Substitute

by Rey, Isobel

  She parted her legs and closed her eyes. She pictured Nathan, tried to recall the masculine smell of him misted with his aftershave. She had felt the firmness of his body when he’d held her and she longed to feel it again. She tried to imagine him pressing against her as she brought the bullet down to touch her clit.

  Her thigh muscles twitched at the sharp shock it gave her. Too high! She had flipped it to max speed in her haste. She turned it down and it found its way back like a homing beacon to the gathering of nerves that longed to feel its angry vibrations.

  The buzz went through her from clit to core. She dipped her fingers in her wetness and rubbed the tips gently around her labia as the bullet speeded on. She pushed up the speed, a little more – then a little more.

  She pictured Nathan, the way he uncoiled from the car, his long legs, long, strong thighs. She wondered how it would feel to wind her own thighs around his, naked, hot, raw.

  She dug her heels into the bed, lifting her knees and arching her back. A little more – a little higher.

  She imagined the muscles in his thighs flexing and tensing as he lay on her, looking down at her. Looking into her.

  Her eyes flew open; even in her own imagination the sight of his eyes boring into her sent a stomach-rippling surge of shock through her.

  She picked up her head and propped herself up on her elbows. She had positioned herself on the bed opposite a long wall mirror. There she was, splayed open, silver toy in her glistening, wet hand, her swollen pink labia, framed by damp blonde curls, quivering.

  The sight of her own sex shocked her. She stared at it for a moment. This is what Richard saw, she thought. And the memory of his gaze before he plunged his tongue into her sent her fingers searching for the speed button. More, more, more …

  Almost before she knew it the bullet was speeding at maximum again, at first so shocking, but now so thrilling. She rode the waves, desperate for release.

  ‘Oh God, Nathan!’ she moaned out loud as a crashing orgasm bucked her hips and she jammed the bullet against herself. The contractions ran through her, each one a small wave hitting a shallow beach, hitting the sand then raking its way back.

  She lay back and threw her arms over her head, panting. She snapped the bullet off; it had done its job. It took a while for her breathing to come back to normal. She pulled her legs together and felt the wetness on her thighs.

  She stood up and looked at her reflection. Not so pale now. Her face was pink and flushed. Is this my just-been-fucked-face? she thought. If only. How would she look if she had really been taken? She didn’t know; it had never really happened.

  She walked into the bathroom and splashed her face with water. She had rarely felt more fragile than at this moment. She had to find some inner confidence; she had to show Tony that she was not to be toyed with and show Nathan she could do her job. Whatever else he thought of her, she would make sure he could find no fault with her work.

  It was 6.15, only 45 minutes to get ready for dinner. She had just enough time to shower, and get ready to meet the players.

  When she was done, she applied her make-up, lining her eyes a little more heavily than usual; a little more smokiness to bring out the blue. She arranged her hair in a loose up-do and pulled on the dress she’d brought with her for the evening. It was another Romy hand-me-down, but it was beautiful. A dark royal blue bodycon dress that skimmed her body and gave her an hourglass silhouette. Just formal enough to appear business-like, just sexy enough for dinner. She slipped her feet into her heels, applied one more swipe of lip gloss, and grabbed her key and phone. It was 6.55.

  Alexia made her way down to the dining room. Guests were milling around, and many cast an admiring look as she passed them. But her focus was completely on staying serene. She was desperate not to look afraid or out of place.

  She walked into the dining room and there was Nathan. Her clit still tingled from an hour ago, and the sight of him sent another rush right through her. Was it possible he looked even better than he did earlier? He had changed into a dark suit and was talking to their three Premier League clients, Iorizzo, Lopez, and Carsten, the new faces of the world’s sexiest aftershave.

  They were typical top flight footballers. An Italian, an Argentinian and a German … Peacocks all. Watches that cost more than Nathan’s car and designer suits that hugged their gym-honed bodies. All finished off with hair gel, diamond ear studs, and eyebrows groomed with designer gaps.

  But standing next to Nathan they looked like boys, boys who were trying too hard to impress. The body language was clear. He was the alpha in the room. He wasn’t much older than them but, despite their fame and the adulation that followed them, they were seeking his approval.

  She heard a low, quiet whistle behind her, then felt a hand brush up her back. It sent a wave of heat up her spine that almost melted her composure.

  ‘You certainly scrub up nice,’ said Tony. He walked in front of her, wearing his wolfish grin.

  ‘Stop it!’ She almost spat the words at him.

  ‘You’re right, of course. This is work, absolutely, although – we might find a convenient cupboard later!’ He flashed his eyebrows, then sauntered off to join Nathan and the players.

  Alexia steamed quietly. He was infuriating. She didn’t even like Tony, he was arrogant and cocky. But he had a knack of turning her on. She stood in the room, unsure what to do. Should she walk up to them, or should she wait for Nathan? No, that would be ridiculous, he was her boss.

  Her turmoil must have been evident, as a beautiful, dark-skinned woman walked up to her and said, ‘Are you Nathan’s new PA?’

  Alexia felt a flood of relief that someone had saved her from her very obvious isolation.

  ‘Yes, yes, I am.’

  ‘Sonia Varma,’ said the woman, extending a perfectly manicured hand. ‘Chief financial officer for the brand.’

  ‘Oh! Good to meet you.’

  Sonia could see Alexia’s discomfort and smiled warmly. ‘Come and sit with me at dinner. The boys will be swapping stories all night. They’ll only be interested in us later, when they’re a bit more tanked!’ she said.

  She escorted Alexia to a table and they sat down.

  ‘You been with Nathan long?’ asked Sonia.

  ‘No, no, just a couple of weeks, but I’m only on this trip because his PA is ill. I’m just filling in.’ Alexia realised she’d bitten her lip at the end of the sentence.

  ‘Don’t worry. Nathan always makes sure these things run like clockwork. You’re just window dressing, really, once all the arrangements are in place. Hotels like these never let anything go wrong.’

  ‘Oh good.’

  Alexia exhaled, relieved to have found a safe companion for the evening. ‘Do you know Tony as well?’ she asked. ‘He’s looking after the players.’

  Sonia laughed. ‘Looking after them … Well, yes he is! He’s as bad as they are, of course. They all party hard, this lot. But then that’s why he makes a good babysitter. He gets them what they want and he joins in, but he keeps it behind closed doors.’

  ‘Oh. I don’t think Nathan approves.’

  ‘Hmm. Well, he doesn’t join in, certainly.’

  Alexia looked at her.

  ‘So many ladies have tried to land the white whale. You know all the women call him that, don’t you?’

  ‘I’d heard.’

  ‘Mmm. I think it’s partly the thrill of wanting what you can’t have. He keeps his sex life very quiet, so no one can ever use it against him or play him. Clever guy, cleverer than most. But don’t think he’s a prude. Look at him, he’s all man.’

  Alexia was silent. She followed Sonia’s eyes to Nathan. He was chatting to the footballers but, as if some unseen thread had twanged between them, he looked up, straight at her. She felt a surge through her cunt and that tell-tale warmth in her pussy that betrayed approaching wetness.

  Sonia was watching Nathan. ‘But then again, perhaps he likes ash blondes.’ She smiled as she swept the last
word over Alexia.

  Alexia flushed, wishing the aching in her loins would subside.

  Sonia bent her head low and whispered, ‘If he is interested, are you ready for that tiger in your bed? I don’t imagine he’s the standard shag.’

  The sudden intimacy of the conversation with a total stranger made Alexia’s head swim. But she didn’t correct Sonia. She didn’t deny that Nathan had shown interest. She gave the woman a half smile, then looked back at him. But his attention was now elsewhere. Looking in her direction was Tony, who appeared to be pointing her out to the footballers.

  ‘Oh my God!’ said Alexia, realising that she had lent voice to thought, a little too loudly.

  Sonia giggled. ‘My, my. Well, if you want a fun night, you’ve certainly got your pick, but be careful –’ she tapped Alexia’s arm ‘– unless you like spit roast!’

  Waiters appeared behind them, but Alexia was confused. Her eyes settled on the first plate, foie gras, then darted to the menu card. Salmon. What did Sonia mean, spit roast?

  The food was exquisite, and Alexia managed to relax a little to enjoy it. The others at their table were from the sponsor’s company and the talk was general, and a little boring; about sport, and who was doing a deal with who. Then the conversation turned to who was doing who, which was a good deal more interesting, and shocking. In the last few weeks, Alexia had come to learn that she had entered a world where sex was used as a currency, but the frequency of exchange still shocked her.

  She stole glances at Nathan but he remained deep in conversation, seemingly oblivious to her presence or proximity. But Tony was very well aware of it. He kept throwing lascivious glances as he swallowed glasses of the rich red wine.

  She realised she’d been silent for most of the meal, listening to the gossip, which meant she was drinking her wine a little too quickly. The coffee arrived and she poured a cup and downed it as swiftly as its temperature allowed.

  The diners rose to leave.

  ‘Drink at the bar?’ asked Sonia.

  More alcohol would not be a good idea, but she needed company.

  ‘We won’t see much of the boys tonight.’

  ‘Won’t they be coming to the bar too?’ asked Alexia.

  ‘The execs might, but not the soccer boys. They’ll have other entertainments planned, almost certainly.’

  The two women adjourned to the bar and seated themselves on tall stools. Sonia ordered whisky sours. ‘They’ll help you sleep,’ she said.

  Alexia didn’t think she’d need help after the wine.

  ‘I have to say,’ said Sonia after a large gulp, ‘you’re not the usual type.’

  ‘Usual type for what?’ asked Alexia tasting the drink. She’d never had a sour; its tartness played with her tongue.

  ‘For this kind of industry, the sport/showbiz world. You seem too real.’

  ‘Real? I don’t understand.’ Alexia took another gulp.

  ‘Well, most of the girls who work in agencies like yours are after something. They want to bag themselves a footballer, or hang with the fast crowd. They’re either über-manicured gym bunnies or posh girls who like to ride the men as hard as they ride their horses. They’re all ambition – for the men, that is, not a career. But you …’ Sonia regarded her. ‘I like you. You actually might have some substance.’

  Alexia laughed. She liked Sonia too. She was blunt, but she was funny and kind.

  ‘I can see why Nathan would want you to work for him,’ she continued.

  At the mention of Nathan’s name Alexia felt a skip in her stomach. ‘Why?’ she asked, desperate for an answer from someone who seemed to understand him.

  ‘He’s a really good guy, which is bloody rare in this business; they’re all either peacocks or piranhas. Or both! But Nathan, he’s not called the white whale for nothing. I wonder if he knows that’s what he’s known as?’ Sonia laughed to herself. Then she became serious again. ‘What I’m trying to say is he must get so tired of the women who flock round him. I’m sure he’s had his fun like any guy, but sometimes you know when a man is looking for something more. And if Mr Fallon was ever a “flirt, fuck and go” man, he’s certainly grown out of it.’

  Alexia was hanging on to Sonia’s every word. She heard a familiar voice from the archway into the bar. She looked round to see Nathan bidding goodnight to some of the sponsors. He looked up and caught her eye. Her stomach flipped again and her pussy yielded up that now obligatory drop of moisture that seemed to follow every stolen glance of him. He tipped his head to her and was gone.

  Sonia was watching. ‘If you do want to catch him for yourself, be careful, Alexia. I don’t think that big fish will be easily reeled in.’

  Alexia looked back at her new friend and downed her remaining whisky.

  Chapter Eight

  Alexia had just reached her room when her phone pinged. She looked at her texts. Tony’s name leapt out from the screen.

  Need you in Clarenden suite ASAP. Problem with arrangements.

  At this time of night? She’d been so careful to nail everything down; she’d gone through the snag list over and over. She couldn’t believe there was a problem. The last thing she wanted or needed was to be forced to speak to Tony tonight. Clarenden was Iorizzo’s suite.

  She turned on her heel, went to the wing of the hotel that housed the plush suites, and looked for the name next to the door. She passed Ashbourne. That’s where Nathan is, she thought, a pang of regret and wanting flooding her instantly. The carpet was very deep on this side of the hotel; every inch of it screamed luxury and privilege. She kept walking, her feet barely registering a noise on the thick wool. There it was, Clarenden, the word on a small, discreet nameplate to one side of the oak-panelled door.

  She cleared her throat, she wasn’t sure why; a reflex action. Even the tiny sound seemed too loud for the quiet corridor. She knocked. Nothing. She knocked again. Still nothing. She didn’t want to hammer on the door. She looked at the nameplate. She had the right suite, so she texted Tony.

  Am outside, you’re not answering!

  She waited, her foot jiggling with frustration and nerves. Then the door swung open. Tony seemed slightly flushed and there were raucous noises coming from deep within the suite.

  ‘Ah!’ he said, and reached forward to grab her arm. Before she had time to object she was pulled into the suite, the door shutting firmly behind her.

  ‘What’s going on? You said there was a problem with the arrangements.’

  The suite was enormous; they appeared to be standing in a small hallway that led into other rooms. She couldn’t see the revellers, but it was clear from the cheers that the footballers were having a good time.

  ‘There was a problem. You weren’t here, that was the problem!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, you see, there’s something I think you should see …’

  ‘Tony?’

  He smiled. That worried her.

  ‘Let me put it into context for you.’

  Alexia knew something was wrong, but she couldn’t quite work out what it was. She sensed he was playing a game, and one he was good at.

  ‘Remember how we first met …?’

  Tony let the thought hang in the air. He knew he was conjuring up the image of his own thrusting buttocks and Phillipa’s flailing legs, the image he knew Alexia was only too well acquainted with.

  Alexia was gritting her teeth now. ‘What about it?’

  ‘Well, as it seemed to put such a flush in your cheeks I thought there was something else you might need to watch …’

  He tugged her arm, trying to pull her deeper into the suite, but she resisted and turned away.

  ‘Let me go, Tony, I’m going back to my room.’

  ‘I really wouldn’t go out there just now if I were you.’

  Alexia rounded on him. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I saw Nathan go back down to the bar a moment ago. I think he was looking for you.’

  Surprised, she stared at Tony. He
had no idea what had passed between her and Nathan, or had he guessed? Was he telling the truth?

  ‘So?’ she demanded, trying to sound as unconcerned as she could.

  ‘Well, as you’re here, not there, he’ll be coming back any minute, and you don’t really want him to see you coming out of this suite, now do you?

  The realisation hit her like a slap. Tony had trapped her; she felt the blood drain from her face. He employed his best disarming smile.

  ‘Don’t look like that! Like I said, there’s something I think you might like to see, then you can go. Won’t take long.’

  Alexia had no real choice. She stood rooted to the spot, but as Tony took her hand to lead her forward she felt her legs start to move obediently.

  The noise and music from deep in the suite grew louder as Tony took her through into a small, dark room. He closed the door behind them. Then she saw it: an internal window looking straight into the master bedroom.

  There were Iorizzo and Lopez, either end of a girl who was on all fours on a huge bed. Carsten was sitting on a chaise longue, two more girls draped over him. One was playing with his erection. They were all naked.

  ‘Two-way mirror,’ Tony explained. ‘It’s one of the reasons the big stars like to party here, and why the hotel can charge criminal sums of money. Good, isn’t it?’

  Alexia’s eyes were fixed on the bed. Iorizzo knelt on it in front of the girl, his erection pointing at her mouth. Lopez was standing behind her, holding her hips, his erection pointing at her pussy.

  The girl was about to be skewered from both ends and she clearly couldn’t wait.

  ‘Spit roast,’ whispered Alexia, remembering Sonia’s remark at dinner.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Tony. ‘Hey, the fun’s about to start, so you might as well enjoy the show, seeing as how I know you like to watch.’

  Alexia barely heard his words. She knew she should make her escape but her feet were fixed to the spot. Tony was close behind her, and she could feel his breath on her neck.