Betrayed (a story of love, lust and revenge) Read online

  The links were still coming through, her phone vibrating with every heart-stopping list. The internet was awash with her naked body, a body that, until Lenny, had only been seen by a handful of people.

  With trembling fingers she read all the messages, saw all the links. The lists stopped after eight or nine messages, she stopped counting. When the phone rang she instinctively answered it, unable to speak, barely able to breathe into the mouth piece.

  “Did you like that?” It was Lenny. He sounded drunk, happy, malicious. “I told you, bitch. You should--”

  She hung up. Turned her phone off, threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall, the sound echoed violently throughout the room, followed by a throat-tearing, ear piercing scream.

  3

  She always had a perfect body, through no real merit of her own. She never went to the gym, didn’t really pay attention to what she was eating. Her figure hadn’t changed since she was sixteen, but now she was putting on weight.

  She grabbed at the roll of fat around her midriff, poked and prodded it as if it was an alien being. She looked at the ice cream tub in her lap. It had sat there, equally poked and prodded, for a couple of hours. The chocolate concoction had melted into a brown sludge.

  She put it down on the floor, next to the other detritus, of which there were many: crisp packets, biscuit and chocolate wrappers. She was living in her own filth, eating a diet of toxic shit that was seemingly sticking to her, giving her fat in places she had never had fat. And then there was the alcohol. It was just wine at first, going through the bottles she had stored in the fridge and the cupboards, the ones given to her by the dick head who won’t be named, and the ones bought for her birthday and for Christmas by his friends. She didn’t really have any friends of her own, the ones she did have had drifted away when she devoted her time to Lenny. Once the wine was gone she had moved onto the vodka. Then she’d scraped together what money she could to buy some more. It was cheap and nasty, but it did the trick.

  A knock at the door interrupted her empty thoughts. She stared at the darkness of the room, at the nothingness and the filth. Then she heard the doorbell, once, twice, three times. Whoever it was they were persistent.

  She groaned heavily, dragged herself out of her chair. When she opened the door, blinked away the offending light, she saw a smiling man there. He didn’t look familiar, she hadn’t seen him before, but, judging by the grin on his face, he seemed to recognize her.

  “Hey, he said.

  She groaned.

  “I’m Andrew. Your neighbor?”

  She frowned, remembered the eyes through the fence the other day, or week. She couldn’t remember when it was but she remembered him and his voice.

  “What do you want?”

  He hesitated, seemed to get stuck in his words. She watched him as he fumbled. He was young, twenty-five or twenty-six, not much older than her. He had short hair, a buzz-cut that failed to expose his color. He was neatly shaved; deep cheek bones; thin lips. He looked perpetually nervous, but she thought it was cute, then she hated herself for thinking that. She remembered Lenny, remembered how great she used to think he was as well.

  “What do you want?” she repeated, interrupting his mumblings.

  “I just came over to see how you were?”

  She looked bemused. “Excuse me?”

  He smiled a shy smile, ran a hand through his bristly hair. He looked away from her, down at the floor, as he spoke. “I’ve seen you around. I mean, not in a stalking way,” he laughed, looked at her, coughed, cleared his throat. “You seem to go out quite a bit, and then, well, you didn’t.” He raised his eyes to meet hers. She saw a softness behind them. She suddenly felt very self conscious in her dirty, stinking clothes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I haven’t seen you around, haven’t heard from you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That you weren’t lying dead, or--” he paused, changed his words. “That sounds horrible. I don’t mean dead, I --”

  “Thank you,” she said honestly.

  “Excuse me?” the nervous, bumbling man said.

  “Thank you,” she repeated. “But I’m fine.” She closed the door. She saw him through the glass, still standing there, running his nervous hand through his hair, mumbling to himself. Then he left and retuned to her hovel, feeling a little happier.

  She saw him again in the garden the next day, his face poking through the fence to wish her a good morning. She smiled at him, mumbled something in return, suddenly shy in his presence. He was cute, there was something very affable and pleasant about him.

  “How are you today?” Andrew asked. “Feeling better?”

  She was. It didn’t matter what Lenny had done, she had cried, eaten and drank that out of her system. So what if a couple of hundred perverts had seen her pictures? There was nothing she could do about it. What annoyed her more than that, more than all those perverts masturbating over her without consent, was the fact that Lenny had done it to hurt her when she had done nothing to him. She had finished him, but she had her reasons, what he did was pure malice, pure evil and that was what annoyed her more than anything. She would like to get her revenge, would like to humiliate him like he tried to do with her, would like to make him suffer like she had suffered, but she knew that she just needed to let him go. There was nothing she could do except incite more damage, he still had her pictures, if she left him alone he might not do anything more, if she started a war, he might start printing flyers and posting them through her neighbor's doors--

  Her heart caught in her throat as she wondered if he’d already done that. She looked towards the street just as a young lad walked by, his trousers halfway down his legs, earphones stuck in his ears. He looked up at her, noticed the worried expression on her face with curiosity and then turned away, disinterested. She got the same reaction from a young mother on the other side of the street.

  She breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he hadn’t sunk that low just yet.

  “Are you okay?”

  She turned to the fence. Her neighbor was standing on his tiptoes to see over, staring at her with a worried expression. “You seemed distant for a moment there,” he noted.

  “I’m fine,” she smiled, walking towards him. “Just tired.”

  He seemed happy as she approached and looked up at him, her arms folded, a pleasant expression on her face. She liked him, didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed him before. He was very cute.

  “So, what have you got planned today?” he wondered.

  She shrugged. She had planned to eat more shit and get drunk. The thought depressed her and the smile ebbed away. She became self conscious of her body, wondering if her noticed the extra rings of flab that she was sure were wrapping around her waist like fleshy tires.

  “Do you fancy going for a walk?” he asked hopefully, noting her displeased expression. “You look like you could use some fresh air, some cheering up.”

  “Cheering up?” she quizzed.

  He nodded assuredly. “I may not look it, but I’m hilarious,” he said as dryly as he could.

  Sammy couldn’t help but grin. “Okay,” she said with a nod. “Let me get showered and changed and we can go.”

  He gave her a joking salute, dipped back below the fence and watched as she disappeared into her house.

  ***

  They went for a walk down town, around the shops and through the park. She really liked him and when they arrived back home she let him kiss her, let him move his hand to her backside. when it was there, she suddenly felt very self conscious, started picturing all the perverts that had seen that backside, all the perverts that had seen and judged her breasts, currently pressed against Andrew’s chest.

  She pulled away, tried and failed to hide a strained look on her face. “I’ve got to go,” she said.

  “Oh, okay,” he looked disappointed but he let her go.

  She hated herself when she was on her own, didn’t realize just how much Lenny
’s actions had caused her to worry. A part of her knew that not many people would have seen her, and even for those who had it didn’t matter, the world was a big place and the internet covered most of it, the chances of anyone who knew her seeing those photographs were slim, especially as she didn’t know or interact with that many people, but it still got to her.

  She struggled to sleep that night. When the doubts left her and sleep felt like it would come, she began to think about what she had done to Andrew, about how she might have blown a chance to be with someone who was actually a decent human being, someone who wouldn’t dream of doing the things that Lenny had done.

  She didn’t see him as she had seen Lenny, didn’t see him as a potential way out of her dead-end life. He didn’t have the money that Lenny did, didn’t have the degree of comfort, but she no longer cared. After what had happened, after she had seen just how evil and cruel people could be, she decided that she was happy in her horrible house on the horrible street, as long as she could spend her time with someone who wasn’t horrible.

  She knew she had to make it up to Andrew, if she ever saw him again, which she doubted.

  4

  She went around to see Andrew the next day. She dressed up, tried to look as good as she could while still trying to look like she hadn’t tried. She wore a big jumper to hide her body but she spent an hour fixing her hair and doing her makeup. He was surprised to see her when he answered the door, she delighted in the way his dimpled face lit up when he looked at her.

  He invited her in. His house was the same as hers but he had looked after it much better. A number of paintings and framed newspaper clippings hung on the walls, a large television dominated one corner of the main room; a stereo system in the other. He made her a cup of coffee, nestled down beside her and seemed lost for how to converse, she helped him along.

  “What are the newspaper clippings?” she asked.

  His smiled broadened. He put down his cup of coffee and stood up, moving over to the wall where the clippings sat in polished frames. “This was my first publication,” he said, pointing to one that seemed to take pride of place in the center of the wall. “It was just an article for a local magazine, only paid a tenner, but that was when I knew I wanted to be a writer.”

  “You’re a writer?”

  He nodded shyly, as if afraid to admit it.

  “I dabble,” he admitted.

  “How long have you been doing that?”

  He shrugged, “A few years.” He directed her attention to another few clippings. “Most of them are short stories and articles like these, but I’m working on a novel.”

  She was impressed and a little surprised. “Can I read some of your stuff?” she ventured. “I don’t read a lot,” she admitted, “but I would like to have a look. If that’s okay.”

  “Sure!” he seemed delighted. “You have the internet, right?”

  She felt a stab of regret in her heart. She did have it but she tried not to use it, hadn’t been online since she had received the messages from Lenny.

  Andrew noticed the sudden drop in her features. “Is everything okay?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

  “It’s fine,” she lied, trying to brush off the memory. She stood, “I think I should be going.” She looked to the clock, pretending that she had something important to do. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  He put a hand on her, stopped her before she left. “Please, Sammy, if something’s wrong… tell me.”

  She saw the empathy in his eyes, felt the warmth of his touch and his smile. She didn’t want to tell him incase he thought of her as a whore, but she couldn’t stop herself from kissing him, from sinking into his love and his warmth and letting her worries, her thoughts of Lenny and what he had done, drift away.

  They stayed locked in that kiss for what felt like an age, Sammy would have been happy to stay there, her troubles gone, her pain reduced to an abyss of pleasure, but when she felt his hand on her backside, felt him edge her gently towards him, she desired something more.

  She ran her hand down the curve of his back, lifting up his jumper and stroking the flesh before digging her fingers in, turning up the heat. She kissed him, thrust her tongue into his mouth. She felt his hand move up her back, sliding under the ticklish flesh that traced up the curve of her spine to her bra strap, which he unhooked. She flinched as he did so, worried that it would lead to her taking off her top, showing him her body, showing him what the world had seen.

  She felt herself being pushed backwards as he guided her to the couch. She broke away from him in a breathless release, stared at his hungry eyes. He moved forward, to kiss her again, she stopped him by pressing a finger to his lips. She bent down then, removed his belt and peeled his jeans down over his thighs, letting his cock flop out. He was well endowed, his thick, pulsing dick a good size bigger than Lenny’s and, at that moment, far more desirable. She traced her fingers teasingly down the shaft, felt and watched it throb and pulse under her touch, twitching as it begged for stimulation.

  She kissed the tip. He had showered recently and tasted of a lightly scented shower gel, mixed in with a natural must. She grabbed it, it felt good in her palm, strong. She coaxed it, played with it, stretching his skin slowly as she felt it pulse and twitch. He was desperate, eager. She took him in her mouth, he was to big to go deep so she hung onto the end, waited until her mouth was lubricated, until her jaw loosened, before going further down, feeling him deep inside her mouth, against the back of her tongue.

  She pulled him out, didn’t want him to finish too soon, not before he had done his job. His eyes were alight when she straightened up, he was ready. He lay her down and kissed her, tasting himself on her lips. Then he went down on her. He knew what he was doing, worked slowly and carefully at first, until her juices were flowing, until her body begged for more, then he kissed her clit, gently ran his teeth, then his tongue, over it, before lapping at it like a thirsty cat. When he began to use his fingers, slipping them inside her, one at first, then two, three, she slipped into delirium, no longer cared about her body, about her breasts or her stomach. She wanted him regardless.

  He stopped before she came, lifted her jumper up over her head and then looked down with amazement at her body. “You have an amazing body,” he said, pausing to kiss each of her breasts, her nipples and her stomach. “This is what you’ve been hiding from me?” he grinned, slowly shaking his head, then the desire took over. He ripped off his own sweatshirt, pressed himself up again her, their bodies tight, their hot flesh sandwiched together.

  He took her breast in his hand, squeezed gently, lifted his kiss from her, then he entered her and her oblivion switched to a new dimension. He fucked her quick and hard, clasping her breast tight in his left hand, pressing his right against her hip. She came seconds before he did, her body jolting and rocking, her eyes staring through him, through the ceiling, into the beyond.

  She felt his hips kick forward when he came, felt him shoot his load inside her. He slumped on top of her, both of them were out of breath, both of them spent. He remained inside her, growing slowly flaccid, his sperm dribbling down the lips of her vagina, down her legs. They didn’t say a word, she merely stared upwards, a smile on her face; he stared into the couch, equally content.

  ***

  They waited ten minutes and then did it again. They were slower the second time, concentrating on looking into each others’ eyes as he drilled deep into her.

  He made her another drink after that. Then, after the coffee, they started on the wine. He ordered some pizza and they whiled away the evening eating and talking. She went home early, tired and not wanting to drink too much incase she spilled her guts to him, something she didn’t feel comfortable doing.

  He gave her the web address for her to see his work. She felt relaxed enough to sign online and see his stuff, so, after showering and changing into her night clothes, she did just that.

  She felt nervous as she signed on, worried that the internet wa
s going to point at her, call her fat and ugly, judge her for being a whore now that her body was available for the world to see. The alcohol in her system took some of the edge away and she tried to ignore the rest as she signed on and began to type the URL into the address bar.

  Then she noticed her email icon on the toolbar, noticed the red number beside it which indicated how many new unread messages she had. It climbed to twenty, then thirty, all in the space of a few seconds after it logged on and began to pull emails down. She frowned at it, she had never had more than a few emails a day and those were usually spam. She had been offline for a while, but that was a lot of spam.

  It continued to rise, climbing to over one-hundred and twenty before it stopped. With trembling fingers, not sure what she would find but fearful that Lenny had tried to destroy her life even more, she clicked onto the mail icon.

  There were a lot of names she didn’t recognize, but Lenny was also there. She clicked his first message, hoping to get him out of the way first, knowing that he was the problem. She read it with a heavy heart: