CHAPTER 8
Dreams and drugs
V had meant it when he'd uttered a plain word; soon. He'd spent the last week trying to digest what had happened but in reality he was still on overload so an abstract concept such as "soon" could well imply days or weeks. It had taken him over an hour just to get up from the rug and walk, something he was proud of since for a minute he thought he'd have to crawl all the way to his room, something he found quite undesirable.
That torture session kept playing in his head in amazing colors and kept him awake for the next forty eight hours. He could recall not only images and sounds but with a little effort it was easy to add vivid recollections of his physical and emotional reactions in such a way that it was almost like being there again.
Sometimes he'd relive it from beginning to end in almost real time, using his hands to mimic as closely as possible what Evey had done to his body once she'd stopped tickling him. Sometimes select moments were explored with further detail over and over because he'd found something there that was either very pleasant or disturbing, all in an effort to assimilate it and control it.
He'd grown used to indulging on favorite sequences he'd reward himself with after finding and defusing what made him uncomfortable and he couldn't help elaborating on what he could remember, which only multiplied and enriched his sessions of self-pleasuring.
He'd also tried to draw reliable mental maps based on Evey's body language hoping to fall within her and see and feel things from her perspective but his own sensations were still too distracting to attempt it successfully. He was used to reading people like that; he could feel to some degree what they were feeling, based on the way they moved, the sound of their voices, dozens of other little things that betrayed their inner worlds. Usually it was a matter of life or death and he had to calculate with absolute precision what the opponent would do. Being fast wasn't enough; he needed a focus and a reason to move.
Evey confused him regardless of how obvious her flirting seemed to be, no doubt one of the inconveniences of being the focus of her attention. The trees did not let him see the forest. He'd have to wait to practice that sort of empathy stunt no matter how curious he could be but from what he'd been able to read on the first layer, she had thoroughly enjoyed it, which improved the chances of having another exchange of similar –if not more intense- potential. Early on he wondered if he had behaved properly and then it worried him not to be fluent on such protocol. He thought it wouldn't be polite to ask Evey about such things and couldn't remember if any of his precious books explored that subject.
He wasn't sleeping as many hours as he should but when he managed to, he'd dream. His dreams had changed as well; instead of taking place in her room everything would move to his own bedroom, where bears and dolls were not allowed, except as silent witnesses. He could see those two sitting on top of the armoire, seeing and hearing everything like surveillance cameras. They did not move or make a sound but they still seemed to be very much alive, enjoying the show. V almost expected them to boo or applaud.
While awake he usually tried to keep up with his schedule and devote the rest of his time to recall everything as it had happened but his dreams expanded and modified real events, taking them farther. Those dreams were not really trying to deliver a message; their goal was to show him some sort of menu of things he might like to try in the future and he had already taken careful notes, just in case. Even on this his mind was focused on blueprints and logistics.
V could recall five or six different "scripts" already and although they were all different, there were common elements to all of them; light had almost been banished from his room and all seemed quiet and peaceful. Apparently they had already reached some sort of agreement in terms of boundaries to respect so they were relaxed and confident; not having to worry about what could go wrong. Evey would always take the lead with his permission, always respecting his limits and paying attention to his reactions to make sure he was comfortable.
She'd go slowly at first but she'd find no resistance to remove his clothing before making him lie down to continue touching him gently with her small and cool hands, pouring some of his favorite oil here and there to explore him in search of sensitive spots she could exploit. He'd choose when to take off the mask and that was one of the few non-negotiable things he could think of. It was a task that even in that dream reality involved its own ritual that only he could perform.
Twice already she'd slipped one finger past his lips to rub the roof of his mouth so delicately and with such remarkable skill that she would not tickle him but keep him mesmerized and unable to move instead, completely hooked on the strange feeling and moaning his approval. At other times she'd stroke him slowly for as long as he'd want, whispering in his ear that she loved to touch him. Once she'd spent a good deal of time caressing him and then sucking on his fingers before showing him how to slide them inside her to prepare her for further mischief. He was still waiting for a second showing of that one, hopefully with its sequel.
V wondered what would have happened if instead of saying "soon," he'd said "now". He could have easily said that and there was little doubt that such statement would have opened paths on all directions, all apparently enjoyable. No, from what his recent dreams implied, she would have killed him with pleasure, that if she didn't break him for good; he was sure of it. Some things had to be done with extreme caution.
The next morning she'd seemed remarkably pleased with herself and displaying that puzzling calmness of those who know their prey has no place to hide and will be within easy reach once it's tired of running. She wasn't exactly bragging but she allowed herself one single display of success and dominance over him; she poked him in the arm, barely touching him. The brief contact made his sleep-deprived body shiver but she didn't use that against him; she settled for standing a little closer once convinced he was still interested and looked up at the mask, licking her lips like a miniature panther with an expression that said "Just. Say. When." before turning around to leave him to his thoughts.
After that she did not attempt to touch him in any way and her shameless teasing behind closed doors stopped but she kept a relaxed attitude, already knowing he was interested but not wanting to push on the matter, something he'd already proven. Evey had even stopped wearing that infamous top she had favored so much and her laundry hamper was suffering the mysterious absence of underwear he could borrow to satisfy that harmless kink of his. More than a handful of times he'd put himself on a vulnerable position to see if she'd touch him again but she wouldn't, and if in the recent past her playful harassment had driven him mad, now the lack of it had a similar effect.
One afternoon they were in the kitchen, just chit-chatting over different kinds of cake and after a while his attempts at being touched had resulted in a very amused and blushing Evey cornered and against a wall because he'd insisted on invading her personal space one inch at a time, unconsciously believing that then she would finally touch him, even if just to get him off her face but she'd simply moved away one inch of her own until they'd ran out of room.
He shook his head when he realized why he'd cornered her and it was frustrating that she still wouldn't touch him. She settled for looking up at him with the same seductive and challenging expression and for a moment he thought something would happen then and there but she simply waited until he moved away to let her pass after what seemed a lifetime. It was clear she would not only let him choose the time and the moment to continue with the next stage; she wanted him to come forth and earn it. He had to admit it was a most anarchistic attitude. She also knew it was just a matter of time and he'd become her favorite hobby.
After that Evey made sure he knew she was receptive by using the simplest and most clear signs –it was curious that they would not discuss the matter openly- so if he wanted to talk, she'd talk, if he cooked for her everything in her plate would quickly disappear, even what she wasn't especially fond of. If he needed some room she'd let him go out or hide in any corner he'd see fit without pestering him with questions and she would welcome him when he decided to be social again, something not easily done given his current stress. He tried really hard not to snap at her but eventually he did over the most stupid things and her answer would be an impish smile or a suggestive stare that would sweep him from head to toes and would make him blush and forget what he was angry about in the first place.
His latest dreams were delicious but there were blanks he could not fill simply because he did not remember performing a good deal of actions common to others. He could imagine what things felt like but it wasn't the same and his inquisitive mind kept nagging him. V found it curious that what bothered him the most wasn't the blank covering the entire intercourse thing, no. What he was most curious about was in fact kissing. Of course he knew how it was supposed to work and he'd also seen hundreds of kisses before. He'd seen them in movies, in surveillance tapes, out in the street but none of those kisses had been his, not one of them, and now he wanted his own kiss. He should have one of those, too.
Before Larkhill he could have been the biggest whore in the whole of The United Kingdom of Great Britain, Northern Ireland and the rest of the Commonwealth, thank you very much, a thought that amused him quite a bit and after all those years he was still trying to decide if he would have done it for money or just for sport. But after his second birth, he'd been thrown into the world with massive blanks in his mind which included even kissing. How appropriate; a vengeful virgin vigilante.
Yes, a kiss would be enough to satisfy his curiosity for now and then he could focus on his work once more. There where other things, of course, but they could wait a bit longer. He had to think on how to phrase his request in such a way that she wouldn't be able to say no. He also had to figure out what was the best time to remind her all he was supposed to do was let her know when he was ready for more. And then, what? She'd go ahead and please him or just tease him even more?
On the other hand, things had never been so interesting, at least not like this. It was slightly disturbing to find out how much of an individual he still was, with his own likes and dislikes that did not give a damn about politics and vengeance, even to the point of displaying a slight disposition toward amusing little perversions. He was still getting used to the idea of embracing that side of his nature with no reservations.
He had so much to ponder but the dreams disturbed his rest and exhaustion only made him unstable and even more confused. He really needed a good night's rest and as much as he enjoyed his current dreams, he knew they would not leave him be and as tired as he was, he wasn't even close to collapsing yet. Perhaps he should take something to sleep without dreams, just for a short while until he recovered and not for long enough to develop habit. Yes, that was reasonable.