Pearced (17 page)

Another email arrives:

Dear Miss Charles,

I enjoy the way you are vigilant in your new job and aim to please at every task. I look forward to witnessing all the other challenges that may come your way working here.

Daniel Pearce: Founder RANDom Denim.

Bloody hell.  FX half-pass to the left.

When I eventually leave for home, I am awash with confused carnal thoughts, and am sore everywhere, and I like it.  Pete can’t leave it alone after all, and it’s only been an hour, my phone vibrates and I must respond!

PF: “First day OK?” You have no idea.

TC: “Exhausting” (and I wasn’t kidding either) need more bloody tea.

PF: “Sounds interesting” it is.

TC: “You have no idea” but don’t worry, I’ll tell you later.

PF: “And the boy?” Here we go.

TC: “We had…lunch” not a lie exactly.

PF:: “Delicious…and?” She’s sharp that one.

TC: “
Fellatio
” whoopee.

PF: “Sounds Italian!” She's right, it does.

TC: “Idiot” true story.

PF: “Lucky swine, carnality in the middle of the working day” brilliant isn’t it?

TC: “Need new underwear” true story.

PF: “Haven’t I been telling you that for years, let’s go shopping…soon” I’ll put it in my diary for this week.

Note to self, buy new lingerie.

…also get haircut.

...also, stop talking to yourself.

…..well dear reader, what did you expect? 
More tea too
?

Chapter eight, Wednesday
:
23rdoctober2013, Tokyo

As we disembark the plane at Narita, the rain is sweeping down off the hills, a swirling ripple of silvering clouds look ominous above us and the whole ambience is that of dark brooding shades of grey. It’s warm, and windy too, our jackets flap crazily about our legs as we come down the steps to the tarmac below.

We have had no sleep, I feel jet-lagged before I even enter Tokyo, and still we have a bus ride ahead of us.   “I could use a little sleep Daniel.”  My head is still muzzy from the useless herbal tablets in my system, I slur sleepily not strong enough to send me to sleep, just make me floppy.  I have to hold tight to the handrail on the way down to avoid slipping over on the drenched surface of the steps.

“Let’s get to our hotel and make a plan from there eh?” He tells me turning his phones back on.  He winks at me through the flying strands of his hair, desperately trying to tame it but failing in the random effect of the wind.  A storm is brewing as I look above us, there's a current in the air as the clouds are rubbing together, the friction makes an atmosphere that dulls sounds and the grey now moves with increasing speed toward the ground, a bad storm.

We take the shuttle to the terminal, collect Daniels one bag from the carousel, a bashed up old canvas army holdall, with a skull and crossbones spray stencilled on the side in black, and an eagle and shipwreck motif finely embroidered on the other side. Daniel slings the bag effortlessly over his shoulder, I notice how the muscle bundles stretch in his forearm beneath the tattoos, and decide I like that too.  A strong man, bet he could unload a palette of hay in no time, fuck me twice and then start on the bedding palette to.  While he’s arranging himself my work phone buzzes, note to self, turn that bloody buzzing off!

NH: “Hi Tharie, its Newton, Daniels phone is still off, please tell him to switch it back on, he likes to keep in touch” I bet, control freak!

TC: “Done Newton, thank you” he is very nice, must remember to get him back stage passes to Henry's show, I promised.

NH: “Humvee is waiting, please tell him.” of course.

Daniel looks at his phone several times, it has no signal, odd, he switches it on and off, that fixes it and several texts vibrate their way into his handset. “Car” is all he says to his phone.  Daniel rakes back in place the stray strands of inky blackness that’s his wet hair, his tattooed fingers strain against the tangle to tame it.  This man, he so incredibly handsome, and he’s here with me. 

Note to self, make the most of this time. Tick.  

He takes my hand which sends a bolt of pleasure through my body, he has claimed me, and I like it.  Holding onto him is so intimate, and I begin to ache for more.   I fight the tiredness I feel, and respond by following him willingly as if he’s leading me by a rope outside into the crazy weather.   

No bus for us, Daniel has organised a car, a Humvee, its giant crouched to the ground predator shape in matte black, we bundle ourselves in and close the doors against the turmoil of weather outside.

He clings onto my hand as we drive toward the city centre, darkening wet and tall with Blade-Runner neon signage’s everywhere, a grey backdrop, I find this intense, I could imagine this beautiful man is mine, well he is for the next two days.

TC: “Babes, in your homeland, its bloody raining again.” Her grandparents lived here I think.

PF: “Where? Sidcup?” Very funny, they lived
there
too.

TC: “Back at the weekend, see you then” can’t wait, I have lots to tell her don’t I?

PF: “Hope you packed sensibly Tharie?” She means lingerie.

TC: “I could be a door to door salesman for Victoria Secrets!” And I can’t wait to try them all out.

I finish my texting and put my phone away.

“How long to the city?” I ask knowing full well the answer.

“About 45minutes, depending on traffic.” I shift in my seat looking at Daniel, he looks at me surprised, then at the tinted glass partition that blocks us from our driver, did he arrange for that too?  I remove my knickers from under my skirt and leave them in a heap on the floor with a showgirl flourish.  (I don't really know how showgirls flourish, but I do my best), Daniels pupils dilate surprise.  Well, I’m full of surprises.

I unclip my seatbelt, pull myself up onto my knees and kiss him tenderly on the lips, “what are you
doing
?”  A passionate longing kiss that lasts ages, does he really need to ask me that again! 

“
I
, am going to fuck
you
.” He has pulled the jersey of my top down to my waist, and his hand is working my nipple over my bra. It makes me grit my teeth.  I move to straddle his legs, kissing his smiling mouth, and undo his jeans as our car pulls out into the traffic.  I slowly slide my hands into the denim, under his pants and there I find a throbbing hard cock waiting for me, he closes his eyes and hums quietly to himself.  Working quickly I free his penis, standing tall amongst the denim I lick my lips and kiss him once again.  I grab the end of the thick shaft and press it to my cunt moaning in delight, then I move it up and down over my clit teasing and wetting myself and him.

I move onto him in desperation because I want him inside me right now, I let the first thick end push into me, opening me wide, spreading me, then slam down onto him, impaling myself.  A deep sensation of beautiful pain as he reaches the end of me, piercing me until I cry out in incredible wonderful agony.  I just want quick release, a fuck and no fuss or waiting. I lower myself onto his cock again, sliding up and down in agonising slowness, then hard again and it fills me. Satisfied I move up and down, riding the whole length of him, then I take just the tip and quickly up and down driving him insane as he has done to me.  Then without notice I plunge down hard and in a steady rhythm I can feel myself building as I lean my frame backward, higher and higher faster and faster, it’s all about me now, and what I want.

“Cum with me Daniel” I whisper in a hiss of tantalising agony, this man, look what he's done to me, I’m fucking him in the back of a car, this is definitely not my usual style, and I was really enjoying the new me. Daniel grabs my hips and thrusts himself harder into me. Bloody hell.  I'm ready, my nerves will soon explode, Daniel grabs my hair and yanks my head back, his lips and teeth are around my nipples the pain, the sweet delightful pain. I grind into him shamelessly, and we both climax together.

I feel a little dirty as I dress myself, but that’s the idea
isn’t it
?

“These feelings I’m having,” he looks confused,” I’m not used to feeling this way.”  He takes my hand, “I don’t want to mess things up between us,” he kisses my knuckles, “I don’t want to screw anything up.” He asks me tenderly “what are we doing?”  He has my face trapped between his hands looking deep into me, his
eyes trying to see something or read something. “What is this?” He looks around my face searching for the answer as if it’s written there.

“You keep asking me that” I try to speak and dress, not trying to do anything except enjoy myself.

“And?” His brows twist in question, pulling his jeans on.

“Sexual attraction?” his zips up his fly at my answer, “does that explain it for now?” He seems not totally satisfied with my response, but leaves it, so I do too.

“Yes, and I can tell that” he smiles, I giggle in response.  “We make a great team” he’s serious, and I have to agree.  And the rest of the journey we sit in silence as he strokes my hair.   The hair on my head, dear reader, you have a filthy mind! 

A little light headed feeling comes over me, I open the pony-cam app on my phone and check the boys, they’re in their stables eating hay, I suddenly get connected to reality, my head feels better instantly.

I get a familiar call on my immediate attention, not possessed with the kind of control where I can ignore it, I swipe the screen.

EC: “Tell me your phone has been switched off by accident” here we go.

TC: “Mum, I am in
Tokyo
” remember? Or did I neglect to tell her?

EC: “You don’t have to be so elaborate with your excuses for not phoning me” she’s good.

TC: “I’m working, I’ll call you later” that should do it.

EC: “Where have I heard that before…?” Wrong.

TC: “What if I told you I am actually a secret spy and can’t tell you what I’m doing at any time?” Wouldn’t that be seriously cool?

EC: “Well, that
would
explain it” she’s not wrong.

TC: “Dark glasses and a Burberry rain mac” I can see it all now, it would almost be worth applying just to get a Burberry mac.

EC: “Love you” I know.

TC: “Love you too” I really do.

I ‘humph’ loudly in exasperation, Mothers!

Note to self, call Mum.

We pull up outside the huge round tower of our base camp the brand new '
anti
-boutique'
Hotel Shelley
.   Clean, stark, minimalistic, a great airy lobby with a gleaming gloss finished optic floor, white grand piano as a centrepiece with a huge vase of white flowers sitting on it easily as tall as me.  White and grey everywhere with huge five wick Jo Malone grapefruit candles alight cleverly placed around, how did they know? Silver grey and black coy swim around a little moat and a single bright scarlet one, crossed by a clean concrete drawbridge. 

Our entrance delivered by a doorman who takes Daniels bag from him and adds my small carry-on to the cart.  We have rooms next to each other, the whole hotel is non-smoking I am happy to recall from the last time I was in Japan, all the hotels are now.  “Tea?” He asks me judging my mood and that I’m already withdrawing from lack of that lovely hot brown liquid.

“Yes, please” I’m so happy tea is firmly planned in my future, my new boss Daniel will make certain we get it.  People I have learned, tend not to say no to him. I giggle at the thought, me included.

“My room then.” He says casually as if it was a trip to the supermarket, takes my hand and we head to the lift.

Note to self, try and find a Saddlery in Tokyo, it'd be cool to buy something here for the horses.

Do they
have
horses here?

Later in chapter eight, Wednesday
:
23rdoctober2013, room service.

Our rooms are on the 72nd floor, they line the outside perimeter of the tower only, the centre is just space all the way from the elliptical domed roof light high above, to the piano way below. The eye travels along the silvery chain from the skylight all the way down to the lobby where it suspends a huge clear crystal chandelier a few feet above the vase of flowers below. Attached randomly linked into the chain are sparkly clear faceted crystals, varying sizes and shapes, the effect is really quite breath-taking.

The lift has four Japanese smart suited men in it with us bowing at each other repeatedly.  The walls are studded white leather like a Chesterfield sofa, floor to Venetian mirrored ceiling, the carpet a deep creamy white shag pile. Our bags travel in an altogether different lift on a brass framed trolley, driven by a bell boy with a fancy military inspired black and grey uniform and little white gloves.  The Japanese don’t like touching anything, it’s the germs I think, must make taking fingerprints at a crime scene quite difficult.