He frowned, dropping his head to one side. “Do I know you?”
God help me. Mr. Unknown has an accent! Christ, Estelle, you might as well just drop your panties now; you know you’re a sucker for accents.
I giggled like a schoolgirl crushing on her professor the moment I heard his voice. It was deep, and his accent was subtle, like butterfly kisses to my ears. It was a little British and a little something else that I just couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Too fascinated by what he might be, I ignored the tone in his stupid question and smiled at him widely. “What do you mean, ‘do I know you?’ You’ve been staring at me every time we’ve seen each other for the last few months. So yeah, um… I kinda think you know me.”
He raised his eyebrows, cracking his knuckles out, as he turned to look back out of the dirty glass window.
Increasingly frustrated with how quickly our love boat was sinking, I went and stood beside him. “Aren’t you going to say anything to me?”
He turned to look at me, his kissable lips turning down. “Oh.”
I snorted, flicking my hair behind my shoulder. “What do you mean, ‘oh’?”
He went back to staring out the window. Watching with sudden interest at the vast streams of people mulling about in senselessness on the platform.
In annoyance, I gave his shoulder a light push. “Hey, don’t ignore me! You’re not very social, are you?”
One side of his lip curled up in amusement as he turned to look at me again. “I don’t need to be social; people come to me.” And then he laughed, watching my annoyed face. “And don’t get angry with someone you know nothing about. It’s rude.”
I gasped my mouth dropping open at his words. “But, I’m not!”
He chuckled, now smiling right at me. “Ah-yeah you are.”
I never should have got on that stupid train. I should have left the fantasy of the perfect man I had created in my mind. He was beautiful in that place where I conceived him—exactly how I wanted him to be.
Experiencing the reality of him was pointless, stupid, and completely unnecessary. I should have known better. If he was looking at me while he was with another woman, clearly he wasn’t someone I would want to know anyway. Obviously he was a bastard. How could my mind have turned him into something that he wasn’t? When month after month he was being a prick right in front of me, yet somehow my delusions had turned him into a god-like creature, capable of anything and perfect to the core.
Maybe I needed a head-scan? Or a therapist? Or some of that magical hypnotherapy stuff I had seen on TV. What the hell was I thinking? I guess I wasn’t.
“Where is she?”
He ignored me once again and began to read the newspaper.
I raised my voice. “I’m speaking to you.”
He looked up slowly, like he was expecting me to explode into an enraged fit, pulling a shotgun out of my cleavage and shooting him right through his perfect head. “Why are you so angry at a complete stranger? It’s not normal you know.”
I bit my lip, shaking my head and still in shock that our first conversation was going this crappy. “I’ve seen you for the past few months. I don’t think of you as a stranger.”
He looked into my eyes in utter disbelief, but within seconds, I had lost his attention as he resumed his fascination with the newspaper. “Well, I am.” He chuckled.
“Clearly,” I snorted, digging my nails hard into my palms to distract myself.
Silence filled the air between us, but I wasn’t done. “Well… where is she?”
He sighed loudly, shutting the paper in sudden frustration. He turned to look at me, finally giving me his undivided attention. “Whom are you going on about?”
The train sped along. Like him, it didn’t care about protecting my fantasy either. “That porcelain girl who is always with you—kissing you, hugging you.”
His face broke into a smile, the first real smile that I had ever seen on his lips. It was beautiful; he was beautiful. I couldn’t help but smile back at him. I so wanted to just kiss him then and there. I wanted to hold his sculptured face in my hands and kiss his cupid bow lips, instantly drowning in his frozen-water eyes and never caring about the hyperthermia, not even feeling it until it was too late.
Those split seconds of lust-filled beauty were ruined by his laughter. Like a crazed hyena, he started laughing at me, unable to contain himself. “Porcelain girl? You do have a wild imagination! Maybe you should see someone about that?”
I closed my eyes, trying not to be flustered. “Who is she?”
“I guess you must be referring to Sophia? She’s gone.”
“Where?” I whispered, still not satisfied.
His eyes instantly darkened, dissolving into anger. It was clear he had come to the end of his patience with me. He leaned in, stopping just inches away from my face. Slowly and carefully, his eyes studied me from the top of my forehead down to my chin and then back to my lips.
I should have been scared, I guess, but it was a really sexy glare. He was so intense. Like ice thrown on fire, I wanted to feel the coolness of his icicle tips melt drip by drip over my burning, aching breasts. God how I wanted to feel him up against me, pinning me to the wall, as he satisfied his ravenous appetite for my body.
His eyes then trailed down across my breasts, and I just about whimpered, thinking about his tongue licking over my nipples for the first time. Who knew that just a stare could cause this much arousal? No wonder the men at the club liked watching me. I fully understood their fascination now, and I was ready to succumb to this sexual moment however he wanted.
I breathed in, my breasts rising as he continued to stare at them, fully fixated. I closed my eyes, waiting to feel his touch, knowing the moment I had been dreaming about was only seconds away. There were other people around us, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was his delicious lips on me. It didn’t matter where.
My lust-filled silence was cut short by the train’s blaring horn. My eyes flew open to see him sneering at me.
“Have some self-respect. Cover yourself up; you look like a tramp!”
I blinked, gob smacked by the words that had just come out of that succulent mouth.
“Fuck you!” I yelled as I pulled my coat closed and stormed off, stumbling slightly as the train slowed down. The doors opened with a swish, releasing the impatient passengers crowded around the carriage entrance. Shoulder to shoulder, they spilled onto the platform, dispersing in all different directions like tiny black ants on a mission for food.
This wasn’t even my stop. Because of him, I was going the wrong fucking direction in every sense of the word. But I didn’t care. I wanted to get as far away from him as physically possible.
Triumphantly, like I knew where I was going and had absolute purpose in my life, I got off the train. With my best catwalk wiggle, I stomped through the crowded platform, not turning to look at him, but knowing sure as hell, he would be watching me.
Checking my peripherals, of course I was right. I had dealt with enough men to know that even if they weren’t “interested,” they were sure “interested” in an unattached, free perv. Clear as day, Mr. Unknown was no longer reading the newspaper; all he was doing was enjoying the view.
What a fucking idiot! I sure hope he enjoyed my ass as it stomped away from his frigid insanity.
Here was a man I had literally dreamed into some sort of exotic gentleman, and yet like all the other bastards I had stripped for and turned down the “opportunity” to fuck, he was no different—a self-obsessed pig.
I was never sure about the whole deal on being a lesbian, you know, if you’re born that way, or if you make the conscious decision to cross men off the list completely. And despite only ever being involved with men and, for the most part, being incredibly turned on by them, every day I worked at the club, I really started to wonder if I should re-think the whole bloody thing—jump the fence and be done with it.
Goodbye dickwads, hellooo ladies.
13
I hadn’t seen him for a month. And I didn’t care.
Okay, I lied. I cared a little.
But after the horrible way he treated me when we finally spoke in person, most of my feelings towards him had completely vanished. I guess I was still in shock about it all, especially after months of building him up in my mind to being something of real significance.
Of course, it was entirely my fault. I was the one who had come up with a whole pile of airy-fairy, wishy-washy, god-like, dewy-eyed—let’s be real—utter crap. And when we were finally inches away from each other, the reality of speaking to him had sucked big time!
I even stopped having sex dreams about him, which made for a less horny day but a completely boring night. Yup, when I thought about my feelings towards him now, compared to the previous months, I figured I was pretty much cured! No need for a slap, intervention, or rehab. It turned out, all I needed to break the craziness was for him to burst my bubble with his rudeness. If only we had spoken sooner, I wouldn’t have wasted so many months fantasizing over such a self-righteous, pigheaded prick! Now I could be released from the looney bin, free to roam the streets, cafes, and bus stops looking for some other man I could fantasize about. Mr. Unknown was history to me. Next.
I peeled my pale pink micro skirt slowly down my body and seductively kicked it off the stage with my clear stiletto heel. A man’s desperate hands caught it, and he let out a groan as he rested it on top of his trousers. Clip by steel clip, Candice’s manicured nails gently pulled open my matching satin corset as she stood behind me and I faced the drooling men. Eagerly they looked up, watching us move, their pants filling with hardness as we teased them with images they would use later on. I turned and faced Candice, rolling my eyes.
“Shall I?” she giggled.
I smirked, picturing their stupidly dazed faces in my mind. “I think we’ve teased them enough.”
Candice nodded, dancing around my body, and then kissing my back as she slowly sank to her knees and pulled off my thong. A loud cheer erupted from the crowd as the stage lights went dark, and they were left to imagine us entwined in each other’s luscious curves.
Some men—let’s face it, most men—are very easy to please.
The recipe is quite simple. Slowly peel off your body-hugging clothes, do a little grinding against another woman while smiling and licking her ear, and you instantly have their full attention. Most nights, you could almost hear the collective erections spring up.
As the lights came back up for our curtain call, they all began grabbing at their back pockets, digging out their wallets to entice us into a little “personal” backstage attention.
Men, I decided, were sick, easy bastards. With a few drinks in them, and a little flesh, they were suddenly very generous with their money and attention.
“Ooooh, he’s so interesting…” Candice licked her lips, pushing her breasts together as she started dancing around me to the last song.
She leaned forward, whispering into my ear, “He looks like a deep, wounded soul, one that needs to be nursed.” She giggled, tipsy from the cheap alcohol we had been plying ourselves with before the show. “Why don’t you go heal him, Estelle?”
My eyes flicked across to the back of the club, adjusting to the darkness as I blinked under the bright lights of the stage. I started to laugh as Candice licked my nipple in playful seduction.
Surely not.
It couldn’t be.
Not Mr. Oh-So-Proper; Mr. ‘Have Some Self-Respect.’
But it was. It was him for fucks-sake! My former train fantasy—Mr. Fucking Unknown.
He was sitting at the bar alone, watching us as we danced on stage, our naked oil-covered bodies pressed up against each other under the lights as we rotated our hips and fondled each other’s breasts, flipping our hair and winking at the regulars.
“How long has he been here?” I whispered as I ran my hands down her hourglass figure.
“He walked in when you were upside down on the pole at the start.”
I screwed up my face. “It sounds so charming when you put it like that.”
She giggled, “Finale time, girl! Remember to do a little moan.” Adjusting her hair behind her ear, she slowly got onto her knees, giving the impression she was about to do something else as the stage lights dimmed into darkness, leaving them breathless for more.
Rapturous applause rang out through the club as they stood to their feet, trying unsuccessfully to hide their erections. A regular rushed around to the side of the stage to greet me as I walked down the steps and into the crowd.
“Estelle, Estelle, you’re perfect, baby. Would you consider sleeping with me and my wife? How much can I pay you? Name a price, baby; money isn’t a problem.”
I let out a fake giggle, patting him on the shoulder. “Ralph, it’s not about the money, doll. But could you be an angel and lend me your jacket?”
“Anything, for you, Estelle; if you want my jacket you can have it—but I’d prefer it if you asked for my pants.”
He took off his jacket, quickly slipping it over my shoulders and “accidentally” brushing my breast as he pulled it closed for me.
“You behave now, you naughty man. Thanks for the jacket, though; muchly appreciated. Excuse me while I go and catch up with a friend. See you tomorrow, yeah?”
“I’ll be in the front row; I’ll never get sick of you.”
I giggled my fake laugh again. “Stop, doll! You’re just too kind.”
I pushed through the pent-up crowd of men and finally managed to get around to the bar. Stomping up behind my ex-fantasy, I tapped him on the shoulder, my pulse racing with adrenalin. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
He turned to look at me, laughing as I plopped down on the black barstool next to him. “Oh. So it is you.” His melodic accent flirted with my ears.
Stay angry, Estelle. Whatever you do right now, stay angry!
“How dare you tell me to have some respect, when here you are in a strip club, filling your mind with scum so you can wank off to it later.”
He smirked, looking away from my eyes as he sipped his drink in silence.
I grabbed his shoulder pulling him back to look at me. “Why are you so disconnected and cold?”
He sneered and lifted his eyebrows. “Why are you so in my face?”
“Because for the last few months I’ve been seeing you on the train, and in my mind I thought we might end up like in the fairytales—it seemed romantic, like it could be something special.”
He laughed, “Well then, you’re more stupid than I thought.”
I slid off the bar stool, bumping his shoulder as I walked past him. “God, you’re such a fucking prick. I wish you had never looked at me.”
He shrugged and took another sip. “I don’t. I liked looking at you.”
I stopped, turning back to face him. “What?”
“I liked watching you at the station—and now, I find you very interesting.”
Surprised, I smiled, not knowing how to respond to his sudden confession. “Where have you been anyway?”
He took another sip. “What?”
“I haven’t seen you for a few weeks.”
He looked uninterested by my question and shrugged. “My schedule changed, and so did the trains.”
I sucked on my lip, not knowing what else to do. “Oh.”
He tapped his long, slender fingers around his glass. “What’s it to you anyway?” He chuckled, “Did you miss me?”
I looked away, trying to appear casual. “No. I just wondered where you went and what happened to you. You were kind of part of my routine, and when you disappeared, I didn’t know why.”
I sat my ass back down on the pleather barstool and turned to study him. “What are you doing here anyway?”
He laughed, running his hand over his chiseled jaw. “I thought I would come and see what all the fuss was about.”
“Fuss?”
“I don’t know if this co
mes as a surprise to you or not, but I’ve never been in a place like this. I often hear talk on the train of the strippers with big tits and how amazing they are. I just thought I would come and see what all the fuss was about.”
I giggled, leaning forward as I touched his arm, making sure the jacket was open just enough for him to get another look at the girls. “Well then, what do you think?”
He looked sideways at my décolletage and smiled widely. “Well, they are definitely entrancing; they at least took my mind off things for a moment.”
Departed (Unbearably Gifted Book 1) Page 5