New Title 1 (8 page)

But
she
was gone before he’d had his chance. In a way though, he still kept his dream alive. His fantasy. Whenever he took one of her surrogates, he always ordered his apology meal first. And the fact that he had ordered it this time without thought left him a little dry-mouthed.
It was too soon, he wasn’t ready yet. He needed to prepare, he needed to be sure…

He needed to try the key.

The thought was irresistible and Ben pushed away the plate even though he was only half finished. He had to try it because now she was stuck in his brain again; the mental image of her wreathed in smoke; smiling down at him. And that image was leading to others.

As he queued to pay, Ben fanned his fingers in front of his face, staring at the white dots that ran the length of his fingers, the faint scars of what had once been glistening holes in his flesh. The pain and the smell came back to him. The sear as it sizzled beneath the cigarette’s tip. But now Ben smiled instead of screamed. That was in the past where it could no longer hurt him and his revenge was where it always would be: in the future.

* * * * *

The key felt hot in his pocket as he forced himself to keep a steady pace back to the flat. He couldn’t stop playing with it: turning it over and over, running his fingers over its corrugated edge. He could feel his penis swelling at the possibilities the key might represent and he had to force his excitement down as he walked past the rows of houses and flats. He had to tell himself repeatedly that even if it did work, he wouldn’t be doing anything yet.

It was just an experiment to see if it worked or not. He wouldn’t be retrieving his duffel bag and going in to wait for her yet. He wouldn’t be spending the day perched on her bed, waiting to hear the door swing open…

He was passing the building site a few doors up from the flat, peering at the worn signage that suggested construction had been stalled there for a very long time, when he felt eyes on him. He looked across the road to see a group of schoolgirls – posh ones, judging by the ties and blazers – congregated around the bus stop, giggling as they shot glances at him. Even when they saw him looking they didn’t stop and Ben was momentarily confused until he looked down and saw the way his hand was working in his pocket; saw the bulge at the front of his pants.

He almost echoed their laughter as he walked on, imagining what they must have been thinking.
Just another dirty old man
. But it didn’t worry him for long –
although you really need to be more careful; don’t draw attention to yourself
– and they had pretty much slipped his mind as he turned into the driveway. He had far more important things to focus on. The schoolgirls were outside the realm of his revenge and therefore of absolutely no consequence.

Despite his previous resolve to not get his hopes up, Ben’s heart was thumping wildly as he trod down the concrete drive. He looked around, already scanning for even the merest hint of movement; the slightest indication he would be interrupted.

Everything seemed to be clear: there was no-one heading for their cars or the mail boxes, no-one out dumping rubbish in their bins. He checked each of the blinds, searching for even the slightest crack; even a hint of prying eyes.

Nothing. Not a thing…

Ben had to resist the urge to sprint forward: to dash to her door and jam the key in the lock. To just get it over with. But he couldn’t. It would be the quickest way to draw attention to himself.

He walked on, his heartbeat thumping a rhythm to match the slapping of his feet on the concrete. The driveway seemed to stretch for an eternity in front of him. The seconds felt like hours until he was standing at her door, his mouth dust-dry as he swallowed painfully.

The excitement was immense as he looked around once more. It reminded him of the jittery feeling he’d had all those years ago, safe under the bridge, when the red walls had closed in on him the first time; when the idea had first arrived. The idea that he could hurt her back.

It had been spartan back then, when it first formed, much as his ideas had been abstract and fragmentary, but on subsequent visits to his haven he’d fleshed it out. Added the trimmings to match the ones in the room he shared with his brother, installed the table with its restraints, the bench – which back then had only contained a set of kitchen knives to match the ones she used. He’d constructed it all. The delicious fantasies of what he’d do to her there once it was complete. And then the first meat hook had arrived and he’d so enjoyed the idea of her hanging there limply, just awaiting her fate…

Ben wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he strode forward. The key was strangely heavy as he lifted it from his pocket and his head was full of contradictions:
It’s not going to work, it won’t even fit the lock - it’ll work because it was meant to be, his revenge needed to be taken.

He held his breath as the key slid into the lock. He could feel sweat on his brow and his pulse pumped loudly in his ears. The key slotted in perfectly. His clammy fingers slipped around its edge as he began to twist it. It resisted at first and Ben’s heart fell…

…but then it was turning, gliding smoothly around the tumbler and Ben heard the noise he had hoped for but didn’t dare expect: the click of the lock unsnibbing; and for a moment sheer disbelief flooded him and he stood staring down at his hand, his excitement exploding again as the realisation hit him. What this could mean…

He heard a screen door bang and was moving before he was even consciously aware of it. The key slipped from the lock and he palmed it into his sleeve as he turned and walked forward, fixing his eyes to a point up and off to the left, where a large gum tree was visible, as though that was what he’d been staring at all along.

He could see Theo hobbling toward him out of the corner of his eye and Ben forced himself not to turn and flee.
Had he seen him?
Ben hoped not. He had nothing personal against the man and sincerely hoped he wasn’t about to become an obstacle to his revenge.

‘Nice day, huh?’ Theo commented as he drew even and Ben tried to convince himself the nosey bastard wasn’t staring at him oddly. That it wasn’t suspicion in his eyes.

He mumbled a reply and Theo shot him a wide grin.

‘You’re a lucky prick you know that. And you sure move fast too. She’s a good looking girl.’ Theo inclined his head towards Rachel’s door with a giant shit-eating grin plastered across his face. A grin that said:
oh don’t worry, I’m on to you, I know what’s going on.

Ben peered after the man in confusion as he hobbled off and it was only once he was safe, back in his flat that it occurred to him what Theo could possibly have meant.

He couldn’t help the chuckle that burbled from his lips and when he caught a whiff of the stale odour that emanated from his armpits, his laughter only increased.
Shower might be in order,
he thought as he tried to remember when he’d taken his last one.
Change of clothes too… After all, I do have to look my best for my new girlfriend…

* * * * *

There was a strange feeling welling in the pit of Rachel’s stomach. An odd sensation that she couldn’t quite define. As she stared at the clean pane of glass, she wasn’t certain if she was angry, freaked out or just plain confused. She looked down at her bandaged hand as though to reinforce the fact that it was still there; that this morning had really happened.

Her stomach had been a twisted knot the whole way home on the tram as she’d sifted through her options and wondered what she should do about the stains. She hadn’t even contemplated the possibility that they would be gone, and combined with the fact that she’d forgotten to lock her door on the way out that morning – something she’d never do; or so she’d thought – left her doubting whether they had even been there in the first place. Which was dumb. She knew it. They’d been there; she’d seen them.
Hadn’t she? Of course she fucking had. But what did that mean? That whoever had sprogged on the window had come back and cleaned it up? If that was the case why hadn’t they done it earlier?

Still she couldn’t stop the slight doubt.
Did I imagine it?
She’d been pretty frazzled that morning.
I mean I forgot to lock the door… God, imagine if I’d forgotten to snib the deadbolt too… Anyone could have just strolled in. Gone through her stuff… Gone through the photo albums…

Although she knew it was silly, that the deadbolt had been locked, Rachel felt a tingle of alarm at the thought. She snagged her underwear from the line –
still a little damp but it’ll do
– and walked back inside, looking around carefully; searching for the littlest item that had been left out of place.

… Had she left the cushions on the couch like that? And the DVD’s… Had the cover been on the top of the tele this morning? Had it been open like that?
Rachel couldn’t remember and even though she told herself not to be stupid, the idea of someone in here, pawing through her stuff, made her physically nauseous. She could picture them so easily, skulking around, lying down on her couch, freeing their cock from their pants, stroking away at it.

She could see their cum spurt onto the cushions even though they bore not a hint of a stain.

She pictured them rising and heading to the bedroom and she followed their ghostly silhouette, her eyes still darting to and fro. She’d left the bed messy this morning so it was impossible to tell if it had been altered.
Of course it hasn’t,
she told herself but the silhouette was now sprawled across the sheets, its cock in its hands once more and it was just so easy to believe…

…And the silhouette was gaining a face now as she knelt down and slid the box from the space under the bed and it was the face of her neighbour and it was just so easy to believe it was him. As she lifted the lid on the box, she felt so angry. She wanted to leap on the silhouette screaming
how dare you!
She wanted to lay into it, tear at it.

Rachel set the lid aside and stared at the contents inside. Everything was as it should be. The two leatherbound photo albums were stacked neatly with Walter, her vibrator, slotted down in the gap between them and the side of the box.

She sighed in relief, feeling the tension drain out of her. She reached out and ran a finger gently over one of the albums just as the phone began to ring.

That’ll be Ana
, she thought as she slotted the lid back in place, pushed the box back under the bed and levered herself to her feet. As she walked back into the living room to get the phone, she could only shake her head at the absurdity of her actions.

* * * * *

It was Ana on the phone. The one teetotaller out of Rachel’s small group of friends and consequently the perpetual designated driver. Ana was probably as close to Rachel as she would let anyone get and as soon as she’d started talking, Rachel smelt an ambush.
Apparently
Ana’s friend Mitch had “abruptly dropped in from out of town” and would unfortunately have to accompany them that evening. The fact that Mitch was apparently gorgeous and currently single – two things Ana had stressed during the call – was seemingly just a coincidence.

So much for the girl’s night out
, she thought as she hung up the phone. She wasn’t too pissed off though. Usually she would have been – especially considering the calibre of men her friends had set her up with in the past – but this time she didn’t mind at all. It had been a good while since last time and it might be just the extra release she needed. Things had been building up a lot the last couple of weeks and she really, really needed to blow off some steam.

Fuck, she’d nearly decked Maree at work today and she was pretty sure that Maree had known it too. Maybe she’d read it in her eyes.
Who knew?
But whatever it was, she had backed off right away and pretty much left her alone for the rest of her shift.
Fucking stupid bitch
, Rachel shook her head in disbelief,
saying I’m not fit to provide service just cause of a bandage on my hand. Argh!

Rachel deliberately forced her mind off of the issue. Work was finished for the week; she had a good night out planned and a blissful weekend to follow. There was no need to ruin it with thoughts of Maree. No need to brood on it.

Not when compared to the other matter…

Rachel had no idea what to do about that one.
She couldn’t very well call in the cops now could she? What would they be able to do about it? Sure they could come and take a statement in case it happened again but with the cum cleaned up would they even believe her?
Rachel berated herself for not doing anything that morning. She should have reported it straight away. Or at least taken a couple of photos or something.

So what, are you just going to ignore it?
The voice chirped up in her head.

What am I going to say if they ask why I didn’t report it straight off? That’s exactly what I’m going to do
, she countered instinctively.
It might have just been a one-off. If it happens again I’ll do something.

Are you sure you’re not just looking for an excuse again?
The voice persisted but Rachel forced it out of her mind.