The lights from the pool cast an electric blue glow over the garden. They swam a few laps together, then Yvette rolled onto her back and floated in the water, listening to the strange, tortured cries coming from the upper floor.
The sound moved Yvette in ways that almost defied description. It fascinated and exhilarated her, fed her dark heart. The tears, the pain, the humiliation: there had been a time, long ago, when she had hated her reactions to those things. Knowing their origins – a noxious mix of wiring and her own toxic upbringing – didn’t help. She had locked them up, pushed them into a shadowy cupboard in her mind and been rigorously vigilant. On the rare occasions they emerged, when she’d lost control of them, she had punished herself with an almost suicidal cruelty. The scars from that time in her life had faded, but they would never disappear completely.
But then she’d met Daniel.
Pushing herself out of the pool, up onto the stone lip, still warm from the heat of the day, she watched him swim. Another swell of indistinct screams emerged from the window.
She loved to watch him, the muscles of his back flexing with each stroke. She loved the way he moved, the way he smelled, all the different ways he took her. But above all, she loved him because he was her teacher. Daniel had shown her how to carve the ugliness she carried inside into an artform. He’d shown her its rules, its parameters and its excesses.
“Why do you think our little project is the way she is?”
Daniel swam up to where she lay and settled a cool wet hand on Yvette’s hip. He was quiet for a while, considering. “She’s a bit of a puzzle, isn’t she?”
“Spoiled. Narcissistic.”
“Petulant. Risk-taking. Attention seeking. Over-flirtatious…” He shook his head, sending droplets of water everywhere. “And did you hear that stuff about ‘my father'”?
“You think he abused her? That doesn’t feel true to me.”
“No… I don’t think so.” Daniel hauled himself out of the pool and perched beside her, looking up at the windows. “It’s women she doesn’t like. Remember how she treated to Rebecca Van Holt?”
Yvette creased her brow. “But she offered to make out with me to turn you on.”
Daniel laughed. “Really? I missed that. But no, that’s just employing someone for a purpose. It’s manipulation.”
“True,” said Yvette, getting up and gathering their toweling robes from the lounger. She draped one over Daniels shoulders. “She’s never mentioned her mother.”
A shrill scream tore through the night air, followed by another, weaker this time. Daniel stood up and tied the belt on his robe. “I guess she’s had enough.”
Hmmm I’m not sure I would of pegged Daniel as the teacher until this one. But then again I suppose I wasn’t suppose to 😀