Only Consenting Adults Ch. 13

[Author's note: Eve has resolved to investigate why Jen's father is pushing the new laws that will change their lives. Jen takes matters into her own hands]

---

BLOOD AND PAPER

Passing Tony on the door, Eve took a good look around the darkened space of the Lost and Found. It wasn't heaving with life, but it wasn't deserted either. She saw Adam sitting by the bar and gave him a small wave. He nodded back.

Eve brought her hands up to her face, like she was fixing her hair, and gestured.

- Where is she

Adam nodded over towards the back wall and signed back:

- Two together, white hair

- White or blonde

Eve smiled at him sweetly. Adam grinned and casually formed a circle with his finger and thumb. He poked the index finger of his other hand through the circle then pointed at her. She understood what he'd said and signed back:

- Later big boy

She saw the pair, despite Adam's woeful signing. The man was mid-to-late twenties, dressed up in a leather jacket and dark pants. He was wearing a collared shirt and his dark brown hair was cut and styled. He had obviously made an effort, but her attention switched to the woman sitting next to him. She had a long mane of dirty-blonde hair cascading down over bare shoulders. Her modest breasts were pushed up into voluptuous cleavage by a strapless leather bustier that stopped at her midriff, exposing creamy skin. Eve could see that she was wearing a matching tight leather micro-skirt. Her legs were enclosed in tight-fitting thigh-high boots in the same colour. The detail that drew Eve's attention was the little black collar fastened around her neck, and the thin leather leash attached to the metal circle in the centre of the collar. Her partner held the other end of the leash in a loose grip. There was a dark, knee-length jacket draped on the back of the seat next to her. He was drinking a beer, she had a glass of sparking water.

They both looked up as Eve approached, but then the woman broke eye contact and stared back down at the table.

Eve opened the conversation with, "Hi. I just had to ask, where did she get those boots?"

She was careful to address the man; she understood the protocol. He smiled and turned to his partner.

"Why don't you tell her?"

The blonde woman looked up at Eve and replied, "I don't actually know, they were a birthday gift from my wife."

Eve laughed, saying, "She has killer taste."

There was a pause in the conversation, but Eve made no move to leave. Eventually, she pressed on herself.

"Mind if I sit down?"

"Of course," the man replied and gestured to the seat opposite him.

As she sat down, she took the opportunity to introduce herself. "I'm Eve."

"Henry," the man replied. He didn't introduce his companion and didn't volunteer any more information.

Eve sensed the mood of the table, that she was intruding on a private night out. She was sitting close enough now that she could get a good look at the blonde woman: the hazel eyes, the elegant neck, the finely-toned, athletic body, the curve of the woman's stomach. For her part, the woman looked down at the table, shoulders slumped, waiting meekly while Henry dealt with the newcomer.

"I'm sorry to crash your night out," Eve began, "But I just thought you might be able to help me."

"Sure," Henry said, "Shoot."

Eve leaned forward, but the couple don't reciprocate. She noted the muted body language. Charm wasn't going to work here, she realised, so she might as well jump straight in.

"I'm looking for some information. I've been told you're the right people to ask."

"Information on what?"

"On whom, actually."

Henry leant forward. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his blonde companion's body language change.

"Whom exactly?"

"Gerard Staunton."

She saw it instantly in Henry's face and she knew she had hit the mark.

"Can't say I can help you with that."

Eve was insistent. "Look, I knew you'd say that but please just give me a minute more."

The blonde woman seemed to shrink into herself, like she was attempting to make herself invisible. Henry was now doing all the talking.

"How about I give you ten seconds instead? Just about enough time to fuck off."

"I don't know who you think I am, but...."

"There's only one type of person who would come here, sit down at this table and throw out that name. So yeah, time to go."

Henry's eyes darted over her shoulder. He was looking for backup, maybe about to call Tony over.

"You don't have to do that. Anyway, Tony knows me better than he knows you. Just listen, please? I swear it's for a good reason."

Henry looked from Eve to his partner and appeared to be weighing up his choices. The blonde woman was staring rigidly down at the table, her leash dangling from her neck. Eve waited for Henry to make his decision.

"Ah fuck," Henry hissed as he reached over to his partner's throat. Eve watched his fingers at work behind her neck and the collar dropped away.

"There goes date night," he groaned.

The woman's eyes flicked up immediately, locking her in a cold stare.

"You must be Jen," Eve began but before she could get any further Jen interrupted her.

"Yeah, and who the fuck are you, Eve?" Jen replied, laying sarcastic emphasis on her name.

"Just got a question."

"Yeah, you said that twice already."

Eve was taken aback by the woman's sudden change of demeanour, put off-guard by her vitriol. Before she could recover, Jen hammered her with another broadside.

"You sit down here, you mention a name, you obviously already know about me. You tell me who the fuck you are first, Eve. Or is Eve really your name?" Jen hissed, leaning across the table until her face was only inches away from the other woman. "Let's start with that, let's find out something about you first."

Eve could see it in Jen's face, that she was about to lose her opportunity.

Henry grimaced, "You know what, we're outta here."

He began to coil up the leash.

"My name is Ava Choudhry," Eve confessed.

"And which shitpit rag do you work for Ava?" Henry asked.

"I don't."

Jen interjected, "Then why are you asking questions?"

"I'm a special investigative agent."

Henry rocked back in his seat, but Eve could see that Jen has already made the connection.

"So you're the cops," Jen said, her voice low, "And you're asking questions about my father."

There was silence. Eve knew it was now or never: she could see they were both waiting for her to speak.

"This seven pillars legislation," Eve began, treading carefully, "It's got a lot of people thinking. Talking. If your father manages to push it through, a lot of people are going to be on the wrong side of the law."

Jen snorted derisively, "So that's where you come in, hey? Doing a bit of reconnaissance? Identifying the guilty? You make me sick."

Eve spread her hands on the table, looking suddenly weary.

"No," she said at last. "The opposite. I'm one of the people who are caught up by all this. I'm as guilty as you are. A lot more guilty, in fact. Jen, I'm on your side of the fence."

The admission had an effect. Henry's body language softened and in response, Jen seemed to dial it down a notch.

"I'm just going to say it," Eve pressed on, "It seems that the man who's championing the legislation has a daughter in a relationship that is the antithesis of what he's looking to achieve. If that gets out, I imagine it would really hurt him."

She paused but neither of the other two filled the gap, so Eve continued.

"It would be a bad thing if he was being coerced into passing this law because someone had this information."

Jen's head sank and she brought a hand up, running it through her hair. When she finally looked up again, she had a fragile expression on her face.

"You wasted your evening, Ava," Jen told her, "My father's colleagues already know about his fucked up bisexual polyamorous daughter."

She sighed, seeming to need to summon up the strength to continue.

"Because he told them, so that they know the sacrifices he's willing to make to stand up for what he believes is right. It's not a liability, to him, it's a badge of honour."

Jen turned to her partner and said, "I think I'm done for the night." She raised her chin to expose her throat.

Henry slipped the collar back around her neck and secured it in place. Jen's gaze fell to the table and she appeared to draw in on herself again. Henry stood, giving the leash a little tug so that Jen knew to get to her feet. Henry retrieved her coat and folded it over his arm.

"Sorry," Henry said, "I don't know how we can help you."

Eve remained seated, her eyes level with Jen's belly. She remembered the sparkling water and made the connection.

"When is she due?" Eve asked Henry.

"None of your business."

Eve sighed. "All I'm trying to do is make sure the world you baby's born into is better than this one."

"Us too, believe me. Us too."

She watched as they left, Henry in front and Jen walking behind him on the leash. Despite her down-turned gaze, there was something about the way she walked in the thigh-high heeled boots, about the way her bottom rolled in the tight micro-skirt. Like she was on a catwalk, as if, despite being a collared slave on a leash, she owned the place.

Eve could see plenty of her father in her. She suspected that so could Henry, which is why Eve had no doubt that he would die in a ditch to protect her. Eve's eyes settled on Adam, still sitting by the bar. He lifted a hand.

- Went good

Eve grimaced, forming a circle with thumb and finger, sliding the index finger of her other hand through the hoop, then pointed at him across the room. He signed back:

- Good idea let's go

Eve took one last look around and nodded, but Adam was already on his way to the door.

---

Jen unfastened the top button of her trenchcoat, revealing her collar to Henry. She stared at him mutely until he reached up and unfastened it.

"Not feeling it tonight?" he asked.

"Nah, not anymore."

"Cab?"

"Yeah. Sure as shit can't go out drinking. I could murder a whiskey."

"You hate whiskey."

"Pregnancy. Tastebuds change. Ask Anya. My body's doing all kinds of unexpected shit at the moment."

Henry leaned out into the street, holding up a hand. In the distance, an oncoming cab flashed its lights in recognition.

"This is all so fucked," Jen muttered under her breath.

The cab pulled up and Henry helped Jen into the back before sliding in next to her.

"I feel like a whale."

"You don't look like a whale. You look absolutely gorgeous."

"The baby glow?"

"The boots. They're really doing it," Henry countered with a smile.

"Fuck off," Jen replied, but she flashed him a smile back.

The cab pulled away and Jen settled against his shoulder, adjusting herself in her seat. Henry watched the buildings go past.

"It's still early," he commented. "Anya's going to know something's gone on."

"Nah, I can just pull you into the bedroom. We don't have to say anything."

Henry frowned at her. "Since when?"

"What?"

"Remember the last time we did secrets? How that nearly turned out?"

Jen wrinkled her nose. "I just really don't want to talk about it tonight, babe. I've had enough of being a Staunton, really."

"But...."

Jen cut him off. "Look, we did it your way. Your little speech to me on my pedestal got you a result. But, let's face it, there was zero cut-through with Dad. Even your little bit about blood and paper, which was a nice touch by the way. You must have been working on that."

"Jen, hey, no need to get sarcastic."

"I'm not, I swear. I really thought you did great. But he was just never gonna listen."

"What if we went over again? Try and build bridges? I mean, he's met me twice in his entire life, so if we...."

"Leave it, Henry."

"We can't."

"You saying that as my husband or my owner? Think real carefully before you answer."

"I'm not your husband. That's the point."

Jen sat up, flashing a glance at him, arms crossed now.

"Do not go there, babe. Do not," she bristled, "I'm having your baby. I'm fucking all in with this relationship, until death do us part. It's not fair to bring up the husband thing."

"Then we fix this."

"How?" she gasped, exasperated.

Her tone goaded him, and before he could stop himself, he snapped, "Talk him around."

Jen paused for a moment, hazel eyes searching his face. Henry felt a trace of uneasiness.

"What, Jen?"

She set her mouth in a firm line. "Nothing."

"No really, what? Get it out."

Jen huffed, but eventually she relented. "Okay. Fine. You know what he said the last time he and I spoke about my living arrangements? About you and Anya and Millie? You wanna hear? He called you the menagerie."

She snorted. "Fuck him."

There was silence. The cab turned off the main road and began to thread through the suburban streets towards their house.

"You know," Jen said, breaking the silence, but speaking now in a softer, more measured voice, "He's against me being able to marry the only man I've ever loved. He wants to make my wife a criminal for spanking me because I ask her to do it. Maybe I should do it, what do you think? I'll go over there as you suggest. I'll go tomorrow, wearing nothing but my collar and stripe marks across my backside and show that man just what a fucked-up freak of a daughter he has."

She laughed, but it was hollow.

"Maybe that'll change his mind, what do you think?"

"Jen, you don't have to do that."

"Maybe I do. In fact, I'm going round there tomorrow to speak to them both."

"I'll come."

"No, Henry. Just me. A father-daughter chat, a heart-to-heart. One thing Ava had right, I wanna look right into his eyes when I ask if he's being blackmailed or if he just fucking hates me."

---

The next day was a Saturday. Anya was already up with Millie by the time Henry and Jen emerged from his bedroom, shuffling into the kitchen to hunt for breakfast.

"Big night?" Anya asked.

"Nah," Henry replied, "I just got up twice in the night for Millie."

"Oh, I didn't hear her."

"Doesn't matter."

Anya frowned, looking from Henry to Jen and back again.

"Okay, so what happened?"

"Nothing," Jen replied.

"Spill. No secrets."

Jen sighed. "I'm gonna go see Dad today, just me, on my own," she confessed.

"Without the menagerie in tow," Henry supplied.

"Henry, leave it."

"What's going on?" Anya asked.

"Tell you what, I'll let Henry fill you in. I'm gonna maybe grab something to eat on the way. I'll be back in a few hours."

With that, Jen grabbed the car keys and headed out, leaving Anya standing dumfounded, still holding a spoonful of apple paste for her daughter.

---

She brooded all the way to her parents. Skipping breakfast wasn't helping her mood, and when she got there, her mother opened the door.

"Hi. Where's Dad?" she asked.

"He's in the back garden."

"I need to talk to him."

Jen pushed past her mother, into the house. She found her father by the pond, clearing weed. He looked up, surprised.

"You got a minute?" she asked.

"Of course. Why don't you wait in the back? I'll go wash my hands."

"Okay."

Jen turned back into the house and saw her mother, standing under the archway into the kitchen area, arms folded, a quizzical look on her face.

"Would you like some tea? Something to eat?" her mother asked.

"Do I look hungry?"

"Yes. You're in a mood. Maybe eating will help."

Jen cut herself off, a retort on the tip of her tongue. With an effort, she let it slide, and her mother disappeared into the kitchen, emerging a few minutes later with a cup of tea and a slice of banana bread.

"I just baked it fresh. It should be nice and soft in the middle still, and warm."

Jen took the plate, smelling the home cooking, and suddenly found that she was hungry after all. She took a bite.

"Good," she conceded, "It's good."

Her father came in, wiping his hands.

"Gerard, do you want a slice too?"

He shook his head, muttering, "I'm fine."

Gerard turned to his daughter. "And how are you?" he asked, sinking down into an armchair.

They made small talk for a while, until Jen realised that her parents were never going to bring up what had happened on the previous visit. She put down her empty plate and ran a hand through her hair, pausing.

"Look, the reason I'm here, I just want to talk about that. Okay?"

"Of course," her mother replied.

"Okay, I just have the one question, really," Jen said, and took a deep breath, "Why do you want to hurt us so much? Why do you want to hurt me? Even without this new law, even though that changes everything, even just putting that aside, you never even called since we were here last. Henry told you I'm pregnant, and not a word. Do you hate me that much?"

Jen clamped her mouth shut, fighting to stop her hands from trembling.

"Oh, Jennifer, don't say that," her mother gasped, her face suddenly creasing in anguish.

"Christine...," Gerard interjected, "Please."

"No. I can't let that go. Jennifer, we do love you, more than anything."

"More than some principle that dictates how you live your lives? Some teaching from some book that means more to you than your daughter?"

"It's not like that...," Gerard snapped, bristling, but Jen continued regardless.

"More than some damn rules that you've made up yourselves, and now you're pushing onto everyone, because I slipped your clutches and this is the only way you can see to get back at me for escaping from you?"

"That's rubbish," her father retorted, forcefully.

"Is it? Is it really? Do you want to know what my life is like, Dad? I mean, do you wanna really know? Shall I tell you?"

Her pulse was racing now, and Jen looked from her father to her mother. Her lip curled, but before she could speak, her mother held up her hand.

"Jen, wait," she said.

It was the expression on her mother's face that stopped Jen mid-flow. Her mother got up and beckoned Jen to follow her as she walked out of the room.

"Christine," her father began, "What are you...?"

"No," her mother said, her attention focused on her husband.

Gerard looked from his wife to Jen. Slowly, Jen got to her feet and followed her mother down the hallway to her father's study. Her mother came to a halt by a cupboard against the back wall.

"I can see the hate, Jen," her mother began, "The way you look at your father. But he's just trying to do what he thinks is best."

"What he thinks," Jen echoed, mockingly.

To her surprise, her mother didn't reply. Instead, she opened the cupboard, revealing the door of a safe.

"Could you please bring me the laptop?" she asked over her shoulder as she began to enter the combination.

Jen didn't move, watching her mother suspiciously as she tugged the metal door open and began to rummage through the papers and the envelopes inside. When her mother extracted a small, white envelope, Jen shivered, assaulted by a sudden nameless dread.

"Laptop, please."

The brisk tone of her mother's voice roused Jen into action, picking up the laptop from the desk and handing it to her. Jen watched as her mother powered the laptop on, then opened the envelope and shook it. A small memory stick dropped into her hand, and she slotted it into a port on the side. She placed the laptop on the desk and tapped the keyboard for a few seconds, before turning the screen around for Jen to see.

"Press play."

Jen looked up from the screen, seeing the trepidation on her mother's face. The dread intensified.

"What's this?"

"Just, please, just press play."

Jen folded her arms, defiant. To her surprise, her mother didn't snap at her or argue. Instead, she seemed to crumble in on herself. That alone was enough to scare Jen. Her mother defeated was not something she ever saw.

"What're you going to show me?"