The Nature of Cruelty

  Then, very quietly, I whisper, “For you only.”

  His smile is blinding. “For me only,” he agrees, slipping his hand possessively over my stomach and taking another picture. I catch sight of it, and the contrast between his tanned arm and my pale stomach is beautiful. His hand trails farther, pushing up my skirt and moving beneath my underwear. I moan when he caresses me between my legs.

  “You’re soaking,” he breathes as his fingers stroke me and then try to find their way inside. I feel a slight burn as he enters a place never before touched. “So tight,” he goes on, mouthing my neck and then flicking his tongue over my earlobe.

  I shiver in his arms, instinctively rubbing off his hardness. He moves so he’s on top of me, and my legs fall open. His lips meet mine in a frenzy of nips and sucks as he grinds his erection between my legs. I can feel my cheeks getting warmer as the intensity of the sensation builds. His hands are holding mine above my head now, the muscles in his arms straining. His hard penis rubs me in just the right spot, and I can feel an orgasm building.

  He rocks in and out. For a moment I forget about being a virgin and just feel like I’ll die if I can’t have him inside me. Somehow, within the space of a few days, my fears have faded away. Perhaps I’d been waiting for Robert all along.

  Our kiss deepens exponentially, his tongue dancing with mine, his lips memorising me. He breaks it so that he can ask in between choppy breaths, “Are you almost there, baby?”

  “Yes,” I whimper. “Almost.”

  “Okay, wait for me,” he says, but I don’t know what he means. His mouth is back on mine now, and there’s a fire burning where he’s pushing himself faster against my soaking-wet underwear.

  I come harder than I realised it was possible to come, just as Robert’s hold on my wrists tightens and he moans into my mouth. I stay wrapped around him, shuddering with the after waves of my orgasm. His hands move down my arms and fold around me.

  He bites softly on my ear as he chuckles, all out of breath. “I think I might have made a mess.”

  It takes me a second to get his meaning, and then I laugh. “You should go clean up, then.”

  His arms tighten around me. “Not yet. I’m happy where I am for now.”

  Soon enough his breathing relaxes, and he adjusts us to a more comfortable position. His hand makes lazy circles on my belly, paying particular attention to the needle scars.

  “You’re the most perfect thing to me, Lana. Never forget that,” he says, dead serious, like he’s making a vow.

  I’m so sated I feel like purring. “You’re the most beautiful thing to me,” I reply.

  “Not perfect?” he questions, amused.

  “No, not perfect. Perfection doesn’t exist, but beauty does. And you, Robert, are so beautiful I sometimes want to spend whole hours just staring at you.”

  “I like hearing you say stuff like that to me. It gives me hope.”

  “Hope for what?”

  “Hope that one day you’ll forgive me for my past sins.”

  I swallow and nod, wondering if I’m capable of that. Perhaps I’ve already forgiven him — I just haven’t said it out loud yet. His strokes on my stomach get slower and then stop completely. I look up to find he’s fallen asleep, his breathing deep. I snuggle further into his embrace and close my eyes, and soon I’ve fallen under, too.

  Fourteen

  An hour later I wake up, mostly because my body is complaining. A wave of weakness washes over me. I glance at the clock on Robert’s wall, which tells me it’s almost three. I’d been so wrapped up in him from the moment I got home today that I completely forgot my lunch. I try to move off the bed, but Robert’s hold on me tightens.

  “Stop fidgeting,” he complains sleepily, his hand moving to cup me between my legs.

  I feel a momentary thrill but do my best to ignore it. “Robert, I don’t feel well. I need to take my insulin,” I tell him in a soft voice so as not to wake him entirely, but the second I stop speaking, he jumps up.

  “Shit. Sorry. Go ahead,” he says, helping me from the bed.

  I hurry to my room and take my medicine. I can already hear Robert in the bathroom turning on the shower.

  A little while later he peeks his head in past my door. “I’m going to make some dinner. Any preferences?”

  “Oh, could I have chicken and a baked potato?”

  “Of course you may,” he says with a grin, giving me a sweeping bow before leaving the room. When I follow him downstairs a while later, I hear him pacing in the back garden while talking on the phone. His voice is tight with annoyance, but I can’t tell who he’s talking to. Presuming it’s something to do with work, I throw together some salad to go with the baked potatoes and chicken.

  Sasha gets home just then, throwing her car keys down on the counter with a sigh and pulling up a stool.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, just some crappy source wasting my time trying to sell me a story about sweet fuck-all. I swear to God, I don’t care if they tell me bloody Keith Richards has died, I’m not getting out of bed on a Sunday for that job ever again.”

  “Oh. Well, do you want some dinner? There’s plenty to go around,” I ask, knowing how food always cheers Sasha up.

  “I’d love some. I was too hung over this morning to have breakfast. All I’ve had today was a black coffee with a ton of sugar to keep me going.”

  “Hey! Who told you to take over?” Robert asks, interrupting us and coming back in from the garden. “Go and put your feet up on the couch, and I’ll bring the food into you.”

  He escorts me out of the room and settles me in the living room.

  “Oh, Rob,” Sasha calls from the kitchen. “Could we talk?” She sounds serious. I wonder if she’s going to tell him about being gay, seeing as I know now. Well, it’s not like he doesn’t know already, it’s just that she doesn’t know he knows – sort of.

  “Sure, be right there,” he calls back. When he returns to the kitchen, one of them shuts the door tight so I can’t listen in to what they’re talking about.

  Resigned to not knowing, I switch on the television and flick through the channels. Twenty minutes later they come in, with Robert carrying two plates, one for him and one for me. I look back and forth between them, but they’re acting completely normal, so I can’t tell what the conversation entailed. The only difference is that Robert’s smiling and looking at Sasha more affectionately than normal.

  Sasha sits on an armchair, and Robert settles in beside me on the sofa. A reality show is playing as we quietly eat our food.

  A few minutes into the programme, Robert nods to the television and asks, “Hey, Sash, what do you think of her?”

  He’s referring to a dark-haired girl with an ample bosom. I gape at him, a forkful of chicken halfway to my mouth. I cannot believe he’s doing this. All I can hope for is that she did actually tell him she’s a lesbian when they had their private chat just now.

  Sasha casts her narrowed eyes in his direction. “What are you on about, Rob?”

  “What do you think of her? I think she’s hot.”

  Her lips twitch. “Fuck off.”

  “No, seriously! I want to know your opinion. She’s good-looking, but she’s wearing a bit too much pink for my tastes. Do you like women who wear pink, Sasha?”

  “I know what you’re doing, you bastard. But if you must know, I’m not too pushed on what colours they wear.”

  “Ah, I get it. You’re all about what’s underneath.” He gives her a wink.

  She shakes her head and then laughs. “Yeah, maybe.”

  I cough before addressing Sasha. “Did you, um, did you tell him?”

  She smiles now. “Yeah. Not that he didn’t know already, of course. Nosy little bugger.” She picks up a salad leaf and flings it at Robert. It bounces off his shoulder and then sails to the floor.

  “Hey, no food fights. I’ve already taken two showers today,” says Robert with humour.

  Sasha raises an eyebro
w. “Uh, do I want to know?”

  “No,” I answer her vehemently. “No, you do not.”

  Robert pinches me in the hip suggestively, and I give him a warning look. The last thing Sasha needs to hear about is our lusty afternoon spent in his bed.

  “So, what about bodies, Sasha? Are you a boobs lady, or do you prefer a nice bottom?”

  Oh, God, I can’t believe he’s still carrying on with this topic.

  Sasha swallows some food, her expression turning steely and amused. She’s not going to let him embarrass her. “Preferably I’d like both to be nice. Why are you asking me all this?”

  “Because I’m excited to be able to talk about girls with you! I’ve always wanted a brother, and now that I know you’re into women, you’re basically my brother without a cock.”

  “Gee, thanks,” says Sasha, a sneaky gleam coming into her eye. “But anyway, I thought there was only one girl for you now.” She nods in my direction, and I pretend I’m absorbed in watching the television.

  Robert’s hand slides across the sofa and possessively grips my thigh. “Yeah, that’s true. I’m a reformed character.” I squirm, wanting his touch but at the same time being shy to have him doing this in front of his sister.

  Sasha points her fork at him. “You better be. If you give Lana even one bad day, you’ll have me to answer to, you hear?”

  He leans over to plant a quick kiss on the curve of my jaw. “I won’t even give her a bad minute,” he says, his low voice hitting me right between my thighs. I can feel myself becoming attuned to him more and more.

  Sasha gives him a considering look before turning her attention back to the television. “By the way,” she says, “Kara’s sent me several texts requesting I get you to call her, each one more desperate than the last.” Her expression shows her impatience for such melodrama.

  Robert’s eyes momentarily light up with glee. “I know. That was her on the phone earlier.” He seems pleased with himself in some way, but I can’t exactly put my finger on what it is.

  “Oh. What did she want?”

  “She’s just still pissing on about me taking the DVD player from the penthouse,” he explains casually, pursing his lips together to keep from smiling.

  Sasha’s eyebrows draw close as she asks disbelievingly, “A DVD player? She’s sending desperate texts for you to call her over a DVD player?”

  He grins and eats a bite of chicken. “Yep.”

  “Why don’t I believe that?”

  “Because you’re a cynical, wizened old lesbian, why else?” Robert replies jokingly.

  “Hey! I may be two of those things, but I’m certainly not wizened or old,” Sasha exclaims, laughing.

  “I don’t know.” Robert bites on his lip. “Those crow’s feet have seen better days.”

  What follows is about ten minutes of them both throwing funny insults back and forth at one another. I laugh at the right moments, but my brain is still fixating on the fact that the phone call Robert had been having earlier was with Kara. Furthermore, I have to side with Sasha when I say I don’t believe she’s still looking for him to give the DVD player back. There’s more to this than meets the eye.

  Robert may have changed his ways with me, but he hasn’t changed completely. He still likes to mess with people’s heads, and it seems he’s done something that’s messing with Kara’s.

  We spend the rest of the evening watching a marathon on one of the movie channels showing all of the Indiana Jones films. Later on, when I’m alone in my en-suite getting ready for bed, Robert suddenly appears, slipping silently into the small room and closing the door.

  I continue brushing my teeth as I stand by the sink. He places both hands on either side of my body and stares at me in the mirror.

  I bend to rinse out my mouth, my bottom brushing off him in the process. He makes a funny purring sound in response. I’m almost charmed by the playful look in his eyes, but then I remember there’s something I need to say to him.

  I wipe my mouth on a towel and turn to face him. “What’s going on with Kara?”

  His lips curl in an almost smile. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You’re up to something, I can tell. Have you been putting more unflattering pictures of her up on Facebook or something?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then what?”

  “It’s nothing. I just took something, inadvertently, might I add, that she wants me to give back.”

  I shoot him a confused look. “The DVD player?”

  “In a way, yes.”

  “Robert, stop being evasive and just answer me.”

  He sighs and runs the material of my pyjama top between his fingers. “Okay, so maybe there was a DVD inside the DVD player that I now have in my possession.”

  “Like a film?” I raise a quizzical eyebrow.

  “Yeah, like a film. A sex tape of Kara and Gary, to be more precise.”

  I gasp and clasp my hand to my mouth. “Oh, my God, are you being serious?”

  “Very.”

  “Why don’t you give it back?”

  His moves his shoulders in a nonchalant gesture. “Sometimes it’s good to keep a little collateral. Kara knows a lot of stuff about me, Lana. By keeping the tape, I ensure that she never airs my dirty laundry in public.”

  I become wary now. “What kind of stuff?”

  He shrugs. “I had a little drug habit when I was twenty. It’s all over now, and it didn’t last very long, but Kara was with me back then and she witnessed me do a lot of stupid things. If it ever got out, it could ruin my career.”

  Robert used to do drugs? That’s something even Sasha doesn’t know about. I’m not too surprised, though, because he’s always had a misadventurous side.

  “But if the tape ever got into the wrong hands, it could ruin Kara’s career,” I counter.

  “So now we’re even. She keeps her mouth shut, and I keep the tape locked away safe.”

  “It doesn’t sound like she’s willing to make that deal, Rob.”

  “She’ll come around. She doesn’t have another choice.”

  I move away from him and walk into the bedroom, trying to get all this straight in my head. I pick up my brush and run it through my hair a few times. “Does Kara have any evidence of the things she’s seen you do when you were on drugs?” I ask.

  “No. But rumours can be just as damaging as hard evidence. People like to believe salacious gossip.”

  “Yeah, but that’s just it, Rob. Kara can spread rumours, but she can never prove the things you’ve done, whereas you’ve got a DVD to show to people. For all she knows, you could have uploaded it onto the Internet already.”

  Robert folds his arms, looking annoyed now. “She knows I’ll keep my word if she keeps hers.”

  “Are you sure of that?”

  “One-hundred-percent sure.”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “Okay, then. I think this is going to come back to haunt you, but it looks like there’s no way of changing your mind.”

  For a moment his eyes grow hard, and I don’t like the look in them. “You don’t believe I’ll keep my word, do you?” he asks.

  “I’m not a fortune-teller. I don’t know what you’ll do in the future.”

  He walks over to the window and stands there for a good five minutes, staring out onto the street in silence. Finally the tension in his shoulders falls away, and he pulls the curtains closed.

  “I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he says softly.

  “No need to apologise. You’re stressed,” I say, pulling back the duvet and climbing into bed.

  “Can I sleep in here tonight?” he asks, looking lost.

  “Yes,” I breathe. “I want you to.” In my mind I’m imagining that he might touch me again like he did earlier today.

  He begins to strip off until he’s in nothing but his boxer shorts. Then he climbs into the bed beside me. I click off the lamp and turn onto my side. Robert immediately wraps his arms around me and pulls me
into him, lining the back of my body up flush with the front of his.

  I lie there in anticipation, but soon it becomes clear that sleeping with me is all he intends for tonight. His breathing slows against the back of my neck, and just as I think he might have fallen under, he whispers tiredly into my ear, “I have the best sleeps with you.”

  I turn a little to briefly kiss the tip of his nose and see that he’s already gone.

  The next morning Robert and Sasha leave for work early as usual. I get dressed along with them, even though I have another few hours before my shift. Robert kisses me long and deep on the doorstep as I say goodbye, strangely mournful that I’m not going to see him all day.

  “See you later,” he says, pausing mischievously before finishing, “girlfriend.”

  My mouth opens in surprise. “Girlfriend?” I ask as he walks backward away from the house, still facing me.

  “Yep.”

  I laugh. “Okay, then, boyfriend. See you later.”

  His happy laugh carries down the drive as he disappears out onto the street. This humour strikes a distinct contrast with his mood later on. I’m at work, just tidying up after the lunchtime rush, when my eyes are drawn to the window. Robert is walking across the road toward the restaurant, looking like an avenging angel all in black. His mouth is tight, and his posture seems tense. This fact is further reinforced when he stomps past the outdoor tables and chairs and kicks one of the chairs over in a fit of rage.

  Alistair’s standing by the bar, counting money in the till. He sees Robert kick the chair over and then march inside the restaurant.

  “Hey, what did that chair ever do to you, mate?” he calls jokingly, while also appearing wary of Robert’s temper.

  Robert doesn’t look at him at all; instead, he pulls off his sunglasses and his eyes seek me out. All of a sudden, I feel like prey.

  “I need to use your office for a bit,” he says to Alistair, still moving towards me. “Oh, yeah, and Lana’s having her break.”

  “Okay. Take your time,” Alistair replies, raising an eyebrow and casting the other waitress Danni a curious glance. She shrugs and continues wiping down tables. Before I know it, Robert’s hand is clamping onto my wrist and he’s pulling me to the back of the building to Alistair’s office. He slams shut the door and drags me to the front of the desk, lifting me up to sit on top of it.