What We Say In The Dark Ch 07

[Author's note: Cassie's husband is cheating on her with a younger woman, Lily. Instead of confronting him, Cassie has been blackmailed by his lover into doing what she she's told. Cassie's world is changing, and she finds herself being drawn into a new life of control and submission. Will she take charge, or will she become someone else's powerless toy?]

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MIDNIGHT AT THE LOST AND FOUND

Billie had been insistent about the girls' night out. She'd even gone as far as ringing up Cassie's mother to arrange for her to take the kids overnight on Cassie's behalf. Damian was out of town on a conference on Thursday night. What better time?

Cassie checked herself again in the mirror, fussing with her hair. She tugged the hem of her little black cocktail dress and stepped into her black leather high heels. Cassie did a turn in the mirror, assessing herself from several angles. She liked what she saw, noticing the subtle changes to her figure that Aidan's body sculpting programme was helping her to achieve: more definition around the shoulders and upper arms, less saggy around the waist, legs more toned and shapely. Even her tormentor had made a back-handed comment about her looking better.

At the thought of Lily, Cassie froze, a sudden unreasonable dread consuming her. The house was silent; her sons were with their grandmother, her husband was away on business, leaving only her in the house, alone. The pressure seemed to squeeze her ribcage. Lily shouldn't have done that to her, made her feel so small and worthless. But more than that, Cassie shouldn't have just let her. She was a grown woman; she should have stood up for herself. The fact that she'd been too afraid to oppose Lily just added to her wretched feelings of cowardice and humiliation.

Cassie looked in the mirror again, but this time she saw a pathetic figure trying too hard to show herself off when she went out tonight on the town. No-one would care. No-one would look at her twice. Suddenly, Cassie was seized by the urge to call it all off.

The cab honked its horn outside. Her friends were waiting.

Cassie scooped up her handbag and descended the stairs, moving quickly to outpace some monstrous thing lurking unseen in the master bedroom.

---

In the bar, in the middle of the city, Cassie sipped a glass of bubbles. Billie was well and truly on the other side of a bottle of champagne all on her own. Morgan was laughing and smiling but keeping a watchful eye on her wife.

"Dance," Billie demanded. "You or you. Or both, but let's go."

Morgan smiled. "I'll stay here, in case someone spikes our drinks."

"Ha. Let them try. Anyone tries that shit on me, they'll find themselves with a proper handful, in more than one sense of the word."

Billie grinned, lopsidedly, before wheeling around to face the dancefloor.

Morgan rolled her eyes at Cassie.

"She's your wife," Cassie said.

"She's your creation," Morgan rejoined.

Billie turned back around, throwing her shoulders back to make her breasts stand out in her satin dress.

"Actually, Doctor Fox did that. Look at 'em and weep girls. I am fucking fabulous!"

Billie slung her arm around her wife, pulling her close.

"I didn't pay a babysitter so you could perch on that stool all night," she intoned with mock solemnity, "Get that hot backside up and follow me."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and headed towards the dancefloor, with Morgan and Cassie reluctantly in tow. Billie slid between the twenty-somethings on the dancefloor, clearing a space for all three of them to dance. After a few minutes, she wiggled over to Cassie and wrapped her arms around Cassie's neck. Her mouth brushed Cassie's ear.

"See, I told you. You needed this."

"What? Being gawped at by guys ten years younger than me?"

"Oh yeah, baby. Gawped is how it starts. Up to you how it ends."

Billie pulled away, gyrating to the music, her eyes locked on Cassie, a playful smirk on her face. She mouthed the word 'hot' and then turned her attention to Morgan. Behind Morgan, a pair of men were watching the three of them, probably trying to work out how to insert themselves into the circle of friends. Cassie displayed bland indifference as one of them looked her way. All she wanted to do was finish the dance and get back to the table. Billie had bigger plans.

In the end, they danced until their feet were sore, toes aching in the tips of their shoes as they tottered on their high heels like teenagers. Morgan, far from being the calming influence, began to build up a momentum of her own, until they were both gyrating in unison to the beat, surrounded by half a dozen younger men.

One of them bent to Billie's ear and spoke a few words. Billie laughed and held up a finger. The man smiled and began to move forward, but at the last minute Billie dodged around him into Morgan's arms. She held the other woman tight and then they kissed. Billie held up the finger again, and this time Cassie could see why: the wedding ring glinted in the light. Her would-be suitor laughed, mouthing 'too much' and walked away.

Morgan led Billie back to the tables, leaving Cassie to follow.

"Too subtle?" Billie asked.

"Like a brick," Morgan replied.

"You didn't complain."

"About what? The public display of affection on the dancefloor, or the way you were leading those guys on?"

Billie encircled Morgan with both arms. Cassie suddenly felt superfluous.

"I'm about to disgrace myself, babe."

"Billie, you already did."

"Oh, not yet," Billie replied, kissing her lightly. "Take me home."

Morgan disentangled herself and gathered up their coats. They wandered towards the door together with Cassie trailing behind. Out on the street, Morgan shrugged into her jacket and turned to Cassie.

"You coming?" she asked as Billie balanced on the curb in her high heels, waving down a cab.

"You go ahead," Cassie replied.

"There's plenty of room, Cassie."

Cassie gave Morgan a smile. "No, there isn't. Have fun. I'll get the next one."

"Hot stuff! Come on," Billie called out, her hand on the cab door.

Morgan shrugged. "Okay, be safe. Have fun."

Cassie almost protested Morgan's inference but Billie opened the door and then they both slid into the back of the cab. A moment later, Cassie was alone. She looked up and down the street, on her own in the dark in front of the bar. Eventually, she made a decision and took out her phone, bringing up a map to search for a location. She didn't want to go home yet, to that empty house. There was somewhere else she wanted to go.

"Hey, sorry, I don't mean to freak you out, but...."

Cassie looked up from her phone to see one of the men they had been dancing with. He was younger than her by a few years, maybe late twenties, with jet black hair pulled back into a tight bun. Cassie didn't normally go for that look, but he pulled it off. He smiled.

Cassie frowned. "Sorry, what?"

"I just wanted to say that I hope you had a good night."

She could tell that he was sober, reserved. He'd been in the background while his friends had been trying to dance with Billie. Cassie watched his expression turn towards embarrassment.

"I did, yes, thanks."

He nodded. She was scrambling to remember his name. He'd told her, trying to make himself heard over the music. Ronan? Robin?

"I had a good night too. The guys can get pretty wild, but, well, sometimes it's worth it."

"Worth what?"

"Um, getting out and meeting people. Beats the alternative."

Cassie watched the way his mouth moved as he spoke. He was earnest, even shy. His body language revealed how difficult it was for him to be standing on the street, talking to her. Up to you how it ends, Billie had said. She held up her left hand.

"I'm married," she said.

"I know. But you were still dancing."

There was a slight smile on his lips, as if he knew a secret about her, like they were playing a game, and for a moment Cassie found herself thinking about it. Why shouldn't she? Lily would be curled up next to Damian wherever they were. It gave Cassie permission: the goose and the gander.

"I've got to go," Cassie said.

She raised her arm to hail a cab.

"Thanks for the offer though."

---

Cassie emerged from the cab onto a section of street she was unfamiliar with. To her left, the high-rise offices of the city centre stood like gleaming pillars against the darkness, a handful of blocks away. Here, though, the buildings were not as high, older, a little more lived in. Pressed between the large plate glass windows of a fashion store on one side and an all-night convenience shop on the other was a large double-door set into the sandstone brickwork, lit from within by a neon sign.

Cassie sucked in a breath and smoothed down her little black dress. She could see her reflection in the large windows of the shop: a petite blonde woman in her mid-thirties, wrapped in a cocktail dress, sporting black leather heels. Her legs were bare, shapely, the black dress flattering her curves without overstatement. Good enough. She gripped her matching black handbag with her left hand, steeling herself, and noticed the wedding ring on her finger.

Cassie looked at it, feeling sudden doubt. Eventually, she came to a decision, tugging at the ring and pulling it off her finger: minimise the information. She slipped the ring into her handbag and straightened up, heading through the doors and into the club.

In the foyer area, there was a large man in a black suit, talking to a much shorter woman dressed in a dark top and tight-fitting pants. They glanced at her but didn't say anything; the woman indicated the booth in the far wall and went back to her conversation. The bass thud of music dominated the background.

Cassie straightened up, went over to the booth and paid the cover charge. The woman behind the booth smiled politely, making Cassie feel strangely uncomfortable: she realised it had been a long time since she'd been in a club on her own. In her twenties, she'd been brave enough, but now, a decade later, a marriage and twins later, this all felt alien to her. She stepped through a second set of doors into the club itself.

The noise hit her like a wall: the close atmosphere of recycled air, the music: strange and at the same time, familiar. Cassie threaded her way through the bodies, feeling out of place. For a Thursday night, the place was doing well: not packed with people, but enough to have a buzz. She watched them gyrating to the music, suddenly aware that she was probably the oldest person in the room. Cassie clutched her handbag tightly against her and worked her way to the back wall.

Cassie saw three people standing at a doorway cordoned off with a velvet rope. Behind it stood a huge man with dark skin and an intricate, swirling tattoo curving from behind his left eye down to his chin. Cassie found herself standing in front of him, looking up as he towered over her. He was in conversation, politely but firmly fending off requests by the three young men to be allowed into the restricted area. Cassie stood off to one side, heels together and her hands folded in front of her, as one of them broke off the discussion to cast his eyes over her body. All at once, Cassie felt shy and out of place as she was eyed up in her little black dress by the much younger man. She concentrated on the doorman instead.

Eventually the three of them left, defeated. The doorman's huge fingers remained threaded together in front of him as he watched them leave, then he turned to Cassie.

"Ma'am," he said and unhooked the rope to admit her.

Shocked, Cassie hesitated for a moment before stepping through.

"Aren't you going to ask me anything?"

He smiled, and the stolid face lit up.

"Oh no. I'm sure that you know what you're doing," he said, "Welcome to the Lost and Found."

Cassie turned to the door and he reached out, one massive hand closing around the handle, pulling it open for her. She stepped through.

The door closed behind her and she found herself in a smaller space where the music was more muted. In contrast to the sea of humanity on the other side of the door, the crowd here was quieter, older. She cast around the room, taking it all in.

There was a bar set against the back wall with a large door into a private area on the lefthand side of the bar. Against the wall to her right was a raised stage and a DJ booth, but tonight these were empty: a laptop screen shone on the table next to the sound equipment, rolling out a playlist. In front of the stage were a set of cocktail tables with high stools, some of them occupied but mostly vacant, and then, set against the two remaining walls, were a set of booths in black vinyl lit by discreet downlights, again sparsely-occupied. It all looked quite nicely done, as far as club décor went: understated, elegant, private.

She noticed the people, though.

The stools at the bar were vacant, but she could see figures in the booths, in twos and threes, talking. Beneath the muted lighting, it was difficult to make out details but she noticed the occasional glint of something metallic and shiny as the people moved. A couple sat on the stools at one of the cocktail tables in the middle of the floor, the woman facing away from her with auburn hair platted into a long train reaching down her back. She was wearing a leather bodice, perched cross-legged on the stool displaying her trim, rounded bottom in a tight black hobble skirt that hugged her legs and covered her right down to her ankles. Her companion was older, dressed in a tailored leather jacket with an open collar shirt. He was nursing a beer and talking in low, intimate tones.

Cassie began to cross the floor to the bar, her eyes darting sideways to take in the people in the nearest booth: two men and a woman, but as the woman leaned back from the table to reach for her bag, Cassie could see that she was completely topless. She picked up her phone and resumed conversation with her companions, as if being semi-clothed was her usual mode of dress. Cassie's gait stuttered as she began to contemplate turning around and heading for the door. That would achieve nothing, though.

Cassie approached the bar, sliding onto one of the stools, feeling safer somehow as she nodded at the barman. Just a drink, like she was anywhere; one drink and then leave. The barman approached her, a young man in his twenties with a good smile and dark, shoulder-length hair. He was wearing a dark t-shirt, exposing thin, wiry arms laced with tattoos.

"Hi," was all he said.

"Can I get a gin and tonic, please?"

"Sure."

Cassie chastised herself: gin and tonic was not what she wanted, but in the moment, it was all her brain could manage. She watched the barman as he prepared her drink and then slowly took in the rest of the room again, feeling conspicuously out of place.

"Here you go. Starting a tab?"

Cassie shook her head and paid. Just the one.

She sipped her drink slowly, beginning to question why she had talked herself into this. It had taken a feat of logistics to organise, with Damian being away. Her mother had needed to be convinced to look after the twins on a school night, then she'd had to get her hair done to try and break out of the baggy housewife look, then the cab fares, paid for in cash to leave no trace on the credit card account. Damian did this on a regular basis, she thought with a pang of sorrow, only this time it was Cassie slinking off to... what? To look for love? A clandestine rendezvous?

Cassie grimaced at the thought, feeling the now-familiar tug of worthlessness, Lily's face mouthing the words. She didn't even have the guts to take that young man at the bar up on his offer of a quick fuck, let alone launching a full-blown affair, even while she knew, she was absolutely certain, that her husband was at this exact same moment buried inside his lover's body in a hotel room somewhere. Cassie pictured him on top of Lily, the wild lust in his eyes as he slid into her, Lily's mouth open as she gasped to feel herself being filled by a man who belonged to someone else.

"Hey," said a woman's voice.

Cassie blinked, roused from her reverie, and turned to see a beautiful, petite woman with coffee-coloured skin and dark eyes standing next to her clutching a glass of white wine. Like Cassie, she was wearing a black dress that came down to mid-thigh, her slim frame topping four-inch black leather heels. She smiled at Cassie.

"I see you got the memo on the dress code," she said, and laughed; a light, easy sound. "Mind if I sit?"

Cassie hesitated for a fraction of a second, though the woman seemed friendly enough.

"No, not at all."

"Thanks. These heels are killing me."

The woman slid onto the bar stool, crossing her shapely legs and wiggling her bottom to settle the fabric of the dress over her toned thighs. She turned to Cassie.

"I'm Eve."

"Cassidy. Cassie."

"First time?"

Cassie nodded, relaxing slightly.

"Yup."

Eve leaned toward her, conspiratorially.

"Bit of a tip in that case. Sitting at the bar means you want conversation. Sitting in a booth means you want privacy. No-one's gonna bug you in here unless you want to be bugged."

Eve nodded over to the entrance.

"Tony keeps the genpop out," she said.

"You sound like you know what you're doing."

Eve laughed softly, and replied, "Oh girl, I have no idea what I'm doing."

Cassie found herself warming to her new companion, watching the way her elegant fingers cupped the bowl of her wine glass, taking a small sip before glancing back towards Cassie nonchalantly.

"So, what brings you here?" she asked.

Cassie stalled. It was a good question, with only one answer.

"Uh, I... I really don't know."

Eve shrugged. "How'd you hear about the Lost and Found?"

"Just someone I met. She mentioned this place."

Eve's demeanour changed subtly and she carefully placed her glass on the bar top.

"Well Cassidy, seems she piqued your interest. I guess you're curious?"

Cassie began to answer, but Eve had turned away, raising a finger to get the barman's attention. Cassie frowned, noting that Eve's glass was still half full. The other woman made a gesture, pointing up towards the ceiling. The barman nodded. Eve turned her attention back to Cassie, smiling.

"Ask me anything you like," she said.

Cassie took a deep breath, unsure now whether her companion was just being helpful or she was being hit on. The idea of being picked up by a beautiful woman in a club in the middle of the city on a Thursday night unnerved her. She began to wish she still had her wedding ring on.

Cassie listened as Eve began to explain, laying down the context of the club and its patrons, the rules about don't ask don't tell, the idea of confidentiality. Eve made a point of stressing that some of the people around them had big jobs, families, children.

"It doesn't cost you any money to get into the Lost and Found," she concluded, "But there is a price of admission, and it's a high one. People's lives could be wrecked if others knew something as trivial as the fact they were seen here. Careers, family. Confidentiality is the price."

Eve paused, then indicated the door. "There's them," she said, "And there's us. You get it?"

Silently, Cassie nodded. Eve raised her glass and chinked it against Cassie's.

"Welcome. One less of them. One more of us," she said and turned. "Hello."

Cassie followed her gaze, turning to see a tall, dignified woman in an elegant blouse of dark blue silk had appeared behind her. Her hair was long and white, caught up neatly in a ponytail, clear of an older, strikingly beautiful face. Pale blue eyes flicked from Eve to Cassie. Her perfectly made-up lips curled into a smile.

"Hello Eve."

Eve shifted in her seat and Cassie realised that her previously loquacious companion was now a little uncomfortable in the presence of this impressive newcomer. She cleared her throat.