Broken White: The Complete Series Read online

  "Maybe," Jess says, keeping her eyes fixed on me.

  "That's a convenient argument," Mark continues. "You're effectively wiping off the moral compass of half the world's population, an entire gender, just because it suits your argument".

  "So if I offered you a million pounds to do something immoral," Jess says, lurching over to join me on the larger of the leather sofas, before turning back to look over at Mark, "would you turn it down?"

  "I already have a million pounds," he says with a smile.

  "But if you didn't".

  "How do you think I became a billionaire?" he replies. "By being a good little boy and going to church every Sunday?"

  "Huh," Jess says. "Good point".

  "There are more male billionaires than female," Mark continues, "by a wide, wide margin. Is that because men are smarter than women? Of course not. Maybe you're right. Maybe men are just more willing to move their invisible line, and women refuse to budge. It's an interesting theory. Someone should put it to the test some time". He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bundle of cash, held together with a clip. "I'm afraid I don't carry a million pounds around with me, but this is ten thousand". He stares at the money for a moment, as if its very appearance has in some way startled him. "So what do you think? Could this little bundle of paper be used to make someone push back, or even forget entirely, their moral line?"

  Jess looks at me, and I can see the look of eagerness in her eyes. Jess is the kind of person who has a very expressive face; I can always tell when she's bored or when, as seems to be the case right now, she's switched on and interested. If I didn't know better, I'd be worried that there's a hint of growing attraction between Jess and Mark.

  Carefully, Mark sets the bundle of money down on the coffee table.

  We all sit in silence for a moment. It's as if the money is eating our thoughts.

  "So there's that old test," Jess says eventually, sounding nervous. "Imagine there's a briefcase with a million quid in it, and you can have that briefcase, but if you take it, a random guy in China will drop dead". She pauses. "Would you take the briefcase, knowing that the guy in China, whose name you'll never even know, will die as a result?"

  "Yes," Mark says, without missing a beat.

  "No," I say firmly.

  Jess says nothing. She looks over at Mark, and then at me.

  "Well?" Mark asks.

  "I don't know," she says, looking down at the cash on the table.

  "What about ten thousand pounds?" Mark asks.

  "No," Jess says quickly. "Obviously I wouldn't take it then".

  "So the Chinese guy's life might be worth a million, but not ten thousand?" Mark asks.

  "It's not like that," Jess says, sounding uncertain.

  "So what would you do for ten thousand pounds?" Mark continues. He looks over at me, and I can see that he's already got an idea all worked out. It's almost as if he's had this whole evening planned out from the start.

  "I don't know," Jess says, still staring at the money.

  "Would you... kill a man?"

  "No," she says.

  "Would you stand back and let a man die without trying to help?"

  She shakes her head.

  "Would you paralyze someone?"

  "No".

  "Would you cut off someone's hand?"

  "No".

  "Would you sleep with someone?"

  "No".

  "Would you strip naked in front of a stranger?"

  She pauses. "Maybe".

  "I think we've just found your moral line," Mark replies with a smile. "But 'maybe' isn't an answer. Yes or no?"

  "Yes," she says after a moment.

  "Okay," Mark says.

  There's an awkward pause. Jess continues to stare at the money, and then she looks over at Mark.

  "Well?" Mark continues.

  "Well what?" Jess asks. She looks at me, then back at Mark. "What... seriously?" she asks with a nervous laugh.

  "You said you'd do it," he replies.

  "Yeah, but it was a joke," she says. "Well, not a joke, but, like, hypothetical".

  "So you'd say you'd do it," Mark continues, "but when it comes down to it, you wouldn't. You're all talk and no action".

  "No, I would," she says, "I just..."

  "I'm a stranger," Mark reminds her. "More or less, anyway. You barely know me".

  "I'm not a stranger," I say. There's a part of me that wants to shut this whole conversation down right now and get the night finished. After all, it's close to midnight, and I'm getting tired of Mark's games. At the same time, I don't want to make either of them think that I'm scared, or that somehow I'm not strong enough to take part in their conversation. They've got their own game going here, and I can't let them think I'm not a part of it.

  "So you'll give me ten grand," Jess says, staring at the money, "if I strip?"

  "Yes," Mark says. "I mean, you said it yourself. You'd be willing to do it for the money. I'm not putting the words into your mouth. That's exactly what you said a few minutes ago".

  "Yeah, but I thought it was just in theory," she continues.

  "I guess you've proved your point, then," Mark says, reaching over to take the money back. "You have a -"

  "Wait," Jess says, pushing his hand away from the money at the last moment. "Would I actually, like, seriously, get the money? That money, right now, all of it?"

  "Yes," Mark says.

  "You're not bullshitting me, are you?" she asks, before turning to me. "Is he bullshitting me?"

  I shake my head.

  She looks back across the room. "Are there cameras in here?"

  "None," Mark says. "Believe me, the last thing I'd ever want in my home is a camera".

  "Huh," Jess says, blushing slightly. "Well... Fuck it. Ten grand. Yeah, I'd strip". There's another awkward silence. "How far?" She waits for Mark to answer. "Like, all the way?"

  Mark nods.

  "Are you okay with this?" she asks, looking over at me.

  "Why wouldn't I be okay with it?" I reply.

  "It's a bit weird," she says. "Are you sure it's okay, Elly?"

  "I'm sure," I reply. What else can I say? I can't be the one who stops it. Besides, I know Jess; I don't think she'll go through with it. Not all the way. Sure, she sleeps around back in Bristol, but she's not going to submit to Mark's game like this. She won't be some dancing, stripping doll, not even for ten thousand pounds.

  "Fuck," she mutters, staring at the money for a moment before getting to her feet. "Fine," she says eventually, shrugging. She's clearly nervous, but as she stands by the coffee table, it's clear that she's actually willing to do this. "So," she says after a moment, "have you got any, like, stripper music or anything?"

  "Sorry," Mark replies. "No music".

  "Huh," Jess says. There's another pause. "Well," she continues, reaching down and grabbing the bottom of the black dress she's been wearing all evening, "I guess..." Slowly, she starts pulling the dress up, exposing her bare legs and eventually a white pair of briefs. In the otherwise silent room, the fabric of the dress makes a slight rubbing sound as it slips up over her hips. Eventually, she pulls the dress over her head, revealing a white bra. She slips her arms out of the dress, which she sets neatly on the sofa.

  There's a pause.

  "Okay," she says nervously, slipping out of her sandals. After taking a deep breath, she reaches back and starts unhooking her bra.

  "You won't go through with it," I say suddenly.

  Mark smiles.

  Without saying anything, Jess lets her bra straps fall down, but she keeps one arm over her chest for a moment, pressing the front of the bra to her breasts. She looks at me for a moment, then back down at the money, and finally she pulls the bra away to reveal her large, firm breasts. Still blushing, she neatly folds her bra and places it next to her dress.

  "Huh," she says, laughing nervously. She puts her hands on the waistband of her briefs, ready to pull them down.

  "You won't do it," I
say. My heart is pounding, but I'm convinced that there's no way she's going to go all the way with this striptease.

  "Before I do this," she says nervously, glancing at each of us, "I just want to say that if I'd known I'd be stripping, I'd have shaved my legs".

  I stare at her. She's starting to get second thoughts. There's no way she'll -

  Suddenly she pulls the briefs down and slips them off, exposing her shaved crotch. There's a small tattoo of a butterfly just to one side, which I'd never seen before. Then again, I've never seen Jess completely naked before.

  "There," she says, grinning with nervous embarrassment. She does a full turn, giving us a quick view of her buttocks before turning back to face us. "Voila! One naked Jess!" She stands in silence for a moment, and it's kind of cute to see that she's blushing. "Fuck," she says after a moment. "This feels pretty weird".

  "Very impressive," Mark says.

  "I told you I'd do it," she says, putting her hands over her crotch. She pauses for a moment, and then she sits back next to me on the sofa, immediately crossing her legs while putting her hands in her lap in such a way as to partially cover her breasts with her arms. "So," she says, smiling, "I bet you didn't think I'd go through with it, did you?"

  "No," I say, feeling strangely tense and nervous.

  "Congratulations," Mark says. "You're ten thousand pounds better off".

  "Seriously?" Jess replies. "Fuck". She turns to me. "Well, this has certainly been an evening to remember, right? I mean -"

  Suddenly we both look over at Mark as we see that he's reaching into his pocket again. Moments later, he takes out another bundle of cash, and without saying a word he leans across the coffee table and puts this bundle next to the first.

  Jess looks at me nervously.

  "Another ten thousand," Mark says.

  "Huh," Jess replies.

  "What else are you willing to do?" Mark asks.

  "I'm not sure..." she says cautiously.

  "Would you kiss Elly?"

  Jess immediately starts laughing, but it's a tense, nervous laugh.

  "So you wouldn't?"

  "That's a crazy idea," she replies. "She's my best friend!"

  "So you wouldn't kiss her for another ten thousand pounds?"

  "I don't know!" Jess says. "I've never even thought about it!" She stares at the money. "I mean, I'm not..." She looks back over at me. "I'm not gay. You know that, right? I'm, like, the least gay person in the world. Apart from that time I kissed Sheila Struthers at Dave's party".

  "You did more than kiss her," I say.

  "It was a party!" she replies, as if that explains everything. There's an awkward pause, and she bites her bottom lip as she looks at my mouth. "I just did it for a bit of fun," she continues after a moment, her voice suddenly seeming softer and more thoughtful. "Not everything has to be some big, meaningful event. Sometimes you kiss someone because you love them, and sometimes you kiss them because it's just a bit of a laugh. Haven't you ever kissed someone for a laugh?"

  "Not really," I say, feeling as if I can't back down now. I know Mark's watching us, and I know this whole set-up is probably some kind of test. Hell, it might even be part of the game.

  As Jess shifts her position on the sofa and moves closer to me, her bare ass squeaks against the leather. She's definitely within kissing distance right now, and although I'm feeling uncomfortable, I keep telling myself over and over that I'm going to do this. There's no way I'm going to back down, because then Mark would start to think that Jess is more daring than me. I'm already worried that he finds her attractive, and the last thing I want to do is push him further into her arms.

  Slowly, Jess leans closer and brushes her lips against mine. I don't pull away, and she tilts her head a little and comes in for another moment of skin on skin, except this time she lingers. Our mouths are partly open, and finally we kiss properly. We don't use tongues, not at first; we just kiss, tenderly and delicately, as if neither of us is really sure about the wisdom of what we're doing. Jess is my best friend, and I've never thought of her life this before. As the kiss continues, however, I realize that she seems to be getting into it, and I force myself to remember that I need to impress Mark.

  After a moment, I reach around and place a hand on Jess's bare waist, before moving the hand down a little until I'm touching her hip. The kiss is becoming more passionate and more intense, as if Jess has lost all her inhibitions and is really going for it, and a few seconds later I feel her tongue against mine. To be honest, it's not the most awful experience in the world, especially when I manage, just for a few seconds at a time, to forget who I'm kissing. I slowly move my hand up the side of her body, past her waist and onto her torso, and finally I feel the beginning of the curve of her breast.

  Suddenly Jess pulls back from the kiss, just a couple of inches. She stares at me, and then she slips the strap off one of my shoulders, pulling the dress down to expose my right breast. She pauses, and then the kiss resumes, with much more passion and energy this time. I barely have time to react properly before I realize that I've moved my hand onto one of her breasts, and to my shock I find that her nipple is rock-hard. There's a part of me that wants to stop this immediately, but at the same time I'm also drawn to explore her body. I move my hand down, past her belly and all the way to her crotch; pushing my fingers further than I ever thought I'd go, I feel that she's excited, and her wetness guides a solitary finger between the lips of her vagina.

  Jonathan Pope

  1901

  "What did you tell them?" Gregor asks from the darkness. "The police, I mean. Did you talk about the game? Did you open your mouth and try to save your skin by giving them what you thought they wanted?"

  "No," I reply, still trying to pick the lock on the heavy iron door. With no suitable tools, I've resorted to the most desperate tool imaginable: first, I chewed off all my fingernails, and then I used strands of my own hair to bind the pieces of nail together. The resulting makeshift stick is fragile and delicate, and the odds of success are a million to one. Still, I can't give up. I won't stop fighting until my neck is in that noose.

  "They already know, anyway," he says. "Well, they know enough to understand that they have to keep well clear. Like I told you, Mr. Pope, there are powerful forces at work, and the game has ways of keeping itself going".

  "So I understand," I reply, still focusing on the lock.

  "Perhaps you should have said something," Gregor continues. "The game is already angry with you, so you've got nothing to lose". He waits for a moment. "Or have you?"

  "Have I what?" I ask, still working on the lock.

  "Got something to lose, Mr. Pope? Out there in the real world, is there something you care about? Something you're trying to protect? I should warn you, the game is not only vengeful. It's also spiteful. It'll kill for kicks, just to make itself feel better".

  "There's nothing," I say. "And no-one".

  "Then the game is probably being a little more cautious," he says. "Perhaps the game wonders how best to hurt you".

  "Hanging me should do the trick," I reply, pressing the lock until finally the toenails slip from the strands of hair, and my little device falls apart. "Damn it!" I shout, sitting back. There's still time to come up with another plan, but I need to think fast.

  "You're an ingenious man," Gregor says with a laugh. "I'll give you that, Mr. Pope. What are you going to do next? Take out all your teeth and fashion those into a knife?"

  "If I thought it would work," I say grimly, "I'd -" Suddenly I stop speaking, as a new idea enters my mind. At first, it seems utterly insane and desperate, but I can't ignore the fact that it might actually work. I mean, the blunt truth is that I know I could pick that lock if I just had something sharp and firm, and while toenails were unlikely to ever work, a piece of bone, snapped in the right way and with a sharp enough tip, would be far more promising. I'd rather not remove a bone from my own body, but Gregor, on the other hand, means nothing to me. I don't want to kill him, but
I'm willing to do whatever's necessary.

  "You seem thoughtful," he says after a moment. "Do you have another crazy plan? I was quite entertained by the last one. As you can probably imagine, I don't get much fun around here, so it always amuses me to watch my fellow prisoners as they get more and more desperate". He waits for me to reply. "Come on, Mr. Pope. Let me in on the plan. You've got one, right?"

  "I'm not sure," I say, still trying to work out which bones would be most effective. After a few seconds, I decide that the lower arm would do, just around the wrist. Still, in order to extract such a bone from Gregor, I'd have to overpower him and knock him out, and then I'd have to use my bare hands to gouge the flesh away. It'd be a blood, animal-like process, and it'd certainly be the most desperate and craven thing I've ever done in my life. Still, right now it seems like my only chance.

  "If you'd like to confess your sins," Gregor continues, "I'd be happy to listen. You'll have to be completely honest, though. You'll have to tell me everything you've done. Don't leave anything out, not even the slightest detail. You'll also have to admit that you killed the woman you loved".

  "I didn't kill her," I reply, trying to judge the perfect moment to attack him. "I have other sins, though. I've lived a long and lowly life, and over the years I've had need to slit many throats. I'm not sure I can even remember the names of all the people I've hurt and killed, but maybe I should try. Come closer, though. I'm only willing to whisper them".

  "Why don't you come closer to me?" he replies.

  "It's dark," I point out. "I don't know where you are".

  There's a pause, and then I hear a shuffling sound getting closer. After a few seconds, a figure starts to emerge from the gloom, and finally I see the face of an old, beaten-down old man.

  "Tell me your sins," he hisses, with the addled, desperate voice of a man who's addicted to the suffering of others.

  Realizing that this is my chance, I rush at him, grabbing his head and slamming the front of his skull into the wall. I pull him back and then ram his head into the floor with such force that I immediately feel the back of his skull give way. With my heart beating faster than ever, I grab hold of his arm and start using my fingers to gouge at his skin. It's a slow and desperate task, but soon there's blood flowing over my hands and eventually I reach deep enough inside to grab hold of a section of bone. Placing the arm over my knee, I slam it down and snap the bone in two, and then I finally manage to manhandle it out of his body. Sure enough, as I hold the bone up, I can just about see the sharp, shattered tip. Like a hungry, desperate animal, I hurry over to the door.