My palms sweat, making it hard not to slip on the smooth counter top. I hold each breath as long as I can before taking another. Still tender from cumming once already, the pain as he slams into me without warning or touching is blissful. Hardness invades me in one swift move.
I slide forwards, my hands slipping out from under me, and my chest ends up flush with the cold surface as Sal grabs my hips and yanks me closer to him, not slowing down or stopping.
He is letting me know that my absence is noted. My pleasure isn’t of any importance now, no, I had my turn and this is about what Sal needs.
My body slides and he yanks it back on every stroke. He grunts when he empties himself inside me, three days of pent up sexual frustration filling me up, and then drips onto the kitchen counter in his family home.
Shame rides over me like waves in the ocean, as I look at what I have become.
You are a whore, Chelsey, a well-paid whore.
Sal uses and fucks me all night until he passes out. I try to sleep, but being in his home makes me uneasy. I feel dirty. When it is at a hotel I don’t feel like this.
At 2 a.m. the nausea returns. I thought I was past this, I was fine all evening and even managed to eat my dinner without feeling ill.
I slither out of his enormous bed and go to find a guest bathroom as I’d rather not puke within earshot of him. It’s cold in the big house and my skimpy little silk top and shorts do nothing to keep me warm.
By the time I get downstairs and locate a loo, I am shivering and swallowing my gags. I empty my stomach, rinse out my mouth, and go see if I can find something in the kitchen to make this stop.
I’m like a burglar creeping around in the dark.
Sal is upstairs, so I turn on the lights and open up the cabinets, finding some ginger tea I think may help. Well, the thought of it isn’t making me heave, so I give it a try. I boil water and pour it over the small triangular tea bag and let it brew while I open drawers looking for a spoon.
Sitting at the counter where a few hours ago I was spread out on top of it getting thoroughly fucked, I stare into a cup of tea, breathing in the ginger smell and wondering how on Earth my life got so screwed.
I used to talk to Ailee, but now her perfect life is just as fucked. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to hear how, while she fell in love with a teacher, I ended up with an old rich man that likes to chase me and steal my knickers in fine dining restaurants.
How I want to stay away, but somehow I have this feeling he won’t let me go that easily.
I have seen the gun holstered under that designer suit. The shady men he does business with and his evasive answers when I ask about his work – Sal isn't a good guy. He’s the guy that you are ‘last seen with’ when your life becomes an episode of Law and Order. He’s so smooth that he gets away with it and you are just another statistic.
I’m going to be a statistic, probably more than one.
Drinking the tea slowly settles my uneasy stomach. When I’m sure that I don’t need to throw up again, I rinse the cup and put it away before going back upstairs.
Hearing a voice coming from down the passage, I dart into Sal’s room. His kid must be home. I clamber back into bed and listen to muffled tones until they are silent again.
Morning can’t come fast enough. I know Sal will drive me to work early so I can suck him off in the parking area before I go inside.
Four
Golden Platinum Blonde
CHELSEY
“Morning, Sunshine.” Alistair greets me way too bubbly for this early in my day. “How are you feeling? Have you seen a doctor? Is it contagious?”
No, it’s not, and I don’t have health insurance, you dick, so no I haven’t.
“No, Alistair, I’m not contagious. You can’t catch fabulous.”
He rolls his eyes as I lean over his counter to try and spy out the book.
“What have I got today?” I ask when I realize I can’t see upside-down.
“A cut and color at twelve, a men’s cut at three, and a style and set at four thirty.”
He rattles off the appointments without even looking. He is a walking-talking appointment book; he remembers everything. It’s quite amazing actually.
“Not too bad for a first day back. You look like shit though. Maybe you should go do your makeup with the lights on?” He pulls up his nose and looks me over.
“Fuck off, Alistair.” I flip him the bird on my way past to go find Ailee.
She’s not in the staffroom, or the kitchen, and her chair is empty. I wonder if she’s off today, but before I can ask Romi where Ailee is at, she comes out of the office door, letting it slam closed behind her.
Right, I forgot she’s my boss now.
I feel as if my best friend is slipping further and further away, but she barrels out the door and grabs my hands, dragging me behind her, I presume for a smoke break. The security gate clangs behind us and she inhales the cigarette like it’s oxygen and she’s suffocating.
“How’re you feeling? Bug gone?” she asks between puffs.
“I’m a bit better, still a bit fragile.” It’s not a complete lie.
“And the old dude?” She raises an eyebrow at me. “Did he kiss it better?”
Bitch.
“You are married to an old dude, at least I can dump mine if I want to,” I snarl back. “How is the husband?”
“It’s a work in progress because I still really want to hate him, but he just told me I can renovate the salon with no budget constraints.”
The two of us have fantasized about making this place over about a million times, so I understand the sparkle in her eye. This is going to be so much fun, like an extreme makeover salon edition.
“So you don’t hate him then?”
“I don’t know him, Chels. I am afraid of him, of who he is.” She sounds sad when she talks about it, like her feelings are torn in two.
“Have you had sex again?” I can’t help myself. “Other than the drunken regret night?”
She looks at the floor, the dumpster, anywhere but at me.
“So that’s a yes. Was it good?”
“I’m not telling you that.” She’s nodding while she answers with a giant cheesy as fuck smile on her face.
“Oh, it was good, that smile can’t lie.”
It’s time I just bite the fucking bullet and talk to her, because if I don’t tell someone soon I am going to go crazy.
“So, the old guy. Sal. I’ve been seeing him for a while. Like since you and Trent.” I bite my lip and kick a loose stone that’s in front of me. “He’s married, has a kid older than me.”
Her eyes are wide and she just looks at me. “Okay.” She seems a little confused. “So he’s having an affair? With you?”
I nod, because it sounds awful when she says ‘affair’. It’s not an affair, is it? His wife’s doing it too and she knows. Fuck, I don’t know.
“Don’t judge, Ailee. You lied to all of us, even about your name. He’s good to me. And his wife knows about it, she’s not exactly innocent.”
I try to justify it, to make it sound less sordid.
“The thing is, I know he won’t ever leave her. This is all I am going to be – his girlfriend. It’s fun and he’s not some boy from the club. He’s a real man, he treats me like a woman, not some conquest.”