I Am Chameleon : A Dark Romance Novel, page 18
Minty Madness is the best tool in the arsenal for a sadist or masochist. The tingling and heat gradually increases over a thirty minute period. Enjoy the burn …
I throw the bottle in anger when I realise that I’m the only one in the middle of this horrible torture.
“I’m gonna fucking throttle Dianne!”
After forty-five minutes of drastic soaking, icing, and tending to my minty-fresh member, I storm into the meeting room. Still pissed at myself for not reading the damn lube label. First, I see Jack sitting as usual at the head of the table and Dianne to his left.
I take the half-empty bottle of lube and throw it onto the oval wood table. It slides until Jack catches it, just before it falls onto the floor. He lifts and reads the label, his eyebrows raising with each word. I look at Dianne and see the smirk she isn’t even trying to disguise. What a bitch! It doesn’t matter how awesome she is, this prank is just fucking mean and bang oot a order.
As if it’s a reminder, my dick gives another sharp tingle and I grab my bulge hoping it will help. The action send’s Dianne into fits of laughter. Her outburst causes Jack to look up and see why she's laughing. There is no hiding the moment it clicks for him as his laughter roars from so deep inside I think he might be sick. It’s great to see him laugh but not at my fucking expense.
“Don’t fucking put this in any of the rooms, I feel like I’ve fucked a Smint rather than pam and her five friends.” The laughter is taken up a notch, making my rage rise too. The longer I look at these happy bastards enjoying my misery, the pissier I get. “Is there anything important we need to discuss in this meeting or can I fuck off and go back to icing my dick?” This time I’m met with cackles and Jack's hand hitting the table when he can’t get any words out. All he can do is wave, telling me to skedaddle.
I turn back to head out the door, but before I leave I decide to give these fuckers a parting gift. As if loading the gun, my legs cocks up, aiming my arse in their direction while letting rip a humongous fart that silences the laughter.
Smugly, I shout over my shoulder, “That’s right, smell my fart particles!” And on that note, I leave, closing the door behind me.
I smile at the abusive tirade being slung my way.
Was that a bit childish Spencer? Yes. Was it worth it? Hell yes!
With closed eyes, I lean against the door and think of my plans for the evening. My hand instinctively makes its way to my joggers as I send healing prayers to my dick, promising to never use him again in vain. Well, for at least forty-eight hours. I give the General a pat of good faith, when I decide a drink might be in order. It may be just the thing to take the edge off this feeling.
Out of nowhere, I feel a hand touch my chest, causing my body to tense and my eyes fly open. Bright red talons that barely pass for nails scratching across my pecks like I’m a fucking cat. If the horrible nails weren’t a giveaway then the pale as snow skin would have been. This isn’t Zoey. Without thinking, I raise my hands above my head as if I’m in the middle of a raid and refuse to get shot for not listening. I stare down and see that the hand belongs to one of the newer girls… Senga, I think her name is. Or is it Senita? Doesn’t matter either way.
“Can you remove yer mitts fae ma chest please?” I ask sternly.
I frantically check to see if anyone is coming—anyone likely to be a witness—for when Zoey puts me on trial.
“I’m Athena, and I'm new here. The lassies told me that you are usually the ‘Welcome party’ and that you’ll show me how great it is to work here. But I haven't seen you since I started.” She pouts, looking more like a blowfish than anything else.
My reputation strikes again.
“Listen, whoever the fuck you are, I’m off the market and if you know anything about self preservation, you’ll get your paws aff me before Phoenix sees you.” I protest when she doesn’t remove her hand, but the sneer on her face tells me she isn’t going to take my warning.
“Phoenix? I’m not scared of her. When I see something I want, I take it,” she purrs with confidence.
Jesus suffering! That's what they’ll put on your headstone hen!
“If you’re not scared of her, I guarantee you fucking should be. Go ask Diamond how well she fared when she took on Phoenix. I don’t even know if she can sit down yet!” I shout a little louder, panic clear in my voice.
I don’t want to be on the end of that paddle! My hands raise even higher, knowing just how stupid I look, but zero fucks are given. I look to the ceiling and sigh in relief when I see the red glow flashing from our security feed. Perfect, some viable proof that I’m not a willing participant.
“Put your hands down Seth. You look like you’re being held hostage,” the new girl says, clearly irritated.
“Nope! No way Jose,” I shake my head vehemently, while pushing my body further into the door. I even give it a swift back kick hoping Jack or Dianne will come to see what's going on. “When this video is shown at your murder trial, I want exhibit A to show that I didn’t lay a finger on you,” I say directly at the camera lens. My words finally penetrate her dim head, because she blanches and pulls her hand back like she’s been burnt. “Put out the word to the rest a yer mob. I’m off the market and not interested in any of you. I only want Phoenix. If the lassies want a warning - ask Diamond to bend over. That’ll be all the warning you need.”
She stands there staring at me like I'm full of crap and this is a silly game.
Fine, have it your way, I shrug and draw my attention to the hallway behind her. My eyes widen and my hands jerk higher, nearly touching the ceiling.
“Phoenix I can explain!” I say, causing ‘whats her face’ to turn around quickly.
I take the opportunity to slip away, and smirk as she realises I’ve tricked her.
“Aye very good. You're not scared of Phoenix my arse. Go get ready for work and leave me the fuck alone,” I growl.
When she scurries away I chuckle a little in relief.
Shitebag. Don’t get it twisted - both of us are shitebags! Now where’s my drink.
Chapter Twenty Nine
Grrrrrrr.” I grunt for what feels like the hundredth time this afternoon. The lack of sweat and muscle fatigue tells me that I am, of course, full of shite and have barely done anything.
Finally I drag the last piece of furniture from my bedroom, and look at the heap of crap I’ve piled up. Now to get all this out the back and have Glasgow City Council do a special uplift of the unwanted goods.
I marvel at how plain the space is without any furniture. It’s a small room in general. I never needed anything special, just a bachelor pad. A place to get my dick wet. Which was perfect for the time. Now this room is in the past and I’ll be damned if any of the women around Chameleon can rub Zoey’s nose in the fact that I’ve fucked them on all the furniture. Especially now that there is no furniture. Checkmate bitches.
Hell, I'm not even sure if I'm going to keep the room. This space represents a guy that faked being happy, was always horny, but mostly alone. Too scared to admit that his home was too big for him and his demons. Only now—with Zoey back, sorta—I keep imagining the pair of us at my home. Soon to be our home if she’ll give me a chance. Some would say that’s premature, but I see it as long overdue. Footsteps echoing on the tiles have me turning to see Andy survey my impulsive spring clean.
“Awrite mate?” Andy bellows.
For a big growly bear, he’s the happiest guy I’ve met. At times that positivity made me wanna stick the nut in em, but then I realised it’s not his fault my life was empty. Once I got over his cheery, joker persona, I realised that he’s actually sound as fuck.
“Happenin Andy?” I say, while shooting out for a fist pump. “Perfect timing, big man. You can help me cart this stuff out back.”
“Not really perfect timing. Craig’s been watching you for the last thirty minutes. He finally said I could come give you a hand now that you have the majority out,” he chuckles.
What a dobber! I’ll get him back one day, even If I need to take a jobbie in his kettle or something. I shake my head as my smile betrays me.
“Well, fuck that big green bastard! Let's get this done.” I nod towards the pile.
“Green bastard?” Andy asks, confused. “I don't hink Craig’s intae fitbaw. Rugby maybe, but not fitbaw.”
God gee me strength. I pinch the bridge of my nose, annoyed. “He doesn’t like footie. The lassies call him The Hulk, so I was calling him green because of that.” Andy glares at me, looking glaickit. “The jokes no fucking funny if I need to explain it,” I whine, getting crabbit. “Just grab the mattress and drag it out the back.”
Rather than do as told, Andy just stares at me.
“I’m no yer maid. If you hink I’m gonne dae that maself yer up a gum tree,” he fires back. He crosses his arms over his broad chest to make him seem more intimidating.
Upon reflection this might not be the bear I want to poke. So I aim for nonchalance.
“Shut yer geggy!”
We burst into fits of laughter. It doesn’t get more childish than that phrase.
“Right, let's grab the mattress together and get the rest outta here, too. I need to head upstairs and get a radio.”
“You can huv mine,” he offers, reaching into his black cargo pants and handing a radio over. “After I help you here, I’m on the doors with Willie or Dean. I canne mind which one.”
“Cheers dude.” I gratefully accept the radio and make sure it's on before clipping it to my jeans pocket. “You seen Jack this morning?” I ask, while we shift the furniture..
“Naw, but Craigy said he’s got meetings all morning and a dude in a suit’s no long went up with his briefcase.”
Probably the booze supplier. Or maybe lube? A sharp pain shoots in my dick when I remember how bad the last lube sample went. That’s a memory I wish I had Will’s flashy thing from MIB to erase.
I shake off the phantom burn, and silently apologise to the General. We make light work of the clutter, filling the time with small talk. To be honest, all I can think about is Zoey’s face when she sees that I’ve moved out of this room, and knows it’s all because of her. Just thinking about her makes me smile. Wow. Too bad my bliss is short lived when I remember she’s scared of being hurt. If she decides after all this, that she can’t give us a true chance. It’ll wreck me.
Zoey has the power to burn us both to the ground. I just hope we can rise together.
I’m lost in my thoughts when Jack’s voice comes over the radio, but something’s off. I can hear the panic in his voice as he asks someone if Megan has left the building, or if the person from his last appointment has left. I’m rushing for the stairs when I hear him swear and the radio cut out.
Yeah, this isn’t good.
This isn’t good at all.
Chapter Thirty
The satin bench under my bare ass runs along the back of the change room. Behind it, built into the wall, are luxurious lockers, personal to each of the girls. The door to mine is open at my back, packed full of costumes regularly requested by my clients.
As I zip up my red latex boots, an anxious feeling strikes me. Is it because I’ve not spoken to Seth since I dipped out on him yesterday? Maybe. Embarrassment comes over me in waves of nausea any time I think about what he knows. He’s seen my wounds. The healed and the new.
I shiver and look around, trying to distract myself, but there is no use with all this quiet. It’s meant to be a busy night. Every shift on the rota has been claimed, yet I am the only one in this room. Something’s not right. A few of the ladies have formed a wee clique, led by Diamond, naturally. It’s obvious she’s taken her barbies into the second changing room, but who gives two shits? Not I!
A smirk appears when I think of the last time I saw her. On her knees blubbering at my feet. Where she fucking belongs. Beneath me. No wonder they’ve gone AWOL. Good riddance. Gee me some fucking peace.
As I finish dressing, I spy Megan’s jacket and smile. It’ll be nice to see a friendly face. I haven't seen her since the mayhem in the purple room. I’ll need to make sure and get her digits tonight. I think we could have fun. I might even push the boat out and invite her for a movie and popcorn night.
Jack’s got a hardon for her that’s for sure. Maybe if she gets with Jack and I end up with Seth, we can double date? Woah! Calm down ya bunny boiler! I don’t even know if we’ll end up friends again let alone more.
God, but do I want more.
Reflection has never been something I liked to do. God knows the amount of shite from my past, it’s been better left in the dust. But if I can't move forward, how can I expect to let Spence in? When I think of letting him touch me, my skin crawls like I’m covered in ants. How am I going to get past this trauma response? Will he have the patience to wait for… fuck knows how long? What if I never enjoy his touch? Even when I've touched myself, it’s only been to take the edge off the craving to cut. Sometimes I masturbate to help me sleep, but I’ve never really done it because I’m turned on. And now, I want nothing more than to flip a switch in my head and experience all that sensual light shining inside. To be able to enjoy sex with a person I love. The irony is not lost on me that I exude a sexual persona for work, yet in real life, I can’t let a man touch me. Will it ever happen for me? Fuck knows. All I know is the next time I see Seth, I won’t run like a coward again. I’ll stand toe to toe and look him in the eye. He can decide if we’ll be friends or foe.
Raised voices outside the dressing room seep through the door. What the hell is that kerfuffle about? I hurry to the door in nosey bastard mode, but as Wee Isa says, ‘people huv tae know’. I yank the door open and the corridor is awash with bouncers ushering the ladies into the other dressing room.
Wit the fuck is going on?
Dianne hurries away along the corridor. Her bob looking like she’s been dragged through a hedge backwards. Clearly been pulling it. which is a very telling sight. She never rushes anywhere, even if she’s going to be late.
“Dianne!” I shout over the racket.
She turns and I see her tight-lipped, worried expression. The main things that give Dianne the edge needed to be Madam of Chameleon, is that she never worries, works well under pressure and can always handle any of the shit the girls throw at her. So clearly this is a hiccup of epic proportions.
“What’s going on Dee? This is mayhem!” I gesture to the blatantly obvious.
She sighs and attempts a game face, but I can see right through it.
I’ve mastered that look.
“Oh, nothing to worry about Phoenix! Just a wee issue with one of the clients, but it’s all under control.”
Her eyes give her fake smile away. I smell bullshit. As I lift an eyebrow she knows I'm onto her.
“If you could please wait in one of the changing rooms until we give word that you can start work, I’d appreciate it,” she says with a tight smile.
I go to probe more, “Dia-”
But she cuts me off. “Have you seen Megan at all? Is her stuff still in there?”
I straighten at the question, anxiety clawing at my chest.
“No I haven’t, but her jacket is in here. Is this all because of Megan? Is she okay?” I fire question after question, as the fear in my voice matches the look on her face.
“Sshhhhh,” she chastises me and pushes me back into the changing room. This is so out of character which adds to my mounting fear. Dianne looks panic stricken. “Yes, there’s a situation with Megan. Someone from her Australian home came looking for her. She got spooked and took off. I can’t find her, and I just want to make sure my lassy is okay.”
My lassy!
The phrase hits a chord. Megan has lived with Dianne since she arrived in Glasgow from Brisbane, making them rather close. There’s no denying Dianne took on the mother hen role and takes it seriously.
The green eyed monster seeps in as I silently wish that Dianne had taken me under her wing and we’d bonded that deep.
What would it be like to be loved like that?
My inner bitch pops out to give her two pence.
You do have someone who loves you that much ya fuckwit.
Yeah I guess I do. A warmth settles over me at the thought. He didn’t give up on looking for me, why would he give up on me now just cause I have a few scars? Don’t we all? Maybe I'll go to him, cap in hand and just lay my shit out?
A jostle of my shoulder brings me back into the room.
“Are you even listening to me?” Dianne huffs, irritated.
I at least have the decency to look embarrassed.
“Sorry Dee, I was away with the fairies. Do you want me to come and help you look? I’m only half changed,” pointing to my latex covered bottom half.
“No, no,” she waves me off. “Stay here and when I’ve found her, one of the guys will tell you. Just keep this to yourself though.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t go anywhere near her eyes.
I give her a sympathetic smile in return. What else can I do?
“Okay,” I say, reaching out to rub her elbow.
She softens slightly at my touch.
“Thanks Phoenix.”
It feels nice to touch someone and show them a little comfort. I wonder how Seth feels about me not allowing him to give that to me.
Dianne nods and heads back out the door.
I hurry to the bench where I left all the gear and start dragging off my boots before standing to shimmy out of my PVC leggings. Shame no one will see the full outfit today. When I tried on the white leggings paired with the red PVC tank top and gloves, it gave me superhero vibes. But I have no time to waste.
I squeeze into my black jeans and then my Docs, thankful that I wasn’t in full outfit yet. The black skin tight t-shirt in my locker will have to do. Jesus, I look like a burglar. I snigger to myself while rummaging around in my bag for my phone. When I find it, I look up Craig’s number and dial. After the seventh ring he finally picks up.
