Elizabeth 339 Ch. 02 - New Beginnings

I raise an eyebrow and take the folder, opening it to a picture of myself and Susan and Lisa in the park before I had even been to the club.

"How? I hadn't even..."

"Oh we've been watching you for a while. You're an interesting sort of person Joe. Since you took on the theatre work to be precise. I've no desire to confuse you but please don't pry too deeply, you'll frustrate yourself. All things in time."

I flick through birth certificates and marriage licences, apprenticeship papers and news clippings.

"I'd like to hire your P.I. from time to time, he's certainly very thorough."

"Perhaps, but all of this is nothing Joe Smith. It's a skeleton, just bones on which you hang a life. Who are you really? You were born to Joseph Aubrey and Josephine Kelly. He was a police officer among other things. Your mother though was truly interesting. Did you know of her work in the media? Ironic really, given her own domestic situation, but she was published extensively and became synonymous with women's rights. Educated too. Masters in philosophy, a research doctorate..."

She hands me a photograph of a beautiful dark haired woman with a vibrant smile and mischief in her eyes. I assume it is my mother before she was married. She is wearing a dark gown and a mortar board hat. The young man beside her is easily recognisable as my father. Evil shines malignant in his eyes.

"Such a terrible man. I've read police reports. There's more than a few." She searches through them and hands me one in particular.

"Interestingly, our own investigator picked up something your fathers colleagues must have missed."

"Dear Elizabeth, I'd like to draw your attention to a glaring anomaly which perhaps escaped police attention but I think more likely, one which was deliberately overlooked given the obvious tragedy. The shotgun is a competition gun with double thirty-inch barrels and an adjustable length of pull. Casual inspection alone without bothering to measure would suggest it completely impossible to put the barrels in one's own mouth and still be able to reach the trigger. Please see attached observations chart obtained from St Anthony's hospital and draw your own conclusion, as have I. Regards, J."

Involuntarily, I rub my shoulder remembering the pain. "I told them at the time."

"I'm sure you did and perhaps it's for the best."

"I'd shoot him again. I wish I'd shot him sooner."

"Nonetheless, that's quite a thing for a seven year old child. I never want to know how it feels to hate or fear someone so much I have to shoot them. I can't imagine how a child would cope with that... He was undoubtedly an evil man, Joe Smith." She tastes my name, pronouncing it carefully. "Is 'Smith' a choice, a request for anonymity, a placeholder?"

"At the time, I thought on using my Mother's name, 'Kelly' but I wanted to forget where I came from. 'Smith' seemed to let me vanish. Everyone knows a Smith from somewhere. I could be anyone from any town."

She continues to peel layers from me, deconstructing my identity. "The orphanage... I know others who were wards there. I'm sorry you had to live through that place after everything else."

"It was..." words fail me. I stare at the table. I feel naked, unmasked.

"I've heard all about what it was before. I don't need to hear again unless you need to speak about it. Those children I lived with, the runaways, more than one of them had been a ward of St Patricks at some point."

We've reached a stale point in our conversations. I have no idea where Elizabeth is going with this and a boggy inner cauldron of filth has been stirred to bubbling. My coffee is empty and I look far out past the boats to the horizon.

"Did you ever wonder?"

"Wonder what?"

"What it would be like. To board a ship and just take off?"

"In many ways I did I guess. I took an apprenticeship, you would know that obviously..." I gesture offhand at the folder. She's closed it away and watches me with eyes that hint at tenderness and concern. "Each new life I tried on was a journey of escape, a chance to recreate myself until eventually I became something that was thoroughly removed from everywhere I'd come from."

"A baker, no less. Then a banker, then a husband, then an adulterer, then a businessman, then a husband again, but ultimately... you are only what you want others to see. Who is Joe Smith really? Is he a good man? Does he even exist? Does he even know?"

"Not really." I grimace and make eye-contact - does she mock me? "I, the truth... Really, I don't know. I know who I was, I know where I've been and 'what' I've been. I know what people think I am and what I let them see but the truth is I have been so busy not being Joseph Aubrey that I don't really know who Joe Smith is."

She takes my hand across the table and squeezes it warmly. "I just know that I'm pleased to meet you Joe Smith. My name is Beatrice Gualtierre."

Realisation comes slowly like dawn light into a valley and she smiles as it creeps across my face. "Yes, Joe. That Gualtierre."

She rises and for a moment I think she is leaving. She straightens her skirt and smiles awkwardly then excuses herself, "If you'll give me just a moment Joe, I'm afraid even the Mayor's wife feels the effects of too much caffeine."

I watch her walk toward the café and chat with ponytail then she disappears inside. Alone, I try to pull shreds of myself back together around me. People aren't supposed to get this close to me. They aren't supposed to know these things; for god's sake not even Lisa knows it was I that pulled the trigger. I just saw my mother lying there, her beautiful face that used to smile at me like I was the centre of the world, all gone. A horrible mask of blood and hate left there instead. My father lay drunk and passed out in the chair across from her holding the gun. Who would stand between us now when he drank? Who would I run to afterwards? Who would love me now? I was still holding the gun when they arrived; sitting on the floor nursing my dislocated shoulder watching my father's brains slide slowly down the tongue and groove wall behind him.

My demons for the most part have departed when she returns. I rise and cock the chair for her then sit again myself.

"So instructions. Information and annotations. Another party has taken something of an interest in your introduction to the club. Ordinarily, as your sponsor, I'd assist you arrange costume, mask and play name and brief you on rules and etiquette but it seems I've been," she searches for a word, smiling saucily to herself, "unhorsed... I'll assist you with rules and etiquette, explaining as we go but a few things first. We refer to 339 Elizabeth Street to other members as 'the club' or 'Elizabeths', we do not under any circumstances refer to it all when speaking with non-members. An existing member may introduce a new person to the first three rooms but no further by way of offering them a card and letting them make their own way. There are many who only ever know of the first three rooms."

"When a member wants to take someone further, they must get nominations from two other members. I can see your mind ticking over... I was one, Susan another and a member who insists on her anonymity, the third. All members wear a mask and a costume to protect their identity even if their true identity is known already to other members. In your case this mask and a suitable costume have been decided upon already by your three sponsors. So no shopping for us Joe Smith and I was all excited about cruising adult stores with you."

"You will be presented to the mistress as a debutante on Friday evening and then a grace period applies in which members may raise objections to your membership. When this period expires your membership is decided. How are you doing with all of this? I'm sorry to dump information on you but at least one of your sponsors will be with you at all times if you have questions... So questions Joe?"

"Well no, not really. It sounds quite simple, a bit like joining the country club but with sex and whips."

"Haha," she graces me with one of those Nigela Lawson laughs that make you blush and horny at the same time. "And some paperwork. There is an important checklist in relation to - um... preferences which I'm interested in reading. I think I've mostly worked you out but it will confirm my suspicions I believe. You've appointments this afternoon as well, and I'm keeping you. It's almost two pm."

"So much ado about noting..." I offer and she smirks. Ponytail boy approaches with a bill on a saucer and places it on the table.

"Thankyou," I tell him, handing him a credit card."

"Oh, one last detail. A 'nom de jouer'. You are not to be given a play name. For now you are Joe."

"Okay?"

"I have instructions that Joe is anonymous enough. Later perhaps you could be 'Benedick' to my Beatrice, as I originally hoped." She completes our Shakespearian aside.

She stands and I follow her cue.

"It's customary to shake Mrs Gaultierre's hand and her close friends sometime kiss her on the cheek." She suggests.

I offer my hand and taking it she pulls me close enough to kiss my cheek. I'm smiling like a shy schoolboy as she whispers in my ear, "Elizabeth is quite looking forward to more informal contact soon."

"Ahem..." flustered I attempt composure.

"Bye for now Joe Smith, I'll see if I can learn anything new..." She gestures to her book.

"Bye, Mrs Gaultierre."

"Beatrice will do."

"Beatrice..."

With her name tasting new and real on my lips, I leave along the boardwalk. My watch tells me I have more than fifteen minutes so I walk the four blocks to my doctors' offices wondering what fresh delights Friday night will bring.

The doctor's waiting room is quietly bustling with the same frantic silence that fills university libraries. People come and go from little rooms. They cough and smell and creep me out with the germs I imagine trailing in the air behind them.

An ageless, petite blonde woman calls my name in a sing-song lilt and ushers me to a stark white room with a single window out over the city. A desk faces the window and two chairs fight over whether I should sit or stand while I wait. I examine all the doctor props; a giant plastic gel capsule, a model of a shoulder joint, various paraphernalia on public health matters and a gentle cough behind me announces my doctor.

"Joe. Take a seat. We've recently done all of this." He flicks through the assembled paperwork. "Do you have specific concerns? Was there an incident of some sort?"

"No James, a slight lifestyle change that requires new tests."

He eyes me above his spectacles, "A change on your behalf or your wife's behalf?"

"Mine."

I'm grateful for his candour. It was spectacularly difficult to negotiate my initial consultation with him some years ago when Lisa and I first opened up our marriage.

"I don't pretend to understand your marriage Joe, it wouldn't suit me. Well, it wouldn't suit my wife mostly but I do applaud your attention to your health... These will just require a single blood test and I'll have them back to you by close of business tomorrow."

I roll up my sleeve and he takes my blood pressure, checks my pulse and stabs me with a needle of veterinarian proportions, sucking what looks like half a cup of blood that should still be inside of me to the outside of me.

"Joe."

"Joe."

"Joe."

"Ah, you're with me. You do that every time. You really should lie down when I take blood."

"Hmmm. Sorry, don't know why it happens." I've passed out on him briefly and my head is still quite dizzy.

He places a hand on the back of my head and pushes, "Pop your head down here for a moment, Joe."

I do so and the stars clear from my eyes. "I bet you say that to all your patients Doc..."

"When you're ready wise guy... You want I should get the desk to call a car for you?"

In the cab on the way back to my office, I flick through Elizabeth's / Beatrice's questionnaire.

"I like receiving pain during sex." Hell no. That's a five.

"I like to make decisions about what occurs during sex for my partner." Maybe, but not all the time. I give it a two.

The quiz is similar to the psych tests I inflict on employees, with questions, then counter questions to try and identify orientations and preferences. I make marks in boxes and can't help thinking what a terribly blunt tool it is to try and diagnose such a complex thing as ones sexuality.

I'm tempted to fill it in misleadingly for humours sake, but hesitate. A mental picture of myself strapped to Susan's doctor's chair with an electrode up my arse prompts me to give better consideration to some of my more flippant answers.

Lisa and I flick through the quiz that evening while we watch late television and the children sleep upstairs.

"Don't sweat on it lover, most clubs have them or something like them just to make sure people identify and communicate their interests and limits."

"You've filled these in before?"

"Sure."

"I'd like to see yours."

"It won't tell you anything I don't. I'm bi, dominant, switch from active to passive depending on my partner and mood, and I don't do anal, don't do blood."

I'm annoyed for some reason. I don't understand if its jealousy at my wife's extra-marital sexuality or frustration with being placed in a box.

"You do so do anal."

"Only at home lover. Girls got to save something for the marriage bed..."

"Oh..."

"What they don't prepare you for, is exactly how delicious it is watch a playmate evolve and grow. To see how your sex changes you both over time."

"I've never really thought about it. I don't think I've ever known anyone long enough, or maybe just not paid much attention... We agreed not form relationships. "

"That's the thing though, it's always a relationship, even it is only overnight."

"I guess."

"I get bored of them eventually anyway. Six months is the longest I've been able to remain interested. I thought she would last a lot longer but she went her own way."

"I would have asked sooner but I've been coming to terms with things; Is this something you would like us to do together?"

She watches me intently obviously considering my question fully. "For the time being, I am simply enjoying the changes in you. Part of what makes our arrangement work is a separation of worlds. Home remains home, you and I remain insulated from complication. I think for now we may be safer changing as little else as possible to give you more room to explore these new things without compromising your base."

Some disappointment must register on my face. She brushes my cheek with her hand, "I wish very much to share this new world of yours later on when you are ready. It has always been something I wanted to share. For now though, I think I'd cramp your style or limit your experience."

She falls asleep beside me on the couch watching late television as I complete my quiz and sip scotch whiskey. As I watch her sleeping, I understand her need to protect the familiar comfort and sanctuary of our relationship.

My week continues with that drawn out pace that baffles schoolchildren waiting for holidays and birthday parties. I am thankful for the mundane machinations and so lost in the distraction of deadlines and duties that it is early afternoon on Thursday before I notice the fine silver necklace around Susan's neck.

"Your two pm appointment is here Joe."

"Thankyou Susan, or is it Heather today?" I see a faint smile twitch in the corner of her lips.

"Whichever you need, boss." She watches me carefully seeking cues.

"Max is early. Strip!" I say it firmly and a little too loud.

"Shh Joe..." She glances toward door and her desk and waiting room beyond as she begins removing clothes.

"You will not speak again until I say you may. Understood?"

"Yes..."

Whack! I slap her naked arse viciously, raising a welt and bringing a moan to her lips. She mimes zipping her lips as she rubs her derriere. I make my way to the door as she finishes undressing.

"Max, I'll be with you in a few moments." I poke my head around the door and address the city councilman. "I've got a few er... kinks to work out." I smile at my private joke. I need this meeting to go well. He is the last vote on the restoration project that I need to get past the ridiculous heritage restrictions.

"Sure, I'm a little early anyway. I'll make some calls while I wait."

"Thankyou."

As I close the door, I'm struck by the sudden absurdity of Susan's nudity against the office setting. She looks a little uncomfortable standing idly naked in the centre of the room so I leave her doing exactly that for a moment.

I am confused momentarily by a feeling of responsibility for her. Her pleasure, my pleasure, her safety all trusted to me in this instant is both exhilarating and humbling. My cock however is quite singular in his attentions and strains at my trousers. Susan sees and licks her lips.

"Not yet Heather. You may however join me at my desk. Crawl to me."

And crawl she does; cat-like, waving an imaginary tail behind her with her eyes hungrily on my crotch she crosses the carpeted floor all but purring. "You're quite commanding, Joe. You have been reading up maybe?"

"And you are quite disobedient, I thought I told you not to speak."

"Perhaps I'm in it for the punishment."

She arches her back and rubs her hips along my leg then stretches up to nuzzle against my hard dick. A flood of real anger surprises me. It courses from the depths of me into a sudden grab at her hair and I struggle to reel my fury in. Tangled in her hair, my fist clenches and pushes her face down away from me, stuffing her into the alcove under my desk. Red mist clears from my eyes and I see a hint of fear reflected in her face.

"Now we're getting somewhere." She teases from under the desk. "I see I'm going to have to be a very naughty girl to get you wound up to my speed."

Whack! I slap her naked arse again. Bridled fury leaving a plain white welt with red finger outlines on her ivory rump. "Stay there you teasing bitch. I'll be back shortly."

I stalk to the door, perhaps this anger might be the weight on the balance which tips Max's scales.

"Max, join me now!" His eyes betray a little surprise at my tone but to his credit he assumes a dignified mask as I show him in to my office. I gesture to a chair in front of my desk not two feet from where a naked Susan kneels on all fours. I can just see her fingers on the carpet in the slight gap between the desk front and the floor.

"So, Joe." He begins as I move to stand behind my desk. For a moment I can see him capitulate on what he believes is my embarrassment for my bold greeting; the lowering of my eyes which he has misread as I drink in Susan's naked arse and the two slender fingers she is masturbating on. "I understand if you are becoming impatient but we simply must insist on..."

Whack! I bring the wooden ruler down hard on Susan's arse. From where he sits he thinks I slap my thigh with it. From where Susan writhes beneath my desk still fucking her fingers, the small increments of ruler are visible on her skin. Her buttocks clench and her arsehole puckers with the pain and I'm impressed that she did not cry out.

I have his attention and I sit grimacing at him across the desk as I soothingly rub the firm white arse beneath my desk. She pushes back against my hand seeking its rough caress on the reddened stripe.

"Max. I'm done talking back and forth with you. What is it you want?"

"Want? Nothing, we seek to uphold heritage value and aesthetics and..."

Whack! I slap one hand on the desk top and the other on Susan's bare arse and pussy. I hold my hand hard against her arse where I've hit, pushing the pain of it into her and my index finger rudely into her sloppy wet cunt.