Chapter Eleven
After tiptoeing back to Cam’s office, pulling on his joggers, and spending half an hour giving a statement to the police, I was ready to go home. I’d managed to get back there before everyone else came barging in and threw my clothes in the wardrobe, ashamed at myself for being so slutty with Cam earlier and taking them off. I had no idea where I was going with my little striptease. It was most definitely not what I had been intending to do when he dragged me in there. Initially, I had wanted to claw at his face, not his back, but there was just something about him. Something that I couldn’t say no to. I needed to get it under control. I wasn’t ready to feel yet. That wall around my heart wasn’t ready to come down. I doubted very much that Cam was interested in anything more than sex, and I was so afraid that I’d want more. I don’t think my heart could be rebuilt if it were broken again.
I had noticed that as the police were leaving, they told Mr King that they’d be in touch. I sat, twirling faster and faster in the big, leather chair behind Cam’s desk while he showed the nice police officers out. It occurred to me that he’d named his wine bar after himself, the flash bastard. However, it was kind of funny since the club my dad bought into was also called Kings. I let these thoughts wander through my brain as I stared up at the ceiling, while still spinning madly in the chair. It suddenly jolted to a stop, and I was slowly turned around to meet Cam’s brown eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Twirling, you should try it, it’s fun.”
His lips twitched into the slightest of smiles. He pulled me out of the chair, sat himself down in it, and then pulled me into his lap and began to twirl us both around while he held on to me a little too tightly. I lifted my legs up, put my feet on his legs, and curled into him.
“You’re right.”
“I’m female, of course, I’m right.”
He gave out a really big, loud laugh, which for some reason made me smile.
“Oh, Kitten, you do make me laugh.”
“Why? I didn’t say anything funny. I just stated a fact.”
“Is that right?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
He shook his head, but smiled, reached out for the desk, grabbed it, and stopped the chair from spinning. We sat still and silent for a few seconds, blue eyes gazing into brown, he stroked his finger over my cheek, circled it around my chin, and then traced the outline of my lips.
I forgot to breathe.
“You are all bullshit and bravado. Why do you put on such a hard front, Kitten? Spitting and snarling when I don’t think that’s really you at all?”
I bit his finger as it lingered on my lips, probably using a little more force than necessary. He shook his head again.
“Why are you always shaking your head at me?”
He stroked up and down my arm and over the curve of my shoulder. “Am I?”
“Yep.”
“Perhaps, it’s because you frustrate me.”
“You barely know me. How could I frustrate you?” I didn’t know if I felt hurt that he thought that or happy that I had at least some kind of effect on him.
Do I want to have some kind of effect on him?
God, I didn’t know.
I didn’t know anything where he was concerned. My life might have been a mess, but it was a mess I had control over, and that was how I wanted it to stay. I didn’t want my emotions roller-coastering all over the place. In fact, I didn’t think I was ready for emotions of any kind in my life at that moment. I had survived the last few years without them, and I think that I’d manage without them for the next few.
“You frustrate me because you so obviously put on a front. I wish you would just be yourself, at least for me.”
“Why? Why does it matter who, or what, I am around you?”
He twirled my hair around his fingers. It was such a simple thing, but for me, it was so intimate. Yes, I’ve had sex with men, ten of them in fact, over the last six months, and some would say that was the ultimate act of intimacy, but not for me. For me, it was a cold and an unfeeling act of power and control. I rarely let them kiss me, I gave them the best sex they’d ever had, but it was just that. They got no part of me whatsoever. I didn’t hold hands with them unless they took mine and left me with no choice. I didn’t stroke or lick or suck. I just fucked, but I did it so well that they couldn’t get enough, and I did it all so I could hear them say those three little words and then have the pleasure of walking away. But this, him playing with my hair, was so much more intimate to me than anything else I’d experienced of late. It was the most intimate thing I’d done with any man since Sean.
“Because I like you, Kitten. I like you a lot, and I want to get to know you. The real you, not the spitting, clawing alley cat you seem to want people to think you are. The first thing I want to know is what made you like this? Who did this to you? What did they do… hmm?” He raised his eyebrows at me like he was actually waiting for an answer.
Well, fuck that! I was not spilling my guts to him so that I get that pitying look I’d gotten from everyone else over the past few years. “I need to go home. I’ll get my dad to arrange for my car to be towed tomorrow.” I moved to slide off his lap.
“Don’t go! Don’t run away, Georgia. Stay and talk to me.” He held me on his lap with his hands holding my hips and his eyes looking right into mine… through me… into me. I had to leave. I couldn’t let him see the real me. I just couldn’t. I wasn’t ready. I might never be ready.
“I need to go, Cam. Please let me go.” He shook his bloody head at me again. “You’re shaking your head.”
“Coz you’re frustrating the fuck out of me. Would you have had sex with me earlier before little limp dick went all mental and started smashing things up? If we hadn’t been interrupted, would you have let me fuck you?”
My cheeks burned with embarrassment at the thought of my earlier behaviour. I shook my head very slightly. “No, Cam, you wouldn’t have fucked me, but I might have fucked you.”
He let out a deep breath—almost a hiss—through his teeth. “Get your stuff, I’ll take you home and don’t worry about your car. I’ve got someone coming for it now. I’ll get it fixed up for you.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s my own fault. I behaved poorly, and I got what I deserved.”
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But do you want to be the one to tell your dad what happened and why? Do you want your dad’s blokes out looking for little dick? Seems to me the poor bloke’s got enough problems without Frank Layton putting a price on his tiny balls.”
I actually laughed aloud at the thought of Lee and his little cock and balls being chased by my dad.
Shit, he’s right!
The less my dad knew about the damage to my car the better. I chewed on the inside of my lip.
“Okay, but I want a receipt for the work. I want to pay the bill and make sure you tell them to be gentle with her, she’s getting on and needs to be handled with love.”
He frowns. “Who?”
“Hilda.”
“Fuck! Right, yeah, of course, Hilda the Triumph Herald. How could I forget?” He smiled as he spoke. He looked so young when he smiled, and again I wondered how old he actually was. I’m guessing twenty-nine or thirty.
“How old are you, Cam?”
“Old as my tongue and a bit older than my teeth,” he said with a shrug as he looked away from me.
“My Nan always used to say that, and she was like eighty or something when she died. Are you as old as her?”
“Fuck off, let’s get you home.”
Cam dropped me off at my flat, and we came to an arrangement whereby he would sort out the cost of the damage to my car, as long as I agreed to go out to dinner with him Saturday night. I agreed. Of course, I agreed. There was just something about him that I couldn’t say no to, and try as I might, I didn’t seem to be able to fight it.
It terrified me.
* * *
Saturday morning I had a f
itting for my bridesmaid’s dress for Jimmie’s wedding. She had three of us as bridesmaids, and her older sister, Keeley, as the maid of honour. Jim, being the funky little soul she was, had chosen fantastic, fifties style, retro dresses for us. They were simple in a soft-peach colour, with a strapless bodice, a wide, ivory sash to match the colour of Jim’s dress, and a full, knee-length skirt, which had lots of petticoats underneath to give the desired shape. Jimmie’s dress was the same style, but where ours were strapless, hers had lace over the bodice, with three quarter lace sleeves, and a massive bow at the back of the sash around her waist. We all had short, little veils for our heads. Jim’s was longer and covered her face. The whole look was so her, and I just loved it.
I got the usual telling off from the dressmakers, Claude and Sally. I had to have my dress taken in every time we had been back for fittings. Then my mother joined in the charge and started going on about how I spent too much time at the gym, at work, or out clubbing, and that I never ate. She also went on to add that I’d never find a husband in a noisy, sweaty club.
“Actually, I have a date tonight, and he’s taking me out for dinner,” I stated loudly from where I was standing on the podium so Claude could dart the back of my dress where he wanted it taken in.
A pin scraped my skin, only just not piercing it.
“Oww!” I complained, looking over my shoulder at him. We used Claude and Sally for most alteration jobs, and we referred lots of customers who required bespoke tailoring to them. In return, they were providing free services as a thank you to my mum.
Claude looked up at me and rolled his eyes in an “I barely touched you” expression.
“Is there blood?” I asked.
“Oh, do stop being such a drama queen, Georgia. If you didn’t shock me with that last comment, then I might not have moved the pin so close. I take it you’re being serious. You really do have a date tonight, with a real man? Don’t go getting your mother’s hopes up if you’re just trying to placate her.”
My family had no idea about the depraved life I’d been living these past six months. They had absolutely no idea I’d been leading men around by their dicks just for the pure pleasure of dumping them as soon as they mentioned the L word. As far as they were aware, I’d been a single, party girl, living it up every weekend, which was also partly true, so it was the story that I went with.
“Would I lie to you, Claude, or my mother, for that matter?”
He stood with his hands on his hips, with his eyebrows raised and his lips pouted. Claude was the gayest, straight man I’d ever met and the most amazing tailor, seamstress, maker of things, or whatever his title was, that I’d ever had the pleasure of doing business with.
“Probably, yes,” he said through a mouthful of pins.
I nodded. “Yeah, you’re right, but on this occasion, I am telling you the truth.”
“Who’s the date with? Anyone we know?” Jimmie called from where she was being fitted over on the other podium. I looked across and smiled at her.
Dare I tell her in front of my mum?
God, I was never going to hear the end of this.
My mum would want to meet him and have him round for Sunday lunch. She was busy faffing around with Jimmie’s sister’s dress, with Sally, so I took a chance.
“Mr TDH,” I cringed at Jim as I said it. She and Ash had given me shit for months about him, and I told them all along that I wasn’t interested. Now, here I was going on a date out for dinner with him.
Jimmie’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious. Why does everyone assume I’m lying today? Is it such a ridiculous concept that someone might actually want to take me out on a date?”
“No,” my mother piped up. “The ridiculous concept is that you might actually say yes, and want to go out on a date with someone. And who’s Mr TDH?” Trust my mother not to miss a trick.
“Oh, Bern, you should see him, he’s absolutely gorgeous, and he’s been after George for months. What made you finally say yes, G?”
I shrugged.
Shit, what was I going to tell them?
“Umm, he spent two grand in the shop, it’s the least I could do.”
“The very least,” my mother said. “Well, who is he? What do you know about him?”
I shot Jim a look. I didn’t want my mum knowing anything, yet.
“He’s just a bloke we met at the wine bar. He bought me a drink. Then he came in the shop one night after I had sent Ashley home sick, and I helped him with some stuff for his sister’s twenty-first. I hadn’t seen him in ages, but I bumped into him Thursday night, and he asked me out to dinner tonight.” I paused and looked around the now silent room, all eyes were on me as if I were telling them something interesting. “Is that all okay? Enough facts to keep you all happy?” I asked sarcastically.
Claude clapped. “Can’t wait for the next fitting so you can tell me all about it. Just don’t go falling in love and not eating. I don’t want to be making any more alterations to this dress. You’re far too skinny right now, Miss Layton.”
* * *
I couldn’t believe how nervous I was when I was getting ready Saturday evening. I had my hair washed and dried at the salon next door to the shop this afternoon, so I had a bath rather than a shower when I’d gotten home. There were fresh clean sheets on my bed, and I had lit a few candles about the place. I wasn’t sure what would eventuate that night, because I knew full well that whatever I decided now if he tried to, Cam would have me changing my mind and doing his bidding anyway.
I changed my outfit three times before settling on a seventies minidress. It was A-line, in a gorgeous, blue colour and bell-bottomed sleeves. I’d bought it at Kensington Market along with a pair of white sling back shoes, and the two went perfectly together. I smoked a cigarette while I waited for Cam. I wasn’t much of a smoker, but I was nervous. I’d had a couple of glasses of wine while I was getting ready, which had calmed me down some, but the cigarette also helped.
My doorbell buzzed. I stood up from the arm of the chair where I’d been sitting and counted to ten. I didn’t want to appear too keen if I could help it. I looked through the spy hole my dad had insisted I have installed, but all I could see was his back. I then proceeded to undo the three different bolts my dad had also insisted on and swung the door open.
He had turned around so he was facing me, and was now leaning on the doorframe, filling my doorway, looking big, gorgeous, and so fucking handsome. Wearing, just a pair of plain black trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. I could see the hint of a gold necklace at his throat, buried amongst a few dark hairs. Instinctively, my hand rose to my own throat, and I touched the necklace that hung there—the one that had laid against my skin for the better part of six years.
Sean, no, please don’t do this to me, not right now!Let me have one night. Just one.
Sean!
Sean!
Sean!
My brain screamed at me, they’re all just like Sean, Georgia. All of them.
Fuck off!
Fuck off!
Fuck off!
I had to shake my head to clear the conversation that was going on inside it. Cam stood in my doorway in complete silence, just watching me.
“Hey,” I eventually managed to say.
“All right” he replied, sounding like a right cockney geezer. He had the strangest way of talking. I’d been thinking about that last night while trying not to think about him. He had a strong East London accent, and he dropped his H’s, but he used words most blokes from our neck of the woods didn’t. It made me wonder if he’d received a private education and if he’d attended a “posh” school, despite coming from where he did. Not that it mattered. Coming from a working-class family entitled you to a private education as much as the next person, but not many could afford it. It made me curious about his background.
“You look stunning,” he smiled slightly as he said it.
&nbs
p; “Thank you, you look well fuckin’ horny yourself.”
“Kitten, really? You’re all dressed up like a lady and talk like a brass.”
“And how would you know what a brass talks like, Cam?”
He’d pissed me off now. I hadn’t meant to swear, it just came out. I grew up with three older brothers, so they were just words to me. I managed to keep it under control at work, but only just. Well, most of the time anyway, but out of work, they just slipped out, and I was only trying to pay him a compliment.
“Because I’ve had to ask them to leave my establishments on more than one occasion. I don’t mind them coming in for a drink, but I won’t have them turning tricks in my gaffs, and they tend to get a bit lippy when asked to leave.”
“And I sound like one of them?”
He sighed and shook that gorgeous head of his. “No, Georgia, you don’t. I don’t know why I said that. It’s just that you look like such a lady, and then you open your mouth and… ” he trailed off.
“Well, this is a great start. You’ve been here only two minutes, and already you’re shaking your head and bollocking me for swearing.” I folded my arms across my chest and tapped my foot, as I looked him up and down.
“D’ya wanna leave it, and go find a posh bird to take out?”
“No, I don’t. Anyway, posh birds swear too you know… come here.”
I shook my head. “You want me then you’d best come here, Tiger.”
“See, so fuckin’ frustrating. No wonder I shake my head. Do you ever do as you’re told?”
“Nope.” I shrugged, raised my eyebrows, and gave him my best “what?” look.
He gave a big sigh and looked as though he were about to shake his head again, thought about it for a split second and then stalked towards me. He reminded me of a wolf, his eyes narrowed as his big frame got nearer. He stood as close as he could without touching me. I deliberately kept my eyes straight ahead, staring at his chest and breathing in his scent, which just did unexplainable things to me. He used his middle and index fingers to lift my chin, bringing my eyes level with his soft, brown ones. I didn’t want to return his gaze, but I couldn’t resist.
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