Just for the Rush. Jane Lark

my mouth, ‘You got the job.’ But there had been Rick at home and I wouldn’t have cheated. I’d never have let it happen before.

      I cheated. Loads… Jack would have, and the whole idea of that made my tummy backflip when it should be turning in disgust. Maybe I’d dumped Rick not so much because he was too nice, but because I was too bad. Maybe all my family and friends were right to be on Team Rick.

      When Jack’s lips lifted off mine, I rose on to my toes and captured his bottom lip with a nip. I was up for this. I wanted to be the sort of person who played. I wanted to try it. There was a rush inside me, inspired by the risk of who he was, and what he was – even though he denied it, if this went wrong, he employed me. But Jack would not even think of stuff like that, he thrived on risk. I wanted to think like him. I was up for a seven-night stand of naughty, nasty, sex.

      He smiled then let go of my hand. ‘There’s one thing we need to make a deal on before we go,’ he said as he turned and walked back to pick up his coat, before looking at me again. ‘Let’s not mention the C word, I’m really not up for that this year.’

      He meant Christmas. I laughed. ‘Deal. Me neither. We’ll make every day a normal day. ‘

      He grinned as he slipped on his coat.

      I should feel scared. All I felt was excited. This rush was amazing.

      He held my hand, which wasn’t intimate because he’d put his suede gloves on, and then he led me out of the office, setting the alarm with his free hand before closing the door.

      When we were in the lift, his free hand gripped the back of my neck and he kissed me again. The heat in my blood whizzed up to the four-chilli symbol temperature, as his tongue touched the seam of my lips. I opened my mouth. What was the point of playing shy when we’d agreed on sex already?

      The way he kissed was purposeful, adamant and domineering. I pushed my tongue into his mouth. I was not going to let him be the boss of me in this.

      When the doors opened he pulled away.

      ‘There is one thing I want to make a deal on before we go,’ I said. ‘You’re not my boss now, from this moment, until the 2nd of January. I’m giving you notice and you can re-employ me then.’

      ‘Deal,’ he breathed.

      This was crazy.

      ‘Where do you live? I’ll drive you back, then I’ll pick you up at six-thirty and we’ll go up north tonight, okay?’

      ‘Yeah, okay.’

       Jack

      Six months before – in June

      I shut the door to my office. This weekend was going to be different. Not the same old clubs and same people. I was journeying into the past.

      ‘Good luck with the reunion, Jack.’

      ‘Thanks, Em, enjoy your weekend.’

      Em and I had shared a house through the last two years of university and now we shared a business. We were polar opposites but the two of us together were the perfect blend for success. I was the insanity and ideas and she was the voice of reason and a planning genius.

      Ivy, one of the women who worked for us, was leaning on my personal assistant’s desk as I walked towards the door, telling Tina something, and her bottom was prominently aimed in my direction. She was wearing her chequered trousers; the ones that exaggerated her curves and made my groin heavy with longing.

      ‘Bye, Jack.’ Tina lifted a hand in parting.

      Ivy straightened and turned around. She had the most amazing eyes. They were a lavender colour, purple-grey, and she dyed her hair a quirky pale mauve to match them. It made the colour of her eyes a dozen times deeper.

      My diaphragm shoved all the air out of my lungs every time I looked at Ivy and those eyes. She was tall and slender but she had curves in all the places a woman should and a face that looked like something an artist would paint. Plus she had the purest ivory-white skin. Who kept their skin white these days? None of the girls I knew, but Ivy shied away from the sun and fake tan and kept her skin pure.

      I’d have put her in front of the camera in one of our adverts but I had a feeling if I did that I’d never see her again; some modelling agency would pick her up and steal her away. And the thought of not having Ivy around to look at, and get my kicks over in the day, was gut wrenching.

      But my kicks were all safe and innocent – she was with someone – and she was not the sort of girl to go anywhere near me when I had a wife. Plus Em would kill me if I tried it. And anyway I wouldn’t; Ivy was a nice girl. Too nice to treat like a throw-away.

      ‘Have a good weekend, Jack.’ She smiled at me.

      I smiled too. ‘See you on Monday – have a good one.’

      Nice, and someone else’s or not, though, every time she looked at me her eyes told me she fancied me too.

      When I rode the lift downstairs I stared at myself in the mirror, looking into my eyes. I didn’t like who I saw in the mirror any more. I was getting bored of me. This school reunion had made me do a lot of reflecting on the boy I’d been and the man I’d become.

      I changed into my leathers in the toilets on the basement floor, then lifted my hand to the security guy when I walked out.

      This used to be the part of the week I looked forward to most. Friday night. Spending the money I’d earned, showing it off to win girls.

      I preferred being at work now.

      I shoved my clothes and the shoes I’d taken off into the pannier on my motorbike. Then I straddled the machine, revved the engine and gloried in the roar and vibration between my legs. I rode it out of the car park with a good feeling about going to do something different this weekend.

      It was a warm night. The sky was pure blue. I dodged through the traffic, weaving in and out, avoiding the queues, unless I saw a police car and then I waited and queued with the rest, my feet on the floor as the engine rumbled between my thighs.

      I loved the bike. I loved the anonymity of being behind a helmet and the freedom of speed. But it was getting out of the city on it that was the best. Then I could speed, especially in the middle of the night when hardly anyone else was around.

      Riding the bike absorbed my thoughts and my mind needed to be absorbed in something else when I was heading home to my wife. Tonight I hoped Sharon would be out.

      I used the word ‘wife’ loosely. My marriage wasn’t really a marriage; it was more like regular sex for the investment of half my income, the cost of a penthouse and every other thing Sharon wanted.

      When the lift opened on to the top floor I owned, I sighed as I walked over to put the key in the lock. I hated coming home. I came home because this was where I lived, but the place didn’t feel like a home.

      I turned the key and opened the door. ‘Sharon!’ I called out her name because I never knew what I was walking into and I wanted to give her the chance to stop if necessary.

      I unzipped my leather suit and left my helmet on a chest by the door.

      There was nothing wrong with the apartment. The place was amazing. It would be perfect if it didn’t house Sharon.

      A part of me sulked all the time over the fact that Sharon had ruined this place for me.

      I’d got myself tangled up in something stupid with her; every room in this place was tainted by it and I didn’t know how to untangle myself from the mess I’d made.

      The place was a massive open space with three walls of glass. There was a Jacuzzi in the bathroom and a pool on the roof outside that had a view across London through another glass wall when you swam. I’d thought the place was ‘us’,