Breaking Leila (9 page)

Off it came in
an awkward tangle of arms and hair. I fumbled with my underwear,
but when I stood back in nothing but my heels, his appreciation was
evident.

“On my desk,”
he whispered.

He nodded as I
lay back, exposing myself to the warm air while he kicked off his
shoes and trousers. In the dark, he reached into his desk drawer
and rolled the condom over his length. He still wore his shirt and
tie as he climbed on top of me, sending picture frames clattering
to the floor. Our kiss grew lazy and indulgent.

“Tell me you
want this,” he said, rubbing his cock head over my glistening
lips.

“I want it so
much it hurts to think about it.”

He lifted my
legs and sank into me in one firm, seamless movement. I squealed
like it was the first time without even trying, he stretched me so
tautly. I hadn’t felt my boyfriend nearly so deep and I bit into
his shoulder to shut myself up.

Charlie worked
himself in and out of me with deliberate slowness.

“You’re so
fucking tight,” he panted. “Do you like it, angel? Being full
up?”

“Mmm.” I
matched his thrusts now. To think–I’d always matched his desire.
“Harder, please…”

He spread my
legs farther as he gained pace. My skin burned against the desk as
the impact pushed me along, and we knocked over folders, files,
clouds of paper. I moaned into his mouth as he alternated kisses
with ragged breaths, watching wide-eyed as he lifted my arms and
pinned them over my head.

How much of
this was a normal girl supposed to take? Good job I didn’t have to
walk home...Jesus.

“Charlie,” I
whimpered, “you’re so big…so big it’s hurting me…please…” I said it
so naively. I didn’t realize how much he wanted to hear the
words.

He made a sharp
thrust and started to moan my name.

The room
blurred in rapid dissolves–the way he ground into me, how I
throbbed inside, his rapid breath. Then he collapsed over me,
utterly spent.

We lay like
that for a few minutes. I loved the feel of his weight on top of
me–I lay surrendered and delightfully sore. He lapped at my neck
like a school boy, sleepy-eyed with sated pleasure.

“Do you think
the cab will still be outside?” he asked.

I laughed. “I
doubt it.”

“I’ll call
another in a moment.” He lifted himself on his arms and pulled out
of me, wandering over to the bin. I sat up to watch him, loving the
way his firm ass cheeks peeked out from beneath his shirt. When he
turned back, his erection still led the way.

“Look at you.
I’ve always dreamed of having a naked girl on my desk.”

I wrapped my
legs around him as we kissed, my heels scraping over his bare
calves.

“I’m a lucky
man. Thank you.”

“Thank you,
too.”

His cock nudged
between my crushed lips and we sighed together.

“I’d take you
again, I would,” he murmured, “but your parents will kill me if I
don’t have you home soon.”

We dressed
together, Charlie fastening my bra and zipping up my dress. Later,
I noticed him leaving empty-handed.

“Didn’t you
need something from the cabinet?” I said.

He smirked at
me. “I got what I came for.”

And so did
I.

Charlie taught
me the difference between education and corruption–how sweet it
felt to teeter on the jagged line between. We never had a
relationship in any agreed sense, and all I wanted was the odd
fistful of his time. Maybe I loved the adrenaline more than him.
Maybe, even then, I was different.

Now I scrolled through the late night filth we’d exchanged
during my degree, the photographs he sent me from his trips to
Bruges and Brussels. The website of our original hotel suite had
been the first bookmark on every new laptop, and I still darted
back to peer at the crisp covers on
 
that
 
bed. In stories for little
girls, we throw white sheets over ghosts. Funny, how the place he
violated me so beautifully was dressed as the same. I’d been so
self-conscious with his mouth on my inner thighs that I trembled
before the shadows that watched us.

Two years ago,
I opened his final email and the last shreds of heat seeped away.
He was about to marry a woman from work and he was trying to be a
good boy. There was disappointment–of course I’d miss him. But
there was confusion, too, that he could fall so easily into a mould
that we broke without trying...and a tiny echo of hope that I might
learn to behave myself and have the things normal girls have: one
man, a white dress, satisfied parents.

The thought
never bore any fruit, though. I was still broken glass.

Charlie’s
parting gift was my reference for Bach and Dagier. He had been my
mentor in law as much as the bedroom, and I valued his faith in me
most of all. There had been Ladarna clients who shared his name,
and I closed my eyes and murmured until my throat went hoarse. No,
it wasn’t the same…but the first cut, as they say, is the deepest,
and I wasn’t in the position to tell them not to lick my
wounds.

* * * *

The water
poured down in glistening sheets. It was bittersweet, showering
away my wreck of a Friday and the stickiness of recreating Charlie.
I scowled at the realization that the only caress I would receive
today was from soap.

I hadn’t been
out on a Saturday night in months. I’d forgotten how to dress for
it, because everything I owned seemed business-like and cut for
stripping off easily. A classic black dress seemed a very lazy
choice.

Still, I was
feeling awfully lazy that evening. I pinned my hair up loosely,
fastened on impossibly high sandals and tottered out into the
dusk.

Aidan waited at
the bar, attempting to seduce the waiters with his mischievous
grin. It was always such fun to watch him lure them away–only to
drop into the conversation that an hour with him cost more than
their week’s wages.

“Lei-Lei!” he
shouted, folding me into a huge bear hug.

“My friendly
neighbourhood cock fiend.” I giggled. “I feel like it’s been
ages.”

“A few weeks
since that American guy. What are you drinking?”

“Water and
lemon, please.”

He eyed me
suspiciously. “You aren’t seriously that hard up already?”

“No, but I had
a drunken shopping incident earlier and–”

“Really? Ugh,
God. Time for reinforcements.” He waved a hand in the air.
“Nikolai, you heard the woman–two Long Island iced teas.”

“I’ll bring
them over,” replied the long-suffering waiter.

We found a
corner away from the evening buzz and sank into creaky leather
sofas.

Aidan had
provided my whoring training wheels. William would advertise us as
a couple, and I did my first three jobs with him, watching,
learning, partaking. It could’ve been a strange friendship born out
of performing together–perhaps it was–but trust and ease were
present too. I asked him once if he felt strange fucking me as his
pupil or cousin or best friend’s little sister, answering all the
client’s questions about our sordid little role-plays.

He’d laughed
and said it made him harder.

I called him a
pervert. A true bond was forged.

“Tell me about
the new Lei-Lei, then,” he demanded. “Are you respectable now? Too
busy doing braniac maths for rim jobs?”

I swatted him.
“I can’t moonlight forever, you know. I want to be normal
eventually.”

“You’re a tax
lawyer. You’ll never be normal.” Our drinks arrived and he gave
Nikolai a teasing stare. “Gah. I can’t seem to break him.”

“Maybe he
doesn’t swing that way?” I toyed with my straw.

“Bollocks!
 
Everyone
 
swings that way. Some of them just don’t know it
yet.”

Aidan had a lot
of interesting theories on sexuality. The basis seemed to be that
if someone wouldn’t screw him, they were in some form of
denial.

“Maybe you need
to wear something more low-cut,” I mused.

He stared down
his nose at me. “Just because you can afford to show a hint of
areola for free now, doesn’t mean we all can.”

I tugged up the
bodice of my dress. “Cheers for that.”

“My pleasure,
you smug bitch.” He clinked his glass against mine. “To Lei-Lei’s
normal life. May she marry a run-of-the-mill John with a slight
beer belly, who only likes missionary with his socks still on.”

“To John. I can
see it now. On Tuesdays, he plays badminton and on Wednesdays, I
make shepherd’s pie–”

“–and every
second Thursday, you have four minutes of vacant sex. He indicates
this by brushing his teeth seventy-two seconds longer than usual
and tactlessly leaving the condom on the bedside table.”

“He sounds
dreamy.” I sipped my drink and choked, eyes bulging. “Jesus, Aid.
How strong is this? I told you, I can’t get drunk again!”

“Yeah, what’s
up with that, anyway?”

“It’s a long
story,” I grumbled.

He cocked a
coppery eyebrow. “I’m sure I can put up with you long enough to
listen. Unless something better comes along, anyway.”

I kicked him
under the table. “Arse.”

“You love it!
Now spill.”

“The last job I
did…it turned out to be for my boss and a guy in my office.”

Aidan’s turn to
choke. He grabbed my hands, squeezing them to bruising. “Oh my God.
How kinky! What was it like? Were they hot?”

“Keep your
voice down!” I hissed. “It’s complicated.”

“They
 
were
 
hot, then.” He drew one hand away and bit his fist. “Man
sandwich!
 
How
 
much fun is it?”

I sighed.
“That’s half the problem though…it was good. Really good. But my
boss wasn’t too pleased about the moonlighting, and he said I had
to finish any work I needed with him.”

“Ooh, Daddy.”
He released my poor hands, patting them. “He wants control.”

I nodded. “And
the other guy–Matt–asked me out on a date.”

“Yikes. He
didn’t read the handbook, did he?”

“Oh, it gets
better. My boss got me to screw his girlfriend last night, as one
of these last jobs. It’s fucked up, Aid. I was jealous. I don’t
know why, it’s not like I’m desperately in love with him or
anything…but I ended up at Matt’s.”

“And you fucked
Matt, pretending he was your boss.”

I laughed incredulously. “No. Well, I did
 
try
 
to fuck him but then my boss
rang me and Matt realized I’d been with him. And last night…it
seemed a good idea to send Matt some flowers, like some weird
gesture of condolence.” I put my head in my hands. “It’s
mortifying.”

“Your life is
an HBO sitcom.”

“I knew I could
count on you for support. Fag.”

“I’m bi, you
retard.” He silenced me with a hand. “And don’t call me a ‘bag’
again–it doesn’t work, it’s embarrassing.”

“You know what
else is embarrassing? I’m pretty sure I rang Will and begged him to
take me on again,” I groaned.

“Desperation is
not attractive, Lei-Lei. How will you snare John if you’re
languishing in self-pity and vomit?”

“There was no
vomit!”

“Yet.” He
sighed. “It always comes.”

“I do have some
class left, you know.” I hit the bottom of my glass and grimaced.
“It’s hard with your hedonistic influence, though.”

Aidan
straightened his collar. “Actually, while we’re on the subject of
Will–I have something to tell you.”

My eyes
widened. “Oh?”

“Nothing dirty,
before you say. It’s about his wedding.”

“No!” I
squealed. “You’re bailing out, aren’t you? Please tell me you
aren’t.”

“I got my first
professional video! I’m dancing at a National Trust mansion with
Lily Allen–”

“But you
promised,” I moaned. “Who am I meant to go with? I can’t take my
normal friends to my gay pimp’s wedding!”

“Gay
 
ex
 
pimp.”

“Like that
makes it better.”

“Don’t worry,
it’s all sorted. I asked Metro Paul.”

“But I don’t
 
want
 
to go with Metro Paul!” I
wailed. “He’s thinner than me.”

“Beggars can’t
be choosers,” he said in that annoying sing-song voice. “Aren’t you
happy for me? I’m going to be famous. This could be my big
break.”

“I thought you wanted to be
 
in
famous.”

“I’m pretty sure once I score Nikolai, I’ll have that one
covered. You know who you
 
should
 
ask.”

“Who?”

Oh no. He wore
the evil imp smile. “Matt.”

“Don’t be
ridiculous. He’s weird about the whoring as it is.”

“You keep saying you want
 
normal
–that would be what his reaction is.”

“He hates me,”
I mumbled.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately, Jessica Rabbit? He
doesn’t hate you. He probably
 
wants
 
to,” he laughed, “but I’ll bet
you can bring him around–especially with lovely gestures like
flowers. What next, a spa day?”

“Fuck off.”

“Maybe just a
facial, then…”

“I offered as
much last night, and he said no.” I sloshed my straw about in
melted ice.

“Shall we get
more drinks?”

“Hell yes. But maybe no more booze
 
pour vous
–you’re awfully sweary already.” His eyes lit up.
“
Or
 
we could go
dancing.”