Easy

by Donna Alam

  Lost in the memories, I start as a hand rests against my hip, though relax at the scent of Dan’s cologne.

  ‘You seemed to be getting along well,’ I murmur, leaning back and into him.

  ‘Years of practise. The key is to seem like you’re interested while inwardly imagining what you’d like to do to their wife.’

  As soon as the words hit air, he curses, murmuring his idiocy. But as I instinctively laugh, he seems once more able to breathe.

  ‘And in my boss’s case?’ I bring my glass to my lips and hide my smile behind the rim. ‘What would you care to do to his wife?’

  ‘Introduce her to a dentist,’ Dan replies seriously. ‘The woman has more teeth than a horse.’

  Laughing again, I tell him how bad he is when he spins me to face him and tells me exactly how bad he wants to be. His face is serious, his hands at the small of my back pressing me against his body, where he’s hard and all kinds of desperate.

  ‘I need you,’ he growls in my ear.

  Surprised at his words, I find myself blushing and answer in one whispered word. My safe word for the evening, it seems.

  Discreet.

  We agree on a two-minute head start, and I watch him walk away, counting the minutes until I can follow.

  ‘Fancy finding you in here,’ he murmurs as I lock the bathroom door behind me with a click.

  ‘I don’t . . .’ I place my glass down, my words faltering as he presses himself against my back.

  ‘Remember when I said there’s a time and a place for everything?’ I nod, trembling as Dan’s lips find my neck. Such a small touch, but one that elicits so much. ‘How do you feel about getting caught?’

  ‘I-I don’t want to.’

  ‘No? Then why are you here?’ It was a numbers game, Dan had once said. Everyone got caught eventually. Everyone that got a thrill from public sex.

  ‘Because I need you here,’ I whisper, placing his hand over my heart. I move it down between my legs, curling my fingers over his. ‘And here.’

  ‘Do you have any idea what you’ve done to my restraint?’ Dan’s words come out in a pained rush. ‘I’d never thought to find myself in this position again.’

  He doesn’t speak again as he takes me by the waist, lifting me onto the marble vanity and insinuating himself between my legs. I moan as he presses his mouth over mine, fire crawling my circulatory system, our clothes a barrier too much.

  ‘Say yes.’ His words are a breathless sibilance, his hands hot on my open thighs.

  ‘I want,’ I moan into his mouth as I fumble wit his zip, eventually threading my hand into his pants. The hard, heavy drag of him against my palm sparks waves of desire, the grating sound of his breath igniting my insides.

  I can do this.

  I want this.

  But, fuck, I don’t want people to find out.

  Dan’s hand pulls on the elastic of my panties, rubbing the fabric along the dampness gathered between my legs.

  ‘Tell me what do you want, darling,’ he whispers, threading his hands under the gossamer fabric, teasing and taunting me with deft flicks. ‘Shall I fuck you while your work friends talk shop outside? Fuck you so hard that you’ll limp from this bathroom, letting everyone know what we’ve done?’

  ‘Yes,’ I moan as his knuckle works its way inside, this thumb following to circle my clit. My nreath hitches as my legs begin to shake. ‘Fuck me, Dan. Hard.’

  ‘Then you have to say please. Nice manners are, after all, everything.’

  I close my eyes to hide my reaction, hating myself just a little, even as I open my mouth.

  ‘Please, Dan. Do it now,’ I pant. ‘Do me now.’

  He smiles sinfully, his free hand finding the hem of my dress and almost tearing it from my thighs to my waist. His belt clashes with the marble as he loosens it, slipping my panties aside. I’m so wet, one thrust and he glides inside. Once, twice, moaning and gasping, our mouths meet only on the up-thrust.

  ‘You can’t leave me,’ he mutters into my neck. ‘Can’t leave me.’ His hands suddenly find my knees, lifting them further to the side as he slams slickly into me again and again.

  ‘Then stay away from that slut,’ I whisper almost breathlessly, limbs loosened with pleasure, the dig of his hips rubbing my clit with every thrust.

  ‘I’ve all I need right here,’ he growls, pushing his hands under my ass to lift me and push me up against the mirrored wall. One hand flat, he pins me roughly, his hips working like pistons as he ploughs his possession inside. The mirror shakes, a silver-coloured tissue box hitting the floor, and all the while, my cries became louder until he slips his hand to our joined wetness, coating his thumb before pushing it inside my mouth.

  ‘Show me how much you want me on your tongue. Show me what you’ll do for me when we get home.’

  The images rise like a wisp of breath: on my knees and naked while Dan sits almost fully clothed, legs splayed wide. The wave begins in my stomach, my climax clawing at my insides. I come hard, pushed over the edge, sucking his thumb and writhing, finally biting it at the end as he breaks himself.

  Sated and lifeless, Dan leans against me, his breathing regulating as he speaks.

  ‘I’m having second thoughts about the blow job. I’d prefer you not to bite off the end of my knob, if you don’t mind.’

  He holds up his thumb between us, my teeth marks a vivid red. As I laugh, Dan twitches reflexively, slipping out from my body with a groan.

  ‘I-I love you, Dan. You do know that, don’t you?’

  He halts from zipping his fly, raising his head and flashing a small smile. ‘Not your usual romantic surroundings for declarations. But then, that’s what I love about you.’

  ‘What?’ I try not to allow my smile to falter. Try, anyway.

  ‘There’s nothing typical about you.’ In an instant, I’m forced against him again. ‘I love you, Louise. You are exquisite, and this is fucking real.’

  Our eyes meet and for the briefest of moments, something recognisable shared. Something that isn’t just about sex or dominance, misunderstandings or hurt. It’s like meeting one half of the other. It’s finding your safe place.

  I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

  Chapter Thirty

  DAN

  ‘As I live and breathe.’ We both turn to the somewhat derisive catcall. ‘Who’d have thought it? The Master himself.’

  Louise murmurs that she can place the man’s face but not his name. They’d apparently sat in on some of the same meetings, but he wasn’t someone she’s completely familiar with. I listen as she speaks, watching the man make his way over. What I don’t say is that I know him. Unfortunately.

  ‘Scott.’ I address the man with my customary blank mask.

  ‘Master,’ he replies, even offering an unsteady half-bow. The prick. He’s drunk, and therefore, dangerous. And out of order as he begins to leer at Louise. ‘You look a bit flushed, love.’

  Beside me, her face burns red, her posture stiffening, as though our bathroom activities are obvious to all. Rather, I expect they’re only obvious to him. By way of my past.

  ‘Scott,’ I repeat, this time in a restrained growl. ‘I haven’t seen you for a while.’ I fuel the words with all the authority I can muster. Unfortunately, the soak is too drunk to care.

  ‘No? Well, that would be on the account of being kicked out of your club, mate.’

  My posture is ramrod straight as another of my mistakes prepares to take a chunk out of my arse. ‘Darling,’ I say, turning to Louise. ‘Would you get me a glass of champagne?’ She doesn’t move, the pieces of this puzzle not fitting yet for her yet. If I can’t get her to leave, it won’t be long before this ridiculous tête-à-tête hurts.

  ‘How’d you melt the arse off that one?’ Scot continues, digging his own grave. ‘The ice queen, ain’t she? Least that’s what they say in the office.’

  The fickle finger of fate drags down my perspiring spine as I attempt to compose myself, to stop myself from
shoving Scott’s glass down his throat. Synapses fire, filling my head with deceptions and scenarios; ways to extricate Louise from this fuck up. To not cause a scene.

  Whatever, I know I’m right royally fucked.

  Louise places her fingers on my forearm, bringing my gaze back from boring holes in this fuck. She can probably hear my molars disintegrating under the pressure of staying calm.

  ‘Not here, please,’ she says softly, reading my expression and stunning me.

  My face feels numb, though my temples pound. ‘Darling, I need to talk to Scott,’ I say as calmly as possible. ‘Would you mind?’ It isn’t a question I want the answer to, lifting her hand from my arm. I kiss her fingertips in a promise of calm.

  Louise opens her mouth, and sensing it filling with questions, I cut her off, kissing her long and hard. I could be a mistake and fuel for the weapon Scott seems intent on swinging my way, but I can’t help it. She’s like a cool relief to a starving man. As she pulls back, her eyes are questioning.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ I repeat—a dismissal I hate. I pull myself away from her side feeling like the biggest, lying twat that ever lived. Her expression causes my chest to ache, but the worst of it is the realisation that I might hurt her so much more by the evening’s end.

  Should’ve told her. Should’ve explained.

  LOUISE

  As Dan leads the drunk away, I catch him leering at me over his shoulder as he mumbles something about the quiet ones always being the worst. Then, much clearer he says, ‘She been in The Lion’s Den yet?’

  By then, they’re too far away for me to hear Dan’s response. And he doesn’t turn back.

  My head swims, filled with half-formed ideas and notions as I wave away the waiter and his tray of champagne flutes. I need a clear head—and some explanations. But for now, I’ll make do with an escape from this room.

  Outside, cars still arrive via the gravelled driveway, the front of the house lantern lit. I have no intention of talking to anyone, so head down the sandstone steps, and skirt around the front of the building using the shadows as a shield.

  ‘Lord! You scared the life out of me!’ Flo exclaims. I’d nearly walk into her as she makes her way in the opposite direction; obviously on her way back from a clandestine cigarette. ‘What are you doing skulking about?’

  ‘Same thing as you,’ I answer distractedly. Much like myself, Flo abhors these kinds of affairs.

  ‘But you don’t smoke.’

  For the first time in my life, I wish I did. I can’t answer, my head full of other things.

  ‘I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,’ Flo intones, pulling my stiff form in for a one-armed hug. ‘I almost feel bad charging you rent.’ She smiles at the absurdity of the statement: almost.

  ‘I’ve been busy. Spending a lot of time with Dan.’ I look over my shoulder, still trying to make sense of what could be going on. Why hasn’t he followed me out?

  Flo frowns and mumbles something along the lines of, ‘I thought as much.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask how we are?’ Or about my sex life?’ It’s not like her to miss an opportunity of questioning.

  ‘None of my business, Lou.’ She shrugs one nonchalant shoulder, her gaze on the darkened lawns.

  ‘Because you know, don’t you? You know him.’ Somehow. Someway.

  ‘It’s the guy from the club.’ Her response is so flat, so emotionless.

  ‘You know him,’ I say fishing. Fishing with an empty net. ‘But what else do you know?’

  Flo’s head shots up, her expression changing in an instant. ‘Sweets, whatever are you talking about?’

  Something about the delivery of her words makes me uneasy. Her demeanour is almost the same as that of Belle. Standing in the doorway earlier, the woman had tried so hard to project superiority. Deflecting. Truth avoidance. Call it what you will. I know a lie when I hear one, I’d like to think.

  I suddenly remember the reason I’m outside; my strange encounter with Scott, and the pieces that don’t quite fit into place. And as Flo makes some excuse to return, I grab her arm before she can pass.

  ‘Cut the crap, Flo. Just tell me.’ My fingers grip her elbow; I’ve no intention of letting go. ‘What am I missing?’

  ‘Come on, Lou, it’s freezing out here. Let’s go in, yeah?’ She sighs huffily, not enjoying being put on the spot. Flo’s upbringing betrays her, the final word sounding more like yar. She only ever reverts to her social class when under pressure. It’s her armour.

  ‘No. I can’t go back in.’ Not yet.

  ‘He’s in there, isn’t he?’ Flo suddenly sounds titillated. Awestruck? ‘My God, only you would bring the sex king to a do like this!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I whisper, my hand falling away.

  ‘Look,’ Flo replies, her gaze sliding to the dark lawn. ‘You must know who he is.’ When I don’t answer, her attention swings back to me. ‘Don’t you?’ she repeats, cautiously.

  ‘Not really,’ I admit, gooseflesh stippling my skin. ‘I know his name is Daniel. I know where he lives, and I’ve met his son.’ I know I love him, I might well have said, but hold off from doing so. God, I feel so ridiculous.

  ‘You didn’t Google him?’ I have to bite my lip from admitting I’d barely paid attention to his surname, preferring instead to try talking myself out of being with him for the longest of times.

  ‘That’s it? That’s really all you know? Good Lord, Louise, why haven’t you asked him about this kind of thing yourself?’

  I inhale a deep breath and plunge right in. I tell Flo how, at the beginning, I hadn’t wanted to know his name. Told of my desire to keep it casual, of how I’d resisted the usual enquiries and platitudes in that same vein. Then I tell her that, by the time these things are usually discussed, it didn’t matter. It was already too late. Too late to ask if he hated small dogs or if he was a serial killer, because I was already in love.

  ‘Oh, God.’ Flo’s exclamation sounds more like a lament. ‘I suppose we’d better get a cab. We can’t do this out here.’

  ~*~

  Back at the flat, Flo pours us both a measure of brandy. A bad sign, I think, as she takes us back to the night it all began.

  ‘When you left with him, I knew who he was before you went back to his place.’

  ‘You saw his driving license, you said.’

  ‘I did, though that’s not the reason I spoke to him. I thought I’d warn him, you know, make sure his intentions were decent. His reputation precedes him, you see,’ Flo carries on. ‘He roughs them up a bit. Well, I hear both he and the girls he usually screws like that sort of thing. Anyway, about the time you climbed into his lap and started kissing him, it was clear you were only going one place. I thought that place was upstairs—that’s where they say he takes them. Girls, I mean. He doesn’t fuck in the club himself.’ I look on, perplexed, as Flo adds, ‘He has an apartment up there, so I’ve heard.’

  ‘You know him?’ My stomach grips tight; maybe Flo had been invited upstairs at some point? Maybe she knows Dan better than she’s saying.

  ‘I know of him. He’s a bit of a big deal.’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand.’ Anything. Anything at all.

  ‘That club we were in? It’s his. As well as the private member’s area. The one we couldn’t get into.’

  ‘Couldn’t we?’

  ‘It was totes off limits. Think, Lou . . . when we headed there, what did Luke from accounts say about the place?’ Placing her glass down, Flo picks up her iPad, gliding her index finger across the screen.

  ‘That it . . . it was some sort of S and M club?’ Was that what he had said?

  ‘Well, it’s something like that. I believe those tastes are catered for, too.’

  ‘What does that even signify? You were there; everything was pretty tame. Did you see anything going on? Because I didn’t.’ At that point in the evening, I’d been underwhelmed and unimpressed. Of course, as the evening had passed in Dan’s company, I couldn’t say
the same. I resist doing so now.

  ‘Where we were, there wasn’t anything going on. Only members get in,’ Flo says again.

  ‘Get in where?’ I’m really not sure of the point she’s trying to make.

  ‘The VIP area. Members pay a rather large monthly membership fee, and only they get to use the . . . facilities. And each other. Possibly. Anyway,’ she says, shaking off her speculation, ‘big money. Very few rules, so I’ve heard. Here.’ Her words come out haltingly as she passes over her iPad.

  I’m bewildered. Shocked. Fast follows the clench of betrayal. It’s all there in high definition, the club’s elegantly designed website proving such a place exists, albeit discreetly. Flo’s Google search yields media articles ranging from the broadsheets to online magazines: Daniel Masters. Former property developer and wealthy owner of Mede, and the exclusive members only and—allegedly—anything goes sex club, rumoured to be called The Lion’s Den.

  ‘This can’t be him.’ Am I in denial? Then Scott’s words began to slot the puzzle pieces into place. ‘He’s not even wealthy,’ I whisper, hanging on to the hope that none of this is true.’ Well off, yeah. But I’ve been to his home. It’s hardly Somerset House.

  ‘In the borough, it’s in? Darling, he’s minted. Even if it’s a tiny place, that’s prime real estate. And so are the clubs.’

  ‘His home is beautiful.’ And the opposite of small. Three floors. Maybe four? My gaze returns to the iPad and the club’s latest media release.

  ‘How come you haven’t discussed any of this?’ Flo’s question is hesitant. I shake my head. ‘What the hell have you been doing all this time?’ My cheeks start to heat again, though I can’t find any words. ‘I knew he’d be a seriously good shag,’ she adds, a smile colouring her words.

  ‘Can we not discuss that now?’ I feel suddenly angry. If sex is his business, then what does that make me? ‘Why didn’t you tell me? All this time you’ve never once mentioned this?’

  Flo’s gaze lowers, and I considered that we aren’t really friends. A least not in the BFF sense. Flo is someone I work and live with. Occasionally, we go out. We have nothing in common, and I’d never made her a confidante. I don’t let anyone in.