Dirty Angel (The List #2)

by N. K. Love

  “You don’t look so bad yourself you know. Although I think your shirts do suit me better…”

  “That can be arranged, just say the word and we’ll ditch the cars…”

  God I sound like an eager schoolboy. The energy is sparking between us as always, how can I not think impulsively? Unfortunately I have got to go to this works do though, blowing it off is not an option. I need to pull myself together, nobody has this effect on me so why am I letting her?

  “As tempting as that is G, I’m in the mood for a drink and dance. Plus, you’ve got to go and you never know, we might even pull—”

  I rudely butt in, “—you’re not thinking for a minute that you’re gonna bring any fucker back here are you?” She nearly chokes on the wine she’s sipping.

  “Of course not! Jeez… Whoa, hold on, if you bring anybody back please gag her, I don’t want to listen to that thanks! This time I will know that it’s not a DVD.”

  I think she’s being serious. I haven’t told her that I’ve never bought a girl home before. She’s the only person that’s been in my bed with me. In fact, she’s the only person that’s slept in that spare room. That’s why I had to swing by the store to buy a duvet and bedding for her on the way home that day. The only reason there’s a bed in there is because a few months after moving in, I redecorated my room and changed the bed.

  Anyway, there’s no way I’m letting her come home alone tonight so unless I get some action round the back of this function room, it doesn’t look as though I’m pulling tonight. But hopefully B doesn’t either and we both find ourselves back here, fucking ‘til sunrise.

  9:11pm

  Beth

  I arrive first and start looking around like a meerkat for familiar faces. Katie grabs me from the side. Shoving a glass of bubbly in my hand, she gives me a kiss and a quick clink.

  I’d text her when I got out the swanky car Jax ordered for me. Katie must’ve been looking out for me so she takes me over to everybody. I quickly dish out hugs and kisses and start apologising for disappearing Friday. I briefly explain to Katie, Shona, Emma and Sam about the Mendacious Mike situation. They’re all very sympathetic but I brush it off and change the subject, not wanting to dampen the mood. I’m pleased to hear we’ve missed the buffet because now everybody is just cracking on with having a good night.

  My jubilator Jax arrives shortly after. He joins us and grunts his hellos to everybody, winking and smiling at me discreetly, sending a delicious ripple from the top of my ribcage to the pit of my stomach. What those eyes have seen is enough to make the married me cringe. But although I’m not officially divorced in real life, I’ve mentally divorced the married me and I’m working on divorcing her hang ups too.

  Miss Sensible is folding her arms at me, shaking her head and tutting. I know some of the girls clocked us holding hands in Stryders and most of those here will have seen the dirty dancing in Keepers. But I don’t spot any weird looks or raised eyebrows so I feel relaxed and ready to enjoy the night ahead.

  For the next few hours we buy round after round and the time is filled with alcohol, banter and frequent trips to the dance floor. My kind of night. These guys are such a good group to go out with. Men have occasionally sidled up to one of the girls a few times and all it takes is a look in the lads’ direction and one of them will intervene and politely make it clear she’s not interested—never Jax though. Then they just seamlessly go back to conversation, they’re so much cooler than me. Okay, the very fact that that thought crossed my mind at all is more evidence to prove the fact itself.

  Jax is undoubtedly one of the group but it’s like there’s an invisible line drawn that people know not to cross. I think on the face of it, people would put it down to his position at work but I know it’s down to the force field he surrounds himself with. I’ve been lucky enough to be trapped in there with him and it’s a sacred place that deserves to be sheltered from the rest of the world.

  Even though Wills isn’t here, I’m really enjoying myself. I realise that as well as the obvious time spent with Jax, this dress does wonders for boosting my confidence too. I’d removed the strapping from my hand as it totally clashed with the dress. Plus I think I’ve proven that my grip is much better now and the bruising doesn’t look too noticeable so once the pain stops altogether I’ll be fine.

  I’ve never had so many compliments and I must admit, I do feel pretty damn sexy, especially when I’m dancing. A few men danced up behind me. I had a quick dance but then nicely gestured to them that I’m dancing with the girls and they moved on.

  I love catching Jax’s eyes throughout the night; never sure if he was watching me or vice versa. The curious looks, secret smiles and mesmerising eyes… I’m sure I can translate his facials fluently now.

  At one point we lock eyes in perfect harmony with the hook from Jeremih’s “Don’t Tell ’Em” and his knowing smile made me laugh aloud so I discreetly mimed the lyrics to him whilst I carried on dancing.

  Later on into the night, random, socially lubricated girls start flaunting themselves all over the single guys of our group, some of them I recognise as members from the gym. It was only a matter of time, considering the entire room is full of either 24/7 staff or members who’ve probably marked Jax’s card since they joined the flaming gym! I should know, he certainly sealed the contract for me and has been my resident eye candy ever since.

  I mean, the other men are all good looking and clearly look after their bodies but Jax… Jax stands out like the proverbial sore thumb and is clearly on another level—in my eyes at least. I bet everybody is appreciative of his hands-on approach to management!

  The DJ is playing a variety of different genres and era’s to cater for all the different tastes in the room. There’s some amazing throwbacks coming out so we’re loving the good mood on the dance floor.

  Then we’re bought back to the 21st century with Chris Brown’s “Poppin’”, which makes ideal timing for an attractive dark haired tall man, about my age, to come up and try some moves with me. I reciprocate without hesitation, partly as a distraction from Jax and his flirty fan club, but mainly because he’s good looking plus I really love this song.

  Tune after tune we stay here dancing and he’s undeniably good. Needless to say, he is nowhere near Jax’s level of smooth moves. But a massive attraction for me is a man that knows how to dance. I don’t recognise him from the gym but there’s no point even attempting to say anything because we’ve ended up next to the speakers and the music’s too loud. His hands gradually get more and more adventurous but not crossing any lines. My back is completely exposed in this dress, needing tit-tape to secure me from wobbling around embarrassingly and it does the job nicely.

  Momentarily I consider how music has such an effect on us. Just because there’s music playing it’s suddenly the norm for two complete strangers to instantly get so close, holding hands, stroking, grinding, touching each other… It’s bizarre. If the music suddenly went off, I bet we’d all feel like we’re being really inappropriate. It’s not like we’d introduce ourselves to a stranger in a supermarket by practically dry humping them amongst the fruit and veg.

  The lads of our group have made their way to the edge of the dance floor as usual but they’ve formed a little harem of groupies with them now. They try not to look too smug about the attention they’re getting. There’s two, yes two, girls trying to dance up on Jax, touching him. Fucking breathing in his face, whispering in his ear. His body is angled in my direction but his grinning face is too pre-occupied with the pair of flaunted cleavages in front of him to notice me. Who am I to talk when I’m dancing with this guy and his wandering hands? Talk about double standards.

  Get a grip, Miss Fierce scolds me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wednesday 15th April 2015

  12:05am

  Now I’m facing Mr No Name and he starts stroking his fingers up and down my back. It feels like a nice distraction, although I have to bat away visions of Jax’s str
ong capable hands gripping me instead.

  For some strange reason I feel a surge of jitters when he settles both of his hands on my bottom and pulls me tighter in against him. The unwritten friendship code extends to the dance floor too; you just give one of the girls ‘the look’ and they intervene—standard protocol apparently. Instead though, I confuse matters by instinctively looking for Jax and as if by sixth sense, he turns his attention from the ditsy double act and looks straight at me. He smiles.

  A split second later—maybe he is fluent in my facials too—his smile fades into a frown and he nods his head upwards, which I know means ‘do you need me?’ I shake my head quickly, automatically dismissing the prospect.

  Meanwhile, the rest of the room seemingly blurs away as I absorb his gaze and the wonderful way he’s able to make me feel so completely safe with just one look… Inside I’m screaming ‘YES… I do… I do need you’. It’s like a depressing revelation that I swiftly push straight to the bottom of my impossible heart.

  The room returns into focus, I am not dealing with this fuckery in my head tonight, I need to have some fun and stop tempting myself with intangible forbidden fairy tales.

  Jax carries on watching me for a minute then, seemingly reassured, he goes back to his tactile duo.

  Urgh… That sight’s enough to shake off my jitters with some determination. They’re replaced with a desperate need for better distraction, which comes when the tune ends and blends into the next one. Mr No Name takes hold of my hand and heads off the dance floor, trailing me behind him.

  Time to see if more privacy ignites a flame or not.

  The function room 24/7 have hired is pretty simple, just one enormous room with a big dance floor and a wall of buffet and complimentary bottles that have long since been drained. There’s a bar at the other end. We head towards a long lit corridor leading off to the toilets and it also leads to a quieter side bar.

  We stop at the bottom of the corridor beside the fire exit and start kissing. Subconsciously for me this is the equivalent to doing a dipstick test. Instead of measuring the depth of a liquid, I want it to measure the depth of a regular kiss compared to kissing Jax. I want to feel just a yearn of something similar to the way Jax makes me feel. That will reassure me that he hasn’t somehow unwittingly ruined me. It isn’t right that I should think about Jax when I’m with another man. But I’ve already done that and it needs to stop.

  At first we kiss with my back against the cold wall and I surprise myself by taking charge, possibly because I want to give this my best shot, desperate to feel a stirring inside.

  I turn to put him against the wall. As much as I love kissing and Mr No Name is a good kisser, it doesn’t rouse any heat inside, it’s not even tepid. The strip lighting in the corridor puts him in a new light too. It exposes something in his eyes that the shadows on the dance floor hid. Up this close and personal, I’m not as attracted to him as I thought I was.

  To say I’m disappointed is an understatement, I’m gutted. I even try imagining us getting naked—after all he’s got a decent bod—but nothing. If anything it makes me cringe and there’s no logical reason for that. Just incompatibility, I hope. Not that he feels that way. He’s still going all in but my decision’s been made. Time to wrap up this non-starter and get back to the girls. Let’s hope he’s drawn the same conclusion.

  I leave it a little longer trying to find the right time but his lips and hands are relentless. Eventually, I subtly but adamantly pull away and take hold of his forearm.

  “I’d better get back, my friends will be wondering where I am…”

  I go to walk back down the corridor but he doesn’t budge. He tries to pull me back.

  “Come on, stay. I haven’t finished with you yet.”

  His expression darkens, but not in a sexy way like Jax, it’s a cold eerie stare.

  Why didn’t I listen to my sixth sense jitters? My mom always says that women have a sixth sense for a men who talk bullshit and men they should avoid. This guy ticks both boxes. I think my test has gone all wrong; the only dipstick here is this creep that’s now making my skin crawl.

  I let go of his arm and pace back down the corridor, shouting over my shoulder, “Gotta go, sorry.” Noooo thank you, I didn’t order any drama with my vodka tonight.

  To rub salt into my frigid wounds, as I emerge back into the main room, I’m slapped in the face with the gross vision of Jax at the back of the speakers with his tongue down some girl’s throat. He is actually kissing her and she looks like putty in his hands… Strong, capable hands that have recently travelled all over my body.

  Don’t look, don’t look. Fuckity fuck fuck.

  I keep on walking—virtually marching—telling myself that this dull ache in the pit of my stomach now, will save hours of pining later. He loves his “fuck ’em and fuck ’em off” lifestyle. This is him, he’s doing nothing wrong, and how dare I be angry at him? What a hypocrite! He’s never once tried to hide who he is…

  I’m beginning to think it’s me trying to be somebody I’m not. Forcing myself into some carefree frivolous mould that will never fit. I can’t even enjoy kissing another guy for fucks sake.

  Well there’s nothing better than some alcohol to help disinfect these wounds. I take a shot of vodka at the bar and it may as well be water because I don’t register a thing. All I can see is Jax with his beautiful mouth kissing the lips of another woman and I’m not even looking at him. It’s scarring my mind’s eye. I know that if I don’t snap out of this, it’ll cement itself into a photo frame, hanging off the wall of my exclusive Jaxson-only memory bank.

  Heading back to the girls on the dance floor it’s evident they think they know what I’ve been up to as they give me nudges and winks of approval. I manage to forge a smile. At least that’ll steer them off course about any thoughts of Jax and I.

  Jax and that girl are out of sight but unfortunately not out of my fuzzy mind. I just want to drink and have fun and stop feeling like an obsessed teenager with a celebrity crush. I thought I could do this but it’s consuming me.

  I can see Mr No Name on the other side of the dance floor grinding up to another poor girl, he didn’t waste any time. Let’s hope she’s in tune with her sixth senses too.

  Dancing to a couple of tracks with the girls manages to shift the looming grey cloud from above me.

  We go to the ladies to freshen up. We’ve all reached the ‘happy giggling drunk’ stage and I’ve progressed to the ‘talking honest verbal diarrhoea’ phase of that stage! Telling anybody who’ll listen how happy I am that I’m not with my cheating boring bastard husband.

  I feel the urge to tell Wills how much I love her. But, I’ve no idea what time or even what day it is in this country let alone abroad. I opt out of drunk dialling her and settle for a drunken text instead.

  I miss u soooo much. Hope u & ur mom r ok. Wish u were here I cud do wiv a big hug. I love u Wills. Love me xxx

  I add some lippy in the mirror and Sam fixes my hair back into a messy side pony with the curls tumbling down again. My phone beeps and I’m excited that Wills has replied so quickly.

  Am I playing on ur mind B? x

  Jax? What—? Shit, I glance above his message and see I’ve sent Wills’ message to him. Dammit! Will he realise I need a hug because of my feelings towards him. I forward the message to Wills and reply honestly to Jax.

  Always. Even when ur kissing sum1 else & especially when I am x

  I just type and press send; no re-reading, editing or rethinking like normal. We agreed unfiltered honesty and why shouldn’t I speak my mind? I may feel differently when I’m sober, but I’m not, so I’m past caring.

  B? Ur not goin all deep on me r u? x

  Come on, how can I resist this when he’s lined it up for me so sweetly? Plus I’m tipsy. My reply is a no-brainer.

  I thought that’s how u liked it 2 G? x

  Miss Fierce polishes her knuckles on her chest with pride as I’m still able to deliver a one liner up to he
r high standards even though I’m a little drunk and a lot confused about my relationship with Jax.

  Ah-ha, there she is, my drunken witty & pretty sweet B x

  I even read his texts in his husky, I’ve-got-a-big-dick voice. Is that weird? Do I do that with everybody?

  We’re heading back out feeling ready to make the most of the last hour or so of the night. Although I’m slightly annoyed that my extra buzz is courtesy of a little text tennis with Jax.

  Emma and Shona have got work in the morning, I’ve no idea how they do it, plus they’re probably going to be busy; there won’t be many staff in after tonight. We return to the boys and they hand us all a shot of vodka, we all say “Cheers” to friendship and a quality night. The girls and I carry on dancing but this time find a spot away from the speakers to give our ears a rest.