“Liz.” He takes my arm. “Don’t go because of me.” Please don’t do that with your eyes Nathan. I’m not the one who caused this. “Okay, you’ve convinced me,” he says, still with that sad puppy expression.
“Of what?”
“I’m in the wrong, and I’ve been a first-class dick,” he shouts over George Michael. “Please, have one drink with me... for Christmas.”
Say no Liz. This cannot happen. Too late, he’s ordering you wine. Wine for crying out loud.
“No Nathan,” I bark.
“Here, get it down your neck.” He hands me the glass, and idiotically I down it in one go.
“Another?” he smirks, waving his cash at the bartender.
I shake some sense into my tipsy head. I need a break from the awful music, and Nathan. I need to freshen up before I fall over. I make the usual excuse of needing to powder my nose and climb the iron staircase, fighting my way through the drunks.
I rinse my face over the sink as girls enter, trotting around in their heels, sharing cubicles, and generally talking crap. I’m not paralytic, yet, but feeling it more on my empty stomach. I dry my cheeks with a paper towel and take a breath.
As I make my way out onto the landing, I feel my phone vibrating in my bag. I quickly take it out and see Adrien’s name flashing. My head spins at the thought of hearing his smooth voice.
I’m not in the greatest place to answer, but it’s better than downstairs I suppose. I can’t leave him hanging can I?
“Adrien,” I smile.
“Elizabeth, you got my flowers?” he asks as I put my hand over my right ear to drown out the dreadful music.
“Yes, thank you. It was very sweet.”
The door to the side of me opens and a ginger haired guy stumbles out, tucking in his shirt. He’s a uni student, who clearly cannot hold his beer. He glares at me and winks, while licking his lips.
“Well.” He staggers toward me. “You’re very nice... sweetheart.”
“Who is that?” Adrien asks as I try to dodge the guy so he doesn’t touch me.
“Hold on a sec, Adrien.” I bring down my phone.
“Piss-off!” I push away the drunkard. “Come near me again and I’ll smack you in the face,” I warn, lifting the phone back to my ear.
“Elizabeth, where are you?” Adrien shouts as I keep my eye on the pervert hovering.
“I’m fine, Adrien.”
“Where are you?” he demands.
I eyeball the drunk as he slowly descends the stairs, giving me one final dirty ogle.
“I’m fine... he’s gone,” I breathe out.
“Elizabeth, you shouldn’t be out if you can’t look after yourself,” he says. “Have you been taking your tonic, and are you drunk?” What a ridiculous thing to ask me. “Well?” I move across to the other wall so people can get by me.
“If... I... said... no,” I stretch out my words, seductively. “What would you do, Adrien?”
“Elizabeth?” he bites.
“Look, I’m not best pleased with this conversation, Mr Knight,” I toy with him. “Why don’t you tell me what you will do to me on Saturday? That’s a much more pleasing dialogue to participate in.”
“Not a good time to joke with me, Elizabeth. Where are you? I’ll come and pick you up.”
I wait for a moment. Should, or shouldn’t I tell him? Do I really want to be told what to do by the most beautiful man on the planet? If I do, it’s giving him the right to control me. My mum raised me well in that department. Mind, she hasn’t managed to take her own advice in her forty-five years on this earth.
“Elizabeth!”
“Err...Ad...Adrien,” I stutter. “You...are br...breaking up.” I pull the phone away from my ear as I giggle. “See... you... on Saturday.” I hang-up in triumph.
Pat on the back for me. I have resisted the temptation. I have just figured out that I have the willpower of a beast, and I am actually chuffed with myself.
I return to my drink, and of course Nathan. He sees his friends off, as a vacant table full of half-full glasses becomes available. I rise up on my toes, looking for Cate. Every time this happens. I should have known. She’s up there now on the dance floor, all over Pete. Great.
Nathan turns, resting against the bar. “It was bound to happen,” he says. “It’s destiny when she’s out, the freak will follow.”
“Yeah, leaving me playing gooseberry, yet again.”
“I’m here.”
“Sure you are.” I now require more wine to get me through this, so I gesture the bartender. “Chardonnay please.”
“How’s it going with Mr Prick anyhow? Not heard a thing from Sara.” I glare at him. “Sorry, you know what I’m like with nicknames. It’s stuck.”
“I don’t want to talk to you right now Nathan. I might do something regrettable.” I put my money on the bar and pick up my glass.
“Fine,” he sighs. “Look, I’m going to go sit right over there with my friends.” He points. “You’re more than welcome to join us.” My eyes widen- like that’s going to happen.
“Before you go sit with your friends, you can give me a cigarette.” I wave my fingers insistently. “I know you have a pack on you somewhere.”
He hesitates, then rummages in his inside jacket pocket, taking out a twenty pack. I snatch it from him and pull out an appealing ciggy.
“Light.” I hold out my hand.
He nods, slamming a green clipper in my hand before going to join his friends, shaking his head at me judgmentally.
IT’S COLD, ICE-COLD, but the thought of inhaling this deadly smoke, is all I care about right now. I hold the butt between my lips and move away from the doors. I flick the clipper, and like magic the tobacco flames orange. I draw in the smoke slowly and inhale. Wow, the hit. That’s what I miss. That instant calming buzz. I cross my arms and walk by the pulsing windows, enjoying every single drag.
I start to feel a little dizzy due to the nicotine rush. My own fault for draining the cigarette soggy I suppose. I toss it in the gutter. I’ve had enough, so turn to make my way back inside.
“SHIT!” I’m grabbed suddenly and hauled violently backward down the dark side street. My vision, fuck, everything’s gone fuzzy. I make a croaky attempt to yell for help, but it’s stopped by a hand pressing hard over my mouth.
“Remember me?” It’s the dirty pervert from upstairs, he’s right in my face. “Yeah... well sweetheart, I’m all yours.” I kick his shin hard as he clamps my arms against a brick wall. “Bitch... you little bitch... you will pay for that!” His spit is on my face dammit.
My heart drums as adrenalin rushes around my body. I’m more than scared, but I’m sure as hell not going to let this perverted fuck near me, without causing some damage to him. I kick and kick at his legs. He yowls his foul breath in my face and tosses me onto the wet floor. I crawl back using my hands and feet, grazing my palms on the cracked tarmac. He grasps my collar and hauls me up to his filthy face.
“I’m going to show you a real man bitch. I’m going to bang your bones so hard you’ll scream.”
He moves closer to kiss me. I spit and hiss in his face, crying out for help. He punches me hard and the force jars my neck back.
Headlights suddenly beam, shining over his shoulder to blind me. Abruptly, I find myself on the ground and my attacker up against the wall, receiving a beating. I focus my hazy vision, holding my cheek, and wobble up to my feet. It’s Adrien in a grey suit, thumping the hell out of the guy. He punches and punches, until my attacker raises his hands to surrender. I have to stop him. The guy might deserve it, but Adrien doesn’t deserve to go to jail for this.
“Adrien.” I grab his arm.
His head swings around, and just for a second he looks like he wants to strike me too. I have never seen such rage.
“Please stop,” I plead as he studies my fear.
He turns back to my attacker, wrenches, and flings him out onto the street, warning him to run. And he does. Battered and bruised he
flees the scene of the crime.
“Fuck- fuck- fuck, Elizabeth!” Adrien paces back and forth then angrily toward me. “I can’t believe you’d spend your time in a shithole like this.” He throws his head back. “Asking for it were we?” He hums with a caustic glare.
I stand still for a second, trying not to breakdown in front of him. I’m not going to let him make out that this was my fault. I don’t deserve to be spoken to like this.
I turn and walk away, back to the bar. “That’s it... that is it,” I choke up.
I’ve just nearly been raped and he’s blaming me. I thought he was different. I thought wrong, obviously.
I stagger out under the streetlight, only to have him appear before me. He holds my arms gently. I try not to look up at him, but it’s pointless. His lips are straight and now his eyes are soft and glassy. He heaves in a breath with a slow blink of his eyes.
“Elizabeth... please. I’m sorry. I saw his hands on you and lost it.” He cautiously places his fingers on my cheek. “He’s hurt you. No one has the right to touch you.”
I gulp down with emotion and the tears begin to tumble. I could have been killed in that alley. He brushes my cheek with his thumb, staring down at me with care.
“Liz,” Nathan’s voice calls frantically.
Great, now there’s an audience witnessing me weeping.
“Liz.” Nathan charges over, and who’d have thought it, comes to the wrong conclusion. “You did this!” He points to my cheek then spitefully shoves Adrien. But my hero stands firm and takes it without flinching.
I peer at the crowd, noticing several pale faces closing in on Nathan, but they stop when Adrien holds out his hand. If I’m not mistaken, it seems like he came here with back-up, and has just called them off.
“You laid your hands on her didn’t you? I’ll kill you!”
“Nathan,” I scream so loud he stops to look at me with piteous eyes. “He saved me. I’d be in that alleyway torn up if it wasn’t for Adrien. So back-off!”
“Liz come on, I’m taking you home.” Nathan gestures me as though I’ll just drop Adrien to follow him.
I turn to Adrien. He’s already holding the passenger door open on his silver F-Type Jag. I lower my head. I need to be with Adrien. I disregard Nathan standing there waiting for me, and climb inside the warm safe car.
I don’t get it. I’ve just been assaulted, and I have the two men in my life making me feel bad. Adrien, because my drinking haunts aren’t up to his standard. And Nathan, because I chose Adrien. Men and their damn testosterone, is something I don’t need right now.
I’M QUIET AS WE APPROACH my front door. It’s to be expected. No matter how attentive Adrien has been, helping me out of the car and opening doors for me, I’m still traumatised. I just want to scrub tonight off my skin.
My hands tremble and I drop my bag out in the hall. Adrien bends over to pick it up and pulls out my keys.
“Which one?” he asks, puckering his brow at my fuzzy pink troll keyring.
I point, and he opens the door for me.
I walk through the flat, tearing off my jacket that still has that creep on it. I throw it on the floor and turn back to see Adrien still standing outside in the hallway.
“You just going to stand there?”
“I really shouldn’t come in. You’ve had an ordeal tonight and need some space,” he replies, delicately.
Screw that. Right now I want normal. To think about something other than that twisted shit who nearly had me.
“I need you to,” I choke up.
“Elizabeth,” he huffs. “I won’t come in, if I’m not invited.”
“Please,” I say quietly. “Come in.”
He steps over the threshold and closes the door. He sees the roses he sent me on show and smiles. I thought he’d be all critical, but he seems quite comfortable in my basic abode.
He strolls to the sofa. “You should go and freshen yourself up, Elizabeth.”
I leave him sitting on the couch, flicking through one of Cate’s hair magazines.
I PEEP THROUGH THE bathroom door after I’ve just finished scrubbing the shitty night off me. He’s still waiting patiently on the couch, his high-class shiny shoes crossed. His eyes meet mine over the back cushion of the couch as I timidly make my way toward him. God, I’m more uneasy in my own surroundings than I was in the penthouse.
“Would you like a drink?” I ask.
He watches me, one eye greater than the other, fascinated by my tatty bathrobe. “Do you have whiskey?”
“One sec.”
I stoop over next to the television to check what we have available in our forever dwindling liquor cupboard. From the back, I pull out a bottle of Jack Daniels and hold it up for him to inspect.
“Elizabeth, I like the finer things in life as you are aware.” I think he’s trying not to laugh at me. “You don’t need to be nervous of me now, not after Sunday night.” He beams as I flush a warm shade. “JD is a good drink.”
I pour him a glass, and one for myself. But to mine I add a splash of cheap supermarket brand lemonade. I take our glasses and sit beside him on the lime green scatter cushions. His hand reaches out to take the glass. He smells so good. A different scent tonight. Sweet but manly.
He shuffles to the edge of the sofa removing his blue silk-lined grey jacket, then relaxes back. Wow, he’s so good at this being calm business.
“You’re back early... from Birmingham,” I say, sipping my weak whiskey.
“Yes, it’s always a nightmare catering to the whims of my boss.” He rubs his hand on his thigh. Stop looking at his thigh Liz. “We have some bad apples to get rid of if things are going to work in this industry.”
“So, you have a boss?” I ask in shock because I thought he owned his own business.
He chuckles. “I have different roles to play, and many doors I work behind.”
“You mean, you have your fingers in many pies?” I blink slow, trying not to cringe at my own clichéd comment.
“Hmm, thanks for the correction.” He drinks what whiskey is left in his glass, then hits me with a serious gaze. “Why would you put yourself in danger, Elizabeth, explain?”
“It’s not a big deal. I just strayed too far from the crowd.”
“With a cigarette, or what is it you Brits call it, a fag.” He nods in disapproval.
Please do not start to lecture me on the health risks of smoking. You yourself Mr Knight, are proving to be detrimental to my health.
“And you were with Nathan?” he enquires in a merciless tone.
“No, I was with Cate, and Nathan just happened to be there.” Great, this conversation is going downhill fast. “How did you know where to find me?”
“A process of elimination. Seems that joint is popular. Why, is beyond me.”
I sip my whiskey as he slides his empty glass onto the coffee table. It’s too quiet, and I’m in two minds whether or not to put some music on.
“Elizabeth.”
“Yes.” I breathe out sharply.
He turns to face me with his leg over his knee, revealing the Boss brand on the sole of his shoe. The soft fabric of his trousers accidently skims against the back of my hand. He’s done it again, got my heart soaring high. I’m trying not to be preoccupied by this need to have him right now. But my god, it is so difficult keeping slutty Liz on lockdown. And that is all kinds of wrong after what happened tonight.
“No man should ever touch you that way, and you shouldn’t allow it to happen,” he says, sternly. “When I touch you, what do you feel?”
Oh don’t. Please don’t make me say it. You make me hot. I need you. I fantasise about you every minute of the day. I look down at my empty glass, burning up.
“See, the look on your face.” He strokes my cheekbone. “The flush of pink across your cheeks, tells me that’s how you like to be touched. That dirty asshole tonight, there are too many of them out there waiting for a girl like you. I will never make you feel that way... unless th
at’s what you want.”
Maybe I do. Rip off my clothes. Hold me and touch me in an aggressive manner.
Jeez, I really need to sit still. I need to stop with the shuffling ass and rapid breathing. I need to be more like Adrien. Unflappable about the whole, I want sex right now with you, thing. I’m being unsophisticated. Wild like a primitive cave woman.
“So...” I put on my best classy voice. “Where are we going on Saturday? I mean I hardly know you, and you’re taking me away. God knows what I’m getting into,” I awkwardly joke.
He knows I’m dying inside. I can see it in his face. His inflexible probing eyes and his deep inhalation. He can smell my lusting pheromones, and knows I have sex on the brain.
He picks up his empty glass, implying he’d like another. I take it with mine to immediately escape the sex-zone, and place them on top of the cupboard.
I screw off the cap while subtly looking over my shoulder. He’s concentrating on my shitty bathrobe. I knew I should have borrowed Cate’s lilac satin one, which is hung on the bathroom door. He’s more of a satin man than a tatty off-colour towel kind of guy.
“So?” I ask again.
“You’re apprehensive about joining me?” he asks, slighted.
I catch a breath. Why does whatever I say sound offensive to him? Perhaps I should attend elocution lessons on speaking to affluent hotness like himself.
“Not at all,” I squeak, holding his whiskey directly in front of him.
He takes it and places it on the table, his eyes charring mine. He looks down at the hem of my gown and up to the belt with appetite. He reaches out and uses my waist to very slowly pull himself up my body. I sigh out loudly. I can’t stop it. He pushes up close so his hips rub against mine as he ascends. I swig down my quaking breath. Oh Adrien, I’m all yours.
He lies both his hands on my face and stares, keenly tilting my neck to the side. He begins to plant his cool lips sensually on my skin, over and over again. Goosebumps discharge down my spine and my hair stands on end. I shut my eyes as my fingers caress the fine hair on the back of his neck.
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