His last name. Oh my God.
“What about him?” I played it off, pretending the sound of his full name hadn’t sent butterflies dancing through my whole body. “I don’t think he wants to see you again, Lana.”
“And he wants to see you?” She crossed her arms, right away looking defensive even though I hadn’t so much as given her a threatening look. “You want me to back off, don’t you? Just admit it.”
“Back off?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. I tapped my friend on the shoulder and handed him my glass before getting off the sofa, towering over poor little Lana. “You think you’re any kind of competition, little girl?”
“You seem to think so,” she said with her head held high.
But I’d played these games before. I knew a scared little bitch when I saw one. I smiled in a syrupy-sweet way and leaned down against her lips.
“We better settle this somewhere else,” I told her while my friends went quiet.
“Bebe, don’t…” Anders muttered in my ear, but I waved him off.
“Come on, let’s go,” I said to Lana, and pulled her in the direction of the ladies’ room.
She followed closely behind, and as we started walking, I pulled my phone out of my purse. We made our way through the crowd, the dancefloor reverberating with the sound of the bass.
I swung the doors into the luxurious ladies’ room open. It was empty.
I settled on the round pink sofa in the middle of the room, the foyer of the bathroom made to look like a powder room.
“I think we have a common interest,” I told Lana when she settled down next to me.
If she was surprised by the fact I wasn’t about to kick her ass, the little bitch didn’t show it. She just glared at me and thought of how to respond. At least her mouth wasn’t as quick as her mind. It would do her a world of good when it came to dealing with me.
“Miles Reilly,” she said finally, and I smiled in response. “What do you know about him?”
“Probably not much more than you do,” I lied smoothly, shrugging. “But I know he’s probably at home right now regretting not having either of us. So, what do you say we have some fun?”
The girl’s eyes sparkled, and I thought to myself that I’d really underestimated her.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked, her voice shaking a little, and I giggled, showing her my phone.
“Want to take some selfies?” I asked her, my voice as wicked as my thoughts.
Her eyes sparked with recognition of a fellow troublemaker, and she nodded vigorously, only one question coming from her pretty pouty lips. “For Miles?”
“For Miles,” I agreed, snapping a shot of us sticking our tongues out for the camera.
I fired it off to his cell phone, deciding not to check obsessively for replies. Instead, I was going to have some fun. The kind I hadn’t had in years.
I fired off photo after photo.
Lana licking my ear.
Me pulling her hair back while she arched her spine.
Us, mouth to mouth, a sultry smile on our lips for the camera.
“Take your dress off,” I finally told her.
“What?” she blanched right away. “But… somebody could walk in.”
“This is the VIP bathroom,” I told her, pointing towards the sign. “You shouldn’t even be in here. But anyway, so what if they do? We give them a fucking show. Trust me, nobody is going to throw Bebe Hall out of a club. I fucking made this place what it is.”
She looked back at me, her wide eyes feigning surprise.
“Oh, stop,” I said simply. “Come on, show me your tits.”
Her shaky fingers pulled down the straps of her dress, and her tits spilled free with no bra or even tape to hold them in place. She was gorgeous, a natural beauty with a slim body and big, sexy boobs. Our bodies weren’t alike at all—she was pale where I was tanned, I was toned and she was tiny and curvy. A different kind of girl, but a beauty nonetheless.
Her nipples were pretty, a dark shade of pink. They settled into tight buds as I took pictures. She didn’t need much guidance, the alcohol and whatever the fuck else she’d had that night working her up a treat and making her the slut I knew she could be.
She licked her own nipples, let me suck on them. She rubbed her cunt over a lacy black thong and moaned for me while I filmed her. Every new snapshot was sent to Miles’ phone, hopefully driving him insane.
We burst out of the bathroom, laughing and holding hands, already fast friends as we made our way to the bar. We got drinks from a group of guys, Johnny and Anders long forgotten. We drank shot after shot. Downed pill after pill. I was fucking dizzy, delirious and giggling like a fool, and little Lana was being a complete slut, her mouth desperate for mine, her eyes drinking me in as I danced all over the dancefloor, a bottle of Moet in my hand and raised to the DJ.
She found a pink feather boa somewhere and had it wrapped around my neck the next moment. I threw my head back and laughed, and the world spun around me in slow-motion. If only I could get off on the right stop. The one where Posy was waiting for me patiently, ready to fix all the mistakes I’d made in the past years.
But when I looked ahead, I didn’t see Posy. I saw a girl I didn’t know, a girl I was using to get to a guy that wasn’t even mine.
I pulled her against me and a tear slipped down my cheek as I kissed her.
I felt everyone’s eyes on us as we devoured each other, tongues intertwining, pussies dripping, the scent of her strawberry shampoo heavy in my nose. I handed my phone off to someone I didn’t know or care about and asked her to take photos of us. She did. Moments later, all of them ended up in Miles’ inbox, because I couldn’t help myself.
I was angry and jealous, bitter and upset because she had touched him, and I still hadn’t.
I kissed her harder, sucked on her slutty tongue and filled my phone with raunchy images of us.
And with Lana’s lips hot on mine, I could almost remember a different moment, a moment just like this one.
“Posy, don’t be such a messy drunk!” Arden giggled as our friend sprayed a bottle of champagne all over her brand new Alexander McQueen dress. “Oh my God, you’re going to ruin your outfit!”
“I don’t care!” Posy climbed on the table and got everyone’s attention in a matter of seconds. “Hey. HEY! Can you hear me?”
Everyone cheered her on and Arden groaned and hid her face in my shoulder as Posy shouted into the bottle, pretending it was a microphone.
“Who’s ready to have some FUN tonight?” she asked at the top of her voice, and everyone cheered again.
“I’m here with my best friends,” she went on, grinning at us. “We’re new to the city. Oh, except for Bee. She’s been here for years.”
I shifted my feet uncomfortably. My glasses felt thick and uncomfortable on top of my nose, the dress they’d forced me into way too tight and way too short.
“Arden and Bebe,” Posy went on dramatically. “I love you bitches. Forever!”
We helped her get off while everyone cheered. It was only the beginning of our evening, and only the start of the three years we’d spend in the city together.
I was a nobody before Arden and Posy. I was a bookish geek with her nose in a book and glasses so thick people still bullied me at eighteen. I was boring. A nice enough face, but a body I hid in baggy clothes because I was afraid of my own curves. Then, they appeared… Broke, glamorous. Spending every last cent they had on clothes and booze, and taking me under their wings. They dragged me out every night, and I let them, because for once in my life, I wanted to know what it was like to be an it girl.
I had the money. They had everything else. And slowly, as the weeks passed, I became one of them.
Someone put another pill in my hand. I stared at it for a long time.
It was shaped like a heart, a neon purplish glow making it look like it was something from another planet.
I remembered snippets of conversation.
“It was a heart-shap
ed pill…”
“…we don’t know the name…”
“….overdose…”
“Too late… we can’t do anything…”
I realized in a very small, very quiet part of my brain that this was the pill Posy had taken the night she overdosed and died.
I stared at it in my palm, the purple heart so innocent. It would never hurt me. I trusted my heart. I trusted the pill. And Miles had my back, anyway, right?
Miles. Miles. Miles.
Maybe if I did this, he would finally come to get me.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
I swallowed the pill, washing it down with more champagne and letting Lana kiss me, her tongue twirling and licking up the remains of the pill on my lips.
And then I let it take over.
Unfamiliar, adjective
Not known or recognized.
She was an odd sight in my apartment, and she looked different in person than I had imagined her.
It had always been obvious Dr. Halen was an attractive woman, but seeing her in person told me just how stunning she was. She was very tall, but that didn’t turn her off from wearing heels, and her feet were arched on black lacquered pumps with a red sole and a pencil-thin, staggeringly tall heel. She was blonde, her hair somehow enhanced to make for a mane of honey-blonde, tumbling in easy waves around her shoulders. She wore a lot of makeup, most of it serving to bring out her sky-blue eyes. She was a stunning woman, probably around fifty or fifty-five. I could barely take my eyes off her, but not because I was attracted.
I was concerned. She’d just seen me get into my apartment through a window. As far as Dr. Halen knew, I was crippled by the fear of outside. I didn’t leave my apartment, ever. What would she think now? And what was I going to tell her? The truth, or more thinly veiled lies to shut her up?
She sighed as she moved closer to me. Her body was slim, her breasts pressed up in the décolletage of her ivory blouse. Her skirt was tight. Very attractive indeed.
“I’ve been worried about you, Mr. Reilly,” she told me. “That’s why I had to come and check up on you. Something wasn’t adding up, and I knew something was going on.”
My fingers gripped the doorframe as she drew closer. There was something in her attitude that didn’t speak of a doctor-patient relationship. She found me attractive. Her eyes kept dancing over my inked muscles, settling on my mouth, drinking in my heavy frame.
“Dr. Halen,” I repeated. “How did you get in here?”
She smiled at me, tilting her head. “Well, past the doorman, obviously. I guess that’s not how you come and go, though.”
She was so close now, and I moved away from the door, peeling myself away from her and approaching the bar.
“Would you like a drink?” I asked her hoarsely, and she nodded, her hand on the door. She had long red nails shaped into neat, rounded points. “What’s your poison?”
“Whatever you’re having,” she said, waving a hand as if it didn’t really matter. “You know, I was wondering how long it would take for the two of us to finally meet.”
I gave her a sideways glance. She may have gotten through to our doorman, but she wasn’t fooling me. There was another reason she was here, and she wasn’t ready to tell me just yet. But I was going to get it out of her one way or another.
I poured us both a Scotch on the rocks.
“What are you really doing here?” I asked her once we clinked our glasses and each took a long sip of the amber liquid. “You’re not fooling me, Dr. Halen.”
“Agneta,” she said with a smile. “You can call me Agneta. I’m not on office hours right now.”
“Agneta,” I confirmed, cringing the whole way through. I didn’t want to call her fucking Agneta. I wanted to call her Dr. Halen, and I wanted her back on the other side of the screen where I was safe from her toxic fucking touch. “Please, explain what made you come over here tonight.”
“Warning signs,” she said, walking over to the sofa and sitting. When she crossed her legs, I caught a glimpse of her stockings, and my cock twitched at the sight. “We’ve been talking online for a couple of years, Miles. I know all your habits. I also know when you’re trying to hide something from me.”
“I’m not hiding anything,” I insisted, and she let out a short laugh.
“Spare me the lies, Miles,” she said simply. “I’m here because I was worried about you. I was convinced you were planning something. You spoke about ending your life quite often a year ago, Miles, do you remember that?”
I looked away, unable to handle the pressure of her gaze.
“You don’t have to answer,” she said gently, and I walked over to the window, one hand in my pocket and the other clasped around the cold glass. I needed a fucking smoke like never before in my life, even though I hadn’t smoked for years. But my thoughts kept escaping to the hidden pack of cigarettes in the back of my closet. I would be desperately taking the poison from one of them in my lungs the second I got rid of Dr. Halen.
“But it seems like I needn’t have been worried at all,” Dr. Halen finally said thoughtfully. “Actually, Miles, you seem better than ever.”
I raised my gaze to her eyes, and she smiled at me gently.
The attraction between us made the room heated, but I would never make a move.
Not now, not ever. The obvious reason was Bebe, but I’d sooner die than admit that to myself.
“What’s her name?” Dr. Halen asked quietly, breaking the tense moment as if she was shattering a window. “Come on, Miles. At least tell me something, so I can leave here in peace.”
“She’s a girl,” I said. “Just… a girl.”
“Just a girl?” she pressed.
“No,” I barked back. “She’s… I don’t know. She’s everything. She’s all I can think about. The only thing on my mind. I’m worried I’m getting addicted, you know, like the cigarettes.”
I didn’t mention my urge for a cancer stick, but it looked like she knew. In fact, it looked like she knew everything. And suddenly we were patient and therapist again as she got off the couch and grabbed her coat and gloves.
“I’m glad you’re alright, Miles,” she said simply. “I will admit I came here because I wasn’t just worried professionally.”
My heart hurt when she went on.
“You have people who care about you.” Her voice was soft, but I couldn’t so much as look at her. “I know you don’t want or need them, Miles. But you are not alone. Remember that.”
Any other time I would have ripped her clothes to shreds, choked her while I fucked her into oblivion. But not this time.
She left a fleeting squeeze on my wrist, and then she was gone in a cloud of Chanel perfume and expensive shoes clacking on my hardwood floors. The door closed behind her and locked into place.
I felt suddenly overheated, over-pressured, and overstressed.
I tore at my clothes. My T-shirt ended up on the floor and my pants followed suit until my body was exposed. I stared at my own reflection in the window, wishing Bebe was there with me. I didn’t want Dr. Halen. I didn’t want anyone I’d met. I wanted her, and only fucking her, and now I knew I wasn’t going to stop until I tasted her.
Bleach. I needed bleach.
Intense feelings of self-hatred mixed with overwhelming emotions took over my body. I grabbed a pristine white bottle from my secret stash in the pantry, along with a packet of cancer sticks, and raced to the bathroom. My glorious, custom-made tub awaited me, offering comfort only it could bring. I emptied too much bleach into its bowels, pouring and pouring even when I knew it was too much.
Then I stopped, and I thought of her. Of Bebe.
My fingers shook as I turned the drain and watched most of the bleach leak out. I only left a little.
I got into the ice-cold bath, the bleach burning, tingling, itching. In my right hand, I held the packet of sins in a shaky hand. And my fingers shook harder as I lit one up, throwing my head back and staring at the ceiling above me as I let the
smoke into my body.
My mind was swimming with her, sexy, sweet little Bebe that I would never get enough of. Fucking shit, she was messing with my head. I never got like this, and much less over a girl that was supposed to mean nothing. But I kept remembering the most basic details. The way her sheets smelled. The feel of her bra against my nose. Her hair fanning over the silk pillows.
I soaked in the bath for what felt like hours, until it was so cold my teeth were chattering despite my stinging flesh. Finally, I climbed out and dried off my damaged skin.
I felt better now. Not yet relaxed, but at least a little more in control than I had been when I’d found Dr. Halen in my living room.
I wrapped a towel around my waist and made my way into the living room, where my phone sat blinking in the darkness.
Picking it up, my eyes bulged at the sight. I had seventeen messages, all from one number that I’d come to know very well.
I clicked through to the photos, staring and staring and then staring some fucking more.
They started coming in three hours ago, probably around the time I’d been snooping around in Bebe’s apartment.
And fuck, were they hot. So fucking hot.
I didn’t recognize the other girl right away. My eyes were focused on Bebe, her sexy little body in that sinful dress, her eyes so desperate as she stared into the camera. She really wanted me, but I knew it was only because she hadn’t discovered the horrible truth that lay behind my exterior.
And then it clicked. The other girl was Lana, my conquest from the other day. She was still just as pretty and cute, but a little less disheveled than she had been with my cum splattered all over her face. And now she was fucking working with Bebe to get me off.
I’d never hated my agoraphobia more. Every cell in my body was demanding I go right over there, put Bebe over my knee in front of all her shitty friends, and spank that tight little ass while they all watched. God, I wanted to. I wanted her to know full well what bad girls get when they misbehave.
Instead, I was left with a tented towel, and wondering why I wasn’t fucking man enough to just get over my damn irrational fear. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t even take a single step to the front door. I was glued to the spot, fucking doomed. I would never be able to get a girl like Bebe.
Peep Show Page 11
