Текст книги "The Story Of Us"

Автор книги: Lesley Jones

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Then she proceeds to tell me that Rocco deliberately got them on ecstasy that day because he knew it would get them horny and off their nuts, then he convinced Whorely to get them back to their room so she could cry rape, he would be there, waiting and taking photos of it all and… it was all, to get back, at you.”

I close my eyes and swallow down the bile that keeps making its way up my throat. “The rape cry was just to get the Police involved so that Carnage would hopefully get kicked off the tour. Whorely never had any intention of going through with it so when your Dad turned up and offered her ten grand to drop the charges; she was over the fucking moon, that was just…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up, my Dad paid her ten grand?”

Lennon puts three cups of tea down on the coffee table, I lean forward and pick mine up, I know it’s going to be too hot but I need something to do while I try and absorb all of this info; Len stands in front of me with his hands on his hips and says, “Yeah, didn’t you know that?”

I shake my head. “No, I didn’t, anyway, carry on Jim.” I nod toward her to keep talking.

“Well you know the rest, Rocco sent copies of the pictures to the press and assumed that the images, along with the rape allegations would get Carnage off the tour and would split you and Sean up.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “He had half his wishes come true, the other half had the complete opposite effect, meaning Carnage are now bigger than KR and Rocco is thoroughly pissed off.”

She looks at me and shrugs, I don’t know what she expects me to say, yeah I’m well and truly pissed off that Rocco and Whorely plotted and schemed and got their wish in breaking up Sean and me, but at the end of the day, he did what he did and for me, the issue was never about the rape allegation, I knew that was a lie. I just knew, but Sean going back to the room for a threesome that was the truth, her getting naked and letting them snort blow off of her body, that was the truth and that was what I couldn’t forgive him for.

“Well, thanks for letting me know Jim, I hope if you ever come across either one of that scheming pair of cunts you will smack them right between the eyes for me but at the end of the day, he was there, he was in that room, snorting blow off her tits, just four days after declaring undying love and proposing marriage to me and there are pictures to prove it so it doesn’t change anything. Nothing will change the fact that he was in that room, with that slut, all that’s changed are the circumstances that led to it and yes I am angry that they set him up, but that just goes to show how easy it was for him to go astray, how easily he was tempted.”

I lean forward and dig into the biscuit barrel; I find a Mcvities chocolate digestive and dunk it in my tea. I actually want to curl up in a corner and rock, but I do what I have been doing for the last three years, I shut down my emotions and carry on with my numb little life.

“Do you know how much he still loves you George? He’s such a mess on the inside, he hides it well but I know, I’ve held him so many times now, when he’s had a few drinks, the conversation always ends up about you and always ends in tears.” I raise my eyebrows and look at Lennon.

“And there’s been no other women, since we broke up, there’s been no one else?”

Len pulls his head back and looks at me as if I’m mad. “I never said that G, there’s been sex, of course there’s been sex but it doesn’t mean anything, they mean nothing.”

“Well that’s where me and him differ coz those birds he fucks, mean a lot to me, they mean he’s moved on, while I can still barely leave the house. Tonight was my first girls night out in over three years, I don’t even look at other blokes, I can’t, it’s pointless, because all I ever see is him and that’s okay, it’s my issue, not his and it’s just something I’m finally learning to live with.”

Lennon lets out a long sigh. “Would you talk to him, if I could get the two of you together, would you talk to him?” I shake my head.

“Len, apart from business trips and meetings, tonight is the first time I’ve socialised in over three years, I don’t watch telly, I don’t listen to the radio, I don’t read magazines, all because, just the thought of someone mentioning his name, catching a glimpse of his face or hearing his voice is much too painful. But I’m getting better, it doesn’t hurt any less, I’m just finally getting to grips with how I handle my feelings. Tonight was really hard for me but I did it, and I want to keep going forward and if I see or hear from him, it’ll probably just set me back, so no, not yet, I’m not ready.”

I look at both of them. “I know he’ll be at the wedding next year and I’m gearing myself up for that to be the day that I am ready to see him again. I’m not promising I’ll look at him, I doubt very much I’ll talk to him but I will do my very best to be in the same room as him, because I love the two of you and I know it will make you happy.”

CHAPTER 10

Over the next few weeks I went back to the wine bar with Ashley and every time I saw tall, dark and handsome there and every time, he would smile, nod and send over a bottle of champagne, but make no effort to come and talk to me. After about three weeks, Ash finally convinced me to go out clubbing after we had drinks; my Dad had bought into a club in the West End of London so I’d got him to put us on the guest list. I had no idea what to expect but was willing to give it a go. TDH, as Ash and I had nicknamed him, had sent over his usual bottle of bubbly and when we were leaving he clamped his hand around my wrist and gently pulled me into him. “Enjoy the rest of your night Georgia.”

My head jerked back, not just because I was surprised that he knew my name, but because of the sensation that shot through me, caused by his hand on my wrist, the sound of his voice and the feel of his breath on the side of my face, neck and in my ear. I swallowed hard and looked him right in the eye, then over his face, he was bloody handsome and a lot older than me, I was about to turn twenty, he looked thirty-ish.

I don’t know where I found her, but suddenly, confident little fifteen year old George appeared. “Thank you for the champagne, but whether I enjoy the rest of my night, has absolutely fuck all to do with you, now take your hands off me and don’t touch me uninvited again… Ever!” I go to yank my wrist from his grasp when his hand clamps onto me tighter.

“Such an angry little kitten, with such sad eyes. Who hurt you Georgia? Who took the light out of those pretty blue eyes ehh?”

My first instinct is to slap him but he has a hold of my right wrist and I’ve drunk a bottle of Moet and two Southern Comfort and lemonades so I’m not sure how good my aim will be with my right.

“Let go of my wrist,” I say quietly through gritted teeth, he does exactly the opposite and pulls me in to his chest and places his hand at the small of my back, pressing me into him. Fucking hell, he’s got a hard on and its pressing right into my belly. I give out a little gasp – shit, shit, shit, he knows I can feel him.

“Next time you walk into my bar, me and you are going to find a quiet corner and sit and have a chat and you kitten are going to tell me all about the arsehole that made you so sad and so angry.”

Shit, he owns the place? Explains why he can afford to keep dishing out bottles of Moet, I bet he does it to all the birds he fancies and there was me thinking I was all it and a bit!

I keep looking into his eyes. “Well, looks like I won’t be walking into your bar again and best start looking for somewhere else to drink.”

He takes a step back and looks me up and down. “You’ll be back, if you’re not, then I’ll just have to come and find you; now do as I say, go and have some fun, I want those eyes to have some light in them next time I see you.” He turns me around, smacks my arse and sends me on my way.

For two whole weeks I avoid the wine bar, forcing Ashley to drink in the pub down the road with me instead, it’s not as nice and twice I have heard songs played in there that I think are by Carnage. I haven’t heard any of their latest stuff but I would know Sean’s voice anywhere. Both times I ducked into the toilets and waited long enough for the song to end but we never hang around there long, after the great night we had at my Dad’s new place, I’ve decided I have a few years of clubbing to catch up on and we’ve been to three other clubs since then. Ash is still as wild as she was at school and loves a few lines of coke on a night out and I must admit to having joined her every time we’ve been out lately. I just love the instant rush and the confidence it gives me; the new drug of choice on the club scene is ecstasy, but I remember Sean and Jimmie telling me it makes you horny and that’s the last thing I need to be feeling, more so than I already am lately. For the first time since I was of an age to think about boys in any kind of romantic or sexual way, my thoughts haven’t all been about Sean, he’s there, always, painfully so, but lurking in the corner now, with that smile on those soft lips and a spark in those warm brown eyes is Mr TDH. I still have no idea of his name and have no intention of going back to the wine bar to find out, not yet anyway.

It’s a Thursday night in the middle of September, my birthday is this coming Saturday and I’m going out for drinks and then on to my Dad’s club with Ash, Jimmie and a few of the other girls that work at the shop for us. I’ve been in the West End meeting with buyers all day with my Mum and have just called into the Brentwood shop to pick up my new dress I ordered in for Saturday night. Ashley and Lorna are the only two staff left as it’s just fifteen minutes till closing.

I notice Ash looks terrible. “You okay babe, you look rough as fuck.”

She takes a deep sigh, shakes her head and looks at me with a frown. “I came on this morning, my belly’s cramping like a bitch, I need to go home, get my jarmies on and curl up with my Danielle Steele book and a hot water bottle.”

Periods ergh, hate the bloody things, I suffer terribly with period pain myself and know it’s no fun being on your feet all day when it feels like your womb is being ripped out of your fanny! “Go and get your bag and go home babe, I’ll lock up.”

“Ah George, you’re a star, I’m not even gonna argue, thank you.” She really is pale.

“Go! Open up at ten tomorrow, don’t rush in, we’re never busy first thing anyway, I’ll leave a note in the window now, just to let the customers know.” Ashley comes from out the back with her latest Louis Vuitton bag on her arm.

“Ash, you’re spending more than you bloody earn on bags and shoes lately.”

“Nahh.” She smiles. “This is a fake, got it down the Roman the other week, good though ain’t it?”

“Ashley Morrison, if my Mother sees that you will be out on your arse, do not bring fake shit into our shop, if trading standards ever came in they would go through our entire stock and our reputation would be ruined.”

I don’t mean to pull rank but fuck, my mother would absolutely flip. “Shit George, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think of that.”

I shake my head at her. “Go home Ash, curl up with your book and get a lay in, in the morning and do not bring that bag back here again.”

She kisses my cheek and leaves. “Lorna, get cashed up and you can go too.”

I run up stairs to have a look at the work on my flat, everything is done except for the tiling in the kitchen and the painting. I’m just heading down the stairs when Lorna appears at the bottom.

“I called Dave to come get me early and he’s here but a customer’s just come in, dya want me to wait?”

“Na, you go, I’ll deal with them.” I make my way down the stairs as I speak.

“Okay, thanks George, don’t forget to leave the note about opening late in the window, thanks for letting me leave early, I’ll see you later.”

“Night,” I call after her. I’m so lucky with the team I have at Brentwood, we’ve had nothing but trouble with the team that run the Romford shop, but my Brentwood girls are great. We have no problems with bitching or sickness and the girls are always happy to work late or come in early if they’re needed. I head over to the handbags with a smile on my face, I can just see the top of someone’s hair as they bend down and look at something, at least it’s bags and not shoes, then I would be here all bloody night.

“Can I … What the fuck do you want?”

“Charming Kitten, is that how you approach all your customers?”

“Get out of my shop!” He completely ignores me.

“I want to buy a bag for my sister, it’s her twenty-first on Saturday, what’s the latest thing, Louis, Gucci, what are the girls into at the moment?”

What do I do, make him leave or make the sale? I could be kicking out a potential five hundred pound profit. Shit, fuck, bollocks, arseholes!

“The Louis, the one you were just looking at, it’s new in this week.”

“Then I’ll take that one, I’d also like a pair of sunglasses and a scarf, whichever you think are appropriate for a twenty one year old.”

I tilt my head sideways. “Your sister’s very lucky.” And very spoilt, I think to myself.

“She has three big brothers, I don’t know if I would call her lucky.”

“I would, I have three big brothers and I consider myself very lucky, I love them like nothing else.” Except Sean. Why did I tell him about my brother’s? Fuckeration, he needs to buy this bag and go! He looks over my face for a few seconds.

“Do you realise, how much your eyes just lit up when you spoke about your brothers?” I blush instantly. Ohhh, for God’s sake, get a grip Georgia; I shake my head and look down at the carpeted floor of the shop but rear back as I feel his knuckle brush across my cheek.

“What happened to you kitten? Why don’t you come over to the wine bar and let me buy you a drink, just a drink, nothing else, unless you want more?” I want to lean into his hand that is now cupping the side of my face, his thumb is gently brushing over my lips but I don’t, I can’t, I won’t.

“What colour scarf were you thinking of?” He smiles gently at me and sighs, puts his hands into the pockets of his light blue denim jeans and rocks back on his heels.

“You choose the colour kitten, I’m happy with whatever you choose, you must be a similar age to my sister so she will like whatever you do.” Closer in age than you could ever imagine I think to myself.

I instantly turn into my mother and become the perfect sales consult, helping him select a pair of Gucci sunglasses, a Chanel scarf and a Louis wallet to match the bag, He stands and watches me while I wrap his purchases in tissue with his hands dug deep in the pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and a tan sued bomber jacket and he smells absolutely divine, I think it’s Givenchy, my brother Bailey wears it, and there’s a hint of something softer, florally almost, like soap powder or fabric softener, who does his washing for him I wonder? “So, will you come over and have a drink with me? It’s just a drink Georgia, nothing else, we’ve drunk at the same bar lots of times, this time we’ll just be together.”

“Why do you want me to have a drink with you? Why do you always buy me champagne, do you do that for all your female customers?”

“Of course I don’t, I’d be fucking bankrupt if I bought every bird that walked through the door a bottle of Moet.”

“So why me?”

“Because I want to, you always look so sad and that first time, when I gave the bottle to your friend, the loud one, Ashley, who works here, when you were drinking it, you smiled at me, then you laughed and spilt your drink on your chin and for a split second, you looked happy and I just wanted to see that spark in your eye again.”

I don’t want him to know it was him that I was thinking about that night, that I smiled because I was thinking about how good looking I thought he was, and Jimmie read my mind and stated my exact thoughts out loud, I don’t want to hear this, I don’t want him to be nice, I don’t want him to care, I want him to be a complete arsehole but he’s not, not at all.

“Why do you care whether I’m happy or sad, what difference does it make to you?”

“Because I own the bar and I like my patrons to be happy, now are you gonna come for a fucking drink with me or not?” He sounds harsh but the look on his face is anything but, he raises his eyebrows and leans away from the till point where I’m wrapping his purchases.

“Come on, you know you wanna.” I do, I really do, dare I?

“One drink Georgia, one drink and lots of talk.” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Or no talking, one drink and no talking, if that’s what you’d prefer.” He’s so nice and so fucking sexy; I swore I wouldn’t get involved with someone that stirred those old but familiar sensations inside me. I had enjoyed a few snogs lately with completely random blokes, I’d even let one of them touch my tits as we kissed waiting for my taxi to arrive, Rick or Nick I think his name was, but I felt nothing, it stirred nothing but just standing here, in a shop, with a counter between us, was doing things to my insides and I really wasn’t sure what to do about it, but for some reason, my big fat gob went into action before it engaged my brain.

“One drink, I have my car out the back, but I’ll need to drive it around, I’m not walking back here later on my own.”

He has the biggest smile on his face; it makes him look so much younger… Aaaaand off goes my mouth again. “How old are you?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Where are your keys Georgia, I’ll pull your car around the front while you lock up.”

I fold my arms across my chest as I look him up and down, knowing full well I’m not going to get an answer. Shaking my head, I bend down under the counter and get my keys out of my bag and throw them to him, wait till he sees what he’ll be driving, I nod towards the back of the shop. “Through there, turn left onto the back ally, it’s one way.”

I follow him to the back doors. Hilda, my burnt orange and black Triumph Herald is parked right outside, I watch him as he swings the keys around his fingers, stops dead in his tracks and shakes his head. This is obviously a habit of his, I expect him to turn around and say something to me, but he keeps walking towards my car. I lock the back door behind him, set the alarms and head out the front of the shop, where he’s already waiting at the curb, looking like a giant as he leans against my little car with his long legs crossed in front of him, his hands once again in his pockets. As I walk toward him, it suddenly occurs to me that I don’t even know his name, well he hasn’t offered and I’m not going to make him think I’m interested by asking. He silently opens the passenger door, lets me in, and then closes it behind me. My car now smells of a mixture of me and of him and I don’t like it, it unnerves me for some reason.

We drive in silence for the two or three minutes it takes to get to the wine bar, he parks next to a Mercedes Sports car in a spot marked reserved and is out and around at my door before I’ve even got my seatbelt off. He pulls my door open and holds out his hand to help me out, I ignore it and climb out unaided, holding my hands out for the keys as I do, I lock my car and he takes my hand in his as we walk into the bar. Once again it’s pretty busy for a Thursday night; we walk over to the bar, where one of the bar staff immediately comes over to him, he hands over his bags containing the gifts for his sister and asks the barman who he calls Steve, to go and put them in his office and to make sure it’s locked up. He then goes around the bar and proceeds to pour himself a Jack Daniels over ice and without even asking, makes me a Southern Comfort and lemonade, I want to tell him I want a vodka, just to be awkward but I manage to stay quiet.

He comes around the bar with our drinks, talking to one of the bar staff and saying hello to customers as he does, he nods to an empty spot over in the corner and I follow him. We sit ourselves on the stools that face the ledge around the wall and once I’m settled he turns my stool so that I’m facing him and pulls it closer, so close that my knees are touching his stool, in between his legs, which are open and straddling mine, he looks at me, as though he’s daring me to object, so I say nothing.

Steve appears with the keys to the office and a pile of papers. “You have a pile of messages Cam, most of them from Tamara but there are a couple that are business and one from Tory”

He takes them from him, puts the keys in his pocket and looks through his messages, shakes his head and shoves them all in his pocket. “Sorry about that.”

I shrug. “Not a problem, business is business.”

“Sure is,” he says with a smile.

He swirls his drink over the ice in his glass and says, “Well Georgia, you dragged me here, are you going to talk to me or what?”

I smile inwardly at his cheek but again say anything; I don’t want him to know I’m amused. “What would you like to know, Cam?”

He raises his eyebrows, obviously surprised that I know his name. “I’d like to know about you Georgia. Where were you born? Where did you grow up? How long have you been manager of the shop over the road?”

I correct him. “I’m not the manager of the shop over the road.”

“Oh sorry, I just thought the way you spoke to the girls, you were their boss.”

“I am.” I reply. “I own the business that owns the shop, over the road.”

He leans back on his stool, studies me for a moment and then knocks back all of his drink and puts it down a little too hard on the ledge. What’s his problem I wonder?

“I thought Frankie Layton’s Misses owned that place.” How does he know that?

“She does, I’m her business partner.” His frown disappears. What! Did he seriously think that I was married to Frank, to my Dad? “And I’m her daughter.”

His mouth actually drops open, oh fuck, this news does not please him. “You’re Frank’s daughter?”

“I am.” He sighs deeply and runs his big hands through his hair.

“Oh fuck,” he almost whispers as he once again shakes his head.

“Is that a problem?”

“Drink your drink Georgia, I have work to do.” He pulls the bits of paper out of his pocket and starts looking through them again, totally ignoring me.

Instant rage takes over; I stand from my stool and throw my drink in his face. “Fuck you!” I say, turn and walk out of the bar.

I don’t know what happens to me that night, I lost my grip on my own self-worth, I assumed. Cam didn’t want to know because of some piece of gossip he’d read in a Sunday tabloid, regarding me and Sean. There’d been a few spiteful stories about underage sex, drink and drugs, all involving me, once again. Sean and that band had interfered with my life and I was so sick of it. I went out on Saturday night and celebrated my birthday by snorting a couple of lines of coke, popping one ecstasy tablet and going back to the flat of a bloke named Tom in Lewisham and fucking his brains out, it was awful but he loved it. When the cab pulled up outside at ten on that Sunday morning, he was begging me to stay and he was begging for my number, so I gave it to him, I saw him five times over the next two weeks and on the fifth date, he told me he loved me, so I ended it. I absolutely loved the power I felt, so much so that for the next six months, this behaviour became a habit; I would be off my face Thursday till Sunday, meet a bloke, spend a couple of weeks giving them the best sex they’d ever had, doing everything I possibly could to get them to say those three little words and as soon as they did, bang, I dropped them like a sack of shit. The other thing I liked to do was to take my dates to Kings, the wine bar Cam owned, I always waited until I knew for sure that I had them by the balls, that way they would always be all over me and I always made sure that I sat or stood right in full view of Cam.

I had only met this bloke Lee, the Saturday before but he was already making me feel sick with the way he kept telling me how beautiful I was. I must’ve been getting better at this gig; he was the third bloke I’d bought into Kings in three weeks.

Cam was always polite to me, always said hello and always asked how I was, my response was always the same. “Fuck you!”

But it didn’t put him off; week after week he would watch me walk in with my latest conquest with a certain kind of sadness in his eyes. I stood at the bar with Lee waiting to be served, when I noticed Cam come out of his office, he saw me straight away and walked toward me. “Georgia, how are ya?”

I turned away but Lee had heard him, he looked from me to Cam and said, “Fuck off mate, she’s with me.”

Cam totally ignored him. “Georgia, how are ya?” he repeated.

Lee had just been served and had our drinks in his hands, he put them down on the bar, turned to Cam and said, “Look mate, do yourself a favour, this one’s taken, she’s with me so fuck off.”

I know it was a horrible thing to do but at this stage of my life I was a horrible person so I looked at Lee, then turned to Cam and wrapped my arms around his neck and said, “I’m good Cam, how are you babe?”

Lee pulled me back by my shoulder so hard, that I spun around and was facing the bar, I didn’t really see what happened next, I assume one of them threw a punch. I heard glass breaking and people seemed to move in all directions, I turned back to see two of the bouncers grab Lee by his arms and start walking him toward the door.

“Georgia!” he called out to me.

“Fuck off Lee, we’re done.” I called back. Next thing I knew, Cam had a hold of my hand and was pulling me toward his office. I tried to dig my heels in and stiffen my legs but he was too strong, so I tried to yank my hand from his grip.

“Get off me!” I screamed but he just gripped tighter and pulled me harder, almost throwing me inside his office.

He slammed the door and locked it behind us. “What the fuck are doing? You fucking idiot.”

He actually scares me when I look at him, he looks so fucking angry; he stalks over to the his desk and pours almost half a tumbler of JD from a bottle, he stands still for a few seconds, breathing heavily, his eyes narrowed and fixed on me, he puts the glass to his lips and drinks the whole lot. Shit I think, that’s got to burn. “What I’m doing Georgia, is trying to keep both you and me the fuck out of trouble.”

“Well thanks and all that but I can look after myself.” He lets out a little laugh and does his usual head shake.

“Why, tell me why kitten, every other week, you waltz in here with a different little play thing in tow, licking your boots and panting all around you. Why, why do you do it? Are you trying to piss me off, or are you trying to prove something to yourself?”

“Like I told you before, what I do has fuck all to do with you and why would me coming in here with a bloke piss you off anyway? You don’t give a shit, you made that clear the night you dragged me over here for a drink with you, then totally ignored me when you found out who I was so don’t fucking start with me about trying to piss you off.”

I keep my back to the door of the office but reach behind me and turn the handle, it’s locked and he must have the key, I lose my temper completely, grab the handle with both hands, turn it, pull it and kick the door.

“Open the fucking door!” I scream. I feel his hand on my shoulder; he pulls me around and kisses me hard on the mouth. I grab his hair and pull it as hard as I can, despite the force of his kiss. His lips are soft and warm, he tastes of whiskey or bourbon or whatever the shit is that he drinks and he smells delicious; I’ve had months of mindless, faceless sex and not one single orgasm but right now, I feel like I could come at any minute, just from his kiss. I bite down gently on his bottom lip and he moans into my mouth and my legs almost give way; his big hands run down either side of my body, his thumbs brush over my boobs as he drags them down from my armpits to my waist, he splays them over my hips, then over my arse cheeks as he pulls me into him and grinds.

“Fuck,” he moans into my mouth. I’ve been at a business lunch with my Mum today and am still wearing my work clothes, a Chanel skirt and jacket with a shell blouse underneath but it’s what I have on under my skirt that has got his attention now; his fingers are stroking the outside of my thigh, reaching under the hem of my skirt and I’m just waiting for it, in three, two, one.

“Fuckin hell kitten, you’re wearing stockings?”

I smile at myself, what is it with men and stockings? “I sure am Tiger, what of it?”

He bends his knees so we are eye to eye, even in my heels; he’s a good few inches taller than me. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Pull your skirt up and show me your stockings.”

“Fuck off.”

“Don’t swear Kitten, it’s not nice, now pull up your skirt and show me what you’re wearing.”

“Fuck nice and no.”

“Did you wear them for him?”

“Who?”

“That fucking idiot you walked in here with.”

“Stop swearing Tiger, it’s not nice and it’s none of your fucking business.”

He pulls me with him while he walks backwards and rests his butt on the edge of his desk, holding me at arm’s length; he slides my skirt up my thighs to my hips, then seems to change his mind and pulls it back down again. My belly drops to the floor as that horrible, horrible feeling of rejection hits me and for the first time in almost four years, I think I might cry. He takes a step toward me, reaches for my hip, undoes the button and slides down the zip, because the skirt’s fully lined and a little lose, thanks to the amount of cocaine I’ve been shoving up my nose every weekend for the past six months. My skirt slides silently to the floor and from somewhere, confident George appears. I step out of my skirt and away from him, shrug out of my jacket, pull my blouse over my head and stand in front of him in my pale pink La Perla lingerie. I put my hands on my hips, open my legs and look him square in the eye, his gaze doesn’t meet mine, his eyes are looking over my body, and I feel a little self-conscious. I know I’m a little too skinny, too many drugs, too much gym, too much misery doesn’t set you in good stead for a great appetite but judging by the tepee that’s forming in his trousers, he likes what he sees. His hands are gripping either side of the huge oak desk and his knuckles are white, his eyes rest on my tits, which finally seem to have decided to stop growing, I’m five feet eight and only just filling out size eight clothes right now but I still need an E cup bra to fit my tits, making dresses an almost impossible wardrobe choice for me. Luckily working in the business, I just get things either tailor made or altered.