Man Of Myth

By

Dorothy Strangelove

Trust is a precious thing. People talk about love and sex being so important but at the end of the day, it's nothing without trust, that's the seam that holds the fabric together. Without it, everything falls apart. When trust has been misused it never feels the same again, no matter how relationships evolve - or how much time and forgiveness has gone into the mix.

My lover and my best friend. What a fucking betrayal. It had been a couple of years ago, and now my friend Karen was trying to mend things. She had sent me text messages for more than three months before I agreed to meet with her. The first time was hard but after that I decided she deserved my sympathy more than forgiveness because she had fallen for a cunt the same way I did, it was just that he was yet to demonstrate his cuntishness to her just yet. But sooner or later he would show it, he would sleep around, hit her or do both and then dump her, by which time I would offer no sympathy but I would still be there because she had been my friend for ten years and he had merely been a cock I had liked to sit on for eighteen months, so it kind of balanced out that way. But all the same, the memory stayed with me:

I had walked into that bar to meet Matt hoping we could have a talk and sort things out because he had been so distant lately. That was when I still had the illusion of trust, when I thought everything was still right in my world no matter how much seemed vaguely misplaced. And he had been there, sitting at the bar with her. She had started to try and apologise, he had told me plain to my face, I'm sorry but we love each other... The bar had been crowded that night, but in that second of realisation I had split from the warmth and okay-ness of being part of the warm, fuzzy whole and felt my guts rip out as the space around me split open and all I was aware of was this void of nothing, the space between me and the rest of the world now a mile wide and the atmosphere dead, the lights turning a cold harsh illumination on this place that told me my happiness had been snatched away and with it something in me that I could not set right again. I hated them both.

I walked out of there alone, not wanting this emptiness as my new companion. The sky was black and starless and the shutters were pulled down so not even the lights from the arcades saw me off home. The fairground was closed and still and a cold wind picked up from across the sea, carried over the high wall and seemed to hit me in the back, hurrying me along. I looked back and all I saw in the distance was one single source of warmth and light - the sea front bar where I had left them both. Where I had left my warmth and light. I wished them both dead and went on my way.

But time heals all wounds, or at least, heals them enough to carry on. But I never forgot. And I knew I never would. Sometimes I hoped he would hit her, or cheat on her, or both, or worse - but he didn't, so I put that at the back of my mind. She wanted to be my friend. I let her be my friend. Things became a strange sort of near normal after a while, although it never really felt right if she invited me out with her and he showed up. He was very cautious around me at first but after a while he slid backwards into his usual arsehole mode of behaviour and the more I looked outside-in I could see that I was better off without him and she was, quite frankly, on a one way trip to getting everything she deserved eventually.

One Saturday afternoon we took a drive up to the sea front. She was driving her shiny new car, the one she had got a week before, while I had waited outside the showroom bored shitless, wondering how she ever managed to swap her old heap of shit for something as nice as this and pay such little cash. She had spent a long time in the office with the salesman, so I assumed some cock sucking may have gone on, it would have suited her to pay that way, I guessed. But today she wanted to talk to me about an idea she had that she thought was so exciting. I was expecting it to be something stupid or boring, but as we drove past the closed arcades and the near-empty fairground, she kept going straight and glanced at me and said:

"Let's do a seance!"

She was excited, her red lipgloss shining in the sunlight as the breeze from the open window made her fair ponytail whip about.

"Where?"

"Up at the old Clear Point Club... remember when we used to talk about doing that?"

"When we was at school, Karen."

"No, no, last week, when we went out for a drink, remember that bloke was talking to his mate about the ghost. You wanted to do a seance up there and I said one day we will because you want to see what happens.."

I sighed. I did recall the conversation, it was a late night one after too many drinks and I remembered saying it would be interesting, I'd also put in a few facts about the whole story and been give a set of new ones. It seemed the more an urban myth spreads, the more the details change. It was one of those stories that school kids told to scare each other,  I doubted if there was anything else to it. But the myth had stuck and it seemed it was still evolving.

"Karen, I think I'm a bit too old to be playing stupid games.."

She stopped the car. Up ahead was a steep hill, on top of it stood an old club house, the windows boarded up and a fence surrounding it, here and there holes had been patched with board and wire mesh. A clear sign was erected by the locked gates that said: KEEP OUT. By day it looked like a sad old forgotten building, but I guessed it would seem more scary at night, sitting as it did with a steep drop to the sea below, with nothing for a view from any unboarded windows on the other side but the vast expanse of sea water rolling like a mass of black ink in the moonlight.

Karen looked at me.

"Please, Ellie."

There was something so desperate about her, the way she was pleading with me like she wanted this more than anything else in the world.

"Okay. When do you want to do it, then?"

"Tonight, we have to do it tonight, its fifty years to the day since the stabbing."

Now all the conversation was coming right back. It seemed everyone had heard a different story.

"It's not fifty years, it's twenty years. It happened two decades ago."

"That's not what I heard." Karen said, "It was fifty years ago. His name was Alexander and he was a barman."

"No, it was twenty years ago. His name was Adrian and he was the owner of the place. He caught his girlfriend with another man and stabbed them both to death."

"Then he put the bodies in the back and drove the car over the cliff." Karen said.

"No, " I told her, "He shoved the car over the cliff with the bodies inside and he drowned himself in the sea. There were only two bodies in the car. I know it, I'm sure I read it in the paper years ago...”

Karen waved her hand, dismissing the vital component to the conversation - the truth - as if it meant nothing to her.

"Forget that. What do we know about the myth?"

"Light the candles at midnight in the club house and the ghost appears in a mirror." I told her, it was all I could recall from the times we had swapped scary stories at school smoking behind the canteen at lunchtime.

"No," She said, looking excited again, " I know all about the myth. They say you have to get into the club house at midnight and light twelve candles in a circle, then call his name and ask him to show himself. Then he walks through the mirrored glass behind the bar with a knife in his hand. And if a man calls him, he thinks he's his love rival and stabs him to death...and if a woman calls him, he thinks she's his lost love, and he fucks her on the pool table!"

She said it with such sincerity I burst into a fit of laughter.

"Ellie, I mean it! That's what I was told!” She said, "I heard about some girls that went up there and tried it years ago and one of them saw something so scary she ran out screaming with her clothes ripped and her arms all bruised...”

"And her name was..?"

Karen paused. Thought about it.

"I don't know, I just heard the story."

"Because that's all it was, Karen. There's nothing up there. It's just an old building."

As I spoke I looked up at the lonely old club house, paint peeling and windows boarded over. A chill ran through me but I put that down to my imagination.

"You want to do this?" I asked her.

"More than anything."

"Okay, I said, "Tonight. But I'm telling you now, nothing will happen!"

When nightfall came I was ready to go. It was the middle of summer and the daytime had been hot and showing little sign of cooling off much as the sun went down, so I put on a long, white summer dress, it had the kind of tiny straps that Matt would have loved to have slid off my shoulders at one time, but now even the sight of much of my bra-less cleavage would do nothing to excite him, he only had eyes for Karen. Not that I cared much but I still thought about it sometimes all the same. The skirt was long and light, floated as I moved and was perfect for a sultry night like this. It was almost eleven when Karen pulled up outside.

To my disappointment Matt was in the passenger seat beside her. He glanced at me, I could tell by his expression he would rather be at home or out having last orders somewhere before the pub shut, anywhere other than this.

"Alright, Ellie...” He said in a disinterested tone.

I nodded to him and got in the back, wishing I hadn't agreed to this after all. I hated anything where he was coming along for the ride.

We drove in silence down the back streets, then along the straight road that led to the club house. When we got there Karen parked the car and got out, taking with her a carrier bag containing candles.

Matt got out and lit a cigarette.

As I closed the passenger door I glanced at Karen and said: "I hope you have twelve candles in there, it has to be exact."

Karen nodded, completely serious.

"Oh, yes. No less than twelve." She said.

And I followed them up the hill suppressing the urge to laugh out loud all the way. I couldn't believe that someone of her age took this shit so seriously!

When we reached the gate she gave it a shove and it groaned open on hinges that thirsted for oil.

"That was easy." She said aloud.

Now I was starting to worry - an unlocked gate either meant this place had so fallen to ruin that it had been broken into many times before, or someone guarded it at night - or someone could even be squatting here. And I felt at ease with none of those options. But unlike Karen, who was wearing a clingy little dress and big, strappy high heels just to please Matt, I was wearing fairly low sensible shoes - shoes that I could run away in, just in case this night went tits up in the worst possible way.

Matt flicked the remains of his smoke into the darkness as Karen struggled with the door handle. I was just about to say there was no way in when I noticed the padlock to the main entrance was hanging open. she noticed it too and unlatched it, then gave the door a shove and it swung open with a creak that sounded like something out of a fairground haunted house. She reached up and flicked a light switch. Dim bulbs flickered and came on; as I followed them inside she pushed the door shut again.

"That's useful - still got lighting. I heard someone must have bought this place because they had workmen up here a few weeks ago - that's one of the reasons I wanted us to come," Karen told me, "In case who ever owns it has it pulled down, if they did that we would never get to see this place for ourselves.." She stopped right there, looking around her.

We were standing in a corridor with a faded red carpet and to the left were two other doors - the toilets. The walls were decorated with yellowing wallpaper with a sea shell pattern raised in woodchip and mounted on the wall was a big grey payphone with an old fashioned dial and handset, the kind that had gone out of fashion when push button phones came into use. In front of us were double doors, painted black with small panes of frosted glass in the upper half, the handles were made of polished brass and still gleamed in the weak light. Again Karen went first, she pushed the right side of the door open all the way and we went inside. The room was painted dark red, the bar was curved and crafted from polished mahogany. At one end of the bar was a matching wooden door, which I guessed led down to the cellar. One half of the room had the same red carpet, the other half was smooth with big pillars decorated with mosaic reflective glass that matched the mirror balls that hung from the ceiling. The room was lit by spotlights, only four worked now and this made it seem eerie in the half-light, the bar was lit up and the mirrored wall behind it looked spotless. Bottles still hung there, glasses were neatly stacked and although some of the logos on the beer fonts were out of date two still lit up. It was like a time capsule. As if everyone had just upped and left one day like the Mary Celeste.

"Where did he kill them?" I asked her.

"He stabbed her in the cellar and killed him right here in the bar." Said Karen.

Matt laughed.

"They chose the right colour for this place, then." He remarked, indicating to the blood red walls.

But neither I nor Karen laughed. And although I doubted everything I'd ever heard about the murders, this old building did give me a chill, it was something about the way the dust hung in the air and the place smelled of age - as if something still lived here, still remained from that night.

Karen arranged the candles on a table in the corner and set out three chairs around it. Then she lit the candles. As each wick fed from the match and spattered into a firelight of its own, as more light inched into the dim corner and lit us, the rest of place became dimmer, almost in a dizzying way. Shadows crept and leapt as poor artificial light vied with tiny, living fire flames to illuminate, it made for an unearthly mix and as I sat down I glanced across to the bar. Reflecting shades of light made the mirrored wall behind it seem to swirl and crawl with shadow. As she took her place next to Matt he slid his hand under the table and up her dress. She shot him a disapproving look.

"Not now!"

He laughed.

"I think we should have a fuck when this seance is out of the way."

I avoided his gaze; he had glanced to me just to see if I reacted as he spoke to her - I didn't give him the satisfaction. He would find no anger or hint of humiliation from me, I refused to feed him in that way.

"Matt, shut up.” Said Karen, "Lets link hands.."

Matt heaved a sigh and held out his hands.

And so the three of us sat there, in that old place, by candle light, holding hands while I wondered what the rest of the population of this small, dead-boring sea side town did for entertainment..maybe a spot of devil worship - that would certainly liven things up. Or there was always raising the dead,  like we were trying to do right now...I could have laughed aloud at the ridiculousness of the situation. Karen was going for it like she was still the school girl who used to listen with awe to all the urban myths that used to fly around the classroom.

"We call upon the spirit of the man who stabbed two people to death to show himself..Aexander or Adrian..which is it? Can the man who haunts the mirror show himself."

There was no sound save for the crackle and hiss of a candle wick that fizzled a little. The lights stayed dim and silence hung in the air like a statement of the obvious - there was nothing here to be raised.

"Show yourself.” Karen said again, "Through the mirror that you haunt!"

And the only sound we heard was Matt giggling quietly.

Then I laughed too.

Karen broke the circle and blew out the candles.

"Well at least I gave this a proper go without taking the piss!"

She glared at him, then at me.

"I should have tried this on my own!"

She got up sharply, the chair went back with a sharp scrape and she stormed out of the room, followed swiftly by Matt, who  was using his regular apologetic babe, wait up.. tone of voice that I knew only too well. Matt had closed the door behind him and all I heard was muffled voices in the corridor beyond, then things seemed to simmer down. I went over to the door and pushed it open a fraction.

Karen was against the wall beside the payphone, Matt had just kissed her. He looked into her eyes and fell to his knees, slid her skirt to her hips and ran his hands up her thighs, before digging his thumbs in either side of her slit and spreading her wide open and licking her long and deep, once, twice, again and then some more.. just like he used to do to me. Any where, any time he felt like it, having a lick or a feel and never mind if anyone else saw us.. I silently let go of the door and let it glide shut again, I knew he got something of a thrill from the risk of being seen and he wasn't using me for his kicks tonight.  I turned back towards the bar.

What I saw gave me the shock of my life.

There was a man behind the bar. Not the bar the way I had seen it when I walked in, this bar was brighter, cleaner, with polished glasses and bottles lining the mirrored wall. He wiped the bar with a cloth and set down a gleaming polished glass with an elegant stem and poured a glass of white wine.

"Do you want this or shall I give you something stronger?" He asked me.

I was frozen to the spot, staring at him. He was real, solid, cast a shadow, a real man standing behind a bar that had suddenly come back to life. I glanced around. Everything else remained the same - the candles were still there on the table, wicks darkened after Karen extinguished them, the chair was still back where she had got up angrily. I stared at the man behind the bar again.

"Are you.." Words failed me. Thankfully he helped me out.

"Am I a ghost? Did you summon me? And am I a murderer?"

I nodded, still frozen to the spot.

He picked up another glass, held it up and polished the rim.

"Yes to all three." He informed me, stopped polishing the glass, admired the way it sparkled and set it down with the others.

I was still at a distance from him, but oddly I felt no fear. He had spoken so nicely, so politely, as if he wanted to have a conversation with me, like he welcomed this. There was no hint of the man of myth, who supposedly stabbed people to death for calling him, who raped women on the pool table (this place didn't even have a pool table). He smiled at me.

"Come closer, then. I don't bite."

He had said that with a wicked gleam in his eye but there was a softness about his voice that made me feel at ease. And he was attractive, too.  He was standing behind that bar in a spotless white shirt (for some reason I expected it to be spattered with blood),had a gold chain around his neck and a small gold stud in his ear. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and as he moved back to arrange some bottles I noticed the way his dark blue jeans hugged a perfect arse. He was in his late thirties or maybe forties, I couldn't put an age on him, but then again he was a ghost so I realised it would be hard to weigh him up like a living man. But I liked what I saw, even though the idea that he was dead scared me a little.

"What is your name?" I asked him.

He gave the bar a final polish.

"Adrian." He said, "And your friend got quite a few facts wrong, by the way. I didn't kill anyone in the bar. Twenty-eight years ago I caught my girlfriend with a friend of mine. She was having sex with him over there in the corner, up against the wall. It was early in the morning, by the way, before the club was opened,  I dragged him off her and hit him. Then I went behind the bar through the little door to the left and down to the cellar, I was hoping if I stayed down there I would be able to resist the urge to do him some more damage, but he came down the cellar and started on me, I picked up a carving knife and stabbed him with it because he had his hands around my throat. Then she comes in and starts screaming at me saying I'm a murderer and she was going to make sure I got locked up, even though I stabbed him in self defence." He paused.

"Have you got all this?"

I nodded.

"Good," He said, "Because I wouldn't want you to think you've summoned an axe-wielding maniac! Anyway, where was I - oh, yes..I stabbed him once in self defence. But after it went in once it just sort of became automatic and it went in him about five more times..or was it six?"

He paused, lost in thought, and then snapped his fingers.

"Ah, yes..it was definitely six. One accidental and five for the hell of it. Then she said she was going to get me locked up. She ran out the cellar, through the bar and into the corridor but the front door was shut and in those days it was a bit stiff. I got her by the hair and slit her throat. I didn't really mean to, in hind sight.. I do regret it, but it was just a heat of the moment thing, know what I mean?"

He was talking about his actions as casually as a person might talk about going shopping and making a few impulse purchases.

"I know it sounds a bit weird, the way I can talk about it so easily, but I have had many years to think about it - I've probably got eternity to think about it, so I felt I should put a few facts straight for you."

My head was spinning. Had he been here so long, trapped because of his crime that it had sent him insane, or had he been insane to begin with? Or maybe he wasn't crazy at all, perhaps he was lonely and unhappy and haunted by his own actions..as if reading my mind, he spoke again :

"I've been trapped here since that night, I never meant to do what I did, it just happened. I was eighteen years old and everything going for me and one stupid mistake cost me everything. I owned this place, you know? This is my club. And all I get is kids coming in, getting drunk, messing the place up, scaring each other..and people break in, they break things, piss up the walls, you name it, this place has had it. And every time I get summoned the people who do it run off and leave me here alone..but not you. Maybe you can stay a while and talk to me...get to know me a bit.."

I was entranced by him. He had told me all these horrible things and yet I saw the man underneath it, who had been little more than a kid when he had acted out of anger, in the heat of the moment - it was a crime of passion, I told myself, that was all. Could happen to anyone...

"Come over here." He said quietly, and inched the glass across the bar a little more.

I took a step forward, the decision to walk towards him was harder than doing it, I brushed aside my initial shock and simply walked across the floor to the bar. His eyes met mine.

"Drink from my glass."

He slid the glass an inch from my hand.

The glass was clean and polished, it sparkled and the white wine within fizzled in a lively way, the bubbles chased and dashed to the top, leaping like miniature salmon as the fizz escaped.

His eyes locked with mine and suddenly there was an intensity about him that I had not seen before, tempered with a darkness in his eyes that reflected as he spoke.

"I said, drink it..please.."

It was as if his stare penetrated my will, from the thought in my mind to the hand onto glass. My fingers closed around the cool, shiny glass and I raised it to my lips. The wine was chilly and tasted dry. I swallowed it down, my eyes still met with his. I set the glass down on the bar. Then he smiled.

"Thank you, Ellie...now we have a real connection."

I froze and this time my blood turned to ice.  The darkness that seemed to exude from him grew deeper.

"Now we are linked." He said.

The door opened and Matt and Karen came back. With them came a sense of sanity and normality.

"I can see him!" I said aloud.

I looked to the mahogany bar. Adrian was still there, leaning against the bar. He smiled.

"Good evening." He said aloud.

They glanced around, looked at me blankly.

"Who?" Asked Karen.

"Him!" I said, pointing to the man behind the bar who was laughing softly.

"There's no one there, Ellie."

"They can't see me." Adrian said.

The horror of the situation was dawning on me, I had summoned him, no one else would believe me and I was stuck with him. He came out from behind the bar and stood behind me, coiled his arm around my waist and slid his hand up my body, fingers closing over my right breast as he started to fondle me over my dress. I could feel his breath in my ear.

"He's touching me!" I gasped.

The other two just stared at me like I was crazy.

"Oh, you have lovely tits.." He whispered in my ear, "I'm going to enjoy having you..I have much time to make up for..the long, long time I've been dead.."

"He's in here with us!" I said, "Karen, he's behind me!"

To my utter disbelief Karen glared at me.

"You're just taking the piss." She snapped, "And for that you can fucking walk home. Come on, Matt, let's go!"

And she took his hand, turned away and walked out, he went with her, without so much as a backwards glance.

I couldn't follow. He had one arm pinned behind my back as he fondled me. As the main entrance door slammed shut, I gave a sob.

"Please, Adrian..let me go!"

"If I let you go," He said calmly, "You will never come back. And I will be alone here forever. You drank from my glass. Now I can reach you, I can touch you, I can keep you here with me. I can't let you go. If I let you go, you'll run like all the others. Sorry, it's not an option."

He released his grip but fear - or his own unearthly power - seemed to root me to the spot. Also it was running through my mind that his girlfriend had not got any further than the door when he had slit her throat..

He was giving me that long, penetrating stare again and it seemed to cut right through me, as if my soul, to him, was made of glass.

"I don't like your friends." He told me, "Not nice people. Both liars who betrayed you. I can relate to that."

My fear was subsiding a little. He wasn't about to leap on me and kill me. He was actually having a conversation.

"I thought I could trust them both but I was wrong. He left me for her. And she treats everyone like shit."

"You deserve better." He told me, " I hate people like that. Last time I had people like that in my life, I killed them."

Then he dismissed that thought.

"I need to use you, Ellie. I need to use you for my satisfaction. It is the only way I can find a tiny bit of peace. Even if I hurt you, I will let you go come morning, I promise you."

"No," I whispered, "Please, let me go, please.."

And his hands were on me, resting on my hips, gripping a little too hard, just to remind me I had no say in this matter. Then he pulled me close, kissed my lips briefly, and pulled me close to him sharply. His mouth was pressed against my ear as he spoke in a low voice:

"I hear and see everything, you know... you laughed about the story about this place in the bar with your slut of a friend, you said you wouldn't mind if I came back to life and raped you.."

As he spoke his hand slid downwards, quickly, firmly, pulling up my dress and diving between my thighs. My legs shook and I said nothing, knowing that the wetness spilling out of me would betray my deepest feeling - I wanted him, even though he was forcing himself on me, I wanted him and my cunt was swelling and weeping with juice. As he slid a finger in me he laughed softly.

"You lying little bitch, you do want me! Well, Ellie.. it seems you have your wish.."

He grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head backwards, as he did so I saw him hold something up. To my relief it wasn't a gleaming blade but a rubber ball gag.

"Open wide." He said coldly.

I obeyed him, he slipped the ball in my mouth and buckled it up tight. The ball was not large but enough to stop me speaking without restricting my breathing.

"That's better." He said, "Now I can talk and fuck and do what ever I like to you and you won't  interrupt me.. that's what I call the perfect woman!"

And he grabbed me by the wrist and led me towards the cellar door. As it swung open he turned on the light and I saw a long flight of wooden steps leading down into a concrete basement. He made me go first, pausing to close the door behind him, making sure he did not let go of my wrist. When I got to the bottom of the stairs I stared at the room that lay before me - this was no ordinary wine cellar. A large space had been cleared for a dungeon. On the wall hung whips and paddles, dildoes and sex toys cluttered a shelf and in the middle of all this was a long, black leather table with restraints attached. Behind it, small candles burned.

"I used to take her down here all the time and she loved it," He told me, "That's another reason why I was so angry she went with someone else.. I gave her more than everything, and now it's your turn!"

I had never heard stories about the club house killer having a dungeon. Maybe there were stories about it, but they had not reached my ears. That was the trouble with urban myths, so much was said, so little was true and the real facts, at least in this case, were turning out to be very different to how I had imagined them to be.

He closed both hands on the front of my dress and ripped it apart, tearing the flimsy material from my body. As it fell to the ground I could only stand there and let him look, I had no underwear on because of the heat earlier on and he could see everything, my tits, my cunt, especially my cunt and the fact that although I was shaking with fear my slit was swollen and gleaming with juice, the same juice that was making my thighs slide together when I walked.

"Get on the table." He commanded.

I did not resist him as he laid me out and strapped my wrists down. Then he bent my knees and spread my legs wide before tightly securing my ankles with more straps, then again at my thighs to make sure I was held firmly open with everything in full view.

Then he stood back and looked at me, lying naked with my tits on show and my legs wide open, unable to speak because of the gag.

"Now might be the best time to make a confession." He told me. He took a deep breath, but as he spoke he was as calm as ever.

"I'm not a ghost."

I stared at him. I knew I couldn't speak because of the gag, and trying to yell and scream would just make me breathless, so I listened in horror as he told me everything:

"I'm Adrian, I am the bloke who killed his girlfriend and stabbed her lover. And I did push the car over the cliff - but I certainly never went with it, like I said, I was eighteen, I had the rest of my life ahead of me... I knew I couldn't get away with it because the place was covered in blood and so was I, and I was really upset about what I'd done... so I turned myself in. It worked out quite well, actually. They said it was done in a moment of madness, a crime of passion - I never even served time. They locked me up for a few years then said I was sane again - always knew I was sane to begin with -  but never mind, I got out, I changed my name, I moved back here, I hung onto the club because I wanted to get the money together to open it up again one day, although I'm still stuck with that one, but I get by, I make a living selling used cars. That's how I met your friend. By the way, she's no friend. She's a nasty little cunt. She wanted a deal for her old banger on a really nice motor I had out the front, she asked me what it would cost. I looked out the window and saw you waiting for her and I said - only as a joke - I'll have your friend, and you know what? She said Yes!"

Adrian sounded genuinely shocked.

"What a nasty person." He said, "Swapping you for a car! I hate people like that! Anyway, she told me that she was thinking about doing a seance up here, what a coincidence, I thought - so I told her I was the bloke who just bought the place - I couldn’t have said I'm the man the stories are about or she would have run a mile - and I got her to bring you up here and leave you here. I told them to pretend they couldn't see me. I gave her five hundred quid on top of the motor to share with that twat of boyfriend of her's, and here we are now. So, isn't that nasty? I'm glad you're here but I really hate those two. They remind me of the past - they make me want to kill again!  But I think instead we'll just have some fun. And I will let you go in the morning, I promise.. as long as you keep your mouth shut, because I do know where you live. Is that okay?"

He had said it all so politely, so calmly. I nodded.

"Good girl." He replied.

Then he picked up a candle that was burning brightly, swirled it around and watched as the molten wax shifted about around the wick.

"I'm going to make you come really, really hard soon," He promised me, his gaze still on the hot wax, "But first I want to make that cunt of your's nice and pink.."

He heard my muffled cries through the gag and spoke calmly to me as he placed his thumb and forefinger either side of my slit and spread me wide.

"Shhh.." He said softly, "It won't hurt you..much."

And he tipped the candle, molten wax ran down my pubic mound, burning sharply, burning deeper as it reached my clitoris. He had carefully pulled the hood back to make sure the wax came to rest over it and no further, as I screamed into the gag he paused, let the candle burn some more and gently blew on the wax to make sure it was setting over my clit. Then he dripped some more, drop by drop, until it was completely covered with drying wax. Sweat was running off my body and my legs were shaking hard. He put the candle back in its holder and turned his attention to my tits, pinching my nipples and squeezing them sharply. As he heard me moan he gave a deep sigh.

"I love it when I make a woman moan." He said, "Especially if she's at my mercy."

He put on a latex glove,  took some lube and covered two fingers with it, then slid them up my arse. There was no warning from him, they just went in, and went deep, he spread them out and I felt my hole stretching with the pressure, the pulling around my ring was tapping on nerves that seemed to shake my clit awake again and despite the wax that was now dried over it, juice was running from deep inside me as I moaned with pleasure. My clit was aching and overly sensitive, yet begging for more attention. He noticed and as his fingers rotated in my arse he ran his thumb down my slit.

"You'll come soon," He promised me, then shoved his thumb in my arse, too. But I was so wet with juice and lube that it slid in and my hole just spread to accommodate him.  The fingering and stretching went on for a while, until he had four, then five fingers in my arse. He pushed his hand in and out, right up to the knuckles, twisted it around and the sensation made me scream into the gag with the pleasure and pain of it all. Then he withdrew his hand and took off the glove.

"Nice?" He asked me.

I nodded. Even without the ball gag I doubted I would have had the energy to speak after all that excitement.

"I have to go upstairs and wash my hands properly." He said, "I won't be long."

And he left me tied there, legs open with wax dried to my aching clit, as I wished I could burst out of my restraints and get my hands down there and rub away the longing that was making me go slowly mad.

He seemed to be gone for ages, but I knew it was just me aching for more. He walked back down the steps slowly, taking his time as he paused to admire the view of me with my fisted arse and waxed up slit. Then he came over to me and produced a black silken box.

"For you." He said, and took off the lid.

I stared in shock. Inside were six shiny, slender needles.

"One through each tit and four in the cunt?" He asked me sweetly.

I struggled and tried in vain to protest through the gag but the bonds were tight and the gag kept me almost silent. I stilled my panic and took slow, deep breaths, wanting this to be done with quickly.

"I won't be piercing all the way through." He assured me, "Takes longer to heal - and hurts less. Under the surface piercing is more painful although bloodless, which suits me fine. I hate the sight of blood, brings back bad memories."

He pinched my nipple and pulled it up high, then drove the needle through just beneath, it went through about five millimetres of skin with a sharp sting and just sat there, set upon my flesh. He did the second one with the same ease, going through a fraction of skin but making me yelp in pain as the needle ran through then rested in my skin, stinging beneath the surface. Then he turned his attention to my pubic mound, pinching a tiny piece of flesh and sliding the needle through. One went across my pubic mound, the other went beneath it, by the time he reached the lips of my cunt I was wet and swollen, anticipating pain yet longing for release. He pinched the left side of my fleshy mound, held the tip of the needle against the skin, enough for me to feel the point prickle, I moaned and struggled, wanting release yet knowing the pain would come first. He slid the needle through and it burned and stung, seemed to bite deep. He pinched the other side and slid that one in the same way, vertically to rest against my lips. By now my cunt was gaping wide despite the wax and I was swollen so badly I was sure I could feel my vagina closing up with the gagging need for a cock, I felt engorged and I was soaked in my own juice.

He reached down and ripped away the wax. The pain made my eyes pop with sparkles that danced across my vision and I was sure I was about to black out. But he reached over and unbuckled the gag.

"I'm going to remove this but if you start shouting at me I'll put it back on, ok?"

I nodded.

He hesitated.

"I mean it," He said quietly, "I don't like being shouted at, especially by a fucking woman.. I have a very, very sensitive issue with that after what she did to me..I'm sure I wouldn't have killed her if she had been more understanding."

He removed the gag.

Then he started laughing.

"You can say it if you want to, you think I'm mad.."

And as I looked into his eyes the strangest realisation crept up on me.  I didn't want to agree with him! To others, yes, he may have seemed mad - but no more insane than me, many had been the time I had looked at Karen and thought of her with Matt's cock up her and pictured all sorts - pushing her in front of a bus as we walked home from the pub, putting poison in her tea one afternoon, taking the hand brake off and giving the car a gentle shove while she was standing in front of it with her back to me - to name but a few. What was so different about me and Adrian?

I thought about it:

Most people thought like Adrian when someone had hurt them beyond belief, there came a point when 'I could just kill her' or 'I want to kill him' had run through most peoples minds - the difference being most people didn't act on it.

But did that make him wrong? Did it really make him so wrong?

As I looked into his eyes, I saw a man who had experienced the same betrayal as me.

I knew about the rage and the pain and the hurt, the smashing of trust, the ripping away of all things held dear. I recalled how I had felt the night I found out they had betrayed me. I had stood in the middle of that club with all the pain I should have directed at them spinning back and hitting me full force because I had done nothing, like a meek little lamb I had walked away and carried all the hurt with me.

But Adrian was not like that.

He had acted. And right or wrong, I could relate.

"I know how it feels." I told him, "When I saw the two of them together it was like my insides wanted to rip themselves to shreds. I don't blame you for doing what you did, I know why you did it."

Adrian just looked at me, showing no reaction to my statement.

"Well," He said, it doesn't really matter now - they've been dead for years, I only think about it when I come up here,  actually I hate this old place, brings it all back to me, but I can't sell it and it's falling apart, it's like as long as this place still stands it haunts me, if you understand what I mean."

Then he snapped out of his sombre mood.

"Do you trust me yet, Ellie?"

After everything he had done I was still breathing and we had even paused for conversation. That was a Yes from me.

I nodded my head.

"Let's see how much." He replied.

He took a brass petrol lighter from his pocket.

He flipped the top.

He slipped his hand between my open legs.

I froze, instinct told me there was nothing I could do but force myself to keep still and hope he was not about to burn me down there.

"Now I'm going to see how much you can take - and how much you think you can trust me."

The lighter was a fraction away from my open cunt.

He sparked it. The flame leapt up and started to burn, I could feel the heat on my labia, my too-sensitive clit. I whimpered, he inched the flame closer. My clit started to burn. I cried out. He moved the flame away a little and all I felt was heat.

"I haven't touched you with it."

"No."

"Maybe I should. Do you think I should?"

He sounded so calm, so controlled.

"No." I said quietly.

"Maybe I want to." He replied, and snapped the lid shut, then moved it so close his hand was pressed against my flesh.

I heard the lid snap open again. He sparked the flame.

A searing heat ran up my pubic mound, scorching my slit. I was watching him this time. The flame was not touching me, all I could feel was the heat as it reached my already tender flesh, he was not burning me at all. I could trust him.

His eyes met mine and I saw a mutual understanding.

He closed the lid, extinguishing the flame.

"How does it feel?"

"Hot, tender."

"Did I burn you?"

"No."

"That's because I didn't want to hurt you." He told me, "I'm going to untie you now, don't move."

I remained motionless as he untied my restraints.

After everything he had done I felt exhausted, the heat from the flame had been concentrated in my slit and not on the needles in my flesh but they had sat there so long the stinging had subsided and as he carefully withdrew them from my flesh all I felt was a brief tenderness as each pin slid away from me. He paused to look at me laying there, my cunt red and swollen from his treatment - wetness was still oozing from me despite everything.

"I think you still want a fuck, even after all that." He remarked, and slid me down the table and opened my legs wider.

He unzipped himself and got his cock out, he was rock hard and wasted no time with foreplay (for tonight the torture had to serve as that), then he rammed it in me, a single, deep thrust that made me yell out with pain at the suddenness yet pleasure at the final release of it all. He thrust into me hard and deep, with slow, deliberate thrusts that made the table creak and the world seem to jar with his every movement as my exhausted body was fucked and slammed about like a rag doll. He pounded into me over and over, until he buried it deep and shot me full of hot come, even then he still thrust a few more times and when he pulled out of me he ran his hand up the shaft, watched as a final drop of cum welled up from his cock, then he wiped it off with his finger and brushed it across my lips.

I licked it, tasted it, wanting to know the flavour of him.

Then he drew me upwards from the table and into his arms. Finally he embraced me.

"I did not expect us to have such a meeting of minds." He confessed, and kissed me softly.

Early morning sunlight was breaking over a harsh white-skied morning, the snap of night chill was leaving the air with reluctance and as he opened the door to the club the cold hit my skin, but behind me, I swear I could still feel his warmth. It seemed to radiate from him and I knew I would always need that heat from his body beside me.

"I'll come and see you." I promised him, "I know where you work."

As I looked back at him that darkness was back in his eyes. I tensed.

He grabbed my wrist as his impulsiveness took over again.

"I'm sorry, Ellie." He said quietly, "I can't let you go."

He dragged me back into the doorway.

And our eyes met in a different way. He let go of my wrist, our bodies entwined like ivy twisting together and we kissed, we kissed long and we kissed deeply.

When he pulled back he glanced around us at the old building we stood in.

"This place is bad for me, isn't it? I think I should get shot of it once and for all and start again. With you."

I smiled.

"Let's do it." I said.

We made our plans.

I called Karen. I asked her and Matt to meet with me. I told them nothing of what had happened after they left me at the club and they assumed I had simply walked out of there because I said nothing to the contrary. But I did explain I was leaving, and asked to meet with them to say goodbye. I chose the venue but of course, I never turned up; now they would know what I really thought of them both.  While they waited in vain for me I was at home packing because it was Sunday and that was the day I had chosen to leave with Adrian.

When I got to the club house I threw my case in the back of his car and walked up the hill to the entrance.

Just as I got there the door opened and he came out.

He smiled at me. He seemed so much happier, so less haunted by the past now we had reached this decision together.

"Ready to go?" He asked me.

I nodded, feeling a glow as I looked at him that could only radiate from a person when they were in love.

Adrian had been worth waiting for. We were kindred souls and had everything to share, much love and above all else, absolute trust. We had a fabric that could never be torn apart and it wove us together, warm and contented.

Adrian stepped back from the doorway and tossed the empty petrol can into the club.

Then he took out the lighter, flipped the top and sparked the glowing flame. It danced through the air like a catherine wheel as he pitched it into the darkened corridor. Flame hit petrol and the place jumped to life, instantly ablaze, flames chasing up the walls and along the floor.

He closed the door and walked down the hill, a big smile on his face and without a single backwards glance. We got in the car and he started the engine.

As we drove away, we headed towards the straight, empty strip of road that was framed by the sleeping town, the sky was brightening now, the sun rising and warming, a breeze chasing away the stark clouds and revealing the promise of a blue sky.

Behind us a plume of black smoke was rising to cut through the postcard dawn, but it was insignificant because we were going forwards, on to a new life together, leaving the past as ash.

"You'll have to forget the myth now," Adrian said as we drove along, "I'm just a man now, no legends attached any more."

"I'm glad." I replied.

"I think I did everything right." Adrian said, "No prints anywhere, no clues left behind...”

"Karen and Matt?" I asked him.

"Tied up in the cellar." He told me, "I used a whole can of petrol down there and two for the rest of the place. Should be an inferno right about now."

And we looked at each other and exchanged a smile.

"Perfect." I said, "You thought of everything."

And we drove on, together, while the smoke rose behind us and the dawn broke beautifully up ahead.

We had everything - love, understanding, and most of all, trust. As we drove I knew this time it would be alright. I had met my match. A little bit of madness in the mix seemed to make us bonded even more. I knew we would go a long way together.

And we did.

The End