Pulling away from the lights, she felt like Darcy had really put the mockers on the day, more or less forcing her into an arranged marriage organised by Santa. Sighing, Violetta perused her options. She should try and get Kyra expelled from school, or spread malicious rumours about her obnoxious parents so they’d leave the area and Darcy would never see the uppity little monster ever again. That might help solve the daddy equation and having to put up with Mr and Mrs Smug. Violetta liked this idea, two birds, one stone.
Added to her failings in the marriage department, it also irked her immensely that no matter how hard she tried she always felt like the underdog, the family’s loose cannon, the one who messed up. Sometimes she wanted to scream, ‘Hey, I’m actually doing okay.’
Darcy was, hands down, her greatest achievement but apart from that and without the help of a man, or her mum for that matter, she’d bought a two-bedroom town house on a new estate in a nice area on the outskirts of Macclesfield. And she was able to send Darcy to a private day nursery before she started school, and take her on holiday every year and afford treats like weekends away and days out.
Violetta wasn’t flash, though, because if she knew one thing about her mother, she wasn’t stupid and if she started living the high life questions would be asked. That had to be avoided at all costs. This was another reason Leonora’s fiancé, Creepy Caspar, was given short shrift when he started dropping hints about taking over the bookkeeping for her own business. He would do it for mates’ rates, a nice little earner for him and it’d save her money. Not a chance. It was bad enough that her future brother-in-law knew the ins and outs of her mum’s business, let alone hers.
Her investment in the artisan bakery had paid off and she was able to work her hours around Darcy so for both of them, life was sweet. Well it had been, but all that was about to change since her best friend and business partner had quite frankly lost her mind; and maybe her daughter had too. Suddenly, to ice the cake, one wanted to go on an adventure and the other one wanted a sodding dad.
Turning on the radio to numb the boredom of crawling along in what looked like a never-ending line of traffic, half listening to the local news, Violetta weighed up her options. There was no way she could buy Candy out. For a start her friend was the backbone of the business, the master baker while she flitted in and out. So if the bakery closed it’d mean finding a new job; and where the hell was she going to store the equipment for her other one? Certainly not at home that was for sure.
Home.That word made Violetta’s stomach flip. What if she couldn’t pay the mortgage? She would have to let her house and move back to her mum’s. Would that be such a bad thing? Certainly not. For a start Darcy would love living at her grandma’s, seeing as she constantly begged to stay for sleepovers in the big house.
Truth be known, Violetta hadn’t wanted to move out in the first place and would have happily remained under her mum’s roof with her toddler. Who wouldn’t want to live in a gorgeous house in the countryside with dogs and ponies and your family all around, yes, even Granny Sylvia. It had been her desire to prove herself that eventually led to her moving out, showing the world that despite her circumstances and change of career she could stand on her own feet.
Oddly enough, she still saw her mum’s as home and loved staying over just like Darcy so if push came to shove, she could go back. That was at least a short-term option and eased her tension down a notch. She really needed to have a sit-down chat with her mum as soon as possible but knew that the second she explained her predicament, it would taint The Big Christmas Weekend. Her mum would start worrying and that was the last thing she wanted hanging over her head. This family get-together meant a lot to their mum so Violetta’s problems would just have to wait a while longer.
The traffic was moving faster now and seeing the turning for the bakery, Violetta indicated and pulled into the car park at the rear of the building. She wasn’t stopping long. Her shift in the shop didn’t start until midday and she was only popping in to get changed and collect her case of equipment.
She needed to head back out of town and towards an exclusive boutique hotel where she had a client booked. Leaving her car, Violetta hurried towards the steps that led to the flat above the shop, waving as she did to Candy who’d spotted her from the bakery window.
‘I’ll see you later on. Is everything okay?’ Receiving the thumbs-up sign from Candy she carried on and when she reached the top opened the door to the flat.
Inside, she went straight to the bedroom and took out the uniform hanging in the wardrobe and began to change quickly. Her work was specialised and catered for a range of customer requirements which is why she needed somewhere to store her equipment, which varied from one session to another.
That day, her client was new and she wanted to make sure she was there in good time so hurried, checking her watch as she flicked off her boots. Violetta had taken her time getting to know him online before agreeing to take him on. It was a two-way thing. Making the client feel comfortable but more so she could get a measure of them. They usually lied about their age though: vanity and the fear of getting old wasn’t confined to the female race.
Buttoning up her white overall and pinning on the name badge, Violetta checked her image in the mirror that told her she looked fine, pristine and professional and after slipping on a pair of flat black shoes, put her coat on and pulled the Gladstone bag from the shelf. Being organised was essential and made her life easier, meaning she was ready to go within minutes.
She intended to use the drive to prepare and go over everything the client had told her via email. He’d been seeing someone else for a while but they were away on holiday and he required a session to get him over the festive break. Even though the procedure was straightforward and she’d performed it many times before, she expected the client to be nervous and therefore explained each step. All practitioners varied slightly so it was best to be thorough.
Once she was back in the car and driving towards the main road she switched on the sound system and selected a playlist to get her in the zone. The money for the session was already in her account and the thought of her big fat fee made her smile as she tapped her hand along to the throbbing beat of Guns N’ Roses.
The hotel was indeed exclusive and smelled divine, of expensive reed diffusers and fresh flowers that stood on plinths lining the corridor. Glancing again at the room card, Violetta checked the door numbers and looked for 308. Two doors along she paused before placing the card in the lock and once the light turned green she let herself in as arranged.
Inside the silent room she looked around and got her bearings. The king-size bed was made up with what she assumed was high quality bedlinen but that was of little concern because they wouldn’t be needing it. The windows were covered with organza, good. That gave them privacy but still she walked over and drew the curtains across.
After switching on the bedside lamps she placed her case on the mattress and eyed the bathroom door which was closed. Next she undid the silver clasp and began taking out her equipment which she laid out on the bronze bedspread. Slipping off her coat she laid it by her bag and took out the old-fashioned nurse’s cap which she placed on her head and fastened with clips before picking up the restraint and the long silver chain that was attached.
Walking to the middle of the room she positioned herself outside the door to the bathroom where the client was waiting, just as she’d told him to. Taking a fortifying breath, because it was always a bit of a moment when she met them for the first time face to face, lowering her voice a couple of octaves, sounding commanding, she summoned him from the room.
‘You may come out now.’
The door opened slowly and a hooded figure appeared, the bathrobe open at the front and underneath the man was completely naked, head and shoulders bowed as he shuffled forward three paces, his hands covering his genitals as instructed.
Violetta swung the chain by her side, the neck restraint in her other hand as she gave another command. ‘Stop. Take off the hood. You may look up. Do not speak.’
The man obeyed and then slowly lifted his head. All she could see was the crown of his hair, brown. Nondescript. She didn’t pay much attention to the rest of him. It was of no consequence or interest. She was there to do a job, nothing more.
When it happened, coming face to face was almost in slow motion and instantly Violetta wished she could press rewind. The gasp that filled the room came from him while she remained mute, catatonically rigid. The only responsive parts of her body were her brain which prayed for it to be a dream while knowing in her wildly beating, panicked heart that it wasn’t.
It could have been anger, that she had been caught out and her carefully constructed world was about to come crashing down, or maybe it was a simple mouth-jerk reaction that made her ask possiblythemost stupid question ever.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
The answer was accompanied by a sly smile, one that immediately told Violetta that the man before her was the worst kind.
Even though they were both in a very unfortunate predicament, only one of them found it amusing and that did not bode well.
