Always Turns Up Ch. 03

In the end, it was early morning, and I was tired but still surprisingly sober, and I just ran out of things to say, except to say "Well, that is it. All of it. Thanks for listening. And now I think you should go and never look back, and that is ok. Because it helped me to tell you, but I am sorry I don't think I can ever look at you again, because now you can never look at me the same way as you used to." I really meant it.

He paused for maybe two seconds, then just slid across the couch and took my hand and said "When I was nine an older boy at school made me give him blow jobs. For about a year. He told me if I said anything they would expel me, and everyone would know I was a queer and that would be the end of me. My parents would throw me out. I lived in fear of him telling, for years. And it totally screwed up my relationships with girls. It wasn't until I was nineteen that I had a proper kiss with a girl, and realised that I couldn't be queer, because I really liked it. But I am still sort of screwed up about it. It isn't anything like what you went through. But, hey, we are both survivors of abuse, as they say. It is why I have never made a pass at you. I like you, for yourself. And now I know why you are you. And that is ok. That which does not kill us makes us strong, eh? So let's go to New York. But you can pay for your own ticket, and everything else. On expenses. I want hire you, not buy you, as my PA. I will start you on 52k a year, plus expenses. Any time you want to quit, you can give me two weeks notice, which will be paid time, but you can fly home immediately. And I will keep it strictly professional. No hankey pankey. Come with me. Keep me company. Let me show you the Empire State Building. Leave this country, this house, the past, the whole lot behind."

I just looked at him and said "Hankey pankey? Did you really say that?"

He laughed. "My father's phrase."

"You really want me to come with you? No hankey pankey?"

He said "Yes." So I went.

And there wasn't any. For a couple of weeks. I was lucky that Tilly had stashed my passport and we found it, and that Giles family business could sort out visas. So I enjoyed New York, and Los Angeles was a revelation. We got invited to a party which had some A list stars, and some heavy hitter producers and business types. Even I knew some of the names. And then Giles got an invite to a club. And that is where it all began to go wrong. I won't name the guilty party, but, he was well known for his off screen partying as well as his on screen stardom. So we end up in the VIP room, with cocaine and ecstasy, and half naked starlets, and the music... well you know that I always loved to dance, and that dancing always made me, more sensually aware. Turned on. And E. I hadn't tried it in Belfast, but I had it a couple of times with Tilly, and Leo, so I knew what it did to me. Loved up and wanting to do things that were repetitive and physical... it was inevitable really. We had hit the dance floor, down in the body of the club, and got fully into the beat and the crowd, and the pheromone high, and then when we made out way back to the private rooms, there was a group of topless starlets dancing and a couple in the corner shagging, and this film star giving us lines of coke while his porn star companion was giving him a blowjob. So when Giles sat down for a moment to get a breath while I danced in front of him, the dance got closer and closer, and then I was on his lap. In a very short skirt, and a very skimpy top. And we were lost in the music, and the movement and the drugs. We didn't have full sex, but it was all pretty intimate. Far more than anything we had done before. And I wanted more. For the first time in months I really wanted sex.

Back at the hotel he walked me to my room and I dragged him inside. Straight to the shower, and we spent a long drugged up time washing each other and just sliding over each other and I finally got him to penetrate me as we stood under the warm water and just rocked back and forth. It seemed to go on forever, until his knees started to give out as he was having to stand bent legged, so we uncoupled and stumbled to the bed still kissing, without drying, and I rode him until I came, and kept riding him, and came again and again. He couldn't. The drugs had wiped him out. And eventually I had to stop, and somehow sleep hit us.

The next morning was awkward. He was, after all, English. So I jumped on him again and told him that he had not taken advantage of my befuddled state, and that I was happy to do it again. And this time he came. And that was the end of having two rooms.

That evening we went to another party. It was hosted by a very famous English actress of the 1960s and 70s, who knew Giles' father from those days in London. It was an AIDS charity event, so all the great and the good, and very, very naughty, were there. I had an ecstasy hangover, so I did not enjoy it as much as I should have, but our host clung to Giles like a milkmaid with a new bucket, so we were introduced to everyone. It was surreal. Make a list of Oscar winners from the 60's to the 90's, and they were there. But one woman in particular was important for me. The wife of a producer, no one you would know if you were not in that world. Mid thirties, glamorous without being over the top as so many American women are. She was aware of her natural beauty and how to play on it. For some reason she took me under her wing, introduced me to people, and seemed genuinely interested in me. And at the end of the evening, she gave me her card, and said that I had to call her if I was ever in town again. And she took both my hands in hers, and looked me in the eyes, and said "I mean that. Most people don't. I do. Call me if you are in town."

It struck me as odd, but it left an impression. It was some years before I was back in LA. But that is another story. The story of Giles' and my affair, well it moved on to Tokyo, and touring Japan, then down to Hawaii, and New Zealand, Cambodia, Bali, Thailand, Australia, India, Oman, Moscow, Rome, Madrid, Barcelona, Berlin, and various other places before back to London. Sometimes he had business to do, mostly it was all pleasure. It took about a year. And for much of it I thought we were in love. Certainly we made love a lot. In the warm rain in Vietnam. In a treetop cabin in the forest of Bali. In a tent in the desert, and in a horrid Soviet era concrete hotel, on a balcony overlooking a carnival, in a narrow bunk on a ferry boat. But also in night clubs, dance clubs, and a few rather risky adventures in alleyways and cinemas, and public parks. Giles began to like the risk. And the drugs. In the last couple of months we were clubbing, drugged up, doing risky things too much. By the time I got back to London I was almost as unhealthy as I had been a year before. The tan and the relaxation and the good food for the first few months had been replaced by too much coke and not enough daylight. Or vitamins.

So it was time for my next saviour to step in. We had another business trip to do, to Italy, and then Lichtenstein. And that is where I met Franz.

Franzi, or just Zi to his closest friends, was in his fifties, balding and short. But absolutely charming. He came for dinner, and then lunch the next day, and then lunch again the following day. And at each meal he sat beside me. He quickly found out I could speak French, and we talked in that language frequently, as well as Italian and Spanish, because his English was a little stilted. He tried German on me and was amused when I said I only knew a few words - Guten tag, jah, Nein, Danke, and swei biere bitte. He laughed and said that was all I would need anyway because Germans all spoke English. After lunch on the third day he said "I have something serious to talk to you about. I think you are leading a bad life. You went to a club again last night, yes? All good fun and no doubt the drugs help that along, yes? And don't think I don't know, the young didn't invent drugs you know, we were hippies, you know? I know what drugs can do. All good fun, until it isn't. And today you feel terrible, but you still try to be good company, yes?"

I had to agree. "And Giles, there is tension yes? Things are not idyllic? It was all young love and fun, and now. Not so fun, not so much love, yes?

I said "Maybe." "Not maybe, it is being. Young people didn't invent love either. I know. Endings are messy. Why not make it clean. Come and work for me. I know you are on the books as his PA. I will pay you as much, but you will have to actually work for me. I could use an assistant who can speak four languages, and order beer in five."

I laughed and said "I can do that in Greek, and Thai, and Japanese, as well."

We talked about it, I said I would think about it. Maybe because of that Giles and I had a huge row about something else, which was trivial, so all the worse, and the next day I rang Franzi, who had given me his home number and his work contact details. Two days later I was off to New York again, this time for actual work. Although working for Zi wasn't that hard. I made a lot of phone calls to arrange meetings and taxis and restaurants, and hotels, but it was hardly challenging. However, he began to invite me to meetings, to take notes, supposedly, but also to observe, and initially at least, to distract. He bought me suitable outfits. Business-like but subtly seductive or alluring. He took me to a parfumier to test out which scents worked on me, and which were the most attractive. I was the smartest looking most demurely clad sex bomb you can imagine."

I had to laugh at that. "You know I do have a good imagination, and I can very well imagine that you played the role well. You could always turn on the allure, no matter what you wore."

Penny smiled and said "Thank you, but to be honest you were a hormone filled teenager and would be aroused by anything. Franzi taught me how to be alluring but untouchable, graceful and sensuous. How to turn sex appeal into power. Which gave me a whole new perspective on sex, on myself, and on myself esteem. And he was very careful to make sure I didn't become too manipulative, never a bitch, just confident. On the surface at least. But it would have been fun to see your reaction to me when I was dolled up for the bankers in Berne. They nearly had to call for a mop to deal with all the drool on the table. And of course Franzi had me briefed on key points to interject, that occasionally floored them. Middle aged men with hard-ons suddenly went limp when I asked about their exposure to Greek bonds."

She smiled in recollection, and then her face took on a slightly melancholy look. "I did think of you then. When I was with Zi. He got me cleaned up, and built my confidence, and gave me room to think about my past. One evening I thanked him, and told him a bit about the past. Not everything, of course, but enough to let him know that he had saved my life really. And that I appreciated it. And then he said "You know we had met once before. I have been wondering if you remembered. But it seems not. You were serving drinks at a meeting I had with a client, in Lord Leopold's house in London. You looked... unhappy, yes? I only did a little business with him, for Gile's family, so I don't know the man really. But I have heard some things about Leo. Unpleasant rumours, yes? If they are true then I am glad you escaped him. However I have a friend who is , making some enquires about Leo, and a girl who went missing a couple of years ago. Nice girl, I knew her as a child. It worries me, you see. And since you know about him, if you would like to talk to him, I could arrange it, yes?"

My heart went cold. Absolute fear gripped me. I nearly threw up. I had not thought about Leo for a long time, and the shock was staggering. Zi saw I was upset, and said, "I can protect you from him, you know that? I have heard that the girl I knew was badly treated. Some stories I found it hard to believe, you know? But I think they are true. My friend and I have made many enquiries. It was the reason I agreed to do some business with him, to see what he was like, if I might learn more about his , well, habits. But that is not why I employed you by the way, you know. It makes no difference to our arrangement if you say you cannot help, yes? I can understand, if that is the case. From what I know of him... well, of course you may not wish to recall your time there. It is why I have not said anything before. But... we need help, you know? He has had two other girls working for him since you left. One of them we think is now in another country, sold to a very rich man there, and unlikely ever to leave alive. She is probably not the first. I would like her to be the last, you know? He has blighted many lives, and his financial dealings are no less vile than his personal, appetites, shall we say? He is corrupt on every level, yes? And now I know more about him, I feel I need help to stop him. I want to see him in jail, and powerless. I wish to ruin him. You could help me do that, yes?"

So I told them everything. I also showed them the scars, from where Leo had gone a little too far. They have faded almost entirely now. I had told Giles they were from a skiing accident. And Franzi noticed my tattoo, and asked if that was his mark, as apparently Leo did often mark his girls. It was only then that I realised that it was Tilly's mark. She had made me get it, she had specified what and where it was to be, she had watched as the man inked it on me, and she had been very proud of it. She often touched it, or kissed it. I had been fond of it before, the odd number of petals meant that it always said "She loves me." But she didn't. It was a shock to finally recognise that, consciously. Suddenly I knew it was like a slave brand. And I hated it, and her. So of course the next day I made enquiries about getting it removed. It was the early days of laser removal, it was very expensive, took a lot of sessions, and left a scar that has also now faded pretty well. But it was good to have her gone.

It took a little time for me to regain equilibrium. Zi had learned far too much that was far too personal. He always looked a little sadly at me. I could sense pity, and imagined also revulsion. It spoiled the relationship. Oh we are still friends, and better friends now than then, but it wasn't like it had been. I had been a rising star, an independent women growing into her power. After I had told them all about Leo I was not just a survivor which is admirable, but a victim. A submissive that had cast off the chains, but really just a sub at heart. I had been a willing slave once, I could be again. Even a man as open hearted and kind as Zi would always have a little reservation about a woman like that. Except that I was determined never to be a slave ever again.

But a good thing then happened. Zi was the banker for Angel's father, and Angel's father died, and so I met the dashing young Comte, and he fell in love. I liked him. I was very fond of him, and he was extremely romantic and flattering and kind, and determined to seduce me. And I had not had sex for over a year. But I also didn't want to give in to a man again. So after six months he said "Is it a religious thing? Would you make love to me if we were married?"

And I laughed and said "I am not religious, but of course if I was married I would make love to my husband. I would not marry him if I didn't want to do that. And I would like children."

Which was true. I was broody. So he asked me to marry him. Several times. He wanted children, he wanted marriage, he wanted to make me happy, he wanted to be with me forever. He didn't care what his family would say about me not being Italian, and not noble born. I would be his Contessa, his lady. Of course I gave in eventually. One night in Rome, we had wandered in the streets, it was warm and the crowds were in good mood and not too congested. We had gelato, and pizza slices from street vendors, and red wine and olives and tuna fritters from a bar on a little square where an old man was playing a violin. We got back to the house, an ancient palazzo, and when we got in the door I took his hand and lead him to the bathroom, and took off his clothes, and showered with him, and took him to bed, and afterwards I whispered "Yes. I will marry you."

Which caused a furore. At least I was nominally Catholic. But not good enough by birth, by far, even if my Father was a decorated military officer. But Angelo silenced them. He was Head of the family now, and if he said I was to be his bride then everyone else can shut up or leave the family. My parents liked the wedding. My father charmed his grandmother, so that helped."

I interrupted. "Your parents? You have not said much about them."

She looked almost annoyed, to be interrupted, and maybe to be asked about a sensitive subject, but then she shrugged again. I could see it had become a common gesture with her. "Giles had got me to get in touch with them. Franzi had encouraged it too. It was difficult. They wanted to smother me, and take me home and keep me protected, and I couldn't do that. I couldn't tell them what had happened, what I had done, so it was a barrier between us. It got better after I married, and they adored the kids. But then mum had a stroke, and dad couldn't live without her really, and he just gave up and died about nine months later. Mum was in a care home, half paralysed, unable to speak and I don't think she knew me, or Dad. That broke his heart. She lived, if you can call it that, for seven years more. She never made any improvement. It was flu got her in the end. I visited her as often as I could for while, then as often as guilt made me. She wasn't herself anymore, and visits seemed pointless. But I still feel guilty about it. I made sure she had the best care, but... "

She looked up at me then and her eyes were bleak. "It was good to be back on good terms with them before the end, but I always felt I was lying to them all the time. I regret that, and I miss them terribly."

She looked down, and there was a moment of silence, and then she said lightly "But at least they enjoyed my wedding, and didn't live to see the divorce. It helped that my mother could speak some Italian, and everyone simply called my father "Major" so he basked in respect for rank. Of course they were lovely, as always, and so that eased my entry to the nobility. I might be an untitled foreigner, but my parents had military rank, and grace, and were obviously the right sort of people, which is more important in Italian society than anything else really. And so began four rather lovely years. I got pregnant quite quickly, which was a surprise, and then again two years after. And then about nine and a half months after my son was born, we were in London. Angelo had business, I was mostly being charming at boring dinner parties. We had just walked into the hallway of the house where we were to dine that evening when I looked across the black and white marble tiled floor to see who was wearing those amazingly red patent leather high heels. It was Tilly. My heart was not gripped with fear, but it should have been.

It took her a little while to recognise me. Different name, different look, speaking Italian and even putting on a little accent when speaking English. But she twigged it soon enough. And then she began to play with me. Across the dinner table she made a remark about being busy. She looked straight at me and said "You know what it is like to be tied up all day, don't you?" Later she complained about her work, how the management seemed to enjoy pissing of, or pissing on, the employees. "Of course some people like that sort of thing, but I have always preferred being the dominant partner" she said, again glancing at me. No one noticed, I think, it was just her being outrageous, as usual. Most of the people at the party knew she had a reputation, some had probably got first hand knowledge of her fetishes. But after dinner she kept close to me. Making pointed remarks, all evening, without ever speaking directly to me. And slowly fear did begin to grip me.