Dirty Angel (The List #2)

by N. K. Love

  “Well, Mrs Sexclusive, now you can see that I am committed—to your list.” I give her a quick kiss and take the robes from her. “Come on then if we’re going to do this. You are such a bad influence on me.”

  She giggles and I hold her robe open for her to slip into. As she does, she quickly snatches the belt straps, ties it and spins us around using my body to shield her.

  “Oh my God, Jax!” I realise she’s gesturing up over my shoulder to the security cameras. I put on my own robe and take hold of her lapels pulling her into my lips.

  “You and this beautiful body of yours are for my eyes only. Those are just my eyes in the sky, nobody else’s.”

  “Where do they all feed to?”

  “My office—the one upstairs.” I divert any further questions with a distraction. “Anyway, you can’t be camera shy if we’re going to be starring in a tape of our own.”

  Leaving her to think about that, I spark up her joint and pass it to her. It’s smooth, the kind that gives you a chilled buzz instead of the harsh stuff that roughs up your throat. I turn her around and stand behind her so we’re overlooking the vibrant greenery and distant views. I drape my arms over her shoulders and rest my chin on her head.

  We share a few pulls and it’s like the icing on the cake to end another great time together in style.

  8:15pm

  I throw everything I need into my black duffle bag and lock up the spare room. When I head downstairs Beth’s engrossed in a chick flick on the sofa. I’ve let her choose a film for later but I hope this isn’t setting a precedent. Actually, by then it won’t matter, I’m just looking forward to putting this overdue matter to bed… Then coming and putting this woman to bed and getting lost in her all over again—this time with a drawer full of condoms!

  Grabbing a pad and pen, I tear a sheet out, throw the pad in my bag and go to the kitchen. I write her a note and attach it to the fridge. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge for the ride, I’m good to go.

  9:45pm

  I’m intentionally early so I wait outside discreetly in the adjacent side road, where there’s no streetlights here.

  My mind seamlessly wanders to Beth and this afternoon. She has definitely injected some energy into my life of late.

  Perhaps it’s more fitting to say she’s injected some life into my existence. My days seem to be more structured with her around. I’ve spent so long floating from one day to the next, letting days bleed into nights and back into days, weeks, months… Beth makes me feel refreshed, she keeps me on my toes.

  I’ve never revealed much about myself and she’s never been one to pry, which I find remarkable considering how much time we’ve spent together. Beth always finds a reason to show me gratitude; for stopping at mine, for apparently making her feel special, for cooking for her, for getting that loser away from her at the party.

  I try to recall thanking her or trying to show her how much I enjoy having her around… My mind draws a blank. Maybe I should share with her some of what she’s given me, starting with that list of firsts I thought about earlier. Things like being tied up and blindfolded and being the first girl in my bed…

  I rifle through my bag and grab the notepad and a pen. Putting the pen in my mouth, I flick through the pad to find a blank page. That’s when I notice pages of different handwriting. My eyes scan over them and I realise by the layout that it’s her poetry. She’s told me that she writes as a hobby. I’ve never asked to read them before but she’s never said that I can’t either... Maybe she’s written them in my pad because she wants me to read them. I don’t think she’d mind.

  From what I know of Beth, she’s open and honest with me. So I use the dim light from my mobile to cast enough light, low in my lap, for me to read but not enough to draw attention to myself.

  I give outside another once over, still no movement. I’ve got ages to wait. Let’s see what these are all about then…

  Love Lost

  Years of my life spent lost floating on a cloud

  Ignoring the truth, too blind and too proud

  Released, I descend from these murky skies

  Countless questions of if’s, but’s and why’s

  Feeling hopeless with a future that’s bleak

  Blaming myself; I have failed and I’m weak

  Calculated decisions, how did I get it so wrong?

  I even fooled myself, I’ve been faking for so long

  The air becomes clearer as I reach the ground

  I’m led to a home where possibilities are found

  A pure spirit guides me to a place full of hope

  My strength builds, I can do more than just cope

  It’s time to make up for all the moments I’ve missed

  All the love and laughter, and frogs I could’ve kissed

  First I’ll truly lose myself, only then will I know

  How to live in the moment and truly let myself go

  Beth doesn’t seize to amaze me. She is an intelligent, creative woman. I should’ve guessed she’d be talented at expressing herself through poetry. I wouldn’t have a clue, it’s not my bag at all but I can certainly still appreciate it. I’m hooked after reading one, I need to read on and my ego wants to see if she’s written anything about me.

  Although I’m keeping a close eye on the time, part of me knows I should be composing myself, getting in the right frame of mind, focusing on the desired results, my goal…

  Just one or two more, these ones only look quick anyway.

  From One Cage To Another

  Light-hearted girly fun

  Bringing back my sun

  Accepting the choice

  Finding my own voice

  My heart’s less hurt

  So I play and I flirt

  Start trying new things

  Let’s see what it brings

  I stole my first kiss

  Wrote my Fuck It list

  Feeling more like me

  The me I’d like to be

  Joined a new gym

  Eyegasms and him

  Sparking my desire

  Awakening my fire

  But the truth hits hard

  So I return my guard

  He stayed and I ran

  My unattainable man

  Me? Am I ‘him’? I’m flattered but confused that she’s called me ‘unattainable’. I practically laid my dick on a plate for her at Tricks. Didn’t I also use that exact word to describe her before?

  The title of the next one makes me smile. I hesitate but curiosity gets the better of me.

  One Night(mare) Stand

  Living in the moment

  One night(mare) stand

  In a room alone but it

  Doesn’t go as planned

  He can’t wait to come

  And I can’t wait to leave

  I transform him into G

  I want him not Steve

  Dipped my toe in the water

  But I didn’t get wet

  What a stupid mistake

  One I hugely regret

  ‘I transform him into G’. More flattery from my lovely Bethany. So she thought about me at the time, even back then. She felt the strength in our connection from day one like I did. Other than kissing that girl at Tricks, which was to prove a point to Beth anyway, and that lame kiss at the 24/7 party, I’ve not so much as touched another girl since meeting her. My dick’s had a one track mind and anything other than Beth is pointless.

  Now there’s a mind trip I’ve been avoiding acknowledging.

  Considering the content of these poems, I’m wondering whether I should be reading them without asking her first after all. They’re more intimate than I’d imagined and now I reckon it’s likely that she left them in my pad unintentionally.

  Beth told me that she writes to vent and gave me the impression it was more like mentally spewing onto a page; messy and confusing. That may be her analogy but in hindsight, knowing Beth, venting for her is obviously going to be deep and analytical and
somewhat clinical, it’s in her nature.

  No, I should stop. But they’ve made me so curious to read more and it’s burning me knowing they’re right in front of me. A turn of a page can peel back another layer of the inner goings-on of Bethany Taylor. Without reading I can see there’s another three or four left.

  Fuck, where’s your self-control Jaxson?

  I’m supposed to be focused on the job in hand, one that I’ve worked hard to bring to fruition. Beth’s all up in my head… again. I can’t resist it. I can’t resist her.

  B, I came across ur poems in my pad. Do u mind if I read them? I’ve sort of accidentally read the first 3… I’m impressed & curious x

  I flick back over the poems I’ve read and resist the urge to glance at the others. She found me unattainable. That was obviously written before our first time, before she realised what she’s capable of with me, what we’re capable of together.

  ‘He can’t wait to come, I can’t wait to leave’ and ‘Dipped my toe in the water, but I didn’t get wet’. This woman is a fucking legend.

  My phone starts vibrating but not from a text, she’s calling me. Shit. I can’t answer. I cover up the light and a minute after it stops vibrating she sends a text.

  That’s shitty & underhand Jax. U shouldn’t have done that. They’re private. I’d never lie 2u but these r my private thoughts. Please don’t read any more. Come home & we can talk when u get back. This is all kinds of messed up.

  I think it’s safe to say that she’s pissed off. I suppose I have invaded her privacy and I do feel bad.

  Now I’m fucking beyond distracted. Fuck this, my head’s mashed up now anyway. I’ve no choice but to abandon my assignment and drive back. What a wasted journey, but there’s no way I can deal with that fucker now. I’ll reschedule him for tomorrow night instead.

  I’ll b home b4 midnight. Sorry B x

  11:53pm

  Well my night didn’t go to plan, yet again. But I can’t deny the comforting feeling of coming home to Beth, albeit a pissed off Beth that wants to ‘talk’. She’s sitting cross-legged on the sofa when I arrive. I feel like a teenager again.

  Growing up sometimes I’d walk in the house stinking of weed. My mother, with her sniffer dog senses, usually prowled in the background ready to pounce and lecture me. Her favourite punishment was to ground me and banish me to my room. Little did she know that this was also my favourite because not only did I get to skip the household chores, but I spent hours upon hours on my laptop.

  Admittedly many of those hours were initially spent researching women to appear on ‘Jaxson’s Jacking Off’ leaderboard. It was a tough selection process, like putting my dick through a vigorous S.A.S training programme. I think it must’ve increased my stamina and my standards in the long run though.

  After I realised I could be more productive with both hands on the keyboard, I discovered my passion and talent for computer programming and complex design. Some might say that I used my skills inappropriately for a few years, hacking into different networks and messing around with their shit for sport.

  Stunts like electronically stocking the school library with fictitious titles and booking them out to various teachers who were due some comeuppance. Finding it rewarding that the miserable screw-face Mr Guest would be receiving an overdue book notification requesting the return of ‘Boner Collector’ and ‘Any Hole’s A Goal’.

  The stunts got uglier as I got older and my skills and knowhow were untouchable.

  One of my friends, Charlie, got a bad beating from his dad because his school grades weren’t hitting the predicted levels. Charlie covered his dads back even though the prick did him over until he was black and blue. Of course he made sure there were no marks on his face and threatened his son to keep his mouth shut. I’d been pumping iron and training every day for over a year at that point so I could’ve easily beat the shit out of his father. He knew all he had to do was say the word, which he never did.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d been abused and probably wouldn’t be the last. So I took it upon myself to play the intelligent game. Instead of hitting him in the face, I hit him in the wallet, where it would really hurt him. I researched his successful designer clothing company and after a lot of trial and error I finally managed to infiltrate his website. Over a series of calculated manoeuvres, I sent discount codes to some of his registered customers. I started low to test out my plan, giving a selection of them five percent off their online orders. The buzz I got when it worked was unreal. After a few tweaks here and there I went for the jugular with a fifty percent discount code distributed to every single registered customer, over a thousand. I executed the moves over the Christmas period, about four hundred per day for three days. Once completed, all that was left to do was to sit back and watch the chaos unfold.

  Orders came flying in and because the company had the stock they automatically fulfilled the orders with a quick turnaround to meet their Christmas delivery promises. By the time the shit hit the fan the damage had already been done and deliveries had been shipped.

  Being the busiest time of year, the nightmare it created took longer to identify and untangle. The company expected it to be its most lucrative period but suffered a ridiculous hit, triggering a nosedive. They started the New Year operating in the red and struggled to claw back into the black. I had plenty more tricks up my sleeve and could’ve easily pursued the revenge and buried his company.

  Charlie’s dad was too distracted with work to bother with his grades anymore so it wasn’t necessary. Plus I didn’t want my actions to impact the innocent members of the family, just his dad. As a backup, I also got Charlie into weight training and he took to it like a duck to water. He soon bulked up and could handle himself if needed.

  I worked alone and never breathed a word to anybody about my extracurricular activities. I learned that revenge was sweet and I developed a very sweet tooth. If you cross me, don’t bother watching your back because you won’t see me coming… They never did, still don’t and never will.

  I soon worked my way up to the more intricate systems and I was pretty much self-taught. In my late teens, I started paying serious attention to the obvious business acumen I’d inherited from my father and realised that that combined with my talent for programming and code, could be lethal.

  If I used these skills for legal and lucrative work, I’d soon become a success at whatever I set my mind to. I’d been into my fitness for a few years by then too so it made complete sense to combine my passion for fitness with my other strengths. I was untouchable and flew head first into a fast paced world of wealth.

  Maybe I have my mother’s punishments to thank for me becoming a self-made millionaire before my twenty-fifth birthday. Theoretically, I was a millionaire way before that, but my self-made fortune was always what I kept tabs on. No matter how much my mother doubted my abilities back then, she will always profess that my achievements were written in the stars. Apparently I was destined to rise to greatness given the family footprints that I followed.

  I empty my pockets into the marble bowl on the table in the entranceway then hang up my jacket and kick off my shoes. I intentionally left my bag in the car, preparing for a possible ambush. I did remember to bring the notepad though.

  Approaching her with caution, I try to read exactly how pissed off she might be. Thankfully it’s written all over her innocent freckled face that any anger seems to have left the building. I drop the notepad on the coffee table.

  “Hey.”

  I reach down and kiss the top of her head, her hair smells of coconut. “I’m sorry, okay?” Sitting down beside her, she studies my face and I continue. “I should’ve asked beforehand and I was out of order.”

  There, that was the honest one-liner I rehearsed in the car. That should suffice.

  “Apology accepted and yes, you were out of order. I would never have read something of yours without asking first. They’re special to me. Nobody reads them.”

  “Beth,
it was in my notepad. You should’ve torn them out or something, if they’re that private. I thought you’d put them there for me to read…”

  “Really?” She interrupts. O oh. Her innocent face fades fast. “So, I specifically wrote my poems down because I wanted you to read them…. then what? I just left them lying around like a trail of breadcrumbs in the hope that you’d pick them up and be nosey?” Is that rhetorical? I don’t want to interrupt her. “What a farce!” Yes, it’s rhetorical. “Jax it’s just basic common decency to ask first, especially when it’s obvious what they are.”

  “I said I’m sorry, which you accepted. I didn’t realise they’d be so… personal or that you’d be so touchy over them. I can’t unread them so can we leave it now?” I give her my best ‘forgive me please’ pout, which takes the pissed off edge from her face. She begins to crack a slight smile and whacks me on my thigh. Shaking her head, she rolls her eyes, probably in annoyance at herself for caving. Time to add a little humour, maybe… “So can I read the others now then?”

  Shit, wrong move again. Her face doesn’t say ‘vexed’ any more, it says ‘I give up’.