Page 175 of Easy
DAN
Being in the office this week is the only thing that’s kept me sane, even if my sanity seems to be hanging by a thread. I’d suffered the week from hell and had even been told by my bar manager that it looked like I’d had a holiday there. A glance in the mirror as I slip on my suit jacket, and I’d have to agree. But I have to pull my shit together. Today, I have meetings to attend and expansion plans to discuss. But all through the day, the networking and the questions, I know all I’ll be able to focus on is how I let everything go so wrong.
As Friday evening dawns, I find I can’t bear to be alone.
On Monday, I’d gone to her office just to be told she wasn’t there and wouldn’t be all week. I’d returned home and pretty much stayed put. Waiting. Because she had to come back, didn’t she? As the week progressed, my anger had grown. I’m angry with myself, obviously, but also at Louise. Angry that she’d seen fit to reveal parts of her life by drip feed. Devastated that she’d taken me inside her heart and body while avoiding some of the more usual intimacies. I don’t even have her address, and that’s just fucked up.
I’d resorted to searching for her on the internet, finding no trace. No listings in the phone book, no hints to her address. I’d even briefly considered hiring a detective but hesitated at the level of intrusiveness. No. I had to trust she’d seek me out. Hadn’t she invested some part of her heart?
I see her everywhere—in the coffee shop, on the street—even convincing myself twice she’d been in touching distance, my hand on a stranger’s shoulder, a face turning to me that wasn’t hers. I’m so obsessed, I’d even thought I’d caught a glimpse of her downstairs in the club earlier on. Ridiculous.
Dragging a hand down my face, I return to the one-way window overlooking the bar and the cabaret room. It’s still early; couples drinking, mingling, and with the exception of one or two, fully clothed, but all are wearing masks tonight for the evening’s theme.
My gaze drifts over the staff, those meant to be seen at least. Two redheads in French maid’s outfits serve shots along with a man with slicked-back hair and a handlebar moustache. Later, there’ll be a pair of contortionists to titillate, but for now, drinks will be consumed. Later, clothes will be shed. But by then I plan to be long gone. I may be lonely, but only for her company.
LOUISE
After consuming half a bottle of Flora’s best viognier, I meet Luke in a bar near the club. It isn’t that I plan on getting wasted, but more that I think I’ll need lubrication for later.For what I have planned.Besides, it isn’t like people just kiss then immediately drop their clothes. Usually. There needs to be bits in between, and for me, this means cocktails in an overpriced bar where Luke won’t let me go dutch.
It isn’t a great sign, but one I haven’t fought too much.
‘So you were saying?’
I slide into the seat after a moment alone in the bathroom, a moment Flo would callhaving a word with myself, bad decisions being only mine to make. I look on for a blank moment, his question late in making much sense, my thoughts focussed elsewhere.
‘I think I was asking how you’d heard about the club.’
‘It’s not a secret, Lou.’ I hate his cockiness and the faux endearment, but I try not to make a point of either as he hooks his elbow around the back of his chair. ‘That would be bad for business.’ I didn’t know where he worked, I’d still be able to tell he sells advertising. He’s the epitome of the stereotype. ‘Besides,’ he carries on, ‘it was in all the newspapers last year. Tales of the debauchery for those with plenty of cash. Tales of how the other half lives splashed across the tabloids.’
My stomach lurches quite suddenly. Media? An outing?
‘It was mostly guesswork. The journalist didn’t get it. The Den’s vetting process is first class.’
Of course it was. Members might not be short of cash, but they also had to have other qualities and attributes. Certain commonalities... like an interest in kink. Or public fucking. Group sex, in some instances, I’d guess. But mainly, they seemed to want to keep their proclivities secret.
I repress a shiver, the thoughts taking up so much space. Dan had been so against fooling around in public. Other than the bathroom last weekend, all our sex had taken place at his house.
Maybe he keeps all his secrets at the club.
‘Have you been on the waiting list long?’ I ask, desperate to curtail that thought.
‘About six months.’
Luke tells me that once he was promoted, he’d earned enough to meet the application requirements. I don’t miss how he slides his hand under the table, adjusting himself, though not quite discreetly enough. I feel nothing but tension, yet he’s excited.
I finish my iced tea, the long, alcoholic kind, before adjusting the neck of my blouse. The thing is uncomfortable. High necked and billowing sleeves clasped at the wrists, it offers full coverage but is almost sheer. I know the skin coloured bra I wear underneath gives the impression of nakedness. And that was the whole point of wearing it. Luke’s eyes seem unable to hold my gaze, and I hope my outfit has the same effect on Dan. And I want him to hurt.
I’ve teamed the blouse with a leather skirt I’d found in that underwear-cum-fetish shop. It’s knee-length, though anything but demure, with a silver zip running its length at the back, currently fastened from my waist to my knees. It looks the part, though is difficult to walk in. And of course, I’ve teamed the outfit with heels. Spiked this time.
Noticing Luke’s wandering eyes again, I tap the table with my knuckles to get his attention.
‘Iamactually wearing a bra under here.’ God. I sound so veryschoolmarm.
Luke’s cheeks pink as he murmurs an apology, very unlike the cocky man who strode into the bar earlier. His change of tone and demeanour is a little startling.
‘Anyone looking close enough would see that,’ he mumbles. ‘But from where I’m sitting, there’s some stellar nippleage.’
‘Ground rules,’ I blurt, immediately folding my arms. ‘It seems like a good idea to have, you know, some sort of plan.’ Other than the one I have in mind for Dan.
