She pulls slightly away from me. We stand facing each other. ‘When are you coming back?’
‘I don’t know yet. I just know that I need to be with my mom right now. She went to the police station last night and they didn’t give her much hope so I pray that Zane finds her.’
‘I’m not going to have Zane as my client anymore. You were right when you said I shouldn’t keep massaging him. The sooner I cut him off and start to heal, the better for me.’
I smile at her. ‘That’s very brave of you.’
‘It’s not easy. I’m so jealous of you, Dahlia. Why couldn’t he have wanted me?’
‘Come here,’ I say, and taking her hand, pull her towards my bed. We sit next to each other. ‘I want to tell you something.’
‘What?’ she asks, a note of caution in her voice.
‘Zane doesn’t want me to be his mistress. He wants me to be his … sexual slave.’
Her eyes widen. ‘What does that mean?’
‘During that one month I have to do anything he wants sexually.’
‘What does anything mean?’ she whispers making air quotes around the word anything. ‘Is he allowed to hurt you?’
‘He says if it appears I’m not enjoying something he won’t do it.’
Stella turns beetroot red. She looks at me wishfully. ‘If you thought telling me this was going to make me less jealous of you, you have no idea about me. I am even more jealous.’
My mouth drops open. ‘What?’
‘Just think. It is the ultimate sexual fantasy for every strong woman. To be forced to submit to a big and powerful man. To be completely at his mercy.’ She fans herself with her hand. ‘Oh god! It makes me hot and bothered just thinking about it.’
I stare at her. ‘Really?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Don’t you want to be an equal partner in a relationship?’
‘Pfftt … equal in bed? God, no. Where’s the fun in that? I love a man who lets his animal instincts take over. Who just wants to fuck hard. I want someone hot to look me in the eyes and tell me “Turn over you fucking slut. Get on your fucking hands and knees and put your ass up.” Yup, that’s my kind of man.’
Slightly shocked, I giggle. ‘OMG! I can’t believe that’s what you like!’
‘That’s me. A total slut,’ Stella says airily.
‘Oh, Stella. I’m going to miss you so much.’
‘I’ll miss you more, because you’ll be off doing different things and I’ll have to come back to this empty flat. I’m warning you now that I’ll be using your perfume and your black dress while you are gone.’
I hug her. ‘You have my permission to blast yourself with my perfume and wear any of my clothes.’
She grins. ‘This might work out all right, after all.’
I laugh. ‘You know I was so sad last night when I thought I’d hurt you and you were mad at me.’
‘You did hurt me and I was mad at you, but it’s OK now. It was my fault. I was being silly; carrying a candle for him all this time when I could clearly see that I was nothing to him. Besides, you thought you were protecting me. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.’
‘No,’ I say sincerely, ‘I wouldn’t willingly hurt you for the world.’
‘Yeah. I know that. I was just jealous. I still am actually.’
‘Are you going to be OK?’
‘Of course. I just have to accept that he doesn’t want me. Maybe it’s all for the best. I should move on.’ She smiles. ‘Yes, I’ll get over it. This is good for me. One day I’ll look back and be glad this happened.’
Stella offers to cancel two of her appointments and come with me to the airport, but I refuse.
‘Saying goodbye to me here will be exactly the same as at Heathrow. Anyway I will be back soon.’
So we say our goodbyes on the street. I turn around to watch her as the taxi moves on. She looks alone and miserable. When the taxi turns the corner I look out of the window blankly. It is a typical gray English afternoon and even though Stella and I complain about it all the time, I feel really sad to leave it. It is hard to sit still in the taxi. My mind is so full of unfamiliar images and thoughts.
It is easier at the airport when I am caught in the procedure of taking a flight, but once I am seated in the plane the anxiety starts again. I don’t sleep during the entire flight. The woman next to me snores like a hog so I put in my earplugs, close my eyes, and think of Daisy. I remember back to our childhood days when she used to beg me to make daisy necklaces for her. They were so precious to her she would wear them even when they were shriveled, brown and ugly.