She did not have much fight left in her but she did challenge this assertion. He was not impressed.
“Listen to me little bird. I own you. Do you get that? I snap my fingers and you come running. If I tell you to run naked down the High Street you do it or you know what happens. Do we understand each other?”
What could she say but a defeated, yes?
She picked up her knickers from the floor and he told her very firmly to leave them.
“Just the dress and shoes. The rest are my little souvenirs.”
So, Julie went down to Reception having done the best she could with her hair but he did not allow her to go into the bathroom and use any cold water. She phoned a taxi and waited for it on the steps hoping against hope that no-one thought she was a whore looking for work.
She had no idea what time she arrived home and she did not even have the energy to shower before bed so she slipped, naked beneath the duvet still reeking of his bodily fluids.
She really envied Dave who got to stay on at The Cliff Top but he had paid for the room so at least one of them should spend the night there. As she drifted into an exhausted sleep she wondered if there was a gene for kinks. If there was, she hoped she had not passed it down to anyone.
