I walk home.
One week till the new job starts.
I can only wait until the end of the day when it's time to pick up Chloe. Nothing to do. Nothing to look forward to.
I let Alice go. She wouldn't say a word. I begged her to listen to my side of the story: I didn't know what those women told her, but I could imagine; I swore I wanted to see her again, that whatever there might have been between me and other women was over.
Not a word. She kept walking until I accepted that, if we could ever patch things up, that was not going to happen there and then.
So, I walk. Slowly. The morning air is already warm. The sun is high, and the light falls through the leaves on the branches above my head and dapples the asphalt under my feet. Cars slowly drive past; they flow into the major arteries of the city; they split again into smaller branches and arrive at their destination. There are millions of lives being lived all around me: each one is a mystery to me, so close and yet so remote. People walk in my direction. I glance at them when they get close, unknown faces, each one with their history, their hopes, their dreams, their little naughty thoughts they can't confess.
Is everyone else's life so messy and so miserable? Is everyone else so lost, so unable to control their existence? Do they feel the same distance between who they are and who they want to be?
I half-expect to learn they're all rotten, once you open them up. Rotten like my life, so unhappy and eager to lean into my worst instincts and capable only of making things worse for myself. Rotten like Cynthia's life, who needs to turn everyone into her toys to play and toss away. Rotten like the life of Doctor Connor who feels sick and is damned to give everyone false cures she doesn't believe in.
I open the little gate and walk the narrow path between the buildings, flanked by the aspidistras, the cordylines, and the liriopes. These are the little, domesticated pleasures left to the divorced dad: a few dull plants to remind you of the public gardens of your childhood.
I notice the hose is dripping and the pavement is cracked in a few points. The maintenance of the place is reduced to a minimum. I think it's mostly rentals in the building, and landlords do not owe us any more than a roof over our heads. It seems nobody owes me anything any way, and, even if I feel shortchanged, my protestations are useless.
As I turn the corner to get to the front door of my apartment, I see the shape of three women waiting at the door. I notice the bright shades of their dresses, the hair of different lengths and colour.
Cynthia.
Yvonne.
Rachel.
I walk the steps that take me up to the front door. I feel that they have no right to stand on the small landing, to bar my entrance, to demand my attention.
'So, what is it?' I ask.
They can't blackmail me anymore: they have used their only ammunition and told everything to Alice. They have broken the chains that bound me to them. At least.
They have done the work for me. As painful as this has been, they have done me a favour. Now, there women and I are equals. There is no reason on Earth why I should tolerate their company any longer.
'Come on, do be like that…' Cynthia sneers.
'We've come to lick your wounds!' Yvonne adds.
Her stupid, irrational bubbliness irritates me even more than Cynthia's cruelty, and I barely realise what I'm doing as I slap Yvonne hard on her face.
She brings a hand to her cheek.
'Hey!' she cries out.
I instantly regret raising my hand on her, no matter how angry I feel: this gesture has turned me into the bad…
Bang!
Four of Cynthia's knuckles and a couple of her rings, squeezed up in a fist, meet my face. Say what you want about these women: they might be spoilt, they might be lazy and entitled, but the spin classes, the boot camps, the weightlifting with the private coach, and the regular gym sessions to keep their bodies in shape mean that they can throw a punch, and their punch hurts.
I feel my nose split and a gush of blood pour down my nostrils.
'You bitch,' I yell, preparing to return the punch.
I miss.
I miss for the simple reason that Rachel's knee is quickly raised to meet my groin.
'Oh, fuck!' I gasp.
I stumble and use the momentum of my fall to take down Cynthia who's standing in front of me.
She comes down, and I'm on top of her, but my advantage is short lived: a feel an arm wrap itself around my neck, cut my air supply, and pull me back. Then, I'm on the ground. I feel the barbs of stiletto heels coming down on my back. I feel the tip of Ferragamo shoes kicking me. Shellac nails scratch me.
Somehow, someone gets a hold of my keys. The front door is opened, and I'm being dragged upstairs, into the apartment, into the bedroom.
'What do you want?' I yell.
Rachel can barely control her indignation:
'You don't lift a finger on a woman, you understand, you piece of shit?'
'What the fuck do you want?' I repeat.
Yvonne, her bubbliness a little in check, says:
'We wanted to say sorry. We didn't know she would take it so badly…'
'Well, she did, you piece of…'
Bam!
Cynthia hits me on the face again.
'I guess things are different now,' she says.
'I'll show you…' I threaten, tasting the metallic flavour of my blood in my mouth.
I launch myself on her, but Rachel grabs me by the neck and squeezes.
'I… can't… breathe…'
Bam!
Another punch in the face.
'This will teach you to behave.'
'What… do… you… want?' I hiss.
'To give you a lesson.'
Cynthia seems to be thinking, then she says:
'Clothes off.'
Yvonne giggles. She begins to undo my pants.
I want to kick her, to rebel, but Rachel is still holding me ('Come on, buddy!' she says. 'Is this all you've got?'). I can barely get a mouthful of oxygen once in a while. Damn this woman and her C-round of investment into her fitness company!
Cynthia unbuttons my pants.
'What do you want to do, Cyn?' Yvonne asks excitedly clapping her hands.
'On the bed!' Cynthia orders.
Rachel pushes me onto the bed.
'Now… girls,' Cynthia asks, 'what should we do to a very bad man who mistreats fine women like ourselves?'
'You understand it's all over between us, Cyn?' I growl at her.
She laughs:
'You think you're the only man around with a dick? You don't want to see us? Fine! But you still need to learn to be thankful and…'
'More respectful,' Rachel adds, punching me on the back of the head, as I try to lift myself.
Yvonne, who had disappeared into the living room, reappears.
'How about this?'
I look up, through my puffy eyelids, at the green cylinder in her hand.
'Oh, for fuck's sake, Yvonne,' Cynthia exclaims a little exasperated, 'you and your zucchini!'
Yvonne is a little bashful:
'It's actually a cucumber. That's all he had.'
'It makes no difference!' Cynthia says. 'I'm not going to ass-rape him.'
'Yeah… right.'
Yvonne is a little sad about this. She looks at the vegetable and puts it in her Chanel bag for later use.
I'm relieved, but that doesn't last long.
I feel the burning pain first, and I register the woosh afterwards.
'How about this?' Rachel asks holding my own belt in her hand.
I'm howling in pain.
'Looks right to me,' Cynthia says.
She opens the wardrobe to look for another one.
I try to stand up to run out of the room, but Rachel whips me again.
'Aaargh!' I yell.
'Stay still!' she cackles.
Woosh! Slap!
Fuck! Cynthia has found a belt too.
Woosh! Slap! Woosh! Slap!
I try to cover myself with my hands, but they are relentless.
'Jeez, look how red he is… He's bleeding too now!' Yvonne says with stupid excitation.
'Come on, give me a hand!' Cynthia tells Yvonne, as she hands her the belt.
I watch Cynthia lean her back against the wall and pull up her skirt. While the other two beat me, she parts her thigs and begins to rub her pussy through the knickers.
Rachel takes a breath from what she's doing.
'More?' she asks Cynthia.
In a choked voice, Cynthia tells her:
'Almost there…'
Rachel smiles at me and hits me again.
Woosh! Slap!
'Fuck!' I cry.
'Mmmh!' hums Cynthia with some finality.
She pulls down her skirt and sniffles.
'I'm good,' she says.
Yvonne giggles:
'You're so fucked!'
Rachel drops the belt and walks to the door.
'I'm out of this shithole,' she says.
I'm exhausted, but I can't lie on the bed: my hole body burns. My face feels huge. It stings, and I can barely move it. I slowly climb out of the bed and stare at it: the sheets are smeared in blood and sweat. I look down, and I exhale, dejected, noticing I have a boner.
*
I pick up Chloe. I have to.
Parents waiting for little Alexander and darling Bianca stare at me.
I have done my best to fix my face. Band aids. The classic rolled-up Kleenex into the nostrils. I bet that's not enough to make anyone believe I haven't been bashed to mince earlier this morning.
The clothes sting as I move. The skin underneath looks burnt. Raw flesh is showing.
I don't think of anything: I am barely conscious of the date with Alice, of my now-defunct hope to get together, or of our recent fight; I have no memory of my melancholic days at work, how I was fired, and how I eventually found another job; I can't even put the humiliation I've just suffered into focus. I just move one foot in front of the other through the school gates in order to pick up my daughter. That's all I can think of.
'What the… What happened to you?'
Alice. Always altruistic Alice. She probably can't stand to see me right now, but she has to make sure I'm ok.
'Well,' I say through my ballooned lips, 'it's part of what I was trying to tell you this morning.'
She runs a hand on her forehead.
'Does it hurt?'
She looks confused, horrified, worried, sad, and a million other things.
'Eh…' I say casually.
Chloe runs up to me.
'Daddy!' she screams when she focuses on the mess that is my face.
'I know, I know…' I pick her up in my arms (which makes me wince); then, I turn to Alice. 'Look: can I explain? I need to tell you, and you deserve to hear it. Then, you can decide.'
Alice is joined by her kid too. She doesn't know what to say.
'I suppose… But, you know our situation, when?'
Yes, I have Chloe tonight, and she hasn't organised a babysitter.
'Chloe,' I ask, trying to smile to my daughter, 'how would you like to have a playdate tonight? We can get pizza.' I look at Alice and say: 'Does that work?'
Her kid looks up at me with a worried look.
Alice is unsure:
'Erm… Yes. My place ok?'
I nod.
'Is that ok?' I ask Chloe.
She still can't process the gory mask on my face.
'Don't worry. I just hit my face. But it's ok.'
'Where did you hit your face?' Chloe asks.
'A big tree!'
We grab pizza and walk to Alice's house. The kids devour their slices and run to the bedroom to play with some toys.
I am left alone with Alice.
She gets busy. She cleans up the table. She washes dishes. She doesn't want to talk to me. Not yet.
'Alice…' I say.
She sighs. She wipes her hands on a tea towel and sits at the table. I sit next to her.
'Look…' I begin.
She sighs again.
'I trusted you. I haven't trusted anyone before,' she says.
'I know, but… Let me tell you everything, ok?'
She nods.
I begin with my divorce from Sarah. The shared custody. How lost I felt. I then tell her of how Cynthia showed up at my door.
'What did you do?' she asks.
'We… slept together…' I say.
She looks at me like she's no fool.
'What did you do?'
I look at my hands:
'She likes to be spanked. She wants me to be rough.'
'Go on,' Alice tells me.
So, I tell her about Yvonne.
'She… She asked me to sodomise her in her kitchen, while her husband and her kids were playing in the garden. She wanted me to listen as she swore.'
Then, it's the turn of Rachel.
'She asked me to lick her, and then I plucked all the hair off her armpits and her… you know… her front.'
What am I missing here?
'Then, I guess the rumour started to spread, because I got called in from Chloe's teacher, Miss Pulver. She also asked me to sleep with her, but we got caught by one of the secretaries, who punished us by whipping us with a ruler.'
Alice has been staring at me, focusing on every word, taking it all in. Then, when I mention the punishment, she hides a little smile.
'I knew the situation was getting out of control, that people had begun to use me, so I asked for advice to my therapist. She said it was all very interesting; so, she made me strip naked in her office and she pissed all over me.'
At this point, Alice cracks up"
'Oh… you poor idiot!'
'I know,' I say, smiling back at her.
Then, she serious again.
'Did you fuck anyone since we've seen each other.'
I look down at my hands again.
'Fuck!' she whispers.
Her tone is suddenly one of intense grief. She stands up and leaves the table.
'I can explain,' I say, joining her.
She is facing the wall, and she's trying hard not to break down.
'She blackmailed me.'
'How?' Alice asks, now furious.
'She said she was going to tell you, and I…'
'So, you fucked her not to hurt me? Are you… Are you serious?'
Yes, it sounds pretty idiotic.
'I am really trying, Alice. But, I promise, it's all over.'
I put my hands on her shoulders. She allows me to.
'I promise,' I whisper, getting close.
She turns towards me.
'And this?' she says pointing at my face.
'The three moms from the school visited me after they had spoken to you. I…'
'What did you do?'
'I got angry, but they got kind of angrier. They really kicked my ass.'
She looks at me and shakes her head.
'If your therapist wasn't crazier than you, I would tell you to go see someone because you're really something.'
I smile.
'I get that a lot.'
She's thinking.
We're standing in the kitchen, facing each other. The lights are off, except for the two downlights above us. There's a moment between us, but she breaks it:
'Let me check on the kids.'
The kids have fallen asleep, and I help Alice make a little makeshift bed for Chloe with some blankets and some pillows.
'Come,' she says.
We go to her bedroom, and she closes the door. She comes up to me and gives me a tender kiss on my lips.
'Does it hurt?' she asks.
'It's ok if you're gentle.'
She kisses me again.
'Promise me you'll never hurt me again.'
'Of course.'
'Say it,' she insists.
'I promise I will never hurt you again.'
She kisses me again. She unbuttons my shirt.
'Oh, man,' she says. 'It's everywhere… What did they use?'
'Belts,' I say.
'What's wrong with them?'
I want to tell her that Cynthia was also whacking off as the other two were whipping me, but I thought better not to go into further details.
We're now standing facing each other, our toes almost touching. The lights are off except for a light next to the bed.
I take off my pants, and I help her with her clothes.
I run my hand on her small breasts, then on her hips. I lower her undies and glance quickly at the little auburn bush.
I am already hard, but I hesitate.
'I don't think I can lie down…'
She's puzzled:
'So… How can we…?'
I shrug my shoulders and say:
'Let me try something.'
I come closer and I rest my hand on her vulva, stroking it gently.
Alice puts one hand on my shoulder.
'Ouch!' I yelp.
'Sorry…'
I move closer and begin to rub her. My fingers enter the ridge between the labia; they search for the opening, the muscular fence before the asshole; then, they come back towards the clit. I can feel she's getting wet already. I listen to her breathing. I can smell the watery stench of my wounds.
I push her against the wall.
She lifts herself on her tippytoes and tilts her hips to present her pussy to me.
We're both standing.
I cannot hold her or support her. As she's shorter than me, I need to bend my knees slightly, so that I can get my dick at the right height to penetrate her.
'Mmmh!' she moans as my dick pushes in.
'Are you ok?' I ask.
'It's big…' she whispers.
'Sorry.'
She laughs, then says:
'More.'
I push in another inch.
'God, you're stretching me.'
I don't move. I feel the tip of her fingers, exploring my balls, then the part of the shaft that's still outside. I think she wants to know how much more she has to take in.
Alice begins to move up and down on her toes in small, gentle movements. She's trying to ease herself into it. She's hoping to get used to the size and that, as her lubrication increases, she can fit more in.
Then, she pushes down and takes another inch.
'Ow!' she moans.
I begin to move to, in and out, in and out.
'Slowly,' she begs.
'Ok.'
I look into her face.
Her lips are parted, and she's breathing in small gulps. Her nostrils are flared. There are beads of sweat on her forehead. But her eyes are open: they stare into mine, filled with an unanswered question she can't articulate.
She nods, inviting me to go in a bit more.
'Ready?'
She hesitates again:
'Yes.'
I push it all in. I can feel her flesh around the base of my dick tense and resist.
'Ah!' she cries out in a muted voice.
I am now moving up and down. Her pussy is tight, but I can feel it's relaxing with each push.
'Don't stop,' she says.
My thrusts are now bigger, stronger. I go in and out. I push deeper.
Every time my dick goes all the way in, Alice moans in my ear.
'I can't believe it's all inside me.'
'I want you so bad,' I say.
'I want you too,' she answers.
I hold her ass, so that I can push her up and down. She lets me take over and herself be guided.
My body burns as I move, but I don't care.
'I think I'm gonna come…' she cries. 'You're making me come… Oh God, you're making me come… Keep pushing. Go, go… Deeper… Like this. Yeah, don't stop. Oh, please… Aaaah!'
She looks at me, flushed, with a look of sadness that turns into joy.
I take my dick out of her. I can feel its surface wet with Alice's juices. I kiss Alice while I masturbate.
'Let me,' she tells me.
She kneels before me.
'I'm almost there,' I tell her while I stroke my dick.
She opens her mouth with a smile.
Then, I come inside it with two big sprays.
'Mmh! Mmh!'
She swallows and runs a finger around her mouth to push any leftover sperm into her mouth. Then, she laughs quietly.
Alice doesn't move. She stares at my throbbing dick and runs her hand on its surface.
'You are nice,' she says.
'You are nice too,' I reply.
That night, I have to sleep wedged in a mountain of cushions and pillows to minimise my discomfort. My skin pulls at every movement; my face is swollen, but I am next to Alice, and I am happy.
*
The next morning, Chloe and I wake up early, so that we can go home to wash and get fresh clothes.
'Did you like your playdate?' I ask.
'Yes,' she says, but I can tell she's thinking about something else.
'Will you and mum ever go back together?'
'That's right, sweetie, we said we were going to talk about it, didn't we? The think is that mum and I are no longer together.'
Chloe thinks for a moment, then says:
'But why?'
'Well, mum and I thought it was better like this. We could be happier. We were not happy before. That's the way between grown-ups sometime, you know?'
'You don't like mum anymore?'
'I do… I do… But I don't think she was very happy with me.'
'No,' she corrects me, 'she said it's up to you?'
'Me?' I laugh.
I don't want to tell Chloe that it's all Sarah's fault. I stick to the line that it was a mutual decision.
'She said you might go back together,' Chloe says.
'Mum… Said what?'
'That you're going back together.'
'When? Is it a long time ago?' I ask, confused.
'No. When you picked me up.'
My phone has been off since last night. While Chloe is in the shower, I turn it on to write a message to Sarah. I try to draft it in my mind, as I wait for the screen to turn on: it says 'WTF, WTF, WTF…'
Before I can start typing, I hear the familiar 'ding!'
I've got a message.
It's Sarah's.
This is not working, is it? We need to talk.
Fuck.