Elizabeta Brooke: Never: an erotic retelling of Peter Pan

Thou shalt not commit adultery.

Slowly he turned his head sideways to look at the bedside alarm. Eleven-fifteen. He had forty-five minutes. To prepare.

Methodically, he folded the lock into the letter and secreted both in the back of his Bible. Then he walked slowly from wardrobe to dresser, gathering clean clothes for his shower, forcing his mind to blankness. But inside the tiny ensuite, the trembling hit him.

He remembered the silky feel of that lock of hair in his palm. How soft it had been, how slippery, and how like his imagination — the imagination that in the desperate loneliness of the night had pretended his hand was the silken warmth of her body closing around him. He remembered how he'd touched himself, remembering her touch, sobbing, but unable to stop.

"It's wrong." He fell back against the door, squeezing his eyes shut. It was wrong. She was a married woman, and she'd still be a faithful wife if he'd left her alone.

It was all his fault.

"Just talk," he whispered brokenly. "Please God, let her be coming just to talk."

He repeated those words as he levered himself off the door and went through the motions of stripping and cleansing his body, but the more he soaped and rinsed, the dirtier he felt. He just couldn't get clean. Then he knew. He knew he'd always be dirty — sinful and dirty, and people would know just by looking at him. His mother would know.

A numbing coldness settled inside his chest as he abandoned the shower to stand in front of the mirror, a towel wrapped around his hips. Slowly and with exaggerated attention to detail, he lathered his face. Then he picked up his razor and inserted a fresh blade. He always used a fresh blade when he wanted to look especially good, and tonight he had to look his best. For Dr Williams. For Dee.

Taking even breaths he raised the sharp instrument, carefully. He mustn't cut himself. Dr… Dee might not like blood. Billy didn't like blood.

He brought the razor closer to his face and found his gaze drawn to the sliver of sharp steel within. It glinted evilly under the bright florescent lighting, and as it stilled in the air before his face, it appeared like a serpent poised to strike.

Billy stared at it unblinkingly, then addressed it directly. "I love her. That can't be wrong." In his trembling hand, the gleaming strip appeared to stare accusingly at him. Billy stared back, his gaze becoming unfocused.

God is love. Billy heard his mother's words echoing hollowly inside his mind. You must obey God.

"Dr Williams is love," Billy whispered to the serpent. "I must obey her." The serpent winked. Then it moved, and Billy watched its glinting silver eyes as it eased, not to his cheek for the first downward stroke, but towards his throat. He closed his eyes as it came to rest against his carotid artery.

"Here?" he whispered, and felt a sudden calm wash over him. He would listen to the voice. He would obey the voice. It was God's will.

Dee sat in her car, wrists against the steering wheel, watching seconds tick over on the luminous dial of her watch. She was parked behind the student dormitories, two minutes up the back stairwell from Billy's door, and it was almost time. Ten minutes. Not to waste arguing with herself. She was done with that days ago. This was ten minutes to be spent in delicious anticipation. She’d decided to brazenly do it in his room, where she’d first watched him near-naked. That would be the ultimate turn on, and fitting, because after all, her first foray into adultery was a monumental occasion.

The only other monumental sexual occasion in her life had been almost two decades ago, and it had left scars that defied healing. All the gentleness, luxury and companionship James had offered over the years, even the satisfaction of her own career successes — none of it had been able to wipe away the stains of that encounter. And now Billy had opened the wound.

It had been almost twenty years since that first awakening, and hardly a week went by that she didn't remember it, re-experiencing the terror and the sickening excitement. Would it be like that for Billy tonight? No. Billy probably wasn't even a virgin, and the only power she held over him was his desire for her. She could never be cruel to him. Demanding perhaps, but not cruel.

The dark man of her memory, the one who had controlled her had been all-powerful and she'd been helpless in a way Billy could never be. The way no man would ever be. That was what cut the deepest. The injustice.

She focused on the watch again. Five minutes. Then she'd have to get out and start walking. To Billy. And when he let her in? Would she fulfil his fantasies, or her own?

Her mind drifted back to her last year of high school. There had been no question of fantasies then. There had only been orders and obedience. And pleasure…

"Yes, that's it, little one. Suck it hard like that, up and down and then flick it with your soft little tongue. A bit more. Lick the top, as though it was a lolly pop and you loved the flavour of it. What's your favourite flavour?"

"Strawberry, Sir," Wendee murmured from around a mouthful of slippery penis.

"Mmmm. Strawberry. Pretend it's a strawberry lollipop that you can't wait to eat. Lick it all around so you can get all the flavour off and then suck the top of it again. Oh yes, Wendee. That's good. I've taught you well."

Under the desk Wendee could feel the familiar tightening of his penis inside her mouth. She prepared herself for the unpleasantness that was to follow, but the penis was suddenly withdrawn and she sat back in surprise.

"Come with me, Wendee," he said, his hand reaching down under the table to pull her out. It was getting late, almost dark and Wendee dreaded her mother asking why she was so late, again. Why hadn't he let her finish and go home?

"We're going to the store room. I've got something to show you." He led her out of the classroom with his penis protruding from his dark grey pin-stripped trousers and Wendee felt an almost hysterical urge to giggle. It looked like a pale wobbly snake that had crawled into the wrong place and was trying to escape.

If only the parents who doted on his 'proper, authoritarian method of teaching' could see him now, they'd probably die of a heart attack. They certainly wouldn't believe Wendee if she told them what he'd asked her to do. She’d already been ostracized by her classmates, two years older than they were, held back twice in primary school because her mother had made her spend so much time helping on the farm.

And yet she knew she could say 'No' to him at any time, and remembering that gave her some small measure of control. Unfortunately, if she wanted to be given the marks she deserved, the marks she'd earned, she would do as he asked.

"Come in here and we'll finish that test," he said, holding the door open. Inside the small room were shelves of books and stationery, a stool and an old photocopy machine on a wooden table. It smelt of dust and ink, and as she stepped inside she felt a claustrophobic foreboding.

The door clicked and rattled behind her, then she felt, rather than saw him edge around to stop in front of her, his large shadow blocking the feeble dusk-light that filtered through the dirty window. A powerful sensation of entrapment gripped her, and goose-bumps prickled her bare arms.

"Good girl," he said softly, his voice oddly disembodied. "Now, take your panties off and give them to me." He moved slightly and she heard a creak as he leant back against the table to give her room.

Her heart began to beat more quickly.

"My panties?" Her voice sounded small and frightened in the darkened room.

In the past he'd only wanted her to stay back after school to touch him, to suck his penis and to stroke it with her tentative hands, hiding under his desk while he pretended the rest of the class were still there. Once she'd even heard him murmur, 'Never mind what I'm doing, Sally Wentworth. You get on with your reading,' a second before the hot, salty fluid had spurted into her mouth. He'd never wanted more than that, and yet now he wanted her to take her panties off.