Subculture (23 page)

The tour operator eyed her with equal desire. Or maybe it was part of the act, to make female customers feel flattered. Lisa grimaced to herself as he grinned lewdly; in that case the man had gotten the situation horribly wrong. She only wanted to be treated as sexual when she felt sexual. For now, she wanted him to sell her a ticket that would take her away from Dr Landers for a few peaceful hours.

‘I'm looking for someplace quiet,' she said, studying the list of tours.

‘What you want,' the man said, ‘is Gozo.' He held out a leaflet. ‘It's mainly farming-based, our neighbouring island. The cost includes the ferry there and back.'

A ferry - that sounded ideal. She and Michael would be a stretch of water away from each other. What's more, she wouldn't bump into any of the other Vitality staff. ‘I'll take a ticket,' Lisa said. She knew that she was taking a ticket to a much-needed neutral decision ground. There she'd either opt to continue dating Michael or to leave. There was no compromise; she knew that now. She couldn't be his lover if she wasn't prepared to be physically chastised. The man didn't want desire without discipline; every centimetre of his sexual being was a dominant one. She'd have to agree to being punished or admit that their relationship was no more - be labelled deviant or be deserted. And if their time together was really at an end then she wanted to leave Malta on the next plane.

 

Was Lisa playing hard to get? Michael paced the path which ran through the herb garden again. It was a quarter past three, and she'd obviously been here. The cut strands of peppermint testified to that. Had she gardened until the last minute then rushed up to her room to shower? Or had an emergency patient arrived?

Remembering the way she'd pushed down upon Don Muscat's cock, Michael stared fixedly towards Vitality. He was strongly tempted to return to the Clinic to look for her now. But if he went in the front door just as she came out of the side door, they could miss each other. She might have decided to show up late so that he'd have an immediate excuse to pull down her pants.

A jarring detail sparked in his brain. Some of those mint leaves were already curling. He knelt and picked up some of the plant; the cuttings were limp, turning brown. This mint hadn't been cut a few minutes ago, but had lain without sustenance in the sun for several hours. Something was wrong, and he intended to put it right.

He took the stairs quickly to Lisa's room. He knocked sharply, though he knew deep down that she wasn't there, that something had happened. He'd seen her joy when he suggested they tour Malta together this afternoon, prayed that she hadn't taken ill since then.

Michael twisted the door handle and was gratified when it turned in his hand. Slowly the door swung open and he breathed in geranium oil's sweet scent.

A newspaper lay open on the bed at the fifth page. Michael skim read it. Then he turned to the opening of the story. His heart beat fast and hard. God, he felt such contempt for these small minded bastards. By printing a few salacious details they were ruining innocent lives.

And ruining any future he might have with Lisa? As the possibility entered his brain, Michael sat down heavily on the sunlit duvet. Had she seen this then fled back to England? Would she really leave without an explanation, without acknowledging the strength of their mutual desire? Michael envisaged Vitality without her and it made for a dull picture. He'd follow and try to bring her back. Or maybe she'd gone to Singapore, to be with Reece; that was a much more delicate situation. But if necessary he'd fly there too - she was meant to be with him.

Michael paused. Maybe she'd confided in Ria about where she was going and when she'd return? They'd seemed to be getting close this morning. He'd been surprised, for the Sexual Therapist was much more up front about her desires than the herbalist ever could be. And Ria lived for the moment, whereas Lisa liked to have some of her future clearly mapped out. Still, opposites sometimes attracted - he himself was a planner who'd been drawn to Ria's free spirit. If she'd been submissive they might have made more than a first class working team.

Desperate to find Lisa, he went to Ria's private room. A note on her door said that she was on Vitality's sun terrace. He found her there, wearing only a pair of sun glasses and an all-over tan. She was lying on her stomach, and he stared for a fascinated moment at her teasingly bare and deliciously spankable bottom. But he wasn't here to admire the perfect view. He had a mission that he desperately wanted to accomplish, wanted to draw Lisa fully into his life, his thoughts, his arms.

‘Lisa didn't keep her 3pm appointment,' he said urgently.

Ria turned onto her back and stretched her arms above her head. ‘Hey, I'm innocent. I haven't kidnapped her.'

Michael felt his jaw tighten with frustration. ‘She didn't tell you about a change of plan?'

‘I worked, had lunch sent to my room, then I came up here to sunbathe,' Ria answered. ‘You'd better ask Jamilla or Marie-Rose.' She hesitated. ‘The sunshine makes me horny as hell. Fancy a quickie?' Michael smiled wryly then shook his head. ‘You could bend me over the balcony and spank me first,' Ria continued.

Again the doctor refused. The therapist just didn't understand the dynamics of the situation. Lisa would never suggest that he spank her small bare bum. The herbalist would try to talk her way out of the punishment, and her ultimate submission would be all the sweeter. She had an exciting subtlety that the Sexual Surrogate would never have.

He left. He hurried down the stairs and spoke to Marie-Rose. She hadn't seen Lisa either. Nor had Jamilla or Carmen or the stables-based Bakar. Dania was saddling up a horse when he asked the gardening and stables boy about the herbalist.

‘I saw her some time before midday,' she volunteered. ‘She almost knocked me over she was in such a rush.'

‘Did she have a suitcase?' he asked.

‘No, just her shoulder bag,' Dania replied quietly.

‘Did she say where she was going?'

The accountant grimaced. ‘Uh uh. 'Fraid not.'

If Lisa was without a suitcase she'd presumably stayed on Malta. The doctor felt his shoulder and stomach muscles relax.

‘Was it wrong of me not to stop her?' Dania murmured. Her eyes had started to widen with hope and sexual anticipation. Michael hesitated, then he turned resolutely away. Once he'd have taken off his belt and persuaded the aroused young accountant to bend over the balcony. Now he was too wired, couldn't concentrate.

‘It was wrong, and will be marked up in the punishment book for future chastisement,' he said sternly.

‘I'll tear the page out,' Dania parried, giving him a challenging stare.

Michael smiled as he turned to leave. ‘Such resistance. I'll bear your vandalistic act in mind when I'm pulling down your pants.'

All roads lead to Rome - and most Maltese buses ended up in Malta's capital, Valletta. Michael went there before dinner, and sat on the concrete circle across from the wide bus stance. He'd brought a psychology book and a bottle of mineral water, was prepared to wait in the early evening sunshine for a considerable time. He wanted to talk to Lisa when she alighted from her coach. It was better that they had their discussion on neutral ground.

Old green buses trundled in. Others left. He smiled at the number of vehicles with the logo Bedford Dominant. He was a Maltese Dominant now, here to take this submissive back to his disciplinary lair. His gaze skimmed over young women in cut-off cotton shorts, silky dresses and tight frayed denims. There was only one figure and face that he wanted to see...

His body stilled to a single focus as Lisa alighted from the coach. He watched as she strolled around the stance, looking for the connection service. Felt relieved when she joined the queue that would take her back to Vitality. At least she wasn't planning to flee from the Clinic right this minute. That meant their relationship still had a chance. Slowly he walked forward until he reached her side, could breathe in her jasmine oil perfume. Though he longed to hold her in a tight embrace, he didn't as much as touch her arm.

‘We have to talk,' he said.

For a moment her shoulders and face stiffened, and she stepped back quickly. Then she grasped her bag more tightly, her voice a murmur. ‘Yes, I know.'

He guided her to his favourite cafe. It had high-backed chairs and a minimum of loud piped music. She ordered cappuccino. He ordered the same.

‘I know why you didn't meet me,' he said, as they waited for their beverages. ‘I saw the newspaper lying on your bed.'

‘I just...' Her breasts moved visibly under the embroidered peasant blouse and he longed to use his tongue to tease out the nipples. ‘The journalist's comments... both couple's lives were destroyed.'

Destroyed was too strong a word, implied giving up because of someone else's wrong thinking, he mused thoughtfully. But the lives they'd known before were admittedly over, and that was a terrible thing.

‘Well, their lives were thrown into tumult,' he said.

Lisa stared at him. He gazed back at her, rejoicing in the closeness of her beloved features. ‘Michael, they lost their businesses and jobs.'

‘I know. I know.' He had to concentrate on her words, not her expression. ‘But that doesn't mean...'

Lisa was talking faster and faster. He'd never seen her quite this nervous before, her eyes frightened and sad. ‘They had to give up their homes.'

Michael started to reach for her hand, then thought better of it. It was vital that she realise that he was emotionally here for her, that he didn't just want the physical act. He had to make her understand that their alliance was stronger than any tabloid's private probing or public slur.

‘The newspaper was wrong...' he started.

‘Of course it was,' Lisa muttered. ‘Now everyone knows what they were up to.'

‘And what they were up to was honestly fulfilling their desires.' He leaned forward as he spoke, trying to show the depth of his feeling in his eyes and voice tone. ‘They were just following their hearts.'

‘I know, but...' She turned her hands up in a helpless half shrug. ‘Being pointed at in the street must be terrible.'

‘Granted.' He could well imagine the hellish scenario. ‘But do you think the ones who are doing the pointing have nothing to hide?'

Lisa pursed her lips. ‘They're obviously not into spanking, or...'

‘No, but they'll fantasize about golden showers or go in for wife-swapping or something. Most people don't dream about the missionary position all their life.' He watched as she made a snorting sarcastic sound.

‘Some people,' she said, ‘don't seem to be very sexual. When I was counselling, two of my clients said that they had no sexual fantasies at all.'

‘And that's their prerogative and I respect it,' Michael said softly. ‘Just as long as they respect what you and I do on the sexual front.'

‘Or what you and I did,' Lisa muttered, twisting the silver identity bracelet around her wrist then absently fingering its engraving. ‘I don't know if I can continue, knowing that I might have my private life destroyed.'

For the hundredth time that day, he felt the surge of rage that was based on fear - fear that he would lose her.

‘If you end what we have because of some tabloid cruelty then you're not the woman I believed you to be,' he said.

Her mouth quivered, then she cocked her head to one side. ‘Is that an insult, doc?'

He took her hand. ‘No, I'm sure that you'll come through for me. I meant it as a compliment.'

‘The kind of day I've had, I could use some compliments.'

He felt a small surge of triumph when she didn't pull her hand away.

Their cappuccino arrived. It was only when the waitress gave Michael an odd look that he realised he hadn't paid or thanked her.

‘Sorry, Mica, I was miles away,' he said.

‘Friend of yours?' Lisa asked as the woman accepted his coins and moved away from them.

He nodded, not wanting to be sidetracked. ‘I come here for coffee whenever I'm in Valletta. It's refreshingly quiet, as you can hear.'

He watched as Lisa raised her cup to her lips then didn't drink from it. She set it down and looked at him. Her voice was low and hard with tension when she spoke. ‘I just don't know what to do.'

‘Come back with me to Vitality now. Forget the tabloids,' he said quietly. ‘Tomorrow we'll enjoy that date you broke, then we'll go on as before.'

‘Continue doing things that half the world considers sordid?' Lisa muttered, looking at him through eyelashes that were lushly thick and dark.

‘Continue doing things which give us the greatest pleasure and which harm no one else,' he countered quickly, squeezing her small soft hand. That, for him, was the be all and end all - his sex life was nobody else's business, and he knew he was in the right.

‘If half the journalists from The Daily Word surrounded Vitality, could you bear it?' the herbalist prompted.