The guy next to Chris was running his hand up and down my thigh now, catching my clit with every upward stroke and teasing me into a frenzy. Stef was pressing my face against his crotch, rubbing my cheek backwards and forwards across the bulge in his jeans. My tongue trailed across it as it moved back and forth. The buttons of his fly caught at it with each pass, but I hardly noticed.

The song was nearly over, but I didn’t notice. I hardly even registered it when it stopped short. Chris was still squeezing my breasts, and I could feel the warm air on my stomach as my sweater rose higher and higher.

Suddenly, Stef put his hand to the back of my head and grabbed a handful of my hair. He tugged on it, pulling my head back. I looked up into his eyes and he grinned down at me, before looking around his mates. I followed his gaze around and, when he snapped my head back to his crotch, he was fumbling at his fly with his other hand. He’d already tugged most of the buttons open and, as I watched, he delved into the opening and, hooking his thumb behind it, flipped out his length.

I just stared at it for a moment, before looking back up at him. He gave me a filthy smile and nodded down at it.

‘Come on, you little beauty,’ he said. ‘Let’s see you lick my lollipop.’

He struck me across the face with it once…twice…three times…before dragging it slowly across my lips. I put out my tongue and let the dry hardness of him run across it, back and forth before he pulled my head back and plunged himself into my mouth. At almost the same moment, I felt Chris hitch the remains of my sweater up and over my breasts, exposing my thin, lacy bra. Even through the rhythmic driving of Stef into my mouth, and the insistent stroking of the other guy’s fingers on my clit, I was aware that my bra wouldn’t be affording much in the way of cover, and that my nipples were all but exposed, but I didn’t care. It was as if my fantasy had come true, and I was loving every second of it. All other thoughts had gone from my mind. I was reclaiming what was mine, and to hell with Leo. To hell with relationships. This was all I needed. I was going to be independent from now on, and take back my fantasy, and…

‘What the hell are you doing, Grace?’

I pulled back, letting Stef’s cock spring free. There was a gap in the circle now, and Liv was standing there, staring at me aghast. The lights were coming on.

‘She just leapt off the stage,’ I heard someone say. ‘The crazy bitch.’

I looked up at Stef and then turned to Chris. Stef looked shocked and annoyed. He started to stuff his cock back into his jeans, swearing. Chris just looked guilty. He held up his hands and shook his head.

‘Hey!’ said Stef, as Liv grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet. ‘She was loving it.’

Liv dragged me through the crowded room, towards the exit.

‘She’s not herself,’ she kept repeating to people as we passed them. ‘She’s been through a lot recently.’

I wanted to argue, to tell her to leave me alone, but I couldn’t. Now I was on my feet again, I felt sick and dizzy.

‘For Christ’s sake, Grace,’ she said, as she dragged me up the stairs and out into the cool of the Islington evening. ‘You’ve got to get a grip. I know it’s been tough, but you can’t go around behaving like that…you just can’t.’

I followed her, feeling more and more nauseous by the moment. My stomach felt like a tight ball and my brain was swooshing around in my skull. I could barely take in the street, but what little I could make out, through the spinning blur of my mind, was distorted, the proportions all out of whack.

‘I…’ I said. ‘Liv…’ and I threw up, right there in the middle of Islington High Street.

When we finally got home, Liv helped me into bed. I lay there, feeling limp and washed out, the posters on the wall throbbing and spinning around me. I closed my eyes, and held my head.

‘Let this be a lesson to you, young lady,’ Liv said, in mock serious tones.

I managed a weak smile. ‘I’m sorry I ruined your gig…I don’t know what I was thinking of.’

‘Nor do I.’ Liv sighed. ‘But it can’t happen again. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ I said.

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

‘Good.’ She sounded satisfied. ‘If you need me, just holler.’

I managed a smiled and watched her leave, wondering when the room would stop whirling round and whether, after tonight, I’d be able to keep my promise.

Twenty

I hardly slept a wink all night, wondering what I was going to do. I’d driven past Rick’s on the way home, but his car wasn’t there. He wouldn’t have been stupid enough to go back there, anyway, I was sure. He might have been impulsive, but he had some sense. I woke up groggy and with a hard-on. It was when I noticed this, that I realised I’d been dreaming about Grace Anderton. I’d been lying in bed, and she was leaning over me, sucking my cock. She’d been looking up at me as she did so, her dark blue eyes focused firmly on me, and I’d been staring back at her, unable to break my gaze. That was all I could remember, and it just showed how much I’d let her affect me.

Christ, I’d never even met the girl – not really. Max hadn’t even introduced her to me – he was too pissed off at the time. Why was I obsessing over a girl I’d never even spoken to? I’d see her tonight, anyway, if my people had done their job. Jimmy Crawford, Hart’s agent, had assured them she’d be there, and I was in no doubt she would be. She was lapping up the attention. Grace Anderton, I wasn’t so sure about. She’d gone into hiding, from what I’d been able to gather, and I didn't know if even Kitty Hart would be able to convince her to break cover.

Still, at least Hart would be there. I had to keep telling myself I was doing it to protect her. She was the one who was acting recklessly, after all…shooting her mouth off about herself and her husband on all the news channels, and throwing herself at men wherever she went. She’d done it the night before – left a club in the West End plastered all over some guy or other - and the news was full of it this morning.

The way she was going, she was going to wind up less popular than her lying, cheating husband. Yes, I was doing it for Kitty Hart. The fact that I couldn’t give a flying fuck about the girl, or her big mouth, was neither here nor there. Every time I came close to admitting to myself that it was all about Grace Anderton, it sounded weird, if not stalkerish, even to me.

As soon as I was dressed, I went round to Rick’s house. As expected, Sandy was there. He wasn’t.

‘Oh yeah?’ she said, holding the door half shut against me. She was still in her dressing gown, and there was a bull terrier behind her, trying to get out, so I guessed that was why. I wasn’t sure though, looking at her hostile glare. ‘It’s you, is it?’

I couldn’t help thinking how similar her greeting was to the girl yesterday at the flat – even down to the dressing gown - and how it’d be nice for someone of the opposite sex to be pleased to see me, for a change. Of course, there were plenty of women who were always pleased to see me. At Dominion, the F Bar and the various other hotels and establishments I owned throughout the City, the girls were more than interested. Shame that didn’t do it for me. I’d had a lifetime of girls throwing themselves at me because of who I was. I’d moved on from that a long time ago.

‘He’s not here,’ said Sandy, lighting a cigarette. She’d been beautiful when she was younger. You could still see it, but now she was faded and pinched all over. ‘I thought he was with you, but apparently not.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘But I do need to see him. Urgently.’

‘Probably got himself another fancy woman.’ She took a deep drag on her fag, and leaned her head against the wall. ‘He must think I’m stupid.’