Bad Girls

by Rebecca Chance

  Perfect. Skye’s lips curved into a little smile of triumph as his eyes opened again.

  ‘Baby! Why’d you stop?’ he pleaded.

  She lowered her head and nipped him with her teeth, just lightly, but enough for him to get the message.

  ‘Skye! Baby! Don’t stop!’ he begged. ‘You’re amazing . . .’

  ‘You got any condoms?’ Skye asked, rising from her knees.

  His face contorted in frustration. Wow, I thought I’d already seen every expression Joe had, up on the big screen. Turns out I haven’t. She grinned. I can’t wait to see what he looks like when he comes . . .

  ‘Dave said he’d score some for me,’ Joe panted. ‘Couldn’t get ’em tonight, though.’

  ‘I’ll just have to improvise,’ Skye said, turning away from him, smiling devilishly at him over her shoulder.

  ‘Oh God. I bet you’re damn good at that,’ Joe said fervently, as she backed in towards him, lifting her ass, lowering herself onto the tip of his cock, her hands braced on his thighs, feeling her way, getting her balance. ‘I bet you’re a fricking Olympic-level expert at improvising.’

  Skye smiled at him, her blue eyes dancing with enjoyment.

  ‘My favourite position,’ she said conversationally, moving her hips in tiny circles around the head of his dick, ‘is the reverse cowgirl. You like the reverse cowgirl, Joe?’

  He could barely talk now. All he could manage was a long moan of assent.

  ‘But then, I love to lap dance,’ she continued. ‘And, you know, it’s really good exercise for me. So this is what I like to think of as a combination of the two.’

  Into her bare back, Joe groaned something that sounded like: ‘You’re fucking killing me,’ as she finally relented and lowered herself onto him in one deep thrust, his big cock plunging all the way up inside her. She was dripping wet by now, had been dying to fuck him for what felt like hours, but she’d been determined to hold out till he was about to burst with frustration; both of them sighed a long ‘Aaaah!’ of utter and total satisfaction as their bodies joined, Skye grinding a corkscrew twist of her ass around him before she lifted and drove down on him again, and again, and again.

  There was nothing gentle, nothing restrained about what she did to him. They were both going to be sore tomorrow, and they were loving every minute of it. She was fucking his brains out, lifting right up so that the tip of his thick, hard cock was almost out of her, holding it for a split second and then driving back down, riding him, using him to get herself off in a way that was simultaneously totally selfish and something she knew men absolutely loved. Nothing they adored more than thinking you were working their cock like a big juicy dildo, treating them like a total sex object.

  And Joe’s cock was a miracle of nature. She’d been afraid he’d come almost as soon as she straddled him, shooting off without caring whether she’d joined him or not; but no, he could hold out for a long time, long enough for her to get where she was going. Plus, he fit her like he’d been made for her. There was a slight curve to him that hit right against her G-spot when she lined everything up just right; with every stroke, she ground her clit down on him, getting closer and closer, teasing herself now as well as him, making herself wait and wait until she couldn’t hold out any longer, her thighs beginning to tremble, her back arching, her lips clamped together so she didn’t scream the place down—

  Oh God Jesus God Jesus I’m coming so hard—

  Fireworks exploded between her legs. She spasmed around him, and as he felt her coming, his hands wrapped around the rails, giving him purchase; he thrust his hips up, driving his cock even further inside her, sending her into a series of further orgasms that crashed over the first one in such fast succession that she saw stars.

  For the next minute or so she almost passed out with pleasure. It was all she could do not to collapse on the floor. She drove her knuckles into her mouth, biting down on them, to stop her screaming aloud; her entire body was a mass of sensation, shaking with the aftermath of the most powerful orgasms she had ever had. Joe was a totally amazing fuck. And the power trip of knowing it was Joe Jeffreys inside her, Joe Jeffreys going crazy for her, had been unbelievable.

  I’m a genius, she thought dizzily, as her brain slowly began to assimilate the sensations pouring through her body. I mean, who fucks a world-famous, A-list movie star for the first time and deliberately doesn’t even look at him? How cool is that?

  She leaned forward, but her legs were so wobbly they buckled under her.

  ‘Don’t worry, I gotcha,’ Joe said into her ear, his voice warm with amusement, and she realized that his hands were round her waist, holding her steady. ‘Oh, and, baby – Skye?’ She felt him grin. ‘I owe you a new robe, OK? I kinda busted the belt of this one.’

  He’d pulled out of her just in time; she could feel his cock deflating gently against the small of her back, the heady smell of sex all around them. He rested his head on her shoulder, breathing deeply, as they reacclimated to a normal level of sensation. They were both drenched in sweat, his chest hairs rough against her skin.

  And yet it was weirdly cosy, which was the last word Skye would have thought she’d use to describe the aftermath of a hookup in a disabled toilet.

  Don’t get sentimental, she told herself swiftly.

  ‘Well, that wasn’t much good,’ she managed to mumble.

  ‘No, it was pretty crappy,’ Joe agreed, his grin deepening. He kissed her shoulder. ‘But, hey, practice makes perfect, right? I figure if we keep at it, we might get a little better at this.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Hey,’ Joe licked her earlobe, which sent a whole aftershock of shivers running through Skye’s body, ‘it’s worth a try, right?’

  Amber

  Amber had never talked so much in her life. Her throat was actually hoarse. Dr Raf handed her a glass of water, and dutifully she took it and drank it down. Putting down the glass on the coffee table, she looked up and met his eyes. They were the colour of deep, dark chocolate; she could have stared into them all day, losing herself in their depths.

  She’d said so much, but she hadn’t told Dr Raf everything. She couldn’t bear to. And that guilty knowledge made her blush and look down at the table again.

  ‘How are you doing, Amber?’ he asked gently. ‘You’ve been very brave, but I don’t want to tire you out.’

  ‘I’m OK,’ Amber said quickly. She might not be able to bare her soul to Dr Raf completely, but she didn’t want to leave his presence either. Here, in his office, just a coffee-table’s distance away from him, she could have reached out and touched him if she’d been brave enough. She could hear him breathe, smell that faint green-fern aftershave, sneak glances at him as he crossed one lean thigh over the other, or steepled his fingers together as he listened to her. The hairs on his forearms, his strong wrists, the way the folds of the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt caught on the swell of the muscles just below his elbows; she could sit happily here for ever, absorbing every detail of how he smelled, how he moved, how he talked.

  Not that he had done much talking in the last hour. He had simply listened, seeming completely engrossed by everything she had to tell him.

  ‘You’re still pretty weak,’ he observed, smiling at her. ‘You haven’t been able to keep much down for the last forty-eight hours.’

  Amber writhed in embarrassment as he continued: ‘That’s completely normal in opiate withdrawal. We have to make sure you’re hydrated, of course, and we’re giving you meds to smooth over the transition.’

  He looked at her compassionately.

  ‘From what you’ve just told me, your opiate use started when you were fourteen, and continued ever since, correct? When your mother gave you pills to calm you down on modelling shoots.’

  Amber nodded, her hair falling into her face. For the last two days, she’d been in the medical facility at Cascabel, racked with vomiting spasms. All she’d managed to do before this session with Dr Raf was brush her hair and apply
some tinted Carmex lip balm.

  Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she’d winced at how awful she looked. And yet as soon as she’d sat down in the armchair opposite Dr Raf, and met his steady dark gaze, she’d forgotten all about her appearance. Nothing really mattered, as long as she was in the same room as him.

  ‘And your mother’s in LA as well,’ Dr Raf said, not making it a question. ‘Well.’ He looked down at his notes. ‘It’s early days, of course. But we’ll have to strategize for your recovery. Make sure you don’t slip back into old habits.’

  He’s being so tactful, Amber thought, her heart filling with gratitude at how carefully he was protecting her feelings, but I know exactly what he means.

  ‘She did it for the best,’ she blurted out, raising her head. ‘Matka only thought she was helping me. Because I was so frightened on those magazine shoots.’ She remembered the fashion editors, poking and prodding her, digging pins into her, fixing clothes around her with bulldog clips, commenting loudly on her shortcomings as she stood there, shaking like a leaf. ‘If Matka hadn’t given me the pills, I couldn’t have done it. And I had to do it! We couldn’t go back to Margate!’

  She swallowed. ‘Matka had put all her money into getting us to London, going round the model agencies. I had to be a success. I was booking all these jobs, and I had to make them work.’

  Memories of the last night in Mayfair flooded into her mind, and her throat clenched, but she pushed on.

  ‘She’d been working as a prostitute,’ Amber mumbled, forcing herself to keep looking at Dr Raf, seeing nothing but sympathy in his eyes as she continued: ‘For years and years. All that time, I thought she was out cleaning offices, but she was . . .’ She swallowed. ‘That’s why she was so desperate for me to make it as a model. Anything was better than that.’

  She was twisting her fingers in her lap now, noticing that the nail polish was chipped beyond repair.

  ‘Everything she did – everything – it was all for me,’ she insisted. ‘I’ve always known that. She wanted to give me a better life. And maybe I was a bit young, but lots of girls start young nowadays.’

  Dr Raf nodded neutrally. ‘When did you find out how your mother had been earning her living?’ he asked gently.

  In a tiny voice, Amber admitted, ‘The night I . . .’ She hesitated, but Dr Raf didn’t rush her into anything; he sat there as quietly as ever. ‘The night I took too many pills.’

  ‘Your accidental overdose,’ he prompted.

  ‘It was. An accident, I mean.’ She reached up and pushed back her hair, all vanity forgotten, utterly earnest with the need to convince Dr Raf that she hadn’t meant to kill herself. ‘I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m sure it was an accident! I just wanted everything to stop for a while. Not for ever.’

  Her green eyes looked straight into his for a long, dizzying moment. And it was Dr Raf who blinked first, who lowered his head, breaking the contact. He looked down at his notes again, making a procedure of flipping through the pages, recrossing his legs.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘is your boyfriend aware of the extent to which you were dependent on prescription drugs?’

  ‘My . . .’ Amber flushed. ‘Tony?’

  He’s not my boyfriend! she wanted to blurt out, like a teenager with a desperate crush, determined to let the object of her affection know she was single. But if I tell Dr Raf that Tony’s not my boyfriend, then his next question will be why someone would pay all this money, fly me and Matka over the Atlantic, and put her up in a nice house and cover all my expenses here, if I’m not dating him . . .

  That was the truth she couldn’t confess to Dr Raf. It had been hard enough telling him about her mother’s past; there was no way Amber could admit that she, too, had done the same as Slava to make money. Slava might have been at the lowest end of the scale, standing on street corners, getting into cars or going down alleyways with strange men, while Amber was helicoptered to five-star hotels by multimillionaires who gifted her with Vuitton luggage, jewellery and lavish tips, but in the end, when you came down to it, Slava and Amber were exactly the same. They’d both had sex for money. That made them both prostitutes.

  Like mother, like daughter, Amber thought, tears pricking at her eyes. He’ll never look at me the same way again, if he knows the truth. I’ll never see that sympathy in his eyes.

  I can never tell him.

  Without realizing it, she had pushed the chair back and stood up. This time she was steady enough on her feet so that Dr Raf didn’t need to catch her.

  ‘I’m really tired,’ she said swiftly. ‘I need to go and lie down.’

  ‘Of course.’ He jumped up, a frown on his handsome face. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let our session run so long. It’s my fault. Get some rest, and I’ll see you at group tomorrow, OK?’

  They were face to face, the coffee table no longer between them. Without knowing what she intended, Amber put out her hand, reaching towards him, and his own hand rose to meet hers in response. Their fingers brushed against each other for a split second, a feather-light touch; definitely not the brisk handshake that might have been expected between doctor and patient at the end of a consultation.

  Dr Raf dragged his hand away as if it had been scorched, shoving it into his pocket as he stepped back from Amber, bumping into his chair. He cleared his throat loudly.

  Amber turned, bolting for the door. I’m such an idiot! she scolded herself. What was I thinking?

  And then she admitted as she fumbled with the door handle: I wasn’t thinking anything. I just wanted to touch him.

  She was frantic to get out, to escape from her own humiliation. But right on the other side of the door was the girl from the therapy session a few days ago, the sulky one with the bright yellow bob. Petal, she was called.

  ‘God! Finally! I’ve been waiting, like, hours,’ Petal spat at her crossly. ‘My appointment was ages ago!’

  Petal’s eyes were outlined heavily with black pencil; combined with the daffodil-tinted hair and her dead-white skin, it made her look like a Gothic doll. The resemblance was heightened by her ripped black leggings and stripy T-shirt.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Amber said.

  ‘You just hogged Dr Raf for ages! That’s totally unfair! And selfish!’ Petal complained angrily.

  ‘Petal!’ Dr Raf came up behind Amber. ‘I’m so sorry to keep you waiting . . .’

  Petal gazed up at him with big, adoring eyes.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said, her voice breathy now. ‘I know it’s not your fault.’

  And, pushing past Amber, Petal swanned into Dr Raf’s office, slamming the door shut behind her so sharply that Amber had to jump out of the way to avoid being hit by it.

  Back in their shared room, Skye was curled up on her bed. She was wearing a dressing gown, her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail and her face was bare of makeup; she looked fresh from the shower. Headphones were plugged into her ears, and a notebook was open on her lap. Amber had to stand in front of her, waving, before Skye realized that there was someone else in the room.

  ‘Oh, hey,’ she said, pulling out the earbuds, R&B flooding through them before she found her MP3 player and turned it off. ‘Feeling better?’

  ‘They say I’m over the worst of it,’ Amber said, sitting down on her own bed. ‘I hope so, anyway.’

  Skye grimaced. ‘Can’t have been much fun,’ she said sympathetically. ‘So, they moving you back into our room now?’

  ‘Yes – I just saw Dr Raf,’ Amber said, so infatuated that she got a little thrill each time she pronounced his name. ‘He said I was doing better.’

  ‘Ooh, Dr Raf!’ Skye grinned. ‘It was awesome when he carried you out of group. Dr Lucy was shooting daggers at you. And Petal was drooling in jealousy. I’m amazed she hasn’t pulled a faint herself.’

  ‘Oh God, Petal . . .’ Amber pulled a face. ‘She just yelled at me because my session with Dr Raf ran over. She really doesn’t like me.’

  ‘Well, what
do you expect?’ Skye said, laughing. ‘First you do a romance-cover faint, and then you postpone her Dr Raf fix! It’s the only thing she lives for at the moment! She follows him around like a little puppy! Have you seen the way she looks at him?’

  Amber nodded.

  ‘Major daddy issues,’ Skye said gnomically. ‘Believe me. I mean, her dad’s Gold. Everyone in the world’s got a crush on him, and from what she says, she’s barely ever been alone with him. That’s got to fuck you up.’

  Amber pulled a pillow off her bed and curled up with it in her lap, hugging it. Skye was already making her feel a lot better about the Petal confrontation.

  ‘Just stay out of her way,’ Skye advised. ‘She’s like an open wound right now.’

  ‘OK,’ Amber said. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Any time.’ Skye sighed, looking down at her notebook. ‘Dr Lucy told me to try some free association, but I’m totally sucking at it. You know? You write down whatever comes into your head? I’m so bored I actually gave it a shot, and all I’ve done for, like, an hour, is write, “La la la Get me out of here” over and over again. Look.’ She held up her open notebook so Amber could see.

  Amber couldn’t help cracking a smile. ‘You seem – I don’t know – normal,’ she said before she could think it over. ‘I mean, you seem like a – a happy person. Not like me and Petal.’ She reflected. ‘Or those other guys in group. Not Joe. You’re like Joe – you both seem . . . happy.’ She felt very inarticulate. ‘I suppose I’m saying that I’m really fucked up. And I can see that most of the other people here are. But you don’t seem fucked up. At all.’

  ‘Interesting,’ Skye said, looking at Amber hard. ‘Dr Lucy thinks what she calls my “cheerful façade” is just a cover-up for all kinds of deep-buried crap.’

  ‘But it isn’t, is it?’ Amber said, without knowing why.

  ‘Ha!’ Skye burst out laughing. She leaned over, holding her palm out flat to Amber, who took a moment to realize she was supposed to high-five the other girl. ‘No, it isn’t! You’re smarter than Dr Lucy! And you know what?’ She snapped shut the notebook and dropped it onto the floor. ‘You’re right about Joe too.’ She grinned saucily. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that man either.’