by Isobel Rey
‘Phillipa left, then Tony found me!’
‘Oh my fucking God!’ Romy’s mouth fell open.
‘And he … Well, he said …’
‘What? He said what?’
‘He offered to …’
Romy’s eyes rolled with realisation. ‘Oh yes! Go for it. Every girl in the office wants to fuck him. He’s been with us for six months and he doesn’t seem to have done anyone yet, except Phillipa, obviously. He must be more into fucking management. Although I hear he’s fucked quite a few clients. If Nathan knew he’d be out on his ear.’
‘He told me everyone calls me the Ice Queen or Ice Maiden or something.’
Romy’s enthusiasm suddenly evaporated. She looked uncomfortable.
‘Romy? Oh my God … Is it true? They call me that?’
Romy sighed ‘Well, you have this untouchable look, sort of virginal. And you don’t give off vibes that you might be up for it, which is unusual.’
Alexia suddenly looked like a child and Romy felt huge guilt. She wanted to protect her friend; her doll-like beauty always made her look so vulnerable, and never more so than now.
‘Don’t take any notice,’ said Romy. ‘The girls are just jealous ’cos you’re gorgeous, and the boys just all want to get there first. You take your time.’ She blew out her cheeks. ‘Although Tony … I wouldn’t mind tripping him up and making sure I’m underneath him when he lands!’
‘Romy!’
‘Look, he’s gorgeous. And it wouldn’t be serious … You should think about taking him up on the offer. You need to get over Carter. I’m just talking about a damned good fuck, not an affair. You need it.’
Alexia couldn’t deny that. Watching Tony last night, she realised that she needed it, and badly.
‘That’s not all that happened,’ she said quietly.
‘There’s more? Bloody hell.’
‘Well, after Phillipa left and Tony found me, and I told him to get lost … After that, he started to leave, but … Oh God!’
Alexia collapsed on the bed and closed her eyes.
‘Oh God … What?’
Alexia just lay there shaking her head, her hands covering her face.
‘What? What?’ Romy was desperate.
Alexia sat bolt upright. ‘Nathan Fallon walked in.’
‘Oh buggering hell!’ Romy looked startled for a moment, then started to laugh with the craziness of it.
Alexia was beside herself. ‘He took one look at me and knew that Tony had been …’
‘He thought Tony had fucked you!’
Alexia was miserable again. She buried her face in her hands. Romy gave a low whistle.
‘Wow! The white whale thinks you shagged Tony.’
‘The white what?’
‘The white whale,’ repeated Romy. ‘It’s what we call him. The big one no one can catch. No one knows why, but he doesn’t fuck around – well, not so that anyone knows if he does. And it’s not because no one’s tried. God, I’d give anything for a night with him, he’s fucking gorgeous. I’ve been his PA for a year now and he’s never flirted with me once. He’s just a good boss … Damn him! He built that company from nothing, he knows everyone, goes to all the best parties; he’s the catch of the century. I saw him in tennis shorts once …’ Romy closed her eyes in remembrance. ‘Tight tennis shorts. Oh God, is he ever a mouthful. Not sure I could cope … I’d love to try though.’ She giggled.
‘You should have seen the way he looked at me, Romy. Like I was a cheap little tart!’
‘Oh I’m sure he didn’t … It was a party, and he knows how people behave in this industry. Just ’cos he doesn’t join in doesn’t mean he doesn’t know about it.’
‘No, I know he thinks that … It was the way he …’ Her voice trailed away.
Romy pushed a blonde lock away from Alexia’s pale face. There was a tear running down her pink cheek.
‘Oh sweetie, don’t. So he thinks you fucked Tony, so what?’
‘Because it’s a temp job and I need to keep it. If he thinks badly of me then he might not give me the job permanently.’
‘Listen, as long as you do your job OK, you’ll be kept on. It’s only temporary while they try you out, so stop worrying …’
‘But then …’ Alexia bit her lip.
‘Then what? what?’
‘Nothing. I just … I don’t know.’ Alexia looked desolate again. ‘I don’t want him thinking that about me.’
‘Why? Want a shot at the while whale yourself?’ Romy cocked an eyebrow.
‘Well, that could never happen now, could it?’ Alexia realised what she’d said and tried to backtrack. ‘I mean, could never have happened …’
‘Hmm,’ said Romy knowingly. ‘Be careful who you have a crush on. Tony you could fuck and throw back into the pond, but Nathan Fallon – he’s not catch and release. And you don’t need your heart broken again.’
The two girls fell silent. Then Romy jumped up.
‘Mind you, if you just want to get back on the bike Richard is going to be here in a minute.’
‘Who?’
‘He’s an old mate. He needs somewhere to crash for a bit so I told him he could have the sofa. He’s American, very pretty, complete tart but great fun. He could pump your tyres up! Come on, get up, he’ll be here soon and you look like a fright. I’ll run you a bath.’
She flounced out of the room, singing to herself. For a moment Alexia could see the old Romy, punky and proud. You can change on the outside, she thought, but not on the inside, not really. The thought made her sad. She knew she needed to change, to reinvent herself the way Romy had done. She couldn’t bear to think that the office staff thought she was frigid. But maybe she was. Her sexual encounters with her college boyfriend had been uninspiring. She’d slept with him because that’s what you did. And Carter? That was horrible; she didn’t want to think about him or his bedroom.
But then last night had proved to her that the aching in her loins was as strong as any woman’s, stronger perhaps because she had been so starved of satisfaction.
Alexia heard Romy turn the tap in the bathroom and heard the water running into the bath. She swung her legs over the bed and looked at the floor. There was her laptop. She thought for a moment, then reached down to pick it up. She turned it on and found herself slowly typing a name into Google. She was jittery and her fingers were jumpy. She seemed to have trouble typing straight. N-A-T-G- no wait, that’s an H-A-N …
She tapped out the 12 letters that made up the name but her finger hovered over the search button. Why was she nervous? She made the final tap and half a dozen pictures of the gorgeous Nathan Fallon jumped off the page. Her stomach flipped, a jolt of electricity running down the invisible line from stomach to pussy.
There he was: Nathan Fallon at Wimbledon; Nathan Fallon with Premier League football managers; Nathan Fallon with his arm around that gorgeous women’s Olympic sprinting champion; Nathan Fallon alone, in black tie, smouldering into the camera. Looking into those eyes, the same eyes that had looked down at her in the boardroom, the surge to her pussy was undeniable.
He was like a panther, with his black hair, black suit, and searing blue eyes. He was handsome, but not in the conventional sense; his face had a smouldering intelligence. He was in his late 30s and very self-assured. Nathan Fallon, star sports agent. His image stared out at her from the screen. He’s my boss, she thought. The boss who thinks I’m a tart.
She threw herself back on the bed. Images of Nathan swam before her eyes and her face burned again. She hadn’t done anything wrong and here she was feeling like it was she who’d behaved appallingly, when her only real crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. How could this have happened to her?
She lay on the bed, prostrate with searing shame and horror. She could hear the water tumbling into the bath as if it were far away in the distance. She closed her eyes and listened; the sound of the liquid was soothing, warm and inviting, just waiting for her to step into it, and wash away her shame.
She realised her hand was on her chest. She felt a deep urge to rub her nipple. Slowly, almost guiltily, she moved her hand and ran her fingers gently over it. She felt a tiny spark of electricity. She did it again; the same spark. She pressed a little firmer and curled her toes at the soft and lilting pleasure. She pulled down the strap of her nightie and exposed the nipple.
It was pink and hard now, proud and begging. She held it between the tips of her thumb and forefinger and increased the pressure into a slow pinch. The pressure revealed that straight line connection between her nipple and her pussy. She pinched it again and the tug got stronger. She pushed her other hand under the covers and ran her middle finger down into her now damp curls until she found the nub. It was already engorged.
She began to rub gently. She could hear the water fill the bath as her own wetness began to increase. She rubbed the flat of her middle finger up and down as her other hand pinched and tweaked her erect nipple. She dug her heels into the bed. Romy was just the other side of the open door; she could hear her humming in the kitchen. She had to stay quiet.
She rubbed harder, pressing the length of her finger against her clit, trying to imagine it was a cock. But whose cock? She had started thinking about Nathan, but realised that Tony’s face kept swimming into view.
Nathan’s face, then Tony’s face. Nathan, then Tony … Nathan face, then Tony’s’ face … Nathan’s face, then Tony … Tony’s face …Tony’s cock …
She stopped abruptly and gasped. What was going on? She didn’t like Tony, he was arrogant and cocky. Cocky! Literally. But Romy was right: he would be a hell of a ride. Nathan, well, he was altogether different. Thinking about him felt dangerous; he was dangerous. Too dangerous for her? He wasn’t a man to be played with, not that she knew how to play with men, Romy was right again. She needed to learn. Maybe Tony was the man to practise on, even if it was just in a fantasy?
She started rubbing again, this time harder, picking up speed. She arched her back as Tony’s blue eyes hoved into her imagination. She could hear his voice. ‘Ice can – melt …’
She groaned and thrust a finger into her soaking pussy, but it was a poor substitute for Tony’s cock. But she rubbed and rubbed and bucked underneath her own hand until she came. It was a short and almost perfunctory orgasm, but she needed it so badly after the tension of last night. The orgasm she’d given herself in that bathroom was intense, but nothing close to what she needed.
She lay still, breathing hard. The sound of the bath water, which had seemed so far away a moment ago, now re-entered her consciousness.
She got to her feet and looked at the laptop, still brazenly flaunting pictures of Nathan. She slammed the lid shut and walked into the living room.
‘Hey there!’ said a scruffy young guy.
‘What?’ She gasped.
‘Hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle ya!’
She heard a southern American drawl and looked at the dishevelled guy, wearing torn jeans and an old T-shirt. He might have needed a tidy up, but there was no denying he was sexy. His hair was collar-length and a little greasy, and he was unshaven, which gave him a lived-in look.
‘I’m Richard … Sorry, I thought Romy told you I was coming.’
Alexia composed herself. ‘Yes, she did. Sorry, I was – er …’
‘Yeah, I’m sorry I’ve disturbed you two …’
Alexia thought that he was referring to her and Romy when he said “two”. But she realised Romy was in the kitchen and Richard was nodding towards the bedroom.
‘Two? No, there’s no one else in there, just me … I just got up’
‘Got up?’ he said. ‘I thought maybe you’d just got off!’
Alexia flushed.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘A little morning self-love is a great thing. Keeps you healthy.’
Alexia was still stumbling for a reply when Romy walked in.
‘Hey, you’ve met! Richard, this is Alexia. Alexia, this is Richard.’
Richard took Alexia’s hand and kissed it theatrically. He stopped for a moment, holding her hand and breathing in. A tiny half sniff. Alexia realised it must still smell of her come. She yanked it away as her face reddened.
‘I’m making breakfast,’ said Romy and went back into the kitchen.
Richard’s eyes twinkled at Alexia. ‘Maybe I could help you out one morning.’ He cocked an eyebrow and sauntered into the kitchen.
Alexia stood in the living room, her head swirling.
‘Alexia, get in the bath before it runs over!’ shouted Romy.
‘Oh my God, the bath!’
Alexia dashed into the bathroom and shut off the taps. She locked the door, then wiped the mirror with a towel and took a look at her reflection. She looked like a wood nymph, all wide-eyed and innocent. But her little hand job had left her flushed and wanton-looking.
She stepped away from the mirror and took off her nightie. She looked down at the little triangle of hair over her pussy. Blonde curls still glistened. Her lips were pink and swollen. She got into the bath, lowering her body into the water to wash away the evidence of her morning’s pleasure. The warm water lapped her lips and soothed her after her frantic rubbing. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily.
Romy was cooking bacon, and the smell of it was wafting into the bathroom. Richard was helping himself to coffee and sat on the windowsill in the tiny kitchen.
‘She’s nice.’
‘Hey, she’s had a rough time, so watch it,’ warned Romy.
‘OK, OK, just sayin’ …’
‘Yeah, and you were just thinkin’ …’ She copied his American drawl and curtailed verbs.
‘Actually, she looks real sweet.’
‘She is, and she’s been with a complete bastard. Took a huge amount of guts to leave him.’
‘How do you guys know each other? She’s not like your usual friends.’
‘I know. School together – hadn’t seen for years, then ran into her. She was always a quiet one. But she’s nice, you know. And I wanted to help. She needs …’
Richard’s eyes glinted.
‘Hey!’ Romy slapped his arm.
‘Am I wrong?’ asked Richard teasingly.
‘No. No, you’re not.’ Romy sighed. ‘I think she’ll come out of her shell once she’s settled down at work.’
‘You got her a job too?’
‘Er, yeah. But …’
‘She no good at it?’
‘No she’ll be great … But you know what it’s like at my office, it’s a bit on the wild side for her.’
‘Well, then she’ll definitely come out of her shell.’ Richard smirked.
‘Yeah, I just hope she enjoys it, I don’t want to see her hurt again. She needs to get back in the saddle but not with another arsehole.’
‘I’m not an asshole!’
Romy threw a tea towel at him.
‘Hey, watch it, sister!’
Richard folded the towel up neatly and put it on the counter top.
‘Look, I won’t touch her if she doesn’t want me to, and if she does, I’ll be real gentle, in every sense … OK?’
Romy shook her head. ‘Well, she is a grown woman, and a gentle jiggle with you might do her good. Better than Tony – or Nathan.’
‘Who’s Tony …? Nathan? How many guys does this chick have lined up?’
‘You’ve seen her. They’re queuing round the block, she just doesn’t know it.’
‘That’s kinda what’s sweet about her.’
Romy sighed. ‘Yes, yes, it is … But you can’t stay sweet for ever.’
‘And ain’t that the truth!’ Richard laughed. Then he smacked Romy’s arse and sauntered back into the living room. He walked past the bathroom door. He stopped and contemplated Alexia’s body in the bathwater and felt himself harden slightly. He blew out a long breath and moved on into the living room.
In the bathroom, Alexia was lying back, still staring at the door. She’d heard every word from the kit
chen.
She looked down at her newly manicured muff. It was time to change, she knew that. It was time to claim her place in the world as a woman; not a good little girl, but a fully rounded, sexual woman.
‘You can’t stay sweet for ever.’ She repeated Romy’s words to herself – and she knew it was true.
Chapter Three
Alexia spent the weekend in a daze. She tried to busy herself making her bedroom look more like her own room, buying cushions and baubles and new curtains. Her credit card was complaining, but she needed to nest and feel secure.
When she’d finished, her room looked like a French boudoir in beautiful blues and greens, with jewel-coloured cushions on her bed, and gorgeous drapes framing the floor-length window.
‘Wow,’ said Romy. ‘Who’s the lucky guy who’s going to get seduced in here?’
Alexia felt good about her new little haven. It was the first time since she’d left college that she’d truly had a space of her own. It was tiny, but it was hers, and that was all she needed.
Richard and Romy spent most of Saturday and Sunday out and about, leaving Alexia to her own devices. They’d invited her along but she wanted some alone time.
She couldn’t get Friday night out of her head. The sight of Tony’s buttocks kept intruding on her thoughts; the way the muscles in his perfect, tight arse twitched and flexed as he pumped Phillipa over and over. She didn’t want to think about it, but the images just invaded her mind. Whatever she did to distract herself just reminded her of that night …
She was washing dishes, and the slurping water made her think of the wet, slapping sound of Tony’s cock in Phillipa’s cunt. She leant over the table to pick up her handbag, and saw Phillipa’s arching back and begging eyes, urging Tony to pump faster and harder. She went to the kitchen door, and saw Nathan stride through it; saw his eyes, and how he looked at her. Nathan.
She still couldn’t fathom the expression on his face when he’d found her. He’d looked at her with what? Hostility? Disappointment? She couldn’t pin it down, but the image kept looming into view, nagging at her, reproaching her. But she hadn’t done anything wrong, so why did she feel so wretched?
‘Get a grip!’ she barked out loud to herself.
