Watching Over You (15 page)

Earlier, she hadn’t been thinking of meeting anyone, hoping that Charley would reply to her text message and say she was available to meet this time. But she hadn’t, and she’d rudely dismissed her when she’d gone downstairs in search of sugar that she didn’t need. In her anger, she’d texted Michael with her address. He was free – although she didn’t plan on letting him stay long. Ella intended to spend the rest of the night pleasuring herself. She’d found a new soft porn website that morning. There were lots of interesting pictures and articles that would entertain her for hours.

Suddenly, she spotted a shadow in the window of number thirty-six. Ah, she smiled. Jake was on the prowl again. Ella liked Jake, thought he was cute; wondered if he was a virgin or if he’d popped his cherry yet. Not sure of his age, she recalled seeing him one night in a bar, found him attractive then, too, in an older-woman-shags-boy kind of way. She knew she shouldn’t but she really wanted to seduce him. Maybe he’d come up to her flat one day and she would let him screw her in the window, in full view of everyone who wanted to watch. Jean, for one – she was always watching.

Her hand slipped inside her open dressing gown and she began to caress her naked skin above her pubic bone. Across from side to side, gently, never taking her eyes from Jake. Knowing he could see her turned her on even more. She might as well give him something to watch.

While she stroked her skin, her eyes moved across to Jean’s window but she couldn’t see her. Now, that was a surprise, and a disappointment, she realised. She’d caught her on numerous occasions watching while she masturbated in the window, or once or twice as she’d been screwed by some young stud who wouldn’t give up until he’d come three or four times in one session.

The orgasm was quick; she was hot because she knew she was being watched. Ella moved from the window to take a shower. Whilst in there, she masturbated twice more, then again in the bedroom, and had to shower again. At this rate, when her date turned up she would be spent but sometimes the urge took over. She needed release and she needed it now.

She hated being rejected.

This was all Charley’s fault.

Chapter Sixteen

Still naked when Michael arrived, Ella pulled her dressing gown on again and went downstairs to let him in. She opened the door, pleasantly surprised. Wearing a charcoal suit, a white shirt open slightly at the neck, and dark hair gelled back enough to look sexy as hell, her date seemed like he was ready to take her out to dinner. Ella liked that – the fact he’d made an effort for her, not knowing what to expect; not knowing whether they would go out or stay in. It was a shame that it would be wasted. All she wanted was to see him naked.

‘Cassandra?’

She nodded and he stepped in, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. He followed her upstairs. Her heartbeat quickened when she realised he’d been checking out her legs, her robe barely covering her bottom for a purpose. When his hand touched her thigh, she stopped. He left it there, inching it up while he drew level with her on the landing.

‘You smell nice enough to eat,’ he said, as she closed the flat door behind them.

Ella knew he was talking crap. She didn’t reply; she didn’t need to. That was a big advantage of being a member of
One Night Only
– she paid good money to behave how she wanted.

In the hallway, she grabbed the lapel of his jacket and pulled him close. ‘So, where is it to be, Michael?’ Her voice was softer than her mood. ‘In the bedroom?’ She stood up on her toes to kiss his lips gently. ‘On the floor in the kitchen?’ She kissed him again. ‘Bent over the table in the front room?’ She ran her tongue across his top lip and bit down on it playfully. ‘Or here, good and hard up against the wall?’

‘Not much room in here,’ he spoke softly back to her, untying her belt and slipping his hand inside her dressing gown.

Ella pressed her body to his as they kissed, wanting to feel skin on skin as quickly as possible, knowing this would do until they were both free of clothes. She stepped back, taking him with her into the living room. Maybe someone else would be in one of the windows. She could give them double for their money this evening, if Michael would oblige. Sometimes her lovers did; sometimes they didn’t.

She felt the small of her back hit the top of the settee and she slid off her dressing gown while his hand slipped between her legs. Still kissing, she tugged at his jacket and let it drop to the floor. A moan escaped her lips as his fingers went to work; hers undid buttons on his shirt. Once that was off too, her hands dropped to his belt. He stopped her, turning her round quickly and bending her over. He found her wetness again, and she held onto the settee as the pressure began to build. She was sore from all the earlier fun but she didn’t give a stuff. Right now it was all about being taken, being screwed. She needed to be wanted, even if it was only for a few moments.

She needed to feel him inside her.

She reached behind to touch him but he pushed her hand away. Turning slightly, she could see he was pleasuring himself at the same time.

Well, what do you know! He doesn’t need you.

Ella tried to face him but he pushed her back. It was always the same, always the fucking same – they would screw her but they would never want to look at her. Was Michael imagining she was someone else? Did the guilt of it all become too much? She laughed out loud. She’d chosen another stupid bastard. What a waste of time.

Still, she let him push her to the limit, climaxing noisily. Then, as he was about to push himself into her, she wriggled out of his way. He huffed, left hanging as she moved to the side of the room.

‘Why won’t you look at me?’

‘What?’ Michael looked perplexed.

‘You!’ She pointed at him. ‘You can fuck me but you can’t look at me. Why?’

‘It’s nothing personal. I like it better that way.’ He grinned. ‘Tighter; firmer; better for me.’

‘You can take me now while you look at me or you’re not having me at all.’

‘Really?’ His hand found his cock, moving up and down it as he stared at her. ‘Fine, I’ll shoot this across your carpet if you don’t come and finish me off.’

She watched him for a moment, her eyes never leaving his as he pumped with his hand. She wasn’t going to move. He could make as much mess as he liked; she’d make him clean it up before he left.

But a moment later, the urge to join him became too much.
She
needed to give him that pleasure, to be in control of when it happened. She wanted to see his face as she made him come too, know it was because of her. Disgusted with herself, she dropped to her knees to finish him off.

Once it was over, she reached for her dressing gown. She slipped into it quickly and wrapped around the belt.

‘Well, that wasn’t what I had in mind,’ she told him.

‘It’s what I wanted. You know the rules.’

‘Fuck you! I needed more than that.’

‘You would have got more if you hadn’t thrown a strop in the middle of it. What was all that “I don’t want to see your face” shit?’

‘It was true!’

‘Not, it wasn’t. It was the way I like it.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘You didn’t even have the decency to get dressed for me, make an effort, so it works both ways.’

Ella frowned in confusion.

‘You’re in your dressing gown, easy access for a quick fuck that tells me; so that’s what I gave you. If you wanted more, you would have dressed for me. Not dressing means you don’t give a shit who I am or what I do as long as you get your rocks off.’

Understanding now, Ella knew he was right but she would never give him the satisfaction of telling him so.

‘You’re wrong,’ she said instead.

‘Am I?’ Michael paused, as if weighing up the situation. He shook his head. ‘You’re weird. So unless there’s anything else on offer, I’m leaving.’

‘Fuck off, then.’ Ella folded her arms.

Michael pulled on his shirt and jacket. She watched his every move.

‘That’s it, then?’ he asked.

Ella nodded. But as he turned to the door, she realised he was actually going to leave. She thought he’d been joking. How dare he! He needed to fight for her. Wasn’t she even worthy of that? The selfish fuck-wit! Picking up a book from the coffee table, she struck him on the back of his head.

He cried out in pain. ‘What the –’

Seeing him turn towards her, she drew it back to hit him again.

Michael wrestled the book from her hands, threw it to the floor and her onto the settee. He pinned her down with his body as she thrashed about to shift his weight. Then his hands were inside her dressing gown again, fingers searching. She stopped struggling and pulled him close. God, she needed to feel him inside her, no matter how annoyed he was.

She kissed his lips, his cheeks, his lips again. But he didn’t respond. Looking into his eyes, she pressed down on his hand, arching her back to greet him.

Then he stopped. ‘You’d let me, wouldn’t you?’

His breath was shallow but Ella couldn’t make out if it was from lust or anger.

‘Yes, I’d let you,’ she replied. Her eyes never left his. God, she wanted him inside her! ‘I need to be fucked.’

He sat up abruptly. ‘I’m going to leave.’

‘You can’t! Not yet.’ Desperately, she pulled him back but he knocked away her arm. She followed him down the hallway, levelling with him at the door. As he opened it, she slammed it shut again.

‘No.’ She pushed him up against the wall and kissed him. Still he resisted, grabbing for her wrists, pushing her away. She tried to remove his jacket again but it was no use; he was too strong. When she knew she was beat, she slapped his face.

‘You bastard,’ she said, tears now falling. ‘You bastard.’

He let her cry for a few seconds and calm down before he pushed her into the opposite wall. He mirrored her actions by pressing his body up against hers, but he didn’t try to kiss her. Instead, he looked at her with contempt.

‘I know the games we play can be dangerous but you’re lucky that I don’t hit women,’ he seethed. ‘Because if I did, I’d have knocked your fucking head off by now.’

Ella didn’t dare speak. Her black mood was mounting again, pushing her anger nearer and nearer to the surface. She had to control it; otherwise, she would lash out again.

Eventually, after a few seconds to catch his breath, Michael released his grip and stepped away.

Ella didn’t trust herself to move. Her eyes flitted around for something to grab but there was nothing of significance.

Michael opened the door, turning one last time before he left. ‘I don’t think I’ll be rating this visit as five-star-fun on the website. You need to get some help.’

Ella slammed the door behind him and slid to the floor in
a heap.

What the hell was happening to her? Michael was right: she did need help. But she couldn’t go to see her social worker and be patronised for failing. Every time she went back, it was harder to do it all over again when she went off the rails. It was like someone else’s mind took over her body, took control of her thoughts and made her do things.

‘All I want is to be loved,’ she whispered, tears beginning to build. She pulled herself up and went into the bedroom, stepped into the closet. She closed the door and sat in the dark. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she cried herself to sleep.

I was a shadow back then – a weak individual who let people use and abuse me but then I tried to change. I learned my lesson after that fuck-wit Mark laid into me. The next relationship I had, I was in control.

I was the abuser.

What? You think I should take it all my life but not give it back? I don’t think so.

To overpower someone, I chose a woman. Her name was Nina and God, I loved her. I was with her for three years. It was a great time for me. The first two years were good for her, the last one not so much. You see, through all the years of abuse I’d had, I knew where to hit her, where it would hurt but the marks wouldn’t be seen.

It started with a harsh push away every now and again when we were bickering. Then it changed to the odd slap when we were arguing. Eventually, I punched her in the face, and bent her arm up behind her back while she begged me to stop. Then a swift kick to the stomach after we’d had sex one night. After that, the violence escalated to a more regular basis, along with verbal use – I was telling her what she could and couldn’t do, what to wear, who she couldn’t see; taking control of her money. Why did I do that? I don’t know.

Yet she never retaliated. She loved me, did Nina. And I turned that love to hate.

I hadn’t realised I’d become a monster, that I enjoyed being in control for once in my life. Not that I needed to be. Nina wouldn’t have hurt me. She loved ME.

What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I treat someone who loved me with respect? I loved Nina but instead I pushed her away. I wasn’t good enough for her.

On the night before she left, high on whatever drug I was on and fuelled by alcohol, I beat Nina bad. I can’t remember much about it now. All I can recall is she was in a terrible way and once she’d come out of A&E, she headed off to her mum’s. She didn’t want to be with me, said she needed space.

We live in the same city yet I haven’t seen her since. I called at her mum’s but she wouldn’t tell me where she was, despite my protests. Maybe she moved away. Maybe she still lives in the Potteries. Or maybe she got a train from Stoke Station and got as far away as she could. She was damaged – by me! I damaged her.

Oh, God, I missed Nina so much. Looking back on this now makes me realise that I was so wrong. I was scared and I hurt her because I was hurting. Was it because she was nice to me? Didn’t
I fee
l that I deserved a little happiness?

Why did I hurt her? Because it sure as fuck didn’t make me feel any better.

Me – the abuser. ME!

Surely that can’t be right?

Jake had been amazed to get two sessions out of Ella that night.
Man, the bitch was horny, touching herself to orgasm while
staring at him – right at him! It was such a turn-on. He had to have her soon.

And he knew now that she wanted him. She’d started to play with herself more often in the window, wanting him to see what she had on offer. Maybe he could instigate a meeting somehow, bump into her outside when she came out of the house. It would work if she had a set routine, like that other woman, Charley, who was as regular as clockwork now. It was a pity she’d got herself a fella: Jake wouldn’t mind a threesome. Even though he doubted Charley would be game, it didn’t stop him dreaming of them both.

His phone rang.

‘Where are you, mate?’ his friend, Will, wanted to know. ‘You said you’d be here half an hour ago. I’m standing like a lemon on my own.’

‘I’m coming,’ said Jake. ‘I’ll be with you in ten.’

He disconnected the call and sniggered. He was definitely coming. Just one more time and then he’d be gone.

Next door, Jean was certain she wouldn’t catch Charley doing what Ella had been doing now. It had been quite a show again; she’d written it down in her notebook.