Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Julian

I was usedto keeping up a public façade when my shame bells were tolling inside me. I’d spent many, many Sunday afternoons placing down dinner plates in front of Grace’s friends alongside hers, and making conversation with them as though it was normal. How are you this week? How was college? The questions meant nothing. The look in their eyes said it all. They were thinking of how I’d been roping them, bound and used like sluts, posing for me like they were porn stars, but nobody else knew it.

Crenham Drive was no different. They had no sense of the shame bells under my public façade, either. My confidence was robust as I walked along with Rosie’s hand in mine, riding on the innocent rush of nervous pride she was feeling alongside me. The beautiful girl was still enamoured enough she wanted the world to know about me and her together. Giving her that pleasure would be an honour. My guts were strong enough to take the etheric punches.

Trisha and Martha looked like they wanted to skin me alive. I could only imagine Beverly’s hate would dwarf theirs thousandfold. I could virtually hear the whispers in our wake as we walked. Raised eyebrows and snide glances. It was a relief to know I didn’t actually care all that much about any of them. They could all burn in hell along with me for their condemnation of Rosie.

We were out of Crenham Drive before I knew it. Rosie’s hand tightened as she looked up at me.

“Where do you want to go now?”

I glanced behind us. “We could do another parade of the block for extra measure, or keep on walking. Which would you prefer? Fillet steak at home, or in town?”

We stopped at a pedestrian crossing, and I awaited her decision. She stepped out when the light turned green, and we were set. Town it was.

“I’m really not dressed for this,” she said. “I should have done my hair and stuff.”

No, she shouldn’t. I loved the bobbing cuteness of her hair in a pony, and the simplicity of her college outfit and sneakers. She flashed me a grin when we were on the other side.

“Can we get something like a burger this once, please? I can get dressed up another time for fillet steak, so I look more suited to it.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” I said, but my words would be redundant. She wouldn’t believe me. “If you want a burger, we’ll have a burger. That wasn’t quite where I’d have expected to take you on our first ever date, so we’ll have to compensate for it on the next one.”

“The next one? You’re ok with this, then? Taking me out?”

“Being public?” I happily ignored my shame bells for once in my life. “Yes. Absolutely.”

It felt as though she was dancing on the spot as we stepped into the park. Families were around, kids on swings, mums chatting and laughing. We got glances, and some elbow nudges between friends, but it was nothing as evil as I’d have expected. This wasn’t Oxford, after all. People had no illusions of me being a respectable head of the household, professionally lecturing college pupils in a high-end career. Here I was just a freak in an apartment block. Worth nothing but rumours.

Except for Rosie.

If I was worthy of Rosie, I must be blessed.

She knew the burger bar she wanted. I didn’t protest as she pointed it out once we reached the city, and it was a chain store slum of an eatery.

“They do great milkshakes. Strawberry, chocolate, vanilla.”

Her tone tickled me.

“Do I look like a vanilla man to you?”

“No.” She had a rush of childish humour. “But maybe you do to a load of other people.”

“I look stoic, you mean?”

“Suited, booted, posh.”

“Often the least vanilla of all.”

She grinned. “True. That’s what a load of books sing loudest about, isn’t it? Dirty, hot posh guys. They make addictive reads for a reason.”

I found I was laughing, easily. “Maybe I should be in one of them? Julian Lockley, the dirty, filthy posh guy. Can you imagine the movie version? I wonder who they’d cast for it.”

The doors were automatic. I felt her eyes on me as we stepped up to one of the self-service order machines.

“You could write a story like that, you know,” she said. “Seriously.”

I scoffed in good humour. “An autobiography of my seedy kinks? I can’t see it topping the bestseller lists. I hardly topped the thriller charts. They didn’t even see the light of day.”

I was waiting for her to select a burger choice onscreen, but she didn’t. Her eyes were still on me.

“You really could do it, you know,” she said. “I mean, your writing is amazing, and you know what you’re talking about, and you’re a knight in shining armour, and all of the things that could make a great story.”

“Rosie,” I laughed. “I’m not an author. It was a distant dream.”

“No, but you wanted to be. You could be.”

“Hardly.” I gestured to the screen again. “Come on, recommend me the most incredible burger on the menu. Make your choice and I’ll have the same.”

I could sense her brain whirring on more than food as she clicked through the options and added two to the virtual order, with fries, and sides, and two large vanilla milkshakes, most likely to take the piss. I swiped my card in an instant, not even giving her the chance to fumble in her bag.

She was quiet as we took our seats at a booth with the table number placard showing boldly between us. I looked at her freshly in these surroundings, with youngsters bustling and people grabbing takeouts after work.

“Why don’t you do it?” she kept pushing. “You could at least try, right? And I love those books. I could read it.”

“You could be my advisor.” I laughed, but she didn’t.

“Yeah, why not? I’ve read enough of them.”

I looked across the table at her as though we were in some kind of surreal dimension. Not only was I out in public with a girl who should be avoiding me at all costs, showing her off on my arm to anyone who’d be watching, but she was now suggesting I turned my seediness into print form.

But my heart wasn’t scoffing along with my brain.

I hadn’t felt creative urges in years. The manuscripts she’d had me dig out of my old laptop files had consumed me totally and utterly in the flow of words when I’d been writing them, but that was before my cock took hold of my mind. But what if the two energies could share it…

No. It was absurd. Absurd.

“Why won’t you do it?” she asked, reading me. “You could write it for fun, even if nobody ever sees it. I’d like to see it.”

“You’d like to read my filth as well as experience it?”

She nodded, her face like a dirty little angel.

“Maybe you could do me a scene a day? A reward for my college attendance.”

“Like a gold star? Good day at college, sweetheart, well done you. Here. Have an obscene chapter I wrote about you.”

“Yeah. That would be amazing.”

She was serious. She was genuinely serious.

“I love reading your stuff,” she said. “And I love romance. I love it all. What a hybrid.”

“I’ll quite willingly write filth for you, if you’d like that,” I told her, my heat taking hold. “I’ll write about all the seedy disgusting games I’d like to play with you, handing them over as an instruction manual when you walk in through the door. How about that? Here’s the chapter for the day, sweetheart. Spread your legs so I can stretch your tight little cunt wide and take photos of you gagged like a whore, here’s the screen play.”

My voice was low, or so I thought, but typically that was at the point the server arrived with our burgers on a tray, approaching from behind me. He nearly toppled the milkshakes onto the table, and Rosie was in hysterics, giggling her sweet little head off as he stumbled out some apologies and rushed away.

“Shit,” I said, but she was waving her hands, still finding it hilarious.

Her laugh was so beautiful it was intoxicating. It gave me more escapism than a whisky bottle. For once, I let pure humour embrace me, grateful that such a girl was lightening up the self-hate in my soul.

“Go on, then,” I said, as she sucked on her milkshake straw. “I’ll write you a scene to test it out, how about that?”

She nodded, still sucking. She swallowed with a smile.

“Thank you.”

Another thank you I didn’t need credit for.

The burger was crap, but I didn’t tell her that. I munched on fries, watching her munch on hers, and it occurred to me then that we could be anywhere. In the apartment, in a burger bar, in a park with sneers, or on a tropical beach. The location didn’t matter. My infatuation – love – for her would be enough to enjoy a walk across hot coals.

“I met a girl today at college,” she told me. “Lola. She came up to me in the library, and told me she’s been getting the same gossip and crap as me for over a year. She’s with a guy now who’s forty, and they live together. He was her neighbour from when they were young, everyone thought it was gross, like he’d been preying on her, when actually it was her after him. Just like it was with us.”

I still didn’t see it that way, but she had a point. There was no doubt that Rosie wanted me at least as equally as I wanted her. She’d been the one to charge into the apartment and suck on my thumb like a horny minx.

“Do they live in Crenham, too?”

“No. Dine’s Green.”

It was another cruddy estate with a close-knit community, as far as I’d heard. I could imagine the parallels.

“Did you like her? Lola?” I asked.

“She was great. Really cool. She’s an art student, studying digital. I think I’ll get on really well with her.” She paused. “Maybe you would, too.”

“Maybe I could meet her? And him, of course. We could go out on a double date sometime. What do you think? Me, you, Lola and her boyfriend.”

That thought was surprisingly appealing. Mutual friends. That could be something. I hadn’t considered friendship in any form since leaving Oxford.

I voiced what I thought was the obvious.

“Wouldn’t you be worried about me pursuing her, though? Another lovely college girl?”

Rosie looked at me like I was insane. “Should I be?”

“No, of course not. I was joking with you. But trust can be difficult when it comes to knowing pasts like mine. I’d understand if you’d be wary, even if you didn’t need to be.”

“I’m not worried one bit,” she said. “I don’t think there’s any chance you would do that to me.”

I looked at her there, sitting opposite me, a perfect flower in the bustling surroundings, and she was right. I wouldn’t ever do that to her. I’d give my all to keep her safe, not hurt her. There would be no chance of that.

My princess was growing into a gorgeous, heightened version of herself, glowing with confidence as she took a big bite of her burger. I wished the people around her could see how positive she was finding our relationship. Maybe new friends for her were the way ahead for her, at least for now.

“Ask Lola when you see her next,” I said. “We could go out for a meal, somewhere nice.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best,” she replied. “Lola told me earlier that Peter is still struggling a bit, stepping foot out in public. He still thinks people are judging him, and bitching about Lola.”

I could understand that. They probably were.

“Fine,” I said. “If it’s better for them, invite them over for a meal. They can sample my chef skills.”

“Can I?”

“Of course.”

Her nod sealed the deal.

“I will do. Thanks.”

We were hand in hand again when we left the burger bar and took the walk back home. My discomfort had eased away to virtually nothing, beyond caring about anyone else’s opinions. I barely observed the stares from passers-by. Rosie’s hand was warm in mine, and her pretty eyes kept shooting me glances as we approached the block. The chemistry was shifting from easy going burger sharers to dirty lovers. My sweet Eve was changing into Lilith with every step. And my sexuality was ready to strike from the very moment our front door closed behind us.

She was ready for it.

She was as desperate as I was for me to slam her into the wall and pin her arms above her head as I kissed her. She ground against my thigh and whimpered like a dirty little whore.

“Tell me what filth you want in your first chapter,” I whispered in her ear. “Let me know just how much of a slut you want to be on the pages.”

Her eyes were hooded, Lilith in full possession of her.

“As dirty as you can make me,” she said. “I’m serious. Make me fucking dirty.”

I let go of her arms and loosened my belt, taking out my cock in front of her. She was far hungrier for me than she was for vanilla milkshake, dropping to her knees and taking me into her mouth like she was starving. Her enthusiasm was gorgeous. I used her face like she was a slut in a brothel, out to serve, and she took it like she was one, so focused on my pleasure that she was a dribbling, retching mess. I loved her like that.

I tugged her to her feet before I blew my load, dragging her through to the living room to toss her face first over the arm of the sofa, her ass in the air. She didn’t need telling to wait as I got the toys and rope from the dining table. She moved herself to help me strip her bare without a sound, offering her hands behind her back as soon as she was naked. I bound them tight, taking her balance from her so she toppled completely, her face against the sofa seats as I gave her a slap, slap, slap on her sweet little butt.

Her bird-like shrieks were music to my balls. I slapped her harder, twice, three times, loving the jerk of her body and the white of her flesh pinking up nicely.

“Ouch,” she said and I slapped her other cheek so hard she cried out and squirmed.

Beautiful!

“Spread your legs,” I told her, and she shuffled. I could see her pussy lips begging for cock, but her asshole was begging, too. A few more slaps and I took the red marker, writing USE ME across her ass cheeks, and I kicked her legs even wider, so she was exposed like a cheap bitch.

Then I got my camera ready.

“Look back at me,” I said, and she tried.

Bent over the arm of the sofa, with her hands bound in rope behind her back, legs spread wide as her face twisted to smile at me, she looked like a fucked up little dolly in glasses.

Beautiful.

USE ME.

The pictures were worthy of any porn site in the world. The video I took as I ploughed her cunt with my dick would be a crime not to upload online, because she was a treasure the rest of mankind would go wild for.

My real talent wasn’t for video, though. My talent was for words.

I’d have to make sure my filthy words about her did her justice, capturing the purity of her innocence beneath the horny, needy bitch who needed to be fucked raw.

It was me who came first. She was still dripping cum from her pussy, still bound tight as I took to my knees and lapped her clean. She moaned so sweetly as I ate her out from behind, soaking my face as she came for me. And then I flipped her onto her back to do it again. Insatiable. Two bodies desperate, one body bound.

It was late when we collapsed in bed, both of us exhausted. Her hair was freshly washed coconut and her skin was soaped clean, but tonight that wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to leave more of a mark on her. I wanted my filth under her clothes when she was trying to be a good pupil in her lessons.

“Where are you going?” she asked as I pulled free of her arms and headed back to the living room.

“Be right back,” I said, returning moments later with the permanent black marker in my hand.

I pulled back the bedcovers to display her perky little tits, impressed when she stuck her chest out on instinct.

“Good girl,” I said and then wrote Julian’s little slut down her stomach, smiling proudly as I dropped the pen on the bedside table.

She didn’t protest, grinning brightly as I got back into bed beside her.

“Yes, I am,” she said.

She didn’t wash it off in the morning, bouncing off to college like she was heading to a fairground this time, not to a bitching hell hole. Her demeanour was definitely shifting and so was mine. I needed to embrace my own soul’s calling, just as she was embracing hers.

It felt bizarrely natural when I switched on my old laptop and called up a blank page, and any hangups I thought I might have disappeared to dust the moment my fingers hit the keyboard.

I didn’t stop writing all day.