All the killer would have had to do to win Cocoa’s undying love was to give him a treat on arrival.
I set Cocoa down and progressed slowly into the apartment, Roger beside me. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and then put it back and grabbed a rolling pin.
‘Less messy,’ I whispered. The truth was while I didn’t mind the thought of hitting someone over the head with a rolling pin I couldn’t fathom the thought of sticking a knife into them. I mean that would really hurt.
I have screwed up ethics, I know.
The advantage of living in such a small apartment was that there were fewer places to search. Once we’d checked the four corners of the living area and the bathroom we were pretty much done. The mezzanine floor that housed the bed was totally visible from the lounge.
Cocoa was making friends with Roger, snuffling around his legs and whining.
‘That was a joke about the attack training wasn’t it? Roger asked.
‘Nope.’
‘So if I said attack he would?’ He watched Cocoa warily.
‘Yes, but you have to say it like you mean it.’
‘Attack,’ he said, in a loud voice.
Cocoa snarled and leapt at Roger, attempting to fasten his teeth onto his forearm.
‘Release,’ I shrieked in horror.
He stopped his attack and sat, wagging his tail and waiting for a treat.
‘Jesus,’ Roger said, ‘I thought you were joking.’
‘Are you okay?’ I grabbed his arm to inspect it. An electric shock raced up my fingers and all of a sudden I wanted to touch his skin in a totally different way.
‘He didn’t hurt me,’ he said softly.
I let go of his arm before I could make a fool of myself. ‘I need to change,’ I said, backing away from him.
I grabbed a clean shirt from my wardrobe and hurried into the bathroom. The blood had seeped through the cotton of my top and onto my bra and stomach. Sighing I went back to grab a new bra.
‘I need a shower,’ I told Roger. He was sitting on the couch with Cocoa jammed against his thigh, idly stroking Cocoa’s coat. The sight of that didn’t help me at all. It was possible, apart from an inability to wash his own coffee cup, that Roger was the perfect man; I just didn’t know what to do about it.
The shower water felt great against my body as I soaped off the blood. Of course half way through I realised that Roger was on the other side of the very thin wall and all of a sudden a cold shower would have been more beneficial. I was drying myself off when he knocked on the door.
I wrapped myself in a bathrobe and opened the door wide enough to speak. His face was at the door opening and suddenly I found myself so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. I froze. A few seconds passed, neither of us moving and then he lifted a hand and touched my face. His eyes softened as he stared into mine, and then he pulled the door open, gathered me to him and kissed me.
It started as a slow kiss; our lips stroking tantalisingly over each other’s. My mind was whirling, unable to believe that it was getting what it had craved. I parted my lips, tasting him with my tongue and he tightened his hold on me, moving one hand from my face, down the robe to the small of my back.
The kiss deepened. Sensation left all parts of my body except those he touched; my lips, my face, the length of my body that he pressed against. All I could feel, all I could smell, all I could hear, was him. He turned me, pressing my back against the wall, leaning into me as he ravished my lips and my mind.
The kiss quickened. His other hand trailed softly down my neck, along my collar bone and then it stopped at the edge of my robe. I pressed against him, eager for him to feel more of my skin, more of me. Finally, his hand slipped under the edge of my robe and trailed down the bare skin of my belly and then back up to the curve of my breast.
I moaned against his mouth and felt him stiffening in response to the feel of me. His hand caressed the skin of my breast, brushing lightly over my nipple. I pulled up his shirt and ran my hands down his chest, pausing at the feel of his bandages.
‘It’s okay,’ he whispered, moving his mouth from my lips to my neck.
The feel of him on me, touching me, kissing me, it was more intense that I could have imagined. I was gone. I was his to do whatever he wanted to, for however long he wanted to. And I was hoping he was going to take a very long time.
Just as his other hand was pushing my robe out of the way I heard a knock at the door. He started to pull away.
‘Ignore it,’ I said urgently, pulling his mouth back to mine.
He did, for a second but then he pulled away again and smiled. ‘I was going to tell you, before you distracted me, that the boys were on their way up to interview you.’
I pouted and started to cover myself but he put a hand out to stop me. Looking down at my half-open robe he shook his head. ‘I should arrest you for being too desirable.’
The hoarseness of his voice excited me as much as his hands had and I felt my nipples hardening. His breathing quickened as he watched them respond. His lips parted slightly and then he bent his head and took one in his mouth. I arched back against the wall as he caressed me.
The knocking on the door became more persistent. ‘Tell them to go away,’ I growled, reaching for the top of his pants. I undid the button and zip and pushed them down, wrestling them over his enormous erection.
He paused and winced, pulling away from me and looking down at his stomach. Blood had seeped through his bandages and shirt.
‘Christ,’ I said, staring at it. ‘Oh Roger, I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ he said, pulling me back to him.
‘We can’t,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’ My body was on fire for him, yearning to have him touch me again, but I pulled the robe shut and stepped away from him. ‘Not till you’re better,’ I said.
He ran a hand through his hair in apparent frustration. ‘I can’t open the door like this,’ he said, gesturing at himself.
It was an awfully impressive erection. ‘Pull up your pants,’ I said in my sternest voice, ‘and go open that door before they come to the conclusion we’re both dead.’
I pushed him out of the bathroom and locked the door so I could dress in privacy.
Christ . I didn’t know how I was going to appear even slightly normal in front of the others. I should have been hysterical or in shock, not totally turned on. Hopefully they would confuse my flushed cheeks with signs of anger.
By the time I was dressed Roger had advised Mark and Nathan that I had been helping him with his investigations on the Cross Killer and that it was possible the dead bunny was a message from him. There wasn’t really any more information I could give them.
They left shortly afterwards and as soon as the door had shut Roger pulled me into him, kissing me hungrily. Jeez, the man was the King of Kissing. I’m not sure if it was the way he moved his lips, or if they just happened to be a perfect fit for mine, but when he kissed me I became dizzy and disorientated. I felt like one of the actresses in the old black and white movies, swooning at his touch.
The only thing that gave me the strength to stop was the sight of the blood on his shirt.
‘Stop,’ I said, as he lifted up my blouse and undid my bra. ‘We can’t.’
He stopped and looked at me, panting slightly. Seeing him pant nearly undid me. I mean I didn’t want him to stop till we were both naked and sweaty and sated. But he was hurt.
‘Not until you’ve healed,’ I said, doing up my bra.
Now that we had crossed the line I knew it would be impossible to be alone in private without us trying to jump each other’s bones. ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘I’ll take you home.’
‘What about the car?’
‘Feel like going through a car wash.’
His face lit up with a naughty smile.
‘Forget it,’ I said, ‘I’ll call you a cab.’
11
Comedy - Thy Name Is Chanel
I was putting the finishing touches to m
y make-up when I heard the knock on my front door. I wasn’t taking any chances since the bunny incident so I checked the peephole to make sure it was Martine and Ronnie before I opened it.
The three of us were walking to the club together. Mum was already there making last minute touches to the stage decorations. The judges from Las Vegas would be there tonight to mark their performance and she was leaving nothing to chance.
‘Woo woo,’ Martine said, looking me up and down. Then she clutched her stomach and sprinted for my bathroom.
‘She’s got the trots,’ Ronnie informed me, moving a bit closer. ‘I love that colour on you.’
I was wearing a teal green dress with black high heels. ‘The shop assistant said it made my eyes pop.’
She moved closer and gazed at my face. ‘That’s not all it makes pop,’ she purred.
She ran her hand down my dress and then back up to the bodice. We stood like that for a few seconds before I said, ‘Ahh Ronnie, your hand seems to be on my breast.’
‘Oh silly me,’ she said. But she didn’t move it.
Martine staggered out of the bathroom still clutching her belly. ‘Ronnie,’ she barked, ‘leave Chanel alone.’
Ronnie pushed out her lower lip but she took her hand away and moved to the lounge.
‘Sorry love,’ Martine said, ‘she still likes girls.’ Her eyes widened and then she backed back into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.
I moved over to sit on the far end of the lounge from Ronnie. ‘So does that make you gay or straight?’ I said.
‘Straight… I think.’ She burst out laughing.
‘How long has Martine had the trots?’
‘All afternoon. She had prawns for lunch.’
I walked over to the bathroom trying to ignore the noises coming from within. ‘Martine,’ I yelled, ‘there’s some Imodium in my vanity bag under the sink. Take a couple.’
She emerged a few minutes later, looking pale and sweaty. ‘Geez those tablets are big.’
‘They’re capsules,’ I said.
‘The two big tablets in the side pocket of your vanity.’
‘In a box marked Imodium?’
‘No by themselves.’ She slumped on the couch moaning gently. ‘Hope they work fast.’
I ran into the bathroom and grabbed my vanity bag, searching frantically through its contents.
‘I think they are going to work faster than you’d like,’ I said, coming back into the lounge. ‘They weren’t Imodium.’
‘What were they?
As if on cue there was a soft ripping noise and Martine let out a yelp of pain. Her tight lycra skirt started to move of its own accord, rising into the air till it stood like a tent with its pole fully erect.
‘Viagra.’
‘Ahhhhh,’ she shrieked, trying to push the tent down. It popped straight back up at full attention.
Ronnie pointed at Martine’s erection and started to laugh. Tears rolled down her face as she gasped and chortled. Martine put her hands over it and turned to the side, but the floor lamp cast a long shadow on the wall next to her, amplifying the size of our problem.
‘Stop it, oh stop it,’ Ronnie screeched, beating her leg with her hand.
I couldn’t help it; I started to laugh as well. The more she tried to hide it, the worse it got. I collapsed on the couch next to Ronnie, howling with laughter.
‘It’s not funny,’ Martine cried.
‘I know it’s not.’ Tears ran freely down my cheeks.
‘Brings a whole new meaning to pole dancing doesn’t it?’ Ronnie said. She really wasn’t helping the situation.
‘Maybe we can strap it down,’ I suggested.
‘It was strapped down.’
‘How much did she take?’ Ronnie asked.
‘Two hundred milligrams.’
‘I’m screwed,’ Martine said, sitting down on the couch.
The sight of her fully blown erection pushing up through the lycra was too much and Ronnie and I started laughing again.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, wiping tears away, ‘I know this isn’t funny.’
‘It is too,’ Ronnie said.
Martine turned to me and clutched my hands. ‘You have to do it,’ she said.
‘Do what?’ I asked.
‘The pole dance. I can’t go out there like this.’
‘Heelllooo boys,’ Ronnie said.
‘I can’t do it,’ I said.
‘Yes you can. You know it.’
‘Knowing and doing are two different things.’
‘Please,’ she said, clutching my hands. ‘Please.’ Tears welled up in her eyes and she started to cry. It wasn’t pretty. ‘You have to, you have to.’
She was working her way steadily towards hysteria and it was going to take forever to fix her make-up.
‘What about Mum?’
‘We need her down the front,’ Ronnie said.
‘Chaaannneeellll,’ Martine howled, ‘you have to.’
‘Okay,’ I said, more to placate her than anything. ‘We’ll see what Mum says. Maybe they won’t notice if you’re missing.’
‘You’ll do it if we need you?’ she said, staring into my face. Her false eyelashes had come loose and were drooping over her eyes.
‘Yes of course,’ I said, hoping to hell that they wouldn’t need me. ‘Now come on, let’s get you fixed up.
***
Mum stared at Martine’s erection. ‘Maybe you could wear a ruffled skirt,’ she said.
‘I won’t be able to climb the pole. It’ll get in the way.’
‘You’ll have to do it,’ she said, turning to me.
‘Me?’
‘You know the dance.’
‘I’ve never climbed the pole.’
‘You know the theory.’
‘It’s not that hard,’ Martine said.
A small smile formed on Bianca’s face. ‘It looks pretty hard from here.’
I looked at the tall shiny poles while trying to control the dizziness that was threatening to overcome me. My Mum wanted me to cut my pole dancing teeth in a competition? She was a maniac.
‘Do we need someone on that pole? I asked.
‘Yes, the competition minimum for any act is ten. We’ve only got nine without Martine.’
Great . Only nine other people for me to hide behind. ‘What about the other girls?’
‘They don’t know the routine like you do. Ronnie, can you take Chanel back and get her into a costume.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Martine said to my great relief. I still hadn’t forgotten the feel of Ronnie’s hand on my breast.
Ten minutes later I looked at myself in the mirror and said, ‘You’re kidding right?’
I was wearing a tiny sequined bra and matching lycra hot pants. They were bright pink.
‘It’s the only one that will fit you,’ Martine said.
‘You’re sure this isn’t some kind of payback?’
Martine smiled. ‘I haven’t even begun to pay you back.’
‘Great,’ I said, ‘one more thing to be worried about.’
‘Don’t be worried, you look hot.’
‘I’m worried about falling off the pole and getting a concussion.’
Mum was talking to the stage hand when we got back. She glanced over at me and said, ‘You need to do more sit-ups.’
‘Do you want me to do this or not?’
She laughed and turned back to her conversation.
‘I was thinking black and with a little more material, but hey, it’s your super hero costume.’
‘I’m not cat woman,’ I said to Bianca.
‘Nope, tonight you’re pole woman – saving a group of drag queens from certain disqualification.’
I would have laughed if I weren’t feeling ill. The stress of the last few days was catching up with me and my palms were sweating and my knees were trembling. Ahhh, who am I kidding? It had nothing to do with the last few days. I was shit scared about performing in front of a crowd of people.
‘Deep breaths,’ Martine said as she led me up to the stage. ‘So you start by walking around the pole once then you go into a fireman’s twirl.’
‘Can’t I just crouch down at the back so no-one can see me?’
‘Going to look pretty stupid when the rest of them are up the pole.’
I sighed. ‘So what comes after the fireman’s twirl?’
‘You tell me.’
I let the music play in my head. ‘Then a fan kick, and a spin and then into a front hook spin all the way to the ground,’ I said.
‘Right, that’s the easy bit. Then climb and climb and…’
‘Dying swan,’ I said.
‘Into a flying carpet and then slide down the pole. After that you freestyle – stalk around the pole and do the occasional spin. Ronnie will sing, and the front two rows will break off to dance so it’s just the three of you at the back still on the poles.
‘Anything else?’
‘Point your toes and smile.’
I stuck my tongue out at her but didn’t get a chance to say anything because the rest of the girls came onto the stage and took up their positions. Yikes. It was about to start.
I heard the chatter in the audience fade with the lights, until there was total silence. I concentrated on breathing as the curtain slid up; the bright lights almost blinding me as I stood in my high heels and slut outfit and smiled. And then the music began.
The irony of dancing to ‘I Will Survive’ was not lost on me. I strutted around the pole and did a fireman’s twirl and by the front spin to the floor I was almost enjoying myself.
That all stopped as soon as I started trying to climb the pole. I grasped it with my hands and jumped up as I’d seen the girls do, wrapping my legs and feet around it. It really hurt. I grasped further up the pole and pushed with my feet while I pulled with my arms. I didn’t go very far. I repeated the manoeuvre again and again, frantically inching my way up the pole. The girls were way ahead of me, almost at the roof, and I was visible through their legs as I huffed and puffed and pushed and pulled.
I could see Mum making climb faster actions, and then she may have made a you’re dead motion. That only made my hands start to sweat, and of course then I wasn’t going anywhere. I made a pretty good dying swan as I hung exhausted from the pole.
Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 01 - Cocoa and Chanel Page 15
