There were only 10 boxes with shit in it that I called my own – I had been working for 6 months and saved every penny that I earned (almost) Fitz wrote me a list of things I would need for ‘my own house one day’ and I remember laughing at how mad it was that this geezer thought I was actually going to have my own place. Guess he had the last laugh eh?
I spent days painting it after we collected the keys, I did it when I woke up, after work, at weekends.
I changed the colour 2 or 3 times in my bedroom but only because I could.
Walking up the stairs to my floor, all the things, I loved that very first day now irritate me.
I don’t like the fact that the stairs are concrete and outside, because guess what? people still piss on them. The lift is a piece of shit that is usually full of shit or something similar.
My iron gate in front of my flat door, it doesn’t make it desirable, like I thought on that first day, Fitz’s gates, strategically placed, at the end of a huge drive, they are desirable.
I lock the door behind me and throw my keys on the small table in the hall between my bedroom and the bathroom. I switch on the lights to the kitchen and look out my lounge window. The windows are huge, those fire escape windows that open all the way. I loved them the first day. Still liked them 3 years in, hate them 8 years later.
My kitchen is sparse, just basic fitted kitchen, lino on the floor and two windows either side of my kitchen table. Black and White is the theme. It was cheap and kept me cheerful.
Reaching into the cupboard, I grab a glass and pour a good 3 fingers of citron vodka, it’s all I have, and something has got to take the edge off.
I turn my phone around in my hands, her name is staring back at me, do I call her? Its only just midnight, will she still be there? I am such a girl.
Grabbing the remote, I settle into the obnoxious leather sofa my boss was checking out of his summer house. According to Aaron, his dad brought it for him and it ‘doesn’t go with what his designer suggests for the room’ Aaron spends way too much time spending money.
Flipping on the TV I watch Sky News and try to get my mind off my own golden girl. I don’t think any girl or woman for that matter has gotten to me like Rayne. Leaning my head back, I take a sip of the clear liquid, it burns my throat as it slides down. I don’t know what it is about her but she’s in my head. The minute I spotted her, caramel skin, golden hair, eyes of the wild cat. That black dress, showed every curve of her body. When I first saw her on the floor I thought “fuckable”
When she bantered with me and held her own – I knew it was me that was fucked
She set me on fire, the only thing that was going to dampen the wood was her climbing me like a damn tree. When I held her against me, it killed to let her go. If it was anywhere else, she would have been over my shoulder and taken to the nearest hardest surface, so I could go with my first thought. As much as my heads saying it’s a damn good job you didn’t, my current chubby is asking why she isn’t laid out on my bed as we speak, why am I here on my own when I know full well she was responding to me. She felt what she was doing to me, she had goose bumps for god sake.
I unbutton my shirt, take off my belt and head to my bedroom, I promised her a call and damn it she’s going to get it.
Stripping off I get into my only still favourite part of the house, my shower. Standing under the stream, my head is going into overtime, eyes shut as the water beats down over me, I can see her, that smile, the little nip she gave her lip when she took me fully in, her eyes alight with fire and a little lust, that heavy bottom lip that I want to suck on. Her dress was terrible at hiding her figure, that woman has the softest most sensual curves, when I had her against me my hand just fit perfectly. My little finger stroking the top of amazing ass. Kim Kardashian may have broken the internet, but Rayne damn near broke my damn zipper!
If I have friction burns on my dick it’s her fault. The minute I think of her undressed, I am so hard it hurts. It takes seconds to pump out my frustrations, I would be ashamed of myself, only I’m hard again. I know my hands aren’t going to cut it today but unless she appears at my door suddenly, they are my only option. I am screwed.
Tying the towel loosely around my waist I grab another drink and put it on my bedside table. My phone is the only light in the room as I stare at her name on my screen, the little blue mobile icon taunting me
“fuck it”
If she doesn’t answer it just means she’s not naked on her bed.
Resting against my head board, my shaking hand makes the next move
One ring
Two rings
Three rings
If she doesn’t answer at 5, I am hanging up.
Four rings
“hello”
The sleepiest voice I have ever heard echoes around my room, sending a shockwave straight to my groin and my heart
“hey”
“hey yourself”
“you sound, a little drunk”
“a little? I will have you know Connor really don’t know your last name, that I am very drunk”
“good to know” I chuckle “where are you Rayne?”
She pauses for a moment, I can hear the cogs of her brain ticking over
“If I said I think I am in my old teenage bedroom, would that make this super weird?”
“No, unless you’ve got care bear bedding or something equally flaccid inducing then nope not weird”
Rayne starts to make a muffling sound, like she’s getting under the sheets or maybe taking something off
“Rayne, what are you doing? “The frustration edges out of me
She drops a breathy laugh down the line and I lie my head back against my pillows and draw a breath from my toes. Whose bright idea was this phone call
“Rayne?”
I can hear a little murmur over the phone but can’t make it out, what is she up to. The temptation to ask her switch to facetime is there but I’ve got to try and hold onto some of my man card.
There’s another little murmur and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was snoring, soft feminine little snores.
The pervert in me listens for a little longer, she’s definitely asleep and murmuring
“uh Connor mmmmmmmm”
I chuckle to myself and hang up the phone
Not how I expected the call to go but I still can’t help the silly grin on my face as join her in slumber. If only she was curled up into me.
Rayne
Standing at my office window, watching London walk by, I sip my coffee desperately trying to get rid of this stinking headache. I never get drunk to the point I pass out in my clothes but low and behold I woke up this morning in my old room, head thumping like an 808 and my mouth so dry it felt like a gorilla’s armpit, probably smelt like one too.
Ma took great pleasure in handing me a coffee and informing me that she’d picked out something of hers for me to wear to work. Great. I will never live this down.
After a 30 second shower, throwing my mane into some semblance of a professional top knot and squeezing into my borrowed dress I hightailed it into the office. This Monday was going to drag.
“Morning Rayne”
I smile and great Paige, my PA. I work for one of London’s largest PR firms and handle “special clients” I am on a retaining contract with two celebrity management agents and my days are typically comprised of clearing up a shit storm before it hits the ground. It helps when your father in law is, well was, a partner in one of the best law firms this side of the Atlantic. Our days often crossed, me suggesting how to get the latest celebrity out of a cheating scandal and him drawing up the papers to keep her or him quiet.
It’s a mucky job, and if you had told me this is what I would be doing 10 years ago I would have laughed in your face but now I can’t see me doing anything else. I do it for the partner involved. I do it to keep families together not to save the client embarrassment. You sow funky seeds you grow funky trees. Karma comes back around but i
nnocent, loyal partners don’t need their lives thrown upside down under the public spotlight. In these days of social media, it’s getting harder and harder, but it keeps me on my toes.
Snapped out of my thoughts, I turn back to Paige. She’s enthusiastic and a grafter I don t need anything more
“Morning Paige” I say turning back to my desk. “please be delicate I have a raging headache and need to get through today with as few casualties as possible”
“understood” Paige salutes and then reams off my day. Monday meeting cancelled because my MD is off – perfect. I have to cover for him in his absence but that equates to just a few signatures and deliveries today. New client call at 12pm – Paige hands me the new client services form...
My new client is a Premier League Footballer, he is represented by L.G.B management Leilani’s company!
“Thanks Paige” I say dismissing her then reach for my desk phone and hit Leilani on speed dial.
“LGB Leilani speaking “
“What have you got me roped into now”
As soon as Leilani giggles and I know I am in trouble
“I haven’t roped you into anything, I’ve got a client whose got a few issues and I need someone to spin it to win it, ergo I book him in for you!”
“what kind of issues are we talking about?” I grab my legal pad out of my drawer and my pen, I get the feeling that I will need to make copious notes
Leilani sighs on the other end of the phone and I can hear her furiously taping on her keyboard
“Check your inbox sweetcheeks,”
I open my email and there is a link to the celebrity page in one of the tabloids, these damn papers are the bane of my life.
I read slowly “ex celeb goes fishing star Cherri B shows off her burgeoning baby bump, months after denying she’s expecting, Cherri has decided to exclusively reveal to us that not only is she pregnant, but the father is a premier league football player who refuses to acknowledge the her or his baby”
I continue reading to see what else I can see, what are they hiding behind the lines, they always drop a clue or two in the text, subtly but still there, then someone on line (usually someone on the newspapers books) tweets whoever they think it is, relay back to the text and BINGO scandal exposed without a single name being uttered by the newspaper.
“give me the facts Lei and give it to me straight, is he the father, could he be father does he need a paternity test, why does this need me?”
“He isn’t the father because he swears he was too drunk to have sex with her, he says he can prove he didn’t have sex with her because his team mates were in the room at the time and videoed the whole thing, including a married team mate being the only one to have sex with her”
“ok, so we leak the video, he’s cleared, married player – hold on, married player isn’t either of our clients, already is he?”
“nope”
“great, so married player faces the wrath, our boy walks away from this unharmed, job done”
“yeah, see that was my stance until I sat down with Malachi and he refuses to expose his team mate because its Johan Terrence”
If I had still been drinking my coffee, I would have spat it out, Malachi Harris, former bad boy played for Manchester Town before moving to current champions Anfield City. Johan Terrence is the golden boy captain of not only Anfield City who are not only running away with the title again at home, they are on target to win in Europe, he is also the England Captain about to lead us into the Euro’s and his wife happens to be a national hero in her own right who is pregnant with their 4th child
“SHIT”
“yep, this is a disaster from start to finish, we all know how Johan took Malachi under his wing, he has helped Malachi’s career no end. Johan has tried many a time to sign up with me, so I know he’s not squeaky clean but this, this could ruin everyone – us included if we are responsible for exposing him. The nation will not forgive us”
Leilani had a point, there were some celebrities you just didn’t touch, and Johan was one of them, he was untouchable, made of sheer Teflon. Earns more in endorsements than any other sports man in Europe, his legal team were ghost like, nobody knows who they are, they keep him out of trouble and out of the tabloids. However, we were going to spin this, it needed to be clean and crisp. I get the feeling Cherri wants money and lots of it, why should Malachi pay? I need to meet with him and Leilani, I could do with Trent too, but now he’s retired not sure who we can trust.
“Lei, come in with him, need to speak to Trent and get on this asap”
“that is why I love you sweetcheeks. Before I forget, have you heard from tall drink of Hubba Hubba?”
I thought I had got away without talking about Connor. Urgh my head hurt even more. I woke up this morning and had a text from him thanking me for best phone sex he ever had and hoped I hadn’t woken up with wrinkly fingers. This wouldn’t have bothered me if I hadn’t woken up with a pillow between my legs and a dull ache to match. I didn’t remember even talking to him but when I checked my call list, there he was answered call 00.47 for 6 minutes. I must have been going for it because that is some kind of record, but he probably had me coming as soon as he said hello.
His touch had sparked something in me, something that I hadn’t felt before. He set my skin on fire and my body alight. His voice was like a hot bath, you know that feeling when you ache after a long strenuous day and you dip your toe in that deep hot water, that sensation that engulfs every part of you and you sink into the silken water letting it immerse you from head to toe because it feels that damn good? that’s what I get when he says my name, I tingle everywhere... Dramatic, perhaps but oh so true.
“Apparently, we had a conversation last night, don’t remember much about it but he seemed to enjoy it” I winced waiting for her response
“you dirty dirty biatch... got him all worked up, jacking off and you cannot even remember what you said, guess you’ll have to do it in person. God, I bet his hung like a...”
“Alright Lei, I get it, let’s shelve that for another day, we’ve got more important things on right now”
I know when I go into work mode, Lei follows suit
“point taken, see you at 12.30”
I hang up and rub my head, reaching for my mobile I don’t know what I am going to do, do I text him and pretend that I had fun too, do I admit that I was out of it, or do I just front it out
I flip my phone over and over in my hands, “fuck it”
I go with the latter – Ok Connor let’s see what you got
I aim to please... it hit the spot for me
Turning Point Page 3