Aggie hadn’t known Megan was in town. She hugged some of the people, starting with Clara. Megan and Clara had been best friends for years, but had at some point fallen out. Still, they were closer than Aggie had ever been to the tall, gangly girl. Megan was alright; there was nothing wrong with her.
There had been a spot of discomfort in their relationship while Quentin had been seeing her shortly after his and Aggie’s breakup. There was an unspoken trust that had been broken. If they had been true friends, close friends, Megan would never have gone near Aggie’s ex, but the fact that she had signified they were more acquaintances than friends.
A guy was with her, wearing dark blue jeans and a linen jacket. He wore a headband, keeping brown locks out of his eyes. His hair wasn’t long as such, just a bit floppy, she guessed by its length. His gorgeousness hit her like a slow motion punch. After settling her gaze on his face, it was becoming clear he was stunning. Sharp, squarish jaw and cheekbones to die for, nice masculine brow and eyes that glittered with mischief.
Oh, wow, Aggie said to herself. This was not someone who’d been seen on the coast before. Must be one of Megan’s modelling friends. He was certainly pretty enough to be a model, maybe a little bit on the butch side for what they generally went for. Maybe built was in.
As he moved around, both Aggie and Felix rose to shake hands with him. His handshake was firm and warm, and he said a friendly hello and smiled. Lovely smile, again suggesting naughtiness.
“This is Ricky,” Megan said. “He’s a DJ and hopefully in the line-up at Shine.” Megan wrapped her arm around his waist possessively and Ricky looked comfortable there. They were obviously intimate.
His welcome to the group was worlds apart from Inns, who sat sulkily at the other end of the table. Compared to Ricky, Inns looked out of place in the clean, modern décor of the restaurant. No, Inns belonged back in England in some place that smelled like saddle soap and horse shit, maybe even mothballs.
She didn’t know quite what was wrong with Inns. He wasn’t strictly ugly, but he did a fantastic job presenting himself that way. Ricky on the other hand, was not here because he belonged here. He was here because he was gorgeous, probably ambitious and maybe talented.
Chapter 7
It was lovely to see everyone at lunch. Quentin wasn’t there and Megan had missed Alistair’s return, who she was told was off in Berlin of all places, chasing some girl. Those boys had always been prone to getting themselves into trouble. She loved catching up with them; things weren’t quite as bright without them here. Quentin would always be that one for her, the one she was sorry never worked out, but there was no use crying over something that didn’t work. He had never quite been hers, even when he officially had been. There was that barrier there and she could never get inside. It hurt that the next girl that had come alone had gotten past his defences and was firmly entrenched in his heart. Aggie had been, but she couldn’t hold onto him. Megan didn’t know why, although she had wondered for a long time.
Now they were on their way to Shine. Ricky drove, even though she had to tell him where to go. He was one of those guys who had to be the guy—had to pay, had to drive. She knew he didn’t have a lot of money, but he still insisted. It made things awkward, but a male ego had to be considered when it came to someone like Ricky. It was just the way he was.
They parked outside Shine and got out. It was early enough that parking was available without having to use the valet, which was good because the valet wasn’t there yet.
Taking his hand, she walked with him up the steps to the club. The music was pumping and Megan wondered what he heard with his more professional ear. For her, it was just music. It wasn’t really her thing. Adele was more her style. She got heartbreak. Dance music was just droning, but to him, there were likely nuances she would never understand.
A hostess was there, greeting them.
“We need to speak to Jesus,” Megan stated.
“He’s in his office,” the girl said, her eyes lingering on Ricky. The girl absently pointed the way. Megan noticed that Ricky smiled. He wasn’t unaware how attractive he was. The romance novel version where beautiful people weren’t aware how beautiful they were was utter bullshit. Beautiful people always knew they were beautiful. The world confirmed it every opportunity it could.
They went toward the stairs. “Nice club,” Ricky said, seemingly impressed. Megan was glad.
“It’s one of the busiest here.” It was still really early, but the dance floor was close to full with tightly-clad bodies gyrating to the droning beat.
Upstairs, a sign on the door said ‘Manager’ and Megan knocked. A deep voice told them to come in. Megan had met Jesus before, only briefly. He was also gorgeous, but in a sense that had always made her nervous, the way Rudolph Valentino had made a nation of girls nervous way back when. Megan had gone through an old Hollywood phase. Mainly for the fashion, which was unsurpassed in some sense, but there had been a few distant faces that had curled her toes.
Jesus sat in his chair, his biker boots up on the desk as he read something. As whenever she’d seen him, he dressed in dark clothes; black jeans and today a white T-shirt. Putting down the papers, he watched them come in. He wasn’t a smiler, but then many of the Spanish weren’t. It didn’t mean anything. They just accepted that if they were serious people, they were serious people. Others were utter charmers, but Jesus didn’t try to charm anyone.
“You are the one coming to audition,” Jesus said, his voice deep. It didn’t have that smoothness that Ricky had, that smoothness that snuck right inside her panties whenever he whispered naughty stuff in her ear. He was good at that, could get her hot by just talking.
“I am,” Ricky said, looking puffed up. Okay, Megan didn’t always understand male body language, but there was obviously something going on.
“He’s worked extensively in London,” Megan added brightly.
“The sound in London is different from here.”
“I’m adaptable,” he said.
“You have your music?” Jesus asked, looking at the laptop under Ricky’s arm.
Ricky nodded and Jesus considered him for a while, then rose from his chair. “Come,” he said and with his hands, urged them out of his office. He locked it when they were outside and they walked downstairs in silence.
With a wave, Jesus communicated to the existing DJ that something was up. Ricky walked over and switched places with the guy, including a little half hug that guys sometimes did with people who they respected. Maybe Ricky knew this guy, maybe not; she didn’t know, but the music still played as Ricky loaded up his laptop and plugged mysterious stuff together.
After a while, the music changed, a different beat. The dancers responded and Ricky’s head started bobbing up and down. At that moment, Megan was insanely proud of him. He looked so good up there, looked like he belonged there.
Sneaking a peek at Jesus, he stood with his arms crossed, showing no emotion.
The music changed again and Ricky attached a mic to his ear. “Dance, my lovelies,” he said, his smooth voice working down Megan’s spine. It did the dancers as well, who responded with a cheer. This was so won already.
Megan jumped when she felt a touch to her elbow. She hadn’t seen Jesus approach and got a jolt of adrenalin when she found him there.
“Tell him he can start tomorrow at ten pm,” Jesus said. He wasn’t that close, but close enough to feel his breath on her hair. With that, he turned and walked back to the stairs leading to his office.
When he was gone, Megan gave Ricky the thumbs up. He smiled brightly, but kept doing his thing. He loved being up there, in front of his audience. This was his domain, where he belonged. Shine had been a good choice.
Biting her lip, Megan watched him.
Chapter 8
Shania sat on her balcony with her feet through the bars, looking out on the sea view. This was the best apartment she'd ever been in, let alone lived in. It was gorgeous—everything was new and it looked l
ike it was put together by a designer who knew what they were doing. She couldn't believe she lived in a place like this, but it was all hers, at least for the time she was here in Marbella.
Being the first Saturday morning back here, she didn't quite know what to do with herself. A car had been delivered for her, a little Mini, for some reason. It was tiny, considering she was used to large cars with more space. But this was Spain and the roads couldn’t always be depended on, so perhaps a small car was for the best. She didn't dislike it as such; she just didn't get it.
Getting dressed, she made her way down to the garage in the basement by way of the mirrored elevator. In her car, she drove up the ramp and onto the street where bright sunshine beamed on a Saturday morning. She had no particular destination in mind, was just going to drive around and check the place out.
The week at work had been interesting, Felix avoided her like the plague and she couldn't exactly bring herself to regret that. At one point, they had come face-to-face and he'd paused for a moment before acting like she wasn't even there. Like she gave a shit. Felix was the past and she wanted him to stay that way. He was only a lay anyway, so what was he getting all uptight about? It didn't matter. Felix didn't matter. He could do nothing to help her career and she didn't understand why he was there anyway. This wasn't his kind of scene.
Turning her thoughts away from work, she drove down the streets of Marbella and surveyed the change in the time she'd been gone. Things grew here, the town expanded. In a way, she had missed it, but it also held bad memories. If she’d had a choice, she wasn't sure she would've chosen to come back, but this was where her career took her and that meant more than anything.
She cruised down to Porto Banus until she drove past that awful strip joint where fuck-faced Russian pricks had beaten the shit out of her, so severely she’d been hospitalised. It wasn’t there. In its place was a spa, with gold tiling and a turquoise water feature, as different from the seedy strip joint as it could get. Hopefully, those cretin Russians had been driven out of town. Shania smiled at the thought, happy to know that their ugly violence didn't win in the end. They were gone and she was here, living in a fantastic apartment and driving a nice—but strange—car. She was glad to see it gone, glad to know this wasn't something that would prey on her mind. With them gone, she could feel more comfortable here. In a way, she could put that chapter, those injuries, behind her.
What she didn't know was what she was going to do about Esme. They'd been friends and then things had gone badly. In the end, however, she’d left without really knowing where their friendship was at. She didn't know whether it was worth rekindling it. In some sense, their relationship had been all about Esme and Shania had served a purpose—a confidant, a companion, but at the core she wasn't sure it had truly been about friendship, more about what Esme needed from her. There was also the worry that it would screw things up for her with her boss, Dominic. Maybe it was best to just leave it, relegate it to something in the past. Sometimes it was good just to cut your losses and move on, particularly when things got too complicated.
She drove out of town for a bit and along the coast to Malaga. She was in the mood to explore and now she had the car to do it with. She had lunch at a little Spanish joint, which was nice.
*
That evening, she was feeling nostalgic and made her way into Porto Banus again to return to Shine. It was a place that always had positive memories and she loved the energy there. She wouldn't be up on those platforms dancing anymore, just one of the customers, enjoying the dancing, the scene and the beats. If she got a chance to say hello to Jesus, she would do so, and even thank him for giving her a chance when she’d needed it. She didn’t now; she was beyond that kind of stuff, that kind of work. Dominic had given her a career and she would hold on as tightly as she could. But a little partying wouldn't hurt.
She walked into the familiar space, seeing the mass of people dancing, the pounding music and the flashing lights. A sense of fun filled her. This place was fun. She saw Trish dancing up on one of the platforms and waved to her, who waved back frantically, obviously surprised to see her. Trish jumped down and made her way over through the crowd.
“Shania,” she said. “You’re back.”
“I am. I work at Dunbury Industries now.”
“That's great. Are you here to stay for a while?”
“I don't know. A year maybe?”
“Fantastic,” Trish said. “I better get back. Good to see you. We should catch up sometime.”
“Sure, I’ll give you a call later in the week maybe.”
Trish smiled and nodded, returning to her platform and resuming her dancing. She looked good. They’d been flatmates, but they hadn't really been friends. Trish was okay, Australian and a little bit weird, but she was a decent girl.
Moving further into the club, Shania got a drink from the bartender and moved along the edge of the dance floor, so she could survey the scene and absorb the atmosphere. She wasn’t quite in the mood to dance yet, needed a stiff drink first. Her eyes wandered over the space, the dancing bodies, until she settled on the DJ, who was new. And really cute. Shania watched him for a while, grabbing the two little black straws and taking a sip of her drink. The DJ had a lovely smile, and when he spoke to the crowd, his voice was like velvet, smooth and lush.
She would have to ask Trish about him later when they caught up. Finding a seat at one of the round booths where a bunch of boys sat, she crossed her legs and just watched. No one complained about her pushing into their booth; they were trying to get her attention, but she ignored them. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Right now, this was enough, a chance to relax and just enjoy herself.
Chapter 9
Ricky surveyed the dance floor over which he was the undisputed king. Eager, gorgeous faces all staring at up at him, waiting for him to push them on, to challenge and reward. At times, maybe even to punish them. They were his to do with as he wanted. It was him they came for, eager for him to get them to that state of bliss.
This gig had worked out well. He loved working at Shine, had settled in like it had always been meant to be. It wasn't perhaps as cutting edge at some of the London clubs, but the girls were gorgeous and everyone was in that holiday party mode, which was something quite special.
A girl was hanging around by the entrance to his platform, giving him the look he knew so well. She wore an orange micro dress with jewels all over it, legs so long and tanned they seemed to stretch forever. Blue eyes sparkled as she looked up at him and she bit her lips, which were glossy and pink. That was enough, all he needed. He queued a couple tracks and decided it was time to take a much-deserved break. He didn't even say hello; he just took her hand and led her away, out the back where the staff areas were. He’d found the best places to spend a little time with his subjects. He’d started referring to them that way, and they didn't seem to mind when he actually said it.
Taking her down the hall, he walked towards the little storage cupboard and quickly pulled her inside. It had an awful fluoro light, but he didn't mind. His lips sought hers and she welcomed him. Running his hand up that tiny skirt, he slid her panties aside and slipped a finger inside her. She was wet, grinding on him as he worked his finger in and out of her. Her glossy lips parted in a moan. She was ready to go, as he knew she would be. Without further delay, he freed his cock and she parted her legs eagerly. He lined to her hot core and pushed into her smoothly. Lush sensations were whirling around his body and his mind. She was so hot and tight, and he quickly pounded into her, holding her up along the white wall of the storage room.
He loved this job; loved these girls, their willingness, their hot, aching need, and these quick trysts between sets was his reward. It was endless, the perfect playground.
His body was tightening; he was getting ready to come, her tight little body driving him on. Then, his movement faltered and his whole body drew together, pulsing into her repeatedly. He could feel her convulsing around him and g
roaned frantically as he felt her nails sticking into his back.
“No nails,” he said and she retracted her claws. He couldn't have nail marks down his back; Megan would certainly notice that and he didn't want to have that confrontation. Megan was a nice girl; he didn't want to hurt her, but he also couldn't be what she wanted him to be. She had made some hefty assumptions about the kind of person he was, and she wasn't entirely accurate. For one, he couldn't forgo these little trysts with his subjects when it was so easy.
It wasn't like they were serious; they were hanging really. The sex was okay; Megan loved it, but it wasn't enough. He almost wished it was; it would be nice to settle down with a girl like Megan, for all the people she knew and the wealth she had. She lived an amazing lifestyle and he loved being a part of it, but he still couldn't quite be what she wanted. Sometimes he blamed her for being naïve.
He shuddered through the echoes of his release, emptying the last bit of himself inside her, the girl’s hips still grinding to him in the very last of her release. Quick and nasty, that was the way he liked that. He gave more to Megan; she was special, but she wouldn't be enough. If he could keep it this way, he would. But he also knew she would eventually find out. It wasn't exactly a secret that he was banging scores of girls in the club.
Tucking himself away, he kissed the girl on the forehand and stood back, waiting for her to finish straightening herself.
“Thanks,” he said. “You’ve been teasing me all night. You sure know how to make it hard for a guy.”
The girl smiled. “My pleasure,” she said. “Anytime. My name is Chloe.”
“How long are you here for?”
“Only two more days, unfortunately,” she said with an exaggerated pout. That protruding lip sent a spear of heat down to his cock again.
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