Dear Neighbor

by River Laurent

  C u Soon

  I don’t know where he was when he texted me, but I have only enough time to leap out of bed and get dressed before the door opens and he is standing there, scruff on his face and some kind of dangerous in his eyes. Bad ass sexy, is what he is.

  ‘Hey,’ I whisper.

  He doesn’t speak, just walks up to me and molds his body to mine. ‘God, I missed your body,’ he whispers hoarsely. Our eyes lock, his eat me up. He bends his head and inhales the smell of my hair.

  Thank God I washed it this evening.

  ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘I’m taking you to a party.’

  ‘What?’ I blurt out. ‘I’m not dressed for a party.’

  ‘We’ll dress at my place,’ he says.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He lays his fingers on my lips. ‘Shhh … just trust me.’

  Suddenly, the night seems to hold the most exciting adventure.

  ‘Okay,’ I whisper, and we tip-toe out of his father’s house.

  Outside the front door, he stops to light a cigarette and puts it between his lips.

  ‘No security again?’ I say.

  ‘Nope, but they’ll be around later.’ He lights up, inhales deeply and we walk down the street to where his car is parked. He flicks away the cigarette and we get in.

  It is a strange feeling driving through the mostly empty streets of London, the top down, the wind in my hair. I turn to look at Cash and I cannot help the sensation that my heart will break with all the love I feel for him. He turns towards me and smiles crookedly.

  His apartment is in Park Lane, on the top floor of an old building. We take the lift and Cash puts his key in the door. His apartment is like his house. All glass and modern. The living room is a vast empty area. The walls are lined with couches. Perfect for a party. There is a large modern painting on one wall.

  ‘Where’s the party?’ I ask.

  ‘In easily the most unique club in London. It’s called The Box.’ He adds, ‘No mobile phones or cameras allowed so everything that happens in The Box stays in The Box.’

  He opens a door to a room where there is a bed with a whole load of shoe boxes on it, and a clothes rail on wheels.

  ‘Go on. Find something there to wear. The dress code is glam/posh.’

  ‘How did you know my size?’

  ‘You left your dress behind at my house. I gave it to my PA, Alison. What you see there is her best effort.’

  I stare at him. He went to a lot of trouble ‘Thank you,’ I murmur.

  ‘I’ll be next door getting my gear on.’

  He shuts the door and I rifle through the clothes. O la la! Each one is quite simply to-die-for stunning. I have never owned anything so expensive or so fine in all my life. It’s really hard to choose, but eventually I settle for a gorgeous black and gold dress.

  The label says Orchidees Noires and it is very Great Gatsbyish. The bodice is made entirely of burnished gold flowers, with shimmering gold thread holding the flowers together. It is sleeveless with a deep neckline. There are no flowers at the waist, then they start again on the short billowing tulle skirt. At hip level the flowers stop and the rest of the skirt is pure black tulle.

  I take off my jeans and notice that my legs are full of tiny gold hair. Hmmm … I stand in front of the mirror undecided. It’ll be a bit embarrassing to get a shaver off Cash, but what the hell? I’m not going to spoil such a magnificent dress with unshaven legs.

  Tori

  I leave the room I am in and go past the living room to the next bedroom. The door is open and I walk in. The room is empty, but it must be Cash’s bedroom because there are clothes laid out on the bed. I go towards the en-suite bathroom and stand at the doorway.

  Cash has had his shower, his hair is wet and he is standing in front of the mirror with only a smallish towel around his hips. His face is full of shaving cream and there is only one strip that he has carved through the cream.

  He freezes and we stare at each other in the mirror. It could have been really awkward me asking to borrow his shaver, so I smile and say, ‘Let me do that for you.’

  I walk up to him and slide between him and the basin. There is a small smile tugging at his mouth. ‘I wasn’t planning on donating blood tonight,’ he says.

  I take the razor from his unresisting hand. Very slowly I drag the razor down his cheek through the white foam.

  His eyes never leave me.

  ‘Sometimes it’s a good idea to let someone else do the work,’ I whisper, as I dip the razor head in the sink filled with warm water and shake it to dislodge the cream and bits of hair. I run the razor down his face carefully, meticulously until every last hair is gone. Then I whip the towel from his hips, an act which makes his eyes widen, and use it to gently dab at his face.

  ‘See,’ I say softly, looking at his erect glory. ‘I was never after blood.’

  His eyes are infused with lust. I feel wetness pool between my legs. He curls his large hands around my butt and lifts me up to the rim of the sink. He rips my panties off my body and opens my legs. Holding onto the thick knots of strong muscles in his shoulders, I bring my spread knees up almost to my shoulders.

  He looks down between my legs, his eyes hot and hungry, and draws his fingers along my crack, already slick with juice.

  I whimper.

  He inserts a long finger into me.

  ‘Oh,’ I cry.

  Laughing softly, he grabs my hips and thrusts so far into me my eyes widen and my mouth opens to a shocked O.

  With his eyes blazing into mine he fucks me hard. The meaty sound of our flesh slapping, the sink creaking, and our grunts hit the marble tiles and echo around us. He pounds me relentlessly until I feel as if an enormous engine is being switched on inside me and its blades are starting to turn. Faster and faster they go until I am practically vibrating with the intensity of the coming climax.

  ‘I’m coming,’ I cry as the machine starts throwing out sparks. Trembling, twisting and jerking, I fall into the same fantastic void he plunges into.

  Against my ear, he laughs, a lovely deep rumble. ‘That was the best shave I ever had.’

  He pulls out and his seed trickles out of me. He leans forward and bites my lower lip.

  I lean back and look into his eyes. They are heavy-lidded and dark with sensuality, and I feel suddenly sad. This should be my man. I already know that I’ll never get over him.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks.

  I shake my head. ‘Nothing,’ I whisper. Twisting my body around, I pick up the razor from the ledge where I left it. ‘I was actually after this,’ I say.

  ‘Nicely done,’ he says.

  His laughter warm and rich, follows me until I close the door of my room. Without wasting any time, I go directly into the en-suite bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub I shave my legs. Then I go back into the bedroom and get into the beautiful gold and black dress. It fits like a dream.

  I stand in front of the mirror and gape at myself. Wow! Incredible. I almost cannot believe what I look like. Who’d believe that I could look like a movie star on a red carpet?

  I run to the shoe boxes and open them all. I could have gone with a gold pair or even with the inferno booties that I have seen in a magazine, but I fall in love with a fabulous pair carrying a label I have never heard of. Sophia Webster.

  They have heels made out of shiny poppy-colored balls, and are the closest shoes can get to a true confection. They wouldn’t have looked out of place in one of those old fashioned sweet shops. I secure the gold strap around my ankles and feel like a million dollars.

  Quickly I open the other boxes. I find new cosmetics in one and in another I find hair accessories. I apply some smokey make-up to my eyes, a touch of blusher to the apples of my cheeks, and a slick of nude lip gloss. Then I put my hair up with some of the gold pins I find in the accessories box. I pull out a few loose tendrils to frame my face and neck. Then I walk over to the mirror and look at my reflection. The woman in the mirror
doesn’t even look like me.

  I take out my mobile and snap a couple of photos of myself to show Mom and Leah. There is a small black purse amongst the accessories. I drop the lip gloss, my credit card and my mobile into it and snap it shut. Picking up the black wrap that goes with the dress, I leave the room.

  Cash is already in the living room. He’s wearing a cream dinner jacket with shawl lapels, a white dress shirt, a black silk bowtie, and slim cut black trousers. Everything is perfectly cut and gives him a rakish, devil-may-care appearance. At the sound of my arrival he turns, the bottle of beer on its way to his mouth stays suspended in the air. He doesn’t smile. Just stares at me as if even he can’t believe his eyes.

  I feel myself start to flush.

  He puts the beer bottle down on a counter and walks towards me. ‘Christ,’ he whispers.

  I can see myself reflected in his eyes, an odd shaped pixie. I touch my hair self-consciously. ‘Am I overdressed or something?’

  He smiles. A strange smile. ‘You’re not overdressed. You, Tori Diamond, are heartbreakingly beautiful.’

  Time stands still. The world stops spinning. I even stop breathing. Cash Hunter thinks I’m heartbreakingly beautiful. Then I reach out a hand and pretend to straighten his already straight bowtie.

  He holds out his elbow. ‘Shall we?’

  I slip my hand through it.

  ‘I can’t get over your transformation, Wildcat,’ he murmurs, his eyes raking me from head to foot.

  A stretch Mercedes with blacked out windows is waiting for us outside. As soon as we appear at the doorway, Cash’s security men — four enormous military types with sharp cold eyes — nod at him and snap into action. They rush towards the Mercedes and hold open the passenger doors. Cash settles me into the car, then goes around to the other side. As he slides in beside me, two black SUVs screech to a stop in front and at the back of the Mercedes.

  I watch the burly men quickly pile into the two SUVs. They give the all clear signal and the Mercedes starts moving. We travel sandwiched between the two SUVs.

  It is not a long journey to Brewer Street, right in the heart of Soho.

  Tori

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=60ItHLz5WEA

  If not for the long queue of people waiting to go in and the remarkably large bouncers gathered outside the wooden doors, I would never have imagined that those bland doors are the entrance to London’s ultimate in naughty burlesque and fantasy cabaret. A place that is supposed to give one of the strangest nightclub experiences in all of London’s night life.

  Even before the Mercedes comes to a halt, Cash’s security detail jump out of their vehicles and head quickly towards our car. All eyes immediately turn curiously in our direction with the knowledge that a celebrity is about to emerge from it.

  Both Cash’s door and mine get opened at the same time. I take a deep breath and slide out nervously. So many eyes are on me. Then Cash steps out on the other side and instantly there are shouts, whistles and wild screams. People start calling out his name. Cameras start flashing.

  Surrounded by his menacing team of guards, Cash looks to me, smiles and thank God, takes my hand in his. Then we are quickly escorted towards the entrance doors.

  Suddenly a bunch of girls leave the queue and rush forward squealing Cash’s name and stretching out their hands to touch him. I immediately feel intimidated by the surge, but Cash seems to take it all in his stride. He lets go of my hand and stops. He even shakes some hands. A girl begs for his autograph and suddenly thrusts her arm to him. Immediately Cash’s security team form a wall to block her.

  ‘Hey, it’s cool,’ Cash says, and taking a pen from one of the security team proceeds to sign her arm.

  ‘I love you,’ she screams as the red ropes are lifted and we are ushered quickly into what looks like a large theatre with two stages and meters upon meters of luxurious red velvet, exquisite gold embellishment and candles everywhere.

  Oiled-up naked beauties hang from the ceilings and dance on top of bathtubs. I know, weird, but wonderful. A woman named Ashleigh, one of the hostesses, comes to show us to a cordoned off private party area. There is red banquette seating and it is already crowded with people. The only people I recognize are Octavia and Gavin and two other members of Alkaline. Octavia smiles tightly at me, and Gavin gives me a slow smile.

  Cash starts introducing me to them. There are too many for me to remember, but the thing I notice straight away is how quickly the other women eye me up and down, then immediately set out to completely ignore me. As we mingle I even find myself being deliberately elbowed out of the way. Disgusted, I let go of Cash’s hand and almost instantly other people push me out of the way, like water closing on something. I turn away to go back to the table and a pair of strong arms catches me by the forearms.

  ‘Hey,’ Cash says, turning me around. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

  ‘Look. I know everybody wants to talk to you. I don’t blame them, you’re the star. I’ll just go back to the table and wait for you there.’

  He frowns. ‘Fuck off, you will. You’re with me. If I wanted to spend the night with them I would have come on my own.’

  ‘Cash,’ someone calls.

  ‘See,’ I say softly.

  ‘No, I don’t see,’ he says, and putting his arm around my waist turns to the person who called him. Now that it is clear I am to be part of the conversation and cannot be pushed away, some of the group reluctantly include me in their discussion.

  I understand that my voice is not welcome so I don’t say much. I just listen to what everyone else has to say and I try very hard not to watch Cash avidly or not to be distracted by his thumb slowly rubbing the small of my back.

  Thank God for the shows! I watch them with something akin to astonishment. No wonder they have a ban on phones and cameras. Nobody back home would believe the ‘cabaret’ shows at The Box.

  Two naked pre-op transvestites suck up the contents of a bottle of champagne into their butts and then spray it on the audience. No, you didn’t get that wrong. I did say butt and not mouth. Cash laughs at my shocked expression and tells me that is what it means to transcend the concept of indecency! There are also strip shows and a rather impressive fire eating stunt.

  Eventually food is ordered. Everyone has burgers and fries since it seems to be the only thing on the menu. After the show, the DJ plays plenty of dance hits and the dance floor fills up. When Cash excuses himself to go to the toilet, Robbie, one of the other band members who is very drunk, turns to me and says, ‘Hey, Yoko.’ There is something nasty in his voice. That gets the attention of the whole table.

  ‘What did you call me?’ I ask.

  ‘Are you planning to be a Yoko?’ he says again, this time louder.

  I feel my face start to burn. What the hell is a Yoko? All eyes at the table are on me. Some of them are openly sneering.

  ‘Leave her alone, Robbie,’ Gavin says.

  ‘No, let her answer,’ Octavia says, her jaw tight.

  I sit forward, anger storming at my gut, but I keep my voice even. No way in hell am I going to let this bunch of spoilt, entitled, green-eyed, immature shits get to me. ‘I’d answer if I knew what you were talking about.’

  ‘You know Yoko Ono. John Lennon’s big mistake. The bitch split the Beatles up.’

  With the exception of Gavin everyone at that table is hostile to me. The women are bubbling with jealousy and the men feel threatened that I will lure their precious superstar away from them. Cash and I have hardly started our relationship, it is at the just sex stage, and yet all these people see me as some kind of jezebel.

  ‘I have absolutely no intention of breaking the group up,’ I say clearly.

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ a man in a suit says sarcastically.

  Octavia says nothing. Just looks at me with hatred glowing in her eyes. The intensity of her animosity shocks me and I turn blindly to the only person who seems to offer any kind of support.

  Gavin winks at
me as if to say I did okay, and I mouth thank you.

  Everybody is deliberately watching me and trying to make me feel unwanted and unwelcome, so I casually pick up a cold fry from my plate and slip it daintily into my mouth, as if I don’t feel the waves of loathing coming at me. I chew it slowly, it tastes and feels like a wad of cold newspapers in my mouth. Then, without warning, everyone starts talking and laughing normally, I stare at them thinking I must be going mad when I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. Ah, they saw him arriving. I look up at him with relief.

  ‘Want to dance?’ he asks.

  I can’t even speak. I just nod and get to my feet. He leads me to one of the little raised platforms all around the club that are being used as mini dance floors. Faded is playing when Cash takes me into his arms. He doesn’t dance like anyone else. He just holds me close to his body, his hands enveloping me, and moves slowly so the only thing between us is the music swirling around us. He looks into my eyes and smiles so long and slow and I think my heart will stop. All the while I can feel his erection press into my stomach.

  ‘That’s what you do,’ he whispers.

  ‘What?’ I whisper back.

  He puts his forehead to mine. ‘You make me fade away.’

  My brain refuses to believe. Impossible. ‘Not the adored, famous, sex god, Cash Hunter?’ I croak.

  His lips are an inch away from mine. ‘Do you always have to be this annoying?’ he asks.

  ‘I call out bullshit as I smell it,’ I say.

  He chuckles. ‘You’re right. The truth is you make me so fucking hard I can’t even think straight anymore,’ he says and takes my lips.

  My heart pounds and I actually feel as if I am drowning in Cash Hunter. When he takes his mouth away I stare up at him, dazed, my legs like jelly, and my head spinning.

  ‘Excuse me, can we have an autograph please?’ a voice says and I jump.

  Startled out of my world, I swing my head towards two young women not much older than me, their faces animated and filled with excitement. They are staring at Cash as if they can’t believe their eyes. I turn my head back to him and unlike how he had been outside, there is now an expression of extreme irritation on his face. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and turns to them. ‘Not right now,’ he says tightly.