I sat down unobtrusively, not exactly avoiding the others’ gazes but hoping they’d continue their thread of conversation while I regained my composure. It worked, and for a moment or two I was just able to breathe and let it all wash over me. Part of me was unsettled – like I said, I was always getting into scrapes, yet when I’d accepted this dinner invitation, I certainly hadn’t expected to have a fellow guest – possibly the partner of another guest – go down on me in the loo. But I was exhilarated too. I’ve always got off on the seedy and the illicit.
Morgan finally took his place back at the table, and though I thought I saw questioning glances exchanged between him and Kyle, and then him and Tatiana, nothing was said.
We ate our dessert and moved onto Kyle’s big cream sofas for coffee. I was keeping my head down even more now, afraid not only of Tatiana but of Kyle. Whether he was attracted to me or not, it was certainly not the done thing to fuck another dinner guest in the middle of the party. I was certain he wouldn’t want to know me any more.
Then it was time to say our goodbyes. Tatiana and Morgan got up as one, and I was overcome with curiosity as to the nature of their relationship.
‘Do you guys have far to go?’ I said. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Not so far,’ said Morgan, and for the first since since I’d orgasmed with his tongue inside me, our eyes met. I felt a little dizzy, not out of lust for him but at the pressure, I suppose, that had built up over the course of the evening.
‘We have a house in Belsize Park,’ added Tatiana, her eyes lingering on mine. I may have been paranoid, but there seemed to be something knowing, something mocking, in them.
As they waited for their taxi to arrive, we gathered in the doorway for the obligatory air-kissing.
‘By the way,’ said Tatiana, turning back to me as their car drew up along the pavement, ‘do you have a card? As we’re in the same line of work …’
I shook my head.
‘Here,’ said Kyle, handing me a piece of paper and a pen. ‘Write it down. It is all about contacts, you know? Tatiana might be able to introduce you to some interesting people.’
The last thing I need right now is interesting people, I thought to myself, but I scribbled down my mobile number and email address anyway, and handed them to Tatiana.
‘Great,’ she said, flashing me a smile, and suddenly it seemed that she too was interested in me. I wondered what had changed, for her, all of a sudden.
She and Morgan descended the stone stairs down to the pavement. As the taxi driver opened the back door for them, they turned towards us to wave goodbye. As they did so, I saw Tatiana bring one of Morgan’s hands to her face, sniff at it. They exchanged a look, then, and a thrill rippled through me: Morgan’s fingers, I thought, must still bear the scent of me.
They looked back towards us. ‘Thanks again, Kyle,’ said Tatiana, but her eyes were not on him. She was staring at me.
‘Lovely to meet you, Rochelle,’ she said. She waved the piece of paper with my details on.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ she called, and in the chill night air her laughter rang out like broken glass.
***
When they’d gone, Kyle and I sat down to finish up the coffee. I knew I should go easy on the caffeine, but I was already resigned to not sleeping that night. I was just too wound up. I wondered what I was going to do when I left here. I couldn’t imagine going back to Rachel’s flat. I’d climb the walls.
I looked at Kyle, wishing I fancied him, wishing I went for the sensible options. It had always been like this, since I was a teenager and felt the first inklings of desire. I’d only ever wanted the bad boys or girls, the dangerous ones who would lead me into darkness. Anybody clean-cut, polite and kind was an immediate turn-off. And if they wanted me, that was a turn-off too, unless – as with Morgan – I’d seen an opportunity to use them for my own ends. I could do that with Kyle, of course, but I didn’t want to. Kyle wasn’t playing the kind of power games with me that Morgan had wanted to. Kyle wasn’t a taker.
What I really wanted now, if only I’d acknowledge it to myself, was to fall into bed with Kyle for a good, long, sexless, matey cuddle. I never did that with anyone these days, and suddenly I regretted it – and pined for it. For so long it had all been about the sex and desire. Even with the girls at the club, for many of whom I felt genuine affection, and who I believed felt affection for me, there was a frisson. After all, we shared a dressing room, saw each other naked night after night. And familiarity couldn’t take away from the eroticism of my colleagues’ lovely bodies. I admit that I often thought of some my colleagues’ beautiful tits and pussies as I wanked myself to sleep at dawn.
We sat together for a long time, much of it in a companionable silence. Kyle obviously didn’t suspect that anything had gone on between me and Morgan, despite his and Tatiana’s weird behaviour as they climbed into the taxi. In some ways, I thought, he must be a true innocent. They’d been so blatant, even I was shocked. But then of course I knew what was going on in their heads. Kyle didn’t.
‘So,’ I said finally, stretching. ‘I’d best make a move, I guess.’
Kyle turned to me. ‘You don’t have to,’ he said.
‘Do you have a spare bed?'
He placed one hand on mine. ‘No,’ he said.
For a moment the thought played around my head: What the hell? We could fuck, and nothing need come of it. Just a friendly fuck, and then never again. It might not be the best fuck of my life, but it would stop me wandering about the streets, meeting the wrong kinds of people, getting into trouble.
But then I looked into his eyes, and I knew that he was a gentle, sensitive soul – the very antithesis of Morgan – and that it would be very wrong of me to hurt him.
I shook my head gently. ‘I like you too much,’ I said softly, pulling his head to my shoulder. There was something childlike about him, something that needed protection. But I was the last person to be able to protect anyone.
For a while we just sat there, unmoving, and then Kyle stood up and went over to the window.
‘I wonder,’ he said, looking out into the blackness, ‘what Rachel’s doing now.’
Chapter 7: Rachel
When I opened the door to Rochelle’s friends, I didn’t know that I was opening the door to another world – a world that would change my life forever.
There were six of them, all but one of them guys, all of them gorgeous. The guys, it turned out, were fashion models. I’d never even met a model before – my photos are always of real people – so I immediately felt out of my depth.
The leader of the pack, it was clear from the outset, was Konrad, a too-cool-for-school half-German guy of about twenty-five, with cat-like green eyes that twinkled behind a curtain of chestnut hair and the squarest jaw I’d ever seen. I surmised pretty quickly that he was Rochelle’s boyfriend from the way he took ownership of the flat, lounging around on her – my! – bed, rifling through a drawer for something he said he’d left behind.
I was feeling a bit crowded in by all these strangers taking over my new space. They all seemed a bit manic too, and I wondered if they were on something. At any rate, I was glad when they suggested going out for a drink nearby. I’d been cooped up in the apartment for too long anyway – spying on other people, mainly. It wasn’t healthy.
We didn’t go far – just around the corner to the rue de Navarin. One of their friends, explained Konrad in excellent English, was the mixologist in the bar of the Hôtel Amour, and they often drank there.
I