“London is a great place to live. I was the same, it was the only city I wanted to live in other than being home. Thank you for agreeing to come here, I honestly thought you were going to say no.”
“I honestly thought about saying no, I’m trying to figure out why I didn’t.” I still can’t for the life of me comprehend why I never said no, why I didn’t walk away but I’m glad that I didn’t. I’ve actually had a good time, I’ve been relaxed the whole time around him.
“I’m glad you didn’t.” He smiles, and my heart soars scaring me to death, why the hell am I feeling this? “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I nod as he turns, and I follow him with my eyes as he goes to the counter and pays for our drinks; I stand needing to get out of here and away from him as quickly as I can, my hands are shaking with fear, I have no idea what the hell is going on, but I don’t like it one bit. As soon as he comes back to the table, I come up with an excuse to get out of here. “It’s getting late, I really should be getting home.”
He doesn’t look disappointed in fact he looks happy. “Yes love, it’s getting late, let’s get you home.” He takes my hand, leading me out of the cafe and into the street. It’s stopped raining thankfully and I’ll be home in less than ten minutes although I can’t really call a hotel room home. “Where am I bringing you?” He asks hope in his bright blue eyes.
“Nowhere, thank you.” I smile at the disappointment in his eyes. “I had a great time thank you so much for the tea.” I lean into him and rise up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.
“Was my pleasure Natalie. We’ll meet again, soon.” He kisses the corner of my mouth before giving me a wink and walking away.
I smile as I stare at his retreating back. Maybe I’m normal after all.
Chapter 2
It’s been three months and I can’t get Richie out of my head, that arsehole came back the next night, he brought me another cup of tea and we talked again. It was nice, and he was so sweet; I really did like him,it that was until I was stupid; God I thought it would be a good idea to bring him to my hotel room and sleep with him. I actually had sex with the man; when I woke up in the morning he was gone. No note, nothing. I’ve yet to find out what happened and I honestly doubt I ever will. He got his freebie the cheap bastard. The worst thing about it all; I was actually happy for those few hours where we had sex, then curled up in his arms, and I actually had the best sleep of my life. I actually thought something could blossom, how bloody dumb am I?
I shake my head ridding myself of the thoughts of him, he had his time and now I need to get over it and move the hell on. It shows me that men can’t be trusted and that I’m doing the right thing by keeping my distance from relationships. With my job, I’m in control, I have to understand what I’m getting myself into before I get into the car, if they’re drunk or high, I don’t get in the car. Most of the time I have regulars, the odd time I’d get a new client; usually anyone who’s new tends to come back. I try to give them a good time because if they enjoy it, they’ll come back again.
Walking down the street I catch a glimpse of a black BMW drive past and I sigh, I won’t be able to work this street much longer; there’s a new pimp in town and he’s made it quite clear that he’s taking over these streets. Raul the Pimp has spoken to me and three other girls that work these streets and has offered us protection. Two of the girls have accepted his proposal, I on the other hand will be moving elsewhere, I barely make enough money to survive, why on earth would I give someone my money just to have a fraction of it back? Nope, I’d rather set up elsewhere and try to get some new clients, hell maybe I should charge more for my services too? I’m thinking of heading further out of the centre of London, it’ll be cheaper there and maybe I can afford more? I’m thinking moving down south to Clapham or Balham. I guess I’ll have to see where I’m able to work.
A horn beeps from behind, I turn my head to view who it is; I’m praying it’s not Raul, he’s given me a few days to move on before he takes over here. It’s not the black BMW, instead I catch a glimpse of an old Vauxhall Corsa, it looks like it’s been in a bad crash. There are dents in the bumper and one of the wing mirrors has gone. I’m curious as to how this is even allowed on the road; it looks like a death trap. I keep on walking and wait and see if the car comes to a stop beside me. I roll my eyes when the beeping gets louder and more frequent. This is definitely a newbie, there’s no way he’s had a working girl before, if he had he wouldn’t be bringing attention to us both.
The car idles at the curb and I look on with amusement as the driver leans over and unwinds the window.
“Hey,” I say, catching a glimpse of the middle-aged man looking at me with nervous eyes, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead and his hands are gripped to the steering wheel. “What do you need?” The poor guy looks absolutely petrified.
“Get in,” he demands, not even looking at me; his eyes are on the road ahead of him. I realise that he’s not English, he’s got an American accent, I’ve never had an American client before. I guess there’s a first time for everything.
I shake my head at his rudeness but open the door and get in. As soon as I close the door behind me, he puts his foot down on the accelerator. I’m thrown back into the seat as he drives off without waiting for me to put on my seatbelt. He doesn’t even glance at me as he drives us towards the main road.
“Excuse me, where are we going?” Usually my clients would drive down the road towards the abandoned building site; I have no idea where this fella is going.
“Hotel,” he says through gritted teeth, knuckles white with the grip he still has on the steering wheel. What the hell is with this man?
“What hotel?” I’m nervous, no not nervous, I’m actually scared. This guy is creeping me out and he’s only said three words to me.
He turns and smiles at me, and I notice that his teeth are black. “Relax,” he tells me, and I’m hit with the smell of alcohol, the arsehole is fucking drunk. Shit, why the hell did I get into this car? I never ever get into a car with someone under the influence.
He pulls into a cheap hotel car park. “Ready?” He asks as he gets out of the car. I nod unable to speak, I’m not sure if it’s wise to get out of the car and leg it, and get as far away from him as humanly possible. He walks around to the passenger’s side of the car and opens the door, I look up at him as he holds out his hand to help me out. Maybe he’s not as bad as I think, he’s being very sweet by helping me out of the car.
Placing his hand at the base of my back he leads us into the hotel, to anyone looking on we’re a normal couple, not a man and a whore. He walks past hotel reception and towards the lift, shit, he must have already checked in. I presumed that he had just spotted me and pulled up beside me, but I was wrong. I’m so confused by this man, he’s jittery one minute, acting as though he’s a virgin and the next he’s leading me into the lift as though he’s my boyfriend.
As the lift hits the fourth floor, I follow behind him, looking around this hotel confuses me just as much as the client in front of me does. On the outside the hotel looked run down and dreary, basically giving off the vibe that it’s cheap and a good place you’d find drug users. Whereas on the inside the place looks amazing, it looks modern and sleek. He uses the key card to open the door and I’m blinded by lights, it’s so bright. The walls are a cream colour and the windows are huge, they let so much sunshine in. Looking around, I fall in love with this room, it’s so spacious. There’s a huge double bed in the middle of the room along with a sofa.
Looking at the client, I notice that he has a gleam in his eyes. “Lady, I usually use a service for this type of thing, but I saw you last week and I knew that I had to have you.”
He walks towards the chair and sits in it, leaning back with his hands behind his head, a smirk on his face, gone is the weird freak that I met in the car, in his place is a confident man who's looking at me with lust. “I’ll give you two thousand pounds for the night, you will do as I say and act
as I want. If you don’t, there will be consequences.” His voice is strong as he stares directly into my eyes; it’s unnerving. “What do you say?”
Is he crazy? For two grand he can do whatever it is that he wants. “Yes.” Even as I say that word, dread fills me, something is not sitting right.
He stands and walks over to me, purposely walking slowly. My pulse is racing, I’m intrigued as to what’s going to happen, the anticipation is building and it’s weird but I’m enjoying it. “Get on your knees.” His voice is low as he instructs me, I don’t even hesitate, I get on my knees and wait for the next command.
He stands in front of me with legs apart, his hand coming up and stroking my face, his hands are calloused and rough against my cheek. My fingers go to the zip of his jeans only for him to slap my hands away, his lip curled up as he takes a step backwards. “You will not use your mouth on me.” He looks at me with dead eyes, this man is definitely a nut job, I really don’t get him. His moods change as quickly as I can drop my knickers.
I get up off my knees and stand up tall. I will not be bullied. “Excuse you, who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” I’m still baffled as to why he had me on my knees if it wasn’t for me to use my mouth. He hardly thought I’d jack him off while down there, fuck that, I’d save my poor kneecaps.
He stalks towards me, and I stand where I am, I don’t want to show him fear. As he comes to a stop in front of me, he lets out a bitter laugh one that chills me to my bones, I really should turn and leave but for some reason I’m glued to the spot. I watch with complete bewilderment as he unzips his trousers, a smirk etched on his lips, looking at him now, he’s the epitome of a creep.
“What is it that you want from me?” My voice strong and even just how I want it to be.
His eyes narrow. “I want you to take what I give you.”
I raise my brow. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
“Lady, do you want the money or not?” he barks out, and I jump. “I don’t need no time wasters.”
“What do you want?” I ask again, he’s an arrogant, rude arsehole and he’s pissing me off.
“I want you to get back on your knees,” he demands, his voice has a dark edge to it as he looms over me.
I do as he says and get back down on my knees. He walks behind me, and I’m instantly uneasy, why the hell is he going behind me? There’s a mirror on the wall showing me exactly what he is doing. He pulls off his trousers and his boxers and his flaccid cock limply hangs. I roll my eyes. The men with the biggest egos always have trouble with getting it up.
My tongue darts out and wets my lips; I’m bloody nervous, but I bite the bullet and ask him the question that’s on my mind. “Do you need help?”
He grunts in my ear. “No, I fucking don’t,” he yells as his hand goes into my hair and yanks, dragging my head backwards. “Do you think this is funny?”
My hands go to his arms, I try to pull his hand away from my hair but it’s no use, he doesn’t budge. “No, I don’t think it’s funny. Will you let go of my hair?”
He lets go and it’s instant relief but that’s before I’m thrown to the floor. “You’re just like the rest of them.” Stalking towards me, I made the wrong choice coming here with him tonight. His face is contorted with rage, when his fingers tangle in my hair and he drags me across the room, my mind races.
Will I ever get out of this hotel room alive?
“Leave me alone.” I try to wriggle out of the hold he has on my hair, it’s painful, and if he jerks any harder my hair will be ripped out. “Get off of me, it’s not my fault,” I yell and instantly regret it as he lets go of my hair, his face, God, I’ve never witnessed anyone so angry before. “I’m going to go now,” I say calmly, my hands raised in hopes that he calms down.
“You stupid bitch.” His arm swipes out and he backhands me.
My head flies to the left as pain radiates through my cheek.
“You think you’re getting out of here? You’ve not even serviced me yet!” He sneers at me, spit flying as he does so.
“How am I meant to do that?” I ask, he can’t get it up. I’m not a magician for crying out loud.
He grabs me by my hair pulling me up against him. “Use your imagination, I thought girls like you would be pros at things like this.” He’s an angry and mean bastard. “It’s your fault anyway. If you weren’t so talkative this wouldn’t be happening.”
“It’s your fault you can’t get it up; not mine.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I instantly regret them. Why on earth did I say that?
“You fucking bitch.” He throws me onto the floor and all the oxygen is taken from my lungs as his foot connects with my ribs. “How dare you?” he screams as his fist hits my eye and I immediately lose sight in it. He’s not letting up, it’s blow after blow. Pain radiates around my body and I’m whimpering, begging him to stop. Why are men such fucking wankers? Why do they always have to bring hurt wherever they go? I hold my breath as his foot comes into my line of sight down onto my nose, pain bursts throughout my face and before I comprehend what's happening it’s lights out.
I come to, my body in complete agony; I lie still and listen hoping that fucking bastard is gone. It’s dead silent and I try to open my eyes, but I can’t; one of them is too swollen. It’s hard to breathe let alone move but I have to get up and get the hell out of here, he may come back, and I don’t have it in me to fight him off again. Not that I did a good job the last time. Once I open my eye, I notice that the hotel room is shrouded in darkness except for the lamp that’s on in the corner. I really need to get the hell out of here and quick.
I’m not sure how long it takes me to get up off of this floor, but I do it. I get up and drag myself into the bathroom, the bright lights are harsh, and I have to blink a few times to adjust; I cringe when I catch sight of myself in the mirror, I look horrendous. My eye is swollen shut, my cheek is black and blue, and I think I may have a broken nose, I can’t really tell as my whole face is swollen, but I’m finding it hard to breathe through my nose. Grabbing a towel off the side of the bath, I wipe the blood off of my face, I can’t go out looking like this, I’ll get funny looks from people.
Walking out of the bathroom, my eyes search the main room I need to find something that I can cover my face with. Something on the bed catches my eye, anger and relief hit me at once, that wanker left money. I’m angry that after everything he did, he thought it was okay to leave money but I’m relieved that he did. I’m such a bloody mess, I just want to get home and collapse into bed. Snatching the money up I don’t even bother counting it, I shove it down my bra, and continue to look around the room. Nothing, there’s nothing I can use to disguise my face, to hide it.
I leave the hotel room keeping my head down the entire way to the lift. I can’t be caught looking like this, and I don’t have the energy to take the stairs. Although it would be easier to hide my face if I took them. The lift dings signalling it’s at the fourth floor and thankfully it’s empty. As soon as I get in, I hit the button for the ground floor and keep my head down that way if the lift stops, no one can catch sight of my face. No one gets on and as soon as the door opens, I keep my head down and walk towards the exit and onto the street.
I hold onto the hotel door because the pain in my ribs hits me. I suck in some much-needed oxygen as I wait for the pain to fade, but the clinking of footsteps behind me tells me that it’s time to leave. Looking at the street name I realise that I’m a lot closer to my hotel than I thought. I have about a ten-minute walk ahead of me, it’s going to be painful but manageable. I keep my head down and walk, it must be two or three in the morning as there aren’t many people milling about. Everyone’s usually gone home by half one, I’m grateful that many people aren’t about, less people to bump into. It takes me longer than ten minutes to get to the hotel, my breathing ragged and my face is killing me, I’ve never been in this sort of pain before and I never want to be again. When I get to the hotel, there’s a ruck
us in the lobby, some drunk twat making a scene, it’s good for me as I manage to sneak past everyone and hop into the lift. I finally sigh in relief when the lift goes up to the second floor, I’m almost home.
Opening the door, I make my way into the room and straight for the bed. I fall onto it and sob, these past few weeks have been shit and tonight just topped it off. I can’t believe how bloody stupid I was getting into that car, I should have realised that he was trouble, I have no idea what the hell I was thinking. My sobs quieten to sniffles and I kick my heels off and climb beneath the sheets, curling up with my teddy bear as I do.
I close my eyes and silent tears fall, I’m so sore and tired that it’s not long before I’m fast asleep.
Chapter 3
It’s been two days since that arsehole battered me and I’m still reeling from what happened. I thought I’d look worse judging by the pain I’m in as I’m taking Ibuprofen like they’re Smarties. My eye is still swollen shut but it’s getting better, I’ve been putting ice on it every chance I get, that and the Ibuprofen have been helping the swelling go down. My nose isn’t broken thank God, just bruised. My cheek is the worst, it’s an ugly black and blue bruise. The worst thing is that no amount of makeup will help me look as though I’m not banged up.
Putting on my sunglasses to hide my eye, I walk out of my hotel room, I’ll be leaving here tomorrow and headed south. I worked the street last night and had a few regulars come to me, they’ve found out about Raul and his plans and they're not happy that he’ll be around watching their every move. Not only that, prices will rise. I’ve told them that tonight will be my very last night here and they tipped me really well. The last few days I’ve made five thousand pounds, it’ll help me start over, maybe even get some new clothes. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m leaving or the bruises on my face. I’ve seen the pity in their eyes when they see the bruises, I’ve seen the hesitation they have, as if they want to say something, but they don’t. I’m not that person to them, I’m just someone they have sex with.
The Scars Of Life (The Working Girls Book 4) Page 2