by CR Robertson
He patted my hand like the father figure he was and returned to the tea and biscuits, while I pulled on my trainers and headed home.
The constant thumping at my door hours later pulled me back to the land of the living. When I didn’t answer, Megan let herself in with her spare key.
“You look awful,” she declared from my doorway.
“Migraine,” I said, throwing my arm over my eyes at the treacherous light that invaded my room and made my head throb.
She slumped to the side of my bed. “Thank God,” she muttered. “I thought it was because of last night. You didn’t want to talk about it when you arrived back in the powder room, and then when I heard you had to leave early…”
Megan and I worked at the same law firm. Some days it was a blessing, others it was a curse, because she heard everything about me. My migraine was because of last night. I couldn’t work out how I felt after what I’d done. My afternoon sleep had been filled with steamy dreams and when I woke up, I swore I could feel him still deep inside me.
I struggled with the duvet that had me trapped. “To be honest I didn’t know what to say last night. You looked the same as when we went down, and I looked ridiculous with my make-up ruined.”
She laughed, helping me with the duvet and dragging me out of bed. “You looked like you’d been properly fucked for the first time in your life. The guys I found were okay, but their technique wasn’t great.”
The first guy flashed through my head.
“I brought you something to eat,” Megan continued. “Have you eaten anything today?”
I shook my head and then groaned when my head objected.
She popped food into the oven, poured us a drink, and came to sit beside me. I pretended not to notice her stare, spinning my glass on the counter.
“So, last night...” she said.
My body froze. There were some things you never discussed with your friends. This was probably in that category.
“I’m assuming you found someone to sleep with,” she continued.
Obviously, my silence wasn’t a good barrier to her curiosity.
“There was no sleep involved,” I muttered.
“O-kay.” Her voice went up and down as she pronounced the word. “I’d like to think your experience was positive by the way you looked when you came back.”
I lifted my gaze to her. “What makes you think I didn’t just find a corner to sit in for a few hours?”
“Your knickers were on inside out.”
Fuck, I didn’t notice that in my haste to get my clothes on, and I’d dragged them off me and stood under the shower for twenty minutes when I got home.
I swallowed a gulp of my drink and it stung going down.
“Carl was wrong, you know that.” Megan gripped my hand. She’d found me after my last disastrous relationship. Three years I spent with that selfish asshole to find out he’d been married. I thought he was a workaholic, and to be honest, I enjoyed my own space, so it didn’t bother me that he never mentioned moving in together.
Everything made sense the day I opened the door to an irate woman, clutching photographs taken by a private investigator. In the end she believed me, and we’d sat together waiting for the scumbag who seemed to be a habitual cheater.
He begged and pleaded with his wife, told her I seduced him, and then followed her when she ran away crying. Because I wouldn’t let him stay with me when he found his possessions in the middle of the road outside their family home, I was declared fat, frigid, and a terrible fuck.
Over a year later, those words still echoed inside my head.
“He was terrible in bed,” I said absently. “He poked and prodded, thinking he was getting me ready, when in reality, I was as dry as a camel’s ass. Then he did this strange three rapid thrusts and a pause, like he was engaging in the fuck tango.”
Megan’s eyes widened. “Who? The guy last night?”
“Carl. Do you know I had to stick lubricant up my pussy if I knew he was coming over, just so he wouldn’t be offended? He thinks women are turned on just by him tickling their lady lips.”
Megan nearly fell off her seat, pulling the barstool closer to the counter so she could rest against it.
“The person who created lubricant must be a multi-billionaire,” I continued, now on a roll about my deviant ex. “No woman wants to be mounted and humped just because a man feels randy. There are only eight days a month that mother nature wants to reproduce and gives us a helping hand. The rest of the time Mr. Lubricant sees the profits go up with his sales.”
Megan spluttered into her drink. I never talked like this; I had no idea what was wrong with me. I really needed to go back to bed and sleep off whatever had infected me.
“Looking back, we never really talked. He arrived here, had a drink and then wanted a quickie because he was on his way to an important meeting and it helped him relax. I thought he was a workaholic. Instead, he was going home to his wife and kids.”
“Carl was a shit,” Megan agreed. “But last night?” She looked at me hopefully.
“The first guy was trying until he couldn’t contain himself any longer.” I stared at my friend and frowned. “Is it too much to ask that a woman is allowed to come first? It’s like the age-old chicken and egg saga, neither came first, because they were both females.”
“Fucking hell, Cassie! What’s gotten into you?”
A Viking. That’s what got into me – physically. He sauntered in and fucked up everything I thought I knew about sex. Last night proved that every relationship I’d ever had was useless. The men I’d dated didn’t even care enough to give me an orgasm. I’d pretended it was all right because they cared about me, but I realised they’d just taken and never given anything back.
Instead, I shrugged.
“You said the first guy?” Megan probed. “Were there others?”
“One,” I replied while staring into my drink as if it had suddenly become interesting.
“He was the one who sent you back with your knickers on inside out.”
My eyes flew up in distress.
Megan sighed. “Good sex is not a crime. It releases happy hormones. The health service should put it on prescription.”
I arched an eyebrow in her direction.
“Look,” Megan continued, “I’ve had my share of terrible sex with bungling idiots who have no idea where the g-spot is—some don’t even believe it exists. Now I insist that my partner has to get me off before he gets his.”
I buried my head in my arms. “I should never have gone,” I moaned.
Megan got up to remove our dinner from the oven. “Nonsense, you’re just embarrassed because it was your first time. The more you go, the more liberated you’ll feel, and the less self-conscious you’ll be about asking for what you want.”
My head snapped up. “I’m not going back.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve signed up to a yearly subscription.”
I groaned and buried my head again. There was no way I was going back there.
***
Chapter Four
Xavier
A run normally cleared my head. The thought of having to deal with my father later was enough to make me speed up.
“Hey!” Ash shouted as he quickened his pace. “What’s up with you today?”
“Same old crap—family business. Dad wants to expand again, and I think we should leave it alone for a while.”
He held his hand up for a timeout and bent over to catch his breath. “Expand how?”
I shrugged. “Different countries.”
His mouth opened in an ‘O’.
“Yeah, I know. The legalities are a fucking nightmare to navigate.” I stretched my limbs to prevent cramp since I had to wait for Ash.
Some girls slowed their paced to ogle us. Being judged for my looks was my pet hate. Women thought they had the right to paw over me because they thought I was cute, yet they screamed that they wanted respect. I generally only wanted someone to touch me on my terms.
A redhead gave me her best ‘I want to fuck you’ look, and I turned toward Ash to ignore her.
“I think that one likes you,” he commented dryly. He knew my stance on relationships: I didn’t do intimacy. People tended to want you for money, power, or the prestige of having you on their arm. I’d watched enough women pass through my father’s life to keep mine simple.
I worked hard but played harder, and women wearing that much make-up with that much confidence in their prowess did nothing for me. Too many step-mums in my past thought they should spice up their marriage to an older man by trying to bed his son. No thanks, I was a man whore, not desperate.
“Ready?” I nodded to him and he straightened.
“Why can we not just get liposuction like normal people?” Ash complained.
I enjoyed exercise. It cleared my brain and allowed me to focus on my problems.
“What did I miss last night?” my oldest friend asked from beside me.
A woman with curves that I would have loved to have flipped the lights on to see crept into my head. I stumbled upon her when that stupid asshole couldn’t even hold on enough to make her see stars. I never normally intervened while I was hunting for a partner, but her sigh told me that that kind of treatment was what she was used to.
As soon as my hands visualised her, I was hard as a rock and ready to go. The longer you spent in the dark, the better you could see. I recognised people by their scent, their voices, and my hands could visualise a body as well as my eyes. She was built for pleasure with all those soft curves. She wasn’t a virgin, but who was down there? But there was an innocence or naivety about her that intrigued me.
It was her scent that had drawn me into that room. She smelt like the Parma violets our housekeeper had bought me as a child. Even now they made me smile when I saw them.
“Zee?” I turned at the sound of my name. “Last night?”
“Sorry, yeah, too much in my head today. Same as always, man.”
He knew I got off on the idea of no one seeing me. The club was filled with frustrated housewives, businesswomen, or ladies too scared to order a male prostitute for the night. In The Midnight Rooms, everyone was equal.
“Going tonight?” he asked.
“I can’t, family commitments. Dad’s latest wife is throwing a temper tantrum and I’m expected to be at a business dinner with him instead.” Why my father couldn’t be happy by himself I had zero idea. Mum died when I was nine, and the women who followed were a constant stream of bimbos looking for a sugar daddy.
“No worries, I’ll pop by on my way home from work and keep the ladies satisfied in your absence.”
I laughed and slapped him on the back. There were a lot of ladies there. He’d be busy.
***
Chapter Five
Cassandra
Documents and plans were strewn across my desk. Megan was a divorce solicitor, but I worked on the property side of the law. Conveyancing, when you buy or sell a house, was logical. Dealing with property titles through generations, and the legal intricacies in new projects, was a minefield.
Normally, I felt at ease when surrounded by the law. It was safe with rules to follow, and that was what I craved in my life. Stability.
Megan and I met when we were children who’d found themselves in the local children’s home. No, we weren’t bad, but sometimes life was shit and fate allocated you more than your fair share of crap to deal with. Megan’s parents were killed when she was three and there was no family to take her in.
My parents and little sister were killed in a car crash when I was ten. I had vague memories of Mum and Dad whispering and putting bags into the boot of our car before we left my childhood home. Mum had woken both Kimberley and me, telling us we had to dress quickly. I remember pulling my tracksuit on over my pyjamas because I was so tired.
I only recollected the loud bang and then the car was upside down for what felt like hours. Even now, my body rejected the memories, freezing and going into shock if I tried to probe too deeply. Every counsellor I’d visited over the years discovered the same thing. They put it down to childhood trauma and the images of my dead family.
Every storm cloud had a silver lining, and my friendship with Megan had been my salvation in that home. Two children found each other and forged an unbreakable bond. We were sisters in every way that mattered. DNA was overrated anyway, in this day and age. I watched how families treated each other when money got involved, tearing each other’s emotions apart.
My nails drummed a tribal beat on the desk as I flicked through the paperwork that refused to make any sense. Coloured tabs were helpfully stuck here and there demanding my attention.
“Lunch?” Megan popped her head around the door, and I leaned back in my chair to watch her.
“Where?” I asked suspiciously.
Some of her menu choices were terrible. Personally, I was an all-day pancake sort of a girl. Megan was constantly engaging in weird diets and fads that make me want to wretch.
She waved off my word as if it meant nothing. “I come in peace with the need for carbs.”
I grinned. Pancakes it was.
Grabbing my bag, we headed for lunch.
The closest restaurant that catered to my cravings was a few streets away, but within walking distance. There was no need to examine the menu, a stack of pancakes with bacon and maple syrup was my usual.
Megan made a big deal out of studying all four pages.
“What’s up?” I asked. She never allowed evil carbs into her body without a reason.
She shrugged. “I saw Mark again today.”
He was the “one that got away”, her ex she never got over. Mark was also a cruel bastard who mentally tortured her on and off for several years.
“Mark who?”
Her eyes narrowed in my direction before a hint of a smile touched her lips. “Thanks,” she muttered.
I refused to talk about Mark the asshole. Every time she tried to go down that memory lane again, I dragged her back kicking and screaming until she remembered why they split up in the first place, and why they finally called it a day.
I decided to take her mind off her unhappy past. “So, what are all the red dots for?”
I’d noticed them when I was trying to find my way back to the ladies’ elevator. Some rooms had two small LEDs outside them, others three or four, and they varied in patterns.
Her lips twitched and a mischievous smile played on them. “There is a red glow at the top of the doors. As you go into the room, there is a switch on the right-hand side. Flip that and the glow goes out to say the room is in use.”
My eyebrows rose.
“Unless, of course, you’re willing to accept multiple partners that night,” Megan continued. The Viking flashed through my mind. “Then anyone can come into the room while you’re entertained.”
“And the red dots?” I asked, taking a sip from my iced water.
“They tell you what type of room it is and what you’re willing to indulge in while you’re in there.”
I choked on the evil water determined to assassinate me. “I’m sorry?” I gasped.
A huge grin spread across her face. “Why? What did you indulge in?”
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I gasped for air. “I’m more worried about what I might have been subjected to if I wandered into the wrong room.”
No one had ever dared to spank me, and the thought of it brought a ferocious blush to my cheeks. I never thought of myself as a prude before, but suddenly, I realised how inexperienced I really was when it came to sex and relationships. I’d no idea what to answer when the first guy had asked me what I wanted. There was obviously a menu that I’d never been shown before. My eyes flicked to the menu I never opened on the table when I ordered my pancakes. It stared at me in accusation, taunting me with all the tastes I’d never experienced.
My eyes came up to find Megan staring at me, trying to find the secrets I guarded in my head.
“There is a re
d dot in the corner that seems to signify supplies,” I ventured, trying to not let her see my inner turmoil.
“Condoms and lubricant can be found throughout The Midnight Rooms. As you aptly pointed out, Mr. Lubricant makes a lot of money because women aren’t ready to spread their legs and scream out an orgasm just because a man fucks us.”
A squeak sounded beside our table as our waitress brought our food. We needed to start having these conversations in private. I dared a look to find an incredibly embarrassed woman frantically trying to sort out our orders.
I was going to apologise, but Megan looked directly at her. “You know what I mean, right? He’s ready to go in five seconds flat and orgasms every time, but our anatomy needs some fine-tuning to get us ready for ignition.”
“I…” She turned pleading eyes in my direction.
“You don’t have to answer that,” I reassured her. “My friend’s just going through a bad break-up and its war against anyone with a penis.”
She cast a quick glance at Megan and nodded before scurrying off.
I gave Megan a pointed look with an arched eyebrow and she shrugged.
“She shouldn’t have been listening,” she mumbled.
I moved my pancake stack around until it was like petals of a flower before drizzling my maple syrup. The bacon was crispy, just the way I liked it. I bit my bottom lip as I studied it. There were moments in your life that brought a happy smile to your face and this was one of them.
“One light means you’re up for vanilla with one person at a time,” Megan brought me back to our original conversation. “Two lights side-by-side means you’re willing to take on two partners at a time, while two lights, one above the other, means you’re willing to take on two partners of different genders.”
I froze with my pancake halfway to my mouth and stared at her. “Huh?”
“You know, a male and female.”
“I understand what different genders means,” I snapped. “I don’t understand the concept of multiple partners at the same time. Why?”
I was fast accepting the fact that I had been a sexual hermit, living on a diet of unsatisfactory experiences with selfish partners. Never, in my ridiculously limited experience, had I ever considered more than one person at a time.