No Strings Attached Ch 04

I wasn't sure how I got home, but I did.

Walking over to my drinks cabinet I took out some Mount Gay Extra Old and poured myself a healthy measure, added some more, considered it, added a bit more and then necked it. I spluttered but it stayed down.

Walking to the bathroom I stripped off my clothes as I went. I needed him off of me! I felt si... but before the thought could even form my stomach revolted, my insides trying to become my outsides. Stumbling into the shower I turned the water on as hot as I could stand it. His voice in my head, his scent on my body or was it that other guy's scent? Fuck! I grabbed my loofah and soap and started to scrub. I scrubbed until the water ran cold and my skin hurt.

"Just need to get through the weekend, just need to get through the weekend..." Then I could try to lose myself in work.

*****************

In the distance I could hear the phone ringing: once I thought I heard someone at the door, but I blotted everything out. And when the dreams started to invade... Thank God for drugs. Richard Ashcroft was wrong: the drugs do work.

So I slept the weekend away...

*****************

I was probably the only person in the world thanking fuck for Monday. Even the usual crush on the tube was a welcome distraction from my thoughts. I love what I do, it had always been my panacea, and I was hoping it would be again. But my mind wouldn't be still. Who did I have sex with: was it Carlos or was it that other guy in the room? Logically I knew it was Carlos, but the thought of that other guy being in the room with us, maybe touching me, certainly watching me...

Walking into the 'office' was a relief. I was Head Buyer for one of the leading lifestyle stores in London, The Store. I'd worked my way up from the shop floor and knew the brand inside out.

Even though The Store was over 60 years old, somehow we managed to keep the brand fresh and, there was no other word for it, funky. Bright twenty-somethings rubbed shoulders with established fifty-somethings, both generations happily shopping in the same place.

My team and I concentrated on anticipating and meeting the needs of our customers. We have developed new product ranges as well as sourcing products from all over the world. Over the last 10 years we had developed strong links with our suppliers ensuring new and exciting ranges hit our flagship and satellite stores regularly.

Buying is my business and I have to admit I'm an inveterate shopper. I have to be, as I always have to be aware of what the competition are up to. I might pop out to the supermarket, but you can bet your bottom dollar I will probably be popping into every shop I pass on the way.

One of the perks of the job – okay discounted clothes and shoes were up there – was travel and lots of it: three major buying trips a year, visiting national and international trade fairs, all of the UK degree shows and the odd trip to our suppliers.

"Hey, Lois, how was your weekend?" I dredged up a smile for my personal assistant, Lois the pocket rocket.

"Hey, M," Lois smiled back at me. "You're in early. Give me five and we can get started. And by the way, Juliana and Surita called and the messages they left weren't... polite. Please, please, please can you call them back?"

"Thanks, I will do. I need some coffee. Want one..."

The week began.

*****************

"... I've got your booking reference for your trip to Amsterdam – just pick the ticket up from the airport – and Antwerp via Eurostar so just pick it up at St Pancras. I think that's... no I got a call from a Karim Spalding asking for a meeting with you on Friday afternoon at 7pm. It's the only time he can do this week."

"I've never heard of him..." I racked my brain.

"He said you'd say that. He's from Bennahid Interiors. He's emailed some papers for you to look at. Remember the restaurant we went to when we were in Marrakech last year? He owns it and wanted to discuss a collaboration with you."

"I've been trying to get a meeting with them for months now. That's brilliant. Confirm it for me."

I had a very busy week ahead of me, but I knew I would have to call my cousin, Julianna, and best friend, Surita, at some point and make peace with them. Confession is good for the soul and all that...

*****************

I survived, just. I could handle the "9-5", but it's the hours outside that I hated to think about. It sounds like a cliché, but the nights are so long. No matter how many miles I ran or how many laps I swam sleep remained elusive. My brain just wouldn't quiet down.

Meetings on Friday evenings were just not done, but I had been trying to contact the Head Buyer of Bennahid Interiors for months and after doing some research knew that he divided his time between London and Marrakech. Maybe I could persuade him to have the meeting around the corner at Milk and Honey. It was a speakeasy-style private club that was great for less-than-formal meetings.

The ringing of the phone brought me back to the present.

"Hi Kevin, I'm expecting him. Can you send him up? Thanks."

Pulling out a compact I checked my makeup: minimal with nude lips and golden toned eyes. I smiled to myself, nothing had shifted in the 20 or so minutes since I'd freshened up.

Looking down, I was glad I'd opted for something that could go from day to night with no problem. A simple black shift dress emphasised my breasts and waist. Discrete sexiness was what I was aiming for. I balanced the severity of the dress with teetering heels and a slim-line clutch. I felt and looked good.

I went to the lifts to welcome my guest. I heard the ping as the doors opened and then the blood drained from my face.

"You! What are you doing here?!" It was him. The smug asshole that watched me have sex with Carlos, that other asshole.

"Mia, let's go into your office so I can explain." He was suave I'd give him that and also damnably good looking.

"No! You're not here on some bullshit pretence. We're going to talk about this collaboration that you dangled in front of me and that's it!" I tried, but failed to contain my anger, my voice high and tight with tension.

"If that's the way you want to play, OK. I was thinking that we could go out and discuss this over drinks and dinner?"

"No, Karim, I didn't choose to be some twisted exhibition for you and Carlos to get your rocks off! So no we're not going to act like we're friends. Now, if you'll excuse me you can wait in my office."

I quickly walked to the loo to gather my thoughts, pouring cold water over my wrists as I gave myself a pep talk.

But I knew I'd made a mistake as soon as I walked into my office. He was miles too big for the space. His presence took it over. I couldn't think.

"I've changed my mind. Let's go out."

"Mia, we need to clear the air and unless we do that this isn't going to work." He'd been looking out of my window, but turned around to address me.

"Karim, I can't do that now. You had to know that this would be a shock." I could feel myself almost pleading for his understanding. I wanted to kick myself.

"Mia, I tried to call you on Saturday, but you wouldn't pick up. We really need to talk."

I got up to walk out of the room and he grabbed me by the arm.

"Mia, calm down!"

"Did you film it?! Did you! You did, didn't you? Oh fuck, oh fuck, you'd better not have filmed it. You sick assholes!" All of the emotion that I'd tried to keep in check burst out of me.

My world was splintering, fracturing in front of my eyes. The pressure building up in my head was unrelenting, scary. I thought back to the day I responded to Carlos's ad. All I'd wanted was a little release. I was always thinking, always in control and I always did the right thing: I was the good daughter, the good girl, the good employee, always thinking about appearances and always concerned about doing the right thing. Women are often portrayed as beings who feel but don't think, and that wasn't me. I was a thinker, I thought before I did things. The only place where I truly let go was with my family and friends and maybe when I was in a club. With Carlos I'd found somewhere else to let go, in sex and it was so seductive. All I had wanted to do was let go...

Rough hands shook me from my introspection.

He looked me straight in the eye. "Mia, get your things. No arguments! Come on."

I grabbed my bag and we left the building.

His driver must have been waiting because as soon as we walked out a black Mercedes saloon pulled up. It didn't take long to reach our destination, a discrete and luxurious restaurant in Mayfair.

They were obviously expecting us, because the Maître d' didn't look all that surprised to see us and welcomed The Asshole by name before leading us to a table in the back.

The though of food made me sick to my stomach, but I followed the Maître d'.

"I don't know why you've brought me here. Did you think that I'd want to sit down with you and make nice?" I spat at him.

"Mia..."

"Don't say my name like you know me! I didn't invite you into my life, Asshole."

"I know what happened last week was a shock, but don't push me, little girl! We are going to eat and talk like adults and then I'll see you home. No discussion."

I could feel the anger coming off of him, and I was suddenly too tired to fight. Ok he had me here, and this restaurant was consistently rated one of the best in London and I had wanted to eat here forever so I gave in and listened as he talked.

His mother was Moroccan and his father French, I learned. He was schooled privately in France, before going to university in the US and the LSE for his MBA.

He was one of those men who wore their beauty lightly because they know they have other talents. Some would read his self-confidence as arrogance and it would get up their noses: like me, for instance. But despite myself I found him strangely attractive.

We ordered and talked, about everything and nothing, and before I knew it it was time for coffee. I was stuffed. I love good food that's prepared with care, so I had all three courses. Well it would have been rude not to, or at least that's how I justified it, and decided to run a couple of extra miles over the weekend. Then suddenly he's talking about that night again.

"Mia, I promise you I didn't know." I start to object but he stops me. "No, let me finish, please."

He sighs, "Carlos and I are very good friends, the best in fact. We've known each other a long time. We've shared women before, and everyone of them knew the score. We pride ourselves on being very good at whatever we do and that includes having sex with beautiful women." He had a rather endearing mish-mash of accents going on: French, American and a bit of English thrown in, but the words coming out of his mouth made me ill.

He looked away from my stare gathering his thoughts. "The Yin and the Yang. There is a perception (particularly in the West) that yin and yang relate to good and evil. However, Taoist philosophy generally discounts good/bad distinctions as superficial labels, preferring to focus on the idea of balance. Carlos and I balance each other. When he's rough, I'll play tender and when I'm aggressive, he plays the more solicitous role. When one part is at its height then the other is at its lowest ebb. It's a game where everyone wins."

I could feel my previous, fragile good mood evaporate like early morning mist meeting the sunrise. It's a game then.

He lowered his voice, and instinctively I leaned in to hear. "Every time I close my eyes it's there in glorious Technicolor. Mia, you are so responsive to touch. You are magnificent! I can't get the vision of you straining against your restraints as he savoured your cunt out of my head. 'It's like a delicate, little brown orchid, with rosy, dewy pink insides' was how he put it."

He smiled at me.

"He was right, you know, your cunt is exquisite. If you could just lose your puritan attitude towards sex we could all have a good time."

I wanted to lash out, to scream at him. "I need to go powder my nose," I said through gritted teeth, rising abruptly and grabbing my bag.

I had to get out of there, so after making a detour to the loo I surreptitiously left the restaurant only to find Karim waiting outside.

"I said I'd see you home."

Grudgingly I got into his car. It was late on a Friday night in central London. I wasn't going to get a taxi at this time of night.

He closed the partition between the front and the back of the car.

"It's obvious that you didn't know what Carlos was up to, so you shouldn't beat yourself up about it. Just take it for what it was, an experience."

"Can we not talk about this anymore? I'm really bored of this now."

Karim smiled at me. "Are you? Are you really?"

I turned away and watched the reflection of the car in the shop windows.

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Once again I need to thank fridayam for all of his help and for being fantastic!

And to all of you who have commented, voted or just read my piece I have no clue where this journey is going, but thanks for coming along for the ride.

SSM