Fast

by S. R. Jones

  She leans into me and kisses my cheek. “You need to stop being so closed off, Liam. Even if it is only a one-night thing. Go have some fun. Let someone in.”

  Then she’s gone, sashaying down the dock with her rounded hips swaying.

  Her words make me think. I don’t feel anything when I go to the club. It’s mechanical, scratching an itch. A few moments of physical pleasure. But there’s no excitement because there’s no anticipation, no, will we-won’t we. There will be sex. It will be with someone attractive, often in her forties, or sometimes her fifties. Her husband will be there, and he’ll be somewhere else with someone else, or maybe, on the odd occasion, watching. We agree beforehand any no go areas, do they like or dislike oral, or anal, that kind of thing, and then we fuck. It’s kind of cold. Kind of…deadening.

  I don’t think it’s the same for the couples. They are getting off on being with someone else together. It’s a team sport for them. Some fun for them to spice up their marriages with, but for me, it’s not that. It’s…fuck, I realize it’s kind of lonely. Kind of fucked up, too.

  I only got involved because my good friend, Adam, runs the place and he needed a few guys he could trust to be single male members. The first time I went, a few years ago now, I only watched and had a drink, but it had been over a year since I’d had sex, so I went back the next night and fucked some bored housewife.

  The people there all want to be there, and that matters to me. Or they do on the surface at least, but after what I saw Abi go through with Nick I know I won’t be back. How do I know what goes on behind closed doors? Maybe there are women and men at the club under duress, people doing it out of desperation to save an ailing marriage.

  Without thinking any further, I take out my phone and send a brief text to Adam telling him to cancel my membership and that I won’t be back.

  Christ, I don’t even know her, and already Abi is changing things for me. Making me think about things in a different way.

  Two hours later and I’m in her space, placing a few listening devices around the houseboat she’s made her temporary home. I’ve searched all over for the fucking USB stick and can’t find it, which means either she’s lost it, or it’s with her, or hidden somewhere really damn good.

  I resist the fucked-up temptation to put a camera in here and watch her because no way am I going to be that guy.

  When I’m done, I give the place a final sweep, making sure everything is in place. I’d called Nancy and agreed once I’d finished, I’d go into McColls Bar and Grill, so she knew when it was safe for her and Abi to head back.

  I head that way now, stopping off briefly to drop my small toolkit off at the place I’m renting. When I enter McColls a blast of warm air greets me, and it carries delicious smells with it. My stomach rumbles as I realize I’m ravenous. I head to the bar, beckon the bartender, and order a pitcher of beer along with a basket of hot wings and fries.

  As I sip at my cool beer I look around the place. I spot Nancy and Abi easily. They’re sat at a wooden table on stools, by the window. They have some half-eaten food and a shared pitcher of beer in front of them. Abi’s scruffy little dog is at her feet, staring up at its owner in rapt concentration, which only becomes more focused when she takes a fry and pops it into her mouth.

  I will walk by their table soon, letting Nancy know it’s all good and she can head on home, but for now, I enjoy watching them. The beer slips down a little too easily, and I can feel it warming my stomach, the alcohol working its magic as I drink on an empty stomach and a few nights of restless sleep. I don’t drink much anyway. I eat clean, work out, and limit my drinking, and it means the beer gives me a tiny buzz right now.

  A song comes on the jukebox, something country that I don’t recognize. People start dancing and I watch as the song melts into something else. Nancy smiles up at a man who approaches their table, and he’s saying something to her and Abi. I see Abi nod and smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Then she’s handing Boo’s lead to Nancy and following the guy onto the dance floor.

  I watch as the man puts his arms around her. He’s young, around her age I guess. Younger than me. And he’s objectively good looking too, in a clean-cut preppy way.

  As they dance, I watch her, watch his arms on her and my gut sours. Fuck knows why, but I don’t want him touching her. She is laughing now at something he says, and her eyes are warm when she looks at him. The wariness of earlier is gone, and she’s having a good time. Why wouldn’t she? She’s had some beer, some tasty food, and someone is touching her with affection instead of hate. I want to be the one touching her, though.

  Things change in an instant. A slower song comes on, and the guy with her presses in closer. I see the moment her happy vibe dulls, and she angles her hips away from him a tiny increment. The asshole follows her with his body, pressing into her again.

  I growl under my breath, and before I can even think about what I’m doing, I push up from my stool and stalk across the dancefloor.

  Tapping Abi on the shoulder, I smile as she turns to me.

  “Do you mind if I cut in?” I ask her.

  “Not at all, Liam.” She remembers my name, and somehow it feels like a victory.

  “Do you mind? I promised the lady here a dance.” I lie smoothly to the touchy-feely, hip pressing douche still holding onto her.

  “Not at all.” But his glare says he does mind.

  I stare him down. The prick doesn’t worry me in the slightest. And after a moment he shrugs and lets go of her, walking away to rejoin his friends.

  Wanting to touch her so bad I scare myself, I force myself to give her space, and I simply put my hand on her shoulder and rest the other lightly at her waist.

  “I thought you looked like you needed saving,” I tell her.

  We move to the strains of some crooner singing something or other. Maintaining my distance, I lean only my upper body toward her and speak into her left ear. “Hope it was okay me cutting in? Seems like that idiot was getting a bit too free with the whole hip swiveling he’d got going on.”

  She giggles, but it’s low and soft and I love the sound. It raises the hairs on my forearm as surely as if she’d licked a stripe up my dick or something.

  I’ve never experienced anything like this. The overwhelming zing of attraction so strong I’m sure the air around us hums with it. What’s even weirder is this is surely purely one-sided. I doubt she’s sensing the same pull.

  Fighting not to get a hard on and be yet another douche, I force myself to think of a few stomach churning images to calm my raging libido.

  The feel of her petite frame in my arms is so much more than I’d imagined. Not that I’d envisioned dancing with her, no, my thoughts had been a bit more carnal than this.

  “How long are you staying here?” She asks me in a smoky, sexy voice. She looks like a naïve young woman, but sounds like a lounge torch singer.

  “Maybe a week or so.” I look down at her and she’s staring up at me, big deep blue eyes framed by thick lashes. She doesn’t seem to be wearing any make-up and she’s flawless. Gorgeous skin kissed, dotted all over her nose and cheeks by freckles. Small but full mouth, and an upturned nose. She’s like some damned Disney heroine come to life. I realize I’m staring so flick my gaze to the side for a moment.

  “How about you?” I ask.

  Turning back to her, I witness the shutters sliding down. Her eyes skitter from mine, her face loses its open friendliness and she gives a trying too hard to be casual shrug. “A few weeks probably. I might see if I can pick up some off the books work or something to fund the next leg of my travels.”

  “Sounds like a plan, only don’t go getting caught. This isn’t Thailand or somewhere you can work off-book easily before heading off on the next leg of your travels.” I want to bite back the words as soon as they’re out. I sound like some condescending father figure, and they only highlight the difference in age and experience between us.

  She smiles, though. Doesn’t seem
to take offence. “Yes, sir.” She raises one arm and gives me a mock salute.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I used to be in charge of people’s safety, and old habits die hard.”

  “Oh, what did you do?”

  “Military,” I tell her truthfully. “Special forces.”

  “Wow.” Her tone isn’t mocking, she’s impressed. “What do you do now?”

  Again, I go with the truth, mostly. “Protection work. You know, some oil Sheik wants to come to London and needs twenty-four-hour protection, he’ll call me and my guys. We do a lot of Russian billionaires, Tech guys, that sort of thing.”

  “Do you mind any famous people?”

  “Not really.” I smile at her. “A lot of the famous people want huge, burly bouncers that look the part.”

  “Erm,” she glances at my arms in my close fitting t-shirt, “you’re kind of burly.”

  “Not like those guys. They’re huge, a lot of them. I mean Arnie in the eighties kind of big. We try to blend in more, not be obvious. The people we protect are the real VIP’s, the ones you’d never see on any red carpet. Although, we did have a very senior member of the Vatican a few months ago, and he was kind of famous, or very famous, if you’re a catholic.”

  “Sounds interesting.” She bites her lip and glances away again.

  “What do you do?” I ask her.

  “Nothing right now. I’m afraid I’m not as exciting as you. I used to be a hairdresser. Now I’m….I’m looking for a new start, hence the traveling.”

  I like that she’s told me the truth, or at least some of it, the same way I’ve told her some of the truth.

  The song has morphed at some point into another slow number but that ends and ‘I Love Rock and Roll’ blares out making us both startle.

  She laughs and pulls away. “Well, thanks for the dance, Liam. I’ll see you around maybe before you leave.”

  Then she’s gone. Leaving my arms empty. I fight the urge to pull her back, pull her into me and kiss her. Clenching my jaw, I wave at Nancy and then walk back to the bar, where a cooling basket of wings and fries awaits me. I’ve kind of lost my appetite for food, though.

  Chapter Six

  Abi

  What was that?

  I managed to somehow act like a normal person after the dance with Liam. I chatted for a few more minutes with Nancy, who then announced she needed to be getting back. I walked back along the docks with her and kept the façade up. But when I got to my little rented home, I flopped on the bed and covered my face with my arm.

  I’m still laid in the same position, heart beating a little faster than usual, skin flushed still. Body on some sort of red alert, but the good kind, not the kind I spent years on with Nick.

  I’d danced with the hot young man who’d asked me to. It had been nice. I felt normal as we moved to the music. He’s attractive, very much so. Good looking, but in too similar a way to Nick to really appeal to me. All clean cut and preppy. Then he’d got a bit too enthusiastic, digging his crotch into mine, letting me feel his hardness, and I’d been searching for a polite way to excuse myself when a low voice had asked to cut in.

  I recognized the broad accent straight away and knew it was the man from the floating home nearby.

  I’d been fine with having a quick dance with him in order to get away from the raging hard on poking in my thigh, but then he’d put those big arms of his around me and something changed.

  He isn’t my type. He’s not cleanly handsome, more rugged, and rough around the edges. His face has lines fanning down from his eyes. The kind that say he smiles a lot, which is weird, because he doesn’t seem to smile a lot to me. Then he’d told me what he did, and I got to wondering if he got those lines from squinting against the harsh glare of the sun in places like Afghanistan.

  The whole time he held me, my heart pounded away in my chest. He’s so tall. Easily over six foot, and so big. His shoulders are broad and his arms full of muscles, and his legs are long and thick, but it was more than that. Liam simply exudes power. Not the sort of power Nick wants. The kind you buy. No, Liam’s power is inherent. It’s in the way he moves his body. His total ease in his own skin.

  I shouldn’t be attracted to him. I’ve got away from an abusive man and right now I should want nothing more than to have a few years of man-free peace. But there’s a horrible, pathetic, part of me that wants someone to love me and protect me. I suppose I’ve been wanting it my whole life, and it’s made me weak. I didn’t have a daddy, and my mother didn’t ever protect me. Not so far as I can remember, so I spend my life yearning for it. It’s not healthy. Look where it got me with Nick.

  I swear to myself I’ll fight anymore of these unhealthy attractions. Not that there is any danger of having to do so with Liam. I doubt he felt the same zing I did. The whole time we danced my body came alive with an ultra-heightened awareness of itself and him. My skin prickled with it. I wanted to press my lower half more into his, but that would make me as creepy as the dude with the erection, so I didn’t.

  I wonder if Liam has a partner or a wife. Someone he cares for and wraps up at night in those big arms, keeping her warm and safe. God, I’m stupid. I need to get a grip. I need to learn to save myself. Once I’m settled, I’m going to take self-defense classes. I want the same kind of security in my own body that Liam has. I want to walk down the street and not shrink in on myself to make me less of a target.

  I sigh and turn over onto my side. Boo is staring at me. His big eyes watching me.

  “I’m pathetic, Boo,” I tell him dramatically. “Crushing on the big, strong man I’ve only just met. Your mummy needs a job and something to do with her time.”

  Boo’s eyes widen and it’s as if he’s telling me not to dare to get a job and leave him. I smile, but then I frown, because it is an issue. I can’t leave Boo here on this boat. Maybe Nancy would have him for a few hours if I get some work, but I can’t ask her. I barely know her. I don’t know anyone. And then they come. The tears I’ve held off for days start to threaten.

  I know no one. I’m all alone in this world, once again.

  Sick and tired of wallowing in self-pity, I sit up and swing my legs off the bed. I’m going to go out and buy an i-Pad so I can use the internet and browse online. I’ve asked Nancy if I can piggyback her Wifi and she said yes. I need her to buy the i-Pad too if I give her the cash as I can’t have it registered to me, but I think she will. She guessed some of my story, that I’m fleeing an abusive man, and I let her think that’s all there is to it. She confided in me her own past, with a nasty piece of work who beat her so bad one day he broke four bones in her face. So, yeah, I think Nancy will help me out.

  At some point, I need to get a laptop and see what is on the USB port I took from Nick. I’ve no clue if he really is doing something dodgy but my gut tells me he is. I daren’t contact anyone until I know what is on it. Once I do then maybe I will take it to some law enforcement agency. Still, I doubt they could keep me safe.

  One night, a few months ago, I awoke to hear deep voices in the lounge with foreign accents. When I snuck down the hallway, I saw four massive guys with Nick, one of them had tattoos everywhere. His neck, one side of his face, his forearms, and hands and knuckles. His eyes were so dark they looked black. He’d glanced up, seen me in the doorway, hovering, and glared at me. Nick had jumped up and ushered me back to bed, his hands gentle on my upper arm until we were out of sight, and then he pinched me hard enough to leave bruises for a week.

  You’d think I’d be turned off men for life, but instead I’ve got this urge to have wild, hot sex with Liam.

  Nick controlled me by using sex. He basically never gave it to me. At first, I think it was a ploy of his. He told me he was old fashioned and wanted to wait until we were married, but we messed around a little and I gave him the odd hand job.

  Then when we got married, things went downhill. He tried to fuck me on our wedding night and couldn’t. At the time I put it down to all the booze he’d downed. But the
issue carried on.

  I believe the fact he couldn’t perform with me is what led him to begin to hate me. At first, he’d simply masturbate over me, staring at me the whole while, grunting when he came, and never offering me release.

  Then he started to watch porn. Sick stuff with women crying as men forced them to take it up the ass or slapped them as they sucked their dicks. Again, he’d come, and walk away, leaving me covered in his sticky mess. If I tried to bring it up he went apeshit. The time I suggested we go see a counsellor he raged that there was nothing wrong with him, and it was all down to me, before giving me a black eye.

  Once I got Boo, things became so much worse, because suddenly I’d a person, a four legged fur-baby I loved. Nick could use him to control me. Many times, I thought of getting rid of Boo, giving him back to the shelter but I couldn’t bear to part with the only being in the whole world who loved me. That’s when the whole prostitute thing started, and I let Nick do it to me, because otherwise Boo would get his anger.

  Before Nick, I’d only had sex a few times. I liked it, though. The boyfriend I had before I met Nick was pretty good in the sack and we had some fun together. I miss it. My body misses it. I’ve got my hand of course, and I’ve given myself pleasure, but I miss a man’s touch. Miss having a dick in me, that feeling of being filled. I miss the sounds and scents of sex. I’m a young woman in her prime, and for the last few years, all I’ve had are furtive orgasms when my husband isn’t there. Is it any wonder my libido is rampant?

  That’s all it is with this Liam fella, I tell myself. My stupid, raging hormones picking him to focus all their needy energy on.

  “Liam.” For some reason, I say his name out loud.

  I close my eyes and let myself imagine his hands on me. He wouldn’t be gentle, I don’t think, but he wouldn’t be rough in the way Nick is. His roughness would be the good kind, the kind stemming from his desire. We’d both be that way in my fantasy. Het up and on edge, and needing to scratch the itch. I imagine us laid in this bed, him touching me. His big, strong hands all over my skin.