“Give me a ring in the morning and we’ll meet up. If you can walk, that is.” I heard low muttering. “Oh–Matt wants to know how the pitch is going.”
“I didn’t get it.” I sighed. “He gave it to Poppy.”
Aidan relayed the news and Matt called Joseph a cunt.
“He says–”
“I heard what he said,” I groaned.
“I told you, he’s a super villain. I bet he even has an evil lair.”
I peered through the glass at the hotel suite. “If he does, it’s a bit of a gay one.”
“Suits me! I’m going to love you and leave you, Lei-Lei. We’re trying to get drunk on Bud and it’s so not working.”
“Well…good luck with that. Maybe move on to the Mojitos,” I said.
“Ooh, good call.”
I checked the time as I hung up. It was barely three o’clock. Joseph had said he wouldn’t be home late, as if that meant anything at all, and I had hours to kill yet.
I couldn’t spend it all in the evil-gay lair.
With my new bag tossed over my shoulder, I made my way to the lift. The lobby was roaring with guests and staff, and I had to fight my way through, a nice little contrast to quiet hotels I’d sauntered into when whoring. On the other side of the glass doors lay a dirty yellow sun and copper sulphate sky, like something from a comic book.
The traffic noises and shouting voices were almost comforting. I was a little disappointed at how unglamorous–almost vulgar–the architecture was on Pearl Street. Boxy offices alternated with glass-fronted skyscrapers and scrappy parking lots. Funny, how London can spoil one in that regard, if not many, many others. We hadn’t bothered with the Finance District on my last trip to New York; we were about to start our LPC courses and needed a break from all things Law. Now, remembering Poppy’s interest, I twisted round and headed for Wall Street.
Pillared buildings in pale stone soon loomed and I felt strangely at home beside them. They were battered by weather, fists and nails, even bombs, but they stood tall, proud, unfazed by it all. They were the trees in New York, breathing in souls instead of carbon dioxide and silently spitting out the remains.
Aidan had called me a succubus. While I knew he meant no harm, the word festered...I wasn’t so different from the town’s trees, but I didn’t just breathe in. I stole.
I couldn’t stand outside the Stock Exchange for long–it was too busy and I was wary of looking suspicious–so I walked farther around to Broadway, where they had actual trees, and installed myself on a bench.
I had asked Joseph who he was, but he’d evaded the question. Everyone else seemed to answer it easily: a cunt, as Matt observed so graciously. His little tirade this morning had seeped into my skin and I heard him say over and over, what do you see in him?
The truth was that I didn’t know. I wanted him–needed him, almost–with the kind of primal longing I’d thought had died in my teens. Laying a finger on him was like going to war. I didn’t fight to win, though. I soared toward defeat with an aching sweetness, as if it was somehow the point of it all. The edge of the knife.
I did not know the man beneath the flesh. I smelled him, tasted him, lay anointed in his sweat and God knew what else, but I didn’t know what he liked to eat for breakfast or his favourite newspaper. How he’d lost his virginity. When he called his mother.
That said…knowing those things about Matt hadn’t made much difference in the end.
“Mind if I sit with you?”
I glanced up at a middle-aged woman in a badly fitting suit.
“Oh, no. Go ahead.” I gestured to the space next to me.
“A Brit, huh?” She pulled cigarettes from her bag. “Mind if I smoke?”
“No,” I lied. “And yes…I’m from England.”
She eyed my dress and heels. “On business?”
“More or less.” I smiled ruefully.
She struggled with her lighter for a moment and finally took a deep drag. “Jeez…I needed that. Men are dipshits.”
“Bad day?”
“Oh, you bet.” She shook her head, laughing hoarsely. “Have you got a dipshit?”
“I’ve got a few. Some shittier than others.”
“That’s the modern way, huh?” She inhaled again. “One is enough for me.”
“It isn’t for me.” The honesty, despite her raised brows, felt like it had sucked ten pounds off me.
“At least you know what you want.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” I sighed. “Especially when they expect you to know.”
“They expect you to know everything except how to fix a flat tire. Otherwise, all they’d be good for is their dicks.”
I giggled before I could help myself. “What did he do, your poor man? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”
“You’re so polite. I love it. Long story, wouldn’t want to bore you. But trust me when I say he’s a dipshit. If they gave awards, he’d be rolling in them.”
“Rolling in shit.” I started to laugh.
She joined me, clucking and choking at the same time. “You said it.” She killed the end of her cigarette with a scuffed heel, and rose back into the sun. “Well, it was nice meeting you. Enjoy New York.”
I nodded. “You too. Good luck with your dip–your man.”
“Thanks, honey. You take care now.”
I watched her totter back down the boulevard, before getting to my own feet and heading back to the hotel. Rush hour was swelling and the roads were fat with tour buses and yellow taxis. I navigated by landmarks.
Back in the comfort of the air-conditioned suite, I ordered a sandwich and a bowl of passion fruit sorbet–sorbet!–on room service. I had fun tipping the pretty waitress with another stack of Joseph’s bills. As I ate, I flicked through a million TV channels and ogled some tanned, fresh-faced boys who I was probably old enough to have babysat on some awful reality show and then…well, I think I fell asleep. That’s what I get for lounging on a huge bed with a full stomach.
The screech of my mobile made me groan. It’s funny–I’d assumed that giving up whoring meant my life would no longer be ruled by that little metal box. Evidently, I’d been very wrong.
“Um…hello?” I muttered, expecting it to be my parents.
“Lei-Lei. Is it okay if we come up, or is the Marquis de Sade now in residence?”
“Aid.” I paused to yawn. “Erm. Is it really necessary?” I glanced at the time. A little past eight. I’d been spark out for a few hours.
“Don’t you want our fabulous company?” he whined.
“I’m not sure Matt is feeling that fabulous toward me.”
“No, he isn’t.” He lowered his voice. “Seriously–I think you should talk to him. He keeps going on about ringing your parents.”
“What…what?” I sprang up from the bed. “Like, to tell them?”
“Yeah. He’s pretty drunk. Actually…we both are. Dramatic paaause! But he’s adamant they should know.”
“Can’t you talk some sense into him?” I begged.
“I’ve been trying for the past hour. You know what he’s like. All stubborn…” He sighed in adoration. “He’s all honour and virtue, dark and tortured. Like Batman. Mattman!”
I would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so dire. “I’m not sure about the honour bit.”
“Maybe if we pronounce it on-whore?”
“Or the virtue, come to think of it.”
“Well, he won’t come for me. That’s practically chastity,” he said dryly. “Anyway. Can we come up?”
“I suppose you’d better. You can’t stick around long, though–Joseph might be home soon.”
“Home, eh? Which nest are you in?”
“Fuck off,” I said. “Sorry. Erm. The third suite on the eleventh floor. Prank me when you’re outside, okay?”
“Okay. But don’t let us in.”
“What? Why?”
“He can say his piece at the door and I’ll drag him home…letting him
in there isn’t going to do any good.”
“I can handle him,” I protested.
“Look. The boy’s a chocolate orange right now. He thinks that if he whacks himself hard enough, he’ll split off into yummy little bite-size segments and he’ll fit in your mouth that way,” said Aidan.
“Exactly how drunk are you?”
“Chocolate orange, Lei-Lei.” Then he hung up.
I cleared up my tray and dove into the shower, lathering away the Broadway woman’s smoke. When I had dried myself down, I left my hair to dry in ringlets and threw on short satin pyjamas. It was hardly the outfit I wanted to greet Joseph in, but I couldn’t answer the door in just stockings, alas.
My phone rang and I padded over to the door, my mouth dry at the thought of having Matt in Joseph’s space. I did mean to stall him, but Matt filed straight in with a silent nod, staring about the place before hauling himself onto a sofa. I cracked open bottles of Coke from the mini-bar and set them on the black marble coffee table, exchanging winces with an annoyed and bemused Aidan. A pair of glazed eyes taunted me and it was only then I realized that I’d worn these pyjamas when Matt stayed over earlier this week–now he remembered how I’d knelt down and sucked him, how he’d peeled them off me before sliding into my bed. After a few seconds, his cheeks flushed and he lowered his gaze.
One of us had to talk. “So...good day?”
“Yeah,” said Aidan. “We found this great little bar on–”
“They should know,” Matt cut in sharply.
“Who?” I said, feigning ignorance.
“Your parents.” The glass tumbler stood empty as he glugged Coke from the bottle. “They should know how you’re earning the money that keeps them.”
Aidan shook his head. “I’ve been trying to tell him, but he won’t listen–”
“You don’t know what it’s like though, Aid.” Matt slurred.
The velour sofa grazed my legs as I shifted about. “What do you mean?”
“Forget I said it.”
“Why would I hurt them like that? They don’t need to know and besides, I owe them. They paid for my courses, my rent for ages, everything–”
“Oh, come on! They must know you’re not doing some pissy paperwork, the amount you’re paying. I can’t see how they sleep at night. They shouldn’t want it for you.” Matt glanced about the suite again, his upper lip twitching at a pile of Joseph’s clothes draped on a chair. “Not this.”
“I’m fine with this,” I said coldly. “It’s my choice. And they don’t know,” I added, suddenly very insecure at the fact. It was bad enough that they knew about Charlie.
“Tell her who we saw in the bar, Matt,” Aidan said. “What was the name of his team again? Basketball player, about seven foot…”
“I mean, it’s pretty fucked up if you think about it. I offered her everything and she still made her choice.” He spat the word out as if it tasted rotten.
“She is in the room, you know,” I muttered.
“We should leave.” Aidan started to get up. “Come on, Mattman.”
“No. I came up to say my bit and she should hear me out. You should do that for me, Leila,” he added, looking me in the eye for the first time in days.
“Okay…” I shrugged helplessly. “What is it you want to say?”
“You’re pissed as anything. You’ll regret this.” Aidan grabbed Matt’s arm, but he was swatted away.
“Do you love him?” said Matt. His shoulders were hunched over, elbows on his knees. He looked ready to pounce. Where were the words shaped like weapons when I needed them the most? Fucking chocolate orange, indeed.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“If you love him now,” he said through gritted teeth, “then you loved him when you were with me. It doesn’t just happen in a day. And then…then you were never mine.” He looked away. “Not even for a minute.”
Aidan, now behind the sofa, grimaced and slapped his forehead.
“I don’t really know how to answer that.”
“Yes or no is good,” Matt said.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. Jagged tears scratched at my eyeballs.
“I think you’re lying. I think you know what a twat he is and can’t even admit it. You knew right from the beginning–God, I knew!–that he was the one you wanted,” he spat. “Look at you, all cosy up here with him. You should be fucking ashamed of yourself–”
“Hey!” Aidan snapped.
“That’s enough.” The door creaked and Joseph filled the frame. His face creased, a cold sheet, his eyes murderous. I’d seen him annoyed before, even angry, but never furious, and he closed in like the snap of hot air as a storm broke to swallow. “Apologize. Now.” He dropped his briefcase and jacket–normal, controlled moves–but there was a vicious edge to his tone. “Apologize and get the fuck out of my room.”
Matt chewed his lip hard. He wanted to explode at him–I could see it in his balled fists and furrowed brow. Slowly, he stood.
“I’m sorry, Leila,” he muttered. It must have pained him terribly to submit to Joseph, but it was the least sincere thing he’d ever said to me.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Joseph held the door open for Matt and Aidan and then slammed it neatly behind them. “Are you all right?”
I nodded absently. Lies, lies.
“What the hell was he doing in here?”
“I made a mistake. He was drunk.” I licked my lips, inhaling as Joseph sat down next to me.
He reached over and tucked a ringlet behind my ear. “You look like a little girl lost.”
“Sorry.”
“I like it.” He stretched a palm over my knee and stroked slowly. “Don’t worry about him, Leila. He’s sore. It’ll pass.”
I managed another nod.
“And if he carries on like that, I can have words with him. Now.”
A little kiss brushed just below my ear. Oh.
“I’m going to get a shower. You’re not to come into the bedroom for the next half an hour,” he said. “Are…are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, Sir.” I smiled up at him, hoping my eyes weren’t red. “Should I be suspicious?”
Now his lips caught mine and his tongue probed softly. He stood. “No…but you should have that word.” There was a heavy pause as he sized me up. “You should be naked, too.”
With that, I was alone with thirty fat, sucking minutes for company.
Matt’s outburst should have neutralized my guilt over our break-up. I’d hurt him and it had been rough and bloody, but I was still shocked at how he’d spoken to me. He had never made me feel small before and my tears raged in their ducts, aching for a release I was not going to grant. Not now.
Matt knew what I did. I could make a hundred excuses for becoming a whore and that was all they would be–excuses. It ripped him apart.
I don’t know how I managed to pass that half hour, but I counted each minute. I stripped off as soon as Joseph disappeared, not wanting to sweat. Flicking through the TV channels again took my mind off Matt’s words…and drew it to the word Joe had requested.
I’d never had to give one before. My skin fizzed at the notion.
On my way to see a client, I would relish the thrill of the unexpected. This was different, deeper, somehow. Visceral. Broken by Matt, by my parents, by the last few days, I prayed he wouldn’t notice. It sounds stupid, but I felt like my life would be different on the other side of that bedroom door.
I hoped it would be.
I waited for exactly thirty-two minutes and then I tip-toed in, my pulse wavering.
The room was dark, save for a few dozen candles dotted around. The flames swayed and flickered, rioting against the air. Joseph sat naked on the edge of the bed and he beckoned me to him with a single finger.
A pile of silk coiled on the bed: five long black scarves.
Oh God. He was going to dress me like Charlotte.
He pulled up the fi
rst scarf, trailing it through his fingers.
“Let’s see if I can remember how this goes, huh?” He smiled as he folded it lengthways, creating a long strip.
A blindfold.
It hovered before my eyes as he paused.
“You’re trembling,” he said softly. “Are you afraid?”
“A bit. Is that stupid?”
“No, sweetheart.” He wound the blindfold about my neck and tugged me in for a kiss.
His mouth was so warm, almost yielding–as if I could ever drink my fill of him–but the whole night remained ours, and we had all the time in the world just for this. Like the farewell kiss he’d given me on the night he rampaged in my shower, it had an intimate quality that bore no name. Not lust, not love. The first stirring.
I watched the dancing flames stick to his outline. They cast him in a shroud burnt orange and honey, and he looked holy, almost.
A God.
“Do you trust me, Leila?”
“Yes.” It was only part truth, but what if I said no?
He let the scarf slide smooth and cool around my collarbone and I shivered. Then he stepped behind me and the room turned to ink. He checked beneath the blindfold for gaps, his fingertips grazing my nose and cheeks. The knot was quick and fierce. “One down,” he said.
He bound my breasts next.
My flesh goose-pimpled from the air conditioning and my nipples jutted out in brazen pride, all the more sensitive in my lack of sight. He tied the scarf just below my shoulder blades and my breasts sat up tightly, half spilling over and into the cool air.
The carpet crunched as he dropped to his knees and cold silk ran up the inside of my leg. I spread just a little for him. Though I’d dressed like this for several clients, the blindfold had only been for photos. Blotting out senses with a stranger wasn’t wise. With this man? Charlotte felt clever, even if my brain was numb. As for me...I soared in the froth of panic.
I gasped as Joseph parted my outer lips and bore the scarf between them. He pulled it toward my hip and fastened so it dug into my skin. When he finished the second side, my clit sat exposed against the black fabric, and the vaguest movement made me moan. The trailing ends tickled my thighs, too.
Finally, he stood again and brought my wrists together at the small of my back. The knot sat so that it grazed my spine when I moved. Each time, I shivered, a helpless weapon in the pursuit of my own undoing.
Breaking Leila Page 27
