Dirty Aristocrat

It was nearly four by the time I let myself into the apartment, and I was dropping my shopping bags on my bed when the doorbell rang.

Curiously I went to answer it. It was Chloe.

‘Hello,’ she said, miraculously managing to make a harmless word sound like an insult.

‘Ivan’s not in,’ I said.

‘I know. I’m not actually here to see him. I left something in his bedroom and I’ve come to collect it.’

‘Oh, OK.’

I opened the door wider and she sailed in. She was wearing a beautifully cut navy blue coat. She undid the buttons. Under it she was wearing a blue dress. Someone should have told her

that just because it zips up doesn’t mean it fits.

I moved back. ‘Well, you know where everything is,’ I said noncommittally, and began to walk towards the kitchen. I stood in the middle of the kitchen and heard her enter Ivan’s bedroom

and close the door.

I looked around the spotless space. My stomach felt funny and there was a vicious taste in my mouth. I didn’t know why I had gone in there. I was not hungry and I was not thirsty. I went

to the cupboard and opened it. My fingers were gripping the knob of the cupboard so hard my knuckles were bone white.

I really did need that holiday.

I stood staring at the contents in the cupboard. I swallowed hard. I should bake something. Good idea, Tawny. Bake something. I blinked blankly at the canned food and condiments on the

shelves.

Cornbread.

That’s what I should do. Make a show stealing, rich, tender, moist, flavorful, crunchy-edged, buttery tin of cornbread.

Bitch.

I turned away from the cupboard and went to the fridge. The first and most important ingredient: unsalted butter. I placed it on the counter. Deep breath. Nothing to do with you. Don’t

you be minding other people’s business, young lady. Right. OK. Fine.

I closed the fridge and opened the cupboard where all the dry ingredients were kept. Brown sugar, corn flour, all-purpose flour, baking powder. I started pulling the ingredients I needed

out, unconsciously slamming each one on the counter.

The last one penetrated my fog of fury.

I stopped and took a hold of myself. I had no right to be angry. Ivan and I were getting married, but it was a fake marriage. He didn’t belong to me. Besides, it was my idea to not drag

sex into the equation. So really he could sleep with as many slutty Chloe clones as he wanted. I heard a noise behind me and whirled around.

Chloe was standing at the door, well posing, actually.

‘Found it,’ she announced with a smile and waved something in the air. ‘My butt plug.’

My expression must have betrayed my thoughts because she frowned and came towards me.

‘I know you. Don’t get ideas about Ivan. He’s no Robert Maxwell. He’s a man who needs things you know nothing about. You haven’t got the slightest clue how to keep him satisfied. Do you

know how I met him? I met him in a club called The Dirty Aristocrat. Do you know what he was doing? He was finger-fucking a random woman on the dance floor.’

My mouth dropped open.

‘Yeah, I thought so. He’s wild. Like me.’

I snapped my mouth shut.

‘So here’s some good advice. Stay away from him. He’s mine.’

My skin bristled and the hairs on my body stood on end. I felt like one of those cats you see with their backs arched, their fur ruffled, their heads thrust forward, and their mouths

opened in a threatening hiss. Then she made her first big mistake. She reached out and poked me in the chest with her forefinger. I forgot to say, I’m a bit fussy about who touches me.

I grabbed her finger so suddenly her head snapped back. I turned it upwards while I watched her eyes widen with shock and her mouth open in an inelegant (but extremely satisfying for me)

grimace of pain. She tried to pull her finger out of my grasp, but I was the stronger of the two of us and I had no problem holding on.

‘Listen, honey,’ I said quietly. ‘I didn’t go to finishing school to learn how to eat a fourteen course meal in the proper way, but where I come from girls like me eat bitches like you

for breakfast. Let this be your first and last warning. If you touch me again, it won’t be a butt plug being stuffed up your skinny ass, but my rolling pin.’

Her eyes bulged with fear. Her mama had obviously not told her to never corner someone meaner than herself.

I let go of her finger. ‘Now get out of my sight.’

She clasped both her hands together and took an unsteady step back from me.

‘What are you doing here, Chloe?’ Ivan asked from the doorway of the kitchen.

We were so engrossed in our little spat we had not heard Ivan come in the door. He had addressed her but he was looking at me with an odd expression on his face.