And he fucked her. He fucked her until she hammered with her fists on the table and a Royal Doulton cup and saucer joined the broken crystal on the floor. The dogs howled. Laura howled. When she sensed that Ray was about to come, she pulled him closer and said, “Bite me.”
And he bit her.
“I really think we should have that dog put down,” said Lloyd after dinner that evening. “For God’s sake, biting you like that. It could have given you rabies or something.”
“Don’t be silly. Big Ears isn’t in the least bit rabid. It was an accident, that’s all. I was just a bit too rough with him.”
“It’s the thin end of the wedge. Next time it’ll be the postman, or some kid in the street. Think what’ll happen then.”
“We are not having Big Ears put down, and that’s final. I’ll be more careful in future.”
“You just make sure you are.” Lloyd paused, then asked, “Have you thought any more about that other matter I mentioned?”
Oh God, Laura thought, not again. Lloyd hated their house, hated the Beaches, hated Toronto. He wanted to sell up and move to Vancouver, live in Kitsilano or out on Point Grey. No matter that it rained there 364 days out of every year and all you could get to eat was sushi and alfalfa sprouts. Laura didn’t want to live in Lotus Land. She was happy where she was. Even happier since that afternoon.
As Lloyd droned on and on, she drifted into pleasant reminiscences of Ray’s body on hers, the hard, sharp edges of his white teeth as they closed on the soft part of her neck. They had done it again, up in the bed this time, her and Lloyd’s bed. It was slower, less urgent, more gentle, but if anything, it was even better. She could still remember the warm ripples and floods of pleasure, like breaking waves running up through her loins and her belly, and she could feel a pleasant soreness between her legs even now, as she sat listening to Lloyd outline the advantages of moving the post-production company to Vancouver. Plenty of work there, he said. Hollywood connections. But if they moved, she would never see Ray again. It seemed more imperative than ever now to put a stop to it. She had to do something.
“I really don’t want to talk about it, darling,” she said.
“You never do.”
“You know what I think of Vancouver.”
“It doesn’t rain that much.”
“It’s not just that. It’s... Oh, can’t we leave it be?”
Lloyd put his hand up. “All right,” he said. “All right. Subject closed for tonight.” He got up and walked over to the drinks cabinet. “I feel like a cognac.”
Laura had that sinking feeling. She knew what was coming.
“Where is it?” Lloyd asked.
“Where is what, darling?”
“My snifter, my favorite brandy snifter. The one my father bought me.”
“Oh, that,” said Laura, remembering the shattered glass she had swept up from the hardwood floor. “I meant to tell you. I’m sorry, but there was an accident. The dishwasher.”
Lloyd turned to look at her in disbelief. “You put my favorite crystal snifter in the dishwasher?”
“I know. I’m sorry. I was in a hurry.”
Lloyd frowned. “A hurry? You? What do you ever have to be in a hurry about? Walking the bloody dog?”
Laura tried to laugh it off. “If only you knew half the things I had to do around the place, darling.”
Lloyd continued to look at her. His eyes narrowed. “You’ve had quite a day, haven’t you?” he said.
Laura sighed. “I suppose so. It’s just been one of those days.”
“This’ll have to do then,” he said, pouring a generous helping of Remy into a different crystal snifter.
It was just as good as the one she had broken, Laura thought. In fact, it was probably more expensive. But it wasn’t his. It wasn’t the one his miserable old bastard of a father, God rot his soul, had bought him.
Lloyd sat down and sipped his cognac thoughtfully. The next time he spoke, Laura could see the way he was looking at her over the top of his glass. That look. “How about an early night?” he said.
Laura’s stomach lurched. She put her hand to her forehead. “Oh, not tonight, darling. I’m sorry, but I have a terrible headache.”
She didn’t see Ray for nearly a week and she was going crazy with fear that he’d left town, maybe gone to Hollywood to be a star, that he’d just used her and discarded her the way men did. After all, they had only been together the once, and he hadn’t told her he loved her or anything. All they had done was fuck. They didn’t really know one another at all. They hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers. She just had this absurd feeling that they were meant for each other, that it was destiny. A foolish fantasy, no doubt, but one that hurt like a knife jabbing into her heart every day she didn’t see him.
Then one day, there he was at the beach again, as if he’d never been away. The dogs greeted each other like long lost friends while Laura tried to play it cool as lust burned through her like a forest fire.
“Hello, stranger,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Ray said. “A job came up. Shampoo commercial. On-the-spot decision. Yes or no. I had to work on location in Niagara Falls. You’re not mad at me, are you? It’s not as if I could phone you and let you know or anything.”
“Niagara Falls? How romantic.”
“The bride’s second great disappointment.”
“What?”
“Oscar Wilde. What he said.”
Laura giggled and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, I see.”
“I’d love to have taken you with me. I know it wouldn’t have been a disappointment for us. I missed you.”
Laura blushed. “I missed you too. Want a cold beer?”
“Look,” said Ray, “why don’t we go to my place. It’s only a top floor flat, but it’s air-conditioned, and...”
“And what?”
“Well, you know, the neighbors...”
Laura couldn’t tell him this, but she had gotten such an incredible rush out of doing it with Ray in her own bed that she couldn’t stand the thought of going to his flat, no matter how nice and cool it was. Though she had changed and washed the sheets, she imagined she could still smell him when she lay her head down for the night, and now she wanted her bed to absorb even more of him.
“Don’t worry about the neighbors,” she said. “They’re all out during the day anyway, and the nannies have to know how to be discreet if they want to stay in this country.”
“Are you sure?”
“Perfectly.”
And so it went on. Once, twice, sometimes three times a week, they went back to Laura’s big house on Silver Birch. Sometimes they couldn’t wait to get upstairs, so they did it on the dining room table like the first time, but mostly they did it in the king-size bed, becoming more and more adventurous and experimental as they got to know one another’s bodies and pleasure zones. Laura found a little pain quite stimulating sometimes, and Ray didn’t mind obliging. They sampled all the positions and all the orifices, and when they had exhausted them, they started over again. They talked too, a lot, between bouts. Laura told Ray how unhappy she was with her marriage, and Ray told her how his ex-wife had ditched him for his accountant because his career wasn’t exactly going in the same direction as Russell Crowe’s, as his bank account made abundantly clear.
Then one day, when they had caught their breath after a particularly challenging position that wasn’t even in the Kama Sutra, Laura said, “Lloyd wants to move to Vancouver. He won’t stop going on about it. And he never gives up until he gets his way.”
Ray turned over and leaned on his elbow. “You can’t leave,” he said.