scarred leash [2] - m.l
words: 9.7k
warnings: suggestive content, mentions of self harm, bdsm
part 1: scarred leash [1] - m.l
I had never felt pain quite like a hangover before, the dizziness of it, the hazy filter that lingered over my vision. It was completely awful, bad enough to put me off drinking for months to come. Though still, I felt thankful that Rose had taken me along, let me experience the night life in London. I had drunk alcohol, danced, kiss a stranger and then, cut myself. The ending perhaps wasn’t the high point, but the rest of the night had been incredible, and I needed to focus on that, the good. Particularly because work continued on as normal the following day. So, aside my throbbing head and pulsating arm, I was forced from the safety of my house and into work.
The entire world was dialled up to ten, the sky too bright, noise far too loud and each person that spoke to me or even nudged past my body seemed to annoy me beyond limit. I should have called in sick, I should have made up an excuse to stay home but instead, I pushed on. My arm was still bleeding the following day, leaking small droplets of blood onto my sheets. I tried my best to stop the bleeding but even through the doors on my workplace, I could feel the dampness attach itself to my shirt. Thankfully I had worn something red, so no one would notice, my stiff smile successfully convincing everyone that nothing was the matter. And the day went on as if everything was the same, as though my mind weren’t completely clouded over with sensual worry. Though I covered my anxiety with the mounds of work that stacked up on my desk, the thoughts were always lingering, attached to me like a mite. My entire knowledge of my own sexuality had dissolved and now, I worried I might never feel that relief ever again. That I would forever remain displeased, teetering on the edge.
As hours passed in the office, I had resolved to chewing my nails down to the nub and tapping my feet on my chair to help calm my nerves. I couldn’t think to eat or drink anything, nor could I think my work through entirely. The worst part was being aware that I wasn’t working to my own standards, merely because I was worried about my already non-existent sex life. The entire thing felt pathetic, a worry that changed my life not the slightest but simultaneously, changed everything. Ignoring the subject didn’t seem to help and so I spent much of my day allowing myself to fester over it. Letting my thoughts on the matter crawl in my stomach and turn over until I felt entirely too sick.
I thought of going into the bathroom, locking myself in a stall and crying for the rest of the day. Sobbing until my eyes were puffy and my throat was raw but that wasn’t possible. More paper was pushed onto my desk, the stack piling up until it seemed to threaten its topple. I watched it helplessly, trying to glance at the numbers and type them up as I did every day. My computer slowed to a near halt, the old models they used in the office weren’t particularly reliable, but they never froze like this. I felt a stiff groan bubble up my throat and explode into the air, my back arching from my chair as I desperately wiggled the mouse, willing it to work. My hopes were useless, the unfinished chart sprawled out across the screen, almost mocking my anguish. I could feel a growing need to bawl in my chest, lungs aching as they tried to control my breathing. Another round of muffled huffs coming from my mouth as I pushed myself away from my desk. The mouse clattered against the wood and fell to the ground, the thud roaming the room as heads perked up from the stalls surrounding me. I wished no one to come over and through the hope and my annoyed glare, people seemed to understand.
A moment passed before I even dared to glance upward, to pull myself back into the distressing reality of the scene I’d created. As I slowly returned myself to it, I watched a figure wander toward me, standing in the same place it had before. Mark held a tender expression, kind eyes sullen as he watched me pull myself back to the desk. Part of me wanted him to leave me be, to go back to his own stall and forget that this had ever happened, though, I could have used help with the computer. My eyes caught his, the umber warmth of them soothing the nausea in my tummy. A subdued smile bit at the corners of my mouth as I watched him lean over and inspect my frozen computer. My body careened to the side in order to give the boy beside me more room, his figure awkwardly close to me all of a sudden.
The warmth radiating from his skin expelled onto mine, making my cheeks flush maroon as I admired his tense expression. His fingers outstretched over the mouse he had picked from the floor, his hand tensing as he clicked. Small groans left his mouth as he furiously tried to make the device work but just as I had experienced, it wasn’t complying whatsoever. Mark began viciously wiggling the mouse as I had, the groans becoming louder as he reached over to press on the keyboard. I tried to move my body away though by the time he had leant over, his arm had already stretched over my chest. I pushed backward, my skin burning where his suit shirt had brushed against me, chest aching from the tension. As I watched him attentively, Mark pushed on random keys, mumbling away to himself in the deepness of his accent. The smile poking at my lips grew a little wider, my shaky fingers keeping to their place on the desk as they began wanting to run over the digits of his hand. Wanting to feel the glow of his tanned skin, the supple shape of his fingers, the curvature of his hand.
His groans continued as he pressed more keys, my eyes flitting back to the screen every so often. While he pressed a few, the computer began working a little, the screen changing. The uncompleted graph disappearing from it as suddenly things began popping up. At first it was merely the internet homepage, or my work email, as things that were easily mistakenly opened, though as he pressed more buttons, it became more personal. Mark clicked down on a page accidentally, my web browser history appearing on the screen, my stomach immediately tightening to a painful degree.
Unfortunately, there was no computer in my flat and the one at work was easily accessible. I hadn’t looked up anything explicit, nor had I gone looking for anything that would warrant a scolding. However, in the past few weeks I had been researching different things under incognito tabs, areas that I had maybe had interest in but had never understood. My internet history boasted no scandalous films but instead mere questions such as “what is masochism?” and “how to know if you are a masochist?” I hadn’t quite understood it still but at least my curiosity was satisfied although now, my curiosity was open to Mark. I could see him reading through the search history, sounding out words that brushed against his lips. Through the tense expression scrawled into his face, I could see him working it all out in his head. The cogs twisting until his lips hung open slightly, eyes still stuck to the screen not moving. By the time I reacted about five seconds after the page had popped up, it was far too late.
In a flurry of panic, I lifted my still bleeding arm and swiped it across the desk. My fingers knocking over Mark’s hand as I reached to close the page and in turn, hide my dwindling curiosity into sex. I tried my best to close the tab quickly but as I did so, I failed to notice my sleeve riling up, revealing another thing I wished Mark to not know. I raised up until half of my forearm was showing, slashes marking the skin, the blood and collection of scars coating the newer cuts all visible to the man leaning over me. My stomach twisted so uncomfortably I felt vomit rise in my throat, my entire body clenching while I pulled my arm back and hid the cuts once more.
I waited, expecting Mark to begin spewing out profanities and accusations that I was completely insane. Which may have been true but still, I didn’t want such things screamed out into the office. I waited a moment more, expecting it to come at any minute now but as time withered on, it never did. Mark merely stared down at the table top for a while, his eyes still just as soft and tender as they had been toward me before. And as he eventually glanced up, his expression was sympathetic, not at all disgusted or even the slightest bit confused. In fact, I felt like I was the one who was perplexed, my pulse oddly regular for the situation, though my mind was still hazy and spinning. I merely glanced back up at Mark, his almond eyes stuck on mine as though I would shatter if he looked away even for a second. My other hand came up to cradle my injured arm, hiding it from Mark.
‘Ellie,’ He mumbled suddenly, his voice quiet.
‘It’s okay, I’m fine.’
‘Did you, did you do these?’ He asked softly, fingers moving slightly closer toward almost as though he wanted to reach out and help. I couldn’t bring myself to let him, I couldn’t even bring myself to give him an honest answer.
‘I don’t wanna talk about it.’ I let myself whisper.
‘They look pretty serious.’
‘They’re fine.’ I answered quickly, gaping up at him with cold eyes trying my best to remain completely composed. Though I knew tears were poking at my orbs, my cheeks hot with embarrassment.
‘Okay.’ Mark mumbled sadly, his voice rough as if it were nearly breaking. In part, I was still glad he hadn’t mentioned the search history though I was sure self-harming was a little more serious that some searches. His voice closed off altogether, and his body began drifting from my desk. Hands lifting from the surface as his eyes disconnecting from mine. It should have been a relief but instead, it only made me feel worse.
As Mark continued to tread away from me, I felt a nauseating thought that he might tell someone overwhelm me. My chest burning as I blurted out his name into the office, his head turning and feet stepping nearer me, so I could keep my voice quiet.
‘Please don’t tell anyone.’
‘Of course.’ He muttered back to me, nodding as he spoke trying his best to force a smile over his lips. I mirrored his expression faux security coming over my mouth as I watched him return to wander from me. A tear spat down my cheek as Mark turned the corner to sit back at his own desk, his form disappearing altogether. I felt so entirely awful, for impending that on him, someone who likely wanted nothing to do with me, or my own looming thoughts about pain and masochism. Someone who likely wanted to work alongside with me with no hassle, and now he knew so much more than I’d ever intended. I felt I had ruined it, ruined whatever chance I had at a friendship with someone nearer my own age, with someone as polite and witty as Mark. I’d ruined it, and I felt now as though my communications with him were entirely over, that the conversation would be our last.
I tried to not talk about work too much with Rose and tried not to discuss personal things with any one of my co-workers. I kept the two entirely separate and merely peddled through life aimlessly, allowing a sense of emptiness to come over me. Routine bevelled down into me so strongly that I couldn’t envision myself ever straying from it, and that, upset me. I returned home again, an entire week since I had spoken to Mark, since he had seen two sides of myself that I kept locked up. I tried not to think about it much and Mark had continued to smile at me as we passed one another in the hallway but it still felt like a nagging scab.
My body pulled itself from the chilly atmosphere on the street into the familiar warmth of my home. Feet pacing up the stairs until I stepped into the living room and spotted Rose sprawled out across the sofa. A throw away television show was chattering away in the background, though Rose quickly forgot about it as she heard my entry. Her head poking up from its place on the couch, her beaming grin greeting me as I strode further into the room, my dull expression a juxtaposition to hers. I wandered over and slumped my body beside her on the sofa, limbs a jangled mess as they stretched my work clothes. I grumbled beneath my breath, Rose sitting up, allowing me more room as she chuckled at my obvious displeasure. Her hand cradled my shoulder, careened around me on the back of the sofa while I melted into her hold, thankful to be home. I huffed out a relieved sigh, my eyes scrunching as Rose again, merely chuckled.
‘You alright, pumpkin?’ Rose asked, my eyes opening to look at her as I nodded in response.
‘Just knackered.’
‘The harsh reality of the working world.’ My roommate exclaimed dramatically, throwing her free arm out into the air as she threw her head back. I felt a supple grin nudge the corners of my lips but still, I couldn’t make myself smile, not even for Rose.
I groaned from below, head slumped on the pillows surrounding my motionless form. ‘Says you! You go on dates for a living.’ I felt a chuckle leave my lips, looking up to find Rose grinning back at me. We didn’t often discuss her profession, she had only briefly mentioned her multitude of perverted sugar daddies and the snippets I heard made me feel sick. Though it didn’t make me think any less of her, in fact, it only gained her more of my respect.
‘Hey, you know how hard it is to keep a customer satisfied? Especially when that customer is an old, white, closeted gay man.’
‘And you’re very talented at it.’ I added, lifting myself so I could sit up and maintain eye contact without my neck snapping. Rose beamed and shrugged as she often did when receiving compliments.
‘I know, I’m brilliant.’ I giggled as she spoke, leaning my head on the soft muscle of her bicep. My forced laughter filled the room so wholly that I almost missed the question that then fell from Rose’s mouth.
‘So, any girls or guys you like?’
My head perked up from her arm, eyes squinting for a moment before I pieced together what she had asked. I immediately understood that she was referring to Mark, who I had mentioned in passing once or twice. Though the only information I had let out was that he was sweet, attractive and close to my age. If Rose had asked me the same question the week prior, I may have been inclined to grin entirely smitten and mumble away about the crescent shape Mark’s hair naturally fell in. Or the way his bottom lip would dip between his teeth in concentration, or how he mumbled cute profanities when the coffee machine wouldn’t work. But now, I just felt upset, knowing that I couldn’t rant away about him like an infatuated schoolgirl. Instead, as Rose waited for an answer, I pulled my knees up to my chest and huffed.
‘No, not really.’
‘What about that skinny Asian kid from work?’ Rose interrogated, a slight smile coming to my mouth at how she referred to Mark. Out of all the physical qualities, she had picked that he was skinny and Asian as the defining ones though I supposed, to anyone that only knew him in passing, that’s all he was.
‘Mark?’
‘Yeah, yeah, the guy from work.’
‘You mean, the skinny Asian kid from work?’ I quipped, eyebrows furrowed as Rose rolled her dark orbs.
‘I couldn’t remember his name, I’m sorry.’
‘It’s cool.’ I mumbled, hoping we could forget the topic of Mark altogether.
‘So?’ Rose nudged me with the tip of her elbow, prodding the bone into the pulpy flesh of my upper arm.
‘So?’
‘You like him, right?’
‘Uh, yeah, he’s cute.’ I said, trying to stay nonchalant, as though it were a surface level sort of thing, like most crushes were supposed to be.
‘And he’s nice?’
‘Yeah.’ I mumbled staring down at my feet, feeling the words Mark had said to me last roll back like patient waves on a shore.
‘So, ask him out.’ Rose near commanded, her voice higher in pitch as she muttered the suggestion. My eyes snapped upward to glare at her, head shaking adamantly while she merely smiled at me. As though she knew something I was completely hidden from. I continued shaking my head, face tensing.
‘Why not?’
‘I just, I don’t know.’ I exclaimed, my voice raising in volume as I began to feel more strongly about the topic. ‘There’s so many things that could go wrong with dating, and relationships and besides, I have no idea what I’m doing with, any of it.’
‘Ask him to teach you.’ Rose uttered, wiggling her eyebrows furiously. My palm came up to lightly tap her arm, though it didn’t stop the giggles from filling the entirety of the room.
‘No! Oh my god!’
Rose continued to laugh as the idea of my virtue, of the concepts that roamed the depths of her mind while mine sank to a different place. Recalling how, if even I wanted to try something with Mark, I couldn’t. My laughs stopped completely, mind replaying out last conversation as though it were one of the macabre erotic films I watched when I was younger.
‘He, saw my cuts last week,’ I whispered, barely audible but still, Rose caught it. Her laughter stopping and head raising as she listened intently. ‘At work.’
‘Saw them, saw them?’
‘Yeah, he, uh, yeah.’ I stifled, my voice cracking.
‘Did he say anything?’ Rose asked. I was unsure how to answer that question for I was unsure what a normal person would say if they saw a co-worker self-harming. If it would be more rational to throw a fit like I had expected, or merely go on with life like you’d never known, like Mark had.
‘Not really. It, um, it kinda seemed like he was, but then he didn’t. I asked him not to, not to tell anyone or anything like that, so he didn’t. He did exactly what I told him to.’ I explained miserably.
‘He’s nice.’
‘Yeah…’ I mumbled, trying to shake the sombre from my bones, ‘can we talk about something else, um, what about Andy?’
‘Andy?’ Rose repeated as though she had never heard that name in her life which caused me to sigh.
‘Yeah, how is he? I haven’t seen him since we went out, and you haven’t talked about him.’
‘Oh, he’s okay.’ Rose stated, as if I should have known. ‘We’re just, not seeing each much at the moment, he works,’ she rolled her eyes, ‘beside, we’re in an open relationship, it’s not like I’m lonely. Guys flock to me, because,’ she waited for me to answer.
‘Because you’re gorgeous, and sexually insatiable, as I have heard on numerous occasions.’
‘And,’
‘And?’
‘I’m hung.’ Rose said triumphantly, smiling ear to ear fraudulently. ‘The body of a twink and the feminine mind of a lady.’
‘And soon, you’ll have the mind of a woman and the body of one, right? I mean, they’re starting you on hormone at some point?’ Rose had mentioned hormone a couple times and often obsessed over her doctor’s appointment, I understood why. It was imperative that she transition soon, she had waited for so long already.
‘Sure, next month apparently,’ she shrugged, ‘but I’m not done saving up money and I need a lot of it, for top surgery.’ I hadn’t heard the term before and I couldn’t put my finger on what it meant.
‘Top surgery?’ I enquired like a bewildered child.
‘Boobs.’
‘Oh,’ I felt stupid for not getting it though Rose seemed to take pity on that fact, ‘well, you’ll get them soon. And besides, boobs are overrated anyway.’ I consoled her. I knew the pain of lugging around the lumps of fat on my chest and often wished my breasts to shrink down until they were pretty and perky. But for Rose, it was incredibly important that she experience every facet of being a woman, because she was one.
‘Not for me, I’ve wanted them since I was eight, I want them so bad.’ She groaned, pushing her hands against the stuffed bra she always wore.
‘I’ll donate, you can have mine.’ I smiled, falling into her once more as she held my form in her arms.
‘Aw, thank you chick pea.’ I giggled at the return of her nicknames and listened as she laughed in harmony with me. Our chuckles poured out into the room, dancing through the air until they were burrowed beneath a louder, harsher sound. The sound of our telephone ringing out into the flat, deafening us with its powerful spray of noise. I was taken aback, shocked by the sound though I was the one to jump up. Lifting myself from beside Rose and running across the room to grab the device, doing anything to stop the sound. My thumb hit answer and my fingers pressed the phone to my ear as the loud ringing abruptly stopped.
I waited for a voice.
‘Hello?’ I called out into the phone.
‘Is this Ellie, uh, Ellie Brewer?’ The accent, the accent. It danced to me through the phone line, I knew, merely from the accent alone.
‘Yes, sorry, who’s speaking?’ I questioned although my mind had already latched onto the answer.
‘Oh, shit, sorry. It’s Mark, hi.’ He audibly worried, his voice spewing out short words as though his mind were too cloudy to process anything more.
‘Hi.’ I mewled back to him.
‘Sorry for calling out the blue.’
‘No, no, it’s cool, I just, didn’t expect it.’ It was me who was flapping, my speech awkward and all too breathy for my natural tone. My stomach was in knots, chest barely able to breathe without feeling the relief of burn that riled over it. Mark had called me, he had called me with no prompt, merely because he wished to do so. It felt fake, as though my vision were coated with a dreamlike sensation that tingled in my fingertips.
‘What’s up?’ I called out to him once more, this time stifling my nerves until he wouldn’t be able to hear them.
‘Do you, wanna go for a drink with me?’ Mark asked softly, the deepness of his accent pouring out to me over the phone line. An ache dulled in my loin, fingers shaking as they struggled to hold the phone to my ear.
‘Uh sure,’ I coughed out through thick nerves, ‘when?’
‘Now?’ He asks, my chest aching ten times over. I began to panic, now? I felt awful, full of snot and slumber from long hours of work though the idea of seeing Mark invigorated me like nothing else ever had.
‘Right,’
‘Is it bad timing?’ He began worrying aloud again.
‘No, no, I’d love to.’ I cut him off.
‘Cool,’ I listened to him sigh on the other side of the line, his transfixing groan fluttering toward me yet again, making my stomach turn. ‘If you tell me your address, I could come pick you up?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I glanced back at Rose who was merely sat staring at me, her eyes wild and smile crazed. Though giddy curiosity smirked over her face, I knew she could already guess who was on the phone. I grinned back at her before turning all my attention once again, to Mark. ‘It’s 56 Gresham Road, near Brixton Station.’
‘Oh right, cool.’
‘Is that close to you?’
‘About twenty minutes away, it’s not too far. So, when should I come round?’ He enquired rather innocently.
‘Couple hours?’
‘Yeah, yeah, cool, cool. I’ll see you then.’
‘See you in a bit.’ I mumbled back to him before putting the phone back down on the stand, allowing the call to come to an end. My hands gripped the side of the bookshelf for stability, my skin feverishly sweaty. Mark called.
As I turned back around and trail back to the sofa, Rose stared at me in awe, clearly concerned about my expression. One of panic, dazed, excited, but panic, nonetheless. She waited for me to sit beside her before the sudden tsunami of questions hits me, her hand holding onto my covered forearm as I gazed up at her.
‘Was that?’
‘Mark.’ I nodded slowly, a smile beginning to crack at my lips, mouth outstretched until I looked sufficiently crazy. Though by the time I said his name, Rose seemed as dizzily happy as I was, her giggles roaming the room. She jumped in her spot on the sofa, tugging on my arm.
‘Really! Oh my god, did you give him your number?’
‘No, I think he got it from Marge, another co-worker, office mum, wants me to get out there.’ I chuckled, still bewildered by the call. I sat back on the couch, allowing it to sink in, that he would be here in two hours.
‘So? What did he say?’
‘He invited me out for drinks.’ I grinned up at Rose, my body leaning into her as I chuckled.
‘Yes! When?’
‘In two hours.’
‘Holy shit, holy shit.’ Rose continued to mumble the two words underneath her breath, eyes skipping across the room in more panic than I had.
‘I know.’
‘Right,’ she said calmly, standing up before me and reaching out her hands. I placed my fingers in her palms, allowing her to haul me up from the comfort and safety of the sofa. ‘We have to make you look fuckable.’
‘Rose!’ I exclaimed, partially offended that she didn’t think I looked fuckable in that moment, or always. But also beginning to panic that that was why Mark had invited me out. My thighs pursed together in worry yet supple, slightly too innocent curiosity.
‘More fuckable.’ Rose corrects herself.
‘Thanks.’ I roll my eyes, my hands sweaty as Rose guides me from the living room and toward her room. A room filled with glitters and showy clothes, things that were gorgeous, beautiful like Rose. My stomach tightened at the idea of wearing anything but a pencil skirt in the presence of Mark.
‘C’mon, I’ll help you get ready.’ My friend insisted, leading me to her makeshift salon as I mentally prepared myself for all that was to come that night. A thick belt of nerves gulping down my throat all at once.
The knock finally came after twenty minutes of sitting around, after Rose had finished her renovation job on me. I felt sick, and shy all of a sudden. Rose had to nudge my arm to pry me from my seat, watching proudly as I waved her goodbye and disappeared down the stairs. My feet shook as I wandered the steps, my trainers more comfortable than the stilettos Rose had suggested. I hadn’t the strength to walk in them all night and besides, if I had worn them, I would likely tower over Mark.
Mark.
He would be stood behind the door, not in a silver suit that was slightly too large for him. He would be wearing normal clothes, his tired eyes a little sleepy this late into the night, his hair messy. My thighs tensed, pushing myself to the door and pulling the barrier back with nervous fingers. As the separation disappeared, I was finally able to see the boy stood on my doorstep. I felt myself smile at the mere sight of him, his eyes glancing over my figure as his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. I was definitely out of my comfort zone, but there was no doubt that Rose had improved upon me. Styling me almost methodically to show off every good feature, my breasts, bright eyes, long legs. And somehow still minimizing my boyish hips and waist and my fat that loomed over my tummy and legs. I didn’t mind the way I looked when Rose styled me, I felt good, almost bordering on confident. Though I was nothing compared to how Mark appeared in the darkening light of the street.
The relaxed atmosphere only seemed to highlight how beautiful he was. Hair tousled and messy, exposing his forehead only slightly, it fell naturally, like the branches of a tree. Scattered onto his skin that shone underneath the streetlight, dotted moles appearing like stars in the consolation of his complexion. I wished to kiss him then and there, and let this immense longing be done with. Though instead, I smiled politely and stepped down off my doorstep to wander with him. Watching as he pulled the sleeves of his brown jumper up to show his forearms, his hands almost begging to be held. I found the courage to step away from the safety of my home and begin the journey to whichever bar Mark was to choose.
‘You look really nice.’ I mumbled toward him, his eyes lighting up as he grinned. His fingers began to fumble around themselves, his posture still tense.
‘Thanks, you look, really pretty.’ I merely smiled in response, the wideness of the grin far too toothy but still, I hoped he would find it endearing anyhow.
We only spoke fleetingly to one another as we ambled through the streets, though his eyes were stuck to me like pins, looking as I admired each building. I liked being watched by him, I liked being underneath the scrutiny of his care, I enjoyed his gaze attached to me. My fingers fumbled with the ends of my own sleeves, tugging them down instinctively all the way to the bar. I could tell Mark had selected it before coming to pick me up, that it wasn’t a spur of the moment choice. Instead, it seemed he had deliberately picked a bar that was warm, full of energy and bright lights, everything that would peak my interest. My eyes widened up at him as we wandered into the building, the silence between us comfortable, natural. I inspected each detail of the bar, the neon signs attached to the walls, the pretty pastel colour palette, the selection of alcohol lining the bar wall. A wash of shock came over me when I saw how empty the bar was though I knew most people favoured louder clubs. In this building however, the music was quiet, peaceful as was the atmosphere. I stood, merely gawping up at it all as Mark chuckled, the angelic sound bringing my attention back down upon him.
He sat at the bar first, tapping the seat beside him with his slender fingers. I watched intently and followed his motion, placing myself next to his figure and staring up at him for the next order.
‘What would you like to drink?’
‘Are we,’ I leant in slightly, ‘drinking alcohol?’
Mark chuckled, ‘If you like.’
‘I’ll just have a coke.’ I smiled at him, feeling slightly clueless without the guidance of Rose with me. I watched as Mark ordered the drinks, his voice calm and smooth as he did so. It was odd seeing him out of the office like this, where he and everyone else were equals instead of him being surrounded by older people. In here, Mark seemed entirely in control of himself and the atmosphere entirely.
‘This is awkward?’ He half asked.
‘No,’ I shook my head immediately, ‘I don’t feel awkward, I’m just, a little bit nervous.’
‘You’re nervous?’ Mark chuckled, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head a little. I smiled at his adorable actions.
‘Yeah.’
‘I was nervous to ask,’ he confessed, pressing a finger to his chest, ‘I’ve been trying to rile up the courage to do it all week.’ I felt my chest tighten as he spoke, his words sweet like honey. I began to let my mind drift to our previous, brief conversation, how that would have added to his nerves, or even caused them.
‘Is that the only reason you didn’t ask sooner?’ I enquired softly, my voice just above a whisper. Mark pulled himself closer to my stool, his knee skimming against the thigh high socks Rose had put me in. I pressed my thighs tighter together, afraid if I opened them any amount that I would show much more than I expected.
‘Well, that and, I needed to think, I guess.’ Mark sighed as he spoke, lifting a hand and sprawling his digits out in his hair. As he dropped the hand back to his jeans with a soothing slap, he spoke again. ‘Does that sound like an excuse, it isn’t, I just.’
‘No, not at all.’ I interrupted.
‘Cool.’ He smiled to himself and looked up as the bartender returned with two glasses. The tall man placed them down onto the table top.
‘Here you are, one coke and one Ribena, enjoy.’ He smiled politely, exchanging the drinks with Mark’s money before leaving us once more. Mark cupped his face in his palm, sighing as he let his features drop against the shield. I merely giggled.
‘Well, that’s embarrassing.’ Mark groaned, peering up and looking over his childish drink.
‘No, no, it’s cute.’ I assured him, watching as he immediately pulled the drink toward himself.
‘In that case.’ He mumbled and began taking sips from the glass and I followed his actions, allowing the benign fluid to fill my tummy. We sat for a moment and let our drinks settle, before Mark began fidgeting again, shuffling in his seat.
‘So,’
‘So?’ I giggled.
‘Tell me all about yourself.’
‘Myself.’ I whispered beneath my breath.
‘Yeah.’ Mark chuckled as I began thinking to myself about how much I should tell him. I wondered if I should lie and create an elaborate and entertaining back story for myself, although I decided against it. I wanted to be honest with Mark and so, I let myself speak candidly.
‘Well, I’m from a tiny village just outside of Sheffield, I moved here a couple weeks before I started work, and I’ve been doing that ever since. I’ve had it planned out for a long time.’ I explain and though it wasn’t much, it is the most information I had told anyone in London all at once, in one long breath.
‘That’s it? No family, no heart wrenching stories about your first love, no scandalous secrets?’ I chuckled as Mark complained, watching him list the things that I didn’t have.
‘I have family.’
‘That’s a start, go on.’
‘My dad and older brother left when I was a baby, so, I don’t know them whatsoever. I was left with my mum and grandma, who were both pretty overprotective, so its just me now, well and Rose.’ I mumbled out coldly, speaking on such things as though they weren’t members of my family. I didn’t feel they were anyone, I felt everything from before London was merely fragments of a past life.
‘Rose?’ Mark enquired gently, and he sipped more juice from his glass.
‘My roommate, she dressed me.’ I shrugged, pulling at the loose material of my skirt and the much tighter material of my shirt. The stiffness of the silk garment sticking to my curves like leeches, the cleavage much lower than anything my work clothes showed.
‘I need to buy Rose a thank you present.’
‘Shut up!’ I groaned at him, bringing a single hand down upon his thigh. He mumbled beneath his breath and chuckled at my feeble actions, merely staring at me as I took another gulp of my drink and grew more comfortable in his presence.
‘So, what about you?’
‘Me?’ He quipped, pointing to himself dramatically as I rolled my eyes.
‘Yes!’
‘So, obviously, I’m not from here.’
‘Evidently.’ I said, trailing off in my own accent which was a million times less attractive as his.
‘I can’t tell if that was an accent joke, or an Asian joke?’ Mark squinted his eyes as me as I giggled, slightly taken aback by how warm his sense of humour was. I slowly forgot about my modesty as my figure melted into him, my nerves dissipating almost entirely. My thighs parted enough to let one of Mark’s knees sit between them, the contact kind and not alerting whatsoever.
‘Accent.’ I confirmed through giggles.
‘No, yeah, I’m originally from Vancouver.’ He said, sipping his drink as his accent grew thick and almost as palpable as a third person. Canada, that explained quite a lot, the awkward politeness for a start.
‘Oh, cool.’
‘Yeah, Vancouver until I was eight, and then Queens, in New York from eight until thirteen and then Ontario, Canada until I was eighteen and then, I moved here on my lonesome.’ He listed the places on his fingers, losing eye contact with me to recall all the places he had lived.
‘So, your family is still in Canada?’
‘Yeah, my parents and older brother all live over there, rest of my family is mostly in Korea, I think.’ Mark explained away as a larger picture of his life began to form in my mind. It brought a fuzzy feeling to my stomach, to think about what his childhood had been like. If he was a creative kid who sat indoors scrawling childish drawings over the walls or if he played soccer outside with his dad and brother. The more I thought about it, the wider my smile became and the more I wanted to know.
‘But you’re close?’
‘Oh yeah, don’t see them as much as I would like to but we’re close, we’ve always been really close.’
‘That’s nice.’ I smiled, thinking back to my own parents, the brother I knew nothing about. In a way, I was a bit jealous of Mark, but I also knew that I knew very little about his childhood, certainly not enough to decide whether it warranted jealousy.
‘It is.’ He smiled warmly.
‘What made you decide London?’ I enquired further, wishing to pull all the information I could.
‘Oh, well, I’ve always wanted to live in England, and London is, you know,’ he chuckled, ‘massive. I decided to go to college here after high school, so I studied music for a year and then switched to business. And then, boom, here I am working in stocks.’ Mark chuckled once more, this time dryer.
‘Just like that.’ I repeated, my fingers skimming the top of my glass. Allowing each of his words to sink in deeply.
‘Just like that. What, what about you, why London?’
‘It’s big,’ I laughed at myself, pushing fallen strands of hair from my face as my eyes kept to Mark. Watching him smile at me, his round orbs still as tender as ever. ‘Pretty much the opposite of where I grew up.’
‘You didn’t like it?’ He enquired rather curiously, his expression growing slightly more serious.
‘No, not really.’
‘Why?’
‘I just, grew up very sheltered. I hardly ever left the village,’ I explained, downplaying its actuality, ‘I had very little experience with anything, so, I kind of needed to go out on my own.’
Mark merely nodded along to my words, though eventually his eyes began to wander. Dancing from my features, down my figure until they became entranced on my forearms. Watching how the material of my jacket twisted as I leant to sip from my glass, his eyes unravelling the thing, so he could see what lingered below, if anything were still lingering
‘Mark?’ I called out to him, gazing as his head perked up and eyes returned to mine.
‘Yeah.’
‘Did you, I mean, tell anyone about the,’ I couldn’t quite bring myself to say it. Bring myself to reminisce as though it were a real thing that had happened, still I couldn’t do it. Not even as I sat with Mark at the bar, where I had been laughing and bonding with him.
‘No, no, no one.’ He assured me immediately though I could still see his eyes drawing back to my arms, wheels spinning in his head.
‘You want to ask.’ I stated plainly.
‘No,’ Mark tried to keep his eyes merely upon my face, but I could tell even when he weren’t looking down that he wanted to know, almost needed to. ‘I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.’ He insisted.
‘But you’re curious.’
‘A little.’ He said quickly, as though I would scold him for saying such a thing. Instead, I felt myself grow calmer, better about the situation now Mark seemed oddly interested in it.
‘I’ve never really spoken to anyone about it.’ I admitted, chuckling as I did so, as if to lessen the blow.
‘You don’t have to,’ Mark told me quickly, his voice a little louder, hand itching to cradle my arm. I sighed as he spoke, staring down as I placed both my hands in the centre of my lap. ‘I just,’ he sighed, ‘I want to know why? Its been picking at me all week.’
My eyes closed, another sigh bubbling in my throat as he mumbled the words into the air. I wondered if that was the only reason he had asked me out, if I had become but a side show attraction to entertain him. I hoped better of him, I didn’t want him to merely think of me as a broken toy, I wanted him to see me whole, as an equal.
‘Are you here just because of that?’ I mumbled, my question coming out frail and almost inaudible. Head facing the ground before I pushed myself to gently peer up at Mark, my eyes big and longing.
‘What? No,’ Mark answered immediately, voice angrier though it didn’t seem to be directed at me but merely my question. I felt a spur of comfortability lean back into my stomach, my eyes finding it easier to keep contact with him. ‘You intrigue me.’ He blurted.
‘What,’
‘You intrigue me.’ Mark repeated. ‘I sit at my desk and I wonder what’s going on in your head, what you’re thinking about, who you’re thinking about,’
‘Mark,’ I groaned, almost interrupting him although he hurried out the words, seemingly afraid if he stopped speaking that he wouldn’t be able to begin again.
‘I wonder about you all the time, I think about you all the time. I’ve just been too nervous to ask anything, I’m, trying to take that leap.’ He said honestly, looking down as finally he stopped speaking. As my chest pounded from the speeding rate of my heartbeat, I waited for the moment to settle. A thousand thoughts spiralling through my head as I desperately tried to catch the flying words in order to make a coherent sentence. All I could think of that made sense was that he had earned the right to know, as much as I did about why I hurt myself.
I gulped, stomach tensing as I rushed out one singular sentence. ‘I used to cut myself as a punishment.’
‘For what?’ Mark enquired calmly, leaning into me a little more. His denim covered knees prodding my inner thigh.
‘For being me,’ I shrugged, shuffling against his touch, ‘for thinking the way I did, for feeling the things I felt, for looking the way I looked. I punished myself for anything I possibly could.’
‘But?’ Mark added, eyebrows raised. I pondered over how he knew that there was more, that my reasoning had changed over the years. I questioned my features, if my expression had given it away or if Mark was now able to read my mind.
‘It stopped being that when I was about sixteen,’ I continued confessing, the words pouring from me like water seeping into a broken boat. ‘Since then, I, I don’t really know why I do it.’
‘Can I ask something? And you don’t have to answer,’ Mark told me, placing the tips of his fingers on the edge of my knee as he spoke. Nodding at me as though he were a parent warning me against danger, and watching patiently as I in turn, nodded back. ‘If it makes you uncomfortable, throw the Ribena in my face and I will leave, I’ll leave you alone.’ I wanted to beg him never to leave me alone, never.
‘Okay.’ I merely replied, giggling at I spoke.
Mark inhaled deeply, as if he were about to place devastating news upon me. Though instead, he merely asked one, fairly simple question. ‘Do you cut yourself because you get off on it?’
I couldn’t breathe, suddenly it felt like I was floating, my body adrift in the air watching the scene play out from above. I couldn’t speak, my throat was clenched and burning from the immediate thoughts that rolled through my brain. Mark was right in his assumption. I did get off on feeling the pain that harming myself brought. I’d never had anyone else to confide in, any other way to express it. Cutting myself worked, it was swift relief, and I didn’t have to tell anyone about it then. I merely convinced myself I was being punished instead of being gifted the pain I received. Mark was right, and I had no clue how he was right. For the first time since arriving in London, I felt entirely outsmarted, confused about feelings I thought I had figured out years ago. I now understood, I knew nothing about my own sexuality, my own being. I hadn’t known it had been the pain I got off on, I hadn’t known there was any other way to receive pain sexually if you weren’t inflicting on yourself. And now, someone who seemed to know that perfectly sat in front of me, and I couldn’t find my voice.
‘Let me, let me reword that,’ Mark continued after a few moments of silence, ‘do you, cut yourself because you get off on pain? Is it, that, doing that is the only way you’ve ever known to deal with it?’ Right again.
I simply nodded, still too nervous to speak although I rutted up the courage to give him a sort of response. Mark began to nod along with me as he mumbled an okay beneath his breath.
‘How did you?’ I stifled out, my curiosity getting the better of me.
‘The search history, the, well, you seemed confused about it. I tried to put two and two together.’
‘You’re not confused?’ I questioned, trying to relieve my nerves with a stiff, awkward chuckle. It bellowed into the air dry as I waited for Mark to respond, sipping my drink to soothe my throat.
‘A little, but not as much as you.’ He smiled innocently, calming my anxiousness more than my drink seemed to.
‘Thanks,’ I muttered through more chuckles, another question pouring out on the end of my laughter, ‘so, do you, as well?’ I couldn’t bare to make myself say it. Hey, do you also get off on being hurt? It sounded ridiculous and I could understand why it had taken Mark so long to ask. Though if he felt similarly, it would make sense for him to be so knowledgeable about the topic.
‘No, I,’ Mark cut himself off, though his eyes still held the glimmer of something he wanted to say. I wondered what could be so bad, worse than what I had just admitted to him. My stomach tightened as he fell to silence before beginning once more, ‘I’m normal.’
‘Normal.’ I repeated, slightly offended.
‘I didn’t mean, like that.’
‘I know,’ I said whilst smiling, ‘you’re just a wimp, what do people say? Um, vanilla, that’s it.’
Mark laughed at my words, his eyes closing as he leant his head back. When he returned to glance at me, his eyes seemed darker, pupils dilated. His head careening upward, almost cocking to the side. ‘That’s probably it.’
‘Well, as long as it’s not pee.’ I mumbled.
‘No, no,’ Mark laughed harder, more genuine this time, his voice cracking as he giggled. ‘Nothing like that.’
I merely watched him giggle until my eyes latched upon the dark sky outside, and the completely empty bar, my nerves returning. ‘It’s getting pretty late.’
‘Okay, c’mon,’ Mark pulled away from his stool suddenly, the heat from his covered legs disappearing from underneath my skirt. A groan threatened to pass my lips as Mark stood tall above my seated figure. I waited for a moment and then followed him, expecting a goodbye to slip through his mouth, instead, he added on to what he had previously said, ‘I’ll walk you home.’
We wandered through the same streets we had walked upon when Mark had first picked me up. Although now, they were completely barren of any people, and the street lights seemed dim in comparison to the brightness of the moon. The two of us giggled along to awful jokes, and fleeting recollections of childhood memories, as I tried my best to think of good occasions from my childhood. I puzzled if he would bring up the topic of masochism again, since he now knew that was what I was as now, I did too. But it seemed he wouldn’t and the closer we walked to my flat, the more disappointed I felt that he hadn’t questioned me on it further. A boil of tension unravelled in my loin, a tension that seemed it was going to stay a long while.
I stood on my doorstep once more, facing outward as Mark slowly stopped chuckling from a joke he himself had muttered five minutes prior.
‘Thank you for tonight, I had a really good time, a really, really nice time.’ I muttered through a wide smile, and rosy, aching cheeks. My cold fingers unhooking my hair from my mouth as Mark finally stopped giggling.
‘Me too.’ He grinned. ‘We should, we should do this again some time.’ I felt my chest burst at his words.
‘Definitely.’
‘I’ll see you at work on Monday?’ Mark asked uselessly, as if he were merely saying things, so he had an excuse to stay for a moment longer. My hands knotted together through jumbled fingers, my smile beaming out into the darkness of my street.
‘Of course.’ I giggled girlishly.
‘Okay, um, goodnight.’ He finally said, standing motionless but turning a fragment from me. I figured he was likely waiting until I had gone in safely but realising I had to be the one to walk away was aggravatingly painful.
‘Night.’ I mewled before turning to walk back into my flat, before saying goodbye to Mark properly. It felt like something was missing in my stomach, something that was hooked upon him like an anchor. As I unlocked my house and heard the slow footsteps of Mark wandering away, I spun on my heels and headed back toward him.
As I stood on my tip toes, I pursed my lips and pressed them to the supple complexion of Mark’s cheek. My kiss soothing out against his skin, lingering for a brief moment before I stepped back and smiled at him. Mark seemed slightly taken aback, his mouth hanging open a little, merely watching me as I began to wander from him again. Though I only got two steps before I felt a grip tense over my wounded forearm, tight enough to make me wince with pain. I stared back at Mark, allowing him to pull me closer, my chest nearly colliding with his.
We were closer than we had ever been, so close I could feel every breath he took, every hair on my body standing to attention. I knew when he looked at me that we would kiss; I may have been naïve, but I wasn’t that naïve. I wanted to grin, giddy about it but my mind clouded over with intense want for him, deep, carnal want. Mark waited until I melted into him and then lifted his hand from his own side, pressing it to my jaw. His fingertips cold from the weather, but slickly warm in their own way, as if they were dancing over my skin while remaining stationary. This close, I could see every detail of his features, the way both his eyes were hooded and covered by double eyelids but still somehow shined brighter than any star I’d ever seen. The way his shoulders seemed broader up close, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped. The way his nose had a slight bump in the bridge, his lips shining when his tongue dipped out to moisten them. I felt as though I would explode if he didn’t kiss me, and so I leant in a fragment, and waited for him to pull me the rest of the way.
Our noses touched first, his head tilting so he could consume my lips with his kiss. I not only felt it on my mouth, but on my whole body. In my thighs, in my fingertips, in the depths of my heat. My hands reached out and clasped a hold of his waist to steady myself, while Mark moved his face with his grip on my jaw. His kiss was sickeningly sweet, the tastes of Ribena and what seemed to be watermelon dancing around his mouth and subsequently mine as he dipped his tongue inward. The muscle tenderly brushing over mine, as Mark brought his other hand up to the opposite side of my face, fingertips spreading out against the flushed skin. It was when his left hand came up to hold my face that his right hand disappeared from it, the weight of his touch removing itself. Though by then, I was so entirely entranced in his kiss that all my senses had rushed to where he touched and seemingly nowhere else.
His fingers reappeared lower, skimming across the tender flesh of my outer thigh, his digits running upward. The cool air of the London street grew to feel like a sauna, my body pressed into Mark as his touch on my thigh grew to be too much. My chest bucked up into his, the tense muscles beneath his jumper flush against my breasts. All the while, his left hand continued to soothe my cheek as though he were telling me to stay calm. I couldn’t stay calm when his fingers were almost touching my underwear, my skirt riled up in the street as I kissed the most beautiful man. As my chest rose up and down violently, I felt something cold press to my ass. At first I considered it could have been merely his fingers, but it was painfully obvious after a moment that they were his keys. He had them gripped so the tip of one was pressed to my flesh, and suddenly, he was pushing down. My mouth opened against Mark, his lips pulled into a smirk that I could feel upon my chin. As a moan fluttered from my mouth, Mark continued dotting kisses over the skin of pink cheeks and a low jaw, while slowly, he pushed his keys deeper into my skin.
I felt the skin tear as the metal broke it, my flesh burning as Mark placed his mouth over mine once more. Swallowing the pathetic mewl that trailed up my throat and down his. I could still feel his smile on me, caused by the relief he was also feeling at the rush of pain I was experiencing. As I breathed deeply, Mark removed his hand from my cheek and placed it on my hip. Moving my waist into the pressure he applied over the skin on my ass, and then back into his own hips. He repeated the actions numerous times, amid his lips smothering mine, the wet flesh of his mouth like the most intoxicating of alcohols. The pain began to throb and the mix of warmth I felt from his lips on me, and our noses brushing one another made a beating begin in my loin. Moving downward until I could feel it throb in my core, moans harbouring in my throat as Mark slid the key across my skin once more. This was what I had done to myself, only now, I received warmth and comfort from it too. I felt a rush of affection stir with the pain until it concocted a mellow of euphoria, the tension in my stomach unravelling all at once.
After Mark made his fifth cut with the key, he removed it from my skin. Lips pulling back from my mouth as well, leaving me desperately untouched. He pulled my skirt back into place, both hands moving back up to my cheeks. I could feel drops of blood dashing down the backs of my thighs, staining the yellow socks that clad my legs. The sensation made me smile, watching as Mark mirrored my expression. His mouth pressing to mine one more time, a brief, genial peck that made butterflies float to my stomach. I giggled as Mark released my cheeks and pulled back from me entirely.
‘I’ll see you on Monday.’ He whispered as he had a few minutes ago only this time, it felt completely different, definite, threatening almost. His words only widened my grin as I watched him wander from my street and disappear around the corner, leaving me alone with all the sensations I had just experienced. All the things I was now assuming. That even if he didn’t know it, Mark happened to be just like me and somehow simultaneously the opposite. A sadist.