Chapter 10

I yawnas I stretch my arms up over my head. My feet kick out under the duvet, toes pointing as I let out a sigh. And then it hits me. This isn't my bed. It's Josh's. I'm at Josh's place.

Damn, it was late last night when Tiff said goodnight and we finally got in bed for the night. Or the morning… fuck knows what time it is.

I turn my head to find the Adonis propped up on an elbow, watching me. The butterflies start up the very second my eyes meet his. They pull me in and eat me up, sending my emotions spinning out of control. This is another kind of morning after syndrome entirely. No escape in sight.

Connor always took the piss out of my sleeping habits, and I feel my cheeks burning up.

"Have I been snoring and dribbling all over your lovely purple pillows?"

"You aren't a snorer. You do a sweet little whistle with a flutter of lashes, actually. Like this."

I laugh out loud when he lolls his head back and gives me an impression. He pulls me close as I'm still laughing, and the bulk of him feels electric against my skin.

"You're a sleeping beauty for real, somno acting or not," he says, and my arms are around him in seconds, my lips on his as he manoeuvres himself on top of me. And here we are again, flesh against flesh, limbs tangling as the chemistry takes over, right from the off. I spread my legs and grab his ass, wanting his pierced beast of a cock all the way inside me.

But he shakes his head, and gives me another kiss, then a smile.

"Steady on, baby. Believe me, I'd love nothing more than to pound your pussy right now, but we're already well into the afternoon. We have to grab the stuff from your place and get back over here. I've got a proposal to get suited and booted for." He grins. "And you're being overly ambitious, have you seen the state of your ass this morning?"

I grimace as I clench, and I have to laugh.

"Is it that bad?"

"I'd say you want to rest up a bit, yeah."

"Damnit."

"How about I get us a coffee? Then we can dash across the city and pack you a suitcase."

I run my fingers down his stomach muscles.

"There's really no need. Seriously. I can go on my own, or go tomorrow. No big deal. I'll borrow one of your hoodies or something. I'll survive."

He shakes his head, his eyes so full of adoration that it makes my heart race.

"I don't want you to go on your own, or go tomorrow, even though you'll look better in my hoodies than I do." He smiles, before his expression turns serious. "The sooner we get your stuff here the better. Then we can get holed up, settled in cosy. Work, rest and play."

Oh, the thought of getting holed up with Josh on all levels.

"Sounds like heaven," I say. "Let's do it."

If Josh is surprised by the dilapidated mass of houses on the way to my place, he doesn't show it. He's totally chilled as we walk along, looking up at the shitty curtains in people's grimy windows quite happily.

We'll be cutting it fine, time wise, since we've taken the tube and grabbed some food on the way, but he doesn't usher me along or try to rush me. The rush is all on me. I want in and out of this shithole as quickly as possible. Just one small case to last until Wednesday and we can bail back out again.

"Almost there," I say and point to the end of the road. "That's me, the terrace off to the right."

"I used to visit a place around the corner," he tells me. "A regular booking. Once a week for quite some time."

"Really?"

"Yeah. A client used to rent a room specifically for play time. She liked it in squalor. Said it made her feel dirtier. She didn't change the sheets in months, not for a single booking. Believe me, there would have been a few of them as well. I wasn't her only entertainer. She said variety was the spice of slut."

I try to imagine Josh here, fucking another woman in a room like mine. Squalor.

"What was she like?"

"A nice, blonde woman in her fifties, going through a divorce. She hadn't fucked her husband in years. Hadn't fucked anyone in years, actually. She was taking it wild. Working through every fantasy she'd ever had."

I contemplate leaving it at that, but I'm just too curious.

"What fantasies did she have?"

"They ramped up in time. Degradation and deepthroat, at first. Wanted to be told she was a horny, cheap bitch as she gagged on cock. The opposite of the demure, meek little wife figure she'd been acting out through a twenty-year marriage." He pauses, shooting me a glance. "It was as though she was chasing the white rabbit down the rabbit hole, getting addicted to pushing her boundaries."

My heart thumps, thinking of Josh's cock in another woman's throat. Right here, in my part of town.

"Where did it end up with her? How far did she go?"

"You really want to know?"

I nod. "Yeah, I do."

"She'd kneel in the filthy, mouldy shower room, and I'd piss in her face while she was fully clothed. She'd still be soaking wet when I forced my fist in her pussy, and she'd squeal the whole fucking place down. Incredible really, given that she'd been practically virginal for a decade."

"Sounds quite something."

"Yes, it was. In my experience, it's not just us entertainers that go further and further down the naughty list. The clients go there, too, looking to tick off more and more boxes." Josh takes hold of my hand. "I was happy for her when she got with a friend she'd known since high school. She'd always referred to him as a vanilla ice cream, but apparently not." He laughs. "They got drunk together one night and she confessed her sins. He took her straight to the bathroom so she could demonstrate them. They're still together, as far as I know."

"Wow!"

"Yep, indeed. She was a lovely woman. She always made time for a decent glass of wine with me when we finished up. She had a brilliant, loud laugh, a bit like Tiff's. She'd clutch her sides and double over whenever she talked about her evil queen of a mother-in-law and her nasty, tutting bullshit. She'd put up with a lot of it." He laughs at the memory. "She finally gave her the middle finger when the divorce papers came through."

He talks about his client so fondly, and with so much respect that I stare up at him in a weird kind of half reality, not quite sure what to make of it.

Does it turn me on, or squick me out? Or both? I'm not quite certain, so I file it as surreal for now, like so many things in my newly forming world.

I'm still staring up at Josh when a raucous yell thunders down the street.

Three idiot university-age guys are hanging around on bikes, clearly with nothing else to be doing, since they're clearly not at university. Or at work.

One of them does a wheelie, then shouts in my direction. Shouts at me.

Gonna let us write SLUT on your tits? Give us a show! Come on!

What the holy fuck?

My cheeks burn up as one of them flings a load of coins down the street towards me. They bounce along the pavement, pinging all the way.

That enough for you to get your cunt out and fuck us against a window?

Oh shit. Of course.

I stop in my tracks as I realise. George Grove and Steve's window were so close to home I should have been wary. I should have figured word would spread.

Just like my legs had.

I feel like such a fool as my cheeks burn up. I wonder if all three of these guys saw the show in its full glory. I remember the way I screamed at full volume… the way I blew a kiss to the crowd like a slutty showgirl…

I must have been out of my head to think it wouldn't cross the pathetic little abyss between his place and mine.

"Shit. Don't worry, we can come back another time," I say to Josh, embarrassed as fuck as I tug at his hand, but he shakes his head.

"To escape those pathetic little pricks? Not a chance in hell. They can fuck right off, the sad little dipshits."

I look up at the bulk of a man with his hand in mine, so steady as he stands tall. His eyes are filled with a steely rage I've never seen in him, his jaw gritted as he squeezes my hand, then keeps on walking. Faster.

"Josh, we can go. Seriously…"

"We don't need to. They can piss right off."

The assholes are still jeering, spinning on their bikes around the street by my place until we get closer, then they line up, facing us next to my pathetic excuse for a garden fence as they keep on yelling.

You should have seen your tits bounce. So fucking cheap, you know that?

Josh doesn't respond, just keeps on pacing.

We're going to have to walk right past them to get to my door. Right up close. I feel really fucking sick as curtains twitch around us, their yelling garnering attention.

Because I'm Ella here. I've always been Ella here, not Holly. This is home. Or it has been.

"We can come back, honestly," I say again, my eyes flitting around the people appearing in windows, but Josh is having none of it, just keeps on walking.

He steps out in front of me when we reach my garden and the assholes beside it. God, they look so fucking smug.

But Josh looks so fucking angry.

"You three pricks better get the fuck out of here, right now, or you'll regret it."

He squares right up to the guy in the middle of the trio, and puts his hands on his handlebars.

Fuck. FUCK.

I scrabble for my keys from my handbag, fingers trembling.

"I mean it, dipshits," Josh says. "Get the fuck out of here."

His voice is even, unfazed. His tone is aggressive, but so steady.

So fucking confident.

I stop scrabbling in my handbag and look on, dumbfounded. I step closer, my eyes on Josh and not the assholes in front of him. There is something about his confidence that gives me butterflies as I watch him, standing eye to eye with the ringleader. He doesn't even break a sweat up close. No sign of weakness whatsoever.

He's so much bigger than them. Taller. Imposing.

Magnificent.

The guy tries to tug his bike away, but Josh doesn't let him. He holds the bike firm. And as for the others, they don't move, just stare on as mute as I am.

"You her fucking pimp or something?" handlebar guy says, but his voice is less cocksure now. It's empty bravado. "Should have given you the coins, not her."

In one of his signature snakelike moves, Josh's hand snaps up around the guy's throat, crushing hard. The guy paws at his windpipe, flailing, but Josh doesn't let go.

"No, I'm not her pimp, you pathetic little cunt. I'm her fucking boyfriend."

Holy fuck, how the guy on his bike topples as Josh launches him sideways, his bike crashing right on top of him. It makes the one to the right of him fall like a domino – two of the three guys ending up in a clanking mess on the floor. As for the third, he doesn't even wait for his friends to get back up from the tangle they're in, just spins on his wheels and pedals the hell away from here. Wimp.

Josh stands tall and watches the other two squirming under their bike frames, and I watch him in amazement, replaying his words in my mind.

I'm her fucking boyfriend.

Yes. He is.

He's also an entertainer, just like I am, and he's so real with it. So easy with it. My emotions spike as the fear disappears. My embarrassment shrivels and dies, because I'm proud of him being him. I'm proud of us.

And I'm proud of me, too. Embarrassment can go fuck itself.

I feel a flame of fire as I look down at the two jackasses on the floor. The stupid pricks who insulted me.

I'm not sweet little Ella who lives here anymore, keeping my head down, ashamed of myself from the day I moved in, and dreading any passing whispers.

I'm Holly now, too.

And Holly won't take any shit from sad little tossers like them.

I step up beside my boyfriend, glad I'm still in my glorious display of my ballgown from last night's dinner date.

"You two are a pair of vile losers, you know that? And you know what else? Seeing me in front of a window is the closest you'll ever get to getting a piece of me, because you'd never be able to afford me in a million years."

I put my heel up on one of their bike wheels.

"Being a whore doesn't make me cheap, boys, it makes me the opposite, actually. So, fuck off back to your own part of shitville and leave me the fuck alone." I twist a little, so they can see my thigh through the split in my dress. "And make the most of this view, because it won't be around here much longer. My slutty cunt has risen me like a phoenix from the ashes of this hellhole. Shame your sorry little dicks won't do the same for you."

I lower my leg, and Josh boots his foot into the guy's wheel. Christ, how the spokes clank. He's likely buckled them.

"You heard her, shitheads. Get the fuck out of here, or you won't have your sorry little dicks anymore. I'll tear them off along with your bollocks."

The idiots get to their feet, looking like dumbass college kids rather than hardcore yobs. They jump on their bikes and speed away as fast as they can. Good fucking riddance to them. I'm well aware that the twitching curtains around us are filling up with more neighbours, but I stand proud, uncaring.

They likely all know the story by now anyway.

It brings so much back to me from days of old. I remember all the bitchy whispers and rumours from high school. People sniping that I was this or that. Weirdo with no friends. Stupid bitch. It used to hurt, walking into a room and knowing people were laughing about me, sneering about me, talking about me like I was worthless.

I'm never going back to that part of me. Not for anything.

"You alright?" Josh asks.

"Yeah," I tell him. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

I nod, and smile up at him. "Yeah, I am. And thank you. I don't know what I'd have done without you here. Probably run in the opposite direction. At least they won't be bothering me when I come back."

His eyes are still so fierce, but so protective.

"No, they won't be bothering you again," he says. "Because you won't be coming back here again. It's not just those little dipshits that will be keen to jibe at you."

I take a look at all the windows around us. All the people out to sneer and gossip.

"We'll pack your stuff up right now," Josh says. "Everything. Let's get you the hell out of this dump for good."

He turns towards the house, but I pull him back and wrap my arms around his neck and press myself up against him, kissing him with burning heat, right here on the pavement.

Have some of that, curtain twitchers.

"Thank you," I say when I break the kiss, my nose still pressed to his. "You're quite a boyfriend, you know that?"

"No need for thanks, and I'd do it regardless, boyfriend or not. Nobody will ever hurt you when I'm around. That's a promise."

I get my keys out of my handbag, shaking at the realisation that this will be my last time in this place. I climb the cracked steps, and turn the key in the shitty lock, and lead Josh upstairs to the room that used to be my world, my new boyfriend at my side, instead of the old one who didn't give a shit about me when it truly came down to it.

I grab my suitcases, and overnight bags, and a couple of holdalls I'd stuffed away when I moved here, and we bundle up my possessions. Clothes, makeup, bedding, shoes. Old mementos and my tattered old journals, taking it a drawer at a time.

It's so weird to see the room changing, my old life being packed away.

"Is that everything?" Josh asks when we're done, and I give the room one final check over.

"Yeah, all finished."

We stand amidst my belongings, cases piled on cases, and Josh calls us a cab.

There are even more curtain twitchers staring down on us as we load my things into the car. I have tears welling as I see how carefully he treats my belongings, not breaking a sweat or rushing.

I'm all set to jump into the back seat of the taxi and speed away, but something holds me back. A pull I can't ignore.

"Can I take one minute to say goodbye to this place?"

"Of course." Josh says. "Take as many minutes as you need."

Ok. One last time for me.

I walk back into the house and upstairs on trembling legs, surprisingly emotional as I reach my old bedroom door. I step into the room, empty and bare, so similar to how it was when we arrived here. I remember Connor's cheer at the fact we were here in the city, and the vigour in how he slung his suitcase on the floor, spinning around like we were in a mansion, not a dive.

I can see the smile on his face. I remember the joy I felt at seeing his. The belief, the hope, the excitement.

And now it's all over. The dreams that morphed into nightmares.

It's me alone, saying goodbye to this place, no more Connor at my side, and I never want to see him again. Not for the rest of my life. The very thought gives me shudders.

Good fucking riddance.

Josh is waiting for me with a smile on his face as I get downstairs and finally shut the door behind me. He's watching me as I post my keys back through the letterbox.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders before we get in the cab together.

"You ready?" he asks.

"Sure am."

"Time to go home," he says. "Belgravia, here we come."

I'm still staring at the old house through the rear window as we drive away, but my hand is in Josh's.

My heart belongs to him now, even if his dick is going to belong to someone else tonight.