Heller (15 page)

We hit the
boutiques with a vengeance. I thought that I had spent a lot of
money on my trip with Mei, but Lily was the master of the credit
card. Thousands of dollars in this store, thousands in that store,
paying extra to have her purchases delivered to the hotel. She
seemed detached about everything she bought too, as if she didn’t
really care if she owned it or not, but she might as well buy it.
It was just something to do.

At every
store, she would hold an item up in front of me. “That would look
great on you . . . This one’s just your colour . . . You would look
so cute in this . . .” Each time I declined, not sure of Heller’s
policy on accepting gifts from clients.

Think of the
devil and he rings you. I answered the phone, moving away from the
dressing room where Lily was trying on six different skirts.

“Having fun
shopping?” He was monitoring our location again.

“Not really.
I’m kind of bored. Lily wants to buy me stuff. What should I
say?”

“Don’t offend
her. If it makes her happy buying you things, then let her. You’re
allowed to accept gifts from a client.”

“Oh. Okay. I
wasn’t sure.”

A pause.
“You’re doing a good job, Matilda. I had a phone call from Mr Hayek
this morning thanking me for you taking such care of his wife
yesterday. Apparently she didn’t stop talking about the art gallery
all night.” His tone was amused.

I laughed
knowingly. “I better go. Lily’s finished shopping in this store,” I
said and hung up, smiling. Praise from Heller! Nothing could spoil
my day now.

In the end,
Lily bought all six skirts and I let her buy me some earrings and a
scarf. I declined the watch (too expensive), the shoes (too high)
and the lingerie (too kinky). Exhausted, we dined at one of the
city’s three-chef’s hat restaurants and I thoroughly enjoyed every
delicious bite. We drank wine, and I tried to ensure that she drank
the greater part of the bottle, Tysen’s warning about drinking on
the job ringing in my ears.

“What next?” I
asked, after we left the restaurant.

“A bit of
fun!” she said, smiling mischievously. “I want to go pole
dancing.”

“To a pole
dancing show, you mean?”

“No,
I
want to pole dance. I don’t want to watch someone else.”

“Do you mean
take a class in pole dancing?”

“
No!
God, you’re so thick! I want to be on stage. I want men looking at
me. I want them lusting for me. I want them to wank while I dance
in front of them.”

She cast her
eyes up at me with a bawdy and meaningful smile. Thinking fast, and
trying not to appear as shocked as I felt, I summoned a taxi and
requested that we be dropped in the heart of the city’s red-light
district. It was gaudy and threatening by night, but during the day
simply seemed desperate and grimy. A few unkempt prostitutes
wearily plied their over-ripe wares, little enthusiasm in their
actions and even less from their prospective clients.

I was
scornfully turned down by the first club I approached, strong-armed
out of the second, but hit the jackpot with the third. A greasy
little man, who didn’t lift his eyes from my boobs the whole time
we spoke, agreed to let Lily perform on stage for an outrageous sum
of money. The place was a real dive; the carpet sticky, the
atmosphere laden with cigarette smoke, unwashed bodies and
congealed fat, and the clientele some of the most pathetic examples
of humanity I have ever seen. I think some of them actually wore
trench coats. While Lily went backstage to get ready, I loitered
uncomfortably at the bar before deciding to hide in the shadows of
a dark corner. I had ordered a plain mineral water from the doddery
ninety-year-old barman and it arrived completely flat in a smudged,
chipped glass with a twist of shrivelled lemon, served by a
sixty-something woman with tired eyes and inappropriately skimpy
attire. My phone rang.

“What are you
doing there?” Heller demanded.

“Don’t ask,” I
warned, watching the woman’s retreating crepey backside sagging
loosely out of the sides of her tight pink hotpants. I felt ill.
She was my mother’s age.

“Are you
safe?”

“I think so.
I’m more in danger of catching a disease than anything.” I glanced
at my drink. There was something black floating on top, waving its
legs around. I pushed the glass to one side of the table.

“Keep in
touch,” he ordered and hung up.

A burst of
lascivious crackly pre-recorded music piped shrilly from the
speakers above my head. The faded and torn curtains opened and
there was Lily on the stage, wearing nothing except her own
miniscule g-string, high heels and a saucy beret of unknown
provenance. There was desultory applause from the audience. A
thumping, grinding tune burst out from the speakers and Lily
launched into an energetic, and I have to admit, fairly erotic
dance. She performed acts on the pole that I would never have
imagined possible. Her face was filled with such ecstasy that I had
to wonder if she was pleasuring herself while rubbing up and down
it. The audience perked up as her show progressed, and started to
cheer her on enthusiastically. I saw some furtive hand movements in
some of the trench coaters and thought her wish had probably been
granted. Her grand climax (and I use that word deliberately)
involved an acrobatic manoeuvre with the pole worthy of its own act
in the next Cirque de Soleil show. Finally she finished and stood
on stage, panting loudly, glistening with sweat and drinking in all
the catcalls and applause. Even the barman mustered enough strength
to clap in appreciation. She gave a cheeky wave, ignoring the money
thrown on the stage and with exaggerated hip swinging ambled
off.

I met her at
the dressing room. She was glowing with happiness and talked about
her performance excitedly while she dressed. She grabbed her
handbag and checked her phone.

“Shit, I’ve
missed a call from limp dick,” she noticed. She seized my arm and
dragged me out to the street, punching in some numbers.

“Hello
sweetheart,” she purred into the phone. “I’m sorry I missed your
call. I was in the dressing room trying on a new skirt . . . Yes, I
did buy it, how did you guess? It’s beautiful and so are all the
other ones I bought too!” She giggled with a charming girlishness.
“Yes, I have spent a lot of money.” She eyed me. “Yes, Tilly is
looking after me. She makes sure I get everything I want. She’s
such great company. Thank you so much, darling, for finding her for
me . . . Yes, I’ll come home now . . . Love you too.” She pressed
the end button.

“Fun’s over,”
she said, a surly look on her face. “Take me back to prison.”

When I dropped
Lily off, her husband informed me that I wouldn’t be required to
attend to her until noon the next day as he had decided to take the
morning off to go on a harbour cruise with her. Knowing that I
wouldn’t need to be up too early the next morning, I went looking
for Daniel and Niq when I returned home, planning on hanging out
with them for the evening. I found them on the roof-top with the
twins and Heller. The twins were playing pool, fairly acrimoniously
from the sound of their heated bickering voices, and the other
three were relaxing in the hot tub. I avoided the family squabble
and went over to the hot tub instead. I leaned over the edge,
dangling my hands in the warm bubbling water, giving everyone a
friendly smile.

“Why don’t you
join us, Tilly?” suggested Niq.

“Sure, why
not,” I agreed. I had changed into some boardies and had a bikini
top under my t-shirt, pretty certain I’d find the two boys up on
the roof-top. I pulled off my t-shirt and climbed in. The four of
us chatted for a while. Well, Daniel, Niq and I chatted and Heller
mainly listened, spending most of his time staring at me with
languid eyes, which was more than a little unnerving after the
first couple of minutes. Fortunately for me his mobile rang and he
rose from the water to answer it, giving me a welcome break from
his relentless blue eyes.

“
Holy
shit!
” I screamed in shock when he stood up. He was completely
starkers. Not a stitch on him. Naked. Nude. In his birthday suit.
Bare-arsed bare. I think my heart stopped beating for a few
seconds. Something like that should come with a health warning for
unsuspecting folk. In that second, I learned two important facts
about my new boss. First, he was a natural blond, and second, he
was a big man
all over
. And because Heller was standing up
and I was sitting down, I received a very up-close and personal
view of him.

Everyone
turned to me in surprise when I screamed.

“Towel please,
Sid,” Heller requested calmly and regarded me thoughtfully.
“Matilda, you’re not okay with this?” he asked, waving his hand in
front of his body.

I kept my eyes
fixed on his, not daring to lower them. My eyebrows had shot up so
high that they must have disappeared into my hairline. My mouth had
formed a round O shape and I’m sure my eyes couldn’t grow any
bigger without plopping out of my head into the hot tub. I found my
voice and shook my head repeatedly.

“No. No. I’m
not okay with that. I’m not in the slightest bit okay with that.
Okay?” I squeaked. That was kind of a lie, because I was perfectly
okay with
that
all right, just not with
that
being
dangled in my face in public without any warning. In private
though, it might be a different story. He was very impressive.

“Oh.” He took
the towel from Sid and I scrunched my eyes shut while he stepped
out of the hot tub, before wrapping the towel securely around his
waist. His phone had stopped ringing and he’d missed the call, but
he didn’t seem too worried.

“It’s safe to
look now,” he said, an amused tone in his voice and an even more
amused look on his face. So I opened my eyes and thought that was
clearly just his opinion, because in my opinion it was nowhere even
close to being safe to look. Now all I could think about was the
fact that he was completely naked under the towel. I hoped he had
it well-secured. Or did I?

“Thank you,” I
said, remembering my manners. I truly hoped I wasn’t blushing,
although the telltale burning in my cheeks told me otherwise.

“I suppose I
should stop doing that? Now that you’re living here?” he asked,
leaning on the side of the hot tub next to me, looking down. I
nodded up at him, hyper-aware of his proximity. “Shame. Where I
come from we don’t have all these hang-ups about nudity. Not like
this country. To us, it’s no big deal. The guys here don’t mind
either. You would though?” I nodded again, starting to feel like
one of those little novelty dogs you put on the dashboard of your
car whose heads bobble around uncontrollably with every small
movement.

“And where do
you come from, Heller?” I asked, looking up at him, desperately
trying to think about anything else other than his nakedness.
It
really had been far too long between boyfriends for me
, I
thought. I needed some carnal relief urgently.

“Overseas,” he
answered, deliberately vague, amusement still curving his lips.

“Yeah, I sort
of guessed that. Your accent gives you away,” I retorted
sarcastically. “Anywhere in particular overseas?”

“Europe.”
Still vague, but we were narrowing it down somewhat, even though I
could have also guessed that little nugget of information. I could
see he wasn’t much of a one for volunteering details about
himself.

“Any
particular country in Europe?” I was persistent if nothing else. He
smiled, but didn’t respond. “Germany? Denmark? Norway? Sweden?
Finland? The Netherlands? Iceland? Greenland?” I speculated,
quickly exhausting my knowledge of countries that might produce
blond-haired, blue-eyed Viking giants. He kept smiling, but still
didn’t answer.

“There’s no
point asking him any questions about himself, Tilly,” Daniel
warned. “He won’t tell you anything. You’re just wasting your
breath.”

Heller’s smile
grew even wider at that, but I frowned. Why wouldn’t he tell me
what country he was from? What was the big secret? I obviously had
Mr Mysterious on my hands, which made me even more determined to
find out. But right then I beat a strategic retreat and shrugged in
a casual
suit yourself, no skin off my nose, I don’t really
care, I was only being polite
kind of way and resolutely
changed the subject, enquiring whether anyone had had dinner.
Apparently nobody had, and when I suggested that we have a barbeque
dinner, there was enthusiastic agreement. I soon realised however
that they all expected me to organise the food and do everything,
which I thought was very sexist of them. So as I climbed out of the
hot tub, I ordered Daniel and Niq out as well to help me. They
obeyed without complaining, which made me feel fairly powerful for
the rest of the evening. I wasn’t game enough to order the other
three men around. Not yet, at least.

I took the
towel that Heller handed me and quickly dried myself down, glancing
up to find his eyes on me yet again. Why did he keep looking at me
all the time? Did I have something hanging out of my nose or some
green stuff stuck in my teeth?

Daniel, Niq
and I went down to the pantry and I stole a quick look in the
mirror while we were there. Nope – no green stuff anywhere.
Shrugging to myself, I collected a bunch of goodies, spread it out
evenly between the three of us and we hauled it up to the roof-top,
our arms full. Then I forced them to chop, mix and stir as I
devised some quick sauces for the skinless chicken breasts and
salmon fillets we had chosen to barbeque and threw together a
couple of salads. I went to the herb garden to snip the flavours I
needed for dinner, wishing fervently that Heller would go and
change into something,
anything
. My eyes kept sliding over
to his towel-clad body as he leant against the wall, arms and
ankles crossed casually, watching the twins playing pool. It was
affecting my concentration. I determinedly averted my eyes from his
heavenly form and turned all of my attention to dinner as we
arrived at the pointy end of the preparation, afraid I was going to
chop off a finger otherwise.