The Bad Boy Wants Me

It is not a long journey to Brewer Street, right in the heart of Soho.

Chapter Twenty-five

Tori

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=60ItHLz5WEA

If not for the long queue of people waiting to go in and the remarkably large bouncers gathered outside the wooden doors, I would never have imagined that those bland doors are the entrance to London’s ultimate in naughty burlesque and fantasy cabaret. A place that is supposed to give one of the strangest nightclub experiences in all of London’s night life.

Even before the Mercedes comes to a halt, Cash’s security detail jump out of their vehicles and head quickly towards our car. All eyes immediately turn curiously in our direction with the knowledge that a celebrity is about to emerge from it.

Both Cash’s door and mine get opened at the same time. I take a deep breath and slide out nervously. So many eyes are on me. Then Cash steps out on the other side and instantly there are shouts, whistles and wild screams. People start calling out his name. Cameras start flashing.

Surrounded by his menacing team of guards, Cash looks to me, smiles and thank God, takes my hand in his. Then we are quickly escorted towards the entrance doors.

Suddenly a bunch of girls leave the queue and rush forward squealing Cash’s name and stretching out their hands to touch him. I immediately feel intimidated by the surge, but Cash seems to take it all in his stride. He lets go of my hand and stops. He even shakes some hands. A girl begs for his autograph and suddenly thrusts her arm to him. Immediately Cash’s security team form a wall to block her.

‘Hey, it’s cool,’ Cash says, and taking a pen from one of the security team proceeds to sign her arm.

‘I love you,’ she screams as the red ropes are lifted and we are ushered quickly into what looks like a large theatre with two stages and meters upon meters of luxurious red velvet, exquisite gold embellishment and candles everywhere.

Oiled-up naked beauties hang from the ceilings and dance on top of bathtubs. I know, weird, but wonderful. A woman named Ashleigh, one of the hostesses, comes to show us to a cordoned off private party area. There is red banquette seating and it is already crowded with people. The only people I recognize are Octavia and Gavin and two other members of Alkaline. Octavia smiles tightly at me, and Gavin gives me a slow smile.

Cash starts introducing me to them. There are too many for me to remember, but the thing I notice straight away is how quickly the other women eye me up and down, then immediately set out to completely ignore me. As we mingle I even find myself being deliberately elbowed out of the way. Disgusted, I let go of Cash’s hand and almost instantly other people push me out of the way, like water closing on something. I turn away to go back to the table and a pair of strong arms catches me by the forearms.

‘Hey,’ Cash says, turning me around. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘Look. I know everybody wants to talk to you. I don’t blame them, you’re the star. I’ll just go back to the table and wait for you there.’

He frowns. ‘Fuck off, you will. You’re with me. If I wanted to spend the night with them I would have come on my own.’

‘Cash,’ someone calls.

‘See,’ I say softly.

‘No, I don’t see,’ he says, and putting his arm around my waist turns to the person who called him. Now that it is clear I am to be part of the conversation and cannot be pushed away, some of the group reluctantly include me in their discussion.

I understand that my voice is not welcome so I don’t say much. I just listen to what everyone else has to say and I try very hard not to watch Cash avidly or not to be distracted by his thumb slowly rubbing the small of my back.

Thank God for the shows! I watch them with something akin to astonishment. No wonder they have a ban on phones and cameras. Nobody back home would believe the ‘cabaret’ shows at The Box.

Two naked pre-op transvestites suck up the contents of a bottle of champagne into their butts and then spray it on the audience. No, you didn’t get that wrong. I did say butt and not mouth. Cash laughs at my shocked expression and tells me that is what it means to transcend the concept of indecency! There are also strip shows and a rather impressive fire eating stunt.

Eventually food is ordered. Everyone has burgers and fries since it seems to be the only thing on the menu. After the show, the DJ plays plenty of dance hits and the dance floor fills up. When Cash excuses himself to go to the toilet, Robbie, one of the other band members who is very drunk, turns to me and says, ‘Hey, Yoko.’ There is something nasty in his voice. That gets the attention of the whole table.

‘What did you call me?’ I ask.

‘Are you planning to be a Yoko?’ he says again, this time louder.

I feel my face start to burn. What the hell is a Yoko? All eyes at the table are on me. Some of them are openly sneering.

‘Leave her alone, Robbie,’ Gavin says.

‘No, let her answer,’ Octavia says, her jaw tight.

I sit forward, anger storming at my gut, but I keep my voice even. No way in hell am I going to let this bunch of spoilt, entitled, green-eyed, immature shits get to me. ‘I’d answer if I knew what you were talking about.’

‘You know Yoko Ono. John Lennon’s big mistake. The bitch split the Beatles up.’

With the exception of Gavin everyone at that table is hostile to me. The women are bubbling with jealousy and the men feel threatened that I will lure their precious superstar away from them. Cash and I have hardly started our relationship, it is at the just sex stage, and yet all these people see me as some kind of jezebel.

‘I have absolutely no intention of breaking the group up,’ I say clearly.

‘Let’s hope so,’ a man in a suit says sarcastically.

Octavia says nothing. Just looks at me with hatred glowing in her eyes. The intensity of her animosity shocks me and I turn blindly to the only person who seems to offer any kind of support.

Gavin winks at me as if to say I did OK, and I mouth thank you.

Everybody is deliberately watching me and trying to make me feel unwanted and unwelcome, so I casually pick up a cold fry from my plate and slip it daintily into my mouth, as if I don’t feel the waves of loathing coming at me. I chew it slowly, it tastes and feels like a wad of cold newspapers in my mouth. Then, without warning, everyone starts talking and laughing normally, I stare at them thinking I must be going mad when I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. Ah, they saw him arriving. I look up at him with relief.

‘Want to dance?’ he asks.

I can’t even speak. I just nod and get to my feet. He leads me to one of the little raised platforms all around the club that are being used as mini dance floors. Faded is playing when Cash takes me into his arms. He doesn’t dance like anyone else. He just holds me close to his body, his hands enveloping me, and moves slowly so the only thing between us is the music swirling around us. He looks into my eyes and smiles so long and slow and I think my heart will stop. All the while I can feel his erection press into my stomach.

‘That’s what you do,’ he whispers.

‘What?’ I whisper back.

He puts his forehead to mine. ‘You make me fade away.’

My brain refuses to believe. Impossible. ‘Not the adored, famous, sex god, Cash Hunter?’ I croak.

His lips are an inch away from mine. ‘Do you always have to be this annoying?’ he asks.

‘I call out bullshit as I smell it,’ I say.

He chuckles. ‘You’re right. The truth is you make me so fucking hard I can’t even think straight anymore,’ he says and takes my lips.

My heart pounds and I actually feel as if I am drowning in Cash Hunter. When he takes his mouth away I stare up at him, dazed, my legs like jelly, and my head spinning.

‘Excuse me, can we have an autograph please?’ a voice says and I jump.

Startled out of my world, I swing my head towards two young women not much older than me, their faces animated and filled with excitement

. They are staring at Cash as if they can’t believe their eyes. I turn my head back to him and unlike how he had been outside, there is now an expression of extreme irritation on his face. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and turns to them. ‘Not right now,’ he says tightly.

They look so utterly crushed I feel sorry for them. I see myself in them. Once that was me. I would have killed for an autograph. OK, maybe not killed, but I could have not eaten for days, or something equally difficult. I turn back towards Cash and smile. ‘Go ahead. I don’t mind.’