We chat for ten minutes until he finally suggests a drink, and I persuade him to make it dinner. I do this at my desk because Mr. Ravnikar is out somewhere. Probably with Ciara, spending mountains of cash on her.
I leave the office at four-thirty and head home, allowing myself plenty of time to get ready for dinner with Callem. I wear red as usual, because I want to signal like crazy to my date that I’m all about the sex, despite the fact that I won’t be sleeping with him tonight. Or ever, if I can help it. A tight—but classy—red dress, matte red lipstick, red patent leather shoes. Well, acrylic shoes. But they look expensive and that’s what matters.
I arrive at the hotel restaurant at eight thirty-five and find my date sitting at the table like a good little boy.
Forty minutes later, my eyes are glazing over.
“…and that’s when I passed to my man Adrian, and we won the game.” My date grins at me, waiting for my applause.
“Amazing,” I take a mouthful of white wine. Hayden? No, Callem. Callem has spent the whole evening talking about himself.
As he launches into another football story, the dreams I’ve been having lately twine through my mind. Nightmares, really, in which I’m terrified, lost and pursued. And aroused. Really aroused. I feel Damir’s strong chest pressed against my back, his thick fingers sliding delicately through my pussy. The tip of his knife drawing a line of blazing pain up my thigh. I can feel how much he delights in causing me pain, murmuring what I assume are words of love in Slovenian as his eyes burn with the desire to cut deeper. And he’s smiling. Always smiling.
I can pinpoint the exact moment I went wrong in my life. I was thirteen years old, and I was alone at home watching Predator in one of my foster homes. I forget which one. There were so many through my teenage years. While I was watching the movie, every time the Predator creature appeared, I felt all…funny. He’s a huge, heavily muscled alien and an apex-tier killer. I touched myself where I felt funny, and it was good, so I kept going, all the while thinking about the big, deadly body of the Predator and his gruesome features, sharp teeth and muscular arms. That night, I had my first orgasm. I had loads more after that, all while watching Predator. Then Alien vs. Predator and the other Alien movies. Then I moved onto slasher movies like Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Scream. The entire horror genre was my teenage porn collection. I guess I was lonely, and a bit sad and screwed up, so I didn’t question what I was doing.
Looking back, that was a mistake.
“So, your place or mine?” Callem asks me.
I pull myself out of my thoughts. “You’re saying that with a great deal of confidence.”
“Yeah, well. You used the code.”
“The what?”
“You know. Looking for a generous man. My buddy told me about it.”
I put my chin in my hand, gazing at him as if he’s the most fascinating creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. “And what was it your buddy told you?”
He blusters a little, pretending to be coy. “The sugar daddy thing. I’m a sugar daddy.”
I want to burst out laughing. Callem thinks he’s a sugar daddy. He didn’t order champagne. He didn’t offer to pay for my taxi here or my time tonight. I wasn’t presented with any jewelry and there was no discussion of an allowance before he brought up sex. I should tell him how much my boss is lavishing on his sugar baby. That would show him how far out of his league he is.
I stroke my red fingernails down the back of his hand. “I don’t need a sugar daddy, Callem,” I purr. “What I really need is to get laid. Someone to pin me down beneath them and fuck my brains out. Animalistic. Rough. Hard enough that my screams are heard in Scotland.”
Callem chokes a little, his eyes going wide. “I could do that for you.”
I look him over. At his bland good looks. His narrow, pale hands. The department store suit. The ordinariness of him.
“No. You really couldn’t.” I reach for my bag and stand up. “Sorry. It’s not you, I’m…” I wave a vague hand and trail off, because I don’t have the energy to make up some stupid excuse. This has been a total waste of time, and I feel cheap and gross on top of it.
“Wait, Bethany!” Callem stands up and tries to give chase, but a waiter homes in on in him, sensing her table is about to do a runner without paying. I hurry out to the street and blindly make a left.
I find myself walking toward the City even though it’s the opposite direction to my Tube stop. Ravnikar Enterprises rises before me, a sleek glass and steel skyscraper that I see every damn day. I feel my phone buzzing as I walk, and I ignore it, my eyes trained on Damir Ravnikar’s building.
“This has got to stop,” I whisper up at glass windows.
Tomorrow, I’ll get help. Find a therapist who can deal with all my kinks so I can get aroused by normal things. Men doing the dishes or something. I don’t know what does it for other women, but it’s probably not blood, knives, muscle and fear.
Callem calls again and again. I switch my phone to Do Not Disturb. No dumb dates with stupid men, and no more pining over Damir Ravnikar. I have more options available to me than screwy sex with my boss’s brother or a loveless, passionless existence with a rich man.
When I get inside, I remove all my makeup and take my vitamins, because that’s what a girl does when she’s trying to sort her life out. I ignore my phone and vibe and rub on some hand cream before tucking myself beneath the blankets.
I fall asleep, repeating the same mantra over and over. You’ll figure it out, bitch. Somehow.
Chapter Six
Damir