Danny’s Secret Desire

by Carter, Polly

  “Can I help you, Vivienne?” Danny fidgeted uncomfortably, feeling dowdy and dishevelled in the trackpants and well-worn, much-loved black T-shirt she’d been wearing to clean her flat. She had brushed her hair this morning, but doubted it looked like it at the moment, scrunched up on top of her head in its usual place.

  Vivienne didn’t reply, just looked pointedly over Danny’s shoulder.

  “Oh hell,” Danny thought. “She’s expecting me to invite her in.” Glad at least that her flat was tidy even if she doubted the same could be said for herself, Danny stepped aside and graciously waved her visitor in.

  “Would you like to sit down? Can I get you something? Tea, perhaps?”

  Vivienne shook her head, casting a somewhat distasteful glance around and brushing non-existent specks of dirt from her pure silk, cream blouse.

  “I shan’t take up much of your time.” She gently patted her salon-perfect blonde hair.

  “So,” Danny ventured when Vivienne failed to say more. “May I ask what brings you here? How did you even know where I lived?”

  “I have a message from Brandon.” Vivienne’s face twisted in a strange grimace that sent a shudder down Danny’s spine.

  “Oh?” breathed Danny, her face impassive. She was not about to let Vivienne see the icy hand of foreboding which had gripped her. When Brandon had said he’d send her a message, she never dreamed he would ask Vivienne to deliver it in person.

  “Is he still working?” she asked hesitantly. “Will he be finished soon?”

  “May I?” Vivienne gestured at the couch.

  “Oh, of course. Please, sit down.”

  Flicking the couch cushion as though it were covered in something, and dusting the seat, Vivienne perched herself on the edge.

  “You’d probably better sit down too, dear.” She patted the seat beside her, fixing Danny with an exaggerated expression of sympathy and sadness. Danny’s heart stopped.

  Danny remained standing, her chin jutting out. “Just say what you have to say.”

  “Very well.” Vivienne looked down, gently shaking her head, then looked back up at Danny. “Please believe me when I say how much I hate these visits I have to make. I’ve told Brandon I think he behaves appallingly.” She shook her head again and sucked her lip.

  “What visits?” Danny demanded, fear chilling her blood. “What? Tell me!”

  Vivienne let out a long dramatic sigh through pursed lips.

  “I’m sorry I’m the one to have to tell you this, Danny, but you won’t be seeing Brandon again.”

  “What?” Like a blow to her midriff, the words hit Danny hard enough to knock the legs from under her. She collapsed onto the couch.

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded angrily.

  “You spent Saturday night with him?”

  “That’s none of your business!” Danny jumped up again and glared.

  “He had sex with you?”

  “How dare you! I think you’d better leave.” The ice in Danny’s veins had turned to fury.

  Vivienne stood up, reached out and patted her arm, but Danny recoiled as though she’d just been bitten by a large, venomous spider. Vivienne shrugged. Her eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head forward.

  “You did. Don’t deny it. Brandon told me all about it.” She paused. “In detail.” Her top lip curled and peeled back, showing her teeth. A second later her face resumed it’s beautiful, painted, supercilious mask.

  “See this.” She held up a gold ring with a large diamond on her left hand. “Brandon and I are engaged and will soon be married, but,” she waved her hand dismissively, “you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  The hackles on the back of Danny’s neck stood up like soldiers called to arms.

  “Brandon said,” she began hotly, but Vivienne cut her off.

  “What? That it is an engagement of convenience to keep the fans away? Yes, that’s the story we use for our,” she gave Danny a slow and exaggerated wink, “dalliances, shall we say?” She shrugged. “Conquests, if you will.”

  Danny stared, speechless.

  “Bits on the side.” Vivienne’s teeth gleamed as she drew her lips back and enunciated the words slowly and exaggeratedly.

  “I don’t believe you,” Danny clenched her fists tight by her side, her arms rigid. “I think you should leave immediately!”

  “I knew you wouldn’t.” Vivienne cast her eyes down, slowly shook her head and let out a long sigh. Then she raised her head and tilted it to one side, turning the corners of her mouth down like a sad clown.

  “You little girls never do. You all think you’re the special one. You take him so seriously, imagine he means it when he expresses his undying love for you. But have you considered really how likely it is that the already-engaged-to-me Brandon Carlisle, heartthrob, idol, megastar, has fallen in love at first sight with Miss Mousey from nowhere with nothing to offer him?”

  “I trust him,” Danny said slowly in a shaky voice.

  “Do you, dear? Tut tut.” Vivienne shook her head again. “Well, let’s see if I can convince you otherwise. For your own good. You poor little thing. I don’t want you hanging onto some stupid, impossible dream. He has some standard lines he uses to woo and bed girls who take his fancy, so let’s see if he used any of them on you, shall we?”

  Danny rubbed her palms on the legs of her jeans. This was a nightmare. She should just throw this ghastly woman out, but she just had to hear what Vivienne was going to say next. Did she really know what precious things Brandon had said to her in their intimate moments?

  “How about calling you a ‘brave, strong, independent woman’? Girls love that one.” Vivienne’s laugh was like breaking glass. “Yes?” she mocked, seeing Danny blanch, then faked an expression of sympathy. “Aww, and did you fall for it? What’s some others he likes to use… hmm, I know. Did he use the old chestnut, something about him ‘recognising you or you recognising each other’?”

  Danny’s head was throbbing, and the room was spinning. Waves of nausea crashed over her.

  Vivienne now wore the contemptuous gloat of a victor but was not yet finished torturing Danny for her own sadistic pleasure.

  “What are some of his other favourites? How about being ‘wrapped in the arms of a man who will cherish you, protect you, and blah de blah something so you can be all you can be, and he’s the man to do it’?”

  “No!” Danny covered her ears with her hands. She ran to the front door and flung it open. “Get out!”

  Vivienne shrugged, looked down at her long, pointed, dark red fingernails in a pretence of hiding her sneer of satisfaction, slowly adjusted her scarf, smoothed her dress and sauntered to the door.

  Reaching it, she turned back to Danny.

  “Don’t feel too bad, dear,” she said sweetly. “You aren’t the first by a long way. And when he promised to give you your ‘secret desire’,” she paused and shrugged, “what girl can refuse that?”

  “Why? Why do you do it?” Danny whispered. She couldn’t believe anyone could be so cruel, and yet the evidence was right in front of her.

  Another shrug.

  “Why do we do it?” Vivienne asked, flicking one end of her scarf over her shoulder. “Well, Brandon and I get a kick out of playing around, he with other women, me with other men. Who knows?” She licked her lips with all of her tongue and ran her hands over her breasts. “Maybe one day we’ll combine them.”

  Bitter bile rose into Danny’s mouth, but despite the horror, she couldn’t tear herself away. It was as though if enough pain was inflicted, she’d stop hurting.

  “That party weekend seemed perfect for each of us to have an indulgence?” She imbued the word with lewdness. Another shaft of pain shot through Danny. “I think Brandon fancied you as a bit of a challenge. But good for you.” She waggled her head and finger and smiled at Danny. “You made him work for it, didn’t you? The plan was that he would just bed you after the party, as I did a dumb but handsome lad from the village, but y
ou were playing hard to get. Normally, he probably wouldn’t have worried, but–” She winked. Danny felt sick. “I’d had a pretty good time with my stud, and Brandon doesn’t like losing to me, so we agreed he could have another go at you this weekend, and if he pulled it off, I’d come and set you straight today.” She waved her arms to signify that that was how things had gone.

  Her eyes slanted shut. “I’m sure the sex was worth it. He’s exceedingly well trained.” She preened her hair and showed her teeth.

  “I don’t believe you,” Danny whispered through ashen lips.

  “I think you do, dear. But if you want to humiliate yourself and hear it from Brandon personally, by all means give him a call. I usually do his apologies for him because his totties cause less of a scene with me, and he’s such a moral coward after he’s had his fun.” She laughed harshly. “He does it for me sometimes if I think the man is going to take it too hard. It’s our little game, and you know the old saying, ‘the couple that plays together, stays together’.”

  She took a step backwards out the door, but not quite far enough to allow Danny to slam it in her face.

  “Brandon and I are a couple, and we are staying together, and we are getting married.” Her eyes were now no more than slits. “You mean nothing to him. No more than any other of the dozens of dreamy-eyed fangirls he’s seduced.” She opened her eyes wide. “But, think of it this way, you got to spend the night with Brandon Carlisle, the country’s sexiest man. How many women would love to be able to say that? Be grateful. You’ve got a nice memory, but it’s time to stop living a fantasy and move on. Take the stars out of your eyes and find yourself a nice simple boy somewhere. Someone more suitable, more on your level.”

  “Get out.” Danny’s heart was pounding, and her head was spinning. Why didn’t this horrible woman leave?

  “Yes, I’m going, dear. And you just forget him.” She reached out a taloned hand and patted Danny’s arm. “You don’t want to humiliate yourself any further, do you?”

  She finally took a step back and Danny quickly shut the door, falling against it as her legs gave way beneath her. She rubbed her arm where Vivienne had touched her; it felt seared to the bone. Not wanting to wind up a literal crumpled heap on the floor, she staggered to the bedroom and fell across her bed.

  Her mind was whirling. This couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. It couldn’t. Could it? She thought back to the evening of the party. As images flashed into her mind, her heart sank, and hot tears burned her eyes. She had thought she was being so cool, not initially, of course, in the stables, but after she discovered Brandon’s true identity. She had refused to fall all over him like an adoring groupie! Except when he got too close and all her resolutions melted away. Damn!

  The fight between Brandon and Vivienne after she’d caught him and Danny in the kitchen took on new meaning. Vivienne had been angry about ‘the deal’, and Danny knew now what that deal was. She winced as she recalled Vivienne’s next words, “I didn’t know it meant every two-bit tramp.” And no doubt her ‘what choice do I have?’ was before she’d had chance to view the available men at the party and choose her own conquest for the night. Maybe she’d fancied George, but Sara had already snaffled him, Danny thought wryly.

  And then she’d not seen Brandon all evening. True, she had been avoiding him, but if he’d really wanted to find her, it wouldn’t have been that difficult. He’d been with Vivienne each time she’d caught sight of him, and he’d waited until the end of the evening to approach her and William on the dance floor. He’d presumably not wanted to waste too much time on his ‘bit on the side’ for the evening; a quick dance and then off to bed. She now realised she hadn’t actually seen William and Vivienne dancing. She must have gone off with her lover for the night while Brandon set about seducing Danny.

  And he had tried.

  “I’m happy to take that option,” he’d offered baldly when she’d said she wanted to go to bed, but she’d turned him down. He must have determined then to take up the challenge.

  Her face burned with anger and mortification again as she remembered going to meet him at the stables the next morning. No doubt he and Vivienne knew they were leaving early despite his story about his mother, and he was just playing games with her as payback for making him wait. Oh, how he and Vivienne must have laughed at the thought of her waiting in vain for him, her hair in plaits. And then he’d cruelly made her wait another week before coming to her with his phony story about calls and messages going astray. He’d probably just sent them to Vivienne’s phone, she thought with angry dismay.

  Sobs of fury and misery wracked her body as she pictured him deciding he wouldn’t let her off the hook, he would pursue her, possess her. She imagined him formulating his evil plan which she had walked straight into like a mouse unable to resist cheese in a trap.

  He’d turned up and whisked her off after ensuring he would have plenty of time and privacy to make her pay fully for her initial rejection. And he had.

  Danny was filled with self-loathing. When he’d spanked her hard enough to make her cry, he’d pretended it was for disobeying him, but she could see he was just getting her back for not succumbing to his advances straight away, and then he’d compounded his revenge by using her sexually in ways no other man had.

  How could she have been so blind? It was all so clear. Even the next morning, the way he’d pretended he’d had to rush off. She’d been disappointed they couldn’t spend a leisurely Sunday morning together, but he’d got shot of her as quickly as he could, bundling her out of his house, if it even was his house, and dumping her on her doorstep.

  What she had thought was special and beautiful between them, a precious gift they had given each other, was nothing but lies and deception. Devastated and desolate as she was, rage flared within her. Wiping her face, she snatched up her laptop and started typing.

  Her fingers flashed across the keyboard, her mouth set in grim determination and her pain turned to white-hot fury.

  Reading through her finished blog thirty minutes later, Danny knew it was the best thing she’d ever written. With icily laconic precision, she had exposed what she believed to be the shallow conceit that festers in unworthy people put on pedestals of public adoration because they are lucky enough to be born beautiful and the entertainment industry has provided them with a vehicle to showcase themselves.

  This was what she’d long believed, had often vented about, and Brandon Carlisle had proved it: movie stars were overpaid for the contribution they actually made to society, and fame and fortune led them to believe they were superior.

  She knew that but had been seduced into forgetting. She had avowed to Sara that she wasn’t interested in meeting Brandon Carlisle. That she wasn’t impressed by fame. She’d even teased Sara about being a fangirl. And what had happened? Sara had started a promising relationship with the lovely, down-to-earth George, and it was Danny who had completely lost control of herself the minute she’d met Brandon Carlisle.

  Not wanting to be sued for defamation, Danny included a disclaimer that any similarity with any specific person or persons, living or dead, was wholly unintentional. She was also meticulously careful not to include anything which might identify Brandon Carlisle as her inspiration, but she knew he would easily recognise himself were he ever to read it. Not, she thought, that there was much danger of that.

  Having ensured her final piece, “Playing a Prince Doesn’t Make You a King,” was polished to perfection, she uploaded it to her blog and collapsed exhausted on her bed. Within minutes she’d fallen into a heavy painless, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 12

  Three days later, Sara was sitting on the edge of Danny’s bed, holding her hand, the cup of tea she’d made for her going cold on the bedside drawer.

  “You can’t go on like this, Dan,” she said, her brow creased in a worried frown. “You are going to make yourself ill.”

  Danny tried to speak, but her eyes just filled with tears. Sara handed her anoth
er tissue from the box on the bed, and as she took it, Danny squeezed her friend’s hand. Sara had been wonderful and Danny couldn’t imagine how she’d be surviving without her.

  * * *

  When she’d woken on Monday evening, the memory of Vivienne’s visit and Brandon’s callous misuse of her had come thundering back. Feeling like she’d been run over by a herd of elephants, she’d showered, changed and run upstairs to knock on Sara’s door.

  Fortunately, Sara had been alone, and over a bottle of excellent wine from Sara’s lavish cellar, she had poured her heart out. Leaving out the most embarrassing and intimate details, Danny wept bitterly as she told Sara of Brandon Carlisle’s promises and declarations, of his tenderness, of how he’d taken her to meet his mother and how they’d shared the most wonderful night of passion and love-making in his lovely house nearby. And then how her beautiful fantasy had been brought crashing down by the cruel reality of Vivienne’s visit.

  After a few initial, Brandon!, Brandon Carlisle?, You and Brandon Carlisle?, Sara sat open-mouthed and shocked into silence by the revelations.

  “My God, Danny. How did I have absolutely no idea about this?” she’d said at last when Danny had finished the whole sorry tale, shaking her head in bewilderment. “But you know I had a huge fan crush on him, right, and I read heaps and heaps about Brandon Carlisle and I’ve never seen anyone say anything but nice things about him. Different story about that Blakemore woman. She’s got a massive reputation as a viper. But apparently, he’s no better. Who’d have thought they could be that horrid? Ugh. What a dreadful game they’ve been playing. I wonder how many other people have been hurt?”

  “I shudder to think. I wrote a piece for my blog on people like them. No names,” she added quickly seeing Sara’s expression. “Although I would have liked to.”

  “Yes. Would serve them right!”

  “I’m sure they’ll recognise themselves if they read it.” Danny’s mouth was set in a hard line.