That Filthy Book Read Online Free PDF Page B

perfumes, hairsprays and deodorants from the hundred or so people standing or sitting around—and I breathed through my mouth to combat the overwhelming smell. Music blared from hidden speakers, some modern tune I’d heard on the radio last week, and I felt so alive, so with it, that I almost gave a beaming smile. Another frisson of excitement plundered through me, my belly clenching and a bubble of expectancy waiting to pop in my throat.
    It was happening. The fantasy that had been hidden within the pages of a shamefully dirty book was becoming my reality.
    I ignored lurid glances from a group of men who lounged at one corner of the bar, their stares giving me an unexpected boost of confidence. I was still desirable, still worth a look, and for a moment I felt foolish for being so pleased about that. A brief thought of them coming over and asking if I wanted a drink brought a shudder of revulsion, though. Since I’d met Jacob, other men just hadn’t entered my mind. Besides, they wouldn’t approach me, I knew that. I was just being fanciful.
    One of the barmen, an aged fellow with tufts of coarse grey hair at his temples and none on his shiny head, took my order for a large glass of white wine, a denture-ridden smile transforming his wrinkled face. I wondered what he saw every night and what he thought about it. People meeting for illicit trysts. Obvious extra-marital affairs. Drunk men gaining bravado from alcohol, trying to pull women so obviously out of their league. Women, legs like elastic from too many alcopops, hoping their knight in shining armour would notice them and sweep them off their feet.
    I had my knight. I had my castle. I just wanted a little enhancement.
    The barman turned away and walked to the wine cooler, getting in the way of another, much younger man who bustled around getting drinks for a gaggle of twenty-something women down at the other end. They shrieked at a joke one of them had told, and I recalled nights I’d spent out with the girls in my university days.
    I didn’t miss them.
    I returned my attention to the old man, and as he poured I took in my surroundings, wondering where Jacob was. He’d hidden himself well, then, would watch me as planned until my drink was nearly gone and then he’d show himself.
    The wine, when I took a gulp, was cold and crisp on my tongue and gave me something to do while I threw surreptitious glances about the place. The men on the corner leered some more, but rather than please me this time it made me a little uneasy. Jacob still wasn’t in plain sight, and I could only hope he was watching them, keeping an eye on the situation. One of them stared a bit too hard for a bit too long, and as a blush crept into my cheeks, I turned away.
    My glass of wine had suddenly become an interesting study.
    I sipped, awareness of being watched prickling my skin. It wasn’t meant to be the eyes of other men—only Jacob—and the unpredictability of my plan, the thought of it going wrong, hadn’t entered my head until now.
    Wine almost gone, I searched the pub with my gaze for the one man who mattered and finally spotted him standing behind the crowd of men at the corner. He glared through the space between a black-haired beefcake and a blond wiry guy, his face hard, mouth set in a grim line.
    The game was on.
    I tossed the remainder of my drink down my throat and left the pub, the shock of cool air adding to the buzz of adventure shuddering through me. A few metres ahead lay the dead-end alley between two buildings we’d agreed on, and I checked behind me so the next act could begin.
    Jacob wasn’t there.
    Come on! Where are you?
    I slowed, head bent, and wondered why he’d deviated from the plan. He was supposed to be right behind me, making it clear he had been tailing me since we’d left the hotel. I was meant to make my mouth into an ‘O’ of shock, whimper, and rush down the alley to get away from him.
    A quick flash of footsteps sounded behind me, and I