Revival

by Rebecca Sherwin

  I pulled up in the car park of what was now a scrap yard and killed the engine, trying to slow my thoughts so I could focus on just one, instead of the chaos that had taken root. The sound of car-crushing engines distracted me. Ironic, huh? I’d come here to clear my mind and find the truth, but the pounding and creaking just reminded me that I was treading dangerous ground. I sipped more water and opened Ollie’s journal, propping it against the steering wheel. I opened my notes up on the seat and stared between the two books before me. The metalwork factory. School. Offices on Baker Street.

  I decided to start with the factory. Ollie kept his job there, even though he made enough money from fighting. There had to be a reason. I placed his journal on top of mine and left the scrap yard.

  I pulled up outside the factory; the stomach-churning nostalgia hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d been here multiple times to pick Ollie up after a shift. I looked up at the exit and smiled like I did whenever Ollie emerged, covered in grease, still in his sweaty boiler suit. I got out of the car and headed inside. I had no idea what I was going to say, or do, I had to wing it and pray there was a pretty little woman inside to charm.

  There was.

  Rochelle.

  Chapter Twenty One

  I should have known the Aussie would come back to bite me.

  September 20th, 2010

  “Hello, Curtis,” she looked up at stared intensely in my direction.

  “Rochelle.”

  “What brings you here?”

  “Business,” I lied, unsure what ‘business’ I was talking about. “You work here?”

  “I do,” she nodded, her Aussie accent as thick as the day I’d met her. “Metal during the day, booze at night.”

  “A wearer of many hats, it seems.”

  “Indeed.” She licked her lips. “Now, I heard you moved to London. Why are you here?”

  “I need a favour.”

  “Oh, do you?” She raised her eyebrows and stood from her seat. “Why don’t I take you on a tour while you tell me why I should help you?”

  She moved from behind her desk and I followed her through a set of double doors; they opened on a warehouse full of conveyer belts of car parts. There were sparks flying in one corner and the whirring of the machines was deafening, echoing around the large space; every employee looked the same, dressed in dark blue boiler suits, with ear defenders and safety goggles on.

  “Why do you need a favour?”

  “I need to look at some records,” I yelled over the mind-numbing noise.

  “And I presume you have a formal request, granting you permission to look at them?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Ah, then it has to be assumed you were hoping to find a woman vulnerable to your charm who would help you.”

  Jesus Christ.

  “Something like that.”

  How had she figured me out again? She laughed and grabbed my arm, steering me towards another set of doors; we stepped through them and the factory sounds disappeared as they closed behind us.

  “What a shame there are no women here susceptible to your good looks.” She stopped and eyed me slowly from head to toe and back up. “Although, you are looking good.”

  “I’ve got my shit together.”

  “Oh, I doubt that,” she laughed again. “You wouldn’t be here if you did.”

  Touché, Aussie.

  “Are you going to help me or not?”

  I hated that she got under my skin. I hated that I let her.

  “Oh, yeah,” she crooned with a slight nod. “But you’re going to help me first.”

  “I’m not negotiating.” We reached the end of the corridor and began climbing a set of stairs. I said nothing until we had passed three workers who eyed me like I was an alien. “A favour is a favour.”

  “A favour would mean you owe me. A favour for a favour, mate.”

  “You’re a scheming woman, Rochelle.”

  “That I am, but I believe I already did you a favour.” She glanced sideways and I failed to hide my confusion. “I believe sucking you off until you pass out warrants as a loan.”

  “I thought you got yours,” I frowned.

  “Then I believe I did you another favour by making you believe I did.”

  “Fucking hell.” I dragged my hand through my hair, relieved but feeling like an asshole. “What do you want, Rochelle?”

  “I want mine.”

  “Your what?”

  She stopped and turned, edging me back to the wall with her little hands on my chest.

  “I like fucked up men in suits.” She ran her hands down the lapels of my jacket.

  “Daddy issues?” I teased with venom.

  She shrugged in nonchalance, “Daddy issues.”

  She kissed me, a kiss so powerful it made my knees weak. I fisted my hands in her hair and held her to me, hungry for more of the warmth I hadn’t felt since the last time I had my hands on her. She pulled away and I groaned, banged my head back and pushed off the wall to follow her.

  “So that’s where we’re going?” I asked as we turned a corner into another hallway. “To give you yours?”

  She stopped and leaned back against a door with one hand on the handle.

  “Yes. A fuck for a fact.”

  I lunged at her as she opened the door and we fell into the HR office. My mouth found hers and my teeth tore at her bottom lip, until she moaned and fisted my hair. I slammed her into the far wall and pulled at her dress. Her cleavage poured into my hands and I wasted no time taking one nipple into my mouth, my fingers pinching and twisting the other.

  “Yes,” she hissed, arching her back.

  She reached for my trousers but I smacked her hand away and pinned it to the wall. I didn’t want her hands on me. My mouth moved across her chest to her other nipple and I heard her head crash against the wall. When I fell to my knees, grabbed her dress and shoved it up, she giggled with an excited sigh.

  I moved lower, nuzzling into the material covering her body and nipped at the flesh beneath. Her tights were next; I ripped the material open and buried my face between her legs; Rochelle mewled, her hips bucked and her scent surrounded me, making my mouth water. Throwing one of her legs over my shoulder, I hummed and swiped my tongue once, in a long, hard stroke.

  “Yes.” She gripped my hair and rolled her hips. “More, Curtis, more.”

  I tried to stay focused as I teased her through her underwear and her leg twitched against my neck. This was for Skye. I had to get Rochelle off to move closer to Skye’s truth, but I couldn’t stop my body’s reaction; the fury, the aggression, the need to devour the woman moaning for me and begging for more. How fucked up was that?

  I tore her underwear, the material disintegrating, and Rochelle was exposed to me, glistening and begging to be tasted. I obliged, closing my mouth over her and after a less than gentle suck, she shuddered and clawed at my shoulders.

  She was so responsive; her body was on fire, trembling, as all sensation centred on the little nub trapped beneath my tongue.

  Her cries became frantic; she writhed and bucked and managed to pull me closer and push me away simultaneously. I wouldn’t let up; if she wanted hers, she was going to get it. And she’d never forget it. She stiffened and cried as her release washed over her; her body sagged and spasmed, and I felt her pulsing against my tongue until, finally, she pushed me away and slid down the wall to the floor.

  “Wow,” she giggled in post-orgasmic satisfaction and combed her hair through her sweat mussed hair.

  I stood up, stepping away from her and rearranging the steel rod trapped in my pants; I stepped further away when she reached out in my direction and wiggled her fingers.

  I shook my head, “A fuck for a fact, Rochelle.”

  “All work no play, huh?” she teased.

  I shrugged and looked away, “Business.”

  With a heavy sigh, she got up off the floor and nodded to a chair in the corner; I pulled it up and sat down next to her.<
br />
  “What do you want to know?” she asked between ragged breaths.

  She logged into her account and I made a mental note of her username and password. Maybe I had learned something from Charlie. Shit, Charlie. I looked at my watch; she was looking for me, no doubt.

  “On a tight schedule?” Rochelle asked, earning her a silent glare in response. “C’mon. What do you want to know?”

  Shit.

  “I don’t know.”

  She looked at me aghast, “What?”

  “How about you let me browse and go and make coffee?”

  “I’m not a maid.”

  “If you want more of that-” I looked down at the fading quiver in her thighs, “-you’ll leave me the fuck alone and go and make coffee.”

  She looked at me with those burning green eyes and tried to overpower me. It wasn’t happening.

  I wasn’t backing down.

  “Fine.” She threw her hands in the air and stood up. “If you screw up my job, you’ll owe me more than quick fumble.”

  I leaned over and grabbed the mouse, ignoring her as she left the office. Where was I supposed to start? There were programmes all over the desktop and I had no idea what any of it meant. I decided to search employee records first; I clicked through folder after folder – criminal records, probation deals, gross negligent dismissals; nothing that called to me. Until I saw Ollie’s name in a folder marked ‘P’. What the hell did P mean? I grabbed a sheet of paper from the printer and a pen from the pot behind the keyboard, opened Ollie’s folder and looked for his record. There was nothing suspicious, which only put me more on edge. There were contact details, his name, address, date of birth, but nothing else. No interview notes, no employment contracts, no contract termination after his death. I read the file from beginning to end, but found nothing – nothing I didn’t already know. I ran my hands through my hair.

  I went back to the desktop and tried a search; I typed in Ollie’s name and beyond the file I’d just looked at, there was a password protected folder. I tried Rochelle’s login information but it was denied. Careful not to draw attention, I made a note of the file location and went in search of management records. I found the folder and opened the file, but all it contained was a list of numbers. I wrote them down and searched them; each one led to a password-protected folder. I went back to employment records, now in a panic, and searched three random names; each one had the same result. Full disclosure. What the fuck? The secrecy of this place confused me. Why was a metalwork factory hiding files from its employees? Management, no less. And why was Ollie hidden with them?

  I heard footsteps in the corridor so I closed all windows and shoved the piece of paper in my pocket. The door clicked open and Rochelle stepped in.

  “Did you find what you’re looking for?”

  She placed my coffee down and began massaging my head, her nails scraping my scalp.

  “No.” I shoved the keyboard away, took hold of her wrist and pulled her around to sit on the desk. She parted her legs eagerly. I slid between them and squeezed her thighs. “What do you do here?”

  “Me? Admin, taking calls, signing for deliveries…”

  “No, I mean what goes on here.”

  “We make car parts.”

  “That’s it?” she frowned, baffled. I was too. She had no idea what I was talking about and neither did I. “There’s no hidden agenda? Nothing swept under the rug?”

  “No.” She shook her head quickly. “What are you talking about?”

  “So if you’re admin, you have full access?”

  “I have the level of access high enough to do my job.”

  “So there are higher levels?”

  “I don’t think I should say anything else.”

  My heart leapt into my throat and I choked on a breath, “Why not?”

  “You’ve already had more than you’ve paid for.”

  “Fucking hell,” I squeezed her tighter in frustration and a deep growl left my throat. “You can't just be a decent person?”

  She raised a brow and glared at me, “Hypocritical, don’t you think? I think your intentions are far from decent, Curtis.”

  “Fuck off, Rochelle.”

  “Okay.” She smiled a malevolent grin and kicked my chair away, “We’re done here.”

  Bribery. Fanfuckingtastic.

  “Fine,” I barked. “A fuck for a fact, right?”

  “You’ve got it,” she said, winking.

  “Open your mouth.” She leaned forward, parted her lips and I slid my index finger into her mouth. “Suck it. Just like you did to my dick.”

  She kept her eyes on mine, held onto my closed fist and drew my finger further into her mouth. Her suddenly shoeless foot came up to my lap and she rubbed her toes up and down the softened length in my pants. I continued to watch her full lips wrap around my finger and felt her teeth graze gently as I undid my trousers and lifted my hips to ease them down. Her hand replaced her foot and slowly, she stroked me until I was fully erect and standing to attention.

  “How wet are you, Rochelle?” I asked, clearing my throat in the hope of concealing how turned on I was.

  She didn’t speak; she opened her legs to me and I saw the wetness trickle from her. I grabbed her hips sharply and pulled her onto my lap. She squealed and positioned me to sink into her. We sighed and Rochelle threw her head back when I dived in and my balls hit her ass.

  “Fact,” I groaned. She tried to move, but I held her still and repeated. “Fact.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Who has full access?” I allowed her to roll her hips, hoping my compliance would coax hers out of hiding.

  “The managers.”

  I lifted her and slammed back in, forcing a cry to erupt from her.

  “More,” we said together.

  “Two managers,” she panted, grinding her hips and using her feet to lift her and slide back down. “They control everything.”

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t know,” she moaned, riding me as fast as I’d let her. “I don’t know!”

  I lifted my hips as she sunk back down and a ripple moved through her, leaving through her parted lips as a frustrated moan.

  “Who’s your boss?”

  “I don’t know. Email. They email.”

  “Where from?” I swiped the sweat off my brow and kept my eyes on her; my body began to tighten and the heat moved in.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” I lifted my hips again and felt her walls tighten around me. I held her hands behind her back and continued to pound into her. “How do I find them?”

  “I don’t know. Oh, God,” she cried. “I come to work, I check my emails, I do my job.”

  These weren’t the answers I needed. I continued to drive into her; my mind began to blur but we weren’t getting anywhere. I held her to me and stood up, laying her back on the desk.

  “I need to know, Rochelle.”

  “I don’t know!” She pulled at her hair and arched her back. I kept up the pace. “God, I don’t know what you think you’re going to find.”

  “The truth,” I roared, and shuddered as she came around me, squeezing, clenching, crying. “I need the truth!”

  I pulled out and worked myself in rough, uneven strokes until I came with a grunt and spilled myself onto her dress.

  “Curtis!” she screamed, trying to twist away from me.

  I held her still with one hand on her stomach until I was empty and took a few more seconds to breathe it out. I grabbed the cup of coffee, took a huge mouthful and slammed it back down. Rochelle glared at me, humiliated, when I let her up and tucked my throbbing cock back into my trousers.

  “I hope you bought a spare outfit,” I laughed. “We’re done here.”

  I left the office and slammed the door behind me.

  What now?

  Chapter Twenty Two

  It was like coming home to find it wasn’t yours anymore. The locks had bee
n changed, the lights were out and there was no one there to invite you in. And then he answered…

  September 20th, 2010

  My phone rang as I climbed out of the car outside the school. I looked down at the screen and chewed my top lips, deciding whether to answer or not.

  Geoff.

  I didn’t want to talk to him after last night, but I sighed, leaned against the side of the car and answered the call.

  “Hi, Geoff.”

  “Where are ya?” he yelled over the rush hour traffic. “I came to ya office but you’re not ‘ere.”

  “No, I had stuff to do…” Wait. “Why are you at my office?”

  “I wanted to talk to ya.”

  “Geoff,” I pulled my free hand through my hair, “I’m not talking about last night.”

  “Neither am I. Where are ya?”

  “Kent.”

  “Perfect!”

  I scowled and pulled the phone away from my ear, “What?”

  “Stay there, I’m on me way. I’m gonna text ya an address. Meet me there at eight.”

  “What for?”

  “Never you mind. The stars ‘ave aligned, my boy!” he laughed. I frowned. What was he talking about? “See you at eight!”

  Before I could ask anything else, his jovial laugh cut short and the call ended. I stared at the screen, perplexed. What stars? Why was Geoff coming to Kent, and what the hell did it have to do with me?

  I continued to stare into the phone until a text came through and my heart sank.

  I knew that address.

  ***

  “Curtis, my boy!” Geoff approached me slowly outside the old building, and pulled me into him. “You stink.”

  He kept his hands on the tops of my arms and stepped back, studying me with those perceptive eyes of his.

  “You came all this way to get laid?”

  Awesome. I smelled like sex. I would have preferred the dirty, sweaty, I-haven’t-showered-in-forty-eight-hours smell over the scent of Rochelle and the reminder of what I’d done just hours earlier. I decided to go with it; it was better than giving Geoff more questions.