The Girl Behind the Mask (21 page)

Chapter 30

Ten minutes later, the taxi driver pulled his cab up to the kerb and clicked the off button on his meter. I was sure he was watching me in the rear-view mirror as Steven found the change to pay our fare. When Steven told the driver where we wanted to go that night, he said he knew the address well. Did he know what went on inside there as well? The way he looked at me seemed to suggest he did. My black dress didn’t feel much like protection any more.

As gallantly as he had helped me into the cab, Steven now helped me out. I wobbled in my heels. I was unaccustomed to wearing them. Steven put his arm out to steady me.

‘Who told you about this place?’ I asked at last.

‘I overheard some of my students talking,’ he said.

‘Your students?’

‘They’re a wild bunch. Just like your cohort were.’

I thought about my undergraduate friends. They’d liked to drink and party, but swing? I didn’t think so.

‘Stop worrying, Sarah. You were the one who suggested we try this in the first place.’

He was right. But now that we were at the club, I wanted to turn and run.

‘If you hate it, we’ll leave.’

‘Is that a promise?’ I asked. He nodded distractedly.

‘You need to put the mask on,’ Steven reminded me as he pressed the doorbell. I snapped the white mask into place. Despite this gesture to anonymity, I had never felt more vulnerable in my life. I felt so obvious. As if the eyes of the world were upon me.

Behind the plain wooden door – as anonymous as that belonging to any other warehouse on the street – stood a bouncer the size of a tree. He was flanked by a small woman dressed in a patent-leather corset. A gold half-mask hid her distinguishing features. Her jet-black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing high-heeled boots that added an extra five inches to her height. So far, so stereotypical. She gave us the once-over and waved us inside.

The shabby exterior of the building had not given any clues as to what was hidden inside. Once, the warehouse had contained sacks of grain. Now the plain brick walls were hung with black velvet drapes. A central dancefloor was ringed with gilded tables and chairs. The lighting was low and dramatic. Each table had its own candelabra, for the most flattering glow.

‘And the hot wax,’ Steven pointed out. I shivered at the thought of wax on bare skin.

We went straight to the bar. When I told Steven I would need plenty of Dutch courage, he bought me a triple vodka tonic. I drank half of it quickly, longing for the alcohol’s disinhibiting qualities to get to work as soon as possible. Steven sipped his own drink thoughtfully.

‘Thirsty?’ he remarked, when he saw I had drained mine in minutes.

I asked myself what I was so afraid of. It was just as the magazine article had suggested. At first, looking around the room, it didn’t seem all that different from an ordinary nightclub. A little more Gothic perhaps but not frighteningly so. The other people at the bar seemed pretty ordinary too, apart from the fact that their faces were hidden. They were dressed for the most part in normal clothes. No one was naked. Most people were standing or sitting and talking. There were a couple of girls on the dancefloor, dancing with each other around their clutch bags. It was just like an ordinary club in that respect too. The men would have to drink a hell of a lot more before they felt emboldened enough to trip the light fantastic. Was this it?

‘Where does everything happen?’ I asked.

‘There are rooms off the dancefloor, dedicated to whatever you fancy. We could take a look.’

‘Give me another minute. And perhaps another drink too.’

Steven obliged.

‘What if some guy comes on to me and I don’t like him?’ I asked as I sipped my new vodka.

I think I wanted Steven to say he would make sure no guys got near me at all, but instead he said, ‘The rules of the club are that no man can touch a woman without her express permission. If you don’t like the look of someone, you don’t have to get involved. You’ll be all right.’

‘They’ll probably be scared off when they see how big and strong you are,’ I teased, hoping to jolt him into protective mode. He didn’t rise to it. ‘But if anything happens here,’ I continued, ‘it stays here, right?’

‘Of course,’ said Steven.

‘And it doesn’t make any difference to us. To our relationship,’ I added, though of course that night was all about making a difference.

From behind my mask, I stared at the other clubbers. They didn’t look too threatening, but I knew I didn’t want any of these strangers to touch me. I had never been attracted to the idea of anonymous sex. For me, sex had always been about the context and that context was always a relationship. It’s not that I was prudish. It’s just that I felt sex was something I only wanted to share with someone I knew I could trust. Not some random man – or woman – in a mask. I assumed, wrongly as it turned out, that Steven ultimately felt the same.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s explore.’

He took my hand and together we did a circuit of the club. Around the dancefloor, in a horseshoe shape, were several curtained-off cabanas. Steven pulled back the curtain of the first one. Inside, a couple reclined on a pile of colourful cushions. They were both more or less dressed. The man was stroking the girl’s thigh. They were laughing. It didn’t seem any more outrageous than the kind of behaviour you’d see in any nightclub up and down the country. Her tight leather skirt was lifted a little higher perhaps. His hand ventured a little further. But there was nothing that made me feel especially voyeuristic.

It should have been obvious which rooms contained the most outrageous action from the number of people who were trying to get in to watch. Steven led me towards a room on the other side of the dancefloor. Here the velvet curtain bulged outwards, thanks to the crowds trying to cram their way inside. Steven went in ahead of me. He was tall. He could see over the people in front of him. I had to content myself with glimpses between other people’s limbs, until a man, with somewhat misguided chivalry, motioned that I should step in front of him for a better view.

In contrast to the rather demure petting scene in the first room, the three people at the centre of attention in this room – two men and a woman – were all naked. Naked apart from a glittering collar around the woman’s neck, that is. The sight of the collar made me shudder and put my hands to my own neck involuntarily. I couldn’t imagine wearing a collar in a million years. In fact I felt tense at the thought. Steven looked back towards me. His eyes shone black behind his mask.

I stared at the threesome. At first, I couldn’t make out what was really going on. On the bottom of the pile was a man. The girl was sitting on his lap and he had his hands around her narrow waist, holding her tightly against him. Meanwhile, a second man knelt between the girl’s legs. When he pressed himself away from her, on his arms, I could see they were still very much connected.

It was double penetration. The guy on the bottom had his cock in the woman’s anus. The guy on top was screwing her missionary style. And she seemed to be enjoying every minute of it. She threw her head back and gave a little grunt with every thrust. She had her arms raised above her head. It was only now I noticed that her wrists were bound together.

‘Oh, oh, oh,’ she sighed.

I was mesmerised. I fixed my gaze on the girl’s open mouth, which seemed, somehow, the most erotic point of the picture. Then I felt something knock against the small of my back and turned to see that the man who had so gallantly let me past him to get a better view was now pleasuring himself. He had undone the front of his leather trousers and set his penis free. With each upward stroke of his hand, the glistening head of his penis knocked against me. I turned to glare at him, but he wasn’t even looking at me. Like everyone else in the room, he was staring at the threesome on the bed. He was bringing himself off like an automaton.

Steven glanced over to see how I was doing. He saw the look on my face, looked towards the object of my horror and, thankfully, pulled me straight out of there.

‘He was . . .’ I started to form my complaint.

‘You can’t blame him. I was ready to do some of that myself.’

‘You were?’

‘It was crazy, wasn’t it?’

‘I suppose.’

‘Didn’t you find it in the least bit arousing?’

Though I didn’t want to, I had to admit I did. I could still picture the woman’s expression of abandon as she opened herself up in every way. I told Steven it was the first time I had ever seen live sex. To start with a threesome like that was more than I had ever imagined.

‘Really?’ said Steven. ‘It’s really your first time?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘When else would I have seen it?
Where
else? You’ve known me since I was twenty-one.’

‘I don’t know. Didn’t you ever watch your friends at school? Your friends at college?’

I shook my head. ‘Did
you
?’

‘Clearly, I had the wrong sort of friends,’ Steven smiled. ‘But you enjoyed it, yes? It wasn’t so bad?’

He smoothed back my hair.

‘Doesn’t it feel liberating to be free to watch something like that? No one is judging you here. No one knows who you are. No one cares.’

‘I don’t feel as anonymous as I thought I would,’ I told him.

‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘Besides, who do we know who would come here? All our friends are too square. Want to see some more?’

I wasn’t sure I did but I nodded. Since he had glanced over to see me under siege from the self-pleasurer in the threesome room, Steven had not taken his arm from around my waist. I’d worried that the sight of seeing other people having sex would make him disconnected, but right then, he seemed to want to be closer to me than he had in a long while. However that affection had been come by, I decided to make the most of it. I took his closeness to mean that underneath the bravado, he was actually finding the whole experience a little discomfiting too and wanted me beside him because I represented safety. I hoped I represented love.

Chapter 31

We entered another cabana. Here, two women sat on a sofa. One of them was dressed like Sally Bowles in
Cabaret
, in a waistcoat, bowler hat and fishnets. It seemed to be a popular look. There were at least three Sally Bowles lookalikes in the club that evening. This one was a particularly good facsimile. Beneath her mask, she had a mouth just like Liza Minnelli’s. I wondered if anyone had ever told her that. Perhaps that was why she chose the costume.

Right now, Liza’s lookalike lay back with her eyes closed. The other woman, who was dressed in a tattered white basque that brought to mind a zombie bride, was gently caressing the space between her legs. She merely stroked the Liza double through her knickers for a while, before she hooked a single finger beneath the knicker elastic and started to take things further. I could not help but stare as the zombie bride started to slide her finger in and out of her friend’s vagina. Perhaps the alcohol was working at last; I was starting to feel, if not comfortable, then at least a good deal less anxious.

‘Have you ever thought about making love with a girl?’ Steven whispered into my hair.

‘Yes,’ I told him.

It seemed like the right thing to say.

‘Tell me about it.’

‘It was a long time ago. I was a teenager. We all have crushes on more sophisticated girls at school. I fancied a girl who was two years ahead of me. She was house captain.’

His smile widened. ‘That really turns me on.’

He kissed the side of my face. I turned to meet his lips and we shared as passionate a kiss as we had ever done. I felt a flutter of the old arousal in my chest. I wondered if he felt the same. He squeezed one of my breasts. Hard, like before. I flinched and tried not to show it.

‘You are so hot tonight. Did you ever tell her how you felt?’ he asked.

‘No. I didn’t have the guts. She would have laughed, I’m sure.’

‘I wish you’d asked her. I wish you’d done it.’

We watched the women on the sofa for a while. Eventually, the girl dressed as Sally Bowles came in great shuddering gasps that looked and sounded like death throes. Her companion spent some time smoothing her hair as though to soothe her, then the two women changed places and the Sally Bowles lookalike set about making the zombie bride come in exchange for the pleasure she had just received. Quid pro quo.

She slid to the floor and knelt between her companion’s open legs. She took off the bowler hat she had been wearing the whole time and moved closer, bringing her mouth level with her friend’s clitoris. Steven gripped my arm to make sure I wasn’t going anywhere. I pressed myself against his side.

‘Was this what you thought about?’ he asked me.

‘I didn’t even know such things were possible. I was an innocent.’

‘So you never acted on your crushes, is what you’re telling me?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I never did.’

‘There’s always a first time,’ said Steven.

I persuaded him we should go back to the bar to get another drink, leaving the two Sapphic lovers alone (apart from a dozen voyeurs). The club was starting to fill up now and there were some more interesting-looking people around: people with serious costumes, some of which looked painful, like the studded corset that squeezed one man’s waist as small as a Victorian girl’s. I saw my first pair of nipple clamps on a woman who stood beside me to order a drink. I wished I had the guts to ask whether they turned her on.