Chapter Twenty-Five

Alex

I felt both deflated and elated as I hurried into the restaurant. I had got his number, but he had hesitated, hadn’t he? He hadn’t wanted to give it to me and he hadn’t said he’d see me again. He didn’t want to get involved. We’d just had our goodbye fuck and no way did he want to hear from me again. I would look desperate and stupid if I contacted him. In the foyer, I hesitated with my thumb over his name, intending to delete him from my life. With a scowl, I shoved my phone into my pocket and hurried into the staff room.

Max was polishing glasses behind the bar when I appeared, straightening my bow tie. He did a double take when he saw me. “What the fuck happened to you?”

I’d forgotten about the bruise. It went into the razor cut hair at my temple, my scalp blue and green. Lucas had kissed and touched me there so tenderly this morning. “An altercation,” I said.

“Right,” he said. “Start setting up, then we’re sitting down for a brew and you’re going to tell me what you’ve been up to since Christmas Eve. And if he put that bruise on you, he’s a dead man.”

I shook my head as I walked away.

We were both drinking filter coffee with a generous splash of cream and Max had rustled up a couple of cheese sandwiches with salad. “Start talking,” he said. His eyes were dark beneath as though he’d not had much sleep over Christmas.

“We went out to a bar from here on Christmas Eve,” I said. “Then we went back to his and spent the night. On Christmas Day we went to my parents.”

He gaped at me. “What? Back up. You had a shag then you invited him to Devon?”

I smiled. “Yeah.”

“He must have been really good.”

I blushed and drank some coffee.

“Then what? You stayed over?”

“Yeah.”

“Your mum invited him to stay over?”

“Yeah.”

“Fucking hell! He must be quite some charmer. What about your dad?”

I shrugged. “ He wasn’t particularly charming. But he mellowed once he’d beat Lucas at chess.”

Max eyed me. “Then?”

“We came home yesterday.”

“And where does the bruise fit in? He felt like beating you up or you injured yourself while swinging from his chandelier?”

I reddened again. “We ran into a spot of trouble at the services on the way home.”

Max frowned. “What sort of trouble?”

“Some chavs in the toilets. Felt like some Christmas queer-bashing.”

Max paled. He reached for my hand. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, touched by his concern.

“Did you call the police?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“They’re having a look at CCTV.”

“And Lucas?”

“Some cuts and bruises. He’s okay. He was my hero. He took them all on.” I smiled.

Max looked satisfied. “Good. And now what?”

I felt the dark cloud descend back over me. I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve got his number but… he said it couldn’t work between us.”

“And what do you think?”

“That I want him,” I said in a small voice.

Max sighed. He squeezed my hand.

The lunch service went quickly. We weren’t too busy but the work was steady. I checked my phone and then realised I had taken his number but he hadn’t taken mine. He couldn’t contact me. The onus was on me. But he knew where I worked and where I lived. He could get in touch anytime he wanted to. I sighed, finger hovering over a blank message to him. What did I say? I only saw you two hours ago but I’m texting because I’m a lovesick idiot? When I’d composed half a dozen texts and deleted them all, I shoved my phone on one of the shelves behind the bar so I couldn’t keep messing with it.

At the end of lunch when we closed, I was like a lost soul. I didn’t want to go home to my cold flat that carried the shadow of him. Max rushed off home to his family and I sat in the darkened restaurant alone with a plate of mushroom stroganoff and a glass of water. I poked around half-heartedly until I realised how delicious it was, just as Lucas had said on Christmas Eve. I devoured it, then grabbed my phone again.

Hi, we weren’t too busy. Heading home for a rest.

Delete.

How is the office? Getting lots done?

Delete.

I really enjoyed Christmas this year.

Delete.

This morning was so good. I love your cock in my mouth. And in my bum, obviously.

Delete.

I miss you.

Fucking delete.

I sighed and took my plates back to the kitchen. I’d planned to sit here rather than going home but as I had a couple of hours to kill, what was I going to do other than mindless scrolling and writing texts I would only delete. It would be a torturous time. Better to go home and get stuff done. Although I suspected I would get nothing done.

And I was right. I washed some more shirts, tidied up in the kitchen, then lay down on my bed for a nap. When I arrived back at seven and checked the bookings, my heart sank. He was here. My groper and sex pest. Booked in for seven-thirty with three of his cronies.

Fuck it.

“Have you called him?” Max called as he came out of the kitchen.

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He’s at work.”

“I’m sure he won’t be at work now.”

I didn’t say anything.

Bill wore a wedding ring but I had never seen Mrs Bill. I presumed there was a Mrs Bill as he acted so straight with his friends despite groping my arse whenever he could. Max showed the quartet to their table and I loitered at the bar, avoiding them like the plague. Hopefully Lucas had scared him off any repeat of his licentious behaviour.

They had received their starters when Max cornered me at the bar. “What was going on with Bill on Christmas Eve?”

I reddened. “Nothing.”

“Come on, I’ve got eyes. Lucas was pissed off about something involving him.”

I sighed and threw a bottle of tonic into the glass recycling before adding a slice of lemon to the gin. “He says things to me. Asks me out. Gropes me.”

Max stared at me. “He gropes you?”

“Yeah.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know.” I was blushing, looking anywhere but Max.

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

“It’s nothing.”

“I’ll speak to him,” Max said.

I grabbed his arm as he walked away. “Don’t. Please. Lucas warned him off. It’s done.”

Max hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ll be watching him.”

I was sure I had nothing else to worry about, even as I glanced across the room and saw Bill staring at me with a malevolent gleam in his eye.

The restaurant was hectic till around nine, then it seemed to die a death. Probably people with children who’d had an exhausting Christmas. As last service was at 9.45 though, there was always time for someone to show up. Bill’s table was the last, and they were lingering over coffee, ordering night caps and more wine and generally being rowdy. The chefs scrubbed the kitchen like their lives depended on it and vanished, leaving Max working the bar and me setting tables for the morning. It had been just us all day, Anna on holiday and Liam with his family in Scotland.

I went into the kitchen carrying a tray to stack with supplies for the coffee station. The main lights were off, the damp floor illuminated by the eerie blue strobe of the electric flycatcher on the wall. I put my tray down when I noticed the broken down cardboard boxes leaning against the workbench. I’d put them there earlier to go out to the recycling. I grabbed them and headed down the long, dark corridor past the chefs’ changing room to the door. It was freezing down here, a stink of BO and cheesy socks wafting through the air. I shivered in my thin shirt as I unbolted the door and hefted the boxes out behind me. A wide alleyway contained our bins—paper, glass, plastic and metal recycling, food waste and general waste. The paper recycling was a massive blue thing on four wheels like an American dumpster. I always struggled to get the lid up without it crashing back down immediately. The cold chilled me to the bone as I propped the boxes against the wall and used two hands to heave the lid up.

Shit, straight back down. I tried again, put my back into it. It opened, shook like the legs of a new-born colt and slammed back down. “For fuck’s sake,” I snarled at it.

As I grabbed it again, a voice behind me said, “You’re not strong enough. Let me help you.”

I froze. Please, no . I turned around slowly. Bill swayed towards me from the kitchen. He’d closed the door behind him and approached with unsteady steps, a big drunk grin plastered on his ugly face.

“You can’t come out here,” I said. “We’re not insured if you injure yourself. Go back inside, please, sir.”

He snorted. “Sir?” His gut wobbled as he laughed. “Where’s your boyfriend tonight?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, just a customer who didn’t like what you were doing.”

“I saw you get into a cab with him.”

I stared at him. I thought Bill had left before Lucas and I on Christmas Eve. He’d been watching? Was he…stalking me?

Bill stepped closer. “Did you fuck him?”

I swallowed. I saw true menace in his eyes and I was afraid. “It’s none of your business what I do when I’m not here. Go back inside.”

He shook his head. “Did you fuck him?”

“I said I’m not going to discuss…” He moved fast for a big man, grabbing me by the hair and slamming my head against the bin. My legs buckled and I fell to the ground.

“Did you fuck him?” he cried, spit spraying my face.

“Yes! Yes, okay, I fucked him!” I yelled. “Jesus Christ.” I rubbed my head, shaking with something more than cold now. There were two ways out. Back through the kitchen or through the bolted gate to the road beyond, both ways currently blocked by Bill. The street outside was quiet but I could probably attract attention by making a noise.

“Was he good?”

I staggered to my feet with my hand braced against the bin. “Yes,” I said. “I’m not interested, Bill. Let me go.”

He moved in close then, reaching into his pocket. I opened my mouth to scream and heard a click. “One more noise,” he said. “If you dare.” I saw the moonlight gleaming on steel.

I gasped. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He showed me the blade. “I brought this with me tonight because I was upset with how you and your boyfriend treated me on Christmas Eve.”

He’d brought it with him to do what? Fucking coward. I refrained from calling him that seeing as he was the one who held the knife.

He lifted the weapon to my throat. “Tell me what he did to you,” he said in a manic whisper, eyes glinting in the dark.

I held my breath, struggling to speak. “He fucked me.”

“Where?”

“In the arse.”

He slapped my head, making me see stars. “I mean where did he fuck you?”

“At his house. In his bed.”

“You’re a dirty little bottom boy, aren’t you? Looking for someone to master you.”

I shook my head.

“Liar.” He drove a fist into my stomach and I doubled over with a groan. “What else did he do to you?”

I panted, winded and gasping. “He…sucked my cock, gave me a rim job.”

“Did you suck him off?”

“Yes.” I straightened up as best I could.

“Did you swallow?”

“Yes.” I thought of Christmas Day at my parents, his dick in my mouth as he rimmed me.

“I saw him drop you off today. Have you been fucking him for the whole of Christmas?”

I closed my eyes. “Yes,” I whispered.

Bill growled. “That must be one sore arse you have.” He pressed the blade harder into my neck. “Unfasten me. Take my dick out.”

“Please,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t.”

“Final warning,” he said and nicked my throat to make his point. I gasped as I felt the warmth of blood trickle down my neck. Hurriedly, I reached for his belt, unbuckling it, feeling the strain of his dick behind the material as I unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers. He helped me, breathing hard with excitement, shoving his briefs down to free his erection, then forcing my hand around it and gasping like all his dreams had come true when I touched him. “Fuck,” he said. “On your knees.”

He shoved me down, knife still at my throat, holding his cock and jabbing it towards my mouth. I closed my mouth and tried to will myself away. Tried to remember that last time I did this, I’d wanted it so much, wanted Lucas in my mouth, coming down my throat. Now I had this horrible parody of that time together, taken by force in an alleyway.