by Lesley Jones
He bends his knees so we are eye to eye, even in my heels; he’s a good few inches taller than me. “Show me.”
“What?”
“Pull your skirt up and show me your stockings.”
“Fuck off.”
“Don’t swear Kitten, it’s not nice, now pull up your skirt and show me what you’re wearing.”
“Fuck nice and no.”
“Did you wear them for him?”
“Who?”
“That fucking idiot you walked in here with.”
“Stop swearing Tiger, it’s not nice and it’s none of your fucking business.”
He pulls me with him while he walks backwards and rests his butt on the edge of his desk, holding me at arm’s length; he slides my skirt up my thighs to my hips, then seems to change his mind and pulls it back down again. My belly drops to the floor as that horrible, horrible feeling of rejection hits me and for the first time in almost four years, I think I might cry. He takes a step toward me, reaches for my hip, undoes the button and slides down the zip, because the skirt’s fully lined and a little lose, thanks to the amount of cocaine I’ve been shoving up my nose every weekend for the past six months. My skirt slides silently to the floor and from somewhere, confident George appears. I step out of my skirt and away from him, shrug out of my jacket, pull my blouse over my head and stand in front of him in my pale pink La Perla lingerie. I put my hands on my hips, open my legs and look him square in the eye, his gaze doesn’t meet mine, his eyes are looking over my body, and I feel a little self-conscious. I know I’m a little too skinny, too many drugs, too much gym, too much misery doesn’t set you in good stead for a great appetite but judging by the tepee that’s forming in his trousers, he likes what he sees. His hands are gripping either side of the huge oak desk and his knuckles are white, his eyes rest on my tits, which finally seem to have decided to stop growing, I’m five feet eight and only just filling out size eight clothes right now but I still need an E cup bra to fit my tits, making dresses an almost impossible wardrobe choice for me. Luckily working in the business, I just get things either tailor made or altered.
“Turn around,” Cam’s voice makes me jump as it rasps out, his gaze finally meeting mine, I turn very slowly, once I have my back to him, I pull the scrunchy out of my hair, shake it out with my fingers and let it fall down my back.
“Jesus fucking Christ Kitten.” I look over my shoulder at him.
“What Tiger, what’s wrong?” His brown eyes are almost glowing, they shine so brightly, his cheeks are flushed and I reckon he must have a whole tribe of red Indians sitting in that tepee judging by the size of it. I wink at him and he makes a sound in his chest that’s almost like a growl and I have to control the little whimper that almost escapes my throat.
“Come here,” he orders.
“Please,” I say.
He stands up straight, he’s so tall, he must be at least six feet five and broad and just so, so…
“Come. The. Fuck. Here… ” Masterful. I turn all the way around so that I’m facing him again and take a step forward, then jump straight into his arms as someone bangs loudly on the office door.
“Fuck!” We both say together.
“Cam, you better get out here mate, this blokes going off his narna and smashing up your birds motor.”
I look straight at him. “Hilda… I’ll fucking kill him.”
Cam looks at me totally confused. “Stay here, I’ll sort the little prick out.”
He looks me up and down, walks over to a cupboard in the corner and pulls out a sweatshirt. “Put that on and stay here.”
He unlocks the door by flicking a catch on the handle. Well fuck, it didn’t need a key after all, and marches outside. There’s no way that I’m staying put while Hilda gets smashed up, I know it’s no less than I deserve after the way I treated Lee but my Dad’s blokes spent months finding the parts fixing her up and that’s after the six months it took me and my Dad to actually find one that was worth fixing up. My Dad had begged me to let him buy me something new, like he had my brothers when they passed their test but for some unknown reason, I’ve always wanted a burnt orange and black Triumph Herald, with a walnut dash and a sunroof, and being the daddy’s little princess that I was, I eventually got my own way.
I went over to the big oak wardrobe looking thing in the corner and found a pair of jogging bottoms, I spent a few more seconds being nosey, looking at the shirts and ties and giving them a little sniff as I did, I couldn’t help it, he smelt so delicious. I could hear sirens outside and flew out of the office, the bar was quiet, with most of the patrons watching the show that was going on outside. I pushed my way through the crowd, I hadn’t had chance to pull the joggers on but the sweatshirt came down to my knees anyway.
I assumed the pile that was on the floor with three of Cam’s doorman leaning over it was Lee but I couldn’t really see. Cam had his back to me, standing in front of my car, talking to a Policeman. It went quiet as I approached him.
I trod on something sharp and cried out in pain. I’d kicked off my heels to pull the joggers on and was now just stood in my stockings. Cam swung around as he heard my “Oww shit.”
He dragged his hand through his hair and shook his head. “Excuse me a second, officer,” he said very politely. He had a very strong East London accent, stronger than my Dad’s and it sounded strange hearing him speak so nicely to the Policeman. “Kitten, I told you to wait inside, there’s glass everywhere. Where’s your shoes?”
“What’s he done to Hilda?”
“Who the fuck’s Hilda?”
“My car.”
He laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“Your fucking car’s called Hilda?”
“That’s not funny, that’s her name. What’s he done to her?”
Another Police car pulled up, Cam’s bar staff started telling people to either head inside or head home. “Finish your drinks people. I’m closing up early, Steve will remember you all and you can have a free one on me next time you’re in,” Cam called out. Shit, he was going to lose money tonight and all because of me.
The doorman stepped away from the pile on the floor that was Lee, as two Policemen handcuffed him and picked him up, he had a split lip and a bloody nose. He spotted me straight away, more to the point, he spotted what I wasn’t wearing and Cam’s arm around my shoulder, he threw himself toward me. “You cunt, you fucking cunt, I loved you, you bitch, I fucking loved you. Why? Why would you bring me here and do this?”
I didn’t know what to say, usually I blew them out and left or I did it over the phone, I never got to see the fallout, well I did tonight, in full blown Technicolor and I felt terrible, I had left ten different blokes in this kind of a mess over the past six months, all so that I could feel better about myself and now I felt worse than I ever had before. I felt ashamed, my parents would be ashamed of what I did tonight, my brothers would be ashamed, even Jimmie wouldn’t back me up on this one. I looked down at the ground and followed the trail of glass to my car, my poor smashed up car, the windows were all smashed and the roof was torn, the bonnet and the sides were full of dents, my poor Hilda and as much as I knew I deserved it, my temper kicked in. “You bastard, what did you do to my car?” I launched myself at him, clawing and kicking but Cam yanked me back before I made any kind of contact, the Police started to drag Lee away.
“You’re a slut Georgia, a two timing slut!”
“Yeah, well you’re a shit shag with a little dick, no wonder I went looking elsewhere.”
I stood looking at his back; I was barefoot, in a ten sizes too big sweatshirt, wearing stockings and suspenders underneath. I put my hands on my hips and watched as the Police took him away. When I turned back around to face Cam, he was standing with three of his doorman and two Policeman, they were all laughing their heads off.
“What?” I asked confused.
“It’s not funny, look at poor Hilda, my Dad’s gonna kill me!”
Cam i
nstantly stopped laughing. “Shit.” I heard him hiss.
“I think you’ll find it’s me that he kills kitten.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Don’t worry Tiger, I’ll protect ya.” I winked at him.
CHAPTER 11
After tiptoeing back to Cam’s office, pulling on his joggers and spending half an hour giving a statement to the Police, I was ready to go home. I’d managed to get back there before everyone else came barging in and throw my clothes in the wardrobe, ashamed with myself for being so slutty with Cam earlier and taking them off. I had no idea where I was going with my little strip tease, it was most definitely not what I had been intending to do when he dragged me in here. I had wanted to claw at his face initially, not his back, but there was just something about him, something that I couldn’t say ‘no’ to and I needed to get it under control. I wasn’t ready to feel yet, that wall around my heart wasn’t ready to come down. I doubted very much that Cam was interested in anything more than sex and I was so afraid I’d want more and I don’t think my heart could be rebuilt if it were to be broken again.
I had noticed that as the Police were leaving that they had told ‘Mr King’ that they’d be in touch and I sat twirling faster and faster in the big leather chair behind Cam’s desk while he showed the nice Policemen out. It occurred to me that he’d named his wine bar after himself, flash bastard, funny actually though, as the club my Dad had bought into was called Kings. I let these thoughts wander through my brain as I stared up at the ceiling whilst still spinning madly in the chair. It suddenly jolted to a stop and I was turned around slowly to meet Cam’s brown eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Twirling, you should try it, its fun.” His lips twitched in the slightest of smiles; he pulled me out of the chair, sat himself down in it, pulled me into his lap and began to twirl us both around while he held on to me, a little too tightly, I lifted my legs up, put my feet on his legs and curled into him.
“You’re right.”
“I’m female, of course I’m right.” He gave out a really big, loud, laugh, which for some reason made me smile.
“Oh Kitten, you do make me laugh.”
“Why? I didn’t say anything funny, I just stated a fact.”
“Is that right?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
He shook his head but smiled, reached out for the desk, grabbed it and stopped the chair from spinning anymore, we sat still and silent for a few seconds, blue eyes into brown, he stroked his finger over my cheek, circled it around my chin, and then traced the outline of my lips.
I forgot to breathe.
“You are all bullshit and bravado, why do you put on such a hard front kitten? All spitting and snarling, when I don’t think that’s really you at all.” I bit his finger as it lingered on my lips, probably using a little more force than was necessary. He shook his head, again.
“Why are you always shaking your head at me?’
He strokes up and down my arm, over the curve of my shoulder. “Am I?”
“Yep.”
“Perhaps it’s because you frustrate me.”
“You barely know me, how do I frustrate you?” I don’t know if I feel hurt that he thinks this or happy that I have at least some kind of effect on him. Do I want to have some kind of effect on him? God I don’t know, I don’t know anything where he’s concerned. My life might be a mess right now but it’s a mess I have control over and that’s the way I want it to stay. I don’t want my emotions roller-coastering all over the place; in fact, I don’t think I’m ready for emotions of any kind in my life right now. I’ve survived the last few years without them and I think that I’ll manage without them for the next few.
“You frustrate me because you so obviously put on a front; I wish you would just be yourself, at least for me.”
“Why, why does it matter who, or what I am around you?” He twirls my hair around his fingers, it’s such a simple thing but for me, so intimate.
Yes I’ve had sex with men, ten of them in fact, over the last six months and some would say that’s the ultimate act of intimacy, but not for me. For me, it was a cold and unfeeling act of power and control. I rarely let them kiss me, I gave them the best sex they’d ever had but just that, they got no part of me whatsoever. I didn’t hold hands with them, unless they took mine and left me with no choice, I didn’t stroke or lick or suck. I just fucked, but I did it so well that they couldn’t get enough, just so that I could hear them say those three little words then have the pleasure of walking away, but this, him playing with my hair like this, was so much more intimate to me than anything else I’d experienced in the last six months. It was the most intimate thing I’d done with any man since Sean!
“Because I like you Kitten, I like you a lot and I want to get to know you, the real you, not the spitting, clawing alley cat you seem to want people to think that you are, and the first thing I want to know is what’s made you like this? Who did this to you? What did they do… hmm?” He raises his eyebrows at me like he’s actually waiting for an answer, well fuck that, I’m not spilling my guts to him so that I can get the pitying look I’ve got from everyone else these past five years.
“I need to go home; I’ll get my Dad to arrange for my car to be towed tomorrow.” I move to slide off of his lap.
“Don’t go, don’t run away Georgia, stay and talk to me.” He holds me in his lap, his hands on my hips, his eyes looking right into mine, through mine, into me and I have to go, I can’t have him seeing through me, into me, to the real me, I can’t.
“I need to go Cam, please let me go.” He shakes his bloody head at me again.
“You’re shaking your head.”
“Coz you’re frustrating the fuck out of me. Would you have had sex with me, earlier, before little limp dick went all mental and started smashing things up? If we hadn’t been interrupted, would you’ve let me fuck you?” My cheeks burn with embarrassment at the thought of my earlier behaviour, I shake my head very slightly.
“No Cam, you wouldn’t have fucked me… but I might have fucked you.” He lets out a deep breath, almost a hiss, through his teeth.
“Get your stuff, I’ll take you home and don’t worry about your car, I’ve got someone coming for it now, I’ll get it fixed up for you.”
“You don’t have to do that, it’s my own fault, I behaved badly, and I got what I deserved.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “But do you want to be the one to tell your Dad what happened and why? Do you want your Dad’s blokes out looking for little dick, seems to me, the poor blokes got enough problems without Frank Layton putting a price on his tiny balls.”
I actually laugh out loud at the thought of Lee and his little cock and balls being chased by my Dad; shit he’s right, the least my Dad knows about the damage to my car the better. I chew on the inside of my lip.
“Okay but I want a receipt for the work, I want to pay the bill and make sure you tell them to be gentle with her, she’s getting on and needs to be handled with love.”
He frowns. “Who?”
“Hilda.”
“Fuck, right, yeah, of course, Hilda the Triumph Herald, how could I forget?” He smiles as he speaks, he looks so young when he smiles and I wonder again how old he actually is. I’m guessing twenty-nine, thirty…
“How old are you Cam?”
“Old as my tongue, bit older than my teeth,” he says with a shrug and looks away from me.
“My Nan always used to say that and she was like eighty or something when she died, are you as old as her?”
“Fuck off, let’s get you home.”
Cam dropped me off at my flat and we came to an arrangement whereby he would sort out the cost of the damage to my car as long as I agreed to go out for dinner with him Saturday night. I agreed. Of course I agreed there was just something about him that made me want to agree and try as I might, I didn’t seem to be able to fight it.
Saturday morning I had a fitting for my bridesmaid d
ress with Jimmie, she was having three of us and her older sister was being matron of honour. Jim being the funky little soul that she was, had chosen fantastic fifty’s style retro dresses for us, they were really simple, in a soft peach colour, with a strapless bodice a wide ivory sash to match the colour of Jims dress and then a full skirt that came just above our knees, with lots of petticoats underneath. Jimmies dress was the same style but where ours were strapless, she had lace over the bodice, with three quarter lace sleeves and a massive bow at the back of the sash around her waist, we all had little short veils for our heads, Jims was longer and covered her face, the whole thing was so her and I just loved it.
I got the usual telling off from Claude and Sally the dress-makers; I had to have my dress made slightly smaller every time we had been back for fittings, then my mother joined in the charge and started going on about how I spent too much time at the gym, at work or out clubbing, that I never ate and that I would never find a husband in a noisy, sweaty club.
“Actually, I have a date tonight and he’s taking me out for dinner,” I state loudly from where I’m standing on the podium while Claude darts the back of my dress where he wants it taken in.
A pin scrapes my skin, only just not piercing it. “Oww!” I complain, looking over my shoulder at him; we use Claude and Sall for lots of jobs for the shops and we referred lots of customers to them who wanted Bespoke tailoring so they we providing their services for free as a thank you to my Mum.
Claude looked up at me and rolled his eyes in an ‘I barely touched you’ expression. “Is there blood?” I asked.
“Oh do stop being such a drama queen Georgia, if you didn’t shock me with that last comment then I might not have moved the pin too close. You are being serious I take it? You really do have a date tonight, with a real man? Don’t go getting your mothers hopes up if you’re just trying to placate her.”
My family had no idea about the life I’d been leading these past six months, no idea I’d been leading men around by their dicks just for the pure pleasure of dumping them as soon as they mentioned the L word, as far as they were aware, I’d been a single party girl, living it up every weekend, which was also partly true and the story that I went with.