Killer Queen: A Painted Faces Novel (12 page)

 Fred put her hand to her mouth and began to
apologise profusely. “Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that.”

I wanted her to know that I wasn’t angry when I
said, “It's okay, Fred. For such a pretty little thing, you've got some
strength in you. Ow.” I rubbed at my jaw, because the slap had hurt.

“What happened?” said Nora in surprise. Everyone in
the room was staring at us.

“I think I offended Fred's sensitive nature,” I
quipped.

“It's nothing. I’m going to my room for a bit,” Fred
explained, and then quickly disappeared. I wanted to go after her, but I
thought giving her some time to cool down would probably be a good idea. Me and
my dirty mouth had deserved that slap, and I would deal with the sore jaw,
because I had enjoyed that little exchange immensely. I wasn’t sure how I knew,
but the way Fred reacted to my words spoke volumes.

I had her exactly where I wanted her.

July 4
^th
,
2012.

Soundtrack:
“Close to You” by The Carpenters

When
Fred was notably absent during the next few days, my confidence started to
dwindle. I’d thought things were going the way I wanted them to, but she was
avoiding me. Had I taken things too far?

I was prone to misjudging situations.

Since I’d just moved to Dublin, I didn’t know many
people, so my opportunities for socialising were limited. It wasn’t a good
thing. I should have gone out and made new friends. I had been known to befriend
random strangers in strange cities, as it happened. But I didn’t do that.

It was the music that had started it. I’d been
sifting through my old albums to create a new set list for my show and ended up
listening to The Carpenters. Mum had always adored them, and although many of
their songs were sweet and romantic, I sensed a melancholy beneath the surface.
It dragged me under, and my newfound stable period hit a bit of a pothole.

One good thing was that there was no alcohol in my
apartment, so I couldn’t get drunk. I did, however, start to let the guilt roll
in again. My mind was a horrific wash of memories, and I began to wonder about
the thirteen-year-old boy Kelvin had gotten his hands on. I felt immense pain
for that boy because I knew what he had been through. I knew what he would be
going through for the rest of his life.

He would never be the same again, just like I would
never be able to find the happiness lovely redheaded Karla had wished for me. I
hadn’t gone outside in at least two days, hadn’t even bothered to pull the
curtains, when there was a knock on my door. I had my stereo system playing
Leonard Cohen on repeat as I lay in bed in lounge pants, a T-shirt, and a
kimono an old lover had gifted me while I’d been performing in Melbourne.

I didn’t want to answer the door, but I thought it
might be Phil, and I knew he wouldn’t stop until he got inside. Phil was
nothing if not determined, and he cared for me a great deal. Sometimes I
wondered if I deserved his care at all.

When I finally answered the door, I was pleasantly
surprised to find Fred there. She was holding a plate of cupcakes and looked as
pretty as ever.

“Apology cupcakes, if you'll accept?” she said with
a smile.

“Ah, Fred, you're a sight for sore eyes. Come in.
And what's this about an apology? I wasn't aware we were having a quarrel.” I
placed an arm around her waist and led her inside. She was a bright, smiling,
clean-smelling beacon of hope, and I wanted to grab on to her and not let go.

“Well, I thought that because I hadn't heard from
you since the happy slapping incident, you were giving me the cold shoulder,”
she explained, her eyes straying shyly to her shoes.

Immediately, hope bloomed in my chest. What a pair
we made. She thought I was annoyed at her for the slap, and I thought she was
steering clear of me because I had a dirty, perverted little mouth, and I
couldn’t help but to use it on her.

“Nonsense, a little bit of a slap between friends is
all in good fun.” I smiled as she went to put the cupcakes in the kitchen.
Instantly, I was feeling better. Perhaps this was why I wanted to be with Fred
so desperately. When she was around, I forgot about my guilt. She made me feel
cheerful, light, and yes, incredibly horny. It could very well have been my sex
drive overriding my melancholy.

I reclined on my
chaise longue
while Fred
pottered around the apartment as though she lived here. It didn’t bother me one
bit. I liked how comfortable she was in my place. I knew she must have noticed
something was off with me, especially since it was the middle of the day, and I
still hadn’t dressed or pulled the curtains. She did it for me, allowing some
light in and opening the window. A gust of fresh air wafted through the room.

I hated how my mind could make me neglect the simple
pleasures life had to offer, like fresh breezes and daylight. I stared at the
open window, cursing myself for having wasted the last few days wandering
around in the recesses of my past memories.

Pulling them apart. Agonising over the details.
Plotting justice. Realising justice had already been served. Feeling empty.
Feeling angry for what had been stolen from me.

The kettle started to boil as Fred went about making
tea. I drew myself out of my thoughts and tried to focus on the present. The
present I decided to focus on was Fred’s shapely derriere in the tight pencil
skirt she was wearing. Instant mood enhancer. She set some tea and cupcakes
down on the coffee table, and I noticed how she’d iced the word “sorry” onto
the frosting. She really had thought I was pissed off about the slap, and her
attempt at making amends was adorable.

“Oh, look at these, Fred. How delightful,” I
declared as I lifted one to my mouth and took a bite. I’d spent the last few days
living off cereal and dry toast, so the cupcakes were a welcome change. Fred
settled herself down beside me, her hand coming to my shoulder. I sank into the
touch and brought my eyes to hers. It’s odd that we never notice how much we
need someone to touch us until it’s happening.

“Are you okay, Viv? You seem a little out of sorts,”
she said softly.

So she had definitely noticed something wasn’t right
with me. I decided to be honest when I explained, “I'm just going through one
of my low periods. I'm either happy or I'm sad, Fred. There's no middle ground
with me. The life of a travelling performer can be a lonely one. Sometimes it
gets you down.”

I didn’t feel worthy of the level of pure empathy in
her eyes. It was like she was suddenly understanding that the flirty,
dirty-mouthed Nicholas was not all there was to me. It also startled me that
she didn’t seem repelled by that idea. She looked like she wanted to get to
know the other side, and I couldn’t understand why. I barely wanted to be
myself when I was sad, let alone have others know that side of me.

“Do you have, like, manic depression or something?”
she asked, and immediately winced. I could tell she wasn’t trying to pry,
though; she was simply curious.

“Something like that. But thank you for bringing the
cupcakes. They've cheered me right up,” I said, and gave her a grateful smile.
The fact that she had interrupted my wallowing was a godsend, and I was feeling
better the longer she sat beside me, smelling divine and looking even better.

 “Hey, it's my pleasure. If you ever need someone to
talk to, I'm just next door. What's the point of having a best friend if she
can't cheer you up when you're down?”

God, this girl was going to kill me with her sheer
kindness. There was no façade about Fred. What you saw was what you got, and I
was beginning to deeply admire that about her. I smiled at her and took her
hand in mine, then replied with a simple, “Thank you, darling.”

She glanced away shyly before asking with humour,
“Are those the dulcet tones of Leonard Cohen I hear? You are a true cliché of
sadness, Viv.”

Ah, my music was still playing in the bedroom.
Leonard sang about there being a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets
in. I absently wondered just how many cracks I had and if Fred could fill them
with her light. I didn’t want to leave her to go and turn it off, so I simply
left it to play. I didn’t want to let go of her hand. In fact, I even began to
rub circles into the centre of her palm, craving physical contact. It can be so
lonely trapped inside one’s own head for days.

“You're a ray of sunshine, Freda. Thank you so much
for taking the time to come and see me,” I said, levelling my eyes firmly on
hers.

“It's nothing. I like being around you, Nicholas,”
she admitted, and her gaze widened by the tiniest fraction, like she hadn’t
meant to disclose the fact that she actually enjoyed my company. Everything
inside me delighted in her admission, and I moved my body a fraction closer to
hers.

 “I really like it when you say my name, you know,”
I murmured.

And I did. In fact, I was dying for her to moan it
while I made her come. The sexual undertones to what I said must have been
clear, because she started to ramble with a speedy change of subject.

“I'm sorry if I can be a bit abrupt sometimes, or if
the things I say hurt your feelings. It's just my way. I can't seem to help
it.”

“I like your way. Don't ever change,” I told her, my
voice low as my eyes traced the sexy curve of her chest. She was showing a nice
hint of cleavage, and I was enjoying the view. I remembered something she’d
said to me while we’d been hanging out the previous week. I’d been joking (but
deadly serious) when I’d mentioned wanting to cop a feel of her ample bosom.
She’d been all blasé and told me to go right ahead. Instead, I’d said that I’d
wait until a more private moment.

And this moment was about as private as it got. So I
chanced my luck.

“Remember when you said I could cop a feel last
week? I think I'd like to take you up on the offer now. It will lift my
spirits.”

She gave me a mock look of outrage. “You, sir, are
an opportunistic scoundrel.”

I was determined, and I wasn’t going to allow her to
scurry away by using humour as armour.  “Relax, Fred,” I murmured. “You'll like
this, I promise.”

She froze as I leaned forward to bring my body over
hers. My every pore was alight, and her silence spurred me on. She wasn’t
arguing, which led me to believe she wanted me to touch her. I brought my hand
to her neck and then stroked downward, sliding my palm across her collarbone before
moving down to her chest. I softly fingered the outline of her breast, a smile
touching my lips, and then I went for it, cupping her perfect tit in my hand.
Her breathing became laboured, her bright eyes sparkling, and then her throat
moved as she swallowed. I stared at her hotly as I used both my hands and felt
her up. Her body was incredible, and I wanted to savour every inch of it. Who
knew when I’d next have the chance?

She swallowed again, and her eyes fluttered shut for
a moment. I could tell she was turned on, and I was hard as a rock in my pants.

 “I love this outfit on you, Fred. Your body is a
feast for the senses,” I told her huskily.

Then I grabbed her by the hips and moved her body so
she was under me. My need grew feverish as I shoved her skirt up to her waist
and pulled her legs around my hips. When I sank into the space between her
thighs, I let out a long breath. We fit perfectly. I wanted her to know how
aroused I was, so I ground my hard-on into her soft core. She gasped a sweet,
beautiful sound, and then I lost it. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I
attacked her neck with my mouth, and her hands sank into my hair as she arched
her back. Then her hands were all over me, and I relished every touch. She
pressed her palms into my back before gripping onto my shoulders. I brought my
hand between her legs, tantalising her as I felt my way up her inner thigh
before cupping her pussy. She moaned and panted.

 “Are you wet for me, Fred?” I asked her, my voice
dark with satisfaction.

“Mm-hmm,” was all she said in reply.

“God, you're so fucking lovely,” I swore, and then I
was sliding my fingers past the cotton fabric of her knickers and making
contact with her skin. She felt so silky and warm. The fact that she was
already this turned on pleased me, because I hadn’t even done anything yet.
Finding her clit, I began to rub her slowly, working her up into a frenzy.

“You smell great…you feel bloody fantastic,” I
groaned, my breaths coming quick and fast. Her hair spread around her like a
halo. She looked so beautiful beneath me, and I couldn’t help but sink my face
into her hair and relish its softness as I continued to work her toward an
orgasm.

When I’d had my fill of her hair, I captured her
mouth with mine, plunging my tongue inside and savouring the heady taste of
her. She moaned into my mouth as she squirmed under me, and I felt like I might
come in my pants. This was one of the most erotic moments of my life, hands
down.

I tried not to think on why that was, because it
wasn’t the act that made it so erotic — it was the woman I was with.

I could tell she was on the cusp of orgasm when I
dragged my mouth from hers and told her, “I want to watch you when you come.
Christ, Fred, your lips are like little pillows of heaven, and your mouth, God,
your fucking mouth.”