My first day back at work.I wonder if my colleagues will know me, see the Creature I have become. The memory of the weekend snaps at me throughout the day, distracting me from my work on the Mitcheson account. I relive every detail of my time with Becky and Josh. The imagery is intense, like flashbacks after some exotic hallucinogen. I can hardly function, and I slip away from my desk and go to the restroom to masturbate, scratch the unappeasable sexual itch that torments me. I stand in a stall, shimmy out of my suit pants and hang them on the back of the door. With my knickers around my ankles, I stand with my legs spread as far as the rolled down underwear allows. My nerves jagged nerves add to the frisson of the moment, knowing the stillness of the space might be shattered at any moment by the intrusion of a colleague obeying the call of nature. I am as quiet as a church mouse, finger myself to completion, hardly daring to draw breath at all.As my fingers work my clit, I think about either Josh and Becky, those things they did to me, each in their unique way. It was hard to cum in silence. Restrooms do echo so.After work, I decide to go home and have it out with Ian, get closure on our relationship. But I can’t muster the courage to go inside my own house. I sit in Becky’s Range Rover, my nerves about to get the better of me, unable to untangle myself from the fear that has snared me.I ring Josh on the mobile he gave me and tell him where I am, that I’m not sure I can face Ian now that the time has come.He tells me he’ll come over and that I should wait for him, “Just in case,” he says.Hearing his voice, I feel so stupid, such a child, a princess phoning her daddy.I tell myself I’m an adult woman.”No. I’m okay now. This is my shit. I need to sort it myself,” I tell him.Out of the car and up to the front door, a deep breath as the key slips the latch.Ian usually gets home after me, so I have a half-hour to kill. I go upstairs to get the rest of my stuff. The bed appears unslept in — which is strange as Ian never makes our bed. Perhaps he could not bear to spend a night in the space we have shared so many years. I wait for an hour: still no Ian. I try his phone: no reply. He’s probably taking advantage of his newfound freedom, fucking some slapper from his firm at this very moment.I phone Josh again.”Tell me about the last time you saw Ian.””I already have.””Just — It doesn’t look like he’s been home this weekend. Did he say anything unusual?””If him fuming and threatening to do me some damage is usual… Then, no!””What exactly did you tell him about me?” “Listen, Cass. We’ve been through this before.” “I’m going to stay here until I see him. I can’t hide away at yours forever. I need closure. You’ve both been so generous — what with the car and all.””Cassie! Becky and I both love you to bits. Do what you have to. You know where we are. Any problems, just phone us.””But I have Becky’s car.””Hold onto it until you’re sorted?””How will Becks manage?””She’ll have to make do with cabs. Listen. Can we meet up Wednesday?”I’m out with the girls from work Wednesday.””Thursday then? Becks and I need to arrange things for this weekend with you.””The weekend?””Hendrix’s party.””So soon? I’m not sure I’m ready to meet —””— Listen, Creature!” The sudden intrusion of his voice as Dominus sets my nerves on edge. “You have no say in the matter.”Without thinking, I say, “Yes, Dominus. Of course I’ll come.”After speaking to Josh, I telephone Ian’s Mum, Jean. She tells me her son flew out of Manchester on Sunday. A last-minute decision. Spain. He’d texted her from Barcelona that evening. And she knows all about me walking out on him, calls me a bitch, says she warned him about me after the first time he took me home, said she knew my reputation, is glad he’s shot of me.When I tell her to fuck off, that her house stinks of cats, it is as if I have crushed a big black beetle under my heel.I go out for a drink with the girls from work on Wednesday evening. It’s Abbi from accounts’ birthday. I’m in my work clothes sitting with my colleagues around two tables pushed together in the Red Lion, the table littered with bottles and glasses, main courses half-eaten, the debris of our meals set aside. The rattle of cutlery and earthenware as the waitress piles crockery on her forearm. She’s a pretty thing, smiles as she clears our mess, looks as if she has no care in the world. I envy her. When Jessica from HR starts going on about her weekend with her boyfriend at Alton Towers, I want to say none of those rides at the theme park would Ümraniye Escort compare to the white-knuckle experience of my weekend.The others are no better, talking about shopping, their kids, Carla’s new car. The conversations bore me. I look around the pub, my eyes hunting for the young and gorgeous.A couple at their table is just like Ian and me. I watch them, swimming in the gulf of silence between them. He has eyes only for the match playing out in silence on the giant plasma above the bar. The woman, the wife — for she can only be his wife — rests her phone on the table, picks it up and reads a message, taps a quick reply, returns to watching people come and go.She notices me, the way I stare, and her eyes warn me off. I turn away and feign interest in something Kath says about Michael Forester, the new junior partner in the firm. I laugh where the others merely smile, immediately shrink at realising how absurdly loud I am. And then I’m silent, crushed by the memory of the woman’s eyes. The laughter and banter of my colleagues wash over poor shipwrecked me.A little later, from the corner of my eye, a mid-twenties couple heading to the bar. She is tall and blonde, very like Becky in her sense of style, her deportment. Her partner is not as handsome as Josh, wears a boyish charm that threatens arrogance. I imagine them wealthy. Close up, reeking of affluence.I watch as they pay for their drinks and then take a seat just yards from where I sit among my colleagues. I wonder why they are in the city centre, visiting this dive of an after-work trough. Perhaps the pair slumming it, purposefully out hunting for a girl like me. I imagine it’s the case, and how later they will be undressing me, kissing my body all over, every dark and fragrant cavity. They’ll probably have ropes back at home — know about knots.My phone pings. A text from Josh, though my display now has him as Dominus.DOMINUS: Where are you?ME: With the girls from work. I did say.DOMINUS: Having fun?ME: No! sulky faceDOMINUS: What are you thinking right now?ME: About a lovely couple I know.DOMINUS: Shame you had commitments.ME: I’m so fucking bored.DOMINUS: Boredom is easy to escape. Look around.ME: That’s what I’ve been doing.DOMINUS: Anyone you’d like to take home with you?ME: Will you come for me, Dominus?DOMINUS: We have guests. No one that you like, then?ME: Should there be?DOMINUS: It would please me if there were.ME: Maybe one.DOMINUS: A picture, please?ME: If I can.I stand up, walk round to the head of the table, say I want to get a shot of all the girls. As one, they assume the pose, arms around shoulders, cheek to cheek pouting. But I aim too high, zoom in on the couple just beyond our table, click five times to be sure.I resume my seat, send the images to Josh.DOMINUS: She looks like a bad girl.ME: Do you think?.DOMINUS: Yeah, a filthy slut of a girl!I look over at the couple again, focusing on the female, her sloe-eyed beauty, the sensuous self-ease she exudes from merely being in the world. Anything but a slut, I think.ME: She reminds me of Darling Girl.DOMINUS: Give them the come-on.ME: I’ll look a fool.DOMINUS: And you were doing so well. Slut!ME: I’m with colleagues!DOMINUS: Be subtle. Eye contact. Facial expression. Wink if you have to.Dominus and his Darling Girl will be so cross if you don’t even try.ME: Okay. DOMINUS: Report back soon.I psyche myself into the role, convince myself they have been an item for far too long, are maybe at that point in their relationship where a threesome with a girl like me might be at the back of their minds. As I watch them, I try to glean something of their natures. They are just the kind of people who’d want to pamper a girl like you, Cassie.I feel ridiculous when neither notices me. I try to feel sexual, imagine myself on my back and him fucking me while she straddles my face.I eventually get the attention of the bloke, a lingering eye exchange — though I’m sure he thinks I’m an insane person who has neglected to take her meds.Yes, he’s getting the message. But when his partner sees, understands the nature of the looks I am throwing to her man, she pins me with a gaze of such sexual laden intensity that it throws me off-kilter.My eyes convey so much. They tell her I can be whatever they want me to be. I send her an outrageous wink to rob her of any doubt.She smiles, turns to her husband and says something. The pair smile this weirdly jubilant smile at each other. She reaches to her side, picks up her bag and dips into it, bringing out a pen and notebook, places Ümraniye Escort Bayan the pad on the table and begins to write.When she has done, she tears the paper from the pad, folds it neatly in half, and hands it to her fellah. They drain their drinks, stand up as if about to leave. But then he comes over to where I sit, stoops down by my side and hands me the message the female has just composed. Before he stands and leaves, he whispers in my ear: “We’re staying at the Metropolis. Call us later.” Then he’s off to join his girl, who is already on her way to the door.I am dumbfounded. How easy was that? I looked at the digits neatly printed in blue ink, their names, Erika and Adam. Another number at the bottom: 516.”Who was that?” Abbie asks.”A friend of Ian’s,” I say.I get my phone from my bag, ignoring Abbie’s, “I don’t believe you. What was that he gave you? Have you pulled, Cassie? You have, haven’t You!” Then turning to Lizbeth, “Cassie’s pulled.”I key Josh’s number, ignoring Abbie when she turns back to me, “But he was with a girl, wasn’t he?””His sister,” I say as I begin texting.ME: They gave me their number, names too.DOMINUS: Names, please?ME: Adam and Erika.DOMINUS: You must call them.ME: I’m horny, Dominus. Can’t you come and fetch me instead? I want to be with you and Daring Girl, not two strangers.DOMINUS: I told you, we have guests tonight. Call Erika and Adam. Do it now.ME: I love you.The connection is lost.I wonder what kind of girl I am becoming. Last week, if someone had said to me that next Tuesday you will be debating with yourself whether to go to a strange couple’s hotel room, I’d have called them insane.But then this time last week I did not have Dominus to order my life.I need something to calm my nerves, go to the bar and buy a gin and tonic. A double. It’ll take me over the limit, but what the hell? There’s always a cab.I sit on a stool at the bar and take out the slip of paper the guy from the couple gave me. I wonder about him for a moment, this stranger named Adam. But it is the memory of Erika’s eyes that thrill me the most as I study her handwriting while sipping my drink, the digits and letters formed so precisely. No chance of misinterpretation here.I get out my phone and text her.ME: Hi. I’m Cassie. The girl in the pub?My phone is a dead pet in my palm. Then the ping that startles me, and I read her message:ERIKA: Hi, sweetheart. We’re in the Metropolis. Room 141?ME: The Metro. Round the corner?ERIKA: Please hurry. The night is escaping.I tell the girls from work I have a headache. They are at that stage where everyone is a new Bessie-mate, and I think of all the office politics, the gossip, the bitchiness.I pick up my jacket and put it on, then pause, stand expectantly surveying my colleagues let out to graze. What am I expecting? I don’t know. Maybe some signs of them being sorry to see me going so early.I say goodnight, turn my back and walk away. But Chloe, the teenage intern, comes rushing after me, catches up with me by the door. “Cassie! Wait.”I ignore her, am twenty paces down the street when she catches up with me, placing her hand on my shoulder.”You okay?” she asks. “You don’t seem yourself today.””Just that Ian…” Oh, shit. Don’t you dare begin to cry, Cassie!Then Jane, at the pub door, lighting a fag is calling, “Chloeeeee!”Chloe turns to look, waves to Jane and then turns back to me and says, “We must have a proper chat.”And I think: I’d rather lick razor blades. But I smile, pure saccharine, say, “Yeah, we should.”I suffer her embrace, her cheek against mine. My tongue is curious, peeps out from between my lips and tastes her flushed flesh. I expect her to recoil. But she doesn’t, merely steps back half a pace and stares at me with eyes like a doll’s saucers. I wait for her outrage.But there is only astonishment, a re-modelling of the landscape of her features. And I think, yeah, if you could keep that pretty mouth of yours shut for just one minute, Chloe, sweetheart, then, perhaps — just perhaps — I might let your tongue lick my cunt.When I endure the search for certainty in her baffled eyes, I do not flinch like I would have only last week. Instead, I play the vamp, imagining myself as her mistress, her bound and at my mercy. Her kindness makes me want to punish her. Would Josh be pleased if I brought her to him? Would he let me play with her in his dungeon?But it is hardly five seconds before she turns from me and walks away. I watch her go, appreciate the curve of her arse as she sashays her way to the door. She manages Escort Ümraniye ten paces before she turns and gives me a questioning glance. I see the car wreck of uncertainty that the tip of my tongue has made of her pretty face. She waves like a silly little girl, but I turn away and let a sudden spate of early evening drinkers carry me along, past the locked up charity shops and estate agent, the new-gentrified bistros and wine bars. I pace the lobby of The Metropolis full of indecision, shovelling all rationality into the furnace of my mind, stoking up the courage to get into the lift and ascend to who-knows-what. The young receptionist casts her eyes my way. Perhaps she thinks I’m an escort. I reassure myself that no self-respecting hooker would be on call in a pantsuit, flats, and white cotton blouse. Would any girl with a commission to fuck for hundreds an hour wear her hair like mine?I find a chair in the corner, sit down and take out my phone. Before I go up to their room, I want to be confident there is no misunderstanding. ME: I’m in the bar. ERIKA: Should I come down for you?ME: No. I’ll find my way. Just wanted to be sure.I visit the ladies before taking the lift, check my face and tweak my makeup while wondering why I still look like a half-formed girl when I am a grown woman. It is hard to believe anyone finds me attractive. I straighten my clothes, put a comb through my hair. Then it’s back out into the lobby, striding past the receptionist holding my head high. I catch her eye and smile. The smile she returns is genuine, warmly meant.But by the time I’m on the fifth floor standing outside their door, I’m ready to about-face and head back to the lift. What are you doing here? Do you honestly want this? What would the person you were only two weeks ago say if she could see you now? But now that was before your Dominus, the one who says you must.I knock and wait, my apprehension off the scale. Adam, in his shirtsleeves, opens the door. He’s smiling widely, has a tumbler of dark spirit in his hand. The ice clinks against the side when he shifts position, standing back as he opens the door wider to let me pass. But my legs have declared independence from my brain, and I stand in the corridor looking like a student at the headmaster’s door. My thoughts tumble around the confines of my skull like a space tourist in free fall.”Don’t be shy,” he says. “Erika’s here too. Let me take your jacket.”I step inside but dare not venture further, linger in the small hallway next to the coat stand. He’s behind me, helps slip my jacket from my shoulders. After hanging it on the rail, he comes back to me and reaches out, runs his index finger along my jawline. “You’re a stunning little thing, aren’t you? What’s your name?””Cassie,” I tell him, “But everyone calls me Cass.””Erika is going to love unwrapping the rest of you, Cass.”Cheesy! You were stupid to come, Cass.He sees the apprehension that squalls across my features. He places both hands on my shoulders and turns me bodily around so that I look into the heart of the room.And that is when everything changes, the moment I see Erika.She has changed her clothes, now wears a simple black mini dress whose finely stretched material hugs her curves to show her toned and supple body, her smooth and long legs. She has bunned the cascade of her blonde hair in place with a finely crafted silver chignon.When I’d seen her earlier, I’d thought her much like Becky. But now I see she is taller, would stand over six feet even minus those fabulous heels. And when she comes to greet me, to kiss me on the cheek, she has to stoop down and tilt her head sideways while I go up on tip-toe, eager as toddler fed ice cream on a spoon.”Oh sweetie, you’re adorable,” she tells me. Then, taking my hand and leading me into the body of the room, she tells me as we walk, “Adam didn’t think you’d come, said you were teasing us. And I said, no, darling, she looks such a guileless sweet thing. She wouldn’t be so cruel.” Then she turns to Adam and says, “Get her a drink, then, stupid.”She puts her arm around my shoulder and steers me to a large corner sofa set in an alcove across from the bed. The only hotels I had ever stayed in were either seaside B&Bs or Travel Lodges, so having a posh sofa in a room alongside a bed seemed odd. I look around and see how sumptuous the room is, wonder how much a night here costs.Her intoxicating scent clings, has begun its secret mission among my hair, caressing my clothes, so subtle. Expensive, I imagine. Soon its cloying sweetness will taint my lips, the legacy of her kisses.She sits across from me on the corner sofa, close enough so that sometimes our knees brush. Her enormous, almond-shaped eyes are the blue of arctic ice.”When we first saw you, you had the look of a person in need of an adventure,” she says.”I was bored.””With your friends?”