A Terrible Whore

I desperately tried to figure out how to respond.

'Your father and I had an agreement,' I eventually replied.

'Why did he stop visiting me? And why has he come back now?' she asked. 'Mum... I used to think you were crazy. I believed him when he said you were psycho.'

'Everyone believes him in the beginning,' I said matter-of-factly. 'I'll speak to him. I'll organise something. I'll try and arrange regular visits. Maybe if he can see you once a week, for a couple of hours, at an agreed time... maybe that would be more manageable.'

'I don't hate him. I just need him to stop calling me and messaging me and just showing up. I need him to let me be. And I need him to stop asking me questions.'

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. 'Questions?'

She shrugged uneasily. 'Yeah.'

'What questions?'

Elise shook her head. 'I don't want to repeat them, Mum.'

'Elise, I can't help you if I don't know what's going on.'

She stood up and walked towards her room. 'It doesn't matter. It's not that bad.'

'You can always talk to me,' I offered weakly.

'I know,' she said. 'Maybe another time.'

In private, I wept rivers of tears. I investigate the cost of lawyers and cried some more. It was a hopeless situation.

All I could think of was how foolish I'd been ten years' ago. Carl had come home from work frustrated and had beaten the living piss out of me, before taking Elise 'out'. Five hours later they still hadn't returned. The police were unconcerned. The hours passed. I called the police again and again, and when they grew annoyed with me, I went down to see them. They tried calling Carl's number, and left him a message. Five minutes later, Carl returned their call, and told the cops there was no problem, I'd just misunderstood some things. He and Elise were with his parents.

I went home to wait. I showered, gingerly running the sponge over my bruised body, and realised that I was completely and utterly alone. The police had seen my bruised face and arms. My employers had seen it. My family had seen it. And not once had anyone actually asked me if I needed help.

Help, I understood, wasn't something that was going to come from someone else. What I needed was to leave. What I needed was a plan.

The following day, a Monday, I called in sick and had three free consultations with three separate lawyers. One was rude, one was useless, and one, a bright young thing with a smart suit, fresh out of university and running his own practice, understood what I wanted.

My lawyer contacted Carl and told him the marriage would be ending and the only visits he'd be getting would be supervised, or, should Carl be difficult, I'd press charges. Furthermore, Carl wasn't to know my address, contact me, email me, visit, nothing. Carl lawyered up, and his counsel requested two additional items; firstly, that child support would be 'private collect' only and secondly, the agreement would end when Elise was thirteen.

That was how I got out of my marriage and secured supervised access. Unsurprisingly, I never received child support, but that had always been a given. The problem was that Elise was now thirteen. I had no more aces in my deck. All I could rely on now was the hope that Carl would be reasonable.

As I said; I'd been foolish. A smart woman would never have put an expiry date on the arrangement.

~~~~~~~~~~

In between my visits with Dean, we started texting and calling each other. He called more often than he texted, but he said it was nice to receive a friendly text during the day, so I put in the effort. Truthfully, 'effort' isn't the right word. I liked him, and he was always so appreciative that it was a pleasure rather than a chore.

I can't remember how the phone calls became a regular thing. He called me once to confirm what time I was coming to visit him that week, and somehow we ended up talking for an hour. I called him a few days later and the same thing happened.

The phone calls weren't dirty. Sure, sometimes at the end he'd start talking about sex and desire and how good I looked naked, and I'd understand he was in the mood, and we'd talk and he'd jack off, but mostly we just talked. He often apologised at the end of calls, saying he didn't mean to take up so much of my time or waffle on with his shit, but I didn't need any apologies. Hearing his voice, and talking about the mundane aspects of our lives, was an escape from the reality of Carl. And whenever I said to Dean 'I need to go' or 'I can't talk now', he respected it. No whinging, no complaining, no 'but I'm paying you', just a good natured 'good-night sweetheart.'

I didn't talk to him about Carl or Elise. They were the only two topics that were off limits, not that Dean ever mentioned or asked about either. He'd asked 'how is your daughter's dental treatment going?' and I'd replied 'fine', and he'd asked a few other logistical questions, but nothing personal. Nothing that raised my hackles.

He'd buy me little presents each week. Nothing expensive, but items that showed he'd been listening to what I'd been saying. There was a bottle of Moscato to take home with me, a jar of moisturiser (I'd complained to him that I'd been waiting for it to go on special, as I was nearly out but refused to pay full price - something I'd told him as a bit of a general whinge, not as a hint), a movie voucher so I could take Elise out, chocolates and a gift voucher for a pedicure at a spa. The last item had left me mortified, and I'd asked if my feet hadn't been up to scratch, but Dean had shook his head and said no, he just wanted to do something nice for both of us.

I was in the midst of some serious clashes with Carl, who was claiming that I was trying to restrict his access to his daughter 'for my own benefit', when I had a bit of an awkward experience at Dean's house.

It was a Friday afternoon and having worked back earlier in the week, my boss told me to leave at lunchtime. I called Dean to see if he'd prefer if I came around earlier and he said to come around whenever I wanted. He was having a great run with a job and was due to finish early, so he'd get home around the same time I arrived at his house.

Normally I had a shower and changed into nicer clothes after leaving work, but I didn't bother that day. I was in a cute dress and strappy sandals, and my newly pedicured toes looked good against the gold straps. I thought Dean might prefer this outfit and besides, if he was coming straight from work, we'd probably end up in the shower at his house anyway. He got sweaty and dirty at work, but he'd said several times that when he got home he always went straight to the shower.

I was three streets away from his house when I heard someone toot their horn. A quick glance in the rear vision mirror showed it was Dean, behind me in his truck, waving and smiling at me. I waved back and together we drove back to his place. I parked, got out, and went to the driver's side of his truck.

'You want me to open the gate?' I asked.

'Thanks sexy lady, that would be great,' he said, fishing around for his keys and handing them over.

The dogs were by now very accustomed to me, and I was very accustomed to them jumping and demanding attention. I patted them as I opened the gates and Dean drove in, grateful that at least the weather had been dry and there were no muddy pawprints being left on my dress.

Dean parked his truck out the back and hopped out of the cab. I must've been growing fond of him because I took one look at him in his boardies, no shirt, socks and crocs and thought he looked rather endearing.

'What happened to the shirt?' I inquired.

'Too bloody hot for a shirt,' he replied. 'And the old bird next door was getting a good gander at Lenny, so I figured she could get a two-for-one.'

Lenny was Dean's eighteen year old - and only - employee.

'Is Lenny good-looking?' I asked.

'Don't ask me,' Dean replied cheerfully. 'I'll tell you where we're working one day, so you can drive by and have a peek and tell me what you reckon.'

I burst into laughter. 'I'd rather look at you.'

'Poor woman,' he said, pulling me close and kissing the top of my head. 'First she thinks I'm good-looking and secondly, she let's me kiss her straight after I come home from work.'

I grabbed his wrists, so he couldn't touch me, and kissed him on the lips. 'You're gorgeous.'

'So why are you holding my wrists?' he inquired.

'Because if I don't, you'll start grabbing my arse. You've been doing that lately. The moment I come over you start feeling me up.'

Dean was contrite. 'Yeah, well... it's hard to control myself around you.'

I grinned at him, swatted his arse, then bolted towards the gate before he could exact revenge. My running skills weren't the best and I was giggling like an idiot, so I hadn't made it even part of the way around the front of the house before he caught me. The dogs were delighted, wagging their tails and thinking some wonderful game was occurring, as Dean covered me in kisses. I knew I was going to smell of him for the whole car ride home but honestly, it didn't matter.

Tears of laughter were dribbling down my cheeks, my hair was flying everywhere and I knew I must've looked a wreck, but I didn't give a whit. I was too busy trying to grab Dean's bum and he was busy trying to get mine. Dean, I should say, was having a lot more success than me, whereas all I'd really managed to do was lose a sandal.

We were so caught up in what we were doing that we didn't notice a man standing at the top of the front stairs until he spoke.

'Get him, love!' he called out encouragingly. 'Kick him in the nuts!'

Dean and I paused mid-move and stared up at the bloke as he cracked up laughing.

'Simmo,' Dean called, quickly putting me down and just as quickly yanking my skirt, which had ridden up my thighs, back down. 'What are you doing here?'

Simmo stared at us. I blushed and tried to smooth my hair while retrieving my lost sandal and putting it back on. The dogs were still circling around us and wagging their tails like maniacs.

'I was going to call, but I figured it was Friday and there was a good as even chance you'd be home by now,' Simmo replied. 'I wanted to know if I could borrow the excavator early next week.' He stared at me for the longest period of time. 'I know you. It's Rachael, isn't it?'

I tried desperately to place Simmo. I thought he looked familiar, but I just couldn't place him. And yet he knew my name. My real name.

Simmo figured it out before I did. He clicked his fingers as he reached his conclusion. 'You were Nicky's office girl, right around the time he got nabbed by the coppers. I was one of his sub contractors, for when he got desperate and needed help.'

I grimaced at the mention of my former employer's name. 'Yes,' I agreed. 'That's me.'

'Bad business, that. I always wondered what happened to you.'

'I spent some time unemployed but eventually I found a new job,' I replied. 'I had to use fake references, though. Nobody believed me when I said I didn't know what he was doing.'

'Did you know?' Simmo asked curiously, walking down the stairs.

I shook my head. 'Not exactly. I had a good idea it wasn't all above board, but I was a single mother and he didn't get upset if my daughter was sick and I had to take time off work... And he paid well...'

'Hard to make a fuss when you've got a kid to worry about,' Simmo agreed. 'I'm glad you're back on your feet.'

I glanced over at Dean. The expression on his face was unreadable, but there was something there, something brooding.

'Did you want to pick up the excavator now, or Monday morning?' Dean asked.

'Whatever works best for you, buddy,' Simmo replied, sensing Dean's discomfort. 'Hey, I didn't realise you were seeing anyone. I thought for sure you were a confirmed bachelor.'

Dean didn't know how to respond. He stared at me helplessly, pleading for assistance, but I didn't know what to say or do any more than he did. It's one thing to have time to pre-plan how to deal with an awkward situation, but I'd never anticipated running into one of Dean's friends or colleagues, and I could tell he hadn't thought it was happen, either.

'Sunday afternoon,' Dean said. 'Come around Sunday arvo. I won't need it early in the week, and I'm hiring it out Thursday and Friday, but Monday through Wednesday is fine.'

Simmo had reached the bottom of the stairs. 'Sure.'

Dean's eyes kept darting over at me. 'Just come around whenever. I'm not going anywhere.'

'I don't want to interrupt you and Rachael,' Simmo said, casting a sympathetic smile in my direction.

'I won't be here,' I replied quickly. 'My daughter and I have an afternoon planned at Westfield.'

'Ladies day,' Simmo acknowledged.

I smiled at him. 'No men allowed. Not that Dean would want to come; I think he'd rather sit at home and watch telly that be asked if my bum looks fat in something.'

'I'm not sure I can remember the last time I've seen Dean out of boardies,' Simmo joked. 'Would he even know what a shopping mall looked like?'

'I haven't seen him out of boardies, either,' I replied. 'I'm beginning to think 'dressed up' is boardies and a singlet.'

Simmo laughed. Dean gave me a funny, crooked little smile, and I couldn't help but smile back. It hit me at that moment how different he was from Carl in every single fucking little way. I couldn't give Carl shit, particularly in front of people without him exacting revenge later on. Not Dean. Dean loved a bit of banter.

'She's seen me out of boardies,' Dean said. 'The poor woman's seen me in the buff, but she's probably just trying to block the images from her brain.'

I felt myself blush a dark red. 'Dean!'

The men laughed. I chuckled a bit, too, despite my embarrassment at having left myself wide open.

'We're catching up for tea next Saturday night,' Simmo told me. 'One of the girls have set it up as an event on Facebook. Dean's invited. You should come too. Bring your daughter if you want, it's at a local bistro that's family friendly, and a lot of us have kids.'

'I, uh...' I fumbled. I glanced at Dean, to see how he felt about the impromptu invitation. 'Um...'

'I think she's busy,' Dean told Simmo. 'Something with her friends.'

'No worries, then,' Simmo said in a friendly voice. 'Just didn't want Rachael thinking she wasn't welcome.'

Mercifully, Simmo decided this was the appropriate time to leave. He organised a time to come around on Sunday afternoon and headed across the street to where his car was parked.

Dean apologised profusely, but I told him it was okay. It wasn't his fault; I knew that, and it had been just as awkward for him as it had been for me. Hell, it probably hadn't been great for Simmo, either.

We went upstairs. Dean unlocked the door and ushered myself and the dogs inside, but I could tell he was still out of sorts after the unexpected visit. He'd been in a really happy, playful mood when I arrived but now there was none of that.

He did a fair number of cash jobs, money that never went through his books, and he had a fair chunk of it stashed around his house. I hadn't gone looking for it, and I sure as hell hadn't pinched any of it, but I'd seen it when he went to get me a glass, or he reached into the bedside drawer for a condom.

Dean went to his pot drawer, took a lid off a casserole dish, and withdrew a chunk of notes that were secured with a rubber band. He handed it over.

He hadn't previously done anything that pissed me off before, but somehow, being made to physically extract my own wages from a wad of cash annoyed me. I understood he was upset about Simmo arriving, but it wasn't my fault.

I retrieved two hundred and thirty dollars and put it in my purse. I put the rubber band back around the remaining wad, walked past Dean to the casserole dish, shoved the remainder in and slammed the drawer shut - not hard, but harder than I should have.

'No,' he said. He opened the drawer, took off the lid, and picked up the cash. He held it out to me. 'That's for you. I'm sorry.'

The wad of cash was about a centimetre thick and made up of one twenty dollar note and countless fifties. How much was there? At a guess, somewhere between fifteen hundred and two thousand. An almost incomprehensible amount of 'spare money' for someone to have laying around the house. I couldn't wrap my head around what it would be like to have that sort of money. I didn't have a coffee unless it was at work, using work supplies, for fuck's sake. I got sent on an overnight trip last year and cleaned out the motel's supply of tea and coffee bags so I'd be able to have a cup of Nescafe on the weekends.

But hey, he wasn't the one who had decided to have a child to someone who was beating them up. He wasn't the one who sat in an air conditioned office for thirty-eight hours a week and then went home without ever having to worry about invoicing or marketing or dealing with clients who were pissed off because it was raining.

'I'm not taking your money for something beyond your control,' I said, pushing his hand away.

'Simmo knew you.'

'That was weird,' I agreed. 'But I'm not worried. I mean, listening to you call me 'Alexa' has always been a bit strange. Now you know my real name. If you'd prefer to use it, I understand.'

'He assumed you were my girlfriend,' Dean pointed out.

'Did that bother you? It didn't bother me.'

'Yeah, it bothered me,' he admitted. 'Soon everyone's soon going to know about you, and I'm going to get asked questions that I just don't know the answers to. I don't know where you work. I don't know what you do. I don't even know where you live. All I know is that every time you call or text or visit, my stress levels go down and I feel a level of happiness that I wouldn't have thought possible. I know you're going to finish paying for everything you need to pay for and leave, and that's okay. You're upfront with me. But I like you being my secret, and I like not having to answer questions about you, and now that's all gone. And worse still, you were put in a position where I would never have wanted to put you.'

'How about I go to this dinner with you next week? I was going to speak to you about coming around Saturday night instead of Friday, because my parents are going away to the Gold Coast for the night and they're taking Elise and two of her cousins with them. I'm free and clear if you want me to go along, answer any questions directly, and just... keep up the charade.'

Dean weighed up the situation. Eventually, he came to a conclusion. He came over, took my hand, and pressed the money into it.

'Consider it payment,' he said. 'I want you to spend the night with me. I want to wake up the next morning and see you lying beside me.'

I took the money and threw it onto a bench.

'No,' I said. 'Standard fee applies.'

Dean's eyes followed the path of the cash, before diverting back to me. He had really clear, blue iris and they were fringed with thick black lashes. Beautiful eyelashes, far too pretty for a man.

'You're a terrible whore,' he said. 'You could lead a man to a place where he'd sell everything he had just to see you again, and yet you don't ask for anything more than what you need for your child.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maybe I was a terrible whore, but he was also a terrible client. He could have asked for just about any sexual act, but instead, he took me to his room and made me cum so hard I screamed out his name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carl showed up at my workplace at lunchtime Wednesday to demand an explanation as to why my parents would be dropping Elise at his place on Sunday rather than me.