ricocheted throughout her body and left her weak and gasping.
She opened her eyes. Her chest heaved with emotion.
Henri’s mouth was still fused to her groin and she felt the pull of his lips as he sucked her, drawing her hot juices into his mouth and swallowing them greedily.
“Délicieux!” he growled when he finally released her and pushed himself to his feet, dabbing a handkerchief to his lips.
Catrin grinned at him, a little self-conscious now at her vocal release.
“Is everything all right in there?” A tinny voice from the speaker by the elevator buttons made them both jump.
“Yes, we’re fine,” Henri replied. “I pressed the wrong button there for a moment. We’re on our way down!” He laughed at his own joke.
When he returned to her side, she smiled at him. “I have to disagree, monsieur.”
“Pardon?” He frowned, his handsome face lit up with mischief.
“You pressed the right button, Henri!”
He winked at her and she shook her head, wondering at her own wild and reckless behaviour when in the company of this handsome and gifted man.
***
Later that evening, Catrin walked through the side door to the Venus Lounge and down the steps to the dingy changing rooms. She felt so light and free after spending the afternoon with Henri. They had enjoyed a lazy lunch in the city then gone back to his hotel. He’d asked her to stay and been very persuasive – it had taken her three attempts to finally leave him. But she had to be at work for nine and she couldn’t risk being late for her shift.
She nodded at a few of the other girls as she pushed her bag into a locker and pulled out her Venus outfit. After a day of extreme pleasure and joy, having to come to such a seedy place was the last thing she wanted. The Venus Lounge made out that it was a high-end joint with a better class of clientele. But in reality, from Thursday to Sunday, it was filled with drunken men on lads’ weekends or stag parties. Occasionally, it even attracted a hen party too.
Once she’d squeezed into the tiny top and shorts, she closed her locker door and sat in front of one of the mirrors. The itsy-bitsy outfit was so different from her usual work attire. She hated how she looked.
But it was about to get worse.
She pulled her long blonde hair into pigtails then began layering on the make-up. A thick base of foundation was followed by blusher, bright red lipstick and false eyelashes.
Done.
She looked the part, like a walking, talking doll. She was ready to act out the role that the club’s patrons desired. Although she only served drinks at the club, and there was meant to be a strict no-touching rule, it didn’t always work out that way. She often found herself grabbed or fondled as she squeezed through the groups at the bar to carry their drink orders. If it didn’t pay so well, she’d have been able to excuse herself and quit, but the tips in particular kept her Cardiff Bay apartment secure and that was how she wanted it.
Or had wanted it.
She donned her pink wedges then strolled out into the arena like a gladiator ready for another night of defending her own honour if not her life. A few regulars had already arrived and they sat at the bar, nursing their drink of choice. Catrin eyed them as she began polishing glasses. She felt so sad when she looked at them because they gave weight to what her mother had told her for years. Many of the men wore wedding bands and, she suspected, carried pictures of women and children in their wallets. The wallets that they plucked notes from to slip into the tiny thongs of strippers and dancers at the club. Yet here they were. Keen to ogle the young women who hung their lithe, semi-clothed bodies from the poles and swings or displayed their wares in the curtained room out back.
She hated that working here consolidated all that Georgia had ever said about men. That they were disloyal, that they cheated or failed you in some way – especially when they got you pregnant and ruined your life.
She shivered. Well that wouldn’t happen to her. Ever. She knew how to keep her own heart safe. She had no intention of ever surrendering to a man.
Not even a gorgeous Frenchman who seemed to have a heart of gold.
“There’s something different about you, Catrin, I can tell,” Sarah narrowed her eyes and peered at her as if to see into her mind. The look made Catrin giggle as it reminded her of Larry David’s expression in his TV series Curb Your Enthusiasm.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Catrin waved her hand dismissively at her best friend but her lips twitched with a grin. She turned away, feigning interest in a passing couple and their twin buggy.
They were snuggled into a booth at a Cardiff City Centre Starbucks, nursing cappuccinos and apple muffins. It had been weeks since they’d had the chance to catch up and Catrin had really missed having her old friend around. Since Henri’s arrival from France just over a week ago, she’d been busier than ever. Although Liam hadn’t assigned her any of her own clients as yet, he had given her responsibility for Henri during his stay in Wales. It was unusual for Liam to delegate hands-on client time to her but he was currently chasing up some reality television stars, keen to sign them to his books before another agency commandeered them, so Catrin finally had the chance to show what she could do.
And look what had happened!
She was risking it all for great sex. And it was just for the sex, right? She wanted to believe that it was just a physical attraction to Henri that was driving her into his arms but she had a feeling she couldn’t shake that there might be something else unfolding too.
“Is it work?” Sarah queried. Catrin knew that her friend was well aware of how hard she had worked to get her internship at the firm. After all, Catrin had roped her into the composing of her résumé.
“Yes…kind of…” Catrin smiled, breaking small pieces off her apple muffin and making a small pile on her napkin. Wonderful work. She loved her job so much and until recently it had been all she’d had to focus on. As an intern at the agency, she’d been striving hard for two years to secure a permanent position. But Liam H. Clarkson, though seemingly kind and full of praise, had not yet seen fit to promote her. He was, she reflected, almost too keen to keep her as his intern/personal assistant. And she wanted so much more.
“How’s that what’s-his-face treating you? You know, your boss?”
“Liam?”
“That’s the one!” Sarah leaned forwards over the table and a tendril of her long red hair brushed against the froth of her coffee.
“Sarah!” Catrin giggled. Her friend was so clumsy. She was always covered in food, drink or dog hair.
“Dammit!” Sarah wiped the end of her hair with a napkin. “So?” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down. “Has ‘Mr Liam I secretly love Catrin as my PA because she’s so efficient’ finally given you a hint of a possible permanent contract?”
Catrin shook her head.
“Then
