Dirty Bad Wrong (6 page)

***

James

Scarlet lips pouted at me across the table. “So, why am I here?”

“I wanted to spend a lunchtime with my best friend. That’s allowed, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, right. I’m sure this has nothing whatsoever to do with my new housemate.”

“Nothing at all.”

“Sure. So, how’s life in James’ world?”

I smiled. “So, how are things going with Lydia, Rebecca?”

“Good,” she said, lighting up a cigarette. I wrapped my coat a little tighter, bracing my collar against the breeze. Our coffees arrived and I sipped at mine while Rebecca took long deep drags, puffing smoke all over me. I’d have vastly preferred to sit inside, away from the wind and passers-by, but Rebecca’s nicotine habit put paid to that.

“Spit it out, James, what do you want? It must be killing you to take a day off from the gym.”

“I’m an interested friend, curious as to how things are working out. Since it’s been weeks already, I imagine you must have some news.”

“Have you asked
her
?”

“We
work
together, our conversation generally revolves around
work
things.”

“Your choice, I’m sure. You want her, don’t you?” she grinned. I felt the irritation rising, the desire to shake Rebecca by her intuitive little shoulders pulsing through my temples.

“She’s a colleague, which makes her both off limits and disgustingly unattractive.”

“I don’t blame you, by the way. She’s nice. Funny... smart...sexy as hell.”

“Can’t say I’ve noticed.”

“Oh,
please
. Fuck off with your shit, James.” She leant over the table, still wafting smoke at me. “You could have come over, you know, like a normal person, rather than drag me halfway across the city to entertain your private investigator fetish.”

“You’re trying my patience, Rebecca. Like I said, I wanted to see
you
.”

“You could have seen me last night. People have been asking after you... pussies to be spanked, tears to be shed... it’s not like big, bad Masque to stay away. Where have you been, anyway?”

“Busy.”

“And when are you coming back?”

“When I feel like it.”

“Please tell me you finally shot your load in some tight little snatch somewhere? Praise the Lord!”

I met her eyes, conveying my irritation without need of words. “Is she over her heartache?”

“Lydia? She seems to be but it’s hard to know for sure. She’s almost as private as you,
almost.
”

“No sign of reconciliation?”

“Doubt it. From the bits I’ve heard he sounds like a wet-blanket jerk. She could do a lot better.”

“Seems she’ll be staying, then.” A strange mixture of horror and relief washed over me. It sickened my stomach so much I felt the urge to retch.

“We can hope. I’d sure miss her perky little ass in the mornings.” She caught me in her dirty eyes, a sly smile twitching at her mouth. “She’s great, James, really great.”

I let out a sigh. “So, are you going to talk, or not? I could still catch the gym...”

“Let me see... Lydia Marsh... twenty-three, from Warwick. Tall, dark hair, green eyes, perky little ass... project manager for Trial Run Software Group, you may have heard of them?” I checked my watch pointedly. “Fine!” she laughed. “Her ex sounds a douche, conservative to the extreme, I’m surprised she wasn’t the one to fuck around. She must be a fucking saint. I haven’t heard him calling, but I gather he’s been round her friend Steph’s. That’s her
only
friend by the way, and she’s a class-A fucking idiot. She’s only been round once and turned her nose up the entire fucking time.”

“Any family?”

“Only child. No daddy from what I can gather.”

“Mother?”

“Now, there’s a story. I’ve overheard bits and pieces. Her mother sounds like a real bloodsucker.”

“Go on...”

“I’m pretty damn certain she’s into drink, and I’m also pretty damn certain Lydia bails her out often.”

“How so?”

“Money... support... a sympathetic fucking ear. For all her tough-girl attitude, I think our Lydia’s pretty soft. Oh, and get this, she hasn’t even told her mother about the break up. I heard her promising to pass on a hello to the lovely Stuart Dobson.”

“They don’t sound close.”

“One way street, for sure. Urgh, victims give me the heebies. I’m telling you now, James, shit’s gone down there. I suspect her mother’s crap has screwed her up good. She has scars, James. Self-harm.”

“She told you that?”

“She doesn’t need to. I’d know them a mile off.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Arms, the ones that I’ve seen, neat little cuts, wrist to elbow. They’re faint, definitely old, but there all the same. You’d never notice if you didn’t know what you were looking for, but, you know, skin’s my thing.”

“Intriguing.”

“Anyway, she’s a model housemate. Clean, tidy and thoroughly well-mannered. She drinks too much coffee and lives on her laptop checking out goddamn work shit 24/7, can’t you do something about that? She needs a life. She also needs sex; hot, filthy, steamy, disgusting fucking sex to loosen her up a bit. She’s old way before her time. Maybe you could help her with that, too?”

“I’m not even going to justify that with an answer.”

“Whatever you say. I’ll give it a shot if you won’t, see if she’s got any bi tendencies lurking beneath the surface,” she grinned. “I’ve been holding off, but if you aren’t interested...”

“I’m
not
interested.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Knock yourself out, Rebecca. I hope she tastes sweet.”

“She’s submissive, by the way.”

Her eyes challenged me, baiting for a reaction. I didn’t give her one, just sipped my coffee whilst staring at the street beyond. Too close to work for this, too fucking close. The idea of prying eyes twitched at my fists. “How can you possibly know that? Self-harm doesn’t equal submission, Rebecca, not every time.”

“I’ve been in this game long enough to know when someone needs a firm hand.”

“It’s based on fuck-all then.”

She cackled at me, an edgy laugh which turned heads towards us. I gritted my teeth.

“She followed me into my room the other night, saw my personal stash of torture implements. You should have seen her face, James, half-apologetic, half-fascinated. I think it was probably the cane that grabbed her most.”

“Now you’re just taking the piss.”

“Yeah, I am, but only about the cane. In my humble experience I’ve come to know two kinds of control freak. Those like you with the desire to rule the world and everyone in it, and those like her. Control freak through necessity, not by nature. It’s not her nature, James, I’m telling you. Something
made
her toughen up, tighten up, hell, probably grow the fuck up earlier than she should’ve done. Plus, she’s a cutter, pain works for her. I bet you any money there’s a dirty little girl under that shell, just waiting for someone to tear her open and put her back together again.”

She paused in her little monologue, searching my face. “You’d like to see her scars, wouldn’t you?”

“No,” I lied.

“Oh well. I figured she might be your thing. I’ve never seen anyone more your type.”

“And what is my type, Rebecca? Enlighten me.”

“The eyes... Katreya-green, you could say.” I must have paled, mortified, staring at her like she was some kind of ghost whisperer. “I do
know
you, James. I’ve seen you drunk, I’ve
heard
you drunk, when you’re too bloody inebriated to keep your mask up, no pun intended. Besides, Rachel told me years ago; bemoaning the fact she had blue eyes, not green.”

“Rachel should’ve kept her mouth as tight as her pussy. Katreya has nothing to do with anything.”

“If you say not. Is that why you suggested she move in?”

“She needed a room, you needed a housemate. End of story.”

“You hate how well I know you, don’t you? Admit it, you hate it.”

I called the waiter and asked for the bill. Rebecca didn’t seem that surprised, just gathered up her cigarettes and made ready to leave.

“You try my patience to the point of violence, Mistress Raven, but I wouldn’t have you any other way. Stay, get yourself lunch since I dragged you out of Camden.” I handed her a twenty before I made my exit, stooping down low to ruffle her hair and land a kiss on her forehead.

She tilted her head up, one eyebrow raised wickedly. “I mean it, James. I’ll try my hand if you won’t.”

“I wish you all the luck in the world. I hope she’s your new bitch, I really do. A Lydia-Cara ménage à trois sounds exactly up your street.”

“Now you’re talking.”

“I’ll see you again, Rebecca.”

She spun in her seat to watch me up the road. “When?”

I could almost feel the roll of her eyes at my lack of response.

***

I kept my eyes focused on Frank as he delivered his monthly motivational spiel. Lydia Marsh pulled at my gaze, wedged in between some girls from admin. I tasked myself to blank her out, forget all about the ripples in the tight mauve shift dress she was wearing. The room was heaving. Lydia was five seats down to my right, squeezed against the table by the guys from sales. I caught them chancing glances over her shoulder, straining for a hint of cleavage.

Lydia Marsh bit her lip when concentrating. I’d noticed it weeks earlier, and every fucking time since. It tormented me daily, that tense little mouth. I could feel her doing it now, sense the tap, tap, tap of her pen against her chin. My mood took a turn for the worse.

“...as you all know, James and Lydia have done a grand job on phase one of the WHM project, we’re ahead of schedule and due to go live with the accounts module within the fortnight. They’ve already recommended us to Salmons, the big personal injury lawyers up in Warwick...”

I’d already heard all this, of course. I cast my eyes around the room, soaking up all the congratulatory smiles from well-meaners. My gaze returned to Lydia, her glittering eyes beaming with pride as they locked onto mine. I granted her the slightest nod. It burst her bubble, and she looked back to her notes as I turned away.

“...Stephen Bryant will be heading to Salmons in a week or two to deliver the first demo. With a fair wind we’ll have another top 250 client before the year is done...”

I zoned out.

My balls felt heavy as lead, aching with the need to fuck like a beast. I craved the salty tang of tears, straight from a broken woman’s eyes, her tight little cunt mine to abuse.
She’s submissive, you know
. Fuck you, Rebecca, just fuck you.
I bet you any money there’s a dirty little girl hiding under that shell.

“...anything to add, James?”

The room looked at me, and I looked blankly at Frank. He was smiling his goofy fucking smile, waiting for me to join in his self-congratulating love fest.

“You’ve covered it, Frank.”

“Great, well, if there’s nothing else...” The clock loomed towards end of play, the weekend beckoning. Nobody said a word. “See you on Monday, everyone.”

I stayed in place as the room vacated, streams of people filing out like good little soldiers. I stretched my legs under the table, struggling to alleviate the ache in my groin. It didn’t work.

The door swung shut behind the stragglers, leaving just the hum of the projector and my delectable project manager. She came closer, leaning over my shoulder to hand me a file. For the briefest of moments her perky little rack grazed my shoulder and my dick leapt to attention, straining towards her with only a flimsy table top for camouflage. The pale swell of her tits was a magnet, the sloping V of her neckline revealing two perfect handfuls. She had two tiny freckles on her right breast. I wondered for a long moment whether they’d match the colour of her nipples. No, her nipples would be dusky pink; round and ripe and so fucking tender. Strawberry buttons on creamy white skin.

“I wanted to give you this.”

Her scent knocked me senseless; Amber and Black Cherry. She’d applied her perfume like an amateur, carelessly thick on her wrists and no-doubt rubbed to shit, but still my mouth watered. My pulse beat in stereo, both in my temples and my cock. I battled the impulse to tear the fabric from her wrist, hot with the need for scars against my tongue. I forced myself to scan the first few lines of her document. “Case Management stages for WHM? Already? We won’t need these until phase two, it’s an inefficient use of your time, Lydia.”

She pierced me with offended eyes. “I did it
after
work, James. Extra-curricular. I’d love to know what you think.”

“I leave in ten minutes.”

She smiled nervously, her mouth just inches from my nose. “Sure, well, there’s no rush.”

“Then why give it me now?”