Slowly, our mouths move together. The urgency of our passion, steadily draining away as our heart beats and breathing calm. Gently, we run our fingers over each other’s bodies, touching lightly as we continue to explore each other’s mouths.
Eventually, our kisses become smaller, slower - until we stop, and lock eyes as the gravity of what we’ve just done starts to sink in.
Sliding out of me, he rolls onto his back and looks up to the ceiling. Suddenly, I feel very cold, and incredibly guilty.
“We can’t do this again,” I whisper.
“And we can’t tell Ed,” he returns. I roll my head to the side on the pillow and find him also looking at me.
The moment our eyes reconnect, something passes between us, and we roll into each other, wrapping our bodies up together as we lock our lips, moving as one, touching each other, devouring each other.
After another round of mind blowing sex, we lay together, still wrapped in each other’s arms and catch our breath.
“Tell me about who you are Paige. I want to know you,” he whispers, brushing his fingers through my hair as I rest my head on his chest.
I relay my entire story to him, from the time I got kicked out, until the night I met them in the club. I didn’t bother hiding any of it. I had a feeling he’d see through any lie that I told him. So, I was honest, and it felt good to say it all, to let it out.
I’ve spent months pretending to be another person, so it was kind of like reclaiming Paige, the girl from the mirror, and making her me again.
“So you’re only seventeen?” he reiterates.
“I am. Does that change anything for you?”
“No. I don’t see age as a problem. I just want you.” He hooks his finger under my chin and pulls my mouth up to his. Slowly, our mouths move together, and I’m lost in his arms. I’m lost in his mouth. I’m lost in him.
For the rest of the day, we explore each other’s bodies, and I honestly forget all about where I am and who I’m with. More importantly, I forget who I’m not with.
We lose track of time. We get greedy, or we just don’t care. But, when Ed appears in the doorway and finds us together. I almost die.
“Ed!” I yell out, my eyes locked with his.
Matthew pauses mid-pump, a horrified look upon his face as the name registers in his mind.
“Oh no,” he groans.
We scramble to separate and cover ourselves with the bed clothes, but it makes no difference. It’s too late.
I don’t know how long Ed’s been standing there for. But, his face is dark and stormy. He’s been watching us. He saw exactly what we were doing. Oh god.
The expression on his face breaks my heart. I’ve just hurt the kindest, most gentle man I’ve ever known.
Chapter Twenty-One
Never again can I let my attraction toward someone cloud my mind and make me compromise myself.
I guess it would have been better if Ed had gone crazy and yelled, but he didn’t. He just picked up my back pack and all the clothing and shoes that led him to us and dropped them on the floor of Matthew’s bedroom as we babbled nonsense, trying to explain ourselves.
“Just be gone by the time I get back,” he said to me.
“Ed. Mate. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over us!” Matthew pleaded.
“Fuck you!” he bellowed. The eruption of his voice reverberated in my ears and caused me to jump. I stood there, unspeaking, unmoving, as he left us alone in the aftermath of our lust induced and monumentally stupid decision.
We didn’t speak as we got dressed. We didn’t make eye contact. We knew what we were doing was wrong. But we did it anyway.
As I lifted my bag onto my shoulder, Matthew finally spoke. “I’m sorry Paige.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“You know if it wasn’t for Ed, then you and I…” he started to explain.
“Please… just… don’t. Don’t talk like this was ever more than it was,” I interrupted. “It makes no difference now.”
I left Matthew sitting on the end of his bed with his head in his hands and walked out.
Now, I’m on the bus, heading toward yet another budget motel chain to spend more of my very limited funds on a room for the night, while I curse myself for fucking up the first normal relationship I’ve ever had.
Ed was a good guy. He wanted to take care of me, and he didn’t ask for much in return. To repay him, I just fucked his best mate. I am a horrible, horrible person.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Relationships obviously aren’t for me. I failed the one with Jeff, and then failed miserably with Ed.
Every time I think about it, I feel so awful about what happened with Ed. In the weeks that have passed since leaving, I’ve thought about it constantly. The look on his face, the hurt in his voice. I just…I can’t do that to anyone again.
As an alternative - I’ve become a major whore.
No - that’s actually being disrespectful to whores. Really, I’m worse. I give it away for free.
I go out to clubs and go home with guys, then refuse to make plans to see them again. I hop from club to club, bed to bed, and I don’t care who it is, as long as I have somewhere to go.
Inhaling deeply, I snort a line of coke off the top of a toilet roll dispenser in the bathroom of a nightclub in Darling Harbour. When I exit the stall, I walk towards the mirror to fix my appearance. As I look at myself, the effects of the drug start to take hold. But not before I notice that the girl who used to struggle to pass for twenty-two is starting to look like perhaps she’s even older.
Her name keeps changing. I’ve taken to stealing handbags to get by. I’m good at it too. The initial remorse I felt is a distant memory now, as I do whatever I have to do to survive.
Tonight, my name is Peyton. I like that name. It makes me feel like I’m a character of some sort. Although, I have to admit I’m having trouble keeping track of who I am on any given day. That moment with Matt, when I was finally me, was so fleeting. I haven’t been me for a long time. Somewhere inside, I guess I’m still there, but I’m having trouble finding myself.
I push my way out of the bathroom, and stumble a little as my heel catches the floor. I’m flying now as I head towards the guy, who is my supplier and hopeful bedfellow for the night.
“Whoa there!” he laughs, as he reaches out to catch me from my misstep. We cling to each other, laughing, as we go to the dance floor and begin to move to the beat. I slide my arms over his shoulders and swing my body against his, engaging in the usual, pulsing foreplay that comes with hooking up at clubs.
It’s all the same. Every day is the same. Only the drugs are slightly different.
Depending on how I feel each night is how I choose my men. I pick them based on what they’re using, because I want to use as well. It makes this life I’m now leading more bearable.
Ecstasy users dance all night in fluid movements and want nothing more than to feel you pressed up against them, to touch and share their experience. As long as I’m right there, high with them, then sex is great that way. It doesn’t even matter what they’re doing to me. It all feels fantastic.
Speeders dance in jerky movements and drink heavily while speaking a mile a minute. I try to avoid them at all costs because they fuck all night long and have trouble coming. The next morning leaves me with an overused feeling between my legs, and I end up springing for a hotel room to recover.
My drug of choice is coke, so when I find a man on a coke high, I aim straight for him. They generally have more on them to keep the high going. I long for the euphoria that coke gives me, it makes life seem worth living. Even though it really isn’t anymore.
Still riding my high, I continue to dance with this guy whose name I forgot the moment he told me. I’m feeling like the sexiest woman in the world as I sway my hips and shoulders along with him.
Eventually, he leads me outside. I cling to his hand, trotting along beside him, in my ridiculously high heels until we make it to a
parking garage.
“Where’s your car?” I ask, leaning against his chest and tilting my head up to look into his face. He brings his mouth down to mine, taking hold of my face on either side as he explores my mouth with his tongue.
It feels ok. But it’s all starting to feel the same now. Each kiss takes another piece of my self-respect with it. Without the drugs, I don’t think I could keep doing this.
“This one will do,” he says, taking me by the shoulders and spinning me around, so I’m pressed up against the back of the nearest car.
With quick hands, he lifts my dress and pushes me forward, working my panties to the side as he inserts himself inside me. Pumping and panting as he drives back and forth. I only hope he’s wearing a condom, because I didn’t notice him putting one on.
Unfeeling, I study the paint work of the car I’m lying on top of. It’s red, like a fire engine. Small lights reflect off it, and I wonder what the owner would think if they knew what was happening to their car right now. The only thing I can really care about, is the fact that it’s now unlikely I’ll get that free bed tonight.
Oh well, at least he gave me coke.
He grunts as he finishes and pulls out of me. Standing, I turn around, readjusting my clothing so I’m decent, and feeling relieved as I watch him remove a condom and flick it on the concrete ground with a splat.
It’s then that I notice the wedding ring. Inwardly, I roll my eyes, annoyed at my own stupidity - he was never going to take me home.
“Thanks for that. It was just what I needed,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a set of car keys. “I’ll see you around.” He leans in and kisses me on the cheek, like we’re friends or something, and wanders off, just leaving me leaning against the car.
“This is bullshit,” I say to myself, as I trudge back to the club and collect my things. I curse myself constantly, and I walk the streets. Now I have to pay for a motel room.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The city is a big place, and I’ve travelled around, trying not to enter the same club twice. But I’m running out of places to go. Eventually, I’m right back where I started. I’m at Planetary, the club where I met Ed. I just hope to god, he isn’t inside to see me.
It’s been almost three months since I last saw him. I have done some terrible things to avoid sleeping on the streets. I have stolen and lied more times than I’m comfortable admitting, and I’ve slept with more faceless men than I even care to think of. But I keep going. Such is my existence.
Tonight, I aim for a guy who’s really into the music. He’s dancing holding a drink of water. I can tell he’s on something. I slide in near him and whisper in his ear. He grins and pulls me toward him, then drives his tongue halfway down my throat.
“You want what I have do you?” he asks in my ear.
“I do,” I reply, giving him my sexiest half-lidded look.
He mouths the word ‘open’. I do as he says and swallow when he drops a pill in my mouth. We dance for a while as I wait for the familiar feeling of dropping an E to take over me.
But it’s not an E. Now that it’s working. I know it’s not. I think I just dropped acid. It’s something I never wanted to do.
My eyes grow wide as the guy I’m dancing with starts to grow and loom above me, his facial features fall into his face and when he speaks, strange animalistic sounds come out.
As I look around, the room looks totally fucked up, nothing is as it was before. The music sounds all distorted in my ears and dark shadowy creatures are appearing to me from in between the strobing lights. They’re roaring and clawing at me, trying to take me somewhere.
I start to push my way through the crowd. I don’t know which way is out, but I need to try and find it. I can’t breathe in here. There is anger being directed toward me and I’m scared. Something is after me. Hands grab at me and my body starts to shake as I hear screaming.
It’s coming from me.
The moment I realise it. Everything goes black.
***
When I come to, I’m on a couch and a face I’ve seen before is peering down at me. It’s Braden, the guy I met months ago while he was manning the coat check during the daytime when I went to stay with Ed and Matthew.
“There she is,” he says kindly. “You took a bit of a bad turn last night, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what the hell happened last night,” I croak, as I try to sit up on the couch I’m lying on.
“Sweetheart, you’re lucky it was me who found you and not someone else. You are too young and gorgeous to be getting your highs from strangers.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“I’ve seen you around the clubs lately. You’re always with someone, and on something, and you’re always carrying that big backpack of yours around. Have you got nowhere to go?”
I lay back and roll my eyes, sighing. “If I had somewhere to go, do you think I’d fuck half the guys I go home with?”
“No. No I don’t. Although, if I had your gift for attracting men, I wouldn’t be here looking after you. I’d be off with a man of my own.”
“Congratulations. You’re gay,” I state, my voice an emotional void.
“Officially I’m bi, but I do tend to lean a little closer to the gay side, which is why I’ve noticed you. You have gone home with some very fine men lately.”
I sit up properly and clutch at my head as pain throbs behind my eyes. “Thanks, I guess,” I wince.
“Here,” he says, handing me two Nurofen and a glass of water. “I’m curious - why do you keep going home with different drug fucked meat heads? Why don’t you choose one of those geeky looking guys who drool all over you and would do anything you asked just to be seen in your presence? You’re a fucking goddess.”
“Been there, done that. I can’t do relationships. I can’t stand the hurt look on their face when I screw it up. I go with the guys I do because they’re jerks. Hot guys are always jerks. They don’t give a fuck about me. They don’t ask questions. They just give me what I want, while taking what they want. It’s an easy trade.”
He takes the glass of water off me and places it on the coffee table in front of me, before he sits on the chair opposite. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a wad of cards and starts flipping through them.
“So which one of these are you? Linda? Erica? Peyton?… there’s more. What did you do? Rob every girl who looks remotely like to you take her ID?”
I reach forward to snatch them back, but he pulls the cards out of my reach. “Give them back.”
“Maybe I should. I can write these girls a nice letter and tell them that I found the girl who stole from them. I’m guessing that she’s this girl right here,” he says waiving my own ID at me. “Paige Larsen. A seventeen year old runaway from where? Jamisontown? Where’s that?”
“I’m not from Jamisontown. It’s just where I was living when I got my learners permit,” I tell him, reaching out again to try to take my ID.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts, moving them away from me again.
“What do you want from me? I don’t have any money, and I’m too sober to sleep with you.”
“Well, I did have something else in mind for you. But after seeing your skills, I think you can help us both out.”
“What kind of skills are you talking about?”
“The ones that help you survive my dear Paige.”
“That’s not a skill. It’s called a pussy.”
He laughs. “Not your pussy sweetheart. I’m talking about how you got your hands on all these IDs. There’s a lot of money in selling them because they’re too hard to counterfeit without the right machine.”
“So you want me to bag snatch for you?”
“I prefer to call it ‘acquiring stock’, but yes.”
“And what’s in it for me?”
“Well, you’d be doing me a slight favour in helping me change career paths. In return, since you seem to be lacking a permanent place to stay,
you’ll have the use of my couch, and we’ll split the money from the sales, fifty-fifty.”
“That seems a little unfair. I’m taking all the risk, and you’re getting all the gain.”
“Believe me sweetheart, there’s plenty of risk in what I’m doing. The guy I’ll sell them to is into a hell of a lot of shit, and if I get caught, I’ll be charged with more than just theft.”
Looking around the room, I take in my surroundings. It looks like we’re in a studio apartment. There’s one of those tri-fold room dividers separating a bed from the rest of the room, and a small kitchenette off to the side. The walls are a bare red brick, and the floors are a grey concrete with rugs dotted about the furniture. There’s only one door, so I assume there must be a communal bathroom somewhere.
Sleeping here and actually making some money would be a nice change of pace. All the men are starting to look the same, and I’m getting sick of having sex. I have no idea how prostitutes do it as an actual job.
“Alright. As long as I don’t have to sleep with you - it’s a deal.”
He laughs. “Don’t worry sweetheart. I like my dick too much to put it in the likes of you.”
“Fuck you. I don’t have anything. I always use protection.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “It’s ok. I’m joking. But you won’t have to worry. I don’t want sleep with you. I just want to make lots of money with you,” he grins. “Are you in?”
“Fine. I’m in,” I concede, with a roll of my eyes.
Clapping his hands together, he rises from his seat. “I think this new business venture of ours calls for a little celebration. Care to chase the dragon with me?”
“The what?”
“You can’t be serious. You don’t know what I’m talking about?” he says getting up and walking over to his kitchen.
“Never heard of it.”
“Well then, let me show you.”
He opens a draw and pulls out a roll of foil and tears pieces off. He folds them into neat rectangles and sets them aside. He then takes a baggie of small irregular shaped crystals and adds one to the end of each bit of foil.
Phoenix: The Beauty in Between (A Beautiful Series Companion Novel) Page 10
