by A. E. Murphy
“It’s a fish, Max. You can get a picture of the next one. Besides, I thought you said it was too small?”
He scowls at me.
Elijah runs his hands through his hair. “Let’s go. I think it’s safe to say this day has taken a turn for the worst.”
“Why?” I blurt, not wanting to leave just yet. “Just apologise to each other and be done with it.”
“I’m far too frustrated.” His attitude and tone confirm this.
“Me too.” Max snatches his rod up and begins to pack it away.
Great. “You two are definitely related,” I grumble, taking my own rod and gathering my things from the grass.
*****
“I apologise for my outburst but I stand by what I said,” Elijah puts in after we pile into the car silently.
“It’s really none of your business,” Max states and he isn’t wrong. I appreciate that Elijah thinks I need protecting, but if it doesn’t bother me then it really is none of his business. Honestly, I rarely notice half of the crap that comes out of Max’s mouth anymore. We’ve been together for so long I tend to switch off to his shit.
“It isn’t? I just worry you might end up saying something that could lose you the woman you love.”
“Is that why your wife hates you?”
Oh for goodness sakes. I want to throttle them both.
“Yes. I suppose it is,” Elijah responds bluntly and an awkward silence fills the car.
“Elijah, if it makes you feel any better…” I begin to say but Max cuts me off by practically yelling in my ear. “She’ll never leave me. I won’t let her.”
“Well that’s healthy.” Elijah’s sarcasm does not go unnoticed.
“Fuck you. You don’t know us well enough to judge us. Liv isn’t complaining.”
Elijah looks at me, his hands on the wheel though the engine has yet to be switched on. I shrink into my seat. He asks, “How do you feel when he puts you down?”
“She feels fine.” Max’s tone is bitter and petulant.
“Let her speak for herself.” Elijah’s tone is demanding and authoritative.
“I know what she’s going to say.”
Elijah narrows his eyes at his younger brother. “Because she’s probably so concerned with upsetting you that she won’t speak her mind.”
“That’s bullshit. My Liv never holds back.” Max reaches forward and tugs on my hair. He’s right, I don’t hold back. “If I piss her off, she’ll tell me.”
Both of them look at me, obviously expecting me to get involved in this ridiculous debate. This is so uncomfortable.
“Can we just go?” I yawn loudly and stretch. “I’m done with this.”
“Olivia,” Elijah says as Max says, “Liv.”
I remain silent and both of them shift in their seats.
It’s not until Elijah puts the car in gear and begins to drive that he mutters under his breath. “Next time I won’t bother.”
This really pisses me off because I didn’t ask for, nor did I need, his help. He should never have berated my husband in front of me without speaking to me first anyway, just as I won’t berate him for this in front of Max, nor will I chastise Max for acting like a possessive idiot.
I don’t believe in public dramas. They’re unnecessary and tacky. I especially don’t believe in taking sides.
Did Elijah honestly believe that I’d go against my husband and take his side? Regardless of whether he is right or wrong, that’s not a fair situation to put me or Max in. It made me uncomfortable and it would have hurt Max’s feelings if I’d done that. If he truly cared, his first port of call would have been to come to me in private. Alas, he doesn’t know me well enough for that yet.
“I’ve decided to call him Bernard.” I say with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.
“You can’t name a fish Bernard. That’s a stupid name.” Max says and Elijah snorts.
“See? Negativity.”
“Oh fuck you.” Max strops and I want to throw myself from this car.
I’m done with today. Fucking done.
“Lovely language, Max.”
“Liv, fucking help me out here.”
“You are both making me feel extremely uncomfortable,” I say briskly and Elijah clamps his mouth shut. “I’d like to drive the rest of the way home in silence.” My nausea is kicking in already so I try close my eyes and imagine myself elsewhere. In an unmoving vehicle. Without two men with me. When closing my eyes doesn’t work, I opt for responding to Penelope instead.
Olivia: You’re forgiven… I don’t blame you at all. Though next time, please don’t abandon me.
Penelope: What happened?
Olivia: Nothing really. I just would have appreciated the female company.
Penelope: I’m truly sorry.
Olivia: As am I. I got your clothes a little muddy around the knees.
Penelope: It’s honestly fine. Keep them. Take anything from that wardrobe. I won’t be returning there for a while.
I don’t respond because I don’t know what to respond. Enna wants me to pry. Olivia doesn’t.
“What time do you have work tonight?” Elijah asks both of us.
”Nine.” I say as Max replies, “Eight thirty.”
“Should we go to dinner?”
“I’d like to go home,” I respond honestly. “But you two can go do whatever it is you want to do.”
I actually hope they do, purely so they’ll make up.
Max reaches forward and tugs on a lock of my hair again. “Don’t be boring.”
He has to be joking, right? “I’m done for the day, Max.”
Thankfully I receive no argument from him or Elijah. My tone of finality must have sealed the deal.
When we get home, I thank Elijah for the wonderful day because, despite the ending, I did enjoy myself. He quickly dismisses me with a nod, clearly unhappy with me and the fact I didn’t take his side or choose to stay for longer.
I don’t let myself dwell on it. If he wants to be immature then he can be. That’s on him.
Max kisses me and decides to go with his brother, just as I expected. I told him not to come home until they’ve made up.
I’m going to use this time to soak in the bath and catch up on my reading.
The more I think about it, the more I feel as though I like the fact that they’re fighting. Isn’t that what siblings do?
I lose myself in a book called Tsura by one of my favourite authors, Heather Anastasiu. I’m not big on reading but I’ll read everything she releases. I lose myself in it so fully that it’s eight by the time I’m climbing into the bath to soak.
Max arrives home as I’m pruning beneath a layer of bubbles and he looks happier than he was earlier. I know this as he peeks around the shower curtain encompassing the bath. His lips touch my forehead and I’m annoyed when I smell the lingering scent of beer on him. He shouldn’t be drinking before work.
“Resolved?” I ask, knowing there’s little point in bringing up the beer. He probably only had one with his dinner.
“I guess so.”
“Good.” I pull the curtain back into place and listen as he pads around the flat, readying himself for work. “You made me feel really uncomfortable today.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” he sighs, pulling the curtain back again. “We’re over it.”
I roll my eyes and sink into the suds until my chin disappears beneath the surface. My knees remain out of the water, reminding me how much I hate having a small bath.
“I’m going.” Max calls only a few minutes later.
I hear the door slam and pull the plug out of the bath with my toes. I wait until the water is level with my hips before I finally climb out. My towel isn’t on the rail on the wall where I left it and I want to scream in frustration. Max must have taken it when he washed his hands. Sure enough, I find it screwed up on the floor in the kitchen area.
Sometimes I just want to punch him in the face. He can be so fucking selfish.
&n
bsp; I give my body and hair a pat down until I feel sort of dry. My hair still drips droplets of water down my back but I’m so angry I don’t care. All I’m interested in at this point in time is finding my mp3 player so I can lose myself in my music and calm myself.
It isn’t in the pockets of the clothes I wore on the fishing trip.
Bloody hell.
Elijah has it.
I might actually cry right now.
I take a few calming breaths and focus on getting ready for work instead. My first port of call is to dry and curl my hair before pinning it loosely atop my head. Then I don a set of silky black lingerie. I may or may not have taken these from work and lied to Max about them being from the supermarket. He believed it easily enough.
Thankfully.
It was risky but so worth it.
Rick picks me up as per usual but spends the journey on the phone. Normally I wouldn’t care but tonight I need a break from my own thoughts.
In fact, the only conversation we have is when he leans in and tells me I smell amazing before returning to his phone call and announcing to the guy on the line that he’ll love me. It looks as though I’ll be getting a new client, or at least that’s how it sounds when Rick starts listing my particular talents.
It’s just business as usual. This is what I signed up for so there’s no point in getting offended over being sold like a freshly prepared steak.
When we pull into the garage, I leave Rick and head to my room. I pass two of the other women on my way. We don’t typically socialise much due to being busy for the majority of the time we work here. Our breaks never synchronise and on the rare occasion that they do, we spend extra time in our rooms preparing for our next client. We get between one and five a night. I prefer just one or two; anything more and I have to really push myself to get through it.
I’m starting to wonder if anyone has shown up to see me at all when twenty minutes go by and nobody comes to knock for me.
I’m contemplating calling Rick when finally there is a knock at the door. It opens with my permission and Rick steps inside, his hand rubbing his protruding belly. I note the pale tone to his skin and the sheen of sweat beading on his forehead.
“Are you ill?”
“It seems that way.” He drops into the chair by my desk and lets his head loll forward. “You’ve got a new client coming tonight after the Duke.”
Panic sets in. “The Duke is coming back?”
“Yes. He’ll be here in about twenty minutes or so. He asked for a lighter room this time.”
“I hope you denied him that request.”
He lifts his head and quirks a brow. “Of course I did.”
Phew. “So who’s my new client?”
“He’s a wealthy man in his late thirties. I’m sure you’ll enjoy him.”
I nod. “Did he have any requests?”
“He had many. I told him to recite them to you.”
I nod again and check the clock on the wall. “Can I get you anything?” I ask, concerned when he groans. “You look awful.”
“IBS. I was a moron and had too much ice cream this afternoon; it’s my own fault.”
I cringe, feeling sorry for him but not knowing what to do. He stands, groaning again before exiting the room and leaving me to gather myself.
I can do this again. I’m sure of it.
Is it wrong that part of me is quite excited to be seeing him again? Enna is thrilled. Already I can feel the tingling heat in my groin. By the time I’m moving towards the room in which I’ll be cheating on my husband with his brother, I’m aching.
I wish I could lie to myself and convince myself that I don’t want him, but I’m not the kind to deny myself my feelings. It’s unhealthy to be in denial and I won’t be that person.
Maybe that makes me a horrible person but it’s all so complicated. Nothing is so black and white.
I’ve never been as nervous before a dance as I am now, not even before my first. I’m unsure as to why, although it’s possibly because Elijah and I only saw each other today. The more time we spend together, the more at risk I am that he will discover my identity.
I just have this awful niggling feeling in my stomach. I can’t shake it.
As I’m making my way to the room he frequently chooses, I contemplate being direct with him. Maybe if I offer to introduce another girl into the mix, he might take a liking to her and choose her in future. It seems like a farfetched thought. What if my own paranoia and my own desperation to separate myself from this is the one thing that leads to my discovery?
That wouldn’t be ideal.
After this thought I’m unsure of how to proceed, so I stop in the hall, just by the door, and place my hand against the wooden surface.
He’s in there right now, awaiting Enna and her services.
I inhale a long breath and slowly blow it out before checking my mask for the hundredth time and entering the room.
The light this time is gold. It casts a peculiar glow around the room despite the fact that its focus is the pole. The rest of the room is shrouded in darkness. I’m being spotlighted.
“Today you’re going to do what I want.” His deep, masculine and husky voice travels from the throne. I hear ice clink against a glass as he no doubt takes a sip of some expensive beverage that I probably couldn’t afford on even my salary.
“Am I?” Enna speaks, her voice languid and sultry. Alluring.
“Yes.”
I step toward him but, in the darkness, I see his silhouette raise a hand. I stop. I wonder if when he looks at me now I’ll be able to see his silver eyes glow in the peculiar lighting.
Is it wrong that I want it? Is it wrong that I want our eyes to connect despite everything?
“And why will I do that?”
He clears his throat and relaxes in his seat; his trousers make the seat of the throne creak as they rub together. “Because I’m paying you to.”
“Has that ever mattered before?” I move a few paces and stop between his open legs. My fingertips glide along the length of his tie before tugging it free. “It’s more fun my way, wouldn’t you agree?” His groan is loud and deep when I thread my fingers into his hair and forcefully tug his head backwards. I smile.
Enna smiles.
“I want to see you on the pole today.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Any particular reason why?”
His hands circle my wrists. I tense but he only moves my hands from his hair before releasing me. Regardless, it is still against the rules, so I place my knee onto his crotch and pinch his chin with my hand.
“Because this will be my last visit,” he states, sounding solemn.
My breath catches in my throat. I hate that I feel so affected by this admittance. “Well that is unfortunate.”
“It is.” He agrees, moaning when I pull my knee and hand away. “Are you unhappy with me, my Lord Duke?”
Moving to the pole, I place my hands against it and move around it slowly. The spotlight is warm against my skin. I welcome it; it’s something to focus on as I sway my hips and try to keep my mind off the moisture between my legs. How does just being in his presence affect me so badly?
“On the contrary, you do things to me that I’ve never received from another. I wish I could make you mine and only mine. Permanently.”
“But the thrill would die, as it always does.” I sigh dramatically and bend forward until I can see him between my calves. “What a shame that would be.”
I smile wickedly, flashing him a glimpse of my whitened teeth through the lace fabric that drops over my mouth.
He bites on his lip and swallows when I raise my leg slowly and hook my ankle around the pole, above my head. “You have the most perfect pussy that I have ever had the fortune of laying eyes on.”
“I could say the same about your cock, my Lord Duke.”
He stands and steps into the outer circle of the spotlight. “Is that what you tell all of your clients
?”
I lower my leg and move around the pole, aiming my back at him. “Is that truly what you think, my Lord? Maybe you’re the only one that I say it to in honesty.”
The pole rests between the soft cheeks of my arse. My hair spills down my back in waves of chocolate.
His fingertips lightly graze my shoulder after I drop my gown to my ankles and reveal to him my curves and nudity, only partially covered by black, patterned underwear.
His hand curves around my throat from behind and I gasp, fear spiking through me. He presses me into the pole and brushes my hair from my ear.
“Should I believe you?”
I hesitate. Will his answer have any effect on the grip of his hand as he squeezes my neck so firmly? Should he? “Yes.”
“And will you also convince your husband the same when he finds out just what his pretty little wife has been doing?”
My heart falters. His hand tightens. I feel my pulse beat heavily against his thumb and I know he feels it too. “I don’t know…”
“Cut the crap, Olivia.” He hisses in my ear.
A sharp, panicked choke leaves me just as the door opens and Shade steps into the room. “Hands off.”
The Duke releases me and steps away as Shade looks at me for guidance.
“I’m fine, it’s fine.” I wave him off. He only lingers for another moment before exiting the room.
“Are you going to try to deny the truth?” Elijah asks, stepping before me as I bend to scoop the gown from the ground.
“What’s the point?” I ask, sighing. I wrap the gown sideways around my body after battling with it to find the arms. “I should go.”
“No.” His fingers wrap around my arm, not tight enough to hurt but tight enough to keep me in place.
“You need to stop touching me or Shade will throw you out.”
“I don’t care. I know where you live. We can just continue this conversation in front of Max.”
I want to punch him in the face, as irrational as that sounds. The fact he even dares to speak my husband’s name at this point in time only makes me feel sick and angry. He’s the only thing available for me to take that out on too.