Читать книгу In The Night Time - Elouise Edron - Страница 7

CHAPTER FIVE

THE MORNING AFTER

My alarm abruptly sounded at 4:30am. Enough time to get up in time for a 5:15 class at the gym. I rolled onto my chest staring at the illuminated numbers in front of me, wondering if last night had really happened.

Fired. From a bar job. My life was over.

How the hell could I have a career one day if I couldn’t even keep a serving job? The walls around me were caving in, thoughts swirling out of control as my anxiety rose. I needed to get up and moving, to see if I was fast enough catch them.

***

I got straight into ‘the zone’, beats blaring, and the instructor’s ripped chest bulging out of his tank. It was one of my weekly high points. My eyes focused on his muscular arms as I recalled the rough intruder fantasy scene, the one where I was close to cumming before being rudely interrupted. I certainly had some built-up sexual tension I needed to release, and it was getting incredibly frustrating not having an outlet. My mind diverted as I imagined Carlos pulling me aside, telling me how he couldn’t take his eyes off me during class, before taking my hand and pulling me into him. His dark eyes looking into my soul as he leaned forward to gently caress my face, bringing it towards his, until our lips met. Soft and sensual, at first.

Then he would kiss me harder, longer, deeper, biting into my lip with a gentle pull. He would tug the hair at the back of my head, as he kissed my face, neck and into my cleavage, ripping at my low-cut sports bra to reveal my breast. I imagined him being hard in his shorts, feeling him against me as I feigned resistance, and then taking my hands to his torso, running my fingers along his sweat covered abs.

As he started getting us to move around the room lifting weights, I could see his muscles tense and ease, and sweat begin to gather around his collarbone, moistening his tank.

My mind reverted to our tryst, the place I truly wanted to be. I imagined him ripping off his shirt like they do in the porno’s, revealing the body of Adonis. Rugged, ripped, right up my alley. He smiled at me with seduction, watching me and waiting for his moment. Waiting until he had my full attention to embrace me with all his strength; pulling off my top, tearing down my pants, until I stood there naked in front of him, in the darkness of the room we were in right now.

His powerful voice lifted and directed the class, as I had envisioned, he would do to me. I became so fixated on his body, that I missed a cue and tripped myself to the floor. The class suddenly halted, turning to a very red-faced me.

"I'm okay, just a little tipsy still," I said confidently, gesturing with a drink to my mouth though feeling like a right idiot. I barely even drank, let alone got drunk enough for it to last through to the next day.

I'm not okay. I'm ruined.

I got back up, brushed myself off and with attention refocused, got back to my sweat game.

Carlos smiled at me like we shared a secret, and my mind deflected from the people around us to reimagine the space with no-one around.

Just him and I, naked.

He slowly removed his shorts to reveal his growing girth. He moved towards me, hot and hard, ready to take me in his burly arms. He led his hand down my body, towards the aching lust I held between my legs. He knew how to touch me, how to move at just the right angle, how to prepare me for his throbbing shaft and pave the way for the moment of anticipation. He knew how to bring me to a climax so mighty; it would lead me to so much sexual fulfillment I wouldn’t even know what to do with it.

In that moment, I let nothing else enter my mind besides how much I would love the instructor to give me a private session in my bedroom and wondered if that was a service that he might also offer. Sex was on my mind, and for some reason, I just couldn’t remove the annoyance of its distraction.

By the time the class finished, I was dripping wet in more ways than one. The walk home wasn't far, but it felt like my tail was trailing between my legs and each step seemed to be heavier than the last. I'd re-run the night through my head and wished I had kept my cool, or more importantly - my job.

Why did I let him get under my skin? Why didn’t I listen to my boss and just be ‘nice’ and do my job? And why the hell was DeGrain being so goddamn nice?

It was 6:45am by the time I got home and showered. With time on my side, I grabbed Paul's card out of my purse. Sitting on the side of my bed, I looked at it over and again as if it were going to speak to me. I was caught between finding a new job on my own and forcing myself to let a stranger help me get ahead. I took a deep breath, dialled the digits into my phone, and pressed call.

"Hello, Paul speaking."

I wasn’t expecting him to answer at this time of day and stammered. "Uh, Paul? It's..."

"Bianca, I know it’s you. You're up early."

I heard a smile in his voice, animated by the fact I had left no time to take him up on his offer of a chat.

"Thought last night was a big party?" I replied, trying to keep the conversation cool.

"Nah, not for me. I always wait to slip out once everyone is drunk enough not to notice. I left just after you.”

Silence settled between us, and I felt that familiar tension building despite being physically distanced.

“I guess you're calling about the proposition?" he asked, waiting for my response.

"The job, yes. For your friend? The PA role you mentioned?” I made it very clear what I was calling about and hated that I was having to ask for his help. It was challenging to know I couldn’t do it all on my own, but something inside told me I could trust him. “Don't get your hopes up about anything else…”

“I thought we had put that idea to bed last night actually Bianca?” Obviously, he was trying to get a rise out of me.

I liked the sound of his voice in the morning, it was deep and husky. I imagined him lying in bed with his shirt off, probably with some half naked bimbo bringing him coffee and breakfast. What does he look like naked? What does his bedroom look like? What would it be like to sleep with a man who surely knew how to please a woman?

All the guys I’d been with didn’t seem to know what they were doing, let alone care about my pleasure. I had tried experimenting with my ex, but we couldn’t seem to find the groove of common pleasure, it was mostly just… awkward.

A sudden burst of lust raged over me as thoughts continued in my mind. I excitedly grew wet in my near nakedness thinking about the wonders of Paul’s work. Trying to keep my cool on the line, my free hand shifted below my towel and started slowly playing with my clit, rubbing it in little circles.

"I want to make it clear that I'm going to be strictly professional from here on, Bianca,” he said with unprecedented authority. I was taken aback and stiffened my posture, both hands in sight. His boyish jesting was a thing of the past. “My friend Jeff is looking for help and I know that uni students often have a lot of underutilized skills.”

I tried not to giggle thinking about what a line this would be for recruiting new players in his field.

“It’d mean a few nights, and maybe some weekend work or time away - would that work? The pay is about $1200 a week, give or take, depending on the hours required and, well, then there’s commission."

Holy crap. That was more than I had ever earned in a full-time role, let alone part-time. My eyes lit up with dollar signs, imagining how much easier life would be no longer having to stress about cash. I could save for a car. I could have time for self-care. I could finally buy the things I needed and start paying off my mounting loan. While I was sure that DeGrain understood what this new position would mean to me at a material level, he would never understand what it would mean for my confidence, my future ambitions and even, the relationship I held with Dad. That he would see me making it on my own again and know that the last thing I needed from his was money. That in itself, was a good enough reason to jump at the opportunity as I could envisage the relationship between us slowly starting to rebuild.

"That's generous for a PA!” I couldn’t contain my excitement, and the words just fell from my mouth. “Wait, what aren’t you telling me?” my suspicion aroused. “I’m not going to suck his balls, cook him meals or offer any other kind of ‘special favours’ if that’s what you were meaning in regards to commission.”

I was obviously eager, but also unnerved by the lack of clarity I was yet to receive around the role itself. The money was enticing and while facing poverty was something I aimed to avoid, my morals were not to be messed with.

"Bianca... I'm being serious, I expect you to act professionally too." He had a sense of softness in his voice, as if trying to urge me on track.

"Sorry, it's just hard to take you seriously knowing what you do. Given the opening, I can’t really imagine how this would be a role for nice girl like me." I giggled under my breath, giddy at the thought of me working on a porn set as I had assumed.

"Well, if I were your boss, I can assure you, I’d find it hard to be less flirtatious with you,” he said, breaking his newly established professionalism. “Either way, I think it’s best we both aim for our best behaviour when in each other’s company. Especially when you meet Jeff."

Had he just admitted to flirting with me? Ha! What a joke. If anything, he surely just felt irked by the fact that I wasn’t giving him the kind of attention he was used to. He was beginning to realise I wasn't into his glamorous lifestyle or the underbelly role he played, and that I was just a girl trying to find my way in the world after so many letdowns. Before my father left, he was rarely ever there anyways. If it wasn’t work that called him to corners of the globe, it was sordid affairs that left their partially hidden trails within our home. The late-night phone calls, the scent of another woman’s perfume, the hushed voicemails, and the lock on his office door; all the tell-tale signs of things he wished to be hidden yet weren’t hard to uncover. One night in particular, I remember overhearing a conversation with someone whom he just ‘couldn’t wait to see naked again’. A conversation that changed the way I would look at men forever. It was that moment, that made me realise not even marriage is a sanctity of safety. Back in those days, I used to fancy myself quite the detective and had spent most of my teens wanting to become a private investigator. It was my mother’s illness however, that convinced me it was better to help those who truly sought change, than uncover truths that caused hurt. Her passing was what made me go back to school after years in the corporate game, and getting my degree was something I knew would make her proud from beyond the grave.

"Didn't think I’d be your type, Paul; I've got brains and I'm unquestionably independent," I said, reiterating the point I had tried to get across the night before.

"Unquestionably indeed. And your brains are exactly the appeal. Along with those piercing eyes, long legs and tight little body of yours. If you were mine, I wouldn't let you out of the bedroom."

My cheeks flushed as I let out a winded cough, before pursing my lips to suffocate a giggle. My hand securely gliding back over my mound. My panties grew wetter at the thought of ‘belonging’ to someone that had such a hold on the sex industry, and just being there, at his beck and call. I was definitely not the type of girl that could ever be ‘owned’, but I did enjoy the idea of it.

"Paul," I said sternly.

"Bianca," he replied, as if assuring me he would get back on track. “I shouldn’t have said that. Last comment I swear. I’ll be more professional with you from here on out.”

"You were saying?"

"He owns a brothel…”

"Wait, hold on, did you just say a brothel? Like it ain’t a big deal? I said no to porn, and you somehow assume that I’d rather sell my body for any guy with a bit of a cash and a boner? I thought this was a serious job, as part of our serious discussion. Thanks, but definitely – no thanks."

Suddenly regretting the phone call, a million thoughts raced through my mind. Here I was thinking he could actually be a nice guy offering me a break, but if he thought my standards were low enough to succumb to being paid for sex, he had another thing coming.

“Christ no! I want you to be a Madam. He needs a woman who’s strong, intelligent, organised and quick witted enough to co-manage. Plus, you'd be dealing with a lot of arrogant men, like me, and would sometimes need to put them in their place. Does that sound like you?”

I stayed silent, waiting for more information and less compliments. Although, it did feel good to know that he thought so highly of me.

“You'd be taking phone calls, making schedules, taking money, doing laundry... you know, ‘sex work’ things." He replied as if I was overtly familiar with the load.

"Oh, well, that’s ok then!” I proclaimed with infamy. “Just ‘sex work things’ and creating happy endings for men all about town so they can cheat on their wives and not get caught. Sounds perfect. I’m glad I can put my brains to good use!” I instantly thought back to my childhood as the rift between my parents grew, and my father’s cheating became more obvious. While I was slightly relieved that he indeed had a role where I could use my skills to plan, organise and tell men what to do, I couldn’t fathom the guilt at being a pawn in the process of others infidelity. I thought about it for a moment before I hesitantly replied. “I’m sorry Paul, but I don’t think I can do it. What would I tell everyone? How could I live with myself?”

I was confused by the rush of power and excitement that surged within me as I thought of leading a ‘double life’, yet the anxiety that rose with the reality, was something I needn’t neglect.

"Nothing... You can make up a story about being a PA, pick a company no-one’s heard of, and I guarantee you, no one is going to care. Tell them you answer phones, manage schedules or whatever. At least you wouldn’t be lying. The only reason I told you it was a PA role last night, was because I wanted you to call me.”

He paused, trying to hold back his delight, knowing that he might’ve had me hooked.

“Bianca, let your pride subside, and just say yes. You can make an informed decision after you’ve met him and seen the place. I’ve got a tonne of other girls that would be chomping at the bit for a role like this to get through uni, so if you don’t want it…"

I buried my face into my hands and held my breath as I teetered on the edge of making what could be the most foolish decision of my life, worrying it’d come back to haunt me. My head was saying no, but the intrigue and excitement in my gut was pleading yes.

"Sure," I said coyly, surprised at how easy my answer leaked from my lips.

"Fantastic, I'll call you back and confirm a time and place." He sounded pleased with himself, instantly making me feel like I had made the right decision. I was grateful for the interest he was taking when he could’ve easily walked away. For once, it felt nice that there was a man in my life who wasn’t going to give up when things got hard. Sure, it wasn’t my ‘dream role’ on offer, but it would be a great opportunity to become financially free.

"Will you be there too?" I asked shyly at the realisation that he may have cared for me more than he let on. Suddenly, Paul seemed like a good ally to have, and perhaps as time went on, maybe even a good friend. I was beginning to trust him and asking for his help was my way of making sure he knew it.

"Yes, I can hold your hand if you want." He chuckled quietly, knowing the walls around me were coming down.

“I don’t need my hand to be held,” I outed, trying to conceal the tenderness of my nerves and the growing attachment I was beginning to feel. “I just thought he was a good friend of yours was all.” I brushed off his comment to reposition myself and assert my independence. I’d relied on men a few times before, and so far, it hadn’t had the best outcome in the long run.

"He is, and I'll be there," Paul replied with a much more serious tone in his voice to match my own.

"Good," I said, finalising our conversation.

"Good," he confirmed, allowing us both to pause momentarily and realise the situation we were both about to enter. A friendship crafted from very different sides of the track.

"I’ve got to go do uni things." I scrambled for an excuse to hang up, even though I wanted to stay on the line with him as long as I could.

"Goodbye, Bianca."

I hung up.

What the fuck was I doing? A brothel? Mum would’ve sent me to Catholic boarding school if she knew this is how my life was going to turn out. She was probably turning in her grave right now.