The Poison Morality (13 page)

Sophie stared out across the Thames, “That’s not a life for me,” not prepared to have this conversation.  Relax, she thought, it’s a general question that anyone would ask.  He’s not asking you to have his babies, she reminded herself.

“I guess it’s not a life for me either, at least not working the hours at the hospital, like I do.  I want them but if it doesn’t happen that’s okay too, I suppose,” he sounded disappointed.  “Just because you think you shouldn’t doesn’t make the wanting any less, does it?”

The lights flashing on the London Eye contrasted starkly with the dark sky.  “I couldn’t create anything that wonderful.  I’m more of a destructive force.” 

“How do you mean?”  Big Ben tolled nine behind them and Oliver thought this might be the confession he was waiting for.

“Everything I do that was good and everyone I have loved has ceased to last.”

“Sophie,” he wanted to take her hand but kept his in his coat pockets as they strolled, “Everyone, everyone has the dark and the light in them.”

“Not me, I couldn’t make anyone happy.”

“In those moments that you laugh and smile, it makes me happy; when I can do that for you, when you allow me to do that for you.”  He sighed, “Sophie, it’s alright for you to be content.  Why you think you don’t deserve it is beyond me but being happy isn’t about deserving, it’s about making the most of the life you have.” 

They walked past the little Archbishop Park, when a train passed, the noise making it hard to hear conversation so he stopped talking and she didn’t reply.

Once it passed, she answered, “I can’t complain.  I am better off than I was.  Trust me Oliver, I know what doing without is but now I have a roof over my head, food, paint supplies, books, work,” she cringed; she should have left that off the list.  “I have all that I need.”

“Do you,” they reached her flat and went in, “no people in your life, work you don’t like.”

“Most people don’t like their jobs; you’re one of the lucky ones.  As for people, I told you, I’ve ruined all the relationships in my life.  That’s why, I think, Sydney doesn’t really want to meet me and you,” she paused not wanting to say it, “you will feel the same way, eventually.”

He ran his hand through his hair and started lighting the fire for her, seeming slightly agitated.  “No one knows how anything turns out until you try it.  But you can’t expect failure from the get go.  If you didn’t want me to be your friend, I wouldn’t be here now.”

She watched the smooth way he moved and the fire lighting up his face, “What is this obligation you think you have towards me, Oliver?” 

Standing erect again, he replied, “It’s only an obligation because I want it to be, as your friend.  Look around you.”  Walking over to the corner where some paintings sat drying, he lifted one.  “This, you painted this and this and this,” he said, lifting canvas after canvas. He spoke ardently, admiring her work, “These are extraordinary and they are a part of you, the same with your sketches, the same as your pain and pleasure, all part of you.”

His hands were on his hips, looking at her, the doubt on her face evident, “Did you read this book,” picking up a mystery novel, he let it drop on the table as a visual exclamation mark.

“Yes, what’s that got to do with anything?”

“And this one,” he asked holding up Dickens and shaking it in front of her.

“Yes, but…” He dropped it on top of the other.

“And this one,” This time he chose the biggest book she had on Ancient Rome and when it dropped it shook the whole table.

“What is your point Oliver?”

“You are a talented, intelligent, beautiful woman.  These are the wonderful things that you already are.”

“Nothing good has ever come from my existence, I just am and survive and that’s it.
My mum, my family, my life, me, my ability to care, all….shattered, gone.”  Sophie was on the defensive now, although she wasn’t sure why she was trying so hard to contradict his sincere compliments but she knew he was brewing up to something else together.

“If you really thought that was true, you would have done yourself in.  If there was no hope in you for something you want that you think eventually you’ll get, you would have...,” he stopped not wanting to elaborate.  “Whatever you have done, worse has been done to you,” hovering over, he looked down into her face, serious and stern; she stood, trying to maintain her composure.

“How would you know what’s been done to me?”

“I don’t know the cause, I just know the effects.  You’re communicating to me indirectly and I am picking up on it, things you say, things you see, things you do because I want to get to know you.”

Their faces were a few inches apart and they looked at each other for what seemed like eternity and she broke the silence.  He leaned in slightly, she didn’t move back but looked at his mouth in anticipation but he dared not to and stood up straight again.

“I want to show you something I have never shown anyone else.”  She opened the drawer on the small entry table and picked up a key, walking out the door to the flat next to hers without looking back to see if he was behind her.  Before Oliver followed, something caught his eye outside the window, a figure under a light post, distinctly a woman’s figure.  Sydney, he thought and proceeded to follow and when she opened the door, switching on the light, he was amazed.

She stood watching Oliver’s reaction when the light switched on.  Oliver’s jaw dropped and his eyes wide, a grin slowly appearing and turning into a smile.  That was the thing about his smile, it made her smile too but she covered her mouth to hide it.

Hundreds of paintings and sketches lined the single room.  Aside from the art there was just a table and stool with art supplies a plenty.  “Sometimes I paint or draw in here, the morning light is better in here than next door and evening better in there.”

Captivated by them, he shuffled through them looking at several.  “Sophie,” he just said her name in awe of her.  “How can you not see how marvellous these are?  How marvellous you truly are?” 

He approached her after several minutes of quiet appreciation of her work; his hands held her face and his lips pressed lightly.  Her mouth opened slightly but the kiss was just pressure on the lips, softly.

With one last look around, he walked through the door, she locked it and they stood in the corridor.  “Call you tomorrow?”

“I don’t know if I’ll have time to talk but ok,” he kissed her forehead and ran into the street and around the corner.  The person was gone.  He didn’t like it, he didn’t care if she was a long lost sister, this game she was playing was making him suspicious and angry.  However, was he really any different when he would do the same tomorrow night? 

Maybe that’s what people had to do to be a part of Sophie’s life.  Follow her, be her shadow, watch and contemplate, stay on the periphery.  That was an intolerable notion to him.  He didn’t want to stay on the outside, just on the edge of her life.  If that’s what Sydney wanted to do, fine, but he wanted to be a part of her life and he truly believed what he said.  If she didn’t want him around, he wouldn’t be.

Sophie hesitated, standing on the corner of the racy Soho street on a Tuesday night, biting her nails anxiously.  Underground stations, busy museums, empty streets are familiar territory but a building with a variety of sex acts happening simultaneously was out of her comfort zone.  All she had to do, she thought, was follow him in, do what needed to be done and leave, that’s all. 

Beyond the trendy shops and restaurants of Soho, lingers the adult clubs with their strippers and loud music, but even beyond that is the more discreet and simply named Carnal Society not exclusive by any means but they didn’t advertise as the other clubs.  It could be ideal, Sophie assumed those places had more privacy and dark corners than anywhere in London.  

Carnal was one of the most discreet places in town.  It’s inconspicuous door and lack of notice was in contrast to the rest of the seedy area surrounding it.  If you weren’t aware of it, you wouldn’t know it was there.  A mixture of men and women came in and out, from the well-dressed to the truly sleazy.  Some looked around conspicuously and others loudly burst through the doors laughing and giggling.

Sophie was getting ready to leave when she thought she saw him walking up the street in her direction.  He walked through the red lights, beyond the thumping music and beyond the clubs and women reaching out for him, and out the other end of the narrow alley of the clubs to the Carnal Society.  His face was red and he was walking fast, looking down at the sidewalk, his shoulders hunched, collar raised.  He never looked up.  Sweat rolled down his face and the bald spot on his head reflected in the lamplight.  When he passed her, she confirmed it was him by the mole on his cheek and Sophie took step behind him, becoming his shadow as he went through the door.

This place didn’t have the usual bouncers but two security guards in suits just inside the inconspicuous door.  A young woman chewing gum, her eyes darkened by heavy makeup, her red lips puckered blowing a bubble, standing behind a grated window, nodded towards him, “Ten quid,” she held out her hand.  Sophie immediately pulled her wallet out to pay the same but the girl just winked at her and nodded her through, “Go on, love, good to see you,” looking at Sophie up and down appreciatively. 

Confused, Sophie smiled nervously at the girl and turned, realizing she had lost him already and hurried down the hall until she saw him, she slowed, walking the middle of the corridor.  Others would assume she was with him; she was just that close but far enough away that he didn’t seem to notice her.  It wouldn’t necessarily seem conspicuous that she was a woman alone here.  However, it seemed to be the place for couples and lonely men.  Everyone seemed to be too engrossed in their own pleasure to notice her, thankful that most of them kept their eyes in a narrow scope.

The air was filled with a mixture of perfume and aftershave, skin and sweat, and on top of all that, the pungent smell of alcohol.  They walked past nervous men and passive women entering the rooms of their fantasies.  They walked past many closed doors down the dim lit corridor but plenty of noises came from the rooms.  Moans and groans mingled with laughing.  Buzzing sounds and slapping sounds, Sophie didn’t want to know what that was about and wouldn’t allow her mind to wonder but kept her gaze at her target’s heels, fighting the instinct to cover her ears and run out of there or to open the doors to peek in.

His purposeful walk meant he knew where he was going and the deeper into the corridors they went, the darker it became.  Corner after corner, Sophie found it harder to keep the memory of the labyrinth for her way out.

Shuffling and hurried footsteps coming up behind her made her nervous and hands circled her arms, moving her to the side and up against the wall when security went by her and burst through a door pulling a man clutching a sheet.  The woman was cursing at him, naked, a red mark on her face.  Sophie ignored them and walked swiftly to get away from the commotion and to find her target again.

Finally, stopping in front of a door at the end, he entered a room without knocking, without asking permission.  So she walked in behind him, standing long enough to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the theatre as he walked ahead.  A few steps in and she was shocked by the couple kissing and caressing, already nude on a stage.  She fought her urge to flee but she heard the squeak of the chair when he sat down and remembered what she was there to do.  Already there, better to get it done and over with.  It was just people having it off.  It had nothing to do with her or why she was there.  It was something people did all the time.

Heart racing and face flushed from the sounds and moans coming from the stage, along with low music with a distinctive beat distracted Sophie from her true purpose, somewhat thankful for the darkness except it would make her job harder.  She was already nervous from being thrust aside by a strange man, even if he was just moving her out of way.  Only a soft glow of light emanated from the stage, he had chosen his seat at the edge of the aisle to the right, a better view of the woman. 

Sophie sat in a seat directly behind him and three aisles back, not knowing where to look, occasionally glancing at the stage when some sound or strange movement would distract, fascinated enough to look but a little too alarmed to stare for too long.

Another moan came from somewhere towards Sophie’s left, not a moan of pain but lighter, higher, of pleasure, no more like a sigh, she deducted.  Turning towards the sound, she saw another couple snogging, his hand up the woman’s dress while she watched the couple on stage.  Her head tilted back and mouth open, breathing fast and heavy, her feet on the back of the seat in front of her and the man nuzzled her neck, his hand moved purposefully and rhythmically under her dress.  They were far beyond the point the other couple were, it seemed a little backwards.

The blonde on the stage with her small breasts and long legs lowered onto her knees giving pleasure to the man behind the glass, his hand entangled in her hair, pulling her head closer causing her to take him deeper in her mouth.  The woman to Sophie’s left was receiving the pleasure, her arousal obvious and open.  Sophie had never received any pleasure or given any pleasure but her body reacted as if she knew what it felt like already, the physical instinct to react to what she was witnessing.  It was causing her body to tremble slightly; shaking would make her job harder.

Fascinated as she was, she was equally embarrassed, returning her focus to the job at hand.  If she had to do it with them across the room, she would but she preferred that they weren’t there at all, it was just too distracting, so she waited as long as she dared.

The woman’s moans had turned into whimpers.  Faster and faster the man found the rhythm, his elbow moved back and forth, his hand hidden under her skirt.  It was beyond Sophie’s experience to know exactly what he was doing to her.  They had stopped kissing, he just whispered something but Sophie couldn’t make out what he was saying but she could see the woman’s jaw set, teeth clenched.  Grabbing his arm, she cried out and the feverish motions had turned to slight quivers throughout her body, the skirt of her dress had fallen to her thighs almost exposing. His hand remained under her dress but moved slower until she smiled at him and he withdrew his hand putting his fingers in her mouth, rubbing her bottom lip and then into his mouth.

Sophie covered her own mouth in response.  It was quite mesmerizing, the whole episode, her breathing in sync with the woman’s orgasm; she had clutched the arm rests of her seat.   With quiet mumbling and kisses, the couple stood to leave, looking Sophie’s direction, she turned away quickly and heard them giggle together, leaving the theatre. 

Her victim seemed not to pay any attention to them; his focus was on the couple on the stage, the man’s erection disappearing into the woman’s mouth almost all the way.  Sophie was trying to figure out how she was doing that, her own hand to her throat.

Thankful she never had to do such a thing, she again focused on the back of the chair in front of her; she could see the outline of his head, the profile of his face, the licking of his lips.  She heard him unzip his trousers and his arm started to move slowly.  Oh terrific, she thought, there was too much going on.  This was more sex than she had seen in a whole lifetime; she was ignorant of all these forms of pleasure, which would be fine if her body wasn’t reacting strangely when she was actually there to work.

Reaching into her pocket, she removed the sheath from the needle with a flick of her thumb.  It has to be now or never.  She couldn’t linger much longer; something unfamiliar was happening to her body, she couldn’t think straight.

Sophie stood.  The victim’s breath became short pants.  Walking towards him, she had the needle poised.  She stood as far away from him as she could and still penetrate his neck.  The man on the stage made a grunting noise, the sound of exertion.  Yes, she was familiar with that noise, she covered her ears.  The woman’s head moved back and forth faster.

If she pricked him on his right, his pleasuring hand would instinctively go to the wound, disrupting his gratification.  If she did it on the left side, his left hand would go to the wound but he probably wouldn’t stop, therefore making her getaway easier.  She turned the needle to an accommodating angle for the left side.

Exclamations were coming from the man being pleasured but Sophie blocked out what he was saying.  No she wasn’t looking again.  When she came closer she caught a glimpse of her victim’s penis, she was appalled, not knowing any other way to feel about it, as he increased the up and down motion.

The man on the stage breathed heavier and shorter and Sophie focused on the spot on the back of his neck below the ear.  The man on stage cried out once, out of the corner of her eye she could see the white on the woman’s face.  Sophie was repulsed but the woman continued licking it off.  Sophie almost gagged. 

The victim cried out at the same moment a hand gripped Sophie’s wrist, her startled cry muffled by a hand over her mouth.  She was fighting futilely being pulled swiftly backwards a distance before she heard Oliver’s familiar voice in her ear shushing her, he still pulled her more towards the middle.  “It’s me,” his unmistakable voice, his lips brushing her ear.

Shuffling made them both turn, her job hurried out of the theatre.  Oliver’s grip eased up.  Removing his hand from her mouth, he still grasped her wrist firmly, holding it away from them both, the needle pinched between her fingers. Relief caused her to go limp and then she was angry when she whipped around seeing his self-satisfied smile. 

“What do you think you’re doing,” she hissed through clenched teeth, scolding him.

Oliver held her arm between them, looking at the needle, the soft glow from the stage behind her softening his face.  “So this is how you did it, to the man on the train, the man in the gallery?”  One eyebrow rose in speculation. “Would you put that away?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s harmless.”  Maybe in the darkness he couldn’t tell she was lying but having said it, she couldn’t think of a plausible explanation for it other than claiming it is some type of drug which would lead to the question of why she was giving it to a stranger.  He had backed her into a corner.

Both eyebrows shot up, he tightened his grip bringing his free wrist towards the tip of the needle.  Wanting to call his bluff, she hesitated, watching the needle and when the tip almost met his skin, she grabbed his arm.  “No!”

Sophie just glared at him, he held it up in between them and she slid the top over it and he dropped it into her pocket.

“What are you going to do,” knowing she had just confirmed his suspicions once and for all, she was at his mercy now, he made sure of it and she didn’t know what he would do or wanted in return?  He had said her secret was safe but he had followed her yet again, she didn’t know where she stood with him.

“Right now I’m going to enjoy the rest of the show,” he took his coat off and tossed it on the seat to the side, looking at her smugly, rolling his sleeves up to the elbow.  Sophie was getting used to the sounds coming from behind but what was going on was even more off putting with Oliver near her.

“No, about me?”  Without a word, his hands slipped inside her coat, his hands cupping her round shoulders and sliding down her arms until it slid easily off and tossed it on top of his and then his hand circled the top of her arm, slightly brushing the side of her breast with the back of his hand when he did so pulling her around to face the couple again.  Immediately she diverted her eyes but was more relaxed that he couldn’t see her embarrassment.  For now she had to play his game.

“I told you before; your secret is safe with me.”  He didn’t touch her but she was keenly aware of his presence just as much as the action on the stage.  “Have you ever watched before?  It’s okay for you to watch Sophie, that’s what they are there for,” he whispered in her ear, “to watch.”

“No, why would I,” shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she was terribly uncomfortable with the situation.  Oliver could feel her angst but she didn’t resist him, try to push him away, or yell at him.  Her curiosity had peaked beyond any inclination to flee and she wasn’t sure if she was ensnared or not, regardless of the fact that’s how she felt, trapped between the outrageous things going on and Oliver’s presence.

“It’s natural to be curious,” he said.  She looked down at her hands gripping the chair in front of her.  Oliver stood behind her, his hand came up under her chin and raised her head to look up and then swept across her neck to brush the hair back past her shoulder.
The reaction her body had from that touch alone made her shiver and he felt it and smiled in the darkness.