by Karen Botha
I’m at the factory doing some wind tunnel tests when my phone vibrates.
Daisy: “Can we meet?”
I’m not sure how to reply. She’s caught me off guard and although I don’t have any issue with meeting her myself, knowing in the back of my mind that Kyle wouldn’t like the idea creates a sense of trepidation about how to reply. Plus, it’s not like we’ve met loads over the years, so why is she messaging me now?
I push the phone back in my pocket. I’ll deal with it later. Right now, I’m more interested in seeing what Kyle has been working on for the past few weeks.
I shove my hands in my pockets and trudge down to the workshop, preparing for the lower temperature down there. As I enter, I’m transported back to the time when we first met. It feels like a lifetime ago, so much has changed since then. But standing here now, watching Kyle work without a clue that I’m here, touches my heart. I’m struck by how quickly life moves forward.
Kyle, only a few months earlier the newbie on the team, is explaining to Ryan how far to screw the tiny nuts that secure part of the chassis.
“You like it?” James ambles over, breaking my trance.
“Sure, it looks good so far. The test will come on the track though. What do you think?” I reply.
“That this is the best car you’ve ever driven.” He nods as he speaks, a smirk curving his lips. “You might have to lose a few kilos though. There’s not much left in it weight wise.”
I snap my head toward him. “Are you kidding?”
“Nope.”
Until that point I’d been standing up straight, but at the thought of having to cut five or six pounds from my already lean frame is enough to make me slump. “I don’t have anything to lose. It’ll be muscle and then I won’t have the stamina.”
I’m not really speaking to James, more to myself. If they want me to reduce my weight, that’s what I’ll have to do. But now, rather than concentrating on how amazing this piece of machinery in front of me is, I’m considering how I can diet without losing the muscle mass I need to endure a series of challenging long distance races.
My phone pings again. Daisy: “Just let me know when works for you and I’ll make it happen.”
She’s awfully eager all of a sudden. I’ll speak with Kyle about it tonight and see if he wants to come along.
Kyle
We had to come down to London to meet Daisy in her private members’ club. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I mind a trip in to the capital city. I love the place. But I saw the text she sent Elliott. ‘I’ll make it happen,’ she said. Hmm. As long as she accommodates us where it suits her.
When we walk inside I can see why she would choose this place.
The building oozes history, from the aged oak floorboards, to the huge picture windows overlooking Berkley Square right down to the quintessential service that the upper echelons of English society do so well.
Our deferential waiter has been filling our drinks without us noticing, and within ninety minutes of sitting down at the linen tablecloth, Daisy has me eating out of her hand.
It’s only at this point that she reveals the real reason she was so desperate to buy us lunch.
“I wanted to show you this.” She roots around in her bag and produces an iPad which she places on the table central to Elliott and me.
‘Here we go.’ I think.
Elliott doesn’t speak. He waits while she opens the document as though this is a natural way to end a luncheon. Maybe it is, but not in my world and once again I’m struck by how Daisy manages to illuminate a divide between Elliott and me which is otherwise non-existent.
“So, you know I mentioned that I had this idea bubbling away at the back of my mind ages ago?” she asks.
“Yeah...?” Elliott is smiling, nodding, eyes connecting with hers; he’s all in.
“Well, I’ve taken it to the next level, so it’s time for you to take a look if you’re still interested?” It’s a question, but somehow I get the impression we’re going to be given that presentation regardless of our answer.
“Sure,” Elliott replies, glancing at me, the clear expectation in his eyes that I’ll agree. Frankly, I don’t see a way for us not to. It’s like being held hostage on a timeshare weekend. You head out to some random place in the sun expecting a free break in return for nothing more than an hour of your time, and low and behold, you don’t leave until you’ve signed on the dotted line.
The hairs on the back of my neck lift.
She’s continuing to work the iPad as she tells us about this amazing business venture. She’s going to build low cost homes in the UK which she’ll rent out to the lower paid services sector such as nurses and fire fighters and then via some method which she hasn’t fully disclosed and which makes little sense to me, she’ll get the money out to the United Arab Kingdom so she doesn’t have to pay any taxes. Sounds dodgy as fuck to me.
“So, you see. This is perfect for you Elliott, because with your recent interest in building regulations, you can spear head the campaign and everyone will want to live there because you’ve endorsed it.”
I knew it!
For his part Elliott is still not saying anything. He’s rubbing his chin, but his mouth is zip locked.
Unperturbed, Daisy continues her pitch. “With you on board we’ll sell the property quicker meaning we can build more as we’ll be able to reinvest sooner.” She eyes Elliott. “So you see. This is the perfect match.”
Elliott
Kyle may as well be a glacier such is the chill freezing my one side, while Daisy on my other is all fierce business woman of the year. I’m torn between the two.
Daisy is smart. “You’re making sense. But is this legal?” I ask.
“Entirely. It’s a loophole in the law.” She goes on to explain how the logistics will be set up and why this is within the constraints of the law.
“OK, so let me assume that what you’re proposing is all above board and that I’m not going to end up in jail. What do you need from me if I say yes?”
“Oh, fabulous. I knew you’d think it was a great idea.” She leans forward and smothers me in a sweet scented hug. It goes on a little too long. Having Kyle here makes me on edge and where her exuberance wouldn’t have bothered me in the past, now it seems on the inappropriate side of acceptable.
I lean back.
She doesn’t let go, and moves with me.
And so it's necessary to push her away with a gentle flex of my hands on her biceps.
I feel Kyle relax next to me as she reorganizes her napkin on her lap.
“He didn’t say he was going to do this, Daisy,” he says.
“No, I just asked what you’d need from me, IF I said yes.” I laugh to ease the bite of my words, but she’s a big girl. She can take it.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself. But you know how I am with my babies.” She grins and brushes a stray strand of her black hair out of one eye, flipping the rest of the length over her shoulder with an exaggerated flick of her red taloned fingers. She truly is one of those women who has gotten better with age.
When we first met ten years ago, she was in her early twenties and still skinny with buck teeth. She’s grown into herself over that time and now, most likely with a little help, has filled out in all the appropriate places. Her black skin is radiant under a layer of expensive make-up and even though I’m not looking, her breasts fill her tailored blouse to perfection displaying the perfect amount of cleavage.
“I need you to push this. By that I mean that when you’re running your building control campaign, specify that affordable housing is available with all of these guarantees and that you are specifically supporting us la-la-la. All the usual stuff that you can churn out in a heartbeat.”
I tip my head to the side, assessing her. She’s not made her money without sailing close to the wind. “Let me have the details and I’ll send it to my lawyer. Clifford will have a look while I’m thinking it over.”
I
’m twisted in my seat so I can’t see Kyle properly, but as I say this, I sense his tension ease. When I turn, he’s nodding his seal of approval.
Kyle
We say our goodbyes and head out of the club, leaving Daisy inside. She has to meet some people.
“Do you feel like we were invited down here simply to hear her pitch?” I ask.
“Hmm, perhaps.” Elliott winks. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re in London now and I for one want to make the most of it.” His arm slips round my waist as he stands aside for me to jump first into the black cab his security detail drives us around in.
“Where can we go that’s fun around here?” he asks.
“We have a membership to a new private members club, somewhere a little lighter than you’ve just attended?” our driver suggests.
“Where is it?” Elliott asks.
“Soho.”
That’s it, without further ado, we pull out into the traffic ready to light up the town.
We cross a path of black and white tiled floor to enter the basement bar through a huge circular hole in the wall. A walnut desk sits in front of the old bank vault. We’re granted access and head inside a lounging area with a combination of Art Déco style comfy chairs and sofas. The most spectacular part about this space is the walls. They’re the old safety deposit boxes so where this lounge bar could have been dank and dismal, the lighting does a sensational job of highlighting these quirky artifacts. Similarly, the acoustics which could have been a problem, are perfect. Easy beats ricochet off the metal casings, and three twenty-somethings who have obviously had more to drink than we did over lunch are swaying to the beat as though this place is their regular hideout.
“Have you ever been anywhere like this before?” I turn to Elliott, a huge grin spread across my face.
“No, never. This place is amazing.”
We stand at the door, for longer than is cool and survey the spectacle.
“There’s no bar,” I say.
“Don’t worry, just pick a seat and they’ll come and serve us.”
I’m not really a vibe kind of guy so it’s never been something I’ve taken much notice of, but this place definitely has a vibe.
“I love it in here.” The beat of the music reverberates inside me. It’s not so loud that I have to shout for Elliott to hear, but it’s loud enough to create a great atmosphere.
A waiter appears from nowhere and despite the no-doubt phenomenal price tag our security firm pay a retainer for to grant us and their other clients access to this venue, he’s not trussed up in a black and white tux. Instead he wears an open shirt and slacks. I have a selection of nine beers to choose from. Elliott orders a bottle of champagne.
“Why the heck not?” He laughs.
It’s lovely to see him so impressed by somewhere. We sit in companionable silence, just drinking in the wow factor.
“I guess being with you has its perks.” I nudge him, my mouth spread in a wide grin as my Thai beer is placed down. He leans in and I close my eyes in ecstasy waiting for his lips to brush against mine. The anticipation is enough for tension to build in my pants, and when our skin finally touches, a wave of pure elation washes from my lips, through my heart, and down into my groin.
“You’re doing it again,” I mumble as shivers race around my body.
He pecks me, slips down to my ear, and whispers, “Me too.”
The sultry move has me begging. “Let’s go find the bathrooms.”
Elliott
Jessie and the PR machine she has behind me would kill me if she knew what I was doing, but I can’t help myself. This man has me over a barrel and I love it.
I have about a millisecond to take in the black tiled walls and the surprisingly fresh smell in the bathroom before Kyle is on me. Our mouths and bodies lock, staggering backwards into a cubicle.
“At least the cubicle is a generous size,” I whisper as Kyle kicks the door shut and leans against it. Sometimes being politically correct can be so drab that I just need to break loose.
He rips at my belt with one hand while massaging my thrumming cock through my trousers with his other. His lips are all over me, kissing my neck, nipping at my ear before breaking free.
He stands back, and for a second, we exchange an intense look, an exchange of consent. He knows me so well, dipping his hand in my loose pocket and finding the tube I carry for this exact situation as I unfasten his jeans and they slip to his ankles.
The pressure on my wrists is more than he’s ever used as he slams them above my head. The booth rattles with the force as he collides against me, assaulting my mouth with his. Our tongues intertwine as our breath rasps in a rough exchange of our intense arousal. I stand, legs parted, unable to move and naked from the waist down, loving every moment of being taken by my man.
“Spin round.” His voice is whispered.
He releases my wrists, but I keep my sweaty hands high enjoying our carnal game. I plant my palms against the wall for support and boy am I glad I did. He uses the lube, but he’s rough. He forces me apart with two fingers scissoring inside me. I gasp as, with no warning, he presses against my nerve center.
The lights go on and I force him further into me with one animalistic curve of my spine.
“You want this don’t you, you filthy man.” His mouth hisses against my neck, the words so soft anyone outside the cubicle wouldn’t hear.
I nod.
He buries his hands in my hair, tugging my head back. “Tell me.” The roots of my hair light up my scalp under his pressure with an overwhelming kinky fucking hunger.
“I want you. Do this,” I manage, my voice strained in my taut neck.
That’s all he needs, his hand leaves my private space, but I’m only empty for a second before he’s thrusting into me, forcing me forwards until my cock is crushed against the freezing wall of the toilet booth. The contrast of incredibly hot and cold has me drowning in an overload of sensual excitements. My pounding head shatters in a release which splinters through my entire body. Each nerve end explodes in flashes of white light. My breath snags as Kyle empties into me, our pulsing perfectly timed.
And then we’re done. The passion is over and as time catches back up, we have to clean up and exit the toilet stall as though we’re just two guys who went for a piss.
We both laugh as he unbolts the door, like naughty school children breaking out of class.
“Fuck!” we say in unison.
A young guy is standing staring in at us, grasping his cell with the record screen live.
Kyle
“Give me that.” I rough the skinny opportunist up in an attempt to grapple the phone from his hand. There’s a split second where we make eye contact before he backs up to the sinks.
His eyes are wide, shocked at getting caught, but he doesn’t display any of the body language associated with fear. In one step, I’m level with him again, wrapping my large fingers around his skinny wrist. I resist the urge to snap his weak bones, choosing instead to apply enough pressure to force his fist open, depositing the device into my waiting hand.
His lips are pursed, his face pink even under the dim glare of the restroom.
“What’s wrong with you?” he screams.
“Give me the fucking phone,” I spit, applying a tighter squeeze.
Elliott hovers behind me. Unspeaking, I suspect he's considering the multiple ramifications of our heated passion in the cold afterglow of our love making. He knows he’s not needed, keeps a low profile, allowing me to deal with the issue.
The phone plops into the basin and I snatch it up before this idiot’s other hand has a chance to reach out and seize it. It makes a satisfying crack against the tiled floor as I drop it and stamp on the screen with my booted foot. The plastic crumbles.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Elliott pulls on my arm.
“You can accompany us,” I hiss at the skinny youth.
“No fucking way I’m coming with you,” he screeches.
&nb
sp; “It’s not like you have a choice.” I shove my face in his so I can smell his hot breath laden with cigarettes. He backs up but with nowhere to go and a good foot on him, I’m able to manhandle him forward, pinning his arm behind his back.
“Call the protection,” I instruct Elliott, but he’s thought ahead and is already on his phone. I hadn’t noticed with all the shenanigans.
“They’re on their way.” And two seconds later, our bodyguard/ cab driver and his accomplice burst into the toilets. The noise of the door bouncing off the wall echoes as I release my captive.
“What happened?” Alex, the bigger of our two on-call bouncers demands.
Elliott explains about us inadvertently making a home movie in as little detail as possible.
“The phone is smashed,” he finishes.
“Leave it with me,” he says, “The pair of you can head back to the car with Sinwar and wait for me.”
We make our hasty exit, leaving Alex to tie everything up. “What will he do?” I ask Elliott.
“Who the fuck knows?” He shakes his head as we take the steps out of the bar two at a time. “He's well aware we can’t have bad publicity so he won’t be spreading the word around with the management here about what we’ve been up to.”
He drifts off as we both consider the potential ramifications of what just happened.
Thunder bolts through my chest. I stop, grab Elliott’s arm. “What if he’s already sent the email somewhere, or worse, posted it before we caught him?”
“Let’s just get in this fucking car and off this street away from other prying eyes. The last thing we want is for someone else to spot us.” Elliott crouches to crawl inside.
Elliott
“This is something we’ll laugh about with our grandkids one day,” Kyle mumbles as we wait for Alex to return.