Breaking Joseph (29 page)

“You’ve
redecorated.”

“Yeah. Kind of
had to.” He smiled faintly.

“Wild
party?”

“Something like
that.” He turned, his eyes widening as they slid down to the swell
of my breasts. “I missed you, you know.”

“I needed a
holiday,” I said. “I missed you too. Missed this.” I brushed a hand
down his arm and his played on my thigh, nudging my skirt up.

“Warn me next
time, okay?” His tone was already absent, voice floating away.

“I didn’t get
much warning myself.”

“It’s like
that, eh?” His knuckles thinned to white as he flexed large hands.
“I think I know that feeling.” With the can set down, his free
fingers spread my thighs. It was a slow movement. Expectant.

I knew what he
wanted, and it was comforting.

Seth peered
between my legs and I sat back to give him a better look.

“You always
wear such pretty things.” He slid down on his knees and pressed his
face against my knickers, inhaling.

“Lick me,” I
whispered. I could feel his hot breath through the flimsy fabric
and I knotted rough fingers into his hair. “I said, lick me.” Now I
squeezed my thighs around his head.

Seth groaned.
He sucked me through my knickers, laving his tongue over my clit as
he found it. I was wet and yet it felt cold, as if it happened to
someone else.

That was about
to change.

“Take them
off,” I ordered.

I lifted my
hips to let him jerk down the garment with his hurried fingers, and
watched his eyes stretch at the sight of me bare. His revelry was
strange, fascinating; there was no precursor to this encounter, no
hormonal stampede of the chase. A battle with a rigged victor.

On paper, that
didn’t sound like something I wanted. It didn’t even sound like
much fun. But paper is so flat and whimsical, blown away by a gust
of wind, washed clean in a light shower. People are far more
resilient, and Seth’s clay insolence was not lost on me.

I bunched my
skirt around my waist and sank back into the sofa. “Now fucking do
it properly. Don’t disappoint me.”

“I won’t. I
promise.” His last words were muffled against my slick flesh.
“Promise…”

Now I warmed to
his tongue and felt every tremor; now, this was happening to
me.
I could hear him swallowing scented air, and he was
tasting, inhaling, coating his face. He sucked at my clit too hard
and never quite found the right places but despite that, his
enthusiasm got me wet and I slid so easily onto the pedestal he
wanted me upon.

“Will…will
you?” He nudged beneath my buttocks and I hooked my legs over his
shoulders, raising my hips once more. His mouth trailed down toward
my asshole and he painted it in cool saliva and steaming
breath.

I moaned by
numbers. Math always was my strong point.

He shoved his
fingers inside me and started a slow, steady rub. I froze at the
strange sound before I realized that it was me crying out, my voice
wrought with longing and surprise. His massage was a spell
conjured, a sleight of a magic wand. Just like that, I was tugged
in beneath its thrall and the pedestal was forgotten. Gone.

I wanted him to
fuck me, thought I didn’t realize why until my knees hit the hard
floor and my palms stung with the impact. Physically, Seth was
nothing like Joseph–no bulk to drive his limbs with such ambition,
and his movements were hindered by twitches and jerks. His skin was
so pale that the veins flickered beneath the surface like dead
vines on a lake. But none of that mattered when he was behind me,
and everything fell inward as the world followed his cock.

Eyes closed, I
urged him on–not that he needed the encouragement. He always tried
so hard to begin slowly–more for himself than me, of course–but his
resolve was weaker than mine, even, and he gave into vigour after
the first few strokes.

I had to keep
pinching my arms so that I didn’t forget myself and start murmuring
his
name.

I’m a man, not
a fucking religion.

“God.” The word
was dry on my tongue in its poor state of substitution.

Seth grazed his
nails down the fading wound mark on my back. Ouch. Then he slapped
my left buttock as he came, groaning loudly.

I arched,
muscles darting inward as I tightened over his cock. I barely
remembered I was meant to be doing it and hoped he didn’t notice me
jump.

“Thank you.” I
exhaled as I sagged forward. “That was–”

“Short. Sorry,”
he mumbled.

“I think you’ve
made your mark.” I smiled, twisting to sit back on my hands. “I’m
more than a little bit sore.”

His brow
furrowed on his flushed face. “Oh crap. Sorry.”

I teased at his
thigh with a bare foot. “Don’t be silly. I like it that way.”

His brow fell
forward a little farther, as if he was considering it. Then he
smiled at my foot without realizing and swatted it gently. “I’ll be
back in a sec.” Condom in hand, he wandering off to the
bathroom.

I blew the hair
out of my face and closed my eyes again in the silence. I was a bit
surprised at how little effort that had been–not physically, just
the way I’d fallen back into the work. Why hadn’t I separated it
from Joseph? Would I ever get back to that place?

Fucking
Charlotte, smirking in her victory.
This is what you
are.

The door
cracked open and I crawled over to a messy bookshelf which housed
DVDs in their hundreds. The carpet was prickly beneath my
knees.

“Did you choose
yet?” Seth had pulled his boxers back on and was refilling my glass
from a Perrier bottle. I remembered him admitting once that he kept
it in just for me.

“Erm.” I
dithered between an Army flick and something painfully hip with
Samuel L. Jackson. “Which one of these do you recommend?”

He squinted
behind his glasses. “One’s a porn film. Did you see that?”

“I did not.” I
giggled. “Talk about The
Bone
Collector.”

He knelt next
to me and slid a box out with a nail-bitten finger. “This one. It’s
quite funny. Or I think so, anyway.”

We settled down
to watch the film. I was spread-eagled on the sofa and he sat
between my feet, his cheek against my thigh. I worked my hands on
his neck and shoulders, along his arms. He was wax for the
moulding, and I only wished I knew the shape he ought to be, even
if that wasn’t part of the service.

“I think your
job is better than mine,” he said, glancing up at me.

I choked back a
little laugh. “I do like it. More than I should, probably. However,
I have to disagree. Yours is a lot less messy.”

“How do you
mean?”

“How much lube
do you get through in a tech office?” I grinned.

“I don’t think
most of them know what it is.” He paused, stroking my leg lightly.
“You don’t need it anyway. Do you?”

“Not with you,
no.”

He squeezed my
calf and I pressed it up against him.

“Are you
thinking of taking up the oldest profession?” I said.

“Me?” He made a
big show of scratching his stubbled chin. “I think I’d be a lot
poorer.”

“You would be
if you didn’t like boys. That’s where the real money is,” I said
sagely.

He shuddered as
he chuckled. “No thanks. No thank you.”

“Shame.” I
tugged his hair back gently to smile at him. “You have that sexy
geek thing going on. I know a few people who pay for that.”

“I’d rather pay
if I get you instead,” he said, his cheeks blotted with pink.
“Did…did you get a boyfriend? I thought that’s why you might have
left.”

“Why does
everyone assume it’s about a man?”

“Sorry. Just
thought…” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t let you do this, if it was
me.”

“Ahh. That’s
very sweet. It really was just a holiday, though.” I nudged him
forward. Time for distraction. Too much conversation was never a
good idea with Seth. “I like doing this.” I slid off the sofa and
lay on my belly, my head nestling against his inner thigh.
“Especially this.”

I eased his
boxers down his legs and stroked his hardening cock with my
knuckles. I watched it grow, rapt for him, catching his eye and
biting my lip. For a narrow-shouldered boy, he definitely had some
girth.

“I think I’ve
missed your cock, Seth,” I mumbled, half smiling around his
shaft.

He groaned in
response and thrust his hips forward. I spat him out and glared up
past his trembling jaw; the only rule Seth ever made was that I
make the rules.

“I didn’t say
you were allowed to fucking enjoy it.” My palm curved around his
erection and then I smacked it hard against his belly. His eyes
rolled upward as he exhaled through gritted teeth. I smacked him
again.

Then, I sucked
him.

Most people
assumed that the biggest difference between sex with a client and a
lover was the intimacy. They thought I couldn’t have intimacy with
a client. Wrong. I had to watch for any hint of his desire as soon
as I entered the room. Sometimes, he’d tell me and enjoy telling
me. Sometimes, his silence invited an educated guess. If anything,
the intimacy came quicker because it was my job to satisfy his
thoughts as well as his body. He didn’t always know that…but I
did.

No, the
difference between a client and a lover was ceremony–almost
religious in its instigation, but never intentional. Sometimes it
was made of long gazes and whispered promises, and others, wrought
in sweat and tears.

Matt understood
the ceremony surrounding sex. Joseph commanded it. That was why
they never felt like clients to me–we had intimacy, of course, but
it was already there. What cast the spell for me was the
anticipation of every flesh-slap and tongue lash, the labyrinth of
complex desires that stretched between us like a cobweb of dewed
thread. Our physical chemistry was part of it, but when loaded
words fell from tense mouths, the whole thing went bang!

Seth and I had
intimacy. I’d learned about the right spot to circle just inside
his arsehole and knew he hated to be kissed. I also knew which of
his employees had three sugars and who ate with their mouth open.
Our exchanges were never empty–far from it. But there was no
interest in the act beyond the act itself, no appreciation save for
curses and sighs, and the whole thing felt shallow and
gratuitous–no bad thing, of course, unless it left a partner
yearning for something else. Something substantial. That’s what it
means to be a whore, like this: unfinished.

Most people
would say that Joseph treated me like a whore.

It was only
without him that I actually felt like one.

Chapter 16

“I can’t, Aid.
What if I get called in for work?”

The morning
after Seth, I stuffed down the best-tasting bowl of cereal
ever.

“Gah.” He
sighed over the phone. “You’re giving up all socializing because
it’s back to the whoring board? It’s just drinks. Bring your
stuff.”

“I wouldn’t
have room for everything,” I insisted.

“It’s Friday
night, Lei-Lei. Suspender belts and lonely half cuts. All fits into
a Fendi baguette.”

“They are
pleasingly phallic.” I tapped the bowl with my spoon. “Aren’t you
working too?”

“Nope. Whole
weekend off to say farewell to Mattman. You do realize that this is
my last chance to rape him?”

“You mean,
seduce him.”

“I’ve given up
on the semantics,” he grumbled. “Anyway. Drinks. Half seven. You’re
coming! No excuses. I’m not having–”

“Any particular
reason why you’re talking in bullet points?”

“No. And fuck
off.” He laughed.

“Somebody needs
a bacon sandwich and a fat Coke.”

Aidan groaned,
wavering into falsetto. “If you did the job I did last night, just
looking at a Coke can would be bordering on traumatic…”

Seven o’clock
rolled around after a day of baking and bad television, and since I
had no whisper of a booking, I relented and called a cab to Aidan’s
flat.

In days of
yore, when I was the Ladarna’s meek new girl, I’d spent a lot of
time at Aidan’s place. He had a little box apartment like me, only
it was shockingly tidy. Dumbbells were piled in neat pyramids,
designer toiletries pristine in their boxes, clothes pressed and
flowing from hangers. He kept his toys in a huge toolbox with a
dozen fold-out sections. I had spent many gleeful hours playing,
giggling and trying not to spill my cocktail on his collection of
multicolour butt plugs, ordered in terms of girth.

His most prized
possession was a shiny blue jukebox and I could already hear its
tinny speakers as I knocked on the door.

“Lei-Lei!” He
folded me into one of his big bear hugs, sharp notes of his
aftershave whizzing up my nose.

“A pleasure,” I
winced, following him into the hall. “So who are we drinking with?
And what for?” I held a carrier aloft. “I brought wine.”

“More vodka
left for me, then.” He scooped an arm around my shoulders and
steered me into the diner.

I froze to the
shiny floor.

“Hey.” Matt put
his bottle on the counter and folded his arms. “You came,
then.”

I glared at
Aidan. “What’s he doing here?”

“Now hang on a
minute–”

“I’m leaving.”
I couldn’t look at either of them.

“Leila,
please–” Matt called.

The wine
smacked into my shins as I strode toward the door.

“I did give
them those photos. I’m sorry.”

I turned,
blinking at Matt as if his words were an unwelcome tug from sleep.
“You…what?”

“I gave Poppy
the photo, Leila.” He wouldn’t look at me. “But I didn’t mean to.
She had my laptop in New York. Do you remember?”

“Ah. I
remember.” I slid back into the awkward silence for a moment; as
little as I wanted to admit it, that made sense. Poppy was frosty
with me after she had caught me with Matt and I’d just assumed it
was because she thought I was sleeping with him again.