‘Can I buy you another drink?’ he shouted, his words barely audible.
Before she was able to answer, she felt another hand on her. This time from her friend, Elodie, grabbing her arm and pulling her away. She was reunited with her trio of friends a moment later.
‘What’d you do that for?’ she asked, surprised to hear how slurred her words were.
‘He was trying to put something in your drink earlier,’ Elodie replied, leaning into her ear. ‘I told him to fuck off when he bought you the first one. I told the bar staff to replace it.’
She looked down at her drink, wondering if she would see any indication that it had been spiked, but then remembered what Elodie had just told her, that she was looking at the wrong cup.
‘I told you, you need to be more careful,’ Elodie lambasted as she placed a hand on her hips. ‘You need to be more vigilant, girl.’
She swatted away her friend’s hand dismissively, then turned her attention back to the man, who had been lingering sheepishly on the outskirts of the group, dancing, shuffling his feet together out of time to the music, pretending not to hear any of their conversation though his body language suggested he’d heard the whole thing. Then she shuffled towards him, her legs and knees faltering. She’d been standing in her heels for too long. Either that or it was the alcohol coursing through her veins. She didn’t know how much she’d had, but she was experienced enough to know that she was still in control of her body, still in control of her faculties. And as she approached the man, she passed him her drink to hold for a moment, then shimmied her skirt down her thighs till it was at a responsible level. Once she was happy with it, she took the drink, turned her back on him, and began dancing on him, gyrating, their bodies separated by less than an inch, gradually coming closer and closer into contact, until she felt his groin against her backside. She could feel the warmth and stench of his breath on the back of her neck. She also sensed hesitation, a brief pause as he waited to put his hands on her body. First, one on her waist, then the other wrapped around her chest, as though she was his possession, his trophy for the evening. He had claimed her, and she was happy to let him think he had.
Let him think that his luck was in.
As they danced, she began to feel his semi-erect penis pressing harder into her, prodding her like a child trying to wake a sleeping dog. He could prod and poke all he liked, but she’d decided this dog would remain asleep.
She made eye contact with her friends, enjoying the comfort and security of her new companion. Occasionally, he tried to kiss her neck, and even shoot his chance on the lips, but each time she would pull away, continuing to tease him. Revenge for trying to spike her drink. She knew what her friends would be thinking right now: that she was stupid, reckless, that she wasn’t in control and didn’t know what danger she was putting herself in. But she knew, all right. She’d experienced far worse than this. On the balance of things, dancing with a man in a nightclub was tame compared to what she’d seen, been through, experienced. Her friends weren’t ready to hear about that.
Maybe one day. But not now, not when her closest friend was eyeballing her every movement, trying to summon the courage to intervene.
She and her new companion stayed like that for the next ten minutes, their bodies locked together, each enjoying their time for very different reasons. Until, eventually, after seeing enough, Elodie told her it was time to go. They had an Uber waiting outside for them, and they didn’t want to miss it.
As she was pulled away, the man, who was now hungrier than ever, chased after her, followed her like a child, holding her hand towards the exit.
‘Leave her alone!’ Elodie yelled in the man’s face, trying to tear them apart.
‘Can I come with you?’ he asked.
The tone in his voice was beyond hopeful, almost to the point of begging.
‘Fuck off,’ Elodie replied.
‘What about you come back with me?’
Desperation laced his words. His last attempt at getting lucky.
She decided to dangle the carrot in front of him.
‘You’ve got my number,’ she said, as she was pulled away from the club. ‘Text me.’
As the cab door closed behind her, she watched the man dig into his pockets and pull out his phone.
CHAPTER TWO
Even in a deep sleep, she looks beautiful. Gentle, elegant, angelic. Her eyelids flutter softly as her eyes move beneath them, the only sign of life in her otherwise lifeless body. Even her chest movements are barely noticeable beneath her skin-tight black dress.
I crouch down beside her onto my knees, my feet flat against the surface, so my knees are at a forty-five-degree angle, tucking my elbows into my hips, leaning forward, hovering my ear over her mouth and nose, listening to the faintest whispers of breath as they caress my cheek. Then I run the pad of my index finger over her neck, moving from the side opposite all the way towards me, feeling the cartilage and bones move underneath. I stop when I feel the pulse, the only thing keeping her alive, moving the blood from one part of her body to the next. Weak, yet steady, rhythmic. In the silence, it’s amplified, drowning out the sound of my breathing, the sound of the street below.
Dum-dum.
Dum-dum.
Dum-dum.
All it would take is one nick of the blade, one deep laceration into the vein, into the tunnel of life, to send all that beautiful, perfect blood spilling from her body.
But not yet. There are things I must do first. Things I must experience. Before I progress to the next stage in our time together, I want to take in a final mental image of her in this state. Dirty, filthy, unclean – whorish. That will all have to change. I must return her to her angelic state.
I lift myself away from her body and roll her onto her front. The back of her dress is fastened with a zip, the hem cutting into her flesh. But there’s hardly any body fat on her so it doesn’t spill out of the sides. Slowly, I lower the dress all the way to the small of her back until it becomes loose enough to free her from it. Delicate, gentle movements are required. Nothing too rash, too drastic. Time, more than anything, is the most important. I want to enjoy this, revel in it, remember it for the rest of my life.
Once I’ve carefully removed the dress from her body, neatly folding it into a small square and placing it next to her high-heeled shoes, I look at her figure. Tonight she has chosen not to wear a bra and has let them all hang out. But I’m pleased to see she is still wearing underwear – thin, lacy, almost nothing to it – that she has saved some dignity at least. I remove what’s left of her clothing and place it beside the dress. Now she’s completely naked, glowing beneath the lights. I bathe in the sight of her petite figure, fully formed and proportionate in all the right places. Her breasts list to one side and now I can see the rise and fall of her chest. Everything about her is perfect. Her toenails, her feet, her thin calves, her thin thighs, her vulva, the two poles of her hip bones sticking out, her small, neatly tucked belly button, all the way up to her visible ribcage and collar bones. It’s all on show. And it’s all for me.
But it’s not perfect-perfect.
There are a few niggles, a few minor defects. Like the two-day stubble on her legs and armpits. Like the small patch of hair on her pubic bone. The thick black hair on her forearms that she’s always been self-conscious about. All the way up to the thin white hairs that have formed on her neck and top lip. The chipped finger- and toenail varnish that desperately needs replacing. The lazily applied mascara that needs to be removed. These are all just blemishes and irritants that diminish her beauty.
There is still a lot of work to be done until she can become the angel she was always meant to be.
Fortunately, there’s plenty of time.
CHAPTER THREE
Tomek nursed his second pint of the evening, snapping his mouth open and closed to savour the taste. Tonight he was trying a new beer. Some IPA, hipster, fruity-flavoured bullshit made with love and an admirable yet naïve company ethos that planted a tree with every order. But despite his snobbish attitude towards anything that wasn’t a pint of Heineken or Guinness, he found he quite liked it. He’d broadened his horizons slightly, and he was enjoying it. Though he didn’t want to get ahead of himself and try everything on the menu; he’d only tried the planet-saving beer because Abigail had recommended it. Tonight was her special night, and he didn’t want to upset her. So much so that he’d booked the venue she’d asked for, drunk the beer she’d recommended, and worn the outfit she’d chosen for him. His original plan had comprised a smart, blue-and-pink striped shirt with a pair of cream chinos, to which she’d said, ‘You’re not fucking going out looking like that.’ Much to his dismay; it wasn’t like he hadn’t bought the outfit especially, like he had put no thought into it. There was a half an hour in M&S he would never get back.
In the end, she had selected a plain white T-shirt beneath a high-collared jumper for him. It was horrendous and itchy, and he felt like a twat – an uber twat – sitting there in the middle of the restaurant, looking like he’d come directly from the eighties. But it was her special night, and he didn’t want to say anything.
As he set the beer on the table, he rubbed the itch on his neck with his finger, and turned his attention to Kasia. Tonight she’d put on her nicest pair of jeans and a small satin shirt, accompanied by a full layer of make-up. She was in the middle of texting someone, a friend presumably, and had been lost in the device for the past ten minutes.
‘How was school today, Kash?’ he asked.
‘All right.’
As always. Either that or it was “fine”. The vernacular of a teenager going through a turbulent and tumultuous time. Tomek thought he had probably been as opaque as her at that age.
‘What classes d’you have?’
‘The usual.’
‘Great. Which ones?’
She finished sending the text message – or Snapchat, or Facebook, or Instagram, or TikTok; whatever it was she was using – before giving him her full attention.
‘Erm… maths, chemistry, biology, physics and PE.’
‘Wow. That’s a full-on day. Especially with all those boring subjects.’
Now he understood why she wasn’t in the mood to discuss it.
