Read Online Keeping by Sarah Masters - Free Book Online Page B

Aren’t you so good?” He waited for her nod, then, “Yes, you are.”
    He did the necessary and eased the needle in, squeezing the magic potion into her body. This draft would keep her lucid yet pliable enough for him to manage her, to not have to worry that she’d lash out or run amok in his flat. She dropped her head back and stared at him, but not seeing him clearly, he knew. He’d be a blurred shape, his mask possibly more frightening than it usually was—all skewed mouth and hanging eyes. Smooth cheeks.
    He threw the syringe in the waste basket on his way out, heading for the bathroom. Pausing at the radiator, he picked up the knickers and, satisfied they were dry, he lifted them to his face. Because she’d been a dirty girl and messed them, they didn’t smell like the other women’s. That annoyed him somewhat, but he controlled himself and remained calm as he stepped into them, pulling them up over his jeans.
    Back in the bedroom, he stood in front of Cheryl and curtseyed, then did a pirouette so she could see how he looked in her knickers. She widened her eyes, her facial expression showing her disgust, her terror.
    “You don’t like them on me?” he asked gently, stepping closer so she could get a better view. She hadn’t been able to see them properly, that was it.
    She moved her head but he wasn’t sure whether that had indicated a yes or no.
    “Answer me, there’s a good girl. Aren’t they lovely?”
    She slurred out a yes and gave a definite nod.
    “I think so too.” He reached out and swiped her white bra from the top of her clean clothes pile on the floor. With the practice he’d had he was able to put it on over his polo shirt quickly, enjoying the way the cups stood out. “And this? How do I look in this?”
    She nodded again, faster this time, and her lips twitched.
    He took that for a smile.
    “I like wearing girls’ clothes,” he said, impressed with how his voice had sounded.
    Lilting.
    He approached her then sat on the bed, glancing at Sally to make sure she was still watching. She was, so he turned his attention to Cheryl. He reached out and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Her skin was divine, like nectarines, or maybe even the velvet of the sofa they’d had when he was a child. Sally had always liked that sofa, although they hadn’t sat on it often. Sitting on it was a treat, something to be relished, because it meant his parents were getting along and he didn’t have to stay in his room to avoid their spats.
    Cheryl blinked, and a faint tic pulsed beneath one eye.
    She didn’t like him touching her.
    They never did. All they had to do was like it and he wouldn’t have to send them home-home . All they’d had to do was enjoy him stroking their cheeks, to tell him they hadn’t had enough of him, and he would be happy. Instead, they’d all cringed, all hated him, and it made him do what he did.
    “Mmmm, this is nice,” he said. “Say it’s nice, Cheryl.”
    She opened her mouth, flapped her lips, but no words came out. He hadn’t given her that much medicine—she ought to be able to answer.
    “Tell me it’s nice, Cheryl.” He didn’t sound so melodious this time, more like his other self. He licked the sweat from above his top lip to remind himself just who he was now. Applied more pressure to his cheek strokes.
    She did an outright wince this time, and a knot of anger began in his belly. He’d try one more time to get her to speak, and if she didn’t…
    “Tell me it’s nice, Cheryl.”
    “S’nice.”
    “Tell me you want me to keep doing it.”
    “Keep doin’ it.”
    “No.”
    He stood abruptly and stared down at her. She appeared confused, deep frown lines fucking up her brow, and that made him happy. He pranced about the small space on tiptoes, arms out by his sides, and listened to Sally’s tune playing in his head. Soon he’d pull the cord in her back and let her music fill the room for real, but for now she’d be content to just