Читать книгу Nikki Gemmell’s Threesome: The Bride Stripped Bare, With the Body, I Take You - Nikki Gemmell - Страница 91

opium eaters grow lean and hollow-eyed and yellow-skinned, and always appear to be looking out for something

The lessons must stop. You can see Gabriel, suddenly, hijacking your life.

And you have a strange, new tugging in you for Cole; you weren’t expecting it, you never thought the moribund relationship could be woken up.

You stick out your arm for a cab and feel the vivid bareness between your legs as you stretch your body out. The cab driver asks you where you want to go, he’s young, not very good-looking, a father, perhaps. But he has a beautiful nape. You say, bewildered, barely thinking, I want to have sex, do you want to sleep with me, I need it, please, and he turns and looks at you, he pulls up. You repeat the question. You will never see him again, you will make sure of that. You will dye your hair after this, you will change your look, you will be someone else. You say, I’ll meet you in two hours at…at…and across the street, a little way up, is a Hilton Hotel. At the Hilton, you say. The room will be under Green. And you are floating as conventions and assumptions drop away on all sides and the words slip from you, so easily, so quick, for you’ve rehearsed what to say, what to do, for so long, at night, in your head.

Two of you would be good, you add, I think.

He looks at you, as if he knows exactly where you’re coming from. You turn your head, your fingertips appalled, trembling, at your mouth. He lets you out. You pay with a twenty. You do not take the change. He doesn’t say if he will come.

You know exactly what to do. You ask at a paper shop where the nearest hole in the wall is. You get out cash, a lot. You check in under the name Green, you like the name Green; you give Theo’s address. You hand across your credit card for an imprint, realise suddenly it has your surname on it but the woman doesn’t even check, you’re too respectable-looking for that. You go to the room, you shower, you pour yourself a glass of red wine, and another, and you wait.

There are three of them.

You tell them to do anything.

Your face is still young, still sweet, you can see their surprise: they never expected this. It is what you have always wanted, even as a child on the cusp of adolescence, you’d always dreamt of it, naked, spreadeagled, and a group of men or boys fondling you, curious, growing bolder, getting more excited, moving in. You do the things you’ve always wanted to do, what you devoured in the letters pages of the porn magazines you filched from your uncle when you were fifteen. You are not shy with these men because you are not interested in any connection being made, you’re not interested in talk, in anything that will give you away. You will never see them again. You will not be coming to Gabriel’s flat any more, the lessons must stop, you will not be getting a taxi for a very long time. This will be the end of this chapter in your life. It is all worked out and so you are free, in this hotel room, to do whatever you want.

They are rough, whether they sense that is what you wanted or not you don’t know. It is what you want. They don’t respect you. You are nothing but a vessel, a series of holes to be filled up. Your cunt, ass, mouth, all are used, sometimes simultaneously, all are fucked. You are passive, compliant, it is exactly what you want. To erase Gabriel, to start afresh.

You tell them when you’ve had enough, they’re reluctant, you push them off. Go, please, get out.

You don’t want a shower. You catch the tube home, your head bowed, you are reeling, triumphant, your palms cupped across your mouth and nose. Breathing in deep that afternoon that you will never have again, that you will never forget, while the stiffness in your thighs sets. You are engorged, swollen, and a trickle of cum leaks from you as you shift on the seat, you can feel it, and the rawness between your legs, and on your pubis, from the stubble of the men, it burns, the harsh grate, God knows how long it will last.

You’re home, promptly, by six, you’re never late.

Grubby and aching, and exhilarated and cleansed, refreshed.