In Harmony (37 page)

“I love fucking you, Karen Montfort.”

And a different kind of orgasm thundered up inside me, one without any notion of romance or delicacy, one formed from raw heat and filth, and I found myself gasping.

“I love fucking you, Connor Locke.”

And the climax overtook me, my whole body shuddering as he shot and shot inside me.

Chapter 28

The next morning, I woke to find myself alone in the bed. I panicked for a moment…until I heard the sound of his guitar.

When I’d pulled on my clothes and rubbed the dreams from my eyes, I stumbled up the stairs and emerged blinking onto the roof. He was staring off into the distance, hands sure and quick on the strings. He saw me, but didn’t speak and I didn’t interrupt him. I just stood there and listened. He’d written his final section and it was
us
, together, but from his point of view. I’d written something based on that first night, all slow and intimate. He’d based his on the sex we’d just had: urgent and powerful and…God, I could almost relive it, just listening to it. I knew I was going to go red every time we got to the…
ahem
…
crescendo.

***

I have a tendency to trudge, rather than walk. Some of that I blame on carrying the cello case, but I know that some of it’s me. That morning, though, leaving Connor’s apartment, I
bounced,
the goodbye kiss he’d given me making me feel lighter than air.
If I’d had a little more coordination, I might have skipped.

I bounced down the stairs and ran straight into Ruth coming the other way.

“Oh,” she said, with an air of great disappointment. “I was going to see Connor. But if he’s just spent a night with
you
I suppose he’ll be going straight back to bed for a lie-in.”

There was no reason at all I should have been embarrassed, but I could feel my face flushing anyway.

“Let’s have coffee instead,” Ruth told me, slipping an arm around me and leading me down the stairs. “You can tell me all about it.”

I wanted to tell her that I had to get to Fenbrook to get some cello practice in before classes. I wanted to tell her that I had my presentation that morning, and that I was nervous enough without talking to her. I wanted to tell her that this whole thing was getting to be invasive and creepy, and that she should have the decency to go back to Ireland and leave us the hell alone.

But she was his friend, so I bit my tongue so hard I almost drew blood, and smiled.

***

We went to a diner because, in Ruth’s words, “Starbucks can’t make a decent cup of tea to save their lives.” She left the teabag in until the tea was the color of tar, dumped in half a cup of milk and then sat there stirring it as she talked. “I’m
so
glad Connor met someone like you. I mean, I was surprised, but don’t take that in a bad way.”

“Surprised?”

“Well…you’re very different. I mean, you’re posh and you’ve got money oozing out of you—don’t argue, luv, you have—and you’re
clever—”

“Connor’s clever.”

She made an
Oh! Isn’t that cute
face, as if I were a child who’d just said my teddy bear was an astronaut. Her spoon tinkled in her cup as she stirred endlessly, making me grit my teeth. “You’re very different, anyway. Oh, don’t get me wrong, though, luv. I can see what he sees in you, clear as day.”

She made it sound like a compliment, but I found myself asking, “What?”

Ruth smirked. She was
still
stirring her tea—what could there possibly be left to mix? “You know…you’re the lady of the manor. The princess. He’s your bit of rough.”

I flushed. That was uncomfortably close to my dream. “That’s ridiculous,” I told her. “Connor doesn’t see me like that.”

“Nothing wrong with it, luv. We’ve all got to have our roles to play.”

I wondered what her role was. And I thought of Clarissa and Neil, trapped in a shallow relationship by their sex games. “It’s not like that. I mean, I know we’re different, but it’s not…I mean, there’s more to it than that.”

“Is there, luv? You sure?”

I went to speak, but couldn’t think of what to say.

“Because if there isn’t….” Ruth left it hanging there. “Well. I’ve said my piece.” She tapped her spoon twice on the edge and then drained the cup in one long swallow. “I just want what’s best for him. For both of you. You know that, don’t you?” And then she kissed me once, on the top of the head. “Ta ta.” And she was gone, leaving me in stunned silence.

***

Three hours later, I sat in the lecture theater waiting for my turn, trying to stop my foot tapping nervously on the floor.
Just play the role. Use the napkin.
The napkin that was rapidly going damp from my sweating hands.

Ruth was wrong. We were in love, and there was a lot more to us than some roles
of rich girl, poor boy. What did she know? I tried to push it from my mind and focus on the presentation.
Play the role. Use the napkin. Play the role. Use the napkin. Play the napkin. Use the role. Wait, what?

“Karen, your turn,” said Doctor Geisler.

I stood up.

***

When I emerged from my class I wasn’t quite back to bouncing but I did feel like a huge weight had been lifted. The presentation had gone just fine—maybe not an A, but a solid B, at a guess. I wanted to tell Connor. I wanted to thank Connor. I wanted to celebrate with Connor. I wanted to fu—

“Did you remember?” asked Jasmine, grabbing my arm.

“Of course,” I lied.

“Liar. Come on, we have to get across town.” She leaned in close. “It’s my interview.”

My mind went blank for a second. She was wearing a suit I’d never seen her in before—actually, I’d
never
seen Jasmine in a suit. Was she going for a job?

And then I remembered and the world turned cold and gray. Oh yeah.
That
interview.

Chapter 29

In the back of the cab, I looked again at Jasmine’s suit.

“I borrowed it from Natasha,” she told me. “That’s why the jacket doesn’t close.” She wriggled in her seat. “And I keep worrying the skirt’s going to rip.”

“Good thing you didn’t borrow it from Clarissa—you’d never have got it on.”

“Are you saying I have a big ass?”

“Jasmine,
I
have a big ass compared to Clarissa. She’s a stick. Your ass is….”

“Perfect for the job I’m interviewing for?” Jasmine asked, a little tightly.

Shamefully, that was exactly what I’d been thinking. I had no doubt at all that Jasmine’s curves would go down very well with men. Or that they’d be willing to pay to—

“Are you sure about this?” I asked for the fifteenth time. “I mean,
really?”

Jasmine’s lip quavered. “You said you’d support me.”

“I will! I am! I’m just…are you
sure?
”

She nodded. And then we were there.

***

I’d expected the interview to be in a brothel, with some fifty-something madam who was all heavy makeup and perfume. In fact, it was held in a quiet corner of an upmarket hotel bar, and the head of the agency—who introduced herself as Tabitha—looked to be no older than forty, her dark hair pinned up in a sexy bun. We could have been sales executives or pharmaceutical reps. Well, the other two could. I was in my usual jeans and a sweatshirt.

“Umm. Is it okay if my friend sits in?” Jasmine asked.

Tabitha gave me a quick glance. “Absolutely.” She took a photo of Jasmine’s driver’s license, ticked a couple of boxes on an official-looking form and then got started. “I already have your answers from the phone interview, so this is really more about
you,”
she said. “Let’s talk.”

They chatted for a few minutes, with Tabitha abruptly changing the subject every so often. Politics, wine, sports, movies…she was being a client, I realized. Seeing how good Jasmine was at small talk, at putting people at ease. And the truth was, between Jasmine’s natural charisma and her acting training, she was superb...which only made me worry more.

“Good,” said Tabitha. “When would you be available to work?”

Jasmine swallowed, and I sensed she was getting nervous. “Any evening.”

“Excellent. In-call or out-call?”

Jasmine looked blank.

“Can you entertain clients in your apartment, or meet them in their hotel rooms, or both?”

“Hotel rooms,” said Jasmine. The two words hung there, seedy and incriminating.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” I asked suddenly. They both turned to look at me. “I mean…isn’t it?”

Tabitha smiled. “Nearly all our men are repeat customers and we only take new clients with personal recommendations. We need a valid credit card to accept a booking, and we only send girls to hotels that also require ID at check-in. The men are never anonymous.”

That doesn’t make it safe,
I thought.
It just means the cops can catch them, afterwards.

“There are safety procedures, which I’ll explain closer to your first booking,” Tabitha told Jasmine, although it felt like it was as much for my benefit. “You’ll call us a little way into each appointment, to let us know that everything’s okay.”

Jasmine nodded. I nodded too, but less eagerly.

“Name?” asked Tabitha.

“Jasmine.”

Tabitha smiled patiently. “The name you’ll use when escorting.”

“Oh!” Jasmine looked at me, panicked. “I didn’t think of that. How did I not think of that?”

We both stared at each other.

“Vanessa,” I said. I don’t even know where it came from.

“Ooh, I like that,” said Jasmine. “Classy.”

“Vanessa will do fine,” said Tabitha. “That about wraps it up. We’ll need to take some pictures of you—I’ll send you along to a photographer we know, and he’ll do you some shots. Don’t worry: no faces.”

“Wait, I’m…I’m
in?”
asked Jasmine. “That’s
it?”

“Oh yes,” said Tabitha, sounding a little surprised. “I even have someone I can set you up with—he likes to meet the new girls and he’s in town at the moment. Could you manage tomorrow evening?”

Jasmine nodded dumbly.

“Excellent.” Tabitha made a final mark on her form. “Now, what about you?”

I realized she was talking to me. “
Me?!”

“Yes. You could do very well, you know. Men really go for the wholesome look.”

***

When I’d politely but firmly assured Tabitha that I didn’t want to become an escort, we left and immediately found the nearest Starbucks for a post-escort-interview-debrief.

“Wow...” said Jasmine, stirring her hot chocolate. “I mean…just
wow.
I can’t believe that I’m…you know.”

I couldn’t, either. Somewhere, someone was entering the information Tabitha had collected into a computer. Jasmine’s driving license was going on file somewhere, to prove she wasn’t underage. A page was being created for her on the agency website, with all the things she would and wouldn’t do for money there in black and white for everyone to see.

“I couldn’t believe she asked
me,”
I said, because I didn’t know what else to say.

“You totally should have gone for it,” Jasmine told me.

I gave her a look.

“I’m serious! We could have gone to guys’ rooms together. We could have done threesomes. Or a twosome, and they just watch.”

I spluttered about half my coffee over my sweatshirt. “
JASMINE!”

“What? I don’t mean…you know. But if they were paying us, I’d do you. I’d totally do you.”

I just stared at her, open-mouthed. Sometimes, it was impossible to know if she was joking.

“There’s still time to rethink this before tomorrow night,” I told her.

She shook her head. “Rent’s due at the end of the week. I’m already behind—I’m straight out on the street if I don’t pay.” She sighed. “Or do you think I’m better off sleeping with my creep of a landlord, in a building
he
controls, instead of a nice, rich guy in a suit who’s known to the agency?”

“You could call your brother,” I said in a small voice. “Ask to move in with him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Karen, we’ve been over this and over this. I am
not
getting mixed up with my brother.”