Too Good Girl

by Eleanor Lloyd-Jones

When he was finished, I quickly wiped all signs of my brokenness from my face and held onto his forearms as he lowered me to the floor. He bent down and tried to kiss me and I ducked under his arm, giving him a quick smile as I shoved myself into the black shirt he’d given me ten minutes before.

  “Hey.”

  “What?” I kept my eyes focused on my buttons and sensed him walking towards me.

  “Syra. You okay? I thought you wanted—”

  I jerked my head up. “I did. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel—” I stopped and huffed out of my chest. “Look. You don’t want to be getting mixed up with me, okay? I’m a mess.” I laughed sarcastically and shrugged. “So what do I do with this tape?”

  He dragged his hand through his hair and pointed at my chest. “Just, y’know. Make yourself look sexy. I mean, not that you’re not already sexy, just…”

  “It’s fine. Stop babbling. I know what you mean. Make myself look like I want it, huh?” I gave him a small smile and stuck tape to my boobs like I’d watched Clara do a few times. “There. What do you think?”

  He smiled. “Yep. That should do it.”

  I walked over to him and looked up at his face. “You’re a good guy, Fred. Find a good girl, okay?”

  “I was beginning to think you were a good girl.”

  Scrunching my nose up, I shook my head. “Not good enough for you.” I slapped my palm on his chest and turned around. “Come on then. Lead me to the wolves.”

  As we walked out of the stock cupboard, me in my VIP uniform and the feel of Freddie between my legs, my heart thrummed noisily—mostly because I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but also because of the way Freddie had made me feel. He’d looked at me with those big eyes and he’d wanted part of me. He’d wanted me to give him something I’d never given anyone, and God only knew that was never going to happen. I may have been fucked up, but I wasn’t cruel. It was clear he liked me in more ways than one, and because of that, I had to steer clear from that point on.

  I followed him down the steps and to the largest of the private booths that sat nestled in the corner of the room. Plush couches in a deep blue velvet were hidden partially from view by voile drapes, and seductive lighting from floor lamps lit the area with a pink glow.

  Freddie stopped and turned to look at me. He planted his hands on my shoulders. “Doug is the boss, as you know. He will be watching you carefully. You’ll do great. Just be—” He stopped and pulled his lips into a thin line. “Never mind.” Glancing over my shoulder into Doug’s booth, he guided me inside. “So there will be around twenty people in here in about fifteen minutes. They’ll already be inebriated in some form or another, and they’ll likely not care about how much cash they spend. Doug will get a number of rounds on the house for them, but they will still tip you, I’m sure. You’ll need to memorise their orders because Doug likes that. He thinks it looks more professional. There’s a pocket in the front of your apron for any cash tips you collect, and they’re yours to take home. You may find that some of the men want to put their cash elsewhere. I’ll leave that up to you to handle.”

  I nodded and fisted the hem of my black hot pants. Clara had told me about the wandering hands of some punters, but that didn’t bother me one bit. I was used to being mauled and grabbed at for someone else’s satisfaction, so I’d take the rough with the smooth, as degrading as it might be for some. “So is there anything else I'm required to do? Lap dance? Blow jobs?”

  Freddie quirked his brow. “We are not a strip joint, Syra.”

  “I know. I’m kidding.”

  He nodded and smiled. “Okay then. I’ll leave you to it. Clara will sort you out with trays and help you fill the orders. Zach is on duty up here tonight too, and Rick is the bar manager.”

  “Okay.”

  “But you know where I am if—y’know—if you need me.”

  I rocked onto the sides of my feet. “Thanks, Fred. And don’t worry. I can handle myself.”

  He sauntered off lifting his hand to Zach for a high five on his way past before turning and walking backwards and shouting across the floor to me. “You are good enough, Syra Johnson. You just need to believe you are.”

  I inhaled a shaky breath and walked with purpose to the hatch, lifting it and stepping up. I walked around to find Clara and leaned on the bar beside her, watching as she polished a glass to within an inch of its life.

  “Do you have even the faintest clue what you’re getting into up here?” She didn’t look at me, continuing to polish, holding it up to the light every now and then to check for specks or smears.

  I shrugged. “Not yet. But how hard can it be to wiggle my arse and bat my eyes at a bunch of over-privileged dickheads for a few hours, huh?”

  She glanced my way before turning her attention back to her glass. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess you have it sussed. As I’ve said before, though, don’t take any shit. They might be over-privileged dickheads, but they still have claws and fangs.

  I rolled my eyes and grabbed the glass from her. “Is there a fucking genie in here? You’re going to make it disappear if you keep going.”

  A noise from the stairs had both of us turning our heads, and I watched as the rich and beautiful descended on us in a throng of laughter, perfume and diamonds. There were, as Freddie had said, about twenty of them, and Doug was right in the middle. He wore all black—suit, shirt and tie—and was draped in females. Two of them to be exact. Their silken hair trailed to their waists and their exposed legs stretched as far as the eye could see.

  “Jeeeeeesus.”

  “Yep.” Clara grabbed another glass and continued rubbing. “They have no fucking idea.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off them, much the same way as I hadn’t been able to stop watching last time I’d been here. “Why do you work in VIP all the time?”

  “Because the tips are better. And with tit tape, that means I can generally afford my rent on time and pay for my daughter’s basic needs without selling a fucking kidney.” She gave me a curt smile.

  “You have a daughter?”

  “Emilia. She’s almost two.”

  I smiled and looked back at the crowd who were falling over each other, trying to remain standing. “That’ll be a great story to tell her when she’s older.” I bit down to smother a giggle. “That you paid for her nappies with tit tape.”

  She whipped me with her cloth and told me to fuck off, so I did. I wandered around the circular bar, slowly following Doug and his crowd, quite mesmerised by how the other half lived, quite intimidated by their nonchalance and quite intrigued by what I was about to walk into.

  A click of Doug’s fingers had me snapping to attention and slipping out through the hatch before walking quickly to where he stood, the blonde from earlier still hanging from him, her tongue in his ear and her hand inside his shirt. I followed them and the rest of the clan into their booth and waited respectfully for them to get comfortable and decide between them what they were going to drink.

  One guy, quite obviously the youngest, looked like he was going to cum in his pants as a petite redhead straddled his lap and began rocking back and forth, her short skirt riding impossibly higher up her thighs.

  Men were so fucking easy.

  I thought back to Gavin and Liam, and even poor Freddie. All a girl had to do was show a bit of flesh, a bit of interest, and then reel the suckers in. As I glanced around the room discreetly, I knew that working here would mean I’d have the pick of the crop at my fingertips whenever the need called me. I’d just have to make sure it was never Freddie.

  Syra

  Everything to Feel Something by Lily Allen

  I SUPPLIED THE group of party people with drinks for four hours.

  Doug didn’t acknowledge me other than to order what he wanted. In fact, for the most part, I was ignored by everyone. They were self-indulgent and far too engaged in their antics to take much notice of a lowly barmaid, even if I
had spent time getting my tits out for them.

  It was rolling into the fifth hour—three am—when I seemed to materialise into something a little more interesting. I was collecting their empty glasses, bending over the low tables to reach them when I felt a hand on my arse. It stopped me in my tracks for a moment, and I closed my eyes to refrain from spinning around and laying out whoever it was that thought they could take without asking.

  A high pitched squeal behind me had me frowning.

  “I fucking told you it looked peachy as fuck.”

  And then I did spin around, the hand dropping from my flesh, and stared into the eyes of the blonde who had been practically fucking Doug with her clothes on all night. She snickered into her hand and buried her face into his arm.

  A barrage of questions and insults were worming their way out of my mouth, but I caught a look in Doug’s eye and swallowed them whole.

  “China.” He ran his fingers up and down the skin of her upper arm as he spoke. His eyes didn’t leave mine, and for the first time ever, I was scared of him. “This is my new recruit, Syra.”

  China?

  I nodded politely, and smiled at fucking China before bending at the knees to collect the remainder of the glasses.

  “Well, Syra, your arse is devine. I just had to have a pinch.” She gave me a wink and I smuggled a snort.

  What was it with all the fucking winking around here?

  “Thanks, I think.” I smiled tightly at her and picked up the last glass. “Excuse me.”

  As I was about to disappear behind the curtain, a hand wrapped around my upper arm, stopping me.

  “Why don’t you drop those off at the bar and join us for a bit, princess?”

  My heart clattered around somewhere behind my ribcage, and I slowly turned to face him. “I should probably go home. My shift ends in ten minutes and I’m back in tomorr—”

  “Come. Come and wind down with us.” He gave my arm a gentle but firm squeeze that meant so much more than the gesture itself and nodded. “See you in a minute.”

  I walked away without a backwards glance, scooted under the hatch and moved quickly around the other side of the bar where I finally breathed.

  “Blimey. What’s gotten into you?” Clara frowned as she relieved me of my tray. “You look like you've seen a ghost or something.”

  “I’m fine. Look, I’m—” I thummed over my shoulder and avoided looking at her. “I’m going to get Doug and his mates another round and then I’ll probably slip out and head home. My shift finishes in five minutes, but I’ll do this last run. Okay?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. I’ll clean up here. Zach is driving me home after he finishes at five.”

  I gave her a smirk. “Zach, huh?”

  “Piss off.”

  I smiled and moved to the back of the bar, quickly fixing another tray of drinks, even though I’d not been asked to, and walked with shaky knees back to the VIP booth—the booth I knew I should stay the fuck away from but that for some reason was tempting me towards it like I was its magnetic north.

  Standing to gather my wits just outside the curtain, I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, fighting against the massive void in my existence, fighting with myself to dump the drinks and run.

  I was on the verge of winning when he appeared again, pulling the curtain aside.

  “There she is.” He took the drinks from me, taking me by the hand and leading me into his private space. “Everyone, this is Syra.”

  Hands raised, smiles tipped and voices murmured hellos all at once, and I clasped my hands behind my back as I acknowledged each greeting with a small ‘hi’.

  “Come and sit.” Doug placed his hand in the small of my back and gently pushed me to the back of the secluded space to an empty spot on the largest couch. I was flanked immediately by China and her friend, who handed me one of the drinks I’d poured. I accepted it and smiled again.

  Smiling was exhausting, but I was out of my comfort zone with people I had no idea how to interact with, my boss watching my every move. What else was I supposed to do?

  “So, Syra here is friends with my boy, Jack.” Doug was talking to the guys who sat opposite, fawning over the other females, one of whom looked like she should be taken home to bed. Her eyes seemed to have a life of their own, rolling into the back of her head, which lolled around on her neck like it was going to snap off at any moment.

  I turned to China. “Is she okay?”

  “Who?”

  “Your friend over there.” I used my glass to point to the girl in the corner.

  “Judy?” She laughed and threw her head back. “She’s fine. She just can’t handle her booze like we can. She’ll be asleep in a few minutes.”

  I twirled the stem of the champagne flute between my fingers and pressed my lips together. “So, where are you guys all from? You don’t live in Faymere, do you?”

  The brunette, who had barely spoken to me, piped up. “We all live in Faymere.”

  “Oh, okay.” God. I needed to go home. This was painful, and I had no idea how to make it less so. I leaned forwards and slid my glass onto the table, standing up and shoving my hands into the back pockets of my shorts. “Doug, I’m erm... I’m going to get going. I’m tired and—”

  “Sit down.”

  I blinked and promptly did as I was told.

  Doug’s eyes were sharp and stabbed at me with a warning I was now too frightened to ignore. He reached out and handed me my glass, which I took, careful not to let him see the tremble in my fingers.

  “Drink with us.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded to the glass. I brought it to my lips and drank. And once I’d finished, he poured me another glass and I drank that too.

  I wasn’t sure how long we sat there. People’s voices became more languid, like dripping water in my ears, and my vision was hazy. Slumping back against the couch, I felt my body relax and my mind empty of the noise I carried around with me every day. At some point, people switched seats—some after a visit to the toilet; some when they wanted to converse with someone new—and after some time, I found myself squashed in a corner next to an auburn-haired guy with piercing blue eyes. He had a smile as white as Doug’s and a loud laugh. He was throwing champagne down his neck like it was going out of fashion and soon had his arm slung around my shoulders. The heat from him warmed me, and in my relaxed state, I didn’t mind much at all. My head eventually found itself on his shoulder and his hand found my knee, then my thigh. We remained like this for a little while longer and then everything changed.

  Zach popped his head around the curtain and he and Doug spoke in hushed voices. Doug nodded, shook Zach’s hand and then stood to his feet. He took off his jacket, slung it over his shoulder and then left.

  I glanced up at the guy I was sitting with, my eyes blinking heavily at him. His square jaw was dusted with stubble and the dimple in his cheek winked, fucking winked, at me when he turned his head to smile.

  Smiles and winks: the language of the wealthy.

  “Where did Doug go?” I could tell my voice wasn’t coming out how it usually did, but I was past caring about anything but how warm and how empty I felt for a change.

  He dragged his thumb down the middle of my lips and then leaned in to capture my tongue, swirling it with mine as his hand climbed higher up my thigh. Pulling back he took a swig of his drink and then settled beside me again, his arm still dangling over my shoulder, but this time with his hand over my breast. I looked down at it and then back at him.

  “He’s gone to get the good stuff, baby.”

  I turned back to the curtain as I saw it move and watched Doug walk back in, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Australia’s finest, ladies and gents!” He had what looked like a small treasure chest in his hands. I watched carefully as he knelt in front of the low table and placed the box down in the middle, lifting the lid carefully.

  China sat up straight an
d squealed, her hands clapping together like an excited toddler. “Me first, Dougie Baby! Me first!” She shuffled her backside to the edge of the sofa and leaned forward with her purse, sliding out a fifty pound note and rolling it up.

  Doug slid a crystal clear mirror from a shelf underneath the table and then pulled out a credit card from his wallet. Pouring a pile of white clumps from the box onto the mirror, he crushed it with the flat of his card, over and over.

  I watched on with a strange interest and a swarm of bees in my stomach.

  ***

  “Fuck, Syra.”

  “You like that, huh?” I was on fire. I was on top of the world. I was the greatest lover that ever existed and the man between my thighs thought so too. I threw my head back and laughed loudly. “You want me faster?”

  After my first line of coke, I’d learned his name was Trent.

  After my second, I became acutely aware of how good I was at getting men to fall for me. I was the best damn flirt in the room.

  And after the third, I’d whispered in his ear that I wanted him to take me.

  Trent’s hands were gripping my waist as I fucked him harder than I’d ever fucked anyone. I was invincible, and my life could suck my proverbial dick. I heard him grunt, and I rocked faster, desperate to feel that release he was so clearly enjoying.

  But it wasn’t there. As always, there was nothing.

  We lay beside each other panting until I felt the effects of my last hit start to wane, and swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I bent down to find my clothes. I’d been high as a fucking kite on the world’s most expensive cocaine but it was time to move. I needed to get out. Fucking Trent had emptied me for half an hour, but now I was filling up again. I couldn’t let these men I slept with form emotional attachments to me, nor me to them, and Trent was no different, regardless of how charming he was.

  I glanced around the large room as I slipped my arms into my bra straps. There was a chaise longue in the corner and the four poster bed in the middle. I couldn’t quite remember where abouts we were, but I knew we hadn’t left the club. It seemed strange to me in that moment, but I shrugged it off.