Falloir (Passion Noire Book 2) (20 page)

So, my blatant manipulation of Brittany is justified enough for me to be able to swallow it. I’ll do my best to shield her from the worst of it if the shit does hit the fan. I’m hoping I’ll be able to handle it in such a way that it won’t.

‘I’m desperate, Brittany. I need work as quickly as you can swing it. Do you have anything for tomorrow?’

She shakes her head. ‘No, sorry. Tomorrow is sorted, although if anyone cancels or we have an urgent request, I always struggle to find someone at short notice. I already have my casuals covering holiday so you could find yourself with something very soon. If you could bring your application form and your documents in tomorrow sometime, I’ll get you set up for any work that comes in.’

‘So if someone cancels tomorrow or you have an urgent request for nursing help, you’d call me?

She lets out a deep breath. ‘If I’d had your complete application form and either seen your enhanced DBS certificate, if it’s very recent, or, if it’s not, that I’ve performed an Adult First check and we get an application in for an enhanced DBS certificate in ... although Jerry does those. I guess he could authorise it as soon as he’s back. It’s only a few days ... oh but, I’m not sure he’d be happy—’

I cut her off. ‘Cool. Well, financially, I hope you get something for me very soon, but it would be easier all round if it was after Jerry’s back.’

Would it, bollocks! I know that if she bottles and waits for Jerry, I won’t get a look in. Besides I want in now. She doesn’t look convinced so I bring out the big guns.

‘I tell you what ... this is just an idea, so feel free to say no ... how about we meet up for a drink tonight? I’ll give you my completed application form and my DBS certificate if it’s in date. That way, if something urgent comes up, you can do an Adult First check on me, take up verbal references from my application form and feel comfortable enough for me to help you out. I can’t deny that it would be a big help for me ... it could mean the difference between paying rent and getting evicted for me. You are a legend, Brittany. Do you know that?’

She blossoms in front of me, although still tinged with coyness. ‘You’re asking me out ... like on a date?’

I smile. ‘Like for a drink. I’d be honoured if you’d accompany me for a couple. I mean, an old man like me ... with a stunning young lady like you ... that would give me something to smile about.’

She looks almost giddy with happiness. I can tell she doesn’t get much male attention but I’ve no idea why. Another few years, and I’d be old enough to be her father. I’d have thought a pretty thing like her would have boys dangling off her every word. I swig the last of my tea and give her my phone number ... not the one to the phone in my pocket, oh no. I give her the number to a shiny new pay-as-you-go SIM that’s sitting in my wallet. Within ten minutes, that will be nestling inside a cheap-as-chips unregistered phone that’s languishing in the door pocket of my car.

She gushes about me not being old and how she’ll be the one smiling. I act bashful and make my excuses. I’ve an application form to fill in and a DBS certificate to find. Well, as far as she’s concerned I do. I need to research what’s required for the Adult First system and attempt to have fake documents sorted by tonight or first thing in the morning. I also have to make sure that Gareth, Thierri’s usual nurse, cannot turn into work in the morning.

SINCE I WATCHED JONES drive off, I’ve desperately tried to get my head straight. Every day it’s like there’s a new pile of crap landing in my lap. It’s all escalating so quickly and, frankly, it’s getting out of hand. A few months ago, my life was orderly ... almost anally so, like a streamlined chain of strategically placed dominos. Now, it’s like someone’s toppled the starting domino and I’m powerless to stop the chain of events that has been triggered.

I cannot believe Jones blurted out that The Kid’s mother was his sister and that she was dead, just like that. I know he says he thought he was handling it sensitively and I have no reason to doubt that he had The Kid’s best interests at heart. But I can’t help this feeling of agitation that’s trapped inside me.

And don’t get me started on him evading members of a government department that were waiting for him outside his flat. Thank goodness The Kid had his tablet and his iPod with him in Jones’ car or I’d most likely be on my way to the nearest electronics store. God only knows when we’ll be able to retrieve our things from Jones’ flat. I’m happier being here though and I’m glad he’s secured my old front door properly although the new one will be installed tomorrow.

Add the Thierri situation and the fact that Paul is out of prison, not to mention the usual stresses and strains of being a therapist, hearing all about their woes ... I’m surprised I’m not in a corner somewhere rocking back and forth. It feels like everything’s bubbling up inside me because I don’t have time to deal with any one thing before something else plops into my lap. Like poor Dan. And now Jones is effectively homeless ... what to do there?

After waking up with his arms around me this morning, I’m in no rush to repeat the experience. But, since he took us in, what choice do I have but to offer him a place to crash? With any luck, he is as mortified and unsettled by this morning’s rude awakening as me and he’ll offer to sleep on the sofa. I’ve wiped the walls in The Kid’s room and I’ve almost finished mine. Freshly washed bedding adorns the beds and clean air has been circulated throughout the flat when the windows and my balcony door were all thrown wide open when Jones was here earlier.

They’re closed and locked again now. Until Paul is taken care of or I feel confident that he’s lost interest in me, I’m not taking chances. Not when Jones isn’t here. That’s another reason to allow him to stay here, I guess. He makes me feel safe ... but that, right there, that bothers me. I vowed never to need anything from a man. I shouldn’t need a man to feel safe. I shouldn’t need a fucking bodyguard, for fuck’s sake.

Anger and frustration are once again bubbling away inside me. I finish wiping the back of my bedroom door and head into the shower. The minute Jones gets back, I’m out of here. I can’t be around him tonight. Besides, there’s only one thing that will restore my inner calm and it’s waiting for me at Vouloir. I think I’ll put that delectable sub, who was with Elaine that night, through his paces tonight. He certainly seems capable of ticking all my boxes ... perhaps he can help me keep a lid on some rattling little boxes too.

As soon as I set foot out of the shower cubicle, there’s a tap on the bathroom door.
Jones.
I make sure I’m wrapped up securely in my bath sheet and open the door.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Firstly, all went well at the nursing agency. Barring a problem, I’ll be inside Thierri’s tomorrow. But I need a favour, I’m meeting the girl from the agency for drinks later and I don’t want to turn up without showering. I also have no spare clothes so—’

‘So you were wondering whether you could wash and dry them?’ I finish for him.

He smiles. ‘Yeah. I can’t go back to mine or there’s no chance of me getting inside Thierri’s tomorrow. Would you mind?’

I give him a fake smile before pushing past him. ‘Why would I?’ I toss over my shoulder before walking into my room and closing the door firmly behind me.

I towel dry my body vigorously. Why would I be bothered about him coming here to get ready for a date?

I couldn’t give a shit.

I’m attempting to detangle my hair when it occurs to me that I don’t have to go out now he’s not going to be here. However, when a particularly tricky tangle has me almost throwing my hairbrush at the wall, I figure that I definitely need the release that only a thorough D/s session can bring. Let Jones go and have his fun with some
girl
from the agency ... I’ll be where real women belong, with a real man at my feet. A real man who has no time for mere girls.

An hour and a half later, I’m ready. For some reason, I found myself paying extra attention to my appearance tonight, purely so that I could remain inside the sanctuary of my bedroom. I’m primped and preened to within an inch of my life and my torso is poured into one of my more extreme corsets that takes a good eight inches off my waist and seems to push most of it up to boost my already full cups.

Years of wearing steel-boned, waist-training corsets enable me to negotiate the restrictions like a pro but this one is pretty extreme so I don’t wear it often. But when I do, I know that every eye in the room will be drawn to my severe hourglass shape. I’m sure men are programmed in their DNA to respond to that body shape. Sure, they may have their eyes drawn to a skinny catwalk model too but it’s more than their eyes that are drawn to an hourglass figure. It’s a primal calling ... a direct hotline to the little swimmers inside their balls. Wearing this corset, I’m basically saying ‘fuck me’ to any fertile man who crosses my path. However, my past and my dominant vibes ensure that few dare to approach me.

I can’t help but smile. I know what this corset does to Gabe ... if there was one way for him to overcome his objection to breaking his self-imposed chastity vow, this corset is it. Thankfully for him, I’m pinning my hopes on the man mountain of masculine subbiness being in the club tonight. I may be willing to break the rules and access his membership file and call him in. Failing that, I’ll consider a ménage ... with at least one male sub. Yeah, tonight I have specific needs that only a talented cock can sate ... but I have no objection to female fingers and tongues getting in on the act too. I quite like being whipped into a frenzy before a big, hard cock slays me, releasing all my inner tension and stress.

Oh yeah, tonight is going to be epic.

I leave the sanctuary of my room to say goodbye to The Kid before I call a cab to take me to Vouloir. I hear noises in the kitchen so I head that way. It’s not The Kid I heard. It’s a very naked Jones ... well, he has a tiny towel tucked around his waist but my eyes see through it. I have the luxury of knowing how good he looks naked and my mind conjures up that view instead. I can feel his hunger as his eyes rake over my body before locking on to mine. Fleetingly, I notice that he’s still wearing the brown coloured contacts before I find myself returning his heated stare as my heart first forgets to beat for a second or two and then makes up for lost time by hammering inside my ribs.

For a second, neither of us move a muscle. It literally is an effort just to breathe. It’s as though we’re both daring the other to make the first move, yet we’re both too afraid because of the consequences. Consequences ... there’s a good word. Focus on that. There are reasons for keeping Jones at arm’s length ... I’m fucked if I can think of any at this moment in time but there are. I force myself to break the deadlock, realising that he’s not going to and mutter, ‘I’m going to call a cab to take me to Vouloir. You’ve got a key to the new lock, haven’t you?’

I see the regret of a missed opportunity in his eye as he nods. I almost blurt out that he should make the most of his opportunity with the girl from the nursing agency but I’m above such pointless, spiteful acts. I’m not above thinking it though—for some reason that bugs me.

‘Okay, so there’s no problem if you’ve finished with your date before I’m done at Vouloir, just let yourself in and crash on the sofa.’

‘I’m not going on—’ he begins but thinks better of it. ‘Thanks. I’m sure I’ll be back before you’re
done
at Vouloir. There’s no need for you to call a cab though. The tumble dryer cycle only has another couple of minutes and then I’ll be off so I’ll give you a lift. It’s safer.’

My eyes had narrowed at his deliberate stressing of the word ‘done.’ It seems that double-entendres are de rigueur for Jones. I’ll rise above it and, although I’m tempted to order a cab, I know I’ll be spiting myself. I’ll get there faster with Jones and the sooner I’m there, the sooner I can give that big hulk of man the time of his life. I try to conjure up the proud naked image of him that’s not been far from my consciousness since that night in the playroom but, to my frustration, it’s a vision of Jones, naked and proud and so very willing that forms in my mind.

‘Thanks,’ I manage before high-tailing it out of there to see The Kid. What is it with Jones that makes me act like a fucking teenager? It used to be the blond hair and the blue eyes. But now he is standing there with a shaved head and brown contacts—why the hell does he still unsettle me? Is it because I still see him with his real attributes? I tell myself that it is but I know that I didn’t really see blond hair or blue eyes. I saw ink and ...