Primal Scream (Box Set #1, Taboo Sex + AFF) (27 page)

4pm

Drea stepped into VivaCity.
VivaCity was a huge sprawling mall. She’d been one of the first visitors to the newly-opened cinema, back in August 2008, before she left for Australia.

She felt the cold blast from the sterile air conditioning on her bare arms and thighs, as she ambled down the center of the shopping complex’s ground floor. The scene was a swirl of candy bright lights—the Victoria’s Secret fuchsia signboard, signboards which lured one to purchase “confidence,” or “sexual appeal,” or whatever it was that was being advertised—the fluorescent lights in each store, contrasting with the shiny, black-tiled walls and eye-catching speckled marble tiles on the ground.

One could lick the floor—the tiles were spotless, clean like the fake air she was breathing in, like the atoms and cells in her that were decaying in stale neglect.

“
Miss…what brand of facial wash do you use?” a cool, level voice asked, breaking through the little bubble Drea was encapsulated in. She heard the words in drifts and drabs—“Miss” and “facial” were the only ones she heard clearly.

Miss Facial…

A young man had appeared, and was standing next to her, quite near to her. He had entered her personal space without even trying. Drea’s mind and spirit were so dead and desensitized, that her entire being engaged the well-groomed, pleasant, and easy-to-look-at figure before her. He was a hint of a breath of fresh air/oxygen—and she was happy to take it, even if it lasted for just a second.

It didn’t matter that he was a salesman. Anyone with half a brain knew that a salesperson had to be slick to be able to do their job well. But Drea was starved for some attention and open interaction. She saw the figure as a good-looking young, suave, and confident man first and foremost, and as a salesperson, a faraway second.

Drea paused, bringing a hand up as she thought about it, entering into the zone of reality, out of the lifeless, rewardless fantasy she was imprisoned in. “Neutrogena…On-The-Spot…Acne Treatment?” It’d stopped working in Adelaide, though it had worked fine when Drea was in Singapore. It’d stopped working like her brain had stopped working, ever since she’d fallen for Jack.

The side of her face—with the streak of acne marks—was already covered by some strands of her hair. It had probably gotten worse, over the past couple of days or so. She hated how self-conscious the vulgar little red marks made her feel. She thought they were relatively hidden from view, but apparently, they were not.

“
Let me show you something…that you can use to stop the acne problem from getting worse. It’s important to take care of your skin now, to prevent long-term damage and scarring.”

He moved towards the kiosk, luring Drea in with his words.
He’s right,
she thought.
Ugly long-term grotesque scars—ugh—no no no no no.

There was an ephemeral moment of pure non-sexualness between Drea and Nir, the suave skincare sales personnel. In the first 10 seconds of their acquaintance, Nir Balsar had sized her up as a potential customer, a shy, slim but nicely curvy Asian local who dressed well and looked like she had some money to spend on her looks. Drea, in her wide-eyed, naïve, uncorrupted girlish innocence, saw him as a pleasant sales associate who might be able to genuinely help her out with her present acne woes.

In the grander scheme of things, Nir had no qualms using personal charm and sex appeal to seal the business transaction. It was the art of the deal. Everyone had to make a living somehow. His earnings were completely based on commission too—there was no base salary to fall back on. He had learned how to master the fine art of body language to make the sale. His customers were hardly aware of the hypnotic seduction going on.

Drea saw that the slim man had a gorgeous smile, and light hazel green eyes. He had nice bedroom eyes that could wake the dead.

“
Do you know about the Dead Sea?” Nir asked, as he took Drea’s hand. He asked her to take a seat on a high stool beside the counter.

“
Yeah, I know about the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Drea replied. History had always been one of her favorite subjects.

He’s got to be an amorous French guy,
she thought to herself, when Nir lightly but surely held her left hand, as he applied a dark-hued clay mask thing on a portion of her hand. He spoke with an interesting, lyrical accent, which she couldn’t really identify. She was enjoying the skin contact between them tremendously, because it was something she obsessed much about but got very little of. She kept a straight face though, keeping a cool and relatively blasé exterior. Her Virgo Sun was adept at that.

“
Indeed,” Nir replied in a soothingly smooth voice. “Israel’s famous Dead Sea is the lowest and saltiest spot on earth. Dead Sea salt is mineral-rich…very effective and won’t irritate sensitive skin.”

Sensitive,
Drea thought, stopping herself from rolling her eyes. She’d always thought that her sensitive skin was a result of her inner sensitive nature. It frequently seemed to be more trouble than it was worth.

Nir washed the clay mask off after a few seconds—there was a small silver basin tap at the kiosk, along with a compact electric fan, which he used to dry the water off Drea’s smooth hand.

“
How does that feel?” he asked, holding her hand, and stroking it with his other hand. Drea looked down at her white, slender hand. She’d always received compliments on how beautiful her hands were. She just kept them well-moisturized, clean, and her naturally pink, shiny, healthy fingernails well-groomed.

She felt his palm going over the surface of her skin, as he quietly admired the shape and structure of her hand.

She knew he was asking about how her hand felt from the effects of the clay mask, not his touch. Was this standard procedure of a business transaction, with him?

“
It feels…hydrated,” Drea said. The product did work nicely.
Great!
She’d buy it, since he had been such pleasant company.
What’s his name? How much does this thing cost?

He reached for a small white square box on the counter. Drea had a look at the tiny price tag, and balked. She wasn’t exactly the type to spend $130 on a bottle of “miracle cream,” never mind how well it worked, or in what currency it was. She estimated that 130 Singapore Dollars was approximately equal to 100 Australian Dollars. She could spend that money on other things.

Nir read the expression in her eyes and face.
OMFG, bye,
her expression said. She was going to fly off like a little bird. He had to act now, fast—but non-abrasively. \

He thought she seemed like a delicate customer with good taste and high standards, someone he still might be able to successfully persuade. Her problem was with the pricing. She either didn’t have the money, or wasn’t used to spending that amount on herself. He made an accurate guess that it was the latter.

He was very swift, but in a very low-key, understated way. He was the smoothest person she’d ever met, conversationally and kinesthetically.

He placed a hand on her shoulder…her $42 TopShop chic striped black white top, which was made of a very thin and slightly crumply material…so she basically was feeling the full warmth of his relaxing, sensuous touches.

“
I can see your hesitation—is it the price/budget?”

“
Mainly the price…” Drea replied, ever aware of his comforting hand still on her shoulder.

Nir said something about how he sometimes gave discounts to younger customers, since the older ones “could afford it,” and added that he wasn’t selling her things she didn’t need—like anti-aging creams—just showing her products that were suitable treatments for her skin type. She listened to everything he had to say, but her attention shifted to his roaming hand—he’d begun lightly stroking her shoulder, and was slowly making his way down her lower back.

They were in very close physical proximity. Nir caught a whiff of her natural body scent. He enjoyed and liked her smell. He couldn’t stand it when girls wore too much perfume. The all natural scent of a woman could drive him wild.

Then he said, “Let me see what I can do about the price, because I’m the manager…”

His roguish smile set Drea’s heart alight.

OMG, he’s so hot,
her brain registered
. Melt. Okay.
Just breathe.

His light blue shirt was open at the collar, down to just above his mid-chest. She could see a bit of his chest hair. It was the first time she found it attractive on a guy. She’d previously always liked hairless chests on guys. Jack had a hairless chest. But this guy was irresistible too.

Nir muttered something about “cleansing, toning, and moisturizing,” as he showed her the more economically-priced basic range.

“
Part of a basic skincare regimen,” Drea replied with a slightly sardonic grin. She’d read it a billion times in magazine articles everywhere.

Nir smiled, giving her a slight bow, pleased at her attentiveness. He had a knockout smile—Drea consciously steadied herself on the seat she was on, to literally make sure she’d maintain her balance.

Drea casually mentioned that the products she used in Singapore didn’t work exactly the same way, over in Adelaide. Nir said she wouldn’t have to worry about that with the Dead Sea Salt items, as they were “natural based skin care products.”

He was enjoying interacting with Drea, a fresh-faced, seemingly down to earth, and naturally good-looking customer. There were pretty girls everywhere, but a lot of them were very vain too, and had a hard time taking their eyes off themselves in mirrored or dark-surfaced reflections. He worked long hours every day—he liked meeting a nice customer, once in a while, who actually listened to what he had to say. Drea was polite and patient, with an agreeable nature.

The maximum amount of time he’d spend with a customer at the booth would be half an hour—anything more would be way too long, for a business transaction. Ten minutes had already passed. Nir estimated it’d be 4.30pm on his wristwatch in no time. He’d get Drea to buy something, by the end of the half hour, but he was going to make the most of the remaining amount of time too. She had a sweet body. He liked feeling it. She didn’t seem to resist, either.

“
I’ll give you these for free,” he said to Drea, signaling towards the cleanser and toner. They were $35 each.

“
Really?” she replied coyly.

He took her hand again, applying a thin layer of moisturizing cream beside the spot he’d placed the hydrating mask on, earlier. He started stroking her hand again. He loved how soft and smooth and fair her hand was. Drea looked up and around them for a moment—the brightly-lit kiosk was in full view of the visitors to the shopping mall. The shopping malls in Singapore were usually always crowded, though it was still another hour or so before the rush hour crowd.

A middle-aged male employee was standing at the front of the Lee Hwa Jewellery Store, on the right side of the mall, behind her. The employee looked away when Drea turned her head in his direction. Was he watching her, and the skincare manager, whose name she still didn’t know?

Drea turned back to face Nir, nonchalant. Why’d she have to care about anyone else who might be looking at them? She was enjoying interacting with him—hell, she’d pay him just to have more of his light but very engaging caresses.

“
How old are you?” Nir asked her. “Very young…” he added, before she could answer, as he lightly massaged the moisturizer into her delicate skin.

He was several inches taller than Drea. He was shorter than six-footer Jack, but easier for Drea to lean in and kiss, if they were standing in an embrace.

“
Twenty-four,” Drea said. “Er, I mean, twenty-three—I’ll be twenty-four later this year.”

“
Oh, really!” His eyes widened slightly in surprise. He thought she was twenty-one, tops, from the looks of her perky butt and schoolgirl thighs. “When’s your birthday?”

“
September,” Drea replied.

Very likely a Virgo,
Nir thought. He had a Virgo Moon himself. No wonder they seemed to be getting along just fine.

Drea would later find out that Nir was a suave Libra Sun and Venus Scorpio combo—same as Jack.

“
I use these products myself,” Nir told Drea, glancing at the products lined up on the counter. “Look at my skin…guess my age.”

Drea did as she was told. She took a good look at his poreless, ultra clear face, with a light 5 o’clock shadow. She gazed at his skin, really trying hard to make a good guess. She considered a lot of other factors, not just his skin—he seemed so sure of himself, savvy, mature, a manager—he must be at least thirty. Youthful, handsome, older and more experienced than her.