rebeccasparkles
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Joined: 3/20/2011
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Prologue
Rebecca was naturally a book-lover, and would devour her favourite literary masterpieces with aplomb. Modern greats, classical literature, prose, poetry, plays, all consumed with the same fervour. Her paperback heroines ranged from the meek to spirited; Tess Durbeyfield, Cathy Linton, Desdemona, Marianne Dashwood, all defined the kindness, spirit and humbleness that she adored. However, as well as her love for literature, she was also wracked with personal self-doubt, crippled with low self-confidence and shyness. Alongside her modern and historical classics on her bookshelf, were her self-help books. She had always said that there was a secret to getting though life, and it lay in these books. She would pore through their pages, desperate to find the secret keys to unlock the spirit of Cathy or Marianne in herself.
She was still happy in her life, she had a great group of close friends, and a wonderful family, but her shyness had occasionally led her to be singled out by people, knowing that she wouldn’t stand up for herself or fight back. And so she desperately sought the secrets to help her in the self-help books she purchased. “How to be a strong, independent woman”, “How to beat the bullies”, “How to assert yourself”, “Learn to love yourself”…..
But Rebecca was unaware that the next 12 months she was about to experience would be the most important in her life. Would it set her on a path to redemption, or self-destruction? A path that would leave her even more desperately searching her self-help books for answers, or a path that would allow her to re-write the self-help books she so preyed upon?
Chapter 1: How to relieve workplace stresses
As she awoke, Rebecca got that strange feeling of not knowing where she was… the bedsheets felt different, the pillow and mattress of a different firmness to her own. As she blinked in the semi-darkness, the faint moonlight entering the room from the window illuminated her surroundings enough to show the unfamiliar wallpaper, curtains, the different mirror on the wall, different wardrobes to her own familiar, homely room. “This sure ain’t Kansas” she thought to herself…
She saw the ultra-modern minimalistic, dez-rez that would grace the pages of the expensive home design magazines - a stylish, modern bedroom, a designer metal framed bed, art-deco mirror hung on the wall… and the high fashion dresses, skirts and tops, most neatly hung in the open fronted walk in wardrobe - Michael Kors, Gucci, D&G, Prada. Although an additional small pile were strewn by her side of the bed, a pair of Jimmy Choos heels and a Stella McCartney summer dress – last night’s outfit she assumed, next to her own discarded Topshop dress and River Island heels. Despite the obvious predicament that she found herself in, not least where on earth she was, the first thought to run through Rebecca’s head was “God I hope she didn’t see the labels in those”.
A steady headache was setting in, and that now very familiar after-taste of red bull hinted at the activities of last night. A work’s night out. A work’s night-out after a very, very bad Friday at work. Alcohol is very good at making you forget the things from whilst you were drinking, but it also has a way of magnifying the memories of the sober times of the previous day. Especially when they were bad memories. And the cutting comments of that bitch Stacy at work had left deep anchor-points in Rebecca’s mind. Stacy knew how to hurt with her words, in a way that seemed fairly innocuous to other by-standers, but that hurt their target deeply. A disguised cruise-missile of a comment, one which she’d obviously saved up, to be used when she knew she had Rebecca as a captive audience all day and evening for a works night out. And yesterday, over lunch, she’d launched her cruise-missile, and it had struck its target with all the precision that a seasoned bully has developed.
Rebecca used to be able to ignore the comments. It was almost a joke between her and her 2 friends in the office…. who’s going to get the treatment this week… what will she pick on this time… ? However, over the previous few months, her friend Em had been given a promotion that had meant moving to a different office, and Sue had left the company. Which had left just Rebecca. And, without her friends to joke with and make light of the comments, she had no way of relieving the tension. The comments now hit, and hit with regularity. This particular comment was about her clothes, a favourite topic for Stacy, and had reduced Rebecca’s lunch break to 30 minutes sobbing in the toilets quietly. This was the memory of yesterday that sprung to her mind when she saw the sprawled dress on the floor, as she lay in her unknown surroundings. Stirred in to a more awake mode by this bad memory, it finally dawned on Rebecca that there was a mound under the sheet, beside her in the king size bed. Emerging from the sheets, was a pile of long, sleek, black hair, with a slight wave to it, still near perfect, still perfectly presentable for a night out, smelling beautifully of coconut, she thought. “Fuck, I need to remember, think Becs” she whispered to herself.
As the clock ticked 6pm, the various groups from the office began switching off their computers in unison, the talk all about the evening out. Taxi was booked, restaurant was booked, and a booth at the nightclub was reserved. People flocked to the exits making their way to the taxis waiting outside. Desperate to avoid having to share with her nemesis, Rebecca made sure she found a group of 3 people already, she started chatting with Alison her manager and 2 of her colleagues. They jumped in to their taxi and headed to the restaurant. However, despite her precautions with the taxi, she wasn’t as lucky at the restaurant. “Ohh, Becs, here Becs, we’ve saved you a seat” called out Stacy, as Rebecca, in the last taxi group, finally arrived. Alison held back with Rebecca before they got to the table. “Just ignore any nasty comments” she quietly said. “Don’t get yourself upset over something she says, okay ?”. Rebecca gave a weak smile, “Trade seats ?” she laughed. “you’ll be okay” replied Alison, “I’ll get you a drink”.
The time spent at that end of the table wasn’t actually as bad as Rebecca had imagined it was going to be. Stacy, an incredibly complex individual, had a variety of modes, and her mode that evening was fairly light hearted. Maybe the odd sly comment here and there, but Rebecca thought that perhaps she really didn’t know the hurt she caused… or was just able to switch it on and off like a tap… “a typical sociopath” Rebecca remembered Em saying once about Stacy, which felt very fitting tonight. After a good meal, chatting and a few drinks, the works party began to disperse. 9pm rolled by, and a lot of the staff with families decided to call it a night, including Alison. “You two seemed to be getting on well” she said. Rebecca smiled. “Yeah, okay I guess. Good night Alison, see you next week”. This left just a select few, the younger members of staff, who had got the booth booked at the nearest nightclub. A short walk across town led the group to the venue, and they went inside, slightly intoxicated, giggling and chatting.
On arriving, they went to the bar. Sharing out the rest of the money they’d been left for drinks from management, the group ordered drinks, Rebecca having her usual vodka and red bull. More chatting, more giggling, more fun. Rebecca wandered to the bar, and queued next to a group of 5 women dressed immaculately. One in particular looked so striking, so tall, slender, with the most perfect black ringlet hair. Bottles of champagne were ordered. 2 bottles, ice buckets, glasses. The group of women began to wander over to their booth, leaving the tall, slender, perfect (Rebecca thought) woman to carry more than she could manage. After failing to be able to call her friends back due to the noise, she turned to her left. “Ohh, hey, could you help me carry these glasses over”, she said, very casually. “Ohh, yeah sure” smiled Rebecca. She followed the tall stranger over to their booth.
“You all left me” laughed the tall stranger to her friends. “I’ve had to hire waitress help”. They all smiled, “Sorry Jen” came the responses in turn. “And who is the waitress?” asked one of Jen’s friends. “Sorry, I never asked you” Jen said to Rebecca. “it’s okay, I’m Rebecca”. Introductions followed, and Rebecca was greeted by Sam, Paula, Holly, Zoe, and of course the tall, slender, ringlet- haired Jen. “You’ve got to stay for a drink now, Rebecca, you’ve lost your place in the queue” coerced Holly. Rebecca smiled, and graciously agreed to stay, and chat. The 5 were school-friends, on a catch up night. “We don’t get the chance too often, family commitments now for some of us”, Paula told Rebecca. “How old are you hun ?” They all moaned when Rebecca said, 29. Jokes about how they remembered being in their 20’s. The group were all 39. Holly, Paula and Sam all married, with children. Zoe engaged. “Don’t ask Jen” laughed the group. “Single and proud” proclaimed Jen. “That’s cool, me too” replied Rebecca. “She’s a different kind of single” giggled Holly. Rebecca, visibly confused, prompted Jen to say “don’t scare the girl”. After more chatting, and finishing the 2nd bottle, the group decided it was time for them to move on to their next location. Wishing Rebecca a nice night, they part. Rebecca heading back to her own work party, the group of 5 on to the next champagne bar.
10pm became 11pm, became midnight. A few vodkas were consumed, and Rebecca began to feel tired. A couple of the younger members of the work party had already made their excuses and left. There was just 6 left. Including Stacy and Rebecca. “You were getting on with that group over there”, Stacy commented. “Left us all alone” she added. “I just chatted for a bit” protested Rebecca, but well aware that this was the opening salvo of another cruise-missile. A few direct hits later, this time not as subtle as earlier on at lunch time, probably due to the alcohol consumed loosening Stacy’s inhibitions, and the night had pretty much come to an end. Rebecca holding back the tears, Stacy protesting her innocence, and the others comforting one or reassuring the other.
Rebecca collected her coat, wandered out of the club, and fighting back the tears, began to walk home. As she stumbled past the super-fancy wine bar the other side of the street, there was a knock on the glass window. She looked up, and saw Holly, beckoning to her. Holly and Jen tottered out, “heyyyy waitress” called Jen. Glad to see a friendly face, but totally overcome with emotion, floods and floods of tears rained on to the pavement below Rebecca. “Heyyy, I didn’t mean anything, hun” Jen protested, and hugged her. The 3 went back inside. They swapped stories of their night since parting. Jen and Holly about being the last 2 standing as the others had headed off thirty minutes before. Rebecca confessed to everything about her day, her tormentor, her work. Jen held her hand tightly. Holly and Jen swapped glances several times. Rebecca had noticed, but was too weary and too upset still to even begin to wonder.
After a glass of champagne each, Holly glanced at her phone, and said she needed to get home. She kissed her friend, her upset companion, and left. “Just us two then, waitress” said Jen. But this time, her voice was quieter, hushed, serious, erotic. Rebecca nodded. “Maybe you’d like to come back to mine for another bottle of champagne together?” asked Jen, before adding “Or tea, or coffee, doesn’t have to be alcoholic”. “Champagne is good” smile Rebecca. Jen took her hand, leading her out to the taxi rank. They hopped inside one, and set off. “You do know I’m lesbian, yes?” asked Jen. Rebecca knew. God she knew, or had at least prayed. But her voice failed her, it seemed so weak, in contrast to her companion’s hushed but firm tone. She nodded. “And that I want more than champagne” pushed Jen. Again, words failed Rebecca, but she nodded. The simple nod was all Jen was waiting for. Her hands massaged over Rebecca’s thighs, running up inside her dress. Discrete enough to not make a show of the two for them for the taxi driver, but enough to totally take control of this situation, take control of this girl, to impose her sexual desires upon Rebecca from the very start. Finally, after sheer sexual torment during the journey, the taxi finally arrived at a new block of apartments. Jen paid the driver, and held her evening’s prize so close as they walked to her front door. The key entered the lock, turned, and the door swung open. Rebecca was pushed inside. The door shuts.
Chapter 2: How to please your lover in 5 simple steps
“Im sorry, I’m really sorry, but it just isn’t the right time for me” said Rebecca, blushing. She got a look. Not a good one, a stern stare. The grip around her wrist tightened, she could see her girlfriend’s knuckles whitening ever so slightly, beneath that perfect skin. “You promised me, you fucking promised me last weekend” Jen snapped back. “You’re not going back on your word again”. Rebecca knew this was building up to be one of those evenings you never forget. The kind of evening that in years’ in the future, you’d refer to as that night. If truth be told, the previous 4 months of her life had contained more examples of times you could refer to as that night than probably the rest of her life put together. All of them were examples of very very good “that night”. But this one was beginning to feel different.
Most memorable was of course the night they’d met. A night out that had resulted in the two meeting for the first time, and after more glasses of champagne and vodka cocktails than she could quite remember, resulted in Rebecca spending the night with her soon to be girlfriend. A “one-night-stand” as they had both told themselves, that had developed in to the most beautiful of friendships and relationships… for a few months. But that was certainly not the end of the couple’s that night memories. As Rebecca stood in the kitchen of her girlfriend’s luxury apartment, her mind flitted back to the happier times.
Their second date (if date is the right word for an evening out that was simply a polite but compulsory pre-cursor to the passionate, intimate sexual encounter that they both so craved with one another) had led Jen to introduce the idea of ropes, cuffs, and crops to her partner. Whilst she had made no attempts to hold back from dictating the agenda on their first night together, Jen had deliberately not told Rebecca of her enjoyment of bdsm-based relationships. “Why risk embarrassment with a stranger, when it is only a one-night-stand” she had reasoned to herself. That one-night-stand idea was soon blown apart for both of them the following morning, when they had spent hours and hours wandering around the town, sitting in the little delicatessen for saturday breakfast together, so perfectly matched with their identical order of pancake stack with strawberries, chatting over several pots of tea, setting the world to rights together, before wandering back to the luxurious apartment and falling back in to bed together in the afternoon, and staying there through til the Sunday morning. No, this was the furthest thing from a one-night-stand that they had both quietly, secretly agreed with their inner selves.
Upon the second date’s suggestion from Jen about the idea of exploring her toy chest in a little more detail to her petite, blonde companion, Jen was overjoyed with the reaction that Rebecca provided her with. Whilst clearly inexperienced in this type of activity, Rebecca was obviously naturally very submissive in her mannerisms and her behaviour. A trait that Jen had most probably picked up on at first sight in the nightclub. Whilst inexperienced, Rebecca was keen to understand more about her partner’s likes and loves. Keen to explore the scary but erotic aspects of domination with her new companion, another weekend was spent primarily in the confines of those 4 walls of Jen’s bedroom – most definitely with the curtains shut. Their third date saw the two women manage to keep their hands off one another’s bodies, as they were at the opera, with Jen’s best friend Holly and her family. As Holly was one of the very few people to know that the two were a couple, it gave them an opportunity to explore their compatibility with one another outside of those now-familiar 4 walls. It was Rebecca’s first time to the opera, and she had become mesmerised by the experience, the stage presence and the beautiful songs. But perhaps most of all, a wonderful chance to experience one of her girlfriend’s (was that too early to say then, Rebecca didn’t know...) favourite pastimes outside of the bedroom.
It had been a hectic and head-spinning few weeks, and things seemed to spin even faster when Jen told Rebecca that they would be going to the countryside to see Jen’s parents. Meeting parents was something Rebecca had dreaded. But, despite her intense nerves, and failing to get any sleep at all the night before going thanks to those same nerves, it really went quite well. Rebecca was called a delight, and parents’ approval was most definitely given. Jen was so proud of her delightful, family-approved new partner that she just had to treat her to a shopping spree. On their way back from the countryside residence, Rebecca was taken to Louis Vuitton, Versace and Victoria’s Secret, with the instructions to pick whatever she wanted. Without wanting to seem mercenary, she was simply over the moon with her Sunday shopping spree. A trip to Ann Summers was Jen’s treat to them both.
The two spent as much time as they possibly could with one another, nights home alone for Jen, just months ago a die-hard singleton, lost any kind of appeal, and she would spend the time wondering what her petite blonde siren was doing. Equally, Rebecca’s nights that had to be spent back at her house, or back at her parents, had become lonely, empty, missing the company of her girlfriend (yes, surely it was appropriate now to call her that), missing the taste of her kisses, missing the excitement of the toy chest, missing the games and experiments that her dominant, controlling lover loved to play with her. Although it was still way too early for any official requests about moving in, Rebecca was lovingly offered, and happily accepted, a part of the walk-in wardrobe, for the gifts that Jen would purchase her. Some of the clothes were genuine gifts, beautifully wrapped and ribboned for her, making her eyes light up, and she would take them home and give them pride of place amongst her outfits. Others though were purchased for her to be worn on special occasions, evenings out with Jen’s friends, work functions that she wished to take her partner along to. Outfits which Jen had specially picked out, to complement her own dress for the night, Rebecca was her most perfect accessory. Or on other occasions, the items were outfits for a night spent in the confines of the 4 walls of the designer bedroom. These clothes stayed at Jen’s, in the part of the walk-in wardrobe assigned to Rebecca.
Perhaps the most vivid, happy memory Rebecca had, as she stood in the kitchen, with fierce brown eyes burrowing in to her, was of the night that Jen took her to a party of one of her work colleagues. Penny, a partner at Jen’s firm, was hosting a Spring ball, and Rebecca was treated to the most beautiful pink ball-gown in preparation for the party. Rebecca, petite, blonde, in pale pink, and Jen, tall, dark, in a sultry deep red ball gown, the two made a stunning couple. Attracting the attentions of most people at the party, they happily danced the night away. Lost in one another. Perhaps until their host Penny, whom Jen had warned Rebecca was also lesbian, and an incredibly confident, assertive one at that, had joked about purchasing her colleague’s partner for an evening. Upon leaving the party, the two shared jokes about the comment, Jen often joking for weeks after about selling Rebecca to her boss to fund her luxurious lifestyle. Laughing together, sharing everything together. That notion they both had had, about a one-night-stand, was well and truly long forgotten.
But, with Jen’s parents having been visited by the happy couple, Jen would ask Rebecca when she could meet Rebecca’s mum and dad. This filled Rebecca with dread. Sheer terror. She knew that her own parents were kind, caring, delightful people. But she couldn’t understand why anyone would be so desperate to meet her parents. In her head, meeting a partner’s parents was a terrifying experience anyway – that was her feelings and emotions toward it. She was doing Jen a favour, surely Jen could see that. They were fine as they were. They were faithful to one another, loyal, happy, in love. That was enough. But the occasional questioning from Jen on the subject of meeting parents, became occasional disagreements, became occasional rowing.
Both being taureans (a recipe for disaster some might say), their 4 month relationship had happened to span both their birthdays. Big birthdays. Important birthdays. Jen’s 40th birthday was spent in an expensive restaurant, with her parents, her best friend Holly (and family) and of course her girlfriend. A happy but quiet evening, with everyone she wanted present. Rebecca’s birthday on the other hand, was actually spanned over in to three celebrations. One with her family - a nice meal back at mums, one with her friends - celebrating turning 30 with drinks and dancing. And one with Jen. Without having introduced Jen to any of her friends or family, she knew that inviting her to a birthday with friends or with family would lead to questions. Very difficult questions that she really, really didn’t want to answer. And so, after the birthday celebrations, the requests from Jen to visit her girlfriend’s parents intensified.
Standing in the kitchen, Rebecca pleaded. “It’s really not a good time for me. I can’t do it, not today”. She heard the rain, coming down heavily now. Could she somehow use this as an excuse? Could she think of any other excuse? Her mind was blank. Jen took hold of her wrist again, and dragged her partner toward the front door. “We’re going, now, you’ll never be ready”, she snapped. “I want to be a part of your life, not a part of your alternative life”. Rebecca flicked her wrist, releasing Jen’s grip, although at the expense of leaving a deep scratch and red marks across the area. Jen saw the scratch, saw blood begin to gather.
“If you walk out now, that’s it” threatened Jen. Rebecca put her hand on the door handle. “You’re not fucking taking those with you” shouted Jen. Rebecca didn’t need to look down to know that absolutely everything she was wearing had been purchased by her girlfriend (probably pushing it now to call her this, she thought…). “This could be very awkward” she thought. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been ordered to strip in the hallway, but the tone and the intonations this time were a million miles away from the cool, strong erotic tones of that first night spent together. Looking back at Jen, she was just pointing at the Jimmy Choo slip-ons she’d been given as the comfortable footwear to wear on the way to, and back from, the Spring ball. Rebecca bent down and slipped them off. She held them out for her now probably ex-girlfriend. But Jen did not reciprocate, instead she just stood there, hands on hips. A silent stand-off. Rebecca blinked first, bending down and placing the shoes on the floor. Silence. “I’m sorry, it’s just now isn’t the right time” she pleaded, one final time. She knew it was in vain now. She couldn’t bear the silence, so she opened the door, and stepped out.
Standing on the doorstep, in the heavy rain, barefooted on the wet concrete step, she began to think. Really think. Was this really it? Would she really let the best period of her life end over this? Although she couldn’t quite imagine doing it, seeing her parents with Jen maybe wasn’t so bad, she’d have support. She remembered Jen’s comments from moments ago, “I want to be a part of your life, not a part of your alternative life”…. In that instant it made sense to her now, she’d been a bitch, she was in the wrong. The scratch on her wrist stung, the guilt in her head stung. The rain poured, in large droplets from the porch roof, on to her now sodden blonde hair. She began to turn on her heels, until she heard the door slam shut. This was that night.
Chapter 3: How to make friends and influence people
Rebecca sat in the uncomfortable, metal studded knickers and bra, perched on the end of the bed. She could see herself in the mirror, and gosh they looked wonderful on her, but they were so uncomfortable. They were still a little too small for her, despite her crash-dieting over the past week. Snow was settling on the window sill, and the soft glow of Christmas lights on the neighbours hedges and windows drifted in to the darkened room. The bed she was on was freshly made, with crisp sheets pulled tightly around the edges, and a cream silk bedding set spread over that. Neatly laid out on top of the silk bedding were the toys, big and scarily erotic, and firm black leather or cold metallic chrome. The flickering Christmas lights from outside occasionally catching the chrome, and glistening. A woman’s voice from outside the room called out “ready sweetie, handcuffs on?”. She rattled her handcuffed wrists against the chain metal leash hanging down from her leather collar choker, to give the sign (talking was forbidden), and in came her partner. “Lesson four tonight baby”, she was told….
Rebecca sat at her computer, her heart sinking. “She’s fucking done it again”, she thought. “Sorry Becs, you weren’t here yesterday afternoon, we didn’t know if you were going to be in today” chirped Stacy. “It’s booked, the table is just for four, sorry, there’s nothing we can do”. It was half past twelve, lunch time, and the girls in the office were about to head out to the fancy italian restaurant Stefano’s, for a complimentary two-course lunch, thanks to the restaurant voucher the team had won in the office Christmas raffle. Rebecca knew that she had been in the office virtually all afternoon yesterday, but had to leave half an hour early, before the end of the day for a doctor’s appointment. If Stacy had booked up the lunch at Stefano’s in that half-hour window, it was done deliberately because Rebecca wasn’t there to confirm her place. Still, she was sure as hell not going to give Stacy the satisfaction of seeing her upset. She beamed back at Stacy. “No probs, have a great meal, the desserts there are to die for, trust me”. Not that she knew. Not that she’d ever been, but she’d certainly make out to her colleagues that it was an everyday occurrence for her, a beautiful Italian meal was ten-a-penny in the world of Becs.
She watched the girls filter out of the door, chatting and giggling, and gave them a few minutes to get well-clear of the street, before heading out herself, over the road to Boots to pick up lunch for herself. Basket in hand, she wandered around, picking up bits and pieces she needed, as well as grabbing a sandwich and snacks for lunch. Queueing up by the self-serve counters, her mind had wandered to nothing in particular, a chance to relax on lunch without having to think about work was always a welcome respite. Her day-dreaming was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder.
“Hello stranger, how is everything with you and your girlfriend?”. She spun round, seeing the flame-red hair and flashing smile, she recognised the face, although couldn’t quite place from where. Slightly embarrassed as to her memory lapse, she tried to bluff her way through. “Ohh, heya, I’m very well thanks, and you?” she replied, deliberately ignoring the second part of the question. The flame haired woman smiled again. “Penny, I work with Jen, you came to our ball”, the flame haired woman replied, keen to embarrass Rebecca with the assertion that she had remembered Rebecca, whilst Rebecca had forgotten her. “Of course, sorry, yeah…. One of those mornings” said Rebecca, smiling. “Crap, I’ll have to talk about Jen now” she thought. “Let me get that”, demanded Penny, scooped Rebecca’s contents out of her basket and in to her own, and to the self-service machine, beeped at the items through, and paid. Rebecca winced a little as Penny rang through the discounted chocolate bars that been in Rebecca’s basket, along with the sushi California rolls, smoothie and expensive make-up from her own. They headed outside, to the benches to sit and eat.
Truth be told, very little happened in Penny’s world that was by-chance or unplanned. And this meeting in the shop was no exception. Having been promoted to regional manager six months ago, Penny spent her working hours in a different office, outside of the city. She had not spoken to many of her old work colleagues for almost all of that time, they were out of her sphere of influence now, and had lost all track of her old office gossip. Until last week, when she had been informed of the separation of Jen from her delightful young partner, not long after Penny had moved offices. After pushing for the name of the blonde ex from one or two people, and a few google searches, she’d located her place of work, and had spent the week learning Rebecca’s work-day lunch break time and routines. This was no chance-meeting, this was the fruition of a week-long carefully planned out strategy.
After getting Rebecca to admit to the break-up, six months prior, as they chatted in the little park, sitting on the bench, Penny put in to action her next stage of her plan. Reaching for the mobile that her lunch companion was idly fiddling with as they chatted, she took it, tapped her own number in, and waited for the call to connect. Feeling her own phone vibrate in her bag, she disconnected the call, and handed the mobile back to Rebecca. “There, we’ve got one another’s numbers now”, she beamed. Rebecca, a little taken aback, by this clear invasion of her privacy, took her phone back. But Penny had a way of making the clearly inappropriate seem almost charming, and soon had her lunch companion giggling and chatting freely. “We must go out tonight”, she said, “what do you say?”. “Sure” came the reply. “There’s a lovely little Italian place, not far from here, I’ll pick you up from home. What is your address” pushed Penny. And that was as simple as it needed be for Penny. One lunch break, one well-executed plan, and she’d got the girl’s phone number, address, and was meeting her tonight. Rebecca smiled. “Who needs Stacy and the voucher” she mused.
Dinner had been a delight, with champagne ordered on ice for the two of them. Penny had always been so skilled at making her companions feel at ease. Too skilled. And her abilities to make the inappropriate seem charming were never even challenged with the polite Rebecca as a companion. “I’ll order something nice for you” she’d said, when she requested just the one menu from the waiter. And desserts were limited to those served in a shot glass with a slice of lemon. “Think of the calories in all that cream” she’d cooed to her date. “No no, we don’t want cake, you need to try limoncello, it is divine” as she coerced Rebecca in to more alcohol. And so, as their meal finished, they wandered back to the chauffeur-driven car, and Penny told the driver to take them both back to her house.
The last thing Rebecca had really wanted at the time was a relationship. But Penny was so skilled at persuasion. And besides, this wasn’t going to be a “relationship”. Her week-long preliminary research on Rebecca, by probing her ex-colleagues for information, had provided her with the key, salient information she needed. The girl was scared of commitments, and of explaining things to her family. This suited Penny down to the ground. She’d have had no intention of taking Rebecca back to see her parents and family anyway, and certainly didn’t want to meet Rebecca’s parents.
And this was how she persuaded Rebecca that a secret, private affair between the two of them was perfect - just what both of them wanted. No families, no friends to be introduced to. “Just the two of us” she’d said, stroking Rebecca’s hand. Just the two of them was absolutely the last thing Penny wanted, she wanted plenty of others involved, but this could wait for the time being, the girl didn’t need to know all the details, not yet. Careful hints could get her to diet a little, stop her lunch-time chocolate binges, in order to get her to fit in to some of the expensive specialist bdsm clothing she had ready to use upstairs. And the rest would follow.
And so the two of them embarked on their affair, that night, drunk on champagne and limoncello. “We’ll just need to break some of those bad habits you’ll have gotten in to with Jennifer” said Penny, as she led Rebecca upstairs. “This will be lesson one, learning how you’ll need to adapt to my way of things - Jennifer is, how you might say, a little more relaxed than I am with rules”. Rebecca was excited, but scared too. Could she explore these kinds of things with someone whom she, perhaps, wasn’t madly in love with? But, for the all downsides she’d mentally noted down in her minds’ pros and cons list, the up-sides, namely that there would not be any pressure from Penny to meet Rebecca’s family or friends, plus of course that she was very lonely and missed the physical intimacy, won through.
And, as much as she’d loved Jen, she had always been slightly hesitant about the status they had, was she her girlfriend, her submissive, or something in-between? With Penny, this had been made abundantly clear, she was Penny’s property, Penny was her Mistress. And so the lessons began. Every weekend, for a month, as Rebecca became more and more moulded to the desire of her new partner.
Chapter 4: How to not live your life
The clock radio on the dresser crackled out pop songs, on the poorly tuned reception. Several of the songs playing were some of her favourites, but she barely heard them. Barely aware of the music drifting softly through the bedroom. Lexi flicked back her jet black hair behind her ear, and opened the water bottle. Taking a couple of sips, she screwed the lid back on and placed it back on the dresser of the strange en-suite bedroom she found herself in. She then opened the hip flask from off the dresser, and took a mouthful of whisky. She swished it round her mouth, before wandering, naked, through to the bathroom, and spitting it out in to the sink. Before pouring a few drinks worth of the whisky down the sink.
This was the usual ritual, that she was used to now. She caught her reflection staring back at her in the bathroom mirror. Her name, “LEXI” spelled out in vivid red lipstick across her chest, along with a few other less salubrious words. A legacy of her 1st play-date of the evening. Still, the two others that had followed so far, since her first, had seemed to like her body art. She glanced at her watch, the only personal item she was allowed in the room. 11.28pm. “Fuck, hours left” she thought. She walked back in to the bedroom, and picked up the white silk bra and knickers, left on the floor from her recently completed date. She dressed herself in the lingerie, and looked out of the window. Aimlessly. As so much of her life had seemed to be recently. A knock on the door. “2 minutes til the next woman, Lexi, get yourself ready please”, called out the voice. “Cuffed to the bed please”.
Lexi ran round the room, gathering up the crops, chains, mask, and sex toys that had been scattered, and placed them back in the wicker basket, the “Welcome basket” for her next partner. She then lay down on the hard bed, and clicked the one handcuff loop around her left wrist. Then the other loop around the bed frame. She rattled it against her chain leash to confirm to the voice outside she was ready. Awaiting her next play-date…..
Jen’s life had progressed well in the past few months, work was good, her love life was good. She was happy again. She was seeing a friend of a friend, not for long, and not serious yet, but fun. They had even talked about a summer holiday in Greece together, enjoying the sun, sea, and… well, the rest of the activities that holidays entailed. And so this lunch-time, she was spending the hour browsing through holiday websites, picking out potential villas, working out a flight schedule. She was hardly even listening to her work colleague, far too busy planning the holiday, and thinking about what takeaway to get for that night, when her colleague’s conversation drifted on to the subject of their now re-located boss, Penny. And her new girlfriend. Jen snapped back in to focus. She knew Penny better than she’d ever admit to most. And she most definitely knew that Penny didn’t have girlfriends. The term ‘Girlfriend’ suggested far too even a footing in the relationship for both parties. No no, Penny did not do girlfriends at all.
Penny’s lessons with her blonde submissive had progressed very well over the previous month, completely on schedule. Although, given that it had all been immaculately planned out, this was probably not a surprise. Rebecca had kept on coming to her regular lessons, and had developed all the skills Penny desired. Early on in her education, Rebecca had been told that she would play in the role of “Lexi”. All of Penny’s submissives played under the name “Lexi”. Complete with a black bob wig, taking on a character had initially seemed odd to Rebecca. She had joked that this was so Penny didn’t call out the wrong name, during the throes of passion. Although this was not a joke that had gone down well, and she had been punished for it with the cane. However, this was just one of the very few misdemeanours that Rebecca had fallen in to, which had broken Penny’s rules. “Rules are there to be followed” she’d been told. “Rules help everyone know what is expected, and what in turn they can expect”, and “Everyone has more fun when they follow the rules” were two of the sayings that had been drummed in to Rebecca.
Another of Penny’s rules had been the alcohol that Rebecca, when in character as Lexi, was allowed. “Vodka is for cheap hussies, Lexi does not like Vodka. Whisky is a far more demure drink. Whisky is what my Lexi drinks, Whisky is what my Lexi’s kisses taste of” Penny had lectured. Rebecca didn’t like whisky though. She hated the taste. So, she had found a secret way around one of Penny’s rules, the one and only example of her spirit and disobedience left. She knew she needed to be drunk enough to ease her inhibitions, and so had asked if she could bring a bottle of mineral water to have with the whisky, to help her get used to the taste. “Of course, I’m not a dragon” had laughed Penny in reply. Hence a water bottle filled with vodka acted as her painkiller for the lessons when they had stopped being fun, whilst a swill of whisky around her mouth, and pouring away a few shots worth every now and then, would be able to convince her mistress that she was obeying the rules.
Rebecca, despite her early hesitancy, had actually found the role-playing, the wigs and the dressing up a relief. A way to rationalise the lessons that she’d been attending. It was no longer Rebecca, - the office girl, the shy but genuine and friendly girl, who was attending these lessons. It was Lexi, who had given her mind and body over to someone else. Handed over control, to be degraded and used. This was how Rebecca (or Lexi, or a combination of the two personas) had got through to the end of the lesson plan. And upon completion of the final lesson, Penny had announced that Rebecca was now ready for her parties.
Rebecca may have been inexperienced, but she was certainly not stupid, and knew what the parties would entail. Some of the lessons in Penny’s programme had included having another girl watch her play-sessions with Penny, and toward the end, joining in with the play–sessions, and then leading the play-sessions. Penny’s intentions from the start, as with all her submissives, had been to develop Rebecca in to her perfect toy. And, what fun were toys, if she couldn’t share them with her friends. She wanted all of her friends to play with her new toy, see how fun it was, and get very jealous. For this was her toy, okay to be played with by others, but ultimately, hers. And there was a party arranged for the following weekend. At the home of one of her old friends, from London. Would her new toy be ready for it? So long as she remembered her lessons, absolutely.
And so, as the week passed by, and the weekend finally came around, the flame-haired mistress and her petite blonde submissive, along with a suitcase containing everything required for the party, boarded the intercity train to London. Penny put her hand upon Rebecca’s knee. “You’ll be wonderful, baby. Just remember to be polite, and obedient, yes?”. Rebecca stared out of the window. Watching countryside flash past. Aimlessly staring. She tried to remember when it had stopped being fun. She tried to remember what it had been like when it was fun…. Was it ever fun, was it ever sensual? It must have been once… yes, it definitely used to be. But it had crossed over in to something else now. It had crossed over in to something that needed vodka to kill the sensations. To something that made her heart feel numb of any emotions. To something that she wished she knew how to end, but just wasn’t strong enough. And was only getting weaker and weaker.
Jen wanted to forget the whole conversation she’d had with her colleague. Wanted to pretend it had never happened. What the fuck did she care what Penny and that bitch did. If they were really together, then it probably answered all the questions that had run through her mind since last summer. Why the fuck that bitch would turn her back on the relationship they had built together, for this fucked up, mess of a situation. She knew what Penny liked. She knew all about the parties Penny organised. She knew, as she’d been to some of them. She wasn’t proud, but in the same way that a treat from the sweet-shop must have been like heavenly torment for a recovering bulimia sufferer, these parties were just too tempting an opportunity for her, back then. Not that she didn’t feel incredibly grubby afterwards, but in the heat-of-the-moment, she had been too weak to resist.
But, in the past 7 months, she’d pushed Rebecca to the back of her mind, she’d moved on with her life, she’d learned to be happy again. But she’d had no closure with that bitch. She wanted to scream and shout and pour her vitriolic abuse on to the girl who’d walked out of her apartment. As much as she told herself to let it go, to ignore those feelings, she just couldn’t. Not now she knew where the bitch would be, and when. Which is why she found herself driving down to London, on the Saturday night, to attend Penny’s party. She was pretty sure that she could reduce her ex to tears pretty fast, she was sure there was still sufficient history between them. “Probably not great orgy etiquette” she mused, but, heck, it wouldn’t be the first time someone cried at one. It’s a hazard of the occupation.
Following her GPS, she got closer to the venue. Running through her bitter, angry speech in her head time and time again, to punish the girl. All of the other women would be there to fuck her. She certainly wasn’t. Nor was she there to relive old times or share catch up, she was going to attend the party for one reason alone, to get closure on the bitch. Finally Jen reached her destination - a Victorian townhouse, on a very normal looking street, in north London. She had been here before, this was one of the regular venues for the parties. She looked at the clock on the car dashboard. 11.28pm. The party had started at 10, and would go on til 4. She sat and composed herself. This was the one opportunity she would give herself to see the bitch again, and she needed to make sure she was word-perfect. That her words inflicted the amount of pain she wanted them to. She composed herself. And rehearsed. And waited. For well over an hour. Revenge was a dish best served cold.
When finally ready she opened the car door, pushed it shut, and walked over to the house. She wore a fitted red leather jacket, black skirt and white blouse. May as well look the part, even if tonight was as far removed from a bdsm play session for her as possible. She knocked the door, and was greeted by one of the party goers, who recognised her. “Hello Jen, long time no see. We thought you weren’t going to make it tonight”. Jen kissed her fellow partygoer, and went through to the lounge. There she was given the next free play session, 2am, with Lexi. Penny walked in to the room, and seeing Jen, smiled and wandered over to her. “Now you play nice, Jennifer” she said, before flashing her smile. The smile that said “I’ve got all the cards now”. Penny had so hoped Jen would attend, it would give her a wonderful thrill to know Jen will see how she had moulded the girl. A little like proudly showing off the expensively re-decorated rooms in your house, to the old owners. A mental two-fingers up to them, saying “see, you didn’t think of that, did you. You didn’t see the potential this place had”.
Jen sat and waited. Watched as the 1am and the 1.30am play-dates proceeded upstairs for their fun, before finally, finally, the wall clock in the lounge announced it was 1.58am. Lexi would have now had her 2 minute warning to be ready. She stood up, and walked out of the lounge, to the bottom of the stairs. A key for a set of cuffs was pressed in to her hand. And she was told to go on upstairs, 1st room on the left. Her heart beat hard, pumping almost out of her chest, she felt. This was it. Her chance for cathartic relief. To clear this girl out of her memories once and for all. To pour her vitriolic words on to the bitch that had so wronged her. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door. The speech running through her head. “You fucking pathetic bitch” she spat out…..
Chapter 5 - How to make yourself heard in a crowd
Rebecca awoke with a start. A bad dream had jolted her back in to consciousness. Consciousness which happened to be in a small, dingy hotel room that she did not recognise one bit. The bed was just a single, with a very thin duvet covering her, and a very seventies-style flower print bed spread, wearing thin in several places she could notice immediately, without hardly having to lift her head. Also a couple of stains here and there on the pillow and on the spread.
Her head ached, a dull thumping headache. But this was minor in comparison to her body, wracked with aches and pains all over her torsoe, her arms and legs. She tried to remember what she was doing here, where on earth she was, but there was nothing being shuffled to the front of her memory. She looked at the clock radio on a bedside table, the other side of the bed. 10.15am. Wow, she’d slept in late. She looked again at the display, trying to make out the date on the small, electronic display. SUN 15 FEB it read. The day after the party. Where was Penny? Had Penny given her to someone else for the night, after the party finished? Was she still in London? Or elsewhere?
Rebecca started to panic a bit, as even in her most drunken of nights, something came back to her mind from the night before. She could remember a few of the play-dates, but not many. She might not even recognise the woman that Penny had given her to. She was naked underneath the thin, cheap duvet, and wanted to find her clothes to get dressed. She peered around the bed. Just one of the sets of lingerie and a set of heels, that they’d packed in to the suitcase back at Rebecca’s yesterday morning. But nothing else. No skirt or jeans or sweater or anything. She climbed out of bed, swaying slightly, and stood. She walked around the bed. Still no clothes, apart from the knickers and bra. Maybe the bathroom, she thought. She paced across the room, and in to the tiny little bathroom. Nothing – no clothes, no mobile, nothing. Fuck. She was completely trapped here, unless she wanted to parade down to reception in her bra and knickers. She sat down on the edge of the bath. She wanted to cry, wanted to sob and sob, but she just felt empty. As she sat in the bathroom, she heard a key turn in a lock. The front door to the hotel room she was in. She couldn’t see the front door from in the bathroom, but heard a voice call out “hey, I got coffee and muffins”.
“You fucking pathetic bitch” spat Jen, recanting the opening line of her well-rehearsed speech. Pause, she thought. Rebecca was laid out on her side on the bed. Wearing white matching knickers and bra, the leather collar with an attached metal chain, and what looked to be a most comical black bob wig. She looked like a 1920’s gangsters moll. If it weren’t for the hatred she felt, she could probably fall about laughing at the funny sight. But no, she had her plan. Hold eye contact, leave a silence for a while, she hates silences. She held eye contact, and to her surprise, so did Rebecca.
Rebecca’s eyes with that alcohol-glaze, seemed vacant. She was looking directly at Jen, but Jen wasn’t entirely sure if she had registered anyone. “This fucking bitch hasn’t even bothered to move, to stand up or anything” she thought, until the key held in her hand triggered the realisation, “she can’t, she’s cuffed to the bed”. Still in silence, still holding eye contact. That glazed look beginning to haunt her. The sparkle in those eyes that she had so enjoyed seeing, all those months ago, when they had fun together, completely gone. Just a vacant look there now. Jen couldn’t even tell if the girl hated her, liked her, was relieved to see her, was scared. There was absolutely nothing, except perhaps the sheer resignation of what had happened for the previous 4 hours, and would happen for the next 2.
The eyes haunted her so much, that she had to look away, beaten at her own staring game. But looking at the eyes was nothing compared to when she cast her gaze over her ex’s body. When they had been a couple, the first thing Jen had to get over was how fragile the girl looked. She actually wasn’t, she went to the gym and swimming a bit, and was actually more robust than she looked, but it had taken a bit of effort for Jen to overcome this frail, fragile look. But her body now, surely she had never looked this fragile when they were together. She looked broken. Bright red lipstick-written words, daubed over her chest, her thighs, and her tummy. Faint bruises beginning to appear on her breasts. Red lines, she assumed from a cane, predominantly across her thighs, although also a little on her torsoe. She could just about see part of Rebecca’s bottom, bright red, most likely a paddle or a crop. And most painfully of all for Jen, what she hadn’t expected, was a small scar on her left wrist, from a scratch mark a year ago.
In this instant, the hatred she held for this girl shifted. Shifted completely away from Rebecca, and inward on to herself. She had been the one who first brought bdsm in to this girl’s life. She had been the one who’d introduced her to Penny. She had been the one who had slammed the door shut on her girlfriend that night. She was the one who rejected phone call after phone call in the following days and weeks, and she was the one who’d just sat in her kitchen, unmoved, when Rebecca had called to her apartment that time, begging on the other side of the door to talk. She had created the perfect storm that had devastated this girl’s life.
Realising that she had just been standing there, in silence, for god knows how long, Jen came to her senses. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. Nothing in reply. Again, she wasn’t entirely sure that the girl had registered hearing anything. She walked to the bedframe, inserted the key in to the cuffs lock, and clicked open the bracelet around Rebecca’s wrist. Barely a flicker from the girl. She took off her red leather jacket and wrapped it around the girl’s shoulders. She had done this to the girl, she had driven her to this, and there really was no choice over what she had to do now. She helped Rebecca to her feet, and feeling that she was very wobbly, supported her as she walked her drunk companion to the bedroom door. Careful to support Rebecca’s balance whilst opening the door, the two stepped out in to the corridor. “Just got to get her out of the house”, she thought. “Once we’re in the street, we’ll be okay, its public, they won’t be able to stop me walking her back to my car”.
However at the base of the stairs, one of the partygoers walked past. “She’s not very well, I’m going to get her a glass of water” Jen said calmly, trying to not raise any alarm. The woman disappeared in a hurry back toward the living room. “Fuck, got to be quick” thought Jen. Hurriedly, she rushed Rebecca down the last few stairs, and toward the front door. They were within yards, when Penny came out of the lounge. Coolly, she said “And what exactly is the matter with her?”, “It’s my half hour with her, it’s up to me what we do”, lied Jen. “If I want to take her outside to publicly humiliate her, I will. She owes me, Penny. You know that”. “No” came the reply. “It’s not within the rules”. Penny reached forward, and took hold of the chain leash. “Why the fuck did I not take that off in the room” Jen silently thought to herself.
With Jen trying to pull Rebecca, by her arm, to the door, and Penny throttling her with the collar as she yanked back the chain, Rebecca was falling this way and that. None of the other women wanted to get involved, this was obviously a highly personal issue between the two. To the bystanders, it must have looked like two nursery children fighting over a favourite dolly. Jen managed to reach the front door handle with her free hand, open it, and hook her foot round to open the door fully. She pulled hard, and the three fell out on to the porch. Jen and Penny screaming at each other now. Loud enough for lights in the neighbouring houses to be switched on, at this obscenely early hour of the morning. Realising the scene being caused, Penny tried one last attempt to get her toy back inside the house, a fierce yank of the chain, but Jen would not let go. She released the chain, and said “Party’s over, I am afraid” to the small group still in attendance. Jen hurried Rebecca back to her car, sat her in the passenger seat, and sped away.
It was too far to drive the two hours back home from London at that time, especially as she was concerned about Rebecca. They needed to find a hotel to check in to. She’d got all her credit cards in her purse, so this wasn’t an issue, but how on earth would she get a near unconscious girl wearing just knickers, bra and a leather coat (and a collar and leash, for fuck’s sake she really needed to take that off the poor girl), in to a hotel? She thought, possibly a very seedy sort of hotel might not frown upon this quite as much. And so, turning in to the car park of an extremely seedy hotel, they parked, and went inside.
Once the awkwardness of checking in was complete, Jen could take Rebecca up to the room. She ran the bath, stripped her, and gently sunk her in to the water. Using the flannel and hand wash, she began removing the lipstick body art from Rebecca’s body. She was trying to avoid the cane marks with the hand wash as best she could, but at times they intersected. It must have stung so much, but Rebecca remained still and quiet. Only when it was all gone did Jen help her out of the bath, wrapping a towel around Rebecca whilst sitting her on the edge of the bath. Rebecca’s hands wandered up Jen’s legs, stroking and caressing. Jen took hold of the girl’s hands, and pushed them down and away, back to her side. Rebecca had barely said a word since Jen had launched her initial tirade, back in the play-room. Jen felt so guilty about that, but also did not know if Rebecca really knew what was happening. That this wasn’t just another of her play-dates under the supervision of Penny. But the main reason she had pushed Rebecca’s hands away was that Jen knew that she didn’t deserve the attention of this blonde submissive girl. Not now. Not after everything that she’d caused in Rebecca’s life, by abandoning her, all that time ago. She put the girl to bed, and took the chair for herself.
Rebecca had fallen asleep fast. Jen was glad. She’d looked exhausted. But the frailness of her body haunted Jen, who had hardly slept at all. As soon as she knew the nearby shops were open, Jen left the hotel room, and went shopping, for fresh clothes and for breakfast. Upon returning, she found a clearly confused and upset Rebecca, in the bathroom. Handing her a coffee cup and a cellophane-wrapped blueberry muffin, the two sat, and talked, Jen filling in as much of the gaps in Rebecca’s memory of last night as she could.
Chapter 6: How to move on
Rebecca sat back in her chair, feeling totally satisfied, and very full. It hadn’t taken much to leave her feeling like this these days, since her dramatic weight loss toward the end of her relationship with Penny. A combination of being pushed and persuaded to diet, to look more svelte for her mistress and her partygoers, and the depressed state that she had entered had meant that her appetite had crashed to an all-time low. But she was slowly getting better, supervised meal by supervised meal, she was gradually eating more and more, until today when she could legitimately finish the entire meal.
Her supervision was provided by Jen, every day since they had been reunited three weeks ago in London. Alcohol had been banned from every meal, and she had now been sober for that entire time. She now sat, the last remnants of bananas, blueberries and pancakes gone from her plate, looking at her breakfast companion. A smile from Jen, who was finishing her own pancake stack off, was reciprocated by Rebecca. No words. There didn’t need to be at this moment. The silence between them was comfortable, a silence that showed that they were both content with their place in life at this moment in time. The bell above the delicatessen door jingled, as more hungry breakfast customers entered.
Rebecca sat and silently people-watched her fellow customers. People-watching had become one of her favourite pastimes. A chance to get a glimpse in to someone’s life for 5 seconds, 30 seconds, 10 minutes, a day, or however long the time was that you spent watching them. You had no idea of what had gone on in their life before, and no ideas where their lives would head when they left your vicinity, but for that brief instant in time, your lives and theirs intertwine ever-so-slightly. You get an opportunity to look in through the window to their soul, and they do to you.
Jen sat across from Rebecca on the little table, eating the remaining portion of her pancakes. She’d watched the change in this girl over the past three weeks, from broken to fixed, from painfully thin back to the petite but healthy figure that she had known before. And from vacant, glassy-eyed back to the sparkling glint that she’d remembered. A mouth can easily be made to smile, be faked to give the impression that everything was ok when it wasn’t. But you can’t fake the smile of an eye. She too enjoyed watching the customers come and go. She liked to play a game, to pretend that each was a celebrity. To see who she thought they looked like. Glancing around the busy Saturday morning rush-hour at the breakfast bar, she’d already spotted a blonde girl who bore some slight resemblance to Britney Spears, in for a takeaway bacon sandwich with her boyfriend, who had had a very faint look of a young Hugh Grant. A strange celebrity pairing if ever she’d seen one !!
The tinkle of the bell as the door opened again. This time a group of young guys, coming in and queueing up for their morning caffeine fix. Five boys, laughing and playfully jostling in to one another, Jen smiled, as she mentally gave them the identity of One Direction. And what would the other customers make of her and her breakfast companion, she thought wistfully. Probably a young Uma Thurman out to breakfast with her decrepit old auntie, she teased herself. Before mentally adding, “If anyone does think I’m her auntie, I’ll bloody kill them”. Swallowing her last mouthful of pancake, she couldn’t help but reflect upon the events of the previous three weeks….
Having tenderly dressed Rebecca in the joggers and vest-top that she had been out to buy, they sat together on the bed in the cheap, sleazy London hotel room. The clothes not exactly flattering, but having stared at that beaten body all night, Jen knew it would need to be loose-fitting clothing to reduce the pain that she was in. Rebecca wincing and shifting positions to try and find a comfortable one, one where she didn’t have to put too much weight upon her beaten bottom, and one where she could slouch a little, and not have to sit up, with the injuries to her chest.
Jen had wanted to take her to the hospital, but Rebecca had insisted not to. Jen’s mobile had rung three times now. Penny each time. She’d ignored it. She wasn’t going to let Rebecca know who it was. But upon hearing a faint hum of the mobile on vibrate, Rebecca had been reminded that she needed to get back her own mobile, as well as the clothes that she’d brought down in the suitcase for the weekend away. And having told Jen this, Jen wearily called back Penny. Penny wanted to meet them. Well, no not them, she wanted to meet with Rebecca. Jen had shouted back down the phone, but though it went totally against her better judgements, she finally relented when Rebecca had intervened, and said that she would meet Penny, get her things back from her, and talk to her.
They arranged for Jen and Rebecca to drive back to the house from last night, and across the road, there was a small park, with trees and a wooden bench, and so, Jen found herself now, sitting in her car, watching her petite blonde friend limp across the road, toward Penny and the bench.
“If you need me, just wave back to the car, I’ll be there in two seconds flat” she had told Rebecca before releasing the door switch. “If she does or says anything you don’t like, I’ll be there. I am here for you”. And so she watched the two, unable to hear anything they were saying, but coiled and ready to bolt across the road at the slightest hint of trouble. She almost wanted to go over, and strip Rebecca down to her bra and knickers to show Penny the marks. But she sat, and waited. The exact same parking space she’d sat and waited for over an hour last night, practising her speech, hating the one person who in this whole sorry mess was entirely innocent. She had sat and waited in this exact place while that poor girl was over in that play-room being beaten and used. The hatred that she had felt for Rebecca had totally been turned in upon herself now, for waiting so long to finally take any action. Would she ever forgive herself for that? Probably not, but she didn’t really know.
Finally, she saw the two women stand up from the bench, embrace one another, before Penny handed over a carrier bag of clothes, handed Rebecca her mobile, and kissed her on the forehead. Was there a tear in Penny’s eye? Jen peered, and thought she could see one, although Penny made no attempts to wipe it away. Rebecca walked back to the car with her items. She climbed in. No words spoken. Jen drove away from the street, and away from London. The car radio played pop songs, filling the car with tuneful melodic music. The same station as had crackled in the play-room the night before.
Penny, in the week before the party, had advised Rebecca to book the first few days of the following week off work, so there was no need for her to phone in sick on the Monday. Instead, Jen came round to her house, collected her, and took her back to her apartment, to look after her. She took Rebecca’s tee-shirt off so she could see the bruises, see the cane lines. They were better, a little, starting to heal. She tugged down Rebecca’s leggings to see the cane marks and bruises over her thighs. These were more severe than the ones on her torsoe, but these too were getting better. She held Rebecca’s hand, running her finger-tips across the scar upon her wrist. The two of them looked at one another. “I’m so sorry” Jen whispered. Rebecca leant forward, and kissed her. Softly and tenderly, as their lips brushed sensually against one another. As their tongues danced and caressed. Jen’s hand tentatively tracing over the marks on her partner’s thighs, a silent question to her, whether she was okay with this, given her injuries. Rebecca answered by placing her hand on top of Jen’s, their fingers interweaving, and moving the two hands higher up her thigh….
Leaning back in her chair, drinking the last of her cup of tea, Jen looked across the delicatessen table at Rebecca. Sitting there, idly playing with her phone, sipping from the glass of fresh orange juice every now and then. They had become close again over the past 3 weeks. Jen had obviously had to break up with her new partner. She felt bad, but it was the only fair thing to do. To be right by everybody. She still had days when she woke up, having dreamt the same kinds of dreams she had done for the past 6 months, hating Rebecca in those dreams, blaming her for everything. And then the mixed emotions of her old state of mind with her new one, the acceptance that she was to blame, not Rebecca, and the emotional guilt for what had happened to Rebecca on that fateful evening. She had wanted to talk more about that night, and the couple of months that Rebecca had been with Penny for, with Rebecca. It was awkward though, as she didn’t want to appear to be dragging up something that Rebecca was uncomfortable about. She just wanted Rebecca to know that she could talk about it, if she needed to. Jen had half considered jokingly calling her “Lexi” to try and get Rebecca talking, but had decided against it. “She’ll tell me in her own time” she pondered.
The bell tinkled again above the door, and Jen nicknamed this new customer the Colonel, as he had a little white beard, and white hair, and black rimmed glasses, making him look like the cartoon character from KFC. The sun poured in through the windows, it was going to be a beautiful day, she thought. They’d not been early enough to get a table by the window, but that didn’t matter. The bell tinkled again, as the group of boys exited with their caffeine, and a balding man who looked like one of the weathermen from the television wandered in. She racked her brain, but couldn’t think of his name, “ahh well, I’ll just call you weatherman then” she giggled to herself. The silence between the two of them had dragged on a little too long now. It was still comfortable, but they didn’t want to seem like they’d become distant with one another. The bell tinkled again. Jen saw a blonde middle-aged woman enter the delicatessen. Jen decided that woman looked a little like her breakfast companion, albeit twenty-five years or so older. “Ohh, this is perfect” thought Jen, “we’ll have a good giggle at what Becs will look like in twenty-five years' time”. She turned to Rebecca, ready to break the silence with her quip about Rebecca’s middle-aged doppelganger. But Rebecca was already staring intently at Jen, as she turned to face her. Rebecca clasped Jen’s hands in between her own. “There’s someone I would very much like you to meet”, she said softly.
FIN.
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A Year in the life of Rebecca - 
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