“Am I on the website yet?” I said.
“How’s your back looking?”
“Erm.” I darted into the bathroom and yanked my t-shirt up, twisting in the mirror. “It’s not healed entirely. Why?”
“Is it noticeable?”
“A little bit? It’s not scabbed, but you can see the line,” I decided.
“Text me a picture.”
“Hang on a second.” I straightened my t-shirt. “Do I have a booking? How do I have a booking?”
“You might. Send me the picture and I’ll call you in a second.” There was a light click as he hung up.
It is no mean feat to take a full picture of one’s own back, but I managed it. Then there was an agonizing fifteen minutes of staring at the fat sandwich on the chopping board while I waited for William to call. If I had a booking, food was a bad idea–anal on a full stomach: just don’t, okay?
“Finally,” I groaned, answering. “Well?”
“Looks good to me. Can you do nine o’clock?”
A little shiver shot through me. “Of course. Yeah. Who is it?”
“Pieterson. D’you remember him? He was awfully pleased to hear that you’re back,” he chuckled. “Aidan says you’re probably the only one he can get it up for.”
“Will!” I stifled a grin.
“Don’t complain. It’s good for business. Now.” He cleared his throat. “John will be there at half eight. You’re at his flat. Take care, Leila.”
Seth Pieterson had been one of my regular clients. Unusually, he was young, only nineteen. An online business had made him very comfortable, very quickly, and true to the internet geek cliché, money had not bought him social prowess. He was shy in the most savoury fashion.
Seth had sent away both of the other Ladarna girls before William suggested that Aidan and I had a crack. It took one of our more athletic shows and a lot of manly encouragement from Aidan, but eventually, Seth was up to the job and a virgin no longer. I’d seen him on a monthly basis from thereon in.
That night, I dressed in the casual way he favoured: a tight cardigan with a little skirt, sheer underwear and loose hair. John arrived at half eight on the dot and just like that, I was a whore all over again.
We were pulling up outside Seth’s apartment building when it occurred to me that I hadn’t thought of Joseph in several hours, or Clemmie, or law. I had escaped. Was this the calm in the eye of the storm, or had I simply made it out on the other side?
Seth greeted me at the door with his hair still damp from the shower.
“Hello, stranger.” I smiled and stretched up to kiss him on the cheek.
“Hello.” He pushed his glasses back into place and even now, he blushed. “Charlotte.”
It was endearing, in a way.
“Can I get you a drink?” he offered, ushering me through to the sitting room.
“Water would be lovely.” I sank down on his sofa as he disappeared, eying the minimal living room with its hastily tidied mess of computer cables, old monitors, reams of black and white printouts. Only the shiny wood floors and fresh walls betrayed any hint of expense. As always, the envelope sat on the glass coffee table and I tucked it into the bag before he returned. “Thanks.” I patted the space next to me and he sat down clumsily, clutching a Red Bull.
“You’ve redecorated.”
“Yeah. Kind of had to.” He smiled faintly.
“Wild party?”
“Something like that.” He turned, his eyes widening as they slid down to the swell of my breasts. “I missed you, you know.”
“I needed a holiday,” I said. “I missed you too. Missed this.” I brushed a hand down his arm and his played on my thigh, nudging my skirt up.
“Warn me next time, okay?” His tone was already absent, voice floating away.
“I didn’t get much warning myself.”
“It’s like that, eh?” His knuckles thinned to white as he flexed large hands. “I think I know that feeling.” With the can set down, his free fingers spread my thighs. It was a slow movement. Expectant.
I knew what he wanted, and it was comforting.
Seth peered between my legs and I sat back to give him a better look.
“You always wear such pretty things.” He slid down on his knees and pressed his face against my knickers, inhaling.
“Lick me,” I whispered. I could feel his hot breath through the flimsy fabric and I knotted rough fingers into his hair. “I said, lick me.” Now I squeezed my thighs around his head.
Seth groaned. He sucked me through my knickers, laving his tongue over my clit as he found it. I was wet and yet it felt cold, as if it happened to someone else.
That was about to change.
“Take them off,” I ordered.
I lifted my hips to let him jerk down the garment with his hurried fingers, and watched his eyes stretch at the sight of me bare. His revelry was strange, fascinating; there was no precursor to this encounter, no hormonal stampede of the chase. A battle with a rigged victor.
On paper, that didn’t sound like something I wanted. It didn’t even sound like much fun. But paper is so flat and whimsical, blown away by a gust of wind, washed clean in a light shower. People are far more resilient, and Seth’s clay insolence was not lost on me.
I bunched my skirt around my waist and sank back into the sofa. “Now fucking do it properly. Don’t disappoint me.”
“I won’t. I promise.” His last words were muffled against my slick flesh. “Promise…”
Now I warmed to his tongue and felt every tremor; now, this was happening to me. I could hear him swallowing scented air, and he was tasting, inhaling, coating his face. He sucked at my clit too hard and never quite found the right places but despite that, his enthusiasm got me wet and I slid so easily onto the pedestal he wanted me upon.
“Will…will you?” He nudged beneath my buttocks and I hooked my legs over his shoulders, raising my hips once more. His mouth trailed down toward my asshole and he painted it in cool saliva and steaming breath.
I moaned by numbers. Math always was my strong point.
He shoved his fingers inside me and started a slow, steady rub. I froze at the strange sound before I realized that it was me crying out, my voice wrought with longing and surprise. His massage was a spell conjured, a sleight of a magic wand. Just like that, I was tugged in beneath its thrall and the pedestal was forgotten. Gone.
I wanted him to fuck me, thought I didn’t realize why until my knees hit the hard floor and my palms stung with the impact. Physically, Seth was nothing like Joseph–no bulk to drive his limbs with such ambition, and his movements were hindered by twitches and jerks. His skin was so pale that the veins flickered beneath the surface like dead vines on a lake. But none of that mattered when he was behind me, and everything fell inward as the world followed his cock.
Eyes closed, I urged him on–not that he needed the encouragement. He always tried so hard to begin slowly–more for himself than me, of course–but his resolve was weaker than mine, even, and he gave into vigour after the first few strokes.
I had to keep pinching my arms so that I didn’t forget myself and start murmuring his name.
I’m a man, not a fucking religion.
“God.” The word was dry on my tongue in its poor state of substitution.
Seth grazed his nails down the fading wound mark on my back. Ouch. Then he slapped my left buttock as he came, groaning loudly.
I arched, muscles darting inward as I tightened over his cock. I barely remembered I was meant to be doing it and hoped he didn’t notice me jump.
“Thank you.” I exhaled as I sagged forward. “That was–”
“Short. Sorry,” he mumbled.
“I think you’ve made your mark.” I smiled, twisting to sit back on my hands. “I’m more than a little bit sore.”
His brow furrowed on his flushed face. “Oh crap. Sorry.”
I teased at his thigh with a bare foot. “Don’t be silly. I like it that way.”
His brow fell forward a little farther, as if he was considering it. Then he smiled at my foot without realizing and swatted it gently. “I’ll be back in a sec.” Condom in hand, he wandering off to the bathroom.
I blew the hair out of my face and closed my eyes again in the silence. I was a bit surprised at how little effort that had been–not physically, just the way I’d fallen back into the work. Why hadn’t I separated it from Joseph? Would I ever get back to that place?
Fucking Charlotte, smirking in her victory. This is what you are.
The door cracked open and I crawled over to a messy bookshelf which housed DVDs in their hundreds. The carpet was prickly beneath my knees.
“Did you choose yet?” Seth had pulled his boxers back on and was refilling my glass from a Perrier bottle. I remembered him admitting once that he kept it in just for me.
“Erm.” I dithered between an Army flick and something painfully hip with Samuel L. Jackson. “Which one of these do you recommend?”
He squinted behind his glasses. “One’s a porn film. Did you see that?”
“I did not.” I giggled. “Talk about The Bone Collector.”
He knelt next to me and slid a box out with a nail-bitten finger. “This one. It’s quite funny. Or I think so, anyway.”
We settled down to watch the film. I was spread-eagled on the sofa and he sat between my feet, his cheek against my thigh. I worked my hands on his neck and shoulders, along his arms. He was wax for the moulding, and I only wished I knew the shape he ought to be, even if that wasn’t part of the service.
“I think your job is better than mine,” he said, glancing up at me.
I choked back a little laugh. “I do like it. More than I should, probably. However, I have to disagree. Yours is a lot less messy.”
“How do you mean?”
“How much lube do you get through in a tech office?” I grinned.
“I don’t think most of them know what it is.” He paused, stroking my leg lightly. “You don’t need it anyway. Do you?”
“Not with you, no.”
He squeezed my calf and I pressed it up against him.
“Are you thinking of taking up the oldest profession?” I said.
“Me?” He made a big show of scratching his stubbled chin. “I think I’d be a lot poorer.”
“You would be if you didn’t like boys. That’s where the real money is,” I said sagely.
He shuddered as he chuckled. “No thanks. No thank you.”
“Shame.” I tugged his hair back gently to smile at him. “You have that sexy geek thing going on. I know a few people who pay for that.”
“I’d rather pay if I get you instead,” he said, his cheeks blotted with pink. “Did…did you get a boyfriend? I thought that’s why you might have left.”
“Why does everyone assume it’s about a man?”
“Sorry. Just thought…” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t let you do this, if it was me.”
“Ahh. That’s very sweet. It really was just a holiday, though.” I nudged him forward. Time for distraction. Too much conversation was never a good idea with Seth. “I like doing this.” I slid off the sofa and lay on my belly, my head nestling against his inner thigh. “Especially this.”
I eased his boxers down his legs and stroked his hardening cock with my knuckles. I watched it grow, rapt for him, catching his eye and biting my lip. For a narrow-shouldered boy, he definitely had some girth.
“I think I’ve missed your cock, Seth,” I mumbled, half smiling around his shaft.
He groaned in response and thrust his hips forward. I spat him out and glared up past his trembling jaw; the only rule Seth ever made was that I make the rules.
“I didn’t say you were allowed to fucking enjoy it.” My palm curved around his erection and then I smacked it hard against his belly. His eyes rolled upward as he exhaled through gritted teeth. I smacked him again.
Then, I sucked him.
Most people assumed that the biggest difference between sex with a client and a lover was the intimacy. They thought I couldn’t have intimacy with a client. Wrong. I had to watch for any hint of his desire as soon as I entered the room. Sometimes, he’d tell me and enjoy telling me. Sometimes, his silence invited an educated guess. If anything, the intimacy came quicker because it was my job to satisfy his thoughts as well as his body. He didn’t always know that…but I did.
No, the difference between a client and a lover was ceremony–almost religious in its instigation, but never intentional. Sometimes it was made of long gazes and whispered promises, and others, wrought in sweat and tears.
Matt understood the ceremony surrounding sex. Joseph commanded it. That was why they never felt like clients to me–we had intimacy, of course, but it was already there. What cast the spell for me was the anticipation of every flesh-slap and tongue lash, the labyrinth of complex desires that stretched between us like a cobweb of dewed thread. Our physical chemistry was part of it, but when loaded words fell from tense mouths, the whole thing went bang!
Seth and I had intimacy. I’d learned about the right spot to circle just inside his arsehole and knew he hated to be kissed. I also knew which of his employees had three sugars and who ate with their mouth open. Our exchanges were never empty–far from it. But there was no interest in the act beyond the act itself, no appreciation save for curses and sighs, and the whole thing felt shallow and gratuitous–no bad thing, of course, unless it left a partner yearning for something else. Something substantial. That’s what it means to be a whore, like this: unfinished.
Most people would say that Joseph treated me like a whore.
It was only without him that I actually felt like one.
Chapter 16
“I can’t, Aid. What if I get called in for work?”
The morning after Seth, I stuffed down the best-tasting bowl of cereal ever.
“Gah.” He sighed over the phone. “You’re giving up all socializing because it’s back to the whoring board? It’s just drinks. Bring your stuff.”
“I wouldn’t have room for everything,” I insisted.
“It’s Friday night, Lei-Lei. Suspender belts and lonely half cuts. All fits into a Fendi baguette.”
“They are pleasingly phallic.” I tapped the bowl with my spoon. “Aren’t you working too?”
“Nope. Whole weekend off to say farewell to Mattman. You do realize that this is my last chance to rape him?”
“You mean, seduce him.”
“I’ve given up on the semantics,” he grumbled. “Anyway. Drinks. Half seven. You’re coming! No excuses. I’m not having–”
“Any particular reason why you’re talking in bullet points?”
“No. And fuck off.” He laughed.
“Somebody needs a bacon sandwich and a fat Coke.”
Aidan groaned, wavering into falsetto. “If you did the job I did last night, just looking at a Coke can would be bordering on traumatic…”
Seven o’clock rolled around after a day of baking and bad television, and since I had no whisper of a booking, I relented and called a cab to Aidan’s flat.
In days of yore, when I was the Ladarna’s meek new girl, I’d spent a lot of time at Aidan’s place. He had a little box apartment like me, only it was shockingly tidy. Dumbbells were piled in neat pyramids, designer toiletries pristine in their boxes, clothes pressed and flowing from hangers. He kept his toys in a huge toolbox with a dozen fold-out sections. I had spent many gleeful hours playing, giggling and trying not to spill my cocktail on his collection of multicolour butt plugs, ordered in terms of girth.
His most prized possession was a shiny blue jukebox and I could already hear its tinny speakers as I knocked on the door.
“Lei-Lei!” He folded me into one of his big bear hugs, sharp notes of his aftershave whizzing up my nose.
“A pleasure,” I winced, following him into the hall. “So who are we drinking with? And what for?” I held a carrier aloft. “I brought wine.”
> “More vodka left for me, then.” He scooped an arm around my shoulders and steered me into the diner.
I froze to the shiny floor.
“Hey.” Matt put his bottle on the counter and folded his arms. “You came, then.”
I glared at Aidan. “What’s he doing here?”
“Now hang on a minute–”
“I’m leaving.” I couldn’t look at either of them.
“Leila, please–” Matt called.
The wine smacked into my shins as I strode toward the door.
“I did give them those photos. I’m sorry.”
I turned, blinking at Matt as if his words were an unwelcome tug from sleep. “You…what?”
“I gave Poppy the photo, Leila.” He wouldn’t look at me. “But I didn’t mean to. She had my laptop in New York. Do you remember?”
“Ah. I remember.” I slid back into the awkward silence for a moment; as little as I wanted to admit it, that made sense. Poppy was frosty with me after she had caught me with Matt and I’d just assumed it was because she thought I was sleeping with him again.
Then other thoughts began to crackle and snap.
“You!” I shrieked at Aidan. “You told him?”
He held up his hands. “What was I meant to do? He was going to ask when he saw the website. I told you.” He shrugged. “Besides, I knew this was all wrong–and it was.”
“Congratulations on narrowly not fucking up my life!”
“I shouldn’t have kept the picture.” Matt bit his lip and I swear there was a glimpse of a tremble to it. “I just…I never expected her to look through anything…”
“It’s not your fault,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry I blamed you.”
Aidan rolled his eyes. “So you should be, you faithless harpy. Now. Tell her the good news, Mattman.”
“What? What are you on about?”
Matt raised his eyebrows in a vague attempt at a smile. “We fixed it.”
“What do you mean, you fixed it?” I had to grasp my wrist to control my pulse. “What have you done?”
“In the bedroom, Lei-Lei.” Aidan cocked his head to the door.
I glanced between the pair of them, swallowing. “Is Joe in there?”
Please. No, wait. Please not. Please–
Breaking Joseph Page 22