Chantal Fernando - Toxic Girl

The next morning, I wake up with a smile, which quickly turns into a scowl. There is no point in getting attached to Grayson. The minute he finds out what I do, he’s not going to want anything to do with me. After a shower, I throw on a pair of worn jeans, a black singlet top, and my black ankle boots. I brush out my hair and tie it up in a ponytail. I go makeup free as usual, wearing only a tinted moisturizer. Walking out of my room and into the kitchen, I see Anaya has stayed over at her boyfriend’s place again. I make some toast and Vegemite, eating one piece in the kitchen, and taking the other with me as I walk out the front door. My phone vibrates with a message as I’m almost to the library. I pull it out of my bra where I had slid it in for safekeeping and check the message.

See you tonight/  Pls msg me your address so I can come and pick you up.

P.S. Wear something casual.

Grayson. I smile, and finish my toast, before I reply with my address.

So, I guess I’m really doing this. There’s nothing to say I can’t have a casual relationship with someone, right? Grayson doesn’t have to know that I work the pole two to three nights a week. I hate the thought of being dishonest, but there’s no way around it. No way in hell am I telling him that I’m a stripper. That I take my clothes off and give lap dances for money to pay my debt and bills. The minute he finds out, he will lose all respect for me and look and treat me differently. Just like my brother. The thought puts me in a dejected mood, and I walk into the library feeling like shit.

Worrying my bottom lip, I stare at my outfit in the mirror. Grayson said casual, so I opted for skinny jeans and a baby blue chiffon top. I hear a knock at the door, so I quickly smooth down my hair once more before I walk out of my room. Anaya beats me to the door, and I can hear her say something and then laugh. She and Grayson walk in seconds later.

“Hey,” he says, smiling with his eyes. He gives me a once-over, his dimples popping out as he grins his approval. “Beautiful.”

Anaya looks at me. “You didn’t tell me you were going on a date with Grayson,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows at me. She looks at Grayson. “You better be good to her.”

“How do you even know him,” I ask her.

She grins. “Everyone knows Grayson Mills.”

Grayson ignores her and walks toward me, pulling me into his side. “Of course I’ll be good to her. You ready to go?” he asks. I nod and say bye to Anaya. We walk outside to where his car is parked.

“No motorcycle today?” I ask, checking out his black car.

He unlocks the car doors with a click of a button and then opens the passenger side door for me. “I didn’t think that was first date material.”

I laugh. “That makes no sense at all.”

He walks around and slides into the driver’s seat. “When we’re on the bike, I can’t talk to you.”

“True, but in the car you don’t have me wrapped around you, my boobs pressed against your back,” I blurt out.

Grayson looks at me for a second, before laughing. “I’m suddenly seeing the error of my ways.”

“As long as you realise,” I add dryly, looking ahead as he pulls out and drives onto the main road. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask, playing with the hem of my top.

“Not yet, but you look perfect. Beautiful as always,” he says, flashing me a grin before looking back to the road.

“Thanks,” I mutter, blushing slightly.

“How was your day?” he asks me.

“It was okay. Just had one class. Then I did some studying at home,” I reply. “How about you?”

“I worked all day. Couldn’t wait for tonight,” he says, glancing over to see my reaction.

“Where do you work?” I ask.

He pauses for a second. “At a hotel.”

Vague. But I don’t push. Because if I do, then he can too. “Do you like it?”

He nods once. “It’s all right. When did you move here from Melbourne?”

“A week before uni started.” I snap my head to him. “How did you know I used to live in Melbourne?”

“You mentioned it,” he says.

“I did?” I don’t remember telling him.

“Yes, Paris,” he says gently, “you did.”

“Right, okay. Just before uni started,” I say.

“Do you like it here?”

I shrug. “It’s nice. Quiet. I don’t really know anyone, so I just keep to myself.”

“You know me and Anaya,” he says. “I’m sure you could make friends if you wanted to.”

If I wanted to, but I don’t. “Sure,” I reply, shrugging once more. Grayson pulls into the driveway of a huge single-storey house. When he parks the car, I open my mouth, lifting my finger in the air.

“Before you say anything, this is my house. I thought I could cook dinner for you,” he says, getting out of the car before I can reply. He opens the door for me, watching me as I hesitate. “We can go somewhere else if you like,” he says when I don’t move.

I glance at the house, a house I’d probably have to strip for the rest of my life to afford, and get out of the car. “You live here alone?” I ask him, eyeing the house once more.

“I do. My sister comes and stays usually on the weekends, but that’s about it,” he says, closing the car door and taking my hand in his. I stare down at our hands, wondering when this all happened. He squeezes my hand gently, and I lift my head to look at his face.

“What are you cooking?” I ask curiously. He chuckles and leans down to kiss me on the forehead. I instantly still as his lips touch my skin, at the casualness of his action. He notices and moves away, clearing his throat.

“More grilling than cooking,” he says, his dark eyes not leaving me.

“Steak?” I ask, perking up.

“Steak, salad, and potatoes.”

“Sounds good,” I say, and his shoulders instantly relax. I smile at him, finding it endearing that he’s trying to impress me. He unlocks the front door and opens it for me to enter. I step inside and wait in darkness, until he turns the lights on and steers me into the kitchen.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, taking in the modern marble countertop and white cupboards.

He glances around as if only just noticing. “Yeah, I guess. Here have a seat,” he says, gesturing me to the table. He opens the fridge and starts pulling out ingredients, clumsily knocking over the salt. I purse my lips, trying not to laugh.

“Why don’t I sort out the salad, and you handle the steaks?” I offer. Grayson gives me a sheepish smile and nods, looking grateful.

“You have cooked before, right?” I ask, unable to contain the suspicion in my tone.

Grayson blushes; he actually blushes. “Actually, this is my first time,” he admits, cringing. I want to laugh so hard right now, but I don’t want to hurt the man’s feelings. He looks up at me, taking in my expression. His lip twitches. “Finding this funny, are you?”

I let my laughter escape. “Oh, come on, it’s pretty funny.”

“For you maybe,” he grumbles.

I laugh into my hand. “All right,” I say, standing up and walking to the fridge. “I’ll handle the sides, you handle the meat.”

He smiles at my choice of words and shakes his head at me, his dark brown hair flopping around his face, and his dark eyes dancing with amusement. He steps closer to me, and a gasp leaves my mouth as he grips me by the hips. “Is this okay?” he asks softly. Is it okay? I shouldn’t be here, yet I want to be, more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.

“Yes,” I reply, nodding as I say it.

“Good, I’m glad you came,” he says softly.

So am I. I am really freaking happy I came tonight. I’m about to tell him so when he puts his index finger against my lips. He stares into my eyes, dark connecting with light, and leans forward slowly. Moving his finger away, he replaces it with his soft, full lips. My eyes flutter shut. The kiss is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. His lips move against mine, demanding yet gentle. His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer to him. My own fingers find his muscled back, digging slightly. When he pulls back, I’m left feeling flustered. Off balance. I swallow hard and clear my throat. I can still taste him on my lips, leaving me wanting more. Grayson tilts his head, silently studying me. His eyes are warm, and I think I see a flash of puzzlement in them, masked almost instantly. He kisses me once more, this time on my forehead. “I promised you dinner.”

“You did,” I reply breathlessly.

He smiles, dimples out in full effect. “We better get to it then.”

I nod, feeling bereft when he moves away. “Okay.”

The steaks ended up a little burnt. Okay, maybe a lot burnt.

It was the best meal I’d ever had.

Justin adjusts himself once more, clearly enjoying the show. I hate doing the private lap dances. Hate them. I’d rather be on stage. A private lap dance feels much more personal, and unlike when I’m on stage, I can see the person’s eyes on me.

Justin is a regular here; he comes in at least once a week. He pays me for a lap dance each time. I turn my back to him, an excuse not to look at him, and seductively swing my hips. I lift my hair off my neck, and then pull the string of my barely there halter top. I reach behind my back to pull off the last string holding my top on my body. It falls to the floor, my nipples peaking due to the cool air. I inwardly wince and turn to face Justin. He licks his lips, his gaze stuck on my breasts. You’d think he’s never seen a pair of them before. I continue to dance, moving to the beat of the music. It’s almost mechanical, each move done so many times before, I don’t even have to think about it. The song finishes, and my time in my private booth is over.