Read by Adam Ganne
There was not much time. Soon the edge of the water would push its way against the rocks that ran along the opening of the cave; that would be the first breach. Then the water would halt for a moment, or that’s how it would seem, before it found the line of least resistance. Simon had spent many happy hours imagining how it would happen, from the bottom up he thought, the water lapping its way, gently at first, making little fjords from the spaces between his toes, straddling the lines of his tendons, seeping through the gaps of his buttocks till at last it would find the little hollow beneath the bow of his chest. He smiled again. If he lay down, Simon knew, it would be over sooner, the pleasure more intense but then again, more fleeting. Simon pushed a hand into his pocket and laughed; memories of her... God, he was a lucky man. It was still only six o’clock but the sun was already at the crown of the cliffs. Drowning was a gentle way to die she had said as she turned. Simon closed his eyes. Yes, he squirmed, that was good. It made it even stronger when he thought of her like that, remembered the way she looked when she said things that way.
It was not that he thought her a beauty. If she was, he’d never really noticed it. It was more she had become wonderfully addictive, the sweat of her, the sounds from her. Simon shook his head. Even now he found it impossible to recall how it had started. It wasn’t as if they had discussed and decided on this or that course of action as opposed to any other. Certainly that’s not how Simon remembered it. It had been more of an impulse thing, something unexpected. Perhaps, Simon imagined, it was the way slapstick had evolved. Some cave men hanging out together, hunting mammoths or whatever it was they liked to eat, feeling tense, the hunger pangs urgent, each man focussed on the task ahead till one of them tripped and the rest realised that seeing someone making a fool of themselves, feeling bad, something as simple as seeing some poor fool falling on their arse had the potential to give them pleasure. It was as simple and natural as that, Simon thought.
At first they hadn’t given it a name. They hadn’t needed to. It was all pretty jokey; dressing up, wearing each other’s clothes, undies, that sort of thing. Then she had made a dressing up box for the children and had left it at the end of the bed where he could see. That had been enough for a while till eventually one of them, Simon was convinced it was her, had suggested it would be fun to take things a little further and she had added handcuffs, the helmet, the rope. Unusually they took turns. Most couples they had met on the S & M scene were rather set in their ways, a bit rigid, conventional it might be said in the roles they adopted. But like everything else, Simon was flexible, creative and of course, as a couple, they shared everything. Simon made sure of that. He wasn’t the kind of man to take his woman for granted. Simon prided himself on being a ‘new man’. He found as much satisfaction in being the doer as having things done and he was sure, absolutely certain in fact, that she felt the same. And after all, they were both consenting adults weren’t they? Where was the harm?
It took some time before it came to Simon’s notice that their games had become something of an addiction, that he had developed a taste for activities that might be called a bit left of field, you know, something that drew a little blood here, that left a bit of bruising on her skin there.
Alright, Simon accepted, he might be addicted but he had learnt to control it, he never let it go too far. There had to be a bottom line so to speak but thank goodness today, all those considerations, those petty constraints hadn’t got in the way. This particular game, this was one of hers, had been created from the bottom up, so to speak. Simon laughed, he liked it liked that. Perhaps that was it. He slipped a RIZLA from the packet and laid a careful line along the paper. Of course to an outsider, it might well sound a weak excuse but when he thought about it, really thought, Simon knew it was true; that part of her body held a fascination, it did something to him. Simon licked the edges of the joint, folding the pieces together, rolling the tip between his fingers before lighting the end. The first draw was always the best. Simon looked up. God, she was wonderful; he was a lucky man. This time he really couldn’t see where she was. There had been another time, Simon recalled with a twitching remembrance of pleasure, she had tried to hide at the window, where she thought he couldn’t see but she had spoiled it. Simon slipped his tongue across his upper lip. There had been the smallest tremble of the curtain, the slight swell where her bottom was protruding by the hem. Mind you, to be fair, she did have a good excuse; after all, how could anyone hide a behind like that? But he had shouted at her anyway because the thing was, why had she tried to? Such sloppy thinking! He had given her a good slapping for that, nothing too much, just enough to leave her smarting, a little love mark he told her, enough to make her beg, ‘Simon, no more please’. God, that had been particularly good, especially when she promised she would do better next time, that she would come up with something new and unexpected, something he was bound to adore. The expectation of it, the idea that she was busy devising some really special game just for his pleasure was exciting enough to keep the lid on things for quite some while. So he had waited and waited until one day, when he had almost given up hope, when he had started to think she must need another good session to get her creative juices working, she had suggested this game by the sea. Take the dressing up clothes she had said, bring a little dope, maybe even some coke, with a picnic of course. They could play with the rope. They could make love in the open, tie each other up, take turns and watch the tide come in with the sunset. Simon hadn’t given it a moment’s hesitation. She was a genius, Simon insisted as she prepared for the trip, a true genius. In fact he had got so carried away imagining what fun it would be he had said he loved her, loved her more even than when they first met because she made him feel so wonderfully loved for himself.
The water was licking his toes. Simon took a draw on the joint, the smoke sucked deep into his lungs. God she was right, this was something special; almost too much to bear, Simon smiled. What a clever girl. Now he was getting really wet. Soon the water would reach to his chest. It was time to let the adrenalin mingle with that warm-growing, sexy doped up feeling that he loved and then she would come, tell him she was sorry, beg him to let her take the ropes from his legs and they would run before the tide and climb the steps. Of course, he would be forced to speak sternly to her again, say something about safety, admonish her for letting the game go on a little too long this time and then he’d smack her, yes, he would have to teach her enough of a lesson this time so she’d scream and scream. It would be lovely.
The Games They Played by Jackie Walker was ready by Adam Ganne at the Liars' League Sex & The City event at The Wheatsheaf in London on Tuesday 10 November 2009
Jackie Walker joined her local writing group WOOA in Brockley five years ago and had her first book Pilgrim State published by Hodder in hardback 2008 and in paperback 2009. Pilgrim State, a family memoir narrated in four voices, won the Association for Social Policy award for Best Publication, 2009.
A LAMDA graduate, Adam Ganne has mainly worked in TV, film and voice-over work. Recent projects include the short Hard Hat by Karan Kandhari, voice-over work for Young Victoria and Hellboy 2, and the role of Paris in Romeo and Juliet at the Southwark Playhouse. Adam speaks German and Polish fluently - check out his website at www.adamganne.com
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