by Tara Hyland
‘What’re you getting all dolled up for?’ Danny came up behind Cara as she was applying her eyeliner in the dressing-table mirror, slipped his arms around her waist and cuddled her to him.
‘For work, stupid,’ she giggled.
‘But I’ve only just got in,’ he complained, nuzzling her neck. ‘Stay here and let’s fuck instead.’
She pulled a face at him in the reflection. ‘I can’t. If I’m late again, Ronan’ll hand me my cards.’
‘So? Tell him to stuff his sodding job. I’ll look after you, you know that.’
Cupping her breasts with his hands, Danny pressed up against her bottom, so she could feel how turned on he was. Despite her good intentions, Cara gasped, dropping the eye pencil onto the dressing-table with a clatter; she always lost control whenever Danny was around.
Aware of the effect he was having on her, he grinned triumphantly. ‘See? Isn’t this more fun than running yourself ragged in that shitty club?’
It was an argument they’d been having a lot lately. Danny wanted her to stop working at Eclipse – he felt that it took up too much of her time. Spoiled by his mother and his sisters, he was used to getting his own way, and that included having Cara at his beck and call. He expected her to be available whenever it suited him, and it didn’t matter if she’d arranged to do something else: whether it was going to work or seeing her own set of friends.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if there had been some structure to his life, because then she could have planned her own to fit in around him. But he’d come in at all hours of the day and night, and expect her to be available, no matter what her plans. Lately her job had become inconvenient to him, so he wanted her to give it up. So far she’d resisted, but it was getting harder to refuse. Danny had a way of getting what he wanted.
It had been his idea that she move into his place, only a week after they’d first slept together. She was there most of the time anyway, so it seemed crazy for her to go back and forth for changes of clothes. That was nearly a year ago now. Cara adored the flat, and loved setting up home with Danny. He found it amusing that she seemed so content to tidy the apartment and cook dinner every night. ‘I can get someone in to clean,’ he offered more than once. But what he didn’t seem to understand was that Cara liked doing it. She wanted to create a real home for them, something she’d never had in all her nineteen years. For the first time in her life, she felt settled, and that was a feeling she liked.
The only person Cara felt a bit bad about was Annie. Danny’s mother didn’t approve of them living together without being married. Not that she’d said anything, but Cara could sense how she felt. But it was hard to worry about that for too long. Danny was such a big personality – he consumed her in every way. She felt proud to be on his arm. People cleared out of her way and treated her with respect now. For someone who had spent so long being nothing, it meant everything.
Now, as Danny began to unbutton her dress, Cara felt herself giving into him, as he’d known she would. Pulling her mini-dress up a little, she hooked her thumbs into either side of her panties. If she was going to give in, she might as well be enthusiastic about it. Danny was always urging her to take more control, and this time she was going to give him what he wanted. Kicking her underwear to one side, Cara turned to face him. Perching up on the dressing-table, she allowed her thighs to fall open, and began to play with herself.
‘Hey!’ Danny’s dark eyes lit up approvingly. ‘That’s new.’
He’d asked her to do this before, but she’d always refused. She’d rather have gone over to the bed, and lain down together properly, but she knew Danny preferred it like this, something a little different. She’d learned to be inventive with Danny. He had a short attention span, and she knew however much he liked her, it wouldn’t take much to turn his head. At first, she hadn’t needed to worry, her innocence had been enough of a turn on for him. Most of the girls he’d known had been around the block a fair few times before he’d got to them. Cara had been different, totally unspoiled and eager to learn. After their first time together, he’d seen that she’d gone on the Pill, making her feel very much like a modern young woman. He had taken great delight in initiating her, teaching her how to please him, and helping her learn what she liked, too. But lately that novelty had worn off and she had to work harder to keep his interest.
As he watched her fingers darting in and out of herself, he groaned with anticipation, and Cara was pleased her efforts had been rewarded. She could see the length of him outlined through his jeans, straining against the material.
‘Do you want to play, too?’ she teased, reaching out to touch the denim, liking the way his cock reared up under her touch.
‘God, yes,’ he choked out.
As he hastily unbuckled his belt, she snapped open the buttons of his jeans. Taking the base of his penis, she guided him inside her, only taking in the tip while she moved one hand up and down the length in slow, sure strokes, just the way he’d shown her to. Gradually she increased the pace, feeling the growing heat of him against her palm, until he was able to stand it no longer. With a grunt, he grabbed her waist, and pulled her onto him, all the way up to the hilt.
‘How’s that, bitch?’ he demanded, as he pounded into her, each thrust pushing her back further on the dressing-table, until her bare spine was knocking against the cold, hard mirror. ‘Do you like the way my cock feels?’
Usually Cara hated his crude words, but today she was too intent on her own pleasure to notice, her hand working furiously between her legs as he continued to drive into her.
They came at the same time, Cara feeling her own orgasm pulsing through her seconds before Danny let out a bellow, signalling his own release.
For a moment, they stayed locked together, panting loudly, her legs wrapped around his waist, his head resting on hers, supporting each other as they caught their breath. As she stopped shaking, Cara’s arms tightened around Danny’s neck, hugging him close. She always liked this time the most – in the aftermath of sex, she felt closest to Danny. She was going to suggest going over to the bed to cuddle, but before she could, Danny pulled away a little. His dark eyes looked down at her adoringly, and she felt good about herself. Pushing her damp hair back from her forehead, he said approvingly, ‘That was hot.’
Cara basked in his praise. ‘I know.’
He gave her cheek an affectionate pinch. ‘Some guy’s going to really thank me for this one day.’
The words were like a fist in her gut.
‘Dan!’ she objected, pushing him away. Her eyes automatically filled with tears. She hated it when he did that – made cracks about them seeing other people. To her, this was meant to be for ever. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Seeing her reaction, he laughed. ‘Nothing, darling,’ he said dismissively. Grabbing his jeans from the floor, he began to pull them on.
Cara bit her lip to stop it trembling. ‘It didn’t sound like nothing.’
Danny sighed irritably. If there was one thing he hated, it was women trying to emotionally blackmail him. ‘Christ, there’s no need to get out of your pram. I’m only messing with you.’
Knowing she was testing his patience, Cara forced a smile. ‘I’m sorry. I was just overreacting.’
But the moment had been ruined for her now.
‘Sorry!’
Ronan looked up from his desk to see Cara rushing by. He tapped his Rolex meaningfully, and she mouthed another apology. It was the third time she’d been late this week, and the Manager knew he ought to have a word with her. If any of the other girls had behaved that way, he would have sacked them by now. But he’d always had a soft spot for Cara. Maybe it was because he knew at heart she was a good person; some of the hostesses took the mick, but she’d never been like that. In fact, Cara had been the perfect employee – until she’d taken up with Danny Connolly.
Ronan hated seeing the way Danny was changing her. The guy was a parasite, and he was going to take what he could get
and then leave, Ronan was sure of it. But he knew there was no point in saying anything to Cara – she was so in love that she wouldn’t want to hear it. He just hoped Danny proved him wrong, and actually appreciated how lucky he was to have her.
Cara burst through the doors of the dressing room, pleased to have escaped a lecture from Ronan. She’d expected him to haul her into his office this time, but he’d let her tardiness slide again. However, while the Manager might have been soft on Cara, her fellow waitresses weren’t so forgiving. Walking into the dressing room, she could feel the other girls’ sharp eyes judging her.
‘Late again?’ Mel observed.
Cara knew this was a big sticking-point with all of the other hostesses. They felt aggrieved that she came and went as she pleased, when they couldn’t.
‘I got caught up,’ Cara mumbled.
The redhead smiled sweetly. ‘Maybe Danny should think about getting a clock installed on his bedroom ceiling. That way, you might start making it here on time.’
As the other girls tittered, Cara felt herself blush. The jibe wouldn’t have hurt so much if it hadn’t been spot on.
‘Oh, leave it out,’ she shot back. ‘Just ’cos you got dumped, don’t take it out on me.’
The words were out of Cara’s mouth before she could stop herself. It was only a few short weeks ago that Mel had cried to her about breaking up with Tony, her boyfriend of six months. And now she was using that information against her friend. Cara knew it was unforgivable, but she’d been embarrassed that Mel had guessed the truth about where she’d been, and that had put her on the defensive.
But the truth was, Cara hated fighting with the other girls. She’d worked long and hard to cultivate these friendships. Now, all her work had been undone. And what made it worse was that she knew the blame lay mainly with her. Since getting together with Danny, she hadn’t been treating the girls very well. They’d been good to her when she’d needed them, and then as soon as she’d got a boyfriend she’d dropped them all. Whenever they asked her to go clubbing, she was always rushing off to meet Danny somewhere. But it was just what he expected, and she didn’t want to let him down. She was sure any one of the other girls would have done the same, given half the chance to be Danny’s bird.
The rest of the evening was awful. Mel was popular among the hostesses, and after news of the spat in the dressing room had got round, the other girls blanked Cara. Mel, who was in charge of assigning the tables, kept giving her the worst customers, the ones who were notorious for not tipping. At the end of the evening, unable to face getting changed in the dressing room, Cara simply put a coat over her costume and hurried home.
She got back to find Danny waiting up for her. He insisted on making her a cup of tea and a sandwich, and she sensed he was trying to make up for their earlier argument. Feeling relaxed, she made the mistake of telling him about what had happened at work.
‘That’s out of order,’ he said, once she’d finished. ‘Do you want me to have a word?’
‘No,’ she said hastily. That was the last thing she needed – Danny weighing in and frightening everyone into being nice to her. That would be even worse than the cold shoulders. ‘I can deal with it myself.’
He shook his head. ‘For the life of me, I don’t even get why you’re still there. How do you think it makes me look, you working in that dump? Everyone’ll be thinking I can’t provide for you.’
‘But you’ve gone out with plenty of other girls who worked there,’ Cara pointed out. ‘You never seemed to mind then.’
‘Yeah, well, I wasn’t as serious about them. I don’t like the thought of other guys leering over what’s mine.’
She liked the way he said that – mine – as though she belonged to him.
‘We’ll get wed one day, won’t we, Dan?’ she said impulsively.
He ruffled her hair. ‘Course we will, love.’
As they cuddled up on the couch, she felt better. She had Danny, and that should be enough for her. He was her family, her friends, her everything – it didn’t matter what anyone else thought.
The following day, Cara handed in her notice at Eclipse. Danny was delighted – he’d finally got what he wanted – and Cara found that she was happy, too. Before, she’d worried about what she would do without a job, but over the next few months she discovered a new occupation, one that took up all of her time: pleasure. It was something she’d had so little of in her life. Danny had no time for authority or convention; he believed in taking what he wanted when he wanted it. And Cara found it wasn’t such a bad way to live.
With her new free time, she started hanging out with the girlfriends of Danny’s business associates. Most of them didn’t have jobs either, and they spent their days on the King’s Road and Carnaby Street, shopping in Biba and Mary Quant’s Bazaar, frittering away the fruits of their old man’s graft. Cara was more than happy to join them. She loved the new fashion for mini-skirts, which suited her long legs and lean body, and soon had a wardrobe stuffed full of clothes and shoes: among her favourites was a black and white minstrel shift dress, which she wore with a white PVC mac and matching flat-heeled, knee-high boots. Seeing the popularity of short-haired, androgynous Twiggy fuelled her confidence, and she faithfully copied the mod look of her style icon, even going to Vidal Sassoon and getting her unruly black hair shaped into a pixie cut, which highlighted her big eyes and strong features.
The new image wasn’t just for her benefit, though. It was all part of being Danny Connolly’s girlfriend. He liked getting dressed up in sharp Italian suits and going out on the town, with his little piece of eye candy on his arm. All Cara had to do was look pretty. They spent a lot of time at nightclubs, particularly Eclipse. Cara had felt uneasy going back there, after she’d left on such bad terms, but Danny had insisted.
‘It’s where all our mates meet up. You can’t hide away for ever,’ he’d told her. ‘Besides, no one’s going to say anything to you when you’re with me.’
The first night she’d gone in with him, she’d felt apprehensive, especially when Mel had been assigned to wait on them. But as usual, Danny had been right – Cara’s former friend had been scrupulously polite to them. And while Cara missed the banter she’d had with the other hostesses, she told herself it was just the price of being with Danny, and she knew which she’d rather have.
Although she no longer had a job, Cara liked to think her life wasn’t totally without purpose. She spent some time overseeing the redecoration of the apartment, bringing it fully up-to-date, with bold colours and streamlined furnishings. Sometimes she thought it was a shame that they hadn’t stuck to more conventional décor, something classic and understated, more in keeping with the building’s beautiful architecture. But Danny had vetoed that. ‘When people walk in here, I want them to know that I’ve arrived.’
If it bothered her a little that he referred to the flat as ‘mine’ rather than ‘ours’, still talked of ‘I’ rather than ‘we’, she tried not to let it get to her. Money and status were important to him in a way that they could never matter to her. And he was the one out earning now, not her.
Of course, sometimes Cara’s conscience nagged at her a little. She remembered how only two years earlier she’d been so proud of her job at the grocery store, balancing the accounts and taking deliveries, improving the filing system. Now, she had no purpose but pleasure. But if she ever felt guilty, she would swiftly remind herself that she’d had many hard years – she deserved a bit of fun now.
It was about six months after she’d given up her job at Eclipse that Cara came across the article – one of those tell-alls on the Golden Age of Hollywood. She’d seen it advertised on the front of Marie Claire, and hadn’t been able to resist picking it up. There had been a brief mention of her mother, naturally. It was one of those stories that always seemed to get dragged out – how Frances Fitzgerald, who for a brief moment had been a rising star of the silver screen, had ended up drunkenly crashing her car and dying in the ensuing expl
osion. There was a lot of innuendo, about an unhappy marriage, her erratic behaviour in the months leading up to her death and the mysterious circumstances surrounding the accident which had killed her.
As always, Cara wasn’t sure why she’d made herself read the article. Most of the time, she tried not to think about her mother. But lurking at the back of her mind, there was always a strange fascination with the woman who’d abandoned her, which every now and then needed to be satisfied. At the orphanage, during Saturday trips to the cinema, she’d occasionally had to sit through one of her mother’s films. It had never upset her. She’d always felt curiously detached – as if this glamorous creature on the screen had little to do with her. Even now, if there was a re-run of an old Frances Fitzgerald movie, she would go to watch it – always alone. She’d never mentioned the outings, not even to Danny. She wasn’t sure he’d understand. Frankly, she wasn’t even sure she did. Maybe it was the only way she could feel close to the mother who’d left her behind.
Cara closed the magazine and let it drop onto the floor. That was enough now. She didn’t want thoughts of her mother ruining her day. She’d spent a lovely morning shopping, and now lying here on the new white leather couch, with the afternoon sun streaming in to warm her face, she was feeling sleepy. She wondered if there was time for a nap before she went out with Danny that night . . .
Chapter Forty-three
London, June 1967
‘Excuse me, sir?’
Danny looked up to see Nina, one of the cocktail waitresses at Eclipse, smiling down at him. She’d only started the previous week, but already she had made quite an impression, mostly because she was built like the archetypal Playboy model. The club’s corseted uniform had been designed with girls like her in mind.
She bent over, giving him a full view of her cleavage. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’ Her voice was breathy and full of invitation.
Danny leaned back into the couch, enjoying the attention of the perky blonde. ‘I’ve already got a full glass. So what else did you have in mind?’
