“Damn, you are beautiful,” Jasper whispered and for once Serena didn’t mind the word damn preceding the word you.
Without going into all the sordid details (which Serena did not feel inclined to share) the event was romantic, powerful and surreal all at once. The sort of coupling that a teenage girl’s dreams are made of and inasmuch as Serena could talk about it for hours, she preferred to keep it to herself. Maybe because it had been a while since Serena had been made love. Or maybe simply because it was Jasper and he believed in things like privacy and energy. The more you share it with others, the less you have to keep for yourself.
As one could guess, life in the office wasn’t all peaches and cream after the episode with Lola. To the contrary it was Markie’s worst nightmare come true.
He was sure it was awkward enough for two people who enjoyed energetic sex and then put it down to fun and parted ways. But when it was a bad lay, what did one do? His experience with Lola had honestly turned him off plastic Barbies for life.
It was hell getting out of that motel room after the sex was over (he had timed it and not even forty five minutes had passed from him checking into the room to ejaculation). Markie had lain there after the act, waiting for Lola to make the first move. Surely she’d get up soon to put on another layer of makeup or something, he thought and that’s when he would make his escape. But no, Lola insisted on some cuddle time and that he snuggle her, not the other way around.
“Come here,” she had said, pulling Markie closer, “lay your head here on my impressive chest.”
As pathetic as that sounded, she was right about their description. Her assets stood erect like rigid mountains upon her torso. Fake, they had to be fake he decided then and there, scolding himself for not noticing earlier. Behind clothing they had looked real enough but once he got some skin to skin contact he realized they were no softer than a pillow filled with bricks. It hurt his head to rest on them, as well as his neck thanks to the steep slant.
Half an hour later Markie was still lying there and it became evident Lola intended to hold him hostage. Whilst stroking his hair, she rambled on about how in the morning she was going to request a four-egg white omelet breakfast in bed and then go and utilize the hotel’s gym, to burn the calories off quicker apparently.
“But of course you’ll make love to me at least five times before then.”
By this point Markie sensed the dire situation and became planning a half-decent escape, one better fit for a movie.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” he had said, wriggling out of her grasp.
“What are you doing in there?” Lola yelled three minutes later. Rap, rap, rap, she tapped at the door. “If you’re showering let me in.”
“Just a sec,” said Markie, hopping on one leg while putting the other into his trousers. “One more minute…” He didn’t bother tucking in his shirt; instead he quickly buttoned himself up and then put his socks on inside out. It was neater this way, if he was dressed. He could talk rationally then and exit like a man.
“Where are you going?” Lola asked when Markie had opened up the door. Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits and that look, along with her smooth nakedness made her resemble a snake.
“Nowhere,” he replied, “I was just gonna pop downstairs and get you a surprise.”
“Really?” Lola asked, sounding skeptical. Uh oh…. Markie hoped no one had tried this plan on her before. “What is it?”
“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”
“No…” Lola’s voice had trailed off when she saw the mirror. “Gosh, go on then,” she said, puckering up her lips to the reflection, as though she were about to snog herself. “Bring me back whatever you have in mind and pronto. A lady doesn’t like to be kept waiting, you know.”
“Yes ma’am,” Markie replied, eyeing his keys on the bedside table. Without those, he wouldn’t get very far but how could he lift them without arousing suspicion?
“Lola…” he said, sniffing the air around. “Do you notice that something smells strange in this room?”
“No,” she replied, wrinkling her nose. “What sort of smell?”
“I don’t know. A bit like…” Markie had wanted to say fart or flatulence but the words got caught in his throat. “An off smell… you didn’t by some chance…?” He nodded down to her ass.
“Me?” Lola pointed to herself, utterly horrified. “I don’t think so.”
What a great way to kill the last inkling of romantic spirit, Markie smiled to himself. He picked up the keys once Lola had safely disappeared to the shower, as predicted, and noted that he’d have to share this tip with all his friends. Just accuse her of stinking up the place like a garbage truck; that will do every time. With any luck, Lola would surreptitiously get dressed and run away herself, upon Markie’s departure. Yes, knowing her she’ll do just that, Markie decided as he slipped into his car; she’ll creep out and think she’s done the one over her boss. This thought settled his mind, erasing all guilt by the time he got home.
Cross the threshold to a new day and Markie was now scared stiff. He had been all calm and cool until he entered the office, until he saw Lola standing there like Madonna on a pissed off day outside his door.
“Where did you disappear to?” she hissed under her breath.
“What?” Markie stammered. Crap, it was not hip at all for a MD to have his feathers ruffled by anyone, let alone a subordinate. Keep composed for now and tell her you’ll discuss it when you want to, on your terms, later. “We’ll talk about it this afternoon.”
“Oh no, we won’t,” Lola snapped, following Markie into the office.
He let this tone slip once again - it was early and no one else had arrived. But if she did it again Markie would be forced to rap Lola hard across the fingers.
“Yes we will,” Markie insisted. “A secretary does not dictate what her boss does with his time and never will. I hope you understand that.”
Lola stepped back, as though slapped across the face. For the first time ever, Markie thought she was ugly. Just look at that contorted pancake face and artificial orange body of hers, what did he ever see in her? What did all the boys see in her? Maybe Lola was one of those black witches who used her power to cast spells over men and only now, having eaten her pussy – the antidote – could Markie see the light. He was sure he could talk until he was blue in the face about how Lola was a selfish, synthetic and weird bitch but no one else would get it, not one other boy in the universe, until they slept with her too.
Now that he thought of Lola as more average than superb, Markie found it easier to put her in her place. That afternoon, he called her into his office and their conversation went a bit like this:
“Look Lola, I’m afraid this extra-curricular relationship between us isn’t going to work. We went to bed because my self-confidence was feeling slightly battered but that is it. We’re professionals and as professionals we must act accordingly. For the sake of our working relationship, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
Lola stood there, hands pressed together and teeth clenched, listening but who could say if she was really taking it in?
“Yes sir,” she murmured, like a good personal assistant. Then she got up and left.
Markie didn’t kid himself by thinking that their secret rendezvous was completely brushed over. It hadn’t been put to rest, not by a long shot. It would take time for her disappointment and embarrassment on his end to die and wash away. And that was okay…For now he just had to accept - a fire of rage was boiling right beneath Lola’s surface.
“Tension, tension,” Rick nicely summed up the feeling in the air. “I think it’s time for you to get laid again.”
Markie groaned like a beaten tiger and slumped deeper into the plush velvet couch. Yellow velvet wouldn’t ordinarily rate high on his list of style but the C-lounge had offset its sunshine quality with lots of cherry wood here and there which made it okay.
“Damn, I really don’t think I could go
out there again,” he said, speaking of women in general, as if they were a battlefield. “Really, is it worth it? Fifteen minutes of satisfaction for a lifetime of pain?”
Rick grinned.
“You didn’t complain when Biffy had your time and attention.”
“Oh so that’s the secret now? Pay them to do their stuff and go away.”
“You have to admit the practice does have its merits,” Rick said, reaching down to grab another handful of shelled peanuts off the coffee table. He cracked one open, threw the nuts into his mouth and discarded the cracked shell onto the already towering pile on a serviette. “At the very least it keeps hooligans and crime off the streets. Isn’t that the argument for legalizing brothels, to minimize rape and crap?”
“Ah huh,” Markie agreed, looking around once more. “This ain’t a bad place you know.”
And not just because it was far, far away from Lola. The C-Lounge, with its live Friday afternoon acoustic band, looked like the sort of place where people ordered cocktails, and girls knew how to hold a conversation. He imagined that Serena, with all her sophistication, would love to immerse herself here, yet they had never been here before. When was it that they stopped frequenting trendy, new locales? The past few years, their social life was dictated more than invitations than preference.
“From the looks of it, they’ll have some good sorts here tonight,” Rick observed. “Got anything else planned?”
“No, I can hang here.”
Why not? Markie sighed. It wasn’t like he was going to lucky at home. If anything home was more of a bad omen these days, it reminded him of his impending departure and move to Rick’s place. This sucks he thought to himself. He had gotten what he always wanted – the freedom, in fact the permission to sleep with a mass of women and all he could think about now was which suitcase to pack his stuff in. What if he forgot to take something really, really important, would Serena mind him coming back for it? Probably not, though he noted Serena hadn’t had that need herself to drop in. Then again she was a girl and girls do sick things like borrow each other’s underwear when pressed.
For the next few hours, Rick and Markie hung out at the C-lounge, feeling quite like Important People. Only Important People seemed to be floating about, distinguished-looking men in suits, and pretty women in stockings, all under the age of thirty. One could almost smell the wealth in the air, without any hint of the wannabe desperation. If he was a female looking for a nice rich guy, this was where Markie would come.
“How long has this place being open for?” he asked the waiter, when he brought over another bottle of red wine. The guy looked like all the staff here, fresh-faced, tanned and eager, with a strange name like Indigo, Jasper or Mango (it was Rexy in this instance).
“Not that long,” he replied, “but it’s going well. People like the easygoing atmosphere.”
Yes they did, it appeared. By eight o’clock, the C-Lounge was packed and the doormen were letting in only folk with member’s badges. There were no second-rate chicks here either; all looked like they could appear in magazines of some sort or another. At this point Rick and Markie realized they were blessed to have snagged one of the lucrative yellow couches. There weren’t many about and two girls nearby, so model tall their knees were at Markie’s eye level, kept looking wistfully their way. He had seen this look before, if only you guys would move over just a tiny bit…
“Would you like a seat?” Markie motioned to them, before Rick could object. You see Rick had a secret issue with keeping his legs too close together; he said it made his balls uncomfortable, that they needed room to breathe.
“Thanks,” said the brunette, and more attractive one, plopping close beside Markie. Not that the blonde was unattractive; Markie thought her repellent quality was a consequence of being scarred by Lola. “I haven’t seen you guys before.”
Oh so they were regulars. Talk about feeling like a new kid on the block. Markie pondered on all the adventures he’d missed out on hitherto and whether it was okay to sleep with seven women from the same place. Surely there wasn’t a law against it, though keeping used stock away from each other would inevitably be a problem.
The brunette, Clarissa, was a solicitor, twenty-five and looking for a long-term relationship. She didn’t say that last bit as such but it was implied by the word single. Damn and damn again. Clarissa didn’t seem like the sort one could just sleep with and toss aside. Rick, on the other hand, loved the fact that Siobhan, the blonde, was an “up-and-coming” anchorwoman on a cable television station. You could tell he loved it, by the way he slung his arm across the back of the couch, running his fingers through his hair every two seconds – the stance was pure ‘come and get me’.
For a while Markie’s emotions played tug of war. Should he? Shouldn’t he? He decided in the end that he couldn’t make a move. No way, this Clarissa was a nice girl and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings. But if she should however make the move first then that was a different story…Markie crossed his fingers and at about midnight God answered his prayers.
“I’ve had enough of this place. How about we go get a nightcap?” Clarissa suggested, leaning over seductively. The more standoffish Markie was the more Clarissa seemed to want him. “We can grab a hot dog from the vendor outside.”
“Sure,” Markie said, not quite seeing the link between nightcap and hot dog, or was there a deeper meaning implied?
He clasped the hand offered and together he and Clarissa weaved like a centipede through the thick yet manageable crowd. There were no knocking drinks or stepping on toes here at the C-lounge but even still Markie was happy to make to the finish line. And that was when he bumped into Serena.
Chapter 16
Serena was not expecting this, to bump into Markie and thus the fall hurt all the more as she plummeted to earth.
“Hey,” she said, as she watched him drop the intellectual bimbo’s hand. Evidently it had suddenly become as scorching as a hot potato.
“Hey,” Markie replied in turn, his shock absolutely palpable. He reminded Serena of a chicken whose head had recently been chopped off, dying to run but unable to because it had no idea where to turn.
Before Serena could add anything else, the crowd from behind hinted their annoyance by pushing her forward, straight through the door. She let herself travel on that tide, only because it gave her time to smother her own shock and nausea and think of something more witty to say. Hey…what was she thinking? People said hey to the milkman dropping off the milk and postmen doing the rounds? But to a boyfriend who was frigging holding another girl’s hand, you said….
Serena paused, her mind going completely blank. She didn’t know what they said; she thought it was her prerogative to say nothing. She dared herself to turn back round, because even if she was speechless Markie had some explaining to do. But when she turned, all she saw were lots of backs of heads and little less. Just like that, with one poof of a magician’s smokescreen, Markie and the girl were gone.
“Oh God,” she muttered, leaning against the first saving grace column. So that was what it felt like to get a knife plunged straight into the heart. Temporary dizziness, an unsettled stomach, shortness of breath, they were obviously symptoms that went along with the territory. Maybe, just maybe, if she weren’t about to meet Jasper, it would have hurt a lot worse. Actually not maybe, but definitely so…Meeting gorgeous sweet Jasper who would never walk holding another girls hand (letting them shower in his house was the limit) helped to offset or buffer a bit of the pain.
But not all of it unfortunately; what this situation called for was an emergency best friend therapy session. Serena reached into her bag, fumbling through the lipsticks and condoms, while making gigantic I-Mean-Business strides to the toilets. Tabitha would know what to do; she’d only been in this situation about a thousand times before.
“Hello?” Serena called, cupping one hand over her ear. Not that it really helped; she still couldn’t hear a thing.
“Hello?” a faint Tabitha said back, “is that you Serena?”
“Yes, it is,” Serena sighed, immediately feeling as if three hundred and thirty three kilos has been lifted from her shoulders. “Oh Lord, you won’t believe what just happened.”
Before Tabitha could even say what? Serena hailed a thousand bullets of the military scale. He’s a bastard, a bloody bastard, holding another girls hand and now I can never even go back to him, even if I wanted to.
“I knew it,” Tabitha heaved five minutes later, when Serena had taken a break from the assault. “I knew he was a good for nothing prick. That’s it, you’ve got to break up with him, no more going back for sloppy seconds - you have your pride and dignity to maintain.”
“But I already have broken up with him!” Serena replied. In most cultures, a three-month break was just a nice way of saying good riddance pal.
“You have?” Tabitha exclaimed, sounding like another headless chook. “No Yosemite?”
“Yosemite? What are you talking about?”
Then it hit Serena, just as Jasper was making his sexy way towards her and she spied Rick on the couch, almost sitting in the lap of another slut.
“I’m not talking about Jasper; it’s Markie who did the dirty.”
“Oh.” Tabitha went quiet and then cleared her throat. “But that’s okay; you guys were already on the break.”
“Oh forget it,” Serena said, reaching for the red End button, for enough was enough. “We’ll speak about this later.” When your head is screwed on right and your blinkers are off.
God knew she might have to wait forever for that moment.
“Someone ruffle your feathers?” Jasper asked when he finally reached Serena and squeezed the tickly part of waist. Thank gawd someone up above had the decency and tact to lend her this knight in shining armor. Tonight of all nights she needed to have someone to kiss and cuddle. So what if it could be just about anyone with two arms and two legs?
The Numbers Game Page 16
