Authors: Kristina Lloyd
I don’t often visit that part of town but when I do I always think it looks like someone else’s memories. Turn off the main drag, and the picture’s even bleaker with boarded up shops and To Let signs reminding anyone tempted to regard Saltbourne as a fun place that it’s a dog-eared seaside town whose glory days are gone.
The Hippodrome on Bath Street serves as one of those reminders. Trying to act casual one midweek evening, Liam and I scanned the domed building from the other side of the street, checking out its security. The road was wide, capable of accommodating far more traffic than was currently gliding along it. At the bottom, the fairy lights of Sea Road gleamed like strings of pearls above the darkness of the beach beyond. The shift of traffic lights through red, amber, green, seemed a waste of colour in the emptiness.
A cheerless expanse of boards sprayed with graffiti blotted out The Hippodrome’s front, a sharp contrast to the
dilapidated curves of lavish architecture I knew to be inside. Dirt streaked the peeling pink and gold dome, and the letters P and M were missing from the fascia, making the theatre’s grand name a stark, gap-toothed mouth.
‘Looks quiet enough from here,’ said Liam. ‘Nothing to protect so they’re hardly going to splash out on state-of-the-art security. Theatre’s probably been ransacked, all the wire and lead stripped from it. Probably riddled with asbestos as well. Come on. Let’s go round the back. Find a way in.’
Liam set off towards the road. I grabbed his hand. ‘Liam, I’m not sure about this any more.’
He turned to me, grinning. In the orange hue of a streetlight, the curls peeking out from below his knitted beanie cap were redder than ever, and his eyes shone with boyish excitement. ‘It’ll be amazing, I promise,’ he said, giving my hand a squeeze.
Standing on Bath Road, both of us in dark clothes and thick-soled shoes, me with my hair tied back and a baseball cap in my pocket, made me worry everyone knew what we were plotting. We could have been dressed in stripy tops and carrying swag bags for all the subtlety we lacked.
‘I’m nervous again,’ I said.
‘That’s part of the fun! Come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?’
‘She’s in hiding,’ I said. ‘Scared we might get arrested for trespass or vandalism.’
‘I’m not going to take any stupid risks.’ Liam set off towards the road again, tugging on my hand. ‘We might not be able to get in. Might be alarmed. Let’s just take a look, eh? No pressure.’
I relented, infected by his enthusiasm. We hurried across the deserted road, towards the back of the theatre. On a
street running parallel to Bath Road, a tall, redbrick wall and a tatty barrier of corrugated steel blocked access to the rear of the building. Liam tapped gently on the metal sheeting, searching high and low for weak spots. I thought back to how I’d arrived with Den. I’d been blindfolded but I’d imagined him parking the van in a private area before guiding me towards an entrance. I remembered how I’d heard gulls and felt a sense of space, correctly surmising we were near the seafront.
Now I’d seen Den’s face, it was impossible to remember that moment as it had been. In recollection, I couldn’t help but see the face behind the mask. But seeing his face and spending time with him still hadn’t given me an insight into who he truly was. And now I couldn’t tell whether he preoccupied me because I found him intriguing or because I wanted him. And if I wanted him, was it because he was a relative blank onto which I could project my own, other desires? Desires that were, perhaps, for Baxter Logan?
‘We don’t want to hang about too much,’ said Liam. ‘Come on, keep walking. I think part of it might extend onto Ship Lane.’
I scurried after him, struggling to keep pace with his long-legged stride as he headed eagerly towards the next step in his plan. Ship Lane was a rickety alleyway and sure enough, part of the theatre’s pale, stucco walls, marred by rust stains and crumbling masonry, were visible at the end of a gap running between a couple of nondescript buildings. A wheelie bin at the foot of the narrow, weed-thick passage suggested a deliberate dead-end, but it was evident this split between buildings was nothing more than an accident arising from urban unplanning. This sliver of an alley was off the map.
We slunk towards the wheelie bin, the passage so narrow
we had to go single-file. At ground level, the theatre’s windows were boarded up while those above were a mixture of boards and glassless frames, twiggy shrubs poking through gaps, ivy crawling across the patchy stucco. A fire escape led to a black door, and I could see Liam eyeing it up as a possible entry point. After taking a glance beyond the big bin, I moved several feet away, keeping guard by casting over my shoulder for passersby on Ship Lane.
The trouble was, the fire escape didn’t quite reach the ground. Its lower steps were strangled by ivy, heaped with rubbish and, quite possibly, weren’t even there at all. Watching Liam assess the situation reminded me of why I’d first lusted after him. That resourcefulness and easy, physical confidence got me right in the groin. I loved that he was orchestrating this while I, his partner in crime, stood watch.
My motivations for wanting to break into the theatre were becoming less clear. I couldn’t convince myself there’d be anything new to discover about Den if we did manage to gain entry. But it was thrilling and fun. And on top of that, I liked the idea I could reclaim the space of the theatre if I broke in with Liam, make it an arena over which I had some control. Doing so wouldn’t register on Den’s psyche but could have a positive impact on mine.
‘Psst!’
Liam hissed for my attention, beckoning me towards the wheelie bin. After checking over my shoulder, I went to join him, resting my hand on the small of his back as I listened to his whispers.
‘I reckon we can get in there.’ He indicated a tall slab of corrugated steel blocking a gap between buildings. ‘Looks like it leads to a yard or something. But once we’re in that part, I think there’ll be more entry points.’
I cupped his arse and gave his neck an appreciative kiss. ‘You’re the burglar-boss. If you reckon that’s good, I’m with you.’
‘Yeah?’ said Liam. ‘You’re not thinking of bailing any more?’ He turned more fully to me, hooking an arm around my waist and looking down with a cheeky grin.
‘Nope. All for one and one for all!’ I reached up to kiss him and pulled our groins close, stalling when a stiff length of metal dug against my thigh. I fondled it, momentarily perplexed, then laughed. ‘Liam Hamilton, is that a crowbar in your trousers or are you just pleased to see me?’
‘Pleased to see you,’ he replied, grinning. Playfully, he rolled his pelvis in a slow grind, clutching my buttocks. I responded with a similar action, tipping my lips in search of a kiss while feeling his cock stiffen against my belly.
‘Mmm,’ said Liam. ‘And when we’re done here, we can go back to yours and fuck each other’s brains out.’
‘Deal,’ I murmured, and I half-wished we were already in bed, safe, warm, naked and horny.
‘OK, wait here. Let me give it a shot.’ Liam withdrew the crowbar from his combats, flicked on a red-filtered torch and sidled behind the back of the bin. The beam of rosy light danced erratically across brickwork and chinks of grey sky. I stood there like a spare part, glancing anxiously back to Ship Lane then ahead to Liam’s progress. Metal scraped against concrete, a sound so loud in the alley’s silence that I braced myself for the screech of sirens and thud of law-enforcement boots. Nothing happened.
‘We’re in!’ Liam’s voice was a jubilant whisper. ‘Follow me!’
I hurried after him, the crunch of twigs and glass underfoot popping like explosions. Liam held open a gap in
the corrugated, makeshift gate and I squeezed in to join him on the other side. He bounced red torchlight over a weedy, rubble-strewn piece of land edging the walls of the theatre; the lower windows again blanked out by boards, the higher ones accessible if you were thirty foot tall.
‘Wow,’ I whispered. The sense we’d arrived in an unexplored zone made me light-headed and giddy. A small, uneasy part of me said we should return to safety but my adrenaline was pumping and I wanted to explore. Liam shone his torch over a tumble of old fridges in a far corner then higher to a window above.
The dancing beam reminded me of all the tedious parking presentations I’d sat through at work with someone aiming a red laser pointer at a projected map. This was infinitely more exciting. As I followed the track of the beam I could guess at Liam’s thoughts. He was wondering if the fridge hillock was high and stable enough to be climbed. Then down to the lower windows. Were any of those boards loose? What was on the ground? Which part of the theatre was this? What was beyond that second barrier of corrugated steel at the end of this passageway? Let’s take a closer look at this window.
Liam touched my hand, encouraging me to move forward with him. I trod softly, feeling we were walking across landmines. Liam’s stride was bolder but he was a bloke, he had a crowbar and could probably run twice as fast as me.
We stood by a boarded-up window, Liam flashing his torch over the edges. The red beam caught a small scrawl of graffiti and Liam allowed the light to hover so we could read it.
Our love will never die.
I stifled a laugh. ‘Oh, jeez. This is creepy.’
Liam spoke in a hoarse whisper. ‘I’m going to try and jemmy these boards off but it’ll be noisy. Ideally, I want to time it so we get covered by other noise. Need the pubs to empty or a massive lorry to go past.’
We stood and listened, hearing only the faint purr of traffic, of gulls calling out, and then a distant shriek of female laughter.
‘We could be here all night,’ I said in a low voice.
Liam switched off his torch, set down his crowbar and leaned against the wall. ‘Yeah, but let’s just wait a bit. If we attracted anyone’s attention on the way in, best to keep still a while before making another racket.’
‘I could go and kick a car,’ I said. ‘Set off an alarm. In fact, I could go along the street and kick loads of them.’
Liam grinned. ‘Half an hour ago you were scared.’
‘Yeah, but now I’m unstoppable. I hope we manage to get inside.’
‘Did you bring your camera?’
I patted the pocket of my gilet. ‘Yup.’
We fell silent, listening. Liam removed a packet of tobacco from his pocket and rolled a cigarette.
‘How long should we wait?’ I asked.
Liam lit his roll-up. ‘Let’s give it ten minutes,’ he murmured.
‘Oh, crikey, that’s ages,’ I complained. ‘Not sure I’ve got the patience for this.’
‘Well, try.’
‘Should I suck your cock?’
Liam laughed, smoke spilling from his lips. ‘Nats!’
I shrugged, grinning, and reached for his crotch. ‘It’ll pass the time.’
Liam glanced about but I could tell he was interested. He
dragged on his cigarette, the tip an amber glow in the dark. I rubbed, feeling him harden. ‘Well?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, OK,’ said Liam. ‘But on the proviso we stop if there’s a useful noise.’
‘What? Like the sound of you coming?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘OK, promise.’ I unzipped him, scuffing the ground by his feet in an attempt to clear away debris. ‘This is sexy,’ I breathed. ‘Outside, in the dark. Not meant to be here.’ I popped open the button on his waistband and reached into the warmth of his open fly, feeling his shaft flex and swell behind the soft jersey cotton of his underwear.
‘Yeah, it’s good.’ A catch of lust roughened his whisper. He drew on his cigarette as I lowered myself to my knees. I lifted the tenting fabric of his boxers away from his erection, allowing his cock to spring up from his nest of ginger-brown curls. I licked the velvety, vein-snarled underside, tracing his bone-hard ridge with my tongue. Above me, Liam exhaled smoke.
I sucked the smooth knob of his tip, nudging slowly down to mould my lips to the circlet of his foreskin. Liam pulled on his cigarette, its burn crackling faintly.
It wasn’t intentional on his part, but Liam smoking in silence and without touching me suggested he was indifferent to the fact I was on my knees giving head. In reality, his attitude was circumstantial. He was keeping quiet because we were trespassing and he wasn’t touching me perhaps because he held a cigarette or was too on edge to be fully engaged with the situation. But the reasons didn’t matter. The implication of arrogance, ingratitude and disdain got me right in the groin.
I was just a cocksucker, an obliging pair of lips, as
insignificant as the cigarette he would toss to the floor and grind out beneath his boots. Lust thumped between my thighs. Being dehumanised and turned into a thing made me a creature suited only to sex. I grew wetter and wetter, picturing myself as an object Liam would discard, just like that cigarette.
In the fog of my desire, I had a flash of appreciating the fantasy I conjured up mapped neatly on to Den’s termination of our relationship. Had he thought I’d find it hot to be genuinely cast aside? Couldn’t he understand my fantasies weren’t an appropriate template for a relationship? I wished I could put him from my mind but it was damn difficult. Even now, in the middle of a scary adventure with another man’s cock in my mouth, my thoughts returned to him. Still, at least I wasn’t obsessing about Baxter for a change.
Above me, Liam groaned quietly, resting a hand on my head. His body jerked as he flicked his cigarette end to the ground. I came back to the moment, sucking hard on his shaft, remembering who he was and being grateful for his integrity and decency. He placed the fingertips of his other hand on my head. Slowly, I slid my lips as close to the root of him as I could manage. Liam groaned again and held my head steady, trying to keep me impaled on his length. I stayed deep then pulled back, gasping. In the pitch-black yard, my noises were worryingly loud.
I teased his tip, slid halfway down, worked him a little with my hand then eased forward again to take the entirety of him. Tears pricked my eyes but the bulk of him nudging at the lock of my throat felt good. Just a little further. Liam gave a wheeze of bliss, winding his fingers in my curls.
Then he tensed, he flinched, movements too fast for pleasure. ‘Nats!’