17
With the car parked, Luke scurried to keep up with Helen's long strides as they navigated the Saturday crowds of the city. She caught a lot of attention. Towering above everyone, head held high, heels clicking upon the ground, she drew admiring glances, second glances. More than once, the occasional passer-by became struck by the vision of Helen that they stopped dead in the street, almost causing chaos and Helen took it all without a sideward glance. She knew exactly how good she looked and didn't care.
Beside her, Luke felt invisible. Tagging along like a puppy, only the leash attached them together was one of fascination and awe. Then, without warning, Helen turned to the side, marching down an alleyway, where industrial bins lined the walls and nondescript doors led to the rear of huge shops filled with customers of all kinds. The alley led to another street, which led to another alley and then to a smaller, far less populated street where the sounds of a bustling city fell away, giving an almost parochial feel to the surroundings.
They appeared to have arrived at a far less commercial area of the city, where old warehouses sat bereft of their previous wares. Most were empty, broken estate agent signage promising new opportunities in square feet and blazing, perfect teeth, smiles as wide as the buildings themselves. All a little rough and dishevelled. Promises broken. Smiles losing lustre. Another alley beckoned, beside a warehouse that looked marginally better maintained than the others, and Helen came to a stop in front of a side door, where her fingers began to tap numbers into a keypad that looked far more modern than felt right for their surroundings.
The door clicked and, with a wink, Helen swung it open, sweeping an inviting hand toward the darkness beyond. Of course Luke hesitated. He looked up and down the alley, hoping that he hadn't fallen into some strange trap, never to see daylight again. Events were moving at an incredible pace and he found it difficult to keep up.
"Trust me." She held out her hand, long fingers curled, palm upward. His hand folded into hers. "Nothing is what it seems. Isn't that a cliché!"
With a laugh, she tugged his hand, forcing him to stumble in through the door and blinked as it closed behind them, leaving them in an almost-darkness. The black held at bay by the soft, green light emanating from the exit sign above the door. Helen appeared to know where she was going, her hand holding Luke's tight. So soft and smooth. Luke doubted she had ever performed any physical labour in her life.
She led him along a corridor filled with racks of some kind, before releasing his hand. Light streamed in through a crack as Helen opened another door, popping her head inside, curls becoming a halo. Then, she opened the door wider, cocking her head to the side and holding a silencing finger to lips tinted a far more subtle colour than the night before. Another quick glance outside and she slipped through the door.
Luke would never have expected to find such a place behind the industrial façade of the warehouse. High, plastered walls, painted a brilliant white, had spotlights throwing rings of varying colours against them. Chiffon curtains drooped from golden rails against the surface of the wall where no windows gave views of the outside world. Works of art hung from wires, dangling in the air, too high to see without turning heads to the rafters, even for Helen.
The place stood empty. A vast space populated by nothing but air and cold, brutal elegance. Within the open area, Helen's heel clicks echoed and rebounded from the walls, sounding like the ticks of a great clock. She headed toward a set of metal stairs at the far end of the space, leading up to a mezzanine floor, all glass and chrome and yet more stark, white walls.
"Mimi! I mean, Helen!" A man leaned elbows against the rail, hands clasped together as he watched Helen begin to take the stairs one at a time. A far cry from how she had rushed up the stairs in Luke's home. "You, my dear, are late. If she sees you here ..."
"She'll squeal and howl and rage and then beg me to come back. As she always does." Reaching the top of the stairs, Helen embraced the man, kissing him on both cheeks. "Darling."
"And who is this?" Extricating himself from Helen's arms, the man gave Luke an appraising look, from his shoes to his head. Without asking, he touched a manicured finger against Luke's chin, turning his head one way and then the other. "Oh, my! Look at those cheek bones! Helen, where have you been hiding this delight?"
Luke had not had any man look at him so filled with lust since that day with Allen at the school play. The man, skin so smooth and shining from skin creams and make-up, had a crooked smile upon his face. In days past, Luke would have called him a 'metro-sexual', but he had no idea what the accepted term was now. For certain, he didn't try to hide his attraction to Luke.
"Down boy. He dresses and is far too confused to deal with your unsubtle overtures of lust." At that playful warning, the man shrugged and it was as though a switch had clicked, no longer looking at Luke as though he wanted to devour him. "Luke, this is Carlo and, despite the name and those searing Mediterranean looks, he isn't Italian. He's from Darlington. I call him Carlo from Darlo. Because he hates it."
"I hate it because it's not in the least accurate, sweetie. Not that you ever let accuracy get in your way." Carlo gave Helen a knowing, sidelong glance before turning back to Luke, though, this time, without the obvious attraction. "So, 'Luke'. Not drag. Too short, no offence, sweetie. Trans? This is awful, but I might have ..."
Carlo had placed his hands on Luke's shoulders, then onto his waist and hips. The contact more to measure Luke than to grope. Once he had done that, Carlo had waved a hand in vague fashion toward Luke's clothing, grimacing, and Luke looked toward Helen in confusion. He hated to think what Carlo would have thought about the jeans and loose shirt he had worn before. As Carlo's voice trailed away, he headed through a door at the back of the mezzanine that Luke hadn't noticed, returning a moment later with an array of ties draped over his arm, sifting through them.
With a quick glance at an elaborate, huge clock upon the wall, Carlo began to hold the ties up against Luke's chest before dropping them to a nearby desk, almost sneering in disgust as he did so. The ties were all variations on a theme. Black with delicate patterns of other colours, none wider than an inch-and-a-half at the widest point. After much searching, sighing, more disgusted looks and more dropped ties, Carlo found a plain, matte black tie that he liked. He began to fasten the buttons on Luke's shirt.
"No. Leave the buttons open." Helen had watched all this in a silence matching Luke's own, but now she stirred, taking the tie from Carlo's hands. "We like a little peek-a-boo."
"This is all very odd." He couldn't take his eyes from Helen as she concentrated upon knotting the tie around his neck, adjusting his collar and stepping back to assess her work. "I'm still not certain what I'm doing here. It's fine and everything. But ... God! I haven't even said 'hello' to you yet, Carlo."
Carlo shrugged. In a fit of pique, he reached forward, opening up Luke's shirt a little more, adjusting the hang of the tie, all to show Helen that she didn't quite know everything. It all came across as a little surreal. A place like this, hidden within the depths of the city, and Luke couldn't begin to say what the place actually was. Helen, as he had come to learn in record time, lacked in the explanation department.
"We're shopping. Well, window shopping. Well, rack shopping." She tilted her head each time she changed the definition. "Carlo here has kindly offered to let us see some of the collections."
"Collections?" Luke gave the empty space, below, another look. There seemed little there that anyone could call a collection. "The paintings?"
"Oh, he's adorable. You have to keep him." With his arms crossed, Carlo gave Helen a tiny smile. "You haven't told him anything at all, have you? She does that, sweetie, don't worry. Step this way."
Once again, Carlo headed toward the door at the back of the mezzanine once again, followed by Helen. Luke could do nothing but dash to catch up, slipping through the door before it could close. They emerged on the other side of the wall, into what looked like the neighbouring warehouse, only this one looked far more like a warehouse. Boxes filled the floor of the space, with rooms where the other warehouse had none. It wasn't dirty, but it had a sense of use that the other warehouse didn't.
"I heard she's gone back to the Thirties. Again." As they walked along the warehouse floor, Carlo nodded at Helen's question. Each time they passed a door, Carlo pointed, but Helen shook her head. "She's run out of ideas. Coasting on past glories. If you ask me, she needs to retire and enjoy her millions. That one."
"The Neo-Regency collection? Bold." Carlo gave an admiring tilt of the head before gripping the door handle. "This seems a different thing for you, Helen. Why the new boy and this collection?"
"I'm repaying a debt and making up for old mistakes." Helen winked at Luke, who still found it difficult to understand what he had got himself into. "I'm giving Luke a vision of what his future could be."
Luke had no idea what that meant, but Carlo had opened the door and now moved his hand up and down the inside wall, searching for the light switch. If nothing else, Helen had taken Luke out of his comfort zone. Away from staid, stagnant routines and, if nothing else, he appreciated that. Whatever this place was, he would never have seen it without Helen. It was different, confusing and a little fun. Carlo found the light switch and the interior of the room became bathed in warm light, revealing the contents.
The gasp that came from Luke's mouth was not mirrored by Carlo or Helen, but nor would it. They knew what the room had contained. Luke saw it for the very first time and it was not something he could have expected to see were it not for the giant woman by his side. Helen was forcing him to expand his world and he couldn't be more grateful.