by JD Nixon
“God, I needed a good fuck, and he was exceptional! A million times better than my limp dick husband.” She gave a whole-body shudder of pleasure that turned my shade of envy from pale green to emerald. “I’m so famished. Let’s go eat.”
“Did you give him your phone number, Lily? Do you think that’s wise?”
She flung me a pitying look. “I gave him a fake number, dumb arse! I don’t want to see him again. I just wanted to borrow his dick for ten minutes.
Well, okay then, I thought, my Sphinx-face firmly in place. Glad we sorted that out.
We dined at the casino’s five-star restaurant and it was a very enjoyable and rare treat for me. We shared a bottle of wine and she told me about her life in Jordan, how she missed her family and friends in England and her fear of ending up with ten kids by the time she was thirty. I couldn’t blame her, maternity not being high on my list of priorities either. Her phone beeped. She looked at the message.
“Shit,” she said sullenly. “Fuckwit’s back from his meeting and wants me to socialise with his boring business partners and their ugly old wives tonight. We have to go.” She threw a bundle of money at the waiter and we briskly walked back to her secret hotel room, where she showered, brushed her teeth and gargled, transforming herself back into modest and reserved Mrs Hayek.
I walked her back to her husband where she gave a brilliant performance as a shy young woman who had been intellectually stimulated by an afternoon surrounded by the Masters, and not physically stimulated in a bathroom by a young stranger in tight pants with a nice arse. Her husband’s eyes glazed over with boredom as she enthused at length about stroke work and lighting. He wasn’t going to question her any further about her day’s activities. She was so good I almost stood up and applauded.
I agreed to return at ten the following morning and made my farewell. I gave Rumbles a quick call in the lift and waited in the foyer for about fifteen minutes while he drove over to pick me up. He delivered me home safely and I trudged up the stairs, absolutely knackered. I had just walked in my front door when Heller walked in behind me.
“Debrief me,” he ordered.
Oh yes, thank you God! I offered up gratefully, until I realised that he wasn’t asking me to take off his clothes. Disappointed, I wearily pulled off my shoes, loosened my hair from its chignon and gave him a heavily censored summary of my day. He rubbed his mouth pensively as he listened.
“She’s going to be a handful, but I can keep her under control,” I insisted, sounding more confident than I felt.
“You must let me know immediately if you have any trouble. Just try to keep her happy. The fee for this job is astronomical. I want a satisfied client.”
That struck me as an extremely funny thing for him to say and I started to laugh uncontrollably. “Don’t worry about that,” I managed to choke out, tears coursing down my cheeks. “She was very satisfied this afternoon.”
He stared at me as if I’d gone crazy, shook his head in bewilderment and left me lying on my lounge, helpless with laughter.
Chapter 12
“Let’s do some shopping first today,” Lily decided, peering at herself in the mirror, carefully applying her lipstick. We were in the secret suite again, and she was wearing blue jeans so tight they looked as though they were spray-painted on and a long-sleeved, low-cut, body-hugging deep purple top. She staggered around on ten-centimetre heels and had on more makeup than a drag queen. Her diamond earrings dangled, touching her shoulders every time she turned her head. She was pimped to the max. Next to her I looked stodgy and conservative in my business suit.
“I want to spend a serious pile of money today. That cocksucker husband of mine owes me big time. The things he makes me do. It’s demeaning! He’s so horny lately too.” She turned from contemplating herself in the mirror to look at me. “I think it’s you.”
I was startled. “Me? What do you mean? I haven’t done anything.”
“I think you’re turning him on, and he’s taking it out on me.”
“You must be joking! I’ve barely even spoken to him. I’m not even dressed provocatively.”
“Yeah, but he gets off on that librarian look. Duh! You’ve obviously got a hot body and keeping it covered in those suits, with your hair up and your makeup so discreet, you’re giving him a boner every day.”
“Gross!” I pulled a face.
She rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it! I’m the one who has to hump him every night. Thank Christ he can only last for about five minutes before he’s done. Saves me a lot of boredom and staring at the ceiling.” She snatched up her handbag. “Let’s go.”
We hit the boutiques with a vengeance. I thought that I had spent a lot of money on my trip with Mei, but Lily was the master of the credit card. Thousands of dollars in this store, thousands in that store, paying extra to have her purchases delivered to the hotel. She seemed detached about everything she bought too, as if she didn’t really care if she owned it or not, but she might as well buy it. It was just something to do.
At every store, she would hold an item up in front of me. “That would look great on you . . . This one’s just your colour . . . You would look so cute in this . . .” Each time I declined, not sure of Heller’s policy on accepting gifts from clients.
Think of the devil and he rings you. I answered the phone, moving away from the dressing room where Lily was trying on six different skirts.
“Having fun shopping?” He was monitoring our location again.
“Not really. I’m kind of bored. Lily wants to buy me stuff. What should I say?”
“Don’t offend her. If it makes her happy buying you things, then let her. You’re allowed to accept gifts from a client.”
“Oh. Okay. I wasn’t sure.”
A pause. “You’re doing a good job, Matilda. I had a phone call from Mr Hayek this morning thanking me for you taking such care of his wife yesterday. Apparently she didn’t stop talking about the art gallery all night.” His tone was amused.
I laughed knowingly. “I better go. Lily’s finished shopping in this store,” I said and hung up, smiling. Praise from Heller! Nothing could spoil my day now.
In the end, Lily bought all six skirts and I let her buy me some earrings and a scarf. I declined the watch (too expensive), the shoes (too high) and the lingerie (too kinky). Exhausted, we dined at one of the city’s three-chef’s hat restaurants and I thoroughly enjoyed every delicious bite. We drank wine, and I tried to ensure that she drank the greater part of the bottle, Tysen’s warning about drinking on the job ringing in my ears.
“What next?” I asked, after we left the restaurant.
“A bit of fun!” she said, smiling mischievously. “I want to go pole dancing.”
“To a pole dancing show, you mean?”
“No, I want to pole dance. I don’t want to watch someone else.”
“Do you mean take a class in pole dancing?”
“No! God, you’re so thick! I want to be on stage. I want men looking at me. I want them lusting for me. I want them to wank while I dance in front of them.”
She cast her eyes up at me with a bawdy and meaningful smile. Thinking fast, and trying not to appear as shocked as I felt, I summoned a taxi and requested that we be dropped in the heart of the city’s red-light district. It was gaudy and threatening by night, but during the day simply seemed desperate and grimy. A few unkempt prostitutes wearily plied their over-ripe wares, little enthusiasm in their actions and even less from their prospective clients.
I was scornfully turned down by the first club I approached, strong-armed out of the second, but hit the jackpot with the third. A greasy little man, who didn’t lift his eyes from my boobs the whole time we spoke, agreed to let Lily perform on stage for an outrageous sum of money. The place was a real dive; the carpet sticky, the atmosphere laden with cigarette smoke, unwashed bodies and congealed fat, and the clientele some of the most pathetic examples of humanity I have ever seen. I think some of them actually wore trench
coats. While Lily went backstage to get ready, I loitered uncomfortably at the bar before deciding to hide in the shadows of a dark corner. I had ordered a plain mineral water from the doddery ninety-year-old barman and it arrived completely flat in a smudged, chipped glass with a twist of shrivelled lemon, served by a sixty-something woman with tired eyes and inappropriately skimpy attire. My phone rang.
“What are you doing there?” Heller demanded.
“Don’t ask,” I warned, watching the woman’s retreating crepey backside sagging loosely out of the sides of her tight pink hotpants. I felt ill. She was my mother’s age.
“Are you safe?”
“I think so. I’m more in danger of catching a disease than anything.” I glanced at my drink. There was something black floating on top, waving its legs around. I pushed the glass to one side of the table.
“Keep in touch,” he ordered and hung up.
A burst of lascivious crackly pre-recorded music piped shrilly from the speakers above my head. The faded and torn curtains opened and there was Lily on the stage, wearing nothing except her own miniscule g-string, high heels and a saucy beret of unknown provenance. There was desultory applause from the audience. A thumping, grinding tune burst out from the speakers and Lily launched into an energetic, and I have to admit, fairly erotic dance. She performed acts on the pole that I would never have imagined possible. Her face was filled with such ecstasy that I had to wonder if she was pleasuring herself while rubbing up and down it. The audience perked up as her show progressed, and started to cheer her on enthusiastically. I saw some furtive hand movements in some of the trench coaters and thought her wish had probably been granted. Her grand climax (and I use that word deliberately) involved an acrobatic manoeuvre with the pole worthy of its own act in the next Cirque de Soleil show. Finally she finished and stood on stage, panting loudly, glistening with sweat and drinking in all the catcalls and applause. Even the barman mustered enough strength to clap in appreciation. She gave a cheeky wave, ignoring the money thrown on the stage and with exaggerated hip swinging ambled off.
I met her at the dressing room. She was glowing with happiness and talked about her performance excitedly while she dressed. She grabbed her handbag and checked her phone.
“Shit, I’ve missed a call from limp dick,” she noticed. She seized my arm and dragged me out to the street, punching in some numbers.
“Hello sweetheart,” she purred into the phone. “I’m sorry I missed your call. I was in the dressing room trying on a new skirt . . . Yes, I did buy it, how did you guess? It’s beautiful and so are all the other ones I bought too!” She giggled with a charming girlishness. “Yes, I have spent a lot of money.” She eyed me. “Yes, Tilly is looking after me. She makes sure I get everything I want. She’s such great company. Thank you so much, darling, for finding her for me . . . Yes, I’ll come home now . . . Love you too.” She pressed the end button.
“Fun’s over,” she said, a surly look on her face. “Take me back to prison.”
Chapter 13
When I dropped Lily off, her husband informed me that I wouldn’t be required to attend to her until noon the next day as he had decided to take the morning off to go on a harbour cruise with her. Knowing that I wouldn’t need to be up too early the next morning, I went looking for Daniel and Niq when I returned home, planning on hanging out with them for the evening. I found them on the roof-top with the twins and Heller. The twins were playing pool, fairly acrimoniously from the sound of their heated bickering voices, and the other three were relaxing in the hot tub. I avoided the family squabble and went over to the hot tub instead. I leaned over the edge, dangling my hands in the warm bubbling water, giving everyone a friendly smile.
“Why don’t you join us, Tilly?” suggested Niq.
“Sure, why not,” I agreed. I had changed into some boardies and had a bikini top under my t-shirt, pretty certain I’d find the two boys up on the roof-top. I pulled off my t-shirt and climbed in. The four of us chatted for a while. Well, Daniel, Niq and I chatted and Heller mainly listened, spending most of his time staring at me with languid eyes, which was more than a little unnerving after the first couple of minutes. Fortunately for me his mobile rang and he rose from the water to answer it, giving me a welcome break from his relentless blue eyes.
“Holy shit!” I screamed in shock when he stood up. He was completely starkers. Not a stitch on him. Naked. Nude. In his birthday suit. Bare-arsed bare. I think my heart stopped beating for a few seconds. Something like that should come with a health warning for unsuspecting folk. In that second, I learned two important facts about my new boss. First, he was a natural blond, and second, he was a big man all over. And because Heller was standing up and I was sitting down, I received a very up-close and personal view of him.
Everyone turned to me in surprise when I screamed.
“Towel please, Sid,” Heller requested calmly and regarded me thoughtfully. “Matilda, you’re not okay with this?” he asked, waving his hand in front of his body.
I kept my eyes fixed on his, not daring to lower them. My eyebrows had shot up so high that they must have disappeared into my hairline. My mouth had formed a round O shape and I’m sure my eyes couldn’t grow any bigger without plopping out of my head into the hot tub. I found my voice and shook my head repeatedly.
“No. No. I’m not okay with that. I’m not in the slightest bit okay with that. Okay?” I squeaked. That was kind of a lie, because I was perfectly okay with that all right, just not with that being dangled in my face in public without any warning. In private though, it might be a different story. He was very impressive.
“Oh.” He took the towel from Sid and I scrunched my eyes shut while he stepped out of the hot tub, before wrapping the towel securely around his waist. His phone had stopped ringing and he’d missed the call, but he didn’t seem too worried.
“It’s safe to look now,” he said, an amused tone in his voice and an even more amused look on his face. So I opened my eyes and thought that was clearly just his opinion, because in my opinion it was nowhere even close to being safe to look. Now all I could think about was the fact that he was completely naked under the towel. I hoped he had it well-secured. Or did I?
“Thank you,” I said, remembering my manners. I truly hoped I wasn’t blushing, although the telltale burning in my cheeks told me otherwise.
“I suppose I should stop doing that? Now that you’re living here?” he asked, leaning on the side of the hot tub next to me, looking down. I nodded up at him, hyper-aware of his proximity. “Shame. Where I come from we don’t have all these hang-ups about nudity. Not like this country. To us, it’s no big deal. The guys here don’t mind either. You would though?” I nodded again, starting to feel like one of those little novelty dogs you put on the dashboard of your car whose heads bobble around uncontrollably with every small movement.
“And where do you come from, Heller?” I asked, looking up at him, desperately trying to think about anything else other than his nakedness. It really had been far too long between boyfriends for me, I thought. I needed some carnal relief urgently.
“Overseas,” he answered, deliberately vague, amusement still curving his lips.
“Yeah, I sort of guessed that. Your accent gives you away,” I retorted sarcastically. “Anywhere in particular overseas?”
“Europe.” Still vague, but we were narrowing it down somewhat, even though I could have also guessed that little nugget of information. I could see he wasn’t much of a one for volunteering details about himself.
“Any particular country in Europe?” I was persistent if nothing else. He smiled, but didn’t respond. “Germany? Denmark? Norway? Sweden? Finland? The Netherlands? Iceland? Greenland?” I speculated, quickly exhausting my knowledge of countries that might produce blond-haired, blue-eyed Viking giants. He kept smiling, but still didn’t answer.
“There’s no point asking him any questions about himself, Tilly,” Daniel warned. “He won’t tell you anything. Y
ou’re just wasting your breath.”
Heller’s smile grew even wider at that, but I frowned. Why wouldn’t he tell me what country he was from? What was the big secret? I obviously had Mr Mysterious on my hands, which made me even more determined to find out. But right then I beat a strategic retreat and shrugged in a casual suit yourself, no skin off my nose, I don’t really care, I was only being polite kind of way and resolutely changed the subject, enquiring whether anyone had had dinner. Apparently nobody had, and when I suggested that we have a barbeque dinner, there was enthusiastic agreement. I soon realised however that they all expected me to organise the food and do everything, which I thought was very sexist of them. So as I climbed out of the hot tub, I ordered Daniel and Niq out as well to help me. They obeyed without complaining, which made me feel fairly powerful for the rest of the evening. I wasn’t game enough to order the other three men around. Not yet, at least.
I took the towel that Heller handed me and quickly dried myself down, glancing up to find his eyes on me yet again. Why did he keep looking at me all the time? Did I have something hanging out of my nose or some green stuff stuck in my teeth?
Daniel, Niq and I went down to the pantry and I stole a quick look in the mirror while we were there. Nope – no green stuff anywhere. Shrugging to myself, I collected a bunch of goodies, spread it out evenly between the three of us and we hauled it up to the roof-top, our arms full. Then I forced them to chop, mix and stir as I devised some quick sauces for the skinless chicken breasts and salmon fillets we had chosen to barbeque and threw together a couple of salads. I went to the herb garden to snip the flavours I needed for dinner, wishing fervently that Heller would go and change into something, anything. My eyes kept sliding over to his towel-clad body as he leant against the wall, arms and ankles crossed casually, watching the twins playing pool. It was affecting my concentration. I determinedly averted my eyes from his heavenly form and turned all of my attention to dinner as we arrived at the pointy end of the preparation, afraid I was going to chop off a finger otherwise.