Personal Protection

by Tracey Shellito

  “Um…” She pressed herself against my stroking fingers. “Yessss… I came back. I’m taking a few days off, then I’m back at the Bird Of Paradise. ‘Direct from Stringfellow’s in London’ makes good advertising. I suppose it helped that I didn’t ask for a raise! I saw this place had gone up for sale when I was coming to visit you. But you weren’t here – I assumed you must be working. I remembered what you’d told me about your financial situation. So I went to visit the man who owned it. I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Now I’m a property-owning member of the bourgeoisie.”

  “What do I have to do to convince you I’m a tenant worth keeping on?”

  “Just keep on doing what… aaah!… you’re doing right now. If I could persuade you to put your tongue to creative use again, I might give you a rent rebate.”

  “For a rent rebate you can tie me to the headboard, cover me in maple syrup and lick the stuff off.”

  She laughed that wonderful laugh. “I don’t think that will be necessary. Give me time. I’ll come up with something.”

  14

  I was grinning like an idiot when I got into the office the next morning. Even the camp strip lighting couldn’t shake me out of my good mood.

  Dean had obviously been pacing for some time. He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the inner sanctum. Then he started trying to peel me out of my clothes.

  “Hey! Did you turn straight overnight?”

  He glared at me. “You went to see the Wicked Witch of the North and didn’t phone me to tell me how it went! Now you’re smiling like a loon.”

  “Moi?”

  “Stop taking the piss! This is serious! You can’t just waltz in here looking like the bloody Cheshire cat! What am I supposed to think? Either you’re high on something, or you’ve learned to love pain. Whichever it is, there is no place for you in my business. You’re my friend, but I can’t afford to give you the benefit of the doubt. You’ll either get yourself killed, or you’ll get our clients killed. I care about you too much to let you to do the first and the second wouldn’t benefit the business.”

  He was serious! “Dean, I have never touched Class A drugs. I’m clean and I’m sober.”

  “Then show me the scars.”

  “I don’t have any! At least, no more than I did when I left last night. You really think I’d learn to like pain?”

  He started to run his hands through his immaculately coifed hair, then thought better of it and stuffed them in his designer trouser pockets instead. “I sincerely hope not. But you’re a bodyguard. You risk your life for total strangers.”

  “For pay! For a great deal of pay!”

  “That’s the only reason? The money?”

  “Yes!”

  Shit, how to explain?

  He wouldn’t be happy unless I gave him justification he’d understand. Like the man said, it isn’t logical to take a punch, or a knife, or a bullet for somebody you don’t even know, or care about. No matter how much you’re getting paid.

  “I don’t enjoy the pain. I accept that it goes with the job. I try to find as many ways to avoid getting hurt as I can. I live with it when it happens, as shit inevitably does. And I make sure I get paid well enough to make it worth it. That makes it much easier to bear. But I’ve never liked pain with sex.”

  I said the last with fingers crossed. I had cause lately to question the truth of that.

  “You sound as if you’re telling me the truth. I’ve seldom known you to lie to me. It’s just that I know the lengths you’ll go to to get what you want. I know how much that squatty little flat means to you.”

  Then he frowned and looked at me hard, striking the heel of his palm against his forehead. It was a melodramatic move. Pure Queen Dean. “That’s it! How can I have been so blind! You’ve found somebody else, haven’t you?”

  “I didn’t have to. And I didn’t have to become Sadomasochist Cecily’s sex-slave to keep my apartment either – squatty or not! She’s come back, Dean. Tori’s the one who bought my building. She’s the one living downstairs.”

  Dean whooped. “The clever cow!”

  “Hey, that’s my significant other you’re calling a cow!”

  “I wasn’t maligning her at all! She has my undying admiration! Tori has just done the only possible thing to allow you both a happy ever after. She’s found a way to live with you without actually living with you. And given you security with no strings.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say that. I still have to pay rent.”

  He gave me a penetrating look.

  “She has a mortgage! I’m no freeloader.”

  “I never implied you were! But don’t tell me she hasn’t reduced the rates for you.”

  “Well…” His smug ‘I told you so’ look reminded me why he is the brains of this outfit. Queen’s intuition. I wonder what our clients would say if they knew?

  Days went by without sight or sound of Cecily. She was either off up country representing somebody professionally, or lying low.

  I was told she was mentoring law students at college. I found that hard to believe. Aside from teaching Ashley, who she was fucking, I didn’t think she had the patience. But it would explain how she came to meet Lisa Moran, who to my knowledge had never been on the scene.

  But whatever the reason for her absence, I didn’t miss her.

  Tori and I settled into a comfortable rhythm. Life and work went back to normal. With Tori home, all was right with my world.

  Except for two things. I still couldn’t prove who’d raped Sammi even though we were sure who it was; and Tori’s attacker continued to elude us.

  Tori seemed to have succeeded in putting the incident behind her. I couldn’t have done it. The spate of violence at the club had ceased since we’d dealt with Sharon. But it rankled that I was working for a detective agency and couldn’t solve crimes this close to home. Sammi’s presence was an unintentional thorn in my side because I couldn’t bring her the closure that she needed. Tori’s mother had paged me every couple of days at first, then once a week, now only occasionally, making me feel more guilty as the time dragged on without resolution. I felt I’d let them down.

  Dean’s dinner party ‘domestic’ was resolving itself in amicable divorce. They divided their assets equally and put the house up for sale. Greg stayed in the place waiting for a buyer while Sharon moved in with Sammi permanently.

  I was looking forward to spending the best Christmas of my life. Then, arriving home from the office one evening, I spied a familiar car in the parking lot. Cecily was back.

  Tori snagged me from her apartment as I was about to head upstairs and confront the bitch. A good thing too; I was already pushing up my sleeves.

  “Yes, she’s back. No, you’re not going up there to get into a fight. She’s a barrister, Randall, she’ll have you in court so fast your feet won’t touch the ground. Whatever her other shortcomings, she is good at her job. Think with your brain, not your fists. Besides, she’d probably get off on being beaten up.”

  She pinned me against the open door, the soft pressure of those curves a more effective captivity than strength. Her fingers brushed though my hair, which was growing into something we were both more comfortable with. I closed my eyes, anger draining out of me to be replaced with desire. Tori leaned into me, catching my lower lip between her teeth playfully.

  “Better,” she growled, sure she’d got my attention.

  Then in an abrupt change of pace: “Your rent’s due.”

  “Shit! Our last client’s cheque won’t clear until tomorrow.”

  “That isn’t good enough.”

  I blinked, desire gone. Money isn’t a game to me. Sometimes I can be too literal. “I can give you half of what I owe…”

  “It’s all or nothing!”

  “What can I do? I don’t ha…

  Even pinned against a door, her breasts crushed up against mine, it took me a moment to shift gears and see what she’d been driving at all along.

  “If we can cl
ose the door I’ll do anything you want.”

  “Promises, promises!”

  “Try me.”

  We ended up on the kitchen work top. Or rather I did. Pants round my ankles, shirt and jacket open all the way down, tie looped round a copper pan on the overhead rack, watch in the sink. Fuck it! The damn thing was supposed to be water resistant to a depth of fifty metres; I’d find out if they were lying now.

  Tori straddled me wearing nothing but her long hair, an ankle chain and a satisfied expression. “Ummm… You really did mean anything I wanted.”

  She trailed chocolate sauce, the kind you get for icecream, around my left nipple then leaned forward to suck it off. I lay back and let her. Sex and chocolate: who can beat it?

  “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid about Cecily.”

  I didn’t want to promise anything of the sort. But she just kept dribbling the stuff on. It was maddening without her mouth to follow. And it was sliding towards my expensive white shirt. It would be ruined if… “Yes! OK! I promise! Please! Just…”

  She grinned and applied her mouth in the nick of time.

  Later, after a shower, she sat in front of the mirror with damp hair in a glorious rippling cloud around her.

  “Let me brush it.”

  “Randall, that is so cliché!”

  “So?”

  “We’ll never have dinner at this rate.”

  “You’re cooking me dinner? You didn’t have to.”

  She blushed. “I wanted to make something for you.”

  Tori was a great cook. When she cooked for us I was properly appreciative. “Thank you.” I kissed her. “What are we having?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “OK, I can wait. I still want to brush your hair.”

  “It never stops at that though, does it?”

  That was true. The feel of the weight of her hair in my hands, the smell of it, the feel of it when it covered us both… “If that’s all I’m allowed to do, that’s all I’ll do.”

  She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t say no. “Let me do what I need to in the kitchen. I’ll join you when I’m finished.”

  Since I was being honoured with a Tori original I didn’t argue. I busied myself arranging the stool from her dressing table so that I could sit on the bed while I worked and she could see what I was doing in the mirror. When she came back she’d towelled her tangled auburn locks and slipped on one of those transparent baby doll nighties that always made me want to ravish her. So much for just brushing her hair.

  It did start that way: de-tangling, smoothing and arranging, using my hands as often as on the brush. But the revealing nightie had slipped by the time I was finished. Whether by accident or design, one café au lait nipple was begging to be noticed. When I grazed it with the bristles it rose to violent prominence. She moaned, snagging my hand and drawing it down the front of her body, watching us in the mirror, suggesting in a breathy whisper that there was other hair I should brush.

  One thing led to another. We found our way to bed.

  And a new use for the hair brush which I’m sure the manufacturers never intended.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, live from Stringfellow’s, London, the Bird of Paradise proudly presents, Miiiissss Tori!”

  The whole place blacked out. A single spotlight hit the stage, illuminating Tori in a feast of skin-tight leather adorned with glittering silver chains. The opening guitar chord of Michael Brown’s Black Leather slid down the scale. The audience roared their approval. Slowly she raised her head beneath the peaked cap and began to strut toward them. I wasn’t the only one holding my breath.

  “Breathe, Randall. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” Sammi drawled, sliding into the seat across from me, a faux cocktail in her hand.

  “It’s something I’ll never get tired of.” Tori’s welcome back performance. Could I be anywhere else? “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that!”

  Her words and her hand on my thigh snagged my attention as surely as a bucket of cold water dowsing me. I removed the hand.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  Something in her voice made me give her my undivided. “All right, I’m listening. What?”

  “You still looking into who raped Tori?”

  “Every bit as much as I’m trying to find evidence to prosecute yours.”

  “Thanks, I’ll hold you to that. But that’s not…

  I wanted to watch Tori but something in her voice said now.

  She smiled bitterly. “Now you’re interested! Story of my life! OK. Don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. Remember that bitch at Lisa’s memorial?”

  “Cecily?”

  “The very same. Well, about the time you and Tori got together she had an… encounter with her.” She sat back and gave me a speculative look, to make sure I was really listening. I was.

  “Myself and some of the girls at the club asked Tori to go out on the scene one weekend. You had to go up to, where was it? Glasgow? You had a client who thought he was going to get shot hiking or something.”

  It was the Cairngorms, but the rest was about right. The idiot had some Thirty-Nine Steps fantasy. Nothing came of it. As far as I know, he’s still very much alive. But if somebody is willing to pay me the going rate for my services, why should I complain?

  “We went to Funny Girls, then Bar B’s. While we were taking in the show, Tori kept twisting round. She said she could feel somebody watching her. She couldn’t pin down who, but after we’d paid in next door, they came up to her. It was your Cecily.”

  “She isn’t my anything except ex.”

  “Glad to hear that.” She twirled a paper umbrella from her drink.

  “Sammi!”

  “Your green eyes flash so beautifully when you’re angry.”

  I growled. She wriggled like a happy puppy. “God, if neither of us was taken you and I could have such fun!” I gave her The Look, and she tossed the parasol back into her drink with a sigh. “All right. She was charming and attractive and Tori was flattered. You hadn’t made a commitment. You were getting over your last girlfriend. Tori wasn’t sure how you felt about her or if anything was going to come of it. She let Cecily chat her up and flirted a bit.”

  I understood. “She was keeping her options open.” Sammi nodded. “But the more they talked, the more obvious it became that Cecily wasn’t really interested in her. She kept asking whether she was with somebody. What were they like? Was she going to stay with them? What were they like in bed? I thought it was her hamfisted way of finding out if Tori was available. Then some woman in the loo told me she was your ex, and I twigged. It was you she wanted, not Tori. She must have seen the pair of you together. I reckon she wanted to know what her chances were of getting you back.”

  “Or decided to split us up.”

  “Whatever. Anyway, I told Tori and she blew her off.”

  “And you’re telling me this now because?”

  “I like you. Tori too. I wouldn’t want it to happen again.” She took a great interest in her long red fingernails. “And the bitch is sitting right over there.”

  Everything slid into slow motion as I lurched to my feet. Sammi’s voice droned like a tape deck with exhausted batteries. The music groaned and faded out. Audience applause thundered against me, rocking me on my feet like a physical thing. And Cecily turned in her seat to look right at me, unleashing a slow smile with all the warmth of winter.

  Why hadn’t I seen it? All this time, all the stones we’d looked under to find the villain in Tori’s life, and the culprit had been right there in mine, laughing at me.

  Time snapped back into its usual frame. Tori pushed through the tinsel curtain and disappeared backstage with her tips. I had missed her whole number. I turned back to Cecily’s table and found it empty. Shit! Where had she gone?

  “Randall? Are you OK?”

 
Sammi.

  I needed to think about this before I did anything. What was it Tori had said to me only this morning? ‘She’s a barrister. She’ll have you in court so fast your feet won’t touch the ground. Think with your brain, not your fists.’ And of course she was right. Especially as I didn’t have a shred of proof.

  “Sammi, I need you to do something for me. Find Tori. Stay close.”

  She frowned.

  Please God, don’t let her give me an argument. I could only work with what I had.

  “OK. With a reception like she got any crumbs that fall from her table will be rich pickings tonight. You think Cecily...?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t say anything to Tori. I don’t want her worried.” Which was of course why I couldn’t guard her myself; if I stood sentry she’d know something was wrong straight away.

  “Mum’s the word.” Sammi smiled. “I’ll keep an eye on her, I promise.”

  “Thank you.” I lifted her too-big hand and gently kissed the fingers, then set her drink back into it, a large denomination bill wrapped around the stem of the glass.

  She made a big production out of tucking the money in a glittery garter, just as if I was a paying customer. Then she blew me a kiss and glided away after Tori.

  I sank back into my seat and tried to scan the club nonchalantly for my nemesis. Just as over-protecting Tori would alert her to trouble, so would haring around after Cecily. I waved away a refill for my drink while I eyeballed the room and tried to come up with a strategy.

  ‘Think with your brain not your fists’. Tori was right. Much as I wanted to beat Cecily to a pulp, I needed proof if I was to make assault charges stick and at the moment I had none. Tori’s desire not to involve the police meant there weren’t even any medical or photographic records of her injuries.

  If I had spoken with Cecily about the sub/dom scene as I’d originally planned, would I have realised the truth sooner? My desire to avoid her at all costs had lost me a valuable means of collecting evidence. I was entirely to blame that we hadn’t resolved this earlier.

  That led to further grim thoughts. If Cecily was responsible for Tori’s rape, might she not be responsible for the death of Lisa Moran, too? Sammi’s attacker and the other girls’ stalker had been identified; who else did it leave? She certainly had the means and the opportunity.