The chains of obsession, p.32
The Chains of Obsession, page 32
She could smell whisky on him. She remembered him like this once before. He was only seventeen and he was trying to speak like a poet then. 'How much have you been drinking, Oliver? You sound a bit tiddly to me!' She sat him down on the edge of the settee, then sat herself in the armchair opposite. The coffee table between them. 'I'll pour shall I?' She needed him to speak more because the sight of him sat there in the shadows looked very sinister. It could even be someone else under that hood. 'Do you take sugar, I forget?'
'Yes please, one!'
It really was only Oliver under there. 'I think it would be better if you took that off, Oliver, I'm sure everything will be all right. It won't change the way I feel!' She couldn't tell him that he looked quite frightening like that and she'd sooner him not be wearing it. She poured the coffee.
'If I take it off you promise you won't make some excuse and hurry away!'
'Of course I won't do that Oliver. I'm going to stay till about five. There'll be plenty of time to get used to each other. And then everything will be just marvellous for you. And soon you'll be able to go out again and be part of the world.'
'I've dreamed of being able to be with you like this, Annie. With you helping me. In the dream you didn't mind my face at all when you saw me . . .'
'Well of course I won't mind, darling, take it off!'
The music stopped, then self started again. Oliver wanted this music to engulf them. 'I'll let you take it off Annie! I want to see you close up when you look at me. And if you kiss me when you see me then I know you accept me as I am, and everything will be just as I hoped it would!'
Annie went across to him and sat sideways on the settee so that she could take the hood off. She wasn't absorbing the music as Oliver was. She didn't realise that the music was building and adding significance and moment to her action in Oliver's mind. Whereas Annie was slightly apprehensive, yet determined to show no revulsion of any kind, Oliver was ready to burst inside with tearful emotion and great sorrow for himself, but equally determined to hold it back. To him, the music and the moment were everything. To Annie, it was neither here nor there in relation to what she was doing. Had she been sat back and relaxed, however, as often she had at home, she would have been moved emotionally by the sweet nostalgia and sadness in the music.
Annie lifted up the hood and looked at Oliver for the first time. Everyone had told her he wasn't so bad. People who had suffered burns were worse. The poor light, however, was not very flattering, because what light there was, came from a low angle from the side of the curtain where one of the high backed chairs had snagged it. She noticed immediately that his left eye wasn't straight. All in all, this wasn't Oliver as she remembered him. He was positively gruesome. Because she was so struck by his face being much worse than she imagined, she was determined more so to show that it didn't affect her. She couldn't risk undermining his confidence at this critical stage, and she tilted her head, but with eyes closed, and kissed him as he had asked.
Oliver was lifted high with the emotion that flooded into him at the combination of music and the gentleness in her kiss. He slowly lifted his arms and enclosed her, melting into her soft lips, holding her long and still in the embrace. This was the most loving kiss ever that he'd received from Annie. As the kiss continued, Annie began to go tense, but hung on for as long as she could, not wanting to show she was eager to draw away from him. She would bear it just a few seconds longer, then when Oliver came up for air, she could diplomatically disengage herself. It would have been a little more endurable if she couldn't taste the sting of whisky. Suddenly she felt that they were slowly falling sideways along the settee. She tried to brace herself, but embarrassingly she found that she had fallen all the way flat, still in Oliver's embrace, yet the more tightly gripped.
Annie pulled her head back.
'That's enough now, Oliver. Let me up!'
Oliver, carried forward by whisky and feeling, tried to bring her head back into the kiss.
'Oliver, please, don't be silly! Let me up before this goes too far!' She had both her hands against his chest pushing him away from her into the back of the settee.
'You can't stand me can you?' he said, with anguish. 'You can't stand being close to me. No woman can!'
Annie struggled but she could do no more than continue pushing at his chest. 'It's not that way at all, Oliver. But you're going too far! Let me go, let me go!'
'You're going to run away from me, you hate me!' He gripped her all the more tightly. It hurt.
'Oliver I'm not running away, I don't hate you . . .'
'Kiss me then! Kiss me like you mean it . . . I can tell you're not wanting me, I need you to want me!'
Annie was frightened now. She could tell that she had no power against him. If she didn't play this right something awful was going to happen. Oliver wasn't the lad she knew anymore. He was dangerous.
'All right, all right, Oliver . . .'
'Call me sweetheart!' He shook her roughly. 'And kiss me!'
She began to shake. 'All right, sweetheart, but please don't grip me so hard!' She closed her eyes and let her head relax so that he could kiss her again. As he melted into her lips again he swung her body, so that she rolled over him and into the back of the settee, with him now on the outside. The breath was knocked momentarily from her lungs into his mouth as her back thumped against the upholstery.
She could not remove herself from his kiss now, because her head was pinned between seat and back. Oliver wasn't doing anything other than holding her body firmly up against his, moving his hands at her waist a little, but mainly he wanted to lose himself entirely in the kiss. But it was kissing without end. It had already gone on to be more than just a kiss looking for welcome and assurance. This was a lover's kiss, growing in passion and searching for more than warmth and friendship. But Oliver's lips were hard skinned and uncomfortable on the mouth. Suddenly she wanted to be sick. She had to get out of his grip and away from this house. She began to squeeze her own lips tight and roll her head from side to side. Suddenly his hand gripped her jaw and his fingers savagely squeezed her cheeks so that her mouth came open and his tongue went in. He pulled her so that she was laid on both her arms. She couldn't move and she began to panic. No one had ever treated her like this before. Bert had always acted the chauvinist, but he was a gentle man.
Oliver lifted his head free of her. 'Don't fight me Annie. I'm only trying to love you. Surely you know what you mean to me. And you love me too, don't you? You just won't let yourself show it!' He squeezed her lovingly but powerfully in another embrace and went back to kissing her. He wasn't going to hurt her, he said to himself. I only want her if she lovingly gives it! I won't force myself on her. She loves me and she'll give herself to me given time. And he continued to roll and sway and hug her body against his, never letting her lips get away from his. His hands smoothed and caressed her only where it was decent. He never once tried to lift her clothes or open up her breasts, as he so easily could.
It wasn't long before Annie realised the more she fought against him, the more passionate he became. She decided, therefore to take a considerable risk and relax to the point of letting him to the brink, so to speak, just to see if he'd calm down to a more thinking level, and stop what he was doing. Should he try to overstep the mark, she would scream and kick and fight like hell, though more than likely lose.
As Oliver added sudden extra strength to his grip around her waist, to arch her body more intimately into his own at the pelvis, he felt the limpness come into her. He knew then she was willing to give herself to him. He had persevered and won, and she had given in to be loved. He could lift her clothes gently now and she wouldn't struggle, always the way he had wanted her to first come to him. The passion and the sweating hunger for each other could come later. All she needed now was to be opened tenderly and given a gentle bit of fucking, not hard and greedy, just slowly and tenderly in and out to make her grow hot and warm inside. Let her build and come in her own time. Not rushing, thinking of oneself. Her climax was the most important if he was to be her lover time and time again. But of course, it would have to be all in secret. He mustn't hurt his best and only real friend Bert. He must be kind, and generous, and not too demanding. He would be the perfect lover. Loving, and loved.
He pulled her body further up the settee for comfort, and it came easy with him, he released her mouth, then kissed it gently again. It was there for him with out a murmur. Lips soft. Yielding. He kissed them and released them, then again and again. A dozen soft little kisses, and each time her soft mouth received them, like a beautiful, becalmed lover, waiting for her sweet desert. He reached down and with his hand to the back of her thigh, lifted it forward so that her leg rested over him at his hip. And it stayed there waiting for his hand to reach under her and stroke her, to bring her slippery and ready for easy penetration. But Oliver left her warm thigh just resting there, and she was content to wait. He put his hand to the softness of her waist again, still hungrily eating up her sweet, loose, uncomplaining lips.
He stopped and looked at her face with her closed eyes in serene composure.
'Annie, my darling. Let's not rush things, eh? We have a whole lifetime and we shouldn't grab at things in such unromantic discomfort. You can get away from home one night and we'll spend it together in a nice bed here, and I'll have it all perfumed up and made a fit place for lovers to come together for the first time!'
Annie could hardly believe that Oliver was saying this, but she entered the charade instantly, and didn't even move her leg from the intimate position in which he'd placed it. She kept herself as loose and supple as she could allow, determined now that she could get through with her chosen course of action. She was really quite terrified and felt she would scream her way all the way home the minute she set foot outside Oliver's house.
'Yes, darling, I think you're right. Let's save ourselves for the perfect moment!'
Oliver hugged her in answer. 'Yes, yes, darling we will. I want it to be so special for both of us. Just like being on our honeymoon, so that we can feel it's the first time for both of us. No Sylvia, no Bert, no Jane, none of them ever existed!'
She wondered where Jane came into this equation but couldn't let her mind dwell on it. 'Yes my love, it will be as the first time for both of us. I really want it that way, I really do!' God, what was she saying? Was she as potty as him? She let herself go limp again as she felt him lift her yet again to caress and kiss her. He was getting more and more distasteful. Oh no, she thought. She wasn't going to let him go this far. His hand went quietly up her skirt and rested straight on her. The greatest struggle was going on in her, yet she was having to keep herself limp and compliant, and talk at the same time. She didn't move her leg. She didn't tense her body. She simply used her brain and talked to him, even as his hand just casually caressed and massaged her vagina, on top of her knickers, thank God!
'We must make it soon, Oliver. Why don't I come back later, in the early hours of the morning? About one o’clock! I could sneak out while the girls are asleep. You know Bert sleeps in his own room downstairs now. He won't miss me at all . . .'
'Oh fantastic Annie!' He was so excited she was sure he didn't know he was squeezing at her vagina like some child playing absentmindedly with it's own private parts. 'I'll spend the rest of the day making things ready. I'll move the record player into the bedroom and we'll have all our music.'
'Yes, yes Oliver, and I'll bring some more records with me. Shall we go now sweetheart so we can sort all these things out? I've got lots more records in other places. I must go through them and pick out all the ones I know you'll like.' It was a great relief when he said, yes, and that here was his last goodnight kiss. She had to suffer one last embarrassing five minutes vaginal massage, while his mouth sucked at hers and then it was over. There was a quick return to coolness as the heat of his hand was withdrawn from her.
Annie drove home hysterical. She could hardly believe she had got away from that house, from that grotesque stranger who almost but raped her. It was almost impossible to grasp that she had lain there, held her own leg up, and actually let him for a whole twenty minutes play with her crotch. How could she have let it happen? She never complained or tried to move his hand or even close her legs. She simply talked a conversation with him for twenty crazy minutes and let that scabby hand rub and stroke her as if it was a no more intimate place than the back of her hand. Oh my God, what was she going to tell Bert? She pulled the car over and stopped, her legs trembling. The shock was coming out of her. Resting her head on the steering wheel, Annie had a good sob.
Jane's car pulled into the drive. When they saw Annie's car there at six-thirty, she and Sylvia were surprised. Sylvia got out of the car first, and walked towards Annie who was still sat in her car, head resting back, with the side window open for air. She looked obviously distraught. Sylvia said: 'What is it Annie? What on earth's the matter?' They all three went into the house.
When Annie had finished telling them everything, between tears and sips of coffee, Sylvia said they should go to the police. 'He obviously needs psychiatric help and this is one way to see that he gets it!' Sylvia was really angry and stamped around the living room carpet. Jane sat on the settee with her arms around Annie, pressing brow to brow, saying little words of comfort to her. After a few minutes, she pulled Annie's head to her breast, where Annie was quite content to stay.
'No, I don't think Annie should go to the police!' Jane said. She was worried about the outcome. Whether lots more would come out and she would be involved. 'We need to think this out. Who will get hurt besides Oliver. We know he deserves the worst, that's not in doubt. But what about you Annie? What will it do to you and Bert? Is it fair on Bert to tell him what's happened when you know if he was an able bodied man he would want to go and give Oliver a beating? What would it do to Bert psychologically to feel helpless to defend you? How you going to explain that you let Oliver do those things to you and made such promises to him?'
Annie lifted her head to gaze up at Jane. Her eyes were red rimmed and sore. 'But he made me Jane. He held me down and frightened me and I had to let him . . .'
Jane pulled her back again into the comfort of her arms and rocked her. 'Yes I know love! I know you did! I feel as mad wicked as Sylvia at what he's done. But I do know he's one sick individual. I think Sylvia and myself should go over there and tell him that you've come to us and really lay into him.'
Jane squeezed Annie, and Sylvia saw nothing wrong. She didn't perceive that Annie was almost welcoming the circumstances that had brought Jane this close to her. As though she had at long last got the attention of someone she had long wanted to be noticed by. It was fortunate for Jane that these feelings existed in Annie, because Annie was ready to listen and take notice of whatever Jane advised. Jane was racing her brain to try and work out the best way to steer things. 'How do you think Bert will take it Annie? His best friend!'
Annie shook her head, almost despairing. 'I just don't know Jane. I really don't know. That's why I came here to you and Sylvia. I'm in such turmoil as to what to do or say. If I don't tell him, I'm still confused about how to lie about it. I just can't think how to explain now why I'll be so late back, and as to how things went between Oliver and me. Bert goes to see him regular. What can I tell him? If I say I don't want to see Oliver ever again, he's going to want to know why. And if I pretend everything's okay, he'll be expecting me to go often to see him, or that Oliver will be coming to see us! I mean, really, the truth seems the only sensible way!'
Jane looked into Annie's eyes. 'Well let me ask you this. Do you think Oliver is evil or sick? Was he looking for love, or was he looking for sex? Why did he let you go? Why didn't he have sex with you when it would have been so easy for him? Do you think ----'
'I think he's sick, Jane! When I think in terms of the questions you're putting to me, I think he's sick!'
Jane turned to Sylvia. 'What do you think, sweetheart?'
Sylvia nodded. 'I think the same!'
'So then . . . what do we do with sick people if we're compassionate . . . we try and help them!' She rested back in the settee with Annie cuddled close. 'Better go make us all another coffee, sweetheart, and we'll sort out what's best to do! First thing though, we must phone Bert and tell him Annie's here, so that he won't be worrying if she's had an accident and phones Oliver. That's if he hasn't already. It's seven o’clock. You're two hours late Annie, if you told him you'd be home for five. Phone him now, right away!'
'But what can I say Jane?'
'Tell him you met me over there and I insisted you come with me to see a new collection we'd acquired. Say we were going to phone from the shop, but we got held up in traffic and we were having to rush and forgot. So we came home here to look at some of the latest fashion house catalogues and you're phoning him now. And is it okay if you stay for awhile because there's a few people here and it's an interesting night out!'
Annie smiled, almost broke into a laugh. 'If I didn't feel so awful I'd be laughing now. You're so quick at coming up with incredibly believable whoppers!' She phoned Bert and it was all right.
Sylvia returned with something light to eat and they all sat round the coffee table and ate. Afterwards they put the telly on low for background, and Jane sat with Annie on the settee, while Sylvia sat opposite, leaning forward in the armchair. 'The thing is,' Jane was saying. 'Sylvia and I run a pretty good business in women’s fashion and accessories. But, unfortunately for us, Oliver owns it all. If for instance we put him in jail, the press would give our business bad publicity. Not only that, if Oliver sees we're against him, he could sell everything from under us. Now because of what he's done to Annie, and from what I’ve learned about how he treated Sylvia, I think I don't like him anymore and would like to have no more to do with him, regardless of the fact he's in such a sorry state. But like everybody else here, I've got to do some pretending!'
