Taming the Beast (29 page)

‘You are truly depraved,’ Sarah said.

‘You make me depraved.’ Daniel pressed his hand and arm to Sarah’s mouth. He kept talking while she cleaned him with her tongue. ‘I feel perverted just being around you, and then you tell me that you’ve done all these terrible, wanton things. You’re just a baby and you’ve had more lovers than I have in my life. You’re… what are you thinking? You have to tell me everything you’re thinking,
everything
.’

Sarah was sweating inside her fleecy suit. She was not as romantic as he was, she couldn’t tell him that she was thinking about whether Jamie would ever talk to her again. She supposed that Daniel would consider her thoughts, and her dishonesty about them, as signs that she loved him less. Maybe she did. Or maybe, she just wanted to keep something for herself. A lifeboat to climb into when Daniel overwhelmed her.

‘I was thinking that you might be the reincarnation of the Marquis de Sade,’ she said.

‘Oh, yes?’ Sarah could see he was intrigued by the evocation of such a fiend into their bed.

‘I read a book about him when I was seventeen, and I showed some bits to Jamie and Jess, and they freaked. They thought he was like, Satan, or something. I remember, even then, I thought of you
when I read it. He got off on the thought of corrupting a much young lover and said that you have to do violence to the object of your desire so when it surrenders the pleasure is greater.’

Daniel lay down beside Sarah and put his hand up her top, scratching tight circles around her belly button. ‘Why were you reading stuff like that when you were seventeen? When I was that age I was reading detective comics.’

‘This bloke I met at a Goth club thought that if I read it I might be more open to “ingesting his solidified essence”. I took the book and ran away.’

‘And you call me depraved!’

‘There was a story about a man who locked a woman in a dungeon and didn’t feed her. He watched her constantly, examining her body as she passed through the stages of starvation, and he played with himself over her, but it wasn’t until she was dead that he allowed himself to come. That sounds like something you’d do.’

Daniel traced a ring of fire on her belly. ‘I would
not
do that. You’ve got me all wrong.’

‘Do I?’

‘I am offended by the comparison. I’m not a bad person, Sarah, not at all. Ask the School Board or the Church fundraising committee. Ask any of the parents of my students. They’ll all vouch for me.’

‘Ah, but that’s just a cover. Like how Ted Bundy wore a cast on his arm, or how the killer in midday movies is always dressed as a deliveryman. Women trust you because you are quiet and reserved and you look as though you would be horrified at even the thought of sexual relations outside of a marriage sanctioned by God. A hedonistic, hooker fucking, sex fiend disguised as a gentle, God-fearing headmaster.’

‘It isn’t a disguise, Sarah. That’s who I am.’

‘Bullshit, it’s an act. Out in the real world you play this respectable middle-aged man, then you come inside with me and lock the doors and you turn into a monster. But nobody would suspect would they? I never did, when you were my teacher. I used to think you were so handsome and that you probably went home and had married sex under the covers every Saturday night. I thought you were such a nice man, Mr Carr.’

‘
Dr
Carr, thank you, Miss Clark.’ He poked his finger hard into her navel. ‘You know, that
is
what I was like. Until you.’

‘Right, little girl me corrupted you. You big creep.’

‘You did. The way I love you, the way I want you, your presence and your body and your laugh, make me want to find new ways to be with you. I want to peel back your skin and see what’s underneath. Not just see, but taste and feel and smell what is under your skin.’

Daniel kissed her in an unexpectedly tender way. His gentle mouth was at odds with the cruel fingernail sticking into her belly. She ignored the discomfort of it and kissed him back. After a few moments he began to moan, but still did not remove his hand from her stomach. Sarah kissed him harder and he responded by humping her fleece-covered thigh.

‘Oh, right,’ Sarah said, breaking off the kiss. ‘I’m the depraved one, like I’m making you rub your dick against my leg. Why don’t you admit that you’re a kinky freak?’

Daniel stopped rubbing against her. He lay beside her with his hand flat on her stomach, and smiled in a way that made him look very old, and very sweet. ‘I used to think I was having kinky sex if Lisa and I did it in the morning instead of at bedtime. Then I made love to a tiny schoolgirl on a winter afternoon and everything changed. A whole world of possibilities opened up. There isn’t a place or an action or a time that would seem wrong with you.’

‘I love you.’

Daniel poked her belly button.

‘Why do you keep doing that?’

He laughed and poked harder. Sarah started to cry. Not from physical pain of any kind – he was only poking her navel after all – but from the realisation that he would always get his own way no matter how clever Sarah thought she was.

Poke.

‘Stop poking me! Why are you being so mean?’

‘If you don’t like what I’m doing, you should stop me.’ Daniel jabbed her again.

He had won. She slapped his hand out of the way and got on top of him, forcing his arms down with her knees. He let her think she had him for about half a second, and then he rolled her over and twisted her arms behind her back. He told her that he liked it when she fought back and she tried to tell him that she wasn’t playing, but he talked over the top of her. She said something that was sort of
stop
and nearly
please
, but came out sounding like a whimper. He slapped her face and told her to stop being a baby. He said
tell me what you want
. She couldn’t speak. He slapped her again and said
you have to say it or I won’t know
. He slapped her until she couldn’t do anything but squeal and then, just to really shake her up, he got off her and sat on the side of the bed without touching her at all.

‘Please,’ Sarah said.

‘Please what?’ He sounded very, very far away.

Please what? She was going to black out. Please touch me. Please leave me alone. Please, Daniel, Please. Please do that thing you do that makes me forget, so I don’t feel bad, please don’t be so mean, please knock me out again, or kill me, or kiss me. Please don’t make me hurt. Her voice, when she spoke again, was clear and loud.

‘Please let me call Jamie.’

He stared at her until she caved in and closed her eyes. Then he got up and went away.

Sarah waited in the bedroom for several minutes, and when he didn’t return, she got up and went to find him. The apartment was empty. She took the elevator down to the car park and confirmed that his car was gone. In the lift on the way back up, a woman in a sun hat asked if Sarah was okay. Sarah’s voice wouldn’t work, so she just nodded and coughed and the woman looked away.

Back inside, Sarah realised why the woman had been concerned. Her hair was a black tangle, individual strands sticking up as if glued or gelled. Her face was sickly pale with red blotches, yellow bruises and purple bags. She was wearing the pink singlet and navy pants and her arms were black and blue. She looked like a junkie or a rock star. Where was that healthy, mysterious glow that was supposed to come when you were in love?

Daniel was gone.

Sarah showered and shaved her legs, underarms and bikini line; it was disgusting how prickly she was. She washed and conditioned her hair, combed out all the knots and carefully plaited it, tying the end with a red ribbon. There was Dettol under the sink and Sarah splashed it all over her body, gritting her teeth at the pain as it fizzed up on the million cuts and abrasions.

The apartment was trashed. Sarah spent an hour and a half cleaning, and then had to shower again because she felt all dirty. She made the bed with clean sheets and even picked some camellias from the balcony pot and put them in a vase on the dining table.

Daniel was still gone. It had been hours.

She smoked three cigarettes, then picked up the phone and dialled Jamie’s number. Shelley answered, called her a whore and hung up. Sarah drank two large glasses of Wild Turkey, straight up,
and smoked, watching the front door. Then she called Jamie again. Shelley told her that if she called again she would take out a restraining order. Sarah had another drink and made another call.

‘About fucking time!’

‘Don’t yell at me, Mike.’

She could hear him exhaling, trying to get his breathing under control. ‘I’ve been so worried. Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine. Have you seen Jamie?’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m at Daniel’s. How’s Jamie?’

‘Sarah, baby, I miss you, and I’m worried because that bloke is a fucking psycho. Just let me see you.
Please
.’

‘I really need to know how Jamie is.’

He sighed. ‘He’s shattered, Sarah. What did you expect? He totally cracked up, and he’s seeing a psychiatrist like, every day. And he’s on these drugs that make him sleep all the time.’

Sarah forced the words out. ‘Can you make sure he knows that I love him?’

‘No, Sarah, I fucking won’t.’

She started to cry and beg, but then the front door opened. Daniel’s legs, and Daniel’s hands holding so many white roses that she could not see his head. She hung up the phone and Daniel’s roses rained down over her tears.

Daniel reacted to Sarah’s sorrow with what she at first thought was compassion. She had been afraid of his anger when he found out she was missing Jamie, but his voice stayed low and sweet. He showered her with roses and kisses and soothing words. He showered her with understanding. It was only hours later, after she had cried her heart out to him and confessed the secrets of her soul, that she realised he was tricking her.

‘Poor darling,’ he said. ‘You’re so conflicted.’

Sarah couldn’t respond. She was underneath him, crushed by him. She had cried so much that her throat ached and her eyes were swollen shut. His calmness was a gift. A gift like the roses he had brought her. The roses that surrounded them on the kitchen floor.

‘I think,’ Daniel went on, ‘that you should leave.’

‘No,’ Sarah croaked, her eyes filling with fresh tears.

‘Yes, Sarah. I think it’s best. If you’re thinking about Jamie so much, you should go and be with him. If you don’t want to be here, if you don’t want to be with me, then I won’t keep you.’

‘No.’

‘No? No what, Sarah? I didn’t even ask you a fucking question! What is
no
?’

‘No, I don’t want to leave. Just, no to everything you’re saying. I’m not conflicted. I love you. I don’t want to leave; I’m not going to leave. Ever.’ It hurt her to say, but once she had forced the words out she felt better. Daniel’s kisses started again and he supported his weight on his elbows so that the pressure on her ribs and chest was relieved.

‘Okay, Sarah, okay,’ he said. ‘But if I ever,
ever
, find out that you have seen Jamie, or spoken to him, then that will be the end.’

‘The end of what?’

Daniel got up onto his knees, one leg on either side of hers. He picked up a rose and held it up in front of him, hovering over Sarah’s chest. In one sharp movement he stabbed himself in the throat with the thorn. Hard enough that a pin prick of blood appeared and began to swell. He dropped the rose on to Sarah’s stomach and closed his eyes.

‘You’ll stab me with a rose thorn?’ Sarah tried for flippancy, part of her still holding on to her inherent dislike of dramatics. A bigger
part of her – the part that knew it was more than dramatics with him – won out. Her words sounded weak and afraid.

‘I won’t lay a finger on you, my darling. I’ll drive you over to Jamie’s house. I’ll wish you both well. And then–’ He held up a finger and drew it sharply across his throat. The small spot of blood spread, giving his throat the appearance of being cut.

Sarah knew she would never leave him. Not because she was afraid he would kill himself – that threat was more irritating than frightening – but because even when he was being a manipulative, cruel, psychotic bastard; even when he had a dirty streak of blood across his throat; even when he was threatening her and his face was ugly with cruelty;
even then
, she wanted him and loved him and couldn’t stop herself from telling him this. Even when he pressed the rose thorns into her body and slammed her head into the floor and called her a fickle little fool, she couldn’t say anything except
Yes
.

The intensity of the first two weeks could not be sustained. Physically, they were both wrecked. They stood in front of the mirror on the Monday of the third week and pointed out each other’s injuries with awe. Sarah was more visibly damaged than Daniel, but he assured her that his bones were aching more than she could imagine. Daniel promised Sarah he would go easy on her for a while, to allow the abrasions and bruises to heal properly; Sarah promised Daniel she would let him sleep for more than three hours at a time, and that she would stop expecting acrobatics every time they made love.

Sarah was worried about what she would do when Daniel went back to work. Not only was she unemployed, but she had missed too much uni to finish the semester and would have to wait until next year to re-enrol.

Daniel was pleased. ‘You can be my slave.’

‘Just what I’ve always wanted,’ Sarah said, and they both knew she was not being at all sarcastic.

On Daniel’s first day back at work, Sarah called him fifteen times. When he got home, she was waiting for him at the front door, naked and holding a glass of scotch. He closed the door, locked it, put his keys and briefcase on the front table, hung his jacket on the hook by the door. Without looking at her, he took the offered drink and finished it in two large gulps. His glass deposited on the table, he turned to Sarah and looked her up and down. His face was very red.

‘Aren’t you going to ask me how my day was?’

‘I don’t much care. I’m just glad you’re back.’ She stepped towards him but was stopped by his outstretched hand.