Set Me Free (23 page)

‘You really
shouldn’t tell me what to do,’ Charlotte remarked, but without conviction.

‘That was advice,
not instruction. I would never dream of telling you what to do, Charlotte
Evans.’

Charlotte’s chest
constricted at the way his voice caressed her name. She turned and looked at
him. ‘I’m still not sure why you're here,’ she let out a resigned sigh, ‘but I
am glad you are.'

His scowl
evaporated. He smiled but said nothing.

Cassette was still
steering Geoff around the gallery. ‘Oh and look at this one,’ she said. ‘What a
vivid fire. And what is it that is burning?  Is that clothes?  Oh this one must
be Anger.' Unlike the others, this piece was indeed vivid. The intense flames
seemed to consume the canvas. Earlier, Charlotte had wondered how Emily had
captured it with such realism. What exactly had happened that day she’d gone
with Diane to pick up her clothes?

‘Depression’,
Cassette continued. ‘This time she is lying in the bed that she made.' Charlotte
bristled again, but stayed motionless this time.

‘And the last one,
Geoff. Look at this. It’s Hope. Have you ever seen anything so full of promise.'

Hope was
Charlotte’s favourite, not just because it was a masterpiece. Like Anger, it
wasn’t washed in Emily’s usual style. It was a painting of a sunrise over the
ocean, as promising as the fire in Anger was vivid. Sunrises weren't an
original subject, but Charlotte had never seen one captured like this. And she
knew the deep recesses of Emily’s mind from which the image had been dragged.

Meet me on the
beach at sunrise.
It was
the one commitment their father always kept. No matter where he was living, he
always made it to St Kilda Beach at sunrise on Christmas Day to see his
children, who eagerly awaited him, lined up next to each other digging their
toes in the sand. The hope Emily had so craftily captured in the painting was
the hope they felt each year: that this year he would come home with them for
the day. Some years he did, and some he didn’t. He never promised them anything
more than meeting them on that beach, for fear he couldn’t keep his word. But
the hope was always there; the pure hope of children. He met them every year
from Charlotte’s first Christmas, which she didn’t even remember, to her
twelfth, before he overdosed and came no more. It was the only thing he ever
did that told them he loved them.

In her painting,
Emily hadn’t captured just any old kind of hope. She’d captured the innocence
of a child’s hope, and it spoke to Charlotte of new beginnings and the belief
things would be different from now on.

Charlotte wiped
away a rogue tear. The hasty movement didn’t go unnoticed.

‘And that’s the
tour,’ Cassette announced. ‘What do you think, Geoff?’

Geoff was suddenly
very sober and stealthily trying to figure out how the hell to get out of there.
Trapped in a melodrama of his own making, he wasn’t sure where this performance
was heading.

Cassette left him
momentarily and clicked across the room to her handbag on the bar. Geoff
remained frozen to the spot.

‘I asked you what
you thought, Geoff,’ Cassette threw over her shoulder as she dug through her
handbag. Charlotte felt Craig stiffen beside her at the sound of the mounting
hysteria in her voice. From her handbag, she withdrew what appeared to be a
water pistol. Although the dark, viscous substance inside it didn’t look to be
water.

‘Well, I’ll tell
you what I think,’ Cassette suddenly shrieked. ‘I think it’s too pure and
holier-than-thou. I think it needs a bit of colour!' She aimed the water pistol
at Shock and began clicking her way back across the floor towards it.

Once again,
everyone moved at once. Geoff bolted for the entrance and disappeared into the
night. Charlotte and Craig charged towards Cassette in tandem, only to skid to
a sudden halt as she was crash-tackled to the floor by Gareth. ‘No you don’t,
you tacky bitch!’ he screamed, slamming the wrist holding the water pistol into
the floor repeatedly.

Cassette screamed
in outrage and writhed furiously beneath Gareth as he wrestled the pistol out
of her grip.

Craig took a step
back, eyes wide and jaw dropped. Charlotte’s hand flew to her mouth to catch
her spluttered laugh. Together they watched Gareth liberate the water pistol,
climb off Cassette and scream, ‘Now get the fuck out of my gallery, you crazy
bitch!’

Charlotte raced
over to Gareth, threw her arms around him and held on tight. He swung a loose
arm around her back to let her know the hug wasn’t unwelcome, but he was
panting too hard to reciprocate. Cassette scrambled to her feet, pulling her
now torn dress down over her exposed underpants. ‘Arsehole!’ she shrieked at
Gareth. And then she turned on Craig.

‘What the fuck are
you smirking at, Sir Stomp-a-lot?  I swear to God you’ve bruised my bloody foot
tonight you’ve stood on it so many times.' She grabbed him by the shirt front
and attempted to drag him out the door. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ she said.

He didn’t exactly
fall in to line. He freed himself from her grip and marched her towards the
door.

Craig shot
Charlotte one last regret-laden look over his shoulder. Charlotte felt Gareth’s
arm tighten protectively around her as they watched them leave. No sooner had
he locked the door behind them, than the silence was broken by hysterical
laughter.

Gareth sent the
remaining staff home and poured Charlotte a drink while he did the final clean
up. Benches wiped, he joined her, lining up the half empty bottles of red. Charlotte
fished her phone out of her handbag to call and check on Emily and Ben, and
tried not to envy Cassette, of her lift home.

‘Yeah,
I’m okay. We got a cab straight away. I’m going to stay at Ben’s place
tonight,’ Emily told Charlotte, glancing across the back seat of the cab at her
companion.

Ben was looking
out of the window, watching the city pass by while she spoke with her sister. His
right hand pressing firmly against the centre seat was the only thing betraying
he was on edge. Wanting to soothe him, she ended her conversation with
Charlotte and collected his tense hand in her own. He turned, startled. She
smiled at him, and he smiled back.

‘Thanks for
rescuing me,’ she said, slipping her phone back in to her handbag.

‘My pleasure.' He
grinned. ‘What happened back there?’

‘Cassette put on a
production as expected, but to a fleeing audience. Geoff ran away, and Craig
took her home.’

Ben leaned his
head back against the taxi seat and asked her if she was okay.

‘Yeah. A little
embarrassed, really. Although relieved that scene didn’t play out until after
everyone had left.'

Loathing and
disgust were other emotions she was grappling with. What should have been one
of the easiest nights of her life had instead been a strained game of cat and
mouse as she skirted around Cassette. It was overwhelming to find the whole
room was looking out for her and Cassette certainly hadn’t succeeded in ruining
her night, but when her estranged husband decided to make an appearance Emily
could have crawled into a hole. It was the final nail in the coffin for her
marriage. His disrespect spoke volumes.

Emily looked at
the man across the back seat of the taxi. Ben had been nothing short of a rock
over the last couple of months. He’d given her a place to stay, the clothes off
his back, loads of coffee and companionship of a kind she’d never known before.
The unconditional kind. He gave her all that and asked for nothing in return. No
wonder Charlotte adored him.

‘Are you sure
you’re okay to crash at mine?’ he asked her now, interrupting her musings.

After a heartbeat,
she answered. ‘I’m pretty confident Geoff is going to end up banging down
Charlotte’s door tonight, so if you’re still okay with it, that would be great.
Charlotte’s neighbours and I would be most appreciative.' She was still holding
his hand. It felt nice. He squeezed it and turned his attention back to the
cityscape passing by the window. After a while, he relaxed and rubbed his thumb
back and forth across her hand. That felt nice too.

‘So what are you
going to do with your spoils?’ he asked.  

‘I’m not sure,’
Emily answered. ‘Maybe something sensible, like save it.' Thirty-five thousand
dollars was nothing to sneeze at. She’d never made that much money from a
single show before.

‘Rubbish,’ Ben
laughed as their cab pulled up outside his apartment building.

Once inside, he
made hot chocolates and they settled on the couch.

‘Maybe I should
use the money to get a place of my own and stop couch surfing between you and
Charlotte?' Emily suggested, resuming their conversation. ‘I’m pretty sure
Charlotte is over having a lodger.’

‘You’re always
welcome here, you know.’

‘I know. You’ve
been amazing, Ben. I’m very lucky Charlotte has you.'

‘
Charlotte
has me?  What does that mean?’

‘You’re her best
friend.’

‘I thought I was
your friend too?’

‘You are.' Emily
sighed and looked at her friend fondly. He looked gorgeous tonight; it was
sweet he’d dressed up for the occasion. She rarely saw him out of jeans and a
t-shirt. Tonight he looked dashing. Like the kind of man who would protect a
woman from threat. Which is what he’d done, more than once.

Emily felt safe
when she was with Ben. With Geoff, she’d never felt threatened; just on her own.
If she needed to deal with something unpleasant, she dealt with it herself, or,
more times than not, went to Charlotte. Geoff was always at work.

But Ben was always
there at the right time, and she never needed to ask. He just knew what she
needed.

Feeling
affectionate, she reached over to smooth his already smooth hair.

He tensed, and the
look he gave her was uncertain.

Curious, she
traced a finger down his cheek. He caught her hand. ‘Emily…’ he said, and for
some reason she leaned forward and silenced him with a kiss. It was long and
slow, and it felt
nice
. It had been ten years since she’d tasted a first
kiss. It felt daring and exciting and sensational. Encouraged and inquisitive,
she crawled into Ben’s lap with her knees either side of his hips. She leant
down slightly to kiss him harder, and he met her pressure. A low moan escaped
him and he slid his arms around her, pulling her closer. His tongue gently
tasted her lips and she parted them, welcoming him in.

Her hands were in
his hair, holding his lips to hers. She felt him stir beneath her, and his
tension became extremely apparent, forcing a moan of her own to escape as she
felt the wave of yearning wash over her. His movements became more urgent, and
she responded. Keeping one hand on the small of her back to stabilise her, he
slipped the other under her kaftan and crept it slowly up over her stomach all
the way to her breast, causing them both to strain in anticipation. She slipped
her arms around behind her back and unclasped her bra, freeing herself for his
touch. His thumb flicked across her nipple, making her need more urgent.

She reached down
and tugged at his shirt, dragging it up and over his head. His bare, hairless
chest was sinewy and sculpted. Her hands traced a path from his shoulders to
his navel until he pushed them away to drag her dress up and over her head. Tossing
it aside, he hastily claimed her taut nipple with his lips.

Emily’s head
lolled back as she was driven by a passion she’d never experienced. Geoff was
the only man she'd ever slept with, and their sexual relationship began as
teenagers. In Ben’s arms, she felt she was making love to a man for the very
first time. In Ben’s arms, she was a woman.

Needing more, she
focused on his pants, the belt buckle, button and zip. He lifted her slightly,
pivoting his hips to remove them, and she rolled with him compliantly. He
kicked his pants off and was completely naked beneath her, his need clear and
urgent. She stood momentarily to remove her underpants. Then she lowered
herself again and felt his nakedness against hers. Panting, they stilled
momentarily, and then commenced another long, slow, kiss. Ben’s fingers found
the core of her longing and caressed and explored her, not just readying her,
but amplifying her need.

Clasping his
erection, she led him to her, slightly tilting her hips and then bearing down
slowly, catching him, guiding him and enclosing him within her. Emily gasped,
overcome by the sensation. He reclaimed her nipple with his mouth, causing her
to arch her back, begging him for more. He obliged readily, teasing her with
his lips and his tongue, tugging at her gently, and all the while, savouring
her. A gentle, steady rhythm found them and they moved together in a dance that
was instinctual and utterly overwhelming.

Emily felt her
climax building and held on for dear life as Ben found her mouth with his and
took her over the edge. Her gasp was loud and guttural, spurring on his own
climax. He shuddered uncontrollably as he came, and for a moment she thought he
would weep. Instead, he pulled her to him as the waves of passion subsided,
kissing her neck and gently cupping her breast with one hand while burying the
other in her hair.

When their hearts
slowed, and their breathing returned to normal, he nibbled playfully on her ear
lobe.

‘I love you,’ he
said.

Emily froze, as
though someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on her. Ben, feeling her
reaction, stilled himself, then pulled back to look at her. His expression
concealed nothing. He was terrified.

‘Ben…,’ Emily
began, climbing off him, searching for her dress. She threw it on quickly,
covering her still throbbing womanhood and swollen breasts.

‘Oh shit,’ said
Ben. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.' He began his own frantic search
for his clothes and finding them within arm’s reach, madly pulled them back on.

‘We shouldn’t have
done that,’ Emily blustered. She needed to get out. Before she’d felt
protected, and now she felt… she didn’t know how she felt. Confused? Surprised?
Completely and utterly sated?  She couldn’t deny that.

But it was all
wrong. He was her friend, and she’d crossed the line. And by doing so, she’d
betrayed him, because if he did love her, it was not reciprocated. She was a
soon-to-be divorcee who had no business having men fall in love with her. She
carried far too much baggage for that.

Did he really mean
what he said or was it just the afterglow?  Whichever it was, she wasn’t
sticking around to analyse it.

Now dressed, Ben
quickly clued on to her intentions. ‘Emily, we should talk about this.’

‘Uh huh. Yes, we
should,’ she replied, gathering her things and backing away from him towards
the door. ‘But not right now. I’m sorry, Ben. I can’t.' And she turned and fled
before she even knew where she would go. Halfway down the stairs, she realised
she wasn’t wearing any underpants.