Breaking Leila (18 page)

“I’ll see you
on Monday,” I said through my teeth.

“This isn’t
you. Isn’t what you are.”

I hung up, palms simmering, before I insulted him. As much as
he deserved it, he was still my boss. But the words lingered like
smoking embers.
 
You have no idea what I am.
 
Hell, not
even
 
I
 
did.

“There’s still
someone on reception,” said John, pulling up to the entrance. “Tell
them you’re here for the Dahlia suite.”

I gave him
another hug. “Crosswords tonight, is it?”

“Nope. I’m
going back to my room to make the most of the porn on cable,” he
tittered. “You be good, now.”

“I’ll see you
later.”

I headed up to
the reception desk as he parked, and took directions to the suite.
While I’d have preferred the lift in my heels, a curved stone
staircase lined with obscure oil paintings was too fascinating to
resist.

Aidan, clad in
a towel, opened the door before I even reached the room.

“Not only is he
a pre-Raphaelite god, ladies and gentlemen,” he spread his hands,
“but Aidan Reaper is a psychic, too.”

“You heard the
car, you gobshite.”

“Feeling
Irish?”

“Nope. I’m
sober.” I closed the door and gazed around the suite, whistling. “I
don’t think we’ve had a nicer one yet, have we?”

He shot me a
knowing smile. “Oh, the one at De Mavro’s was pretty memorable, I
reckon.”

I swatted him
across the ass cheeks and he gave a mock groan of pleasure.

Not long into
my residence at Ladarna, Aidan and I had a no-show. We’d waited for
over an hour in the pre-booked suite and the client had never
arrived. Aidan persuaded me into bed anyway, and we spent the
afternoon mapping each other’s bodies with the tips of our fingers
and tongues. He taught me how to deep throat–he wasn’t exaggerating
about his generous proportions–and where to kiss a man so that his
resolve withered to nothing and he turned to a mess of desire. Then
he spent the rest of the time with his face buried between my
thighs, delighting in making me gush and squeal. The boy had a
magic formula, and what can I say? Moaning by numbers was not the
same as fluid mathematical skill. It wasn’t like being with a lover
and yet, not like being with a client either. I could let go and be
somewhere else, walk away at the end of it…and between us, nothing
changed.

But things had
been different when I only belonged to myself–not even Charlotte
was quite as possessive.

“I’ve ironed
your outfit,” he said, pointing to a rather small school uniform on
a hanger. “Where’s your bag?”

“Not got it.
This was a bit of a last minute decision,” I admitted.

“Did you tell
him, then?”

“Kind of.” I
fingered the green tartan of my old school skirt. “He answered
William’s phone call about it earlier and told him it was
fine.”

Aidan raised an
eyebrow. “Smooth operator, huh?”

“I’m not so
sure.” The feathers tugged the curls from my hair as I pulled them.
“I’ll do what I can without my make-up bag. Have you got any hair
stuff?”

“Is Elton a
fudgepacker?”

I laughed.
“I’ve missed you, Aid.”

“So you fucking
should have, Lei-Lei. Blowing me off the other night, indeed.”

I shot him a
mischievous grin. “Be a good boy and I’ll blow something else in a
bit.”

“Mmm.”

I slid out of
my clothes and into a hot shower, making the most of the Molton
Brown toiletries. The rock club–as fun as it had been–was a relief
to wash away, and the trickle of hot water lapped pleasingly
between my thighs.

From Matt’s
schizophrenic mantra on touching, to Joseph’s light thumbs, I had
been edging toward release since the morning…it would come
soon.

When I
towelled myself off in the bedroom, there were places I couldn’t
dry. God, I ached for this, and I grazed a finger there, enjoying
how silky and warm it felt.

“Are you
starting up without me? Because that’s hardly fair.”

The doorway
framed Aidan, now clad in charcoal trousers, a white shirt and
green school tie. Auburn curls dusted his collar, still damp.

“I don’t think
I need it tonight,” I confessed, taking the hanger from him. “I’ve
been deprived.”

He stood behind
me and his fingers joined mine. Slow, meandering strokes.

“Poor girl,” he
breathed. “I’m going to make you scream in there.”

“Meanie. Be
gentle with me. I won’t last long like this.” I tugged his hand
away and pulled a pair of white cotton knickers on. “Don’t suppose
there was a bra in with my costume?”

“Afraid not. It wouldn’t have been on long though, and
you
 
are
 
meant to be my slutty little exchange buddy.”

My breasts
spilled out of my palms. “What do you reckon–can I get away with
it?”

He stared at
them with glazed eyes. “God, I love my job. I think you’ll be all
right.”

I turned back
round to slide my skirt on and he did up the zip for me. “So what’s
the plan, Captain Cock? Which one are we doing?”

“I like violent one. If you’re up for it, that is.” He paused
to slide a hand under the skirt, to fondle my buttocks. “I
mean
 
here
.”

A shudder fell
through me at his gentle probing. “After I’ve come.”

“You will.” He
drew back to hand me my shirt. “I’m going to get a drink and stuff.
I’ll see you in ten, okay?”

I gave my hair
a quick blow-dry and fastened it into loose bunches. Since Aidan
had no make-up–though I wouldn’t have put it past him–I made do
with an appropriately fresh-faced look: a smear of Vaseline over my
lips and cheeks. Then I rolled on knee-high socks and fastened Mary
Jane shoes. I’d been wondering where those had got to.

Joseph would
love this outfit—it painted me a schoolgirl who broke all his
rules. I resolved to share it with him before remembering about
Matt, but that stuffed the next few minutes with scarlet guilt.

Screw it. Where
was the minibar?

I wandered back
through into the living area and fixed myself a gin and tonic.

“Hello,
Charlotte.” Aidan grinned.

“Hello,
Felix.”

It felt
surreal, using our working names again. Strangely comfortable,
too.

“You look
shamefully young.” He grabbed at my hips. “Am I allowed to kiss you
tonight, what with Meester boyfriend?”

“I don’t know,
Aid. All this stuff with Matt–”

“He’s happy for
you to fuck someone else, but not to kiss them?” He scowled. “Go
home after and kiss him all you like, but if you’re going to suck
my cock, I don’t see the point in missing out my mouth.”

“I can’t kiss
him,” I grumbled. “He won’t do anything like that with me until
I’ve finished with my boss.”

Aidan rolled his eyes. “No wonder you’re so wound up. Jesus.
You do pick them, don’t you, Lei-Lei? I wonder how many skeletons
are in
 
that
 
closet.”

“What do you
mean?”

“He’s not doing
something so blatantly stupid just because of you. You realize
that, no?”

I blinked at
him. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Be prepared
for baggage. That’s all I’m saying.” He paused to check the time on
his phone. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. I’ve put your pretty
pretend homework on the desk, okay?”

“Okay.” An
antique French bureau sat a few foot from my bed, the kind I’d
fantasize about writing letters on in loopy, ridiculous
handwriting. “Who do we have?”

“Two gay
couples including Angus and Will, a straight couple, and a single
guy.”

“Can we leave
the single guy out of it this time?”

“I was planning
on it. You know how I feel about straight men.”

I stifled a
laugh as the door shook with knocking.

“You answer,
Lei–I mean, Charlotte. I’ll be in the bedroom.”

The mirror beckoned. I gave myself the once over and
Charlotte winked back.
 
Show time.

Our audience
filed in, getting quietly comfy on the sofas that Aidan had
organized around our little bedroom set. Will and Angus were in
their pyjamas and had evidently come from the spa–I could smell the
aromatherapy oils on them. The other couples were both
mid-thirties. Two women held hands and played with each other’s
hair on the corner sofa, while another woman in jeans arranged
herself at her partner’s feet. The single guy curled up in the arm
chair, a whisky in one hand and a camera in the other.

“No pictures,
I’m afraid.” I held my hand out and he gave up the camera
reluctantly.

“Spoil
sport.”

“I already told
you about that, Richard,” Will called. “You mention photos one more
time and I’ll go back to calling you Dick when we’re in
public.”

They exchanged
grins and dirty hand gestures that I gracefully ignored.

I busied myself
for five minutes while everyone made drinks from the mini bar. The
room filled with chatter about work, people’s children, the wedding
ahead. Just like any other party. When they were settled, I turned
the lights to glowing fuzz and took my place at the desk.

Silence scraped the walls. Hollow, jagged.
 
Shivers.

An old school exercise book sat on the bureau, and inside,
Aidan had written
 
Leila and Matt, sitting in a tree, he doesn’t have a cock,
just a rugby trophy
. I had to grit my
teeth to stem the giggling. Oh, I was going to make him
suffer.

Not a lot of people liked to be watched. I knew this because
so often, my clients sought to be voyeurs above all else. They had
to pay for it. Me, I found a strange sympathy in it, the
realization that yes, this was what men thought about. I wanted
it
 
more
. Now, I made a show of stopping
and starting my homework before sighing and slapping down my
pencil, heading over to the bed.

I climbed up
and lay down, facing the sofas. Closing my eyes, I eased up my
skirt and spread my legs. The air hit me harder than my
fingers.

Somebody gave a little sigh as I reached the gusset of my
knickers, as I stroked just enough to feel the warmth through the
white. It was so easy to lose myself in this, to forget who
watched, and it felt
 
so
–

“You’ve got to
start locking your door, Charlotte.” Aidan’s sharp words made me
jump.

“What are you
doing?” I tore my hands away and sprang up. “I was just…just…”

“I saw what you were doing,” he said. “Those boys at school
were right–you really
 
are
 
a slut. You can’t even keep
your hands out of your knickers long enough to finish your
homework.” He paused, cocking his head. “What will your parents
say?”

“They won’t
believe you.”

“You think?”
Aidan stepped closer and grabbed my hand. His tongue slid, wet and
coarse, against my palm.

“Oh my God,
what are you doing?” I squealed, trying to yank it away.

“They smell
really good.” He smirked. “You can’t expect me to see you doing
that to yourself and not get hard, can you?”

I struggled
while he pushed my hand down to the bulge in his trousers. “You’re
sick. My parents trusted you, they–”

“I’ll make you
a deal,” he said slyly. “You show me just how slutty you are and I
won’t tell your mom and dad anything.”

I shook my head
manically, my hand still pressed over his cock.

“I’m not asking, Charlotte,” he went on.
“I’m
 
ordering
.” Aidan could inject this
wonderfully demanding tone into his voice–just the right side of
whiny for a teenage boy.

He started to
rub himself against my hand and groaned loudly. I bit my lip
without thinking–the size of him beneath my fingers was enough to
make me moan, too.

“What if I say
no?”

“If you really
meant it, you wouldn’t be stroking my cock like that,” he said
thickly–and I was stroking him, like a reflex I couldn’t
control.

Aidan kissed me
then, hard. He held my head in place until I reciprocated with a
little cry of defeat.

“See, you want
it. Don’t you?”

The whimpers
fell on deaf carpet.

Aidan yanked my
bunches. “Don’t you?”

“No,” I said
again, jutting my lower lip.

He stared right
into my eyes as he pushed his hand between my legs. I cried out as
he tugged the briefs down, manhandling them off and shoving me onto
the bed.

“What are you
going to do to me?”

“Spread your
legs,” he demanded.

One, two,
three…I counted the seconds until I was exposed to our audience. I
sucked in air as he ran a finger down my slit.

“You’re wet for
me,” he said. “You’re wet for a practical stranger. Do you know
what that makes you?”

I hung my head.
“A bad girl.”

“And bad girls
get punished, don’t they? Take off your shirt.”

I sat up, legs
still parted, to loosen my tie and pull it over my head. Now I wore
nothing by my skirt bunched around my waist and my socks.

Aidan fondled
my breasts roughly. “I should catch you more often,” he added,
rubbing my hard nipples. He pushed me back down and angled me so
everyone could see, pressing my thighs back with the heel of his
hands. “Have you ever had a boy lick your pussy?”