“Idiot,” Kat muttered, but curiosity got the better of her and she stepped out over the foul gutter onto the littered street. “There’s no shops around here,” she tutted as John unfolded out of the cab next to her.
“Over here.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and urged her to the left. They passed a row of rancid wheelie bins, a boarded up house covered in graffiti and a deep doorway with a hunched figure cocooned in a ripped sleeping bag. They came to a stop by a steel armoured door. A chipped sign read ‘Over 18’s only’.
Kat glanced at the window next to it. It was blacked out with rough strokes of thick paint and protected by solid steel railings. “What sort of shop is this?”
“The sort of shop I think you might just like, Pussy Cat.” He winked.
It made her mad when he acted all superior, like he knew something she didn’t. It was exactly how teachers and social workers had always spoken to her. Like she was missing the point, not grasping life, when she actually did. She got it better than most. Keeping her head above water was the name of the game. She wasn’t interested in the rest—that was superfluous. “Well, if there’s no Prada, I can’t see how it will appeal,” she huffed, feeling her mood tighten.
“Oh, I think it will.” He tapped his finger on the end of her nose and pushed open the door. “You just don’t know it yet.”
A tinny bell sounded as he shooed her inside. The air was musty and stale, the lighting subdued and she had to lift her feet over curled orange lino.
“Mornin’.” A deep, male voice came directly from her left.
She spun and was faced with an enormous middle-aged man. He sat by an ancient malt brown till and a grainy security screen. Sweat droplets hung on his forehead, and his shirt was unbuttoned way down low, revealing flushed red skin splattered with moles and grey curls. His eyes loitered down Kat’s shapely, exposed legs, and he swept his fat tongue over his lips.
John nodded at him and tightened the hold on her waist. He steered her past shelves stuffed with intriguingly shaped items.
“Twenty percent off lesbian DVDs today,” the obese man called in a wheezing voice.
“I’ll bear it in mind,” John replied through gritted teeth, parting a heavy bamboo curtain and pushing Kat through it.
In the next room, each of the four walls were crammed full of DVDs, all highlighted by spotlights. The spotlights made it far too warm, and Kat felt her cheeks flush. “What are we doing here?” she asked again, finally stopping her forward momentum now John had removed his hand from her lower back.
“I thought we could do with some light entertainment.” He flicked his gaze around. “There’s not much on TV we both want to watch.”
“What are you on about?” she snapped.
“Well, you clearly couldn’t stand the war film last night.”
Kat shook her head incredulously. “You brought me here because of that?”
“No.” He lowered his head to hers. “I brought you here because I want to get to know the real Kat, what really turns you on. You choose a DVD and so will I. It will be very revealing about our deepest, darkest desires.”
Kat swallowed. He was challenging her again, daring her to pick a subject. Something that would get her hot then he would nag away at it like a fingernail on an insect bite.
“You never know,” he went on. “We might choose the same fantasy and then we’ll know we were destined to be together.”
“Oh, shut up, will you? This is a business arrangement, as well you know.”
John shrugged and lifted his eyebrows.
“What’s that look for?” Kat demanded.
“Business partners don’t usually get quite as intimate as we have.”
“Have, that’s right,havein the past tense.”
He winked again, and before she could move away, he pressed a sharp kiss to her lips.
“We’ll see. I’m going to look in the front room. You start browsing.”
Kat slammed her hands to her hips and tutted. Why was he kissing her, and what the hell did he mean, ‘we’ll see’? She spun away from his retreating back; she didn’t want to look at his perfect, denim-encased rear.
Her gaze peeled over the titles in front of her.Lesbians lick Louise,Cunts that Beg, andThe Sailor’s Sperm Wailswere just a few.
She touched the frozen face of a woman on the cover of a yellow box. She had a similar look to Kat. Long black hair, generous breasts with dark nipples and green almond-shaped eyes topped with neatly arched brows. Kat moved closer. The woman was bent on all fours, and the torso of a dark-skinned man could be made out behind her. He was clutching her hips with curled fingers and was also on his knees. Whatever he was doing to her had her mouth wide open in a scream of ecstasy crossed with something that looked scarily like agony. Her eyes were wide but glazed, her tongue flat on the base of her mouth, a droplet of sweat perched in the hollow of her neck.