Shooting in the Dark

solution for me. There would be enjoyment in it. Perhaps it would be possible to reduce her to a shaking wreck? To undermine her totally, so that she becomes the agent of her own death.
    But no, I want her life. She owes me that much.
     
    The scratches on my face were not as bad as I feared. They are healing nicely. The thumb will take a little longer. There is no doubt that the woman intended to bite it off. I have had a tetanus injection and, for the sake of my neighbours, invented a dog. I have been in the wars, but I shall come through.
    Miriam wanted me to suffer for being unfaithful to her. It is strange to be thought unfaithful, because I would never dream of betraying her. But it is better this way; I cannot tell her the truth. She read about the punishment in a national newspaper. She bought a small cellophane packet of hardened steel nails from B&Q and handed them to me. She led me over to my work bench, which I keep in an alcove of the kitchen. She took the packet of nails from me and placed them on the bench. Then she took a hammer out of the tool box and placed it next to the nails.
    I looked at her enquiringly and she nodded. She didn’t smile.
    ‘Is this it?’ I asked.
    She went into the bedroom and returned with a packet of tampons and a reel of surgical tape. I tried to imagine what was going to happen. ‘Will it be bad?’ I asked, but she wasn’t going to say anything.
    She undid my belt and let my trousers fall around my ankles and she tugged at my underpants until they were around my knees. I felt ridiculous standing there in a T-shirt, but humiliation is an essential ingredient in a meaningful relationship.
    She asked me to open my mouth wide and then pushed one of the tampons inside. I now know the meaning of the word ‘absorbent’.
    ‘Now close it,’ she said. ‘Tight.’
    I brought my lips together and Miriam took the reel of surgical tape, tore a strip off and placed it over my mouth. The beginnings of an erection stirred between my legs.
    Miriam took hold of my penis and placed it on the work bench. It didn’t lie exactly where she wanted it, so she tugged at it, making me shuffle forward a few inches. I could feel one of the cross beams of the bench against my shins.
    I watched carefully while she opened the packet of nails and shook them out on to the wooden surface. I wanted to scream but the tampon had absorbed all the saliva I’d produced. She selected six of the nails and placed three on each side of my member.
    When she picked up the hammer and began joining me to the bench I closed my eyes.
     
    I went to the café this morning and Miriam’s boss was there, his maroon Jag parked outside. He’s younger than I expected, probably still in his twenties, but with a small tummy that would seem more suitable on a middle-aged man. He has nice manners and nice clothes and he smiles when he speaks to the girls, and the clever ones smile back at him, their faces lighting up as if by some internal illumination. He is in no way a hunk, his body is spidery and his face is close to a skull, with almost no soft tissue, the skin pulled tightly over sharp features.
    His manners and his clothes act as a mask to hide other attributes - like his brains - which are singularly lacking. But Miriam was smiling brightly along with the other girls. People are impressed by power, and within the confines of that café all the power resides in the man with the Jag.
    In the midst of all this I caught Miriam’s eye and she saw that I had seen what was going on. She looked away for a moment and then came back and locked on to me again. She gave me a look that no one else on the planet would be able to interpret. It was a look that said, OK, so I’m using my sexuality to impress my boss. Why not? He’s the man who pays my wages. He can make my life better or worse. He’s powerful. But underneath the look there was another statement: You’ve caught me. I’m going to be punished. Later, after work, I’ll submit myself to you. I’ll take whatever you mete out. Because you’re powerful too.
    And I looked back at her. I didn’t move my lips or my eyes. I didn’t nod or make any external signs. But I could see by her reaction that she understood every nuance of our silent dialogue.
    She wiped down my table and said, ‘What can I get you, sir?’
    ‘The all-day breakfast.’
    She scribbled on her pad, touched her chin with the end of the pencil and walked over to the kitchen. A few minutes later