By My Side ... (A Valentine's Day Story) (21 page)

It truly was not a big deal to
answer; it was not as if she had a reputation worth protecting. "We
were on the street, one of the girls, Heroise I think, was sick,
really sick. It must have been Berlin. I cannot remember where Paul
was. I had found a spot in a corner of a parking garage and
scrounged some cardboard and blankets for warmth. This man in a
suit saw us and offered me 200 Euros for sex with one of the
twins."

For a moment she was back
there, back in the dirty structure, the rattling breathing of the
sick child a terrifying soundtrack. Kathryn had listened with
fearful horror, with foreboding, to each cough, her mind scrambling
madly for a means to find medication, food, for the children. She
had been glad of that man in the suit, had been glad when he had
approached them.

"I told him no. So he offered
me 100 Euros for use of my body." Kathryn shrugged, wincing, when
his hands, which had returned to her waist before she started
speaking, were clamping ever tighter around her waist, tight enough
it hurt. She guessed Paul had not told him about that part of her
life. That was surprising - he told everyone else wherever they
went. It was astonishing with what depths of depravity she could
surprise people. She faced him squarely.

"I am a whore."

He did not flinch as he had
wanted him to. "Yes," and then he added "as have I been, at
times."

It surprised her so much, she
did not even react to his hands softly starting to massage her
waist with gentle, soothing circles.

"Have you ever had sex just
because you wanted to?"

The topic was clearly not over
yet, no matter how much she wished it to be. She had no idea where
this conversation was leading, so she nodded carefully. He just
waited for her to elaborate, so she continued tentatively.

"Two or three years back, I was
working as a waitress in a little café close to the University of
Strathclyde. He was another waiter, a student, and I decided that I
wanted to try it once on my own. He was nice, younger than me and
really nervous. He had made dinner, and there were flowers."

She had to smile, and looking
down, found an answering smile on those enigmatic lips, mirrored in
those blue eyes.

"Did you like it?" His voice
was a mere whisper as he held her gaze.

She just shrugged. "It was
nice." His tongue wet his lips, a quick movement that left them
with a sheen of moisture in the flickering firelight, and
unaccountably she had the desire to do the same.

"Did you orgasm?"

She shook her head slowly but
added in a dreamy voice: "I didn't matter. It wasn't really about
that."

"Just the closeness." His voice
was as soft as hers. She nodded again and they shared a moment of
perfect understanding. His hands were stroking up and down her back
in slow sensual strokes; at each upstroke he applied a little
pressure, moving her mouth a little closer to his with every touch.
But he had still not finished his questions.

"Have you ever had an
orgasm?"

"Once, I think."

This qualification made his
lips twitch, a quick spasm so close to hers. She was now close
enough that it was hard to concentrate, hard to focus her eyes.

"You think?"

She felt his breath on her
lips, tasted it. "One of Paul's friends. He let us crash with
him... in exchange. After a while he took his time - I think he
even read a book -- and it was not bad. It made me feel strange
though."

"Did you like it?" She was now
close enough to feel the movement of his lips against hers.

"Not sure."

She was uncertain if she
managed to say the words before his mouth covered hers, and then
decided it did not matter. His soft lips stroked over hers,
sensitising her lips to the touch, the taste of him, before she
felt his tongue gently painting the seam of her mouth, playfully
caressing the corners. Unexpectedly, her own lips parted, allowing
him access without her conscious decision to do so. She waited for
the invasion, for the rough stabs of his tongue to overwhelm hers,
for the sense of suffocation almost inevitably followed by the need
to suppress the gag reflex. But he continued to just play over her
lips, barely penetrating, soft licks to taunt and entice. The very
softness of his lips devastated her more than brutality would have.
It left her confused, unable to so anything, unable to react and
with his touch warmth seemed to intrude where there had only ever
been cold. She angled her head, chased that warmth. When he moved
back, her lips were wet and swollen, her breath short, her eyes
huge.

"Did you like that?"

She did not know how to answer.
She had never felt like this before, was not sure she wanted to.
The numbness, the cold - all was shot to hell with this one touch,
one taste. So remained silent too long.

"Darling, you promised not to
lie." It was a soft reminder, the endearment's gentleness adding to
her confusion. Kathryn still did not know what to say as he cradled
her head and brought her lips closer to his again.

"Did you like it?"

The whispered words were
punctuated by soft nibbles against her lower lip. This was the
moment when she realised that her promise not to lie might be less
innocent than she had perceived it to be.

"I don't know"

She felt him smile against her
lips: "That's alright, darling, we have time to practice until you
do."

"We have no time." She again
answered before thinking and again knew she should have just shut
up.

He pressed a hard,
closed-mouthed kiss on her lips and set her back on his knees. The
grin lighting his face was not gentle - it was pure darkness, as he
picked up the blindfold from where it had fallen.