by Bailey, Orla
Jasmine’s firm, no nonsense hands following the contours of my entire body bring me back to the present. Jack would enjoy watching this too, I think, biting back a grin.
“Now for the back.” Jasmine manhandles me gently around to face the opposite direction.
I glance down my tanned body. My skin is pale golden, like sun-ripened wheat. Not too over-the-top. I don’t want to look like I’ve idled the summer away in the South of France. I just want the confidence that a sun-kissed glow can give me.
“Is the shade okay for you, Miss Caid?”
“Call me Tabitha. You’ve got it spot-on, Jasmine. Just what I wanted. Thanks.”
“It’s better to start lighter. You can always go darker if you want to.” Jasmine’s hands work themselves over my buttocks. “Separate your legs a bit. A bit wider. That’s it.” When the glove disappears between my thighs I jump. “Sorry. We don’t want to leave a bare patch.”
“It’s fine.”
“Let’s just get the front too.” Her hand sweeps everywhere. “You’re getting gems?” Jasmine keeps up the conversation to divert my attention.
“I’ve never had done it before,” I confess. “I thought it would be a surprise.”
“For Mr Keogh?” She continues working down my thighs.
God, do they all know about Jack? I twist round and smile coyly rather than come right out and say I’m getting a vajazzle to shock him.
“That’ll be a conversation stopper.”
We both laugh out loud. How can you not be friendly with a woman who’s running her hands all over your naked body and sharing your secret surprise for Jack?
“Exactly the effect I’m going for.”
“Have you thought about what you’re having?”
I still have no idea. It’s completely outside my realm of experience. Up until a few months ago I was a student. I studied. I worked. I’ve been thrown into a whole new world of experience and I’m slowly feeling my way.
“Any suggestions?”
She’s working on my calf and lifting my bent leg up behind me to cover my instep and between my toes. I brace my hands against the back wall to steady myself. Frustration and embarrassment drift off me in waves.
“There’s the usual hearts and flowers stuff. Shooting stars. Rockets to the moon.”
Innuendo and euphemism, I realise. “Trains in tunnels?”
“Oh, most of them aren’t that subtle, sweetie.”
“What do you mean?” I’m aghast. Intrigued.
She leans closer and lowers her voice. “Try a rampant cock for size. Pardon my French.”
I snigger. I’ve been trying for one of those all day. It might prove a none-too-subtle hint. No mixed messages there. Blush central goes action stations once more. I somehow don’t think he’d see the funny side. “A bit racy. For my first time.”
“Fair enough. How about some words, then?”
“Words? They can do words?”
“Anything you like. Until you run out of room, that is.” Jasmine snorts. “Sorry.”
I really like that girl. “Like names and things?”
“People have names of their lovers. Celebrities. Messages to that certain someone.”
Now she’s talking. I feel I’m finally getting somewhere. I’m doing this whole dread deed as a message to Jack and love-hearts and teddies just aren’t what I have in mind. What do I really want to say to Jack, right this minute?
“I’ll just go over your face – we want you matching – and then you’re done.” Jasmine swaps dry tan mitts. “Subtle. Caressed by the sun. It’ll be a good foundation for your make-up. You’re having an evening face, aren’t you?”
“Mmm.” My mind is still focused on my dilemma. Come on, girl, I tell myself. You’re in advertising. What do you really want to say to Jack Keogh right this very minute?
Jasmine buffs the skin of my face gently. She stands back as I look at the final effect in the mirror. I glow. I look really radiant. The buffing has brought the blood to the surface and left a faint hint of warmth beneath the golden tones. It looks healthy and natural. For the first time in my life, as I stand there, even with my hair shoved up under a shower cap, I feel I might possibly turn a few heads. Appearances count? Well so it would seem.
Jasmine holds out my wrap before returning me to Sally. “Enjoy your special night.” She winks at me before leaving.
“Wow. Stunning. A bit of colour makes you look fantastic. Have you thought about your gem design at all?” Sally enquires.
Oh I have. I really have. Suddenly I know exactly what I want to say to Jack. With bells on.
Chapter Fourteen
Sally stares wide-eyed when I tell her what I want. She looks a little shocked if I’m honest. “Are you sure about that?”
Dimly I wonder if she knows Jack Keogh better than I do. I have a fleeting moment of doubt before I remember it’s Jack himself who’s been at great pains to point out I have to make my own decisions and stick by them.
“I’m sure.” I’m not. Not for a single minute but I give myself a talking to. If I don’t have the courage of my convictions, then why the hell should Zee-Com? This is advertising, pure and simple. I’m sending Jack a message. And I know how to say it the way I want. With impact. “I’m dead sure.” I haven’t gone through the screaming tortures of the damned removing all that hair just to act like a plucked chicken now. “Let’s do it.” I lie on the bench.
Sally laughs. “You’re paying.”
“Actually, I’m not,” I confess, feeling a little sheepish. “He is.” I glance up at her.
Laughter explodes from her slight frame. “That makes it even funnier.”
It does. It really does. Imagine paying to be told that? Taking a deep breath, I settle back like a living, breathing advertising display board.
“All clear sparkling crystals. The light will catch them and break them into prisms of colour,” Sally says, holding up a carton of gems, twisting them this way and that under the lights. “That way the message will really stand out against your golden skin.”
“May the medium improve the message.” My stomach heaves with laughter.
She settles the carton on the table holding tweezers and glue aloft. “Now don’t move. If you want to make a statement, it has to be perfect. No wobbles.”
I nod. I’m so ready for this.
Sally has a steady hand. Just as well as it’s ticklish. She freehand draws the words to guide her. Each tiny gem is glued and placed in exactly the right spot on my skin until the job is done. She presses over the whole thing with a soft cloth to firm them into place.
“Now be careful putting your knickers back on. You don’t want to flip them off.”
Definitely. I’m much more inclined to flip Jack off when he sees the finished article. I’ll treat them like they’re real diamonds. “I’ll be careful.”
“They’re pretty firmly stuck but carry some of the skin glue with you, just in case.” Sally helps me up from the bench and stands back as I look in the mirror.
Although my reflection shows the writing back to front, it looks fabulous. Everything I’d hoped for. “Thank you, Sally. They’re sensational.”
The three little words form a graceful, glittering curve following the natural lines of my body. I’ve never seen anything quite so amazing. Never done anything quite so daring. Even I fancy my chances tonight.
A sudden shot of nerves drives through me. How will Jack react? Even if he can only stare in disbelief he’ll get a front row advertising campaign.
“Come back soon. I’m dying to know how you got on.”
“I will.” I grin. “I most definitely will.”
“Right.” Sally consults her computer. “Better get you to make up. And we’ve still got your manicure to do.”
I follow her down the hall. Somehow I walk more gracefully, holding myself upright. I feel like a golden statue carrying an important message. The message.
Someone hands me a refreshing fruit smoothi
e and I gulp it down gratefully, in one go. I never realised how much decision making goes into one simple make up session. At home I just use a little eyeliner and mascara; some gloss on my lips. Jack even reacts to that badly, wiping it away with his thumb. How will he respond to me in full war paint?
“Essentially I want to focus on your natural colouring and the clothes you’ll be wearing. What are you planning for this evening?” The make-up artist does a short consultation before commencing work.
I think about the red dress hanging in the bedroom. “It’s elegant. The full works,” I tell her. “And red. Valentino Red.”
Melanie whistles. “The real McCoy?”
I nod.
“Classy. That means we must go bold.” She knows her fashion. She gets a picture up on the internet and I confirm the shade.
“Must we?” Again I remember Jack’s negative reaction to a little slick of lip gloss. I picture him holding my face over the sink and scrubbing off all her efforts with a hot wet flannel as soon as we get home. It could kind of ruin the moment.
I’m beginning to understand the subtle level of control Jack wields and I suspect what I’ve seen might only be the tip of the ice mountain. For a second I recall the vajazzle. The message. Perhaps I should forget the whole idea? My confidence waxes and wanes moment by moment.
“Don’t you fret, poppet, you’re young. I won’t be trowelling it on. But if the colours on your face are too subtle you’ll look washed out next to that dress. It’ll take you over. You want people to notice you, not the dress, don’t you?
“Not too sure about that.” Fading into the background sounds far less dangerous. Yet she knows what she’s talking about. Suddenly that dress becomes my nemesis: the tiger standing between me and the cage door. Either Jack’s purchase will rip me to ribbons or I’ll find the courage to tame it. It’s going to be the latter.
“I’ll trust your judgement.” I think I’d better warn her about Jack though. “But I think my date prefers a more natural look.” It’s the most diplomatic way I can put it which has me pondering how much he actually prefers me for being me and not something I’m not, despite all the accoutrements.
“Mr Keogh? Yes I suppose he does.” She sounds pensive.
Her words sucker-punch me. Are all the staff here on close acquaintance with the infamous Jack Keogh? Just how many women has he delivered to be transformed into something fit for his consumption? It’s wishful thinking to believe he has any special interest in me so why do I keep kidding myself?
“Don’t worry.” Melanie places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Yeah, she knows Jack all right. “We’ll get this right for you. Keep talking to me about your ideas and we’ll reach an understanding that works. This is about you, remember. Not about any man.”
That supportive comment alone shows she knows what he’s like, better than I thought but what do I expect? He’s had years without me in it. And at his own admission Jack is no monk, except, it would seem, when it comes to me. The thought depresses me. A few seconds ago I felt pampered, taken care of, but now I realise I’m not unique. Just one in a long line of women he’s thrown money at. I feel I might as well plaster myself in slap like a cheap whore and really scare him off, back to whoever he last came from.
“Thanks.” I close my eyes and let her start the foundation.
Two nail technicians work on my hands to finish in time. It’s quite exhausting getting ready to go on a date with Jack. I’m glad he suggested I sleep for a couple of hours. I have a sneaking suspicion the night could prove daunting.
“I have false eyelashes ready, but do you know, I don’t think you’ll need them. Yours are naturally long and thick.”
One less thing for me to worry about or for Jack to take exception to, I suppose.
“Black eyeliner, a few coats of smoky black mascara and a lash curl will be all that’s needed. Your brown eyes look fabulous.”
They do. They look bigger, darker, bolder. And can I admit it? Sexier. I look like I’m begging for it which is probably true, all things considered.
We get to the lips. “Can we go nude?”
“You’ve full lips and I’ve really gone to town on those beautiful eyes.” Melanie rubs her forefinger across my lower lip. It’s almost exactly what Jack did to me earlier. “I think nearly nude lips will work fine. A little sheer colour stain perhaps.”
I decline red in favour of French polish on my nails and finally I’m done so I change back into my clothes again. Now if I can just do something with my hair, I’ll give that dress a run for Jack’s money. I’ve never appeared so polished in my life. I wonder what Jack will make of the new, more sophisticated me.
Tabitha Caid, all grown up.
He’s standing with his back to me at the reception desk, talking to staff and paying my bill with his black AmEx as I emerge. I observe the ease he conveys for a moment before noticing all the girls that have worked on me are right there in reception too. I know instantly they haven’t come out to see me off. They’re here for him.
He charms them and they flirt back. It’s such a pretty scene which I find really painful to watch. I see the effect he has on women. Other women. The same effect he has on me. Jack Keogh is used to being courted and worshipped. No wonder he finds my pathetic little adoration so forgettable. My confidence takes another nose-dive.
As if he’s aware I’m standing behind him, he turns slowly and our eyes meet. Everything stops. We stare at each other. When he smiles my relief is pitiable. I must pass muster.
Even Jasmine and Sally are all teeth and tits around Jack. I feel almost like a woman betrayed. At least they stop falling all over themselves after I arrive. Jack holds out his hand and I walk towards him, obedient as a puppy. He turns me around for a three sixty view in front of everyone and whistles, making my cheeks burn.
Leaning forward, he whispers in my ear. “You look spectacular. You’d better not be out of my sight for a minute tonight. Or else.”
Or else what? He flatters as easily as he threatens. It’s clever and deceptive. You don’t know which you’re really getting. He drops a kiss on my perfectly matt cheek.
When I hear a collective sigh I’m thrown. They think he’s being romantic and I don’t like it. I don’t like that he can instigate this green-tinged fiend in me quite as often as he does. He isn’t mine.
Jack pulls out a thick wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and peels off a hefty wodge of notes. They’re fifties, I notice, surprised. He waves them before him for a second, like dead fish flopping in his grip, then slaps them on the desk. There must be hundreds of pounds there. The service tip. It’s not that I begrudge the technicians the money for a moment. I simply have pause at what it represents for me.
“I hope I’m worth every penny,” I hiss meanly, my back to the women.
His eyes narrow on me for a second but I don’t care. He’s made me feel like an escort. I’m sorry I’ve respected his feelings so much and gone for the nearly nude lips and understated nails now. I wouldn’t mind those thick false eyelashes either, to flash at him.
Jack shields his irritated reaction instantly and turns all his charm back on the women again. They’re utterly smitten by their playboy Adonis and thank him profusely. I’m riled to see how often their hands lightly touch him in supposed gratitude.
“Go wild girls. Let your hair down and live it up this weekend. You’re only young once.”
That last comment really stings. I’m only young once too, yet Jack won’t countenance me going wild, letting my hair down. Look how he reacted when I got a little bit drunk. He won’t even tolerate me wearing lip gloss for God’s sake and I’m probably younger than all of them. I feel hurt by his double standards.
If I should feel grateful for Jack’s generosity, I don’t. Not anymore. He’s a controlling man who only wants to humiliate me. He doesn’t care I have feelings too. He propels me from the shop. My better nature and decent upbringing get the better of me and I turn and thank the staff at
the last minute. None of this is their fault.
They call after me to wish me a great night. Just before I leave, I see Sally wink at me. I suddenly can’t help but be grimly amused. I clamp my lips together in case I smile. Jack might think I’ve forgiven him. I’m totally glad I thought of the message now. In your face, Jack. It will be. Thinking about the reveal is gratifying.
Which must be evident when Jack looks at me quizzically. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“No.”
He looks unconvinced but I hold my nerve. I plaster on a who me? look of utter innocence until he shrugs and carries on walking. As soon as the door closes behind us, Jack hauls me to the car. He’s parked on yellow lines again.
“Don’t you care about what laws you’re breaking?” I snipe.
“Never mind laws. What the hell was that all about, back there in the salon? He spins me round to face him. I try to throw his hands off but he isn’t letting go. “Don’t struggle. I don’t want to bruise you.”
I glare defiantly up at him. “Then take your hands off me and you won’t.”
“I want an answer.”
Ignoring him, I stare past him rebelliously. His finger and thumb turn my chin to face him. “I’m waiting.” His voice lowers menacingly. Jack Keogh isn’t used to waiting for anything.
I launch. “How come you think those women should let their hair down and have fun, when you want to control and manage me like a… a pet monkey.”
“Pet monkey?” His lips twitch, which only makes me madder.
“It’s not funny.” Actually it is. I don’t know whether I’ve suddenly realised how stupid that sounds, particularly in light of the hairless situation, or whether it’s seeing him trying to keep a straight face, but I find myself struggling not to laugh too. I so don’t want to laugh. He isn’t off the hook yet.