reminded me of you. I know how you still love Alice Cooper, even if you tried to pretend not to … He spelled it differently. American. A-L-Y-S-S. ButI called him Alice. We had some amazing sessions together. So intense. Perfect, you know …’
She was getting that far-away look in her eyes again. Sub-space, I had heard it called in the club, when people went into a trance while they were really being flogged or tied up. Liana hadn’t had a tendency to space out before. I wondered if unleashing her submissive side had made her more dreamy in general.
‘But Alyss moved away,’ she continued. ‘Back to America. He was only in the UK for a few weeks on holiday. These sorts of relationships get so intense so quickly. Because of the level of trust and the communication involved. It’s like you have a bond that no one else can really understand or appreciate. Like you’re alone together on your own island.’
Again I thought of Leonard, and how the privacy that we both imposed on our relationship because of the age difference made us closer. Because we were sharing a secret.
‘Makes sense.’ I nodded.
‘Alyss encouraged me to move on. Find a new play partner. And I did. And I was trying to get over him so I jumped into it a bit quicker than I should have. Played hard. Pretended I could handle things that I couldn’t really. I wanted to be the tough girl, the strong one. To be invincible. So I couldn’t be hurt again. And I met the guy I’m seeing now who likes to play hard but sometimes too hard. And he won’t stop. And now he wants to control everything, and I don’t like it, but I can’t seem to get out of it, and I don’t know what to do.’
‘Oh, honey,’ I said, jumping up and putting my arm around her as tears began to leak down her face and shebriskly brushed them away. ‘You’ve always been strong. You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone.’
She buried her head in my shoulder and sobbed.
In contrast, the story of my encounter with Leonard and its commonplace outcome paled. I had meant to tell Liana everything, but in the end I just said I’d broken up with someone. My misery seemed pathetic next to hers.
We spent most of the weekend drowning our sorrows, hopping between familiar haunts from our student years and window shopping, sneering at clothes we could neither afford nor would ever wear, and the women crowding the Brighton streets who could. Not that our superiority over them was any consolation to our rumpled distress.
On a drunken impulse, shortly before I was due to catch my mid-afternoon train back to London on Sunday, we agreed to cut each other’s hair. I trimmed Liana’s to pageboy effect and she savaged mine until I had a boyish bob that barely reached my shoulders. Gazing at myself in the spotty mirror of her bathroom afterwards I barely recognised myself.
‘Not too short?’ Liana asked me.
‘It’ll grow back,’ I said. ‘You?’
She brushed her hands through her scalp.
‘Either he’ll kill me or he’ll find a way to punish me for doing it,’ she said. ‘He always says he loves my long hair and I’m not to touch it.’
Her face had gone deathly pale.
‘You should have told me.’
‘It’s OK,’ she said, shrugging. ‘He’ll get over it.’
Back in London, Neil was similarly unsympathetic to my plight.
‘It’s a bit creepy, Lily,’ he replied, when I told him I had been involved with an older man.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. It just is.’
‘Try and explain why to me?’ I insisted.
‘He’s … old enough to be your dad. Don’t you ever look down while you’re … you know … and think … ?’ He was carefully trying to choose the right words to express his indignation.
‘No, I don’t think anything of the sort. Leonard is not my father. He’s just a man who happens to be a bit older than me.’
‘A bit older!’ he exclaimed. ‘He’s more than twice your age. And … Leonard, that’s an old man’s name.’
I laughed out
She was getting that far-away look in her eyes again. Sub-space, I had heard it called in the club, when people went into a trance while they were really being flogged or tied up. Liana hadn’t had a tendency to space out before. I wondered if unleashing her submissive side had made her more dreamy in general.
‘But Alyss moved away,’ she continued. ‘Back to America. He was only in the UK for a few weeks on holiday. These sorts of relationships get so intense so quickly. Because of the level of trust and the communication involved. It’s like you have a bond that no one else can really understand or appreciate. Like you’re alone together on your own island.’
Again I thought of Leonard, and how the privacy that we both imposed on our relationship because of the age difference made us closer. Because we were sharing a secret.
‘Makes sense.’ I nodded.
‘Alyss encouraged me to move on. Find a new play partner. And I did. And I was trying to get over him so I jumped into it a bit quicker than I should have. Played hard. Pretended I could handle things that I couldn’t really. I wanted to be the tough girl, the strong one. To be invincible. So I couldn’t be hurt again. And I met the guy I’m seeing now who likes to play hard but sometimes too hard. And he won’t stop. And now he wants to control everything, and I don’t like it, but I can’t seem to get out of it, and I don’t know what to do.’
‘Oh, honey,’ I said, jumping up and putting my arm around her as tears began to leak down her face and shebriskly brushed them away. ‘You’ve always been strong. You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone.’
She buried her head in my shoulder and sobbed.
In contrast, the story of my encounter with Leonard and its commonplace outcome paled. I had meant to tell Liana everything, but in the end I just said I’d broken up with someone. My misery seemed pathetic next to hers.
We spent most of the weekend drowning our sorrows, hopping between familiar haunts from our student years and window shopping, sneering at clothes we could neither afford nor would ever wear, and the women crowding the Brighton streets who could. Not that our superiority over them was any consolation to our rumpled distress.
On a drunken impulse, shortly before I was due to catch my mid-afternoon train back to London on Sunday, we agreed to cut each other’s hair. I trimmed Liana’s to pageboy effect and she savaged mine until I had a boyish bob that barely reached my shoulders. Gazing at myself in the spotty mirror of her bathroom afterwards I barely recognised myself.
‘Not too short?’ Liana asked me.
‘It’ll grow back,’ I said. ‘You?’
She brushed her hands through her scalp.
‘Either he’ll kill me or he’ll find a way to punish me for doing it,’ she said. ‘He always says he loves my long hair and I’m not to touch it.’
Her face had gone deathly pale.
‘You should have told me.’
‘It’s OK,’ she said, shrugging. ‘He’ll get over it.’
Back in London, Neil was similarly unsympathetic to my plight.
‘It’s a bit creepy, Lily,’ he replied, when I told him I had been involved with an older man.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. It just is.’
‘Try and explain why to me?’ I insisted.
‘He’s … old enough to be your dad. Don’t you ever look down while you’re … you know … and think … ?’ He was carefully trying to choose the right words to express his indignation.
‘No, I don’t think anything of the sort. Leonard is not my father. He’s just a man who happens to be a bit older than me.’
‘A bit older!’ he exclaimed. ‘He’s more than twice your age. And … Leonard, that’s an old man’s name.’
I laughed out
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