Bad Girls (27 page)

Eventually, footsteps resounded in the corridor, Dave’s heavy tread and the rumble of his voice, talking to someone; she was sure she heard her name mentioned. Wanting to hear what was being said about her, she nipped over to the door, easing it open a crack. Growing up a curious child around a raft of very famous people getting up to all sorts of interesting activities, she had honed her eavesdropping skills to perfection.

‘You just gotta rise above,’ Dave was saying. ‘You can’t give other people the power to affect you. That’s how you relapse.’

‘It was just such a kick in the teeth!’ Brian whined miserably.

‘Petal acting out is nothing to do with you,’ Dave advised.

They were passing Petal’s door now, Dave’s heavy footsteps making the frame rattle a little as they went by.

‘It’s about trust,’ Brian’s voice began to fade now his back was to Petal’s room. ‘I don’t know if I can trust her now . . .’

Oh, that’s not fair!

But the next second, as Brian’s words settled in, Petal began to feel guilty.

He
can
trust me, she thought defiantly. I didn’t mean it. I’ll tell him I’m sorry tomorrow.

‘Mmm, sounds
great
,’ purred Skye’s voice, so close that Petal jumped: distracted by her conscience, she hadn’t heard Skye and Joe’s approach.

‘Eleven thirty, OK?’ Joe said in an undertone. ‘I swung it with Dave.’

‘Cool!’ Skye’s voice was hushed. ‘But—’

‘Hustle it up, you two!’ Dave called from further down the corridor. ‘It’s past curfew! No more talking!’

The room Skye shared with Amber was next to Petal’s. Petal heard her go in and shut the door. The men’s rooms were way down the other end of the facility, to make sure it wasn’t too easy for the sexes to be tempted to mingle; Skye had giggled yesterday in Dr Lucy’s hearing about lesbians and gays getting a free pass for high jinks, which had not amused Dr Lucy one little bit.

Petal speculated wildly – what had Skye and Joe been talking about? It was ten now, a curfew that had seemed impossibly early to her when she arrived at Cascabel. But when you were woken up at seven thirty for an eight o’clock breakfast, followed by meditation and morning group, you found yourself unexpectedly exhausted really early in the evening. By half-past eleven, everyone would be fast asleep. Therapy was really tiring. Even when you were resisting it with everything you had.

No way am I going to miss what happens at eleven thirty, though.

The door swung open, and Petal jumped back just in time. She’d forgotten all about Sujata, her roommate, coming back from her volunteer work.

‘Hey,’ Sujata said flatly. She looked wiped out; there were dark smudges circling her eye sockets, and her skin had an ashy tinge. ‘OK if I use the bathroom?’

She emerged a mere five minutes later in her pyjamas, crossed to her bed and curled up in it, her back to Petal, saying, ‘We need to turn the light off soon, OK? I’ve got a really early start tomorrow.’

And how was
your
day? Petal thought sarcastically, though actually that wasn’t really fair. She was totally fine with Sujata not being the chatty type; with her sustainable-bamboo-fibre clothes, sloppy haircut and Birkenstocks, Sujata was clearly a nouveau hippie, and Petal and hippies had about as much in common as she did with – well, with people who volunteered in homeless shelters.

Luckily, Sujata always fell asleep almost immediately. After just a few minutes of clicking off the bedside lamp, Petal could tell from Sujata’s heavy, slow exhalations that she was dead to the world. It was surprisingly hard for Petal to lie there in the dark without falling asleep too; the hypnotic rhythm of Sujata’s breathing would have lulled even an insomniac into slumber. Petal kept her eyes open as best she could, glancing every so often at the orange digital display on the bedside alarm clock.

Still, drowsiness crept up on her surreptitiously. She was in that pre-sleep haze where everything seems slowed down, when a small sound from outside caught her attention. Blinking, she focused on the clock, which read 11:38.

Shit!
Suddenly alert, she slid out from beneath the duvet as quietly as she could, padding across the room in bare feet, turning the handle and pulling the door towards her slowly and carefully. Every tiny noise sounded horrendously loud in the silence of the sleeping building; by the time she’d got the door open enough to risk tentatively poking her head out, she was scared she’d missed all the excitement.

It took all Petal’s self-control not to jump back, betraying herself, when she saw Skye. Wrapped in a velvety robe, her hair still in the bunches from earlier, Skye was – luckily for Petal – looking in the other direction, down the corridor towards the branch that led off to the men’s bedrooms. She was so close Petal could hear her breathing and smell her perfume, which had clearly been freshly applied. Her blonde hair gleamed against the blue of the robe, which was belted tightly to show off her slender figure. On her feet were little blue backless mules.

All dressed up and sexy for Joe
.

‘Psst!’ came a noise from the direction in which Skye was looking. Petal could barely see that far through the open door jamb, just a sliver; but she still recognized Joe’s long jeans-clad leg, his arm, beckoning to Skye, who promptly eased her bedroom door shut and slipped soundlessly along the corridor to meet him.

Betting that they’d be thoroughly distracted now, Petal risked craning her head out further, enough to see Skye flitting up to Joe, her robe flaring out. She looked up and whispered something to him, and his arm came round her, closing possessively around her. His hand was low on her back, just at the base of her spine, his fingers flaring out over the rise of her bottom, and as Petal watched, he applied extra pressure that pulled her along with him as he whisked her off round the corner in the direction of his room.

Oh my God
. Petal hadn’t been sure until this moment how specific this rendezvous was.
They’re totally going back to his room to do it!

If they get caught, they’re in so much trouble!

And then, quite unexpectedly, the thrill of knowing a secret was overlaid with even stronger sensations. Violent envy, and violent frustration.

I want Dan. I want to be sneaking off to have sex with him right now. I want to be out of this fucking dump, in a proper bed, with my
fucking boyfriend!

Depression hit her like a tidal wave. She closed the door and slumped back onto her bed, not even bothering to pull the duvet up over herself. She couldn’t help picturing everything Joe and Skye were doing to each other at that very moment. It might just be some desperate, stupid hookup between two sex addicts who ought to know better, but she couldn’t help feeling hopelessly, horribly jealous of them . . .

‘
I
thought you were coming to me!’ Skye hissed at Joe, as his arm closed around her, his hand on her bottom.

‘I told you, babe, I have a double bed!’ he whispered back, pulling her around the corner, down the corridor.

Not very gentlemanly, though, Skye thought crossly, even as she trotted along next to him. I’m the one that runs the risk of getting caught if I come to you. And then she sighed. Who am I kidding? I’m a stripper who’s fucking a movie star for a gossip rag! Why the hell should I expect him to be acting like he’s taking me on a date?

It took a couple of seconds for the rest of it to click.

Oh, shit
.
The camera’s back in my room, all set up on the table inside my bag, on night setting, ready to go – but how could I bring my goddamn bag if he wants to do it in his room?

Joe’s hand was slipping down her bottom, squeezing her buttocks so sexily that she squirmed with excitement.

Ah, hell. I’ll just have to do such a good job that he’s desperate to come back for more. And next time, I’ll figure out a way to bring the damn bag with me
. . .

A door slammed, so close that they both jumped in shock.

‘I thought you fixed Dave!’ she hissed.

‘I did!’ Joe looked agonized. ‘
Fuck!
He said there wouldn’t be anyone but him doing the rounds!’

But this was definitely not Dave. On the parquet of the lounge area beyond came the fast tap of high heels, moving swiftly in their direction. The men’s bedrooms were on the other side of the lounge; there was no way they could make it to Joe’s room, and Skye’s was down a long open corridor. If the woman turned onto it, they’d be spotted immediately.

Skye looked frantically from side to side. ‘Here!’

She grabbed Joe’s arm with one hand. With the other, she swung open the door closest to them, the wheelchair plaque on the door indicating that it was the disabled lavatory. Dragging Joe behind her, she pulled him in. The footsteps were so close now she didn’t dare to shut the door completely, in case the noise of the metal latch clicking shut drew attention; holding the door nearly closed, she saw a flash of white coat, and then a dark ponytail, switching back and forward as if it were attached to a bad-tempered horse.

Dr Lucy. Stomping down the corridor towards the main door like she’s in a tearing hurry. Or really angry about something
. . .

The light in the toilet had come on automatically with the opening of the door. Skye took in their surroundings, and an entire scenario flashed through her brain, perfectly formed, and so much fun that a grin spread across her pretty mouth as she shut the door, flicked the lock shut, and swivelled round to face Joe, hands on her hips.

‘Is the coast clear?’ he asked.

‘No idea,’ Skye said sweetly. ‘We’ll have to hang out here for a while. Sit.’

She pressed on his shoulders, pushing him down till he sank onto the toilet seat. Thank God the lid was down.

‘Baby,’ he started, ‘this isn’t exactly where I had in mind—’

Skye put her mouth against his and said, her breath warm on his skin, her lips moving seductively, ‘My name’s Skye, OK? Use it.’

He groaned at her closeness, his hands reaching for her, kissing her before she backed away, untying the sash of her robe, pulling it out of the loops, letting the robe fall open. Underneath it she was wearing the flimsiest slip she’d thought she could succeed in bringing to rehab: Victoria’s Secret’s finest, a pale cream, clinging and transparent enough to show her nipples through the lacy bodice.

She let the robe fall to the floor and stepped towards Joe once more. His legs were planted wide, his eyes bright with anticipation; she wiggled in between his legs, reaching for his hands, pulling them up to cover her breasts. Sighing in sheer pleasure, he tugged down the bodice, his hands big and warm on her bare skin, squeezing, caressing her so expertly that Skye’s lower body melted towards him.

Wow, he actually knows what he’s doing . . .

Good-looking guys, in Skye’s experience, just didn’t try as hard. They tended to assume that all the foreplay you needed was a flash of their smile and a good look at their six-pack before they stuck it in you and started pumping away. And celebrities – well, the baseball players and politicians and actors Skye had met in the Midnight Lounge had been all about sitting back complacently while she did the work.

But Joe was very much the exception to the rule. He was licking her nipples now, kissing each breast in turn, flicking his tongue around them in a way that made her moan loudly and grind herself against him and forget, temporarily, all about the plan she’d concocted just a few minutes ago . . .

Focus, Skye, for Christ’s sake! she snapped impatiently at herself. This has to be a first fuck he’ll remember for ever!

She had discarded her robe, but not before she had slid its satin belt out of its loops; it was wadded up in her hand. And now she slipped it round Joe’s left wrist, knotting the belt swiftly and passing it through the white rail fixed to the left side of the narrow bathroom wall. As she had anticipated, he was so distracted by her breasts that he didn’t take in what she was doing till she had brought the rest of the belt round his back, through the right-hand rail and looped round his right wrist, dragging it tight. Joe suddenly found his arms pulled out to each side, his wrists secured to the bars, which had been installed so that handicapped users could pull themselves up from the toilet.

Skye had to hand it to Joe: he wasn’t slow on the uptake. A big, gorgeous grin spread over his face as he looked from side to side, checking out what she’d just done.

‘Well, Skye, baby,’ he drawled appreciatively, ‘you are one
very
resourceful young lady . . .’

Skye hooked her thumbs into her skimpy nightdress, which was now down to her waist, and wiggled out of it in one smooth shimmy, standing completely naked in front of him. The lighting in the bathroom was brutal, a fluorescent strip directly overhead: it would have shown up any flaws immediately. But Skye’s body was young and smooth and perfect, and her complacent smile said she knew it. She stood there for a long moment, letting Joe look her up and down like she was cheesecake and he was starving, letting him get a good stare at everything he was about to get; then she turned round in a long, slow spin, hearing him groan again at the sight of her breasts in silhouette, her firm, high ass, her flat stomach.

‘You’re
killing
me,’ he moaned, his voice thick with lust. ‘Baby, would you
please
unzip my fly before my dick busts it open? I’ve got a hard-on the size of Omaha waiting for you here . . .’

He wasn’t exaggerating much. Skye had already checked out the shape and size of Joe’s cock before, through his jeans; but as she undid his jeans and eased out his swollen dick through the fly of his boxers, she gulped in happy anticipation.

‘Wow, baby, you’re
packing
,’ she said, leaning over to lick its head as his dick strained towards her eagerly.

‘I bet you say that to all the boys,’ Joe managed, but his voice was jerky now, he was losing control, and as her mouth closed around his head, tight and wet and warm, he let out a long moan of relief, so fervent and heartfelt that Skye knew her tactics were exactly right.