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  Polly was transfixed.

  ‘I may not have much,’ he continued, ‘but I still got it all up here, ‘steadnae balls down there.’ He jabbed his index finger at his temple then down into his groin.

  ‘Yeah,’ Polly replied slowly nodding her head in agreement.

  He gave her a big cheesy grin. The few teeth he did have were black, and bloodstained around the gum. He thought for a moment, then said, ‘Come over here, I got something to show you, girly.’

  He turned round and took a few steps towards the trees before leaning forward slightly to fiddle with something. Polly eagerly followed.

  She was standing directly behind him when he turned round.

  ‘Get some of this, girly,’ he shouted.

  He’d opened up his trousers and had his penis and balls hanging out of his fly.

  ‘Go on, suck it,’ he said.

  Polly turned and left.

  Sixteen

  At any other time in her life the incident with the tramp would have unsettled Polly, but not now. It made her more determined than ever. She chose to ignore his little indiscretion right before she left. He had a point. She wanted him, she knew that; why hold herself back? The connection between them was like nothing she’d ever felt with anyone before. The very thought of him made the ache in the pit of her tummy grow and grow unbearably.

  She had butterflies when she entered Notting Hill Gate tube station. She waited near the mouth of the tunnel so she could see which carriage he was in as the train rushed past. She found him in the very last one. The train was empty this far back. He was the only person in the carriage.

  He grabbed her the second she boarded. He pushed her up against the clear panel next to the seats and started clawing at her top. He nuzzled into her neck then used his tongue to lick up over her jaw to her mouth. He kissed her hard. His mouth was cool and fresh and his lips juicy, like biting into a ripe peach. She momentarily surrendered herself, her hands slipping on to his waist then running up the sides of his body pulling him closer. She’d been longing for this moment, everything about it felt right. But then she stopped herself. She wanted to talk first. She let go of him and tried to move away.

  He ignored her and carried on kissing her. She pulled away from him, turning her head to the side. ‘I want to tell you something,’ she said.

  He put his hand on the side of her face and pushed it back to where it had been. Polly resisted against his hand: she really wanted to talk. He paid her no attention and carried on kissing her cheek before his tongue made its way into her ear.

  ‘I was thinking … ’ she started. She stifled a giggle as he tickled her ear. ‘I was thinking, maybe we could go somewhere else.’

  He stopped, pulling back to look at her. He had a serious look on his face. She suddenly wished she hadn’t said anything.

  After a moment, a smile broke across his face.

  Relief.

  ‘Like last time, in the corridor.’ He moved in close again, reaching for the back of her neck with his hand. ‘Did you like the people walking by as we fucked? Sure, we can do that again, but let’s finish up here first.’

  ‘No, no, that’s not what I mean,’ she said, stopping him with her hands on his stomach. He had on a flimsy cotton T-shirt; she could feel sculpted muscle underneath. ‘Maybe we could go to a hotel, or maybe … ’

  She stopped talking when his face suddenly changed.

  ‘Or maybe what?’ he asked.

  She knew not to answer.

  ‘My place? “Or maybe your place”? Is that what you were going to say?’ He had a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  Polly looked back sheepishly then slowly nodded.

  He sighed heavily. ‘I’ve already explained what’s going on here, right?’

  They both stayed silent, him eyeing her angrily, Polly with her head bowed.

  Eventually she dared to look up at him. He was still staring at her, but his brow had started to smooth out. ‘Look,’ he said, placing his hand on her cheek and then running it down to cup her chin, ‘I love hooking up with you, but, if you think this is something more than it is, we’ll have to stop.’ He dropped his hand and shrugged, resigning himself to the notion.

  Polly panicked. ‘No, no, don’t do that. I get it, I totally understand what this is.’ She grabbed his hand and put it back on her cheek. She held it there.

  He didn’t do anything for several seconds then he stroked her face with his fingertips. She responded immediately, moving in closer to him. The warmth of his hand on her skin penetrated every part of her.

  ‘You’re a very sexy woman,’ he said.

  No one ever called her a woman, she was always referred to as a girl – Oliver, her dad, James, even the tramp had called her girly – but not him.

  ‘I feel a connection with you,’ he continued.

  He felt it too.

  ‘And I love watching you with the others.’

  ‘You watch?’ Polly was taken aback.

  ‘Of course. @44oro, right? I know exactly where you are and who you’re with.’

  The thought made her ache even more.

  ‘I love watching your face when they touch you.’ He pushed his body into hers.

  Polly’s breath caught in the back of her throat.

  ‘You try so hard to keep it all in, don’t you? Try so hard to hide it from everyone around you.’ His hands ran down between their bodies to the tops of her thighs. ‘But I know. I see it in your eyes, I see it in the way you move your mouth. I can tell exactly what they’re doing to you.’ He put his hand flat against her crotch and began slowly moving it up and down.

  She exhaled loudly, feeling as if she could fall down right behind the breath.

  ‘I know you. I know what you want.’ He suddenly stopped and let his fingers slowly tiptoe up to her belly button. ‘Even if you don’t, I know exactly what you need.’ His fingers continued up until they reached the buttons on her dress. He slowly began undoing each one in turn. ‘Do you want me to show you?’ He looked deep into her eyes.

  She stared back, completely lost in him. ‘Yes,’ she replied.

  ‘But you need to trust me. You do trust me?’

  ‘I trust you.’

  He leant in to kiss her.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she asked, right before his lips touched hers.

  ‘No names,’ he replied as his hands slipped into her dress.

  ‘I want to tell you my name,’ she said, her eyes closing as she dropped back against the panel.

  ‘No names,’ he said.

  The train rattled through the sprawl of Greater London, emerging from the tunnel just as the sun was setting.

  Seventeen

  As she set off to the next meeting Polly felt eager to please. The thought that he might be watching was enough.

  When she saw her partner, though, she felt a little disappointed. The man was much older than anyone she’d met before, in his sixties. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be into tubing. He looked soft and cuddly, more like someone’s grandad. He’d been waiting beside the door. She’d glanced at him as the train was pulling up, but hadn’t for a second thought it was him. There was something vaguely familiar about him; she felt she’d seen him before, but couldn’t place him. It unsettled her and she immediately turned to leave. She wasn’t going to do it this time.

  But he was on her before she had a chance to go anywhere. The text message had said to wear a pink top and skirt with no knickers, so he knew who she was straight away.

  He made it very clear what he wanted. He grabbed her from behind and pushed her through the crowded carriage to the corner. Several commuters tutted as they banged into them. Polly smiled apologetically, embarrassed. Once in the corner, he shoved her against the empty corner seat. He ripped up her skirt and tried to push himself into her from behind.

  Polly was horrified. She tried to push him back, but he leant over her, grabbing her wrists and pinning her down with his body weight. He thrust himself at
her, trying to force his way inside. Sweat started beading down her forehead as panic set in. She tried to buck her body backwards to make him stop, but it didn’t make any difference, he was too strong.

  She couldn’t believe what was happening to her. He had her trapped. Then it suddenly dawned on her where she was. Why the hell was she putting up with this? She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. She looked around; several people were looking over to see what the commotion was but only their faces were visible, they couldn’t see what he was doing to her hidden under the sea of bodies around them. How would she explain herself? They’d think she was being raped by a stranger; how could she possibly admit that she’d gone into the situation willingly? The police would be called, and then the man would show them the online messages …

  She turned her head back towards him. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want to do this.’

  He ignored her.

  ‘Stop it,’ she said a little louder.

  He grunted as he let go of one of her wrists and pushed into her harder.

  ‘If you don’t stop right now, I’ll scream this fucking place down,’ she said just loud enough for the couple to their left to hear.

  He let go of her immediately. She felt him fumble his flies closed behind her. He leant in close to her ear. ‘Frigid cunt,’ he spat. His breath was caustic.

  She waited until the doors opened and shut again. Only when she was sure he was gone did she allow herself to move, and the second she did she began to shake uncontrollably. She steadied herself, reaching out for the small bench seat in front. When she felt in control again, she turned round and sat on the seat, taking slow, deep breaths.

  She could feel the couple next to her staring. As much as she didn’t want to, she turned to look at them. The girl smiled at her, ‘You all right?’ she mouthed.

  Polly forced a smile while her insides crumbled.

  She managed to keep her composure all the way home. It was only when she reached her road that tears broke.

  As she walked up the stairs to the flat she could hear voices. There was a sudden burst of haughty laughter. She recognised it instantly. It was Charlotte. She leant against the stairwell wall and closed her eyes. If she had anywhere else in the world to go right now …

  After a couple of minutes of telling herself that everything was OK, she managed to calm down. She forced a smile on to her face and slipped her key into the lock. Once inside, she dropped her handbag next to the front door and threw her keys on top of it.

  Oliver heard her immediately.

  ‘Pol,’ his voice came booming from the lounge. ‘Look who’s here.’

  Charlotte poked her head round the door.

  ‘Hi,’ said Polly softly as she made her way into the room.

  ‘Hello,’ said Charlotte curtly.

  ‘We’ve been waiting for you. Charlotte thought we could all go out for a drink. Bit late now, though,’ Oliver continued. He shook his hand until his watch fell down over his wrist so he could see the time. ‘I thought you’d be home straight after work.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Polly. They both continued to stare at her. ‘Sorry, I had to stay late,’ she answered.

  Oliver came over and put his arm around her. ‘On a Friday? I thought you office bods were all in the pub by four o’clock on a Friday. I’ll have to have a word with that boss of yours.’

  ‘No, don’t do that,’ she said, her voice rising.

  ‘I’m only joking,’ he said smiling. ‘Are you OK? You look as if you’ve been crying.’

  ‘Hay fever,’ Polly lied.

  She sat down on the sofa next to Charlotte. Oliver made banal conversation about the hot weather and the roadworks that had started just outside the flat. Neither Charlotte nor Polly spoke. Polly was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that it took a couple of minutes to notice that Charlotte was silent. She was usually the one in charge of the conversation. She turned to look at her. Oliver’s sister was staring straight at her.

  Charlotte held the stem of her wine glass between her fingertips. It was half full of red wine. She lifted it to her mouth and drained it in one. ‘Can I have a refill, Oliver?’ she asked without taking her eyes off Polly. ‘And perhaps Polly would like one too. She hasn’t had a drink yet.’

  Oliver jumped up, ‘Of course, of course.’ He bumbled his way into the kitchen.

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Charlotte turned to her. ‘Is something wrong, Polly?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You look upset.’

  ‘Hay fever, like I said.’

  ‘Hmm,’ she pondered. ‘You weren’t very well the last time I saw you, either.’

  Polly didn’t need this. She wanted to be on her own, not getting the third degree from Charlotte.

  ‘It’s nothing, really.’

  ‘Oliver tells me you’ve been very busy lately, says he’s not seen very much of you.’

  ‘Really?’ Polly was surprised he’d noticed. She’d thought she’d been doing a pretty good job of hiding her absences.

  ‘Yes, says you’re out and about a lot these days. He had words with me about keeping you out so late last time we met up for dinner.’

  Polly’s heart started pounding in her chest.

  ‘Funny thing is,’ Charlotte said, crossing her legs then smoothing her skirt, ‘as far as I can remember, you were gone by half-ten – something about stomach pains.’ She looked up, a smile dancing on her lips. ‘But he tells me you didn’t get in until two in the morning. I can’t imagine what you were up to until then.’

  At that moment, Oliver came back into the room carrying two glasses of wine.

  ‘Red for you, Charlotte, and rosé for Polly.’

  Charlotte let out a snort as Polly took her glass.

  ‘What are my two favourite girls talking about, then?’ he said as he sat back down in his seat.

  ‘You,’ Charlotte replied, letting out a giggle. ‘You’re all we ever talk about, Olliepops.’

  Polly held her breath. It felt as if the blood were draining from her body.

  Once she’d said her piece, Charlotte was back to her usual gregarious self and Polly was forgotten into the background. Charlotte was chatting about someone Oliver knew from back home. Charlotte had bumped into him when she was out with a friend. She talked excitedly, becoming animated as Oliver egged her on. She was telling him about how the guy had sidled up to her when she was at the bar. He’d given her a line about having fantasised about her when they were kids.

  ‘What did you say?’ Oliver asked.

  ‘I told him I had no idea who he was.’

  Oliver laughed.

  ‘I’m not about to get involved with a prick like him, honestly.’

  ‘Be careful, Charlotte, you don’t want to end up a lonely old spinster.’ He said the last bit in a posh lady’s voice. Polly guessed it must be an impression of their mother.

  ‘Don’t you start.’

  Sister and brother were both smiling at one another, locked in their private joke, then Charlotte turned and looked Polly up and down as if she’d forgotten she was there, her smile disappearing. ‘Anyway, I’d better get going.’

  ‘You don’t have to. Why don’t you stay over? I’ll open another bottle.’ He got up and started making his way to the kitchen.

  Charlotte paused for a moment, contemplating the idea, then stopped herself. ‘No, no, I really must go.’ She got her things together, ready to leave. She gave Oliver a kiss on each cheek, leaving faint lipstick marks behind. Polly was still seated; she moved to get up but Charlotte insisted she stay put. She leant down and air-kissed her right cheek, then moved to the left, but instead of kissing her she whispered, ‘Be careful, Polly, you’re playing a very dangerous game.’ As she pulled away, she couldn’t hide the smug grin on her face.

  Polly remained bolt upright while Oliver left the room to see Charlotte out. What the hell was she talking about? For a split second it crossed her mind that she knew about him, about the tubing, but ho
w was that possible?

  ‘Well, that was nice of Charlotte, wasn’t it?’ Oliver said when he came back into the room. He plonked himself down beside her on the sofa.

  ‘What?’ replied Polly, propping herself up and slipping her hands under each thigh to hide their shaking.

  ‘She stuck around all this time waiting for you to get home. It’s great to see you two getting on so well.’

  Polly was in a state of flux. What was Charlotte playing at? Clearly she hadn’t said anything about her leaving dinner early that night, but why not? She couldn’t imagine Charlotte doing her any favours, especially where Olliepops was concerned.

  Polly’s back was already up when Oliver reached over to put his arm around her. She flinched and tried to move away. He leant forward, his arm chasing her.

  ‘Get off,’ she said, the words out of her mouth before she had a chance to think. After what had happened on the train, she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone touching her right now. Oliver tutted, but continued anyway.

  Did no one listen to her? She remembered the guy on the train pinning her hands down to the seat in front.

  ‘Fuck off,’ she shouted jumping up from the sofa. ‘Are you deaf? When I say no, I mean no.’

  ‘Polly!’ he said, shocked. ‘What is your problem? You’re like a sullen teenager these days.’

  To her relief, he pulled away and got up off the sofa. Her fingers were immediately on her lip, searching for any loose bits of skin to pick at. She remembered the gnat bite she had on her leg. Her hand went to it immediately, her nails tearing at the edges of the scab.

  He busied himself clearing up his and Charlotte’s wine glasses. ‘I never know where I am with you at the moment,’ he continued. ‘When you come home, I don’t know whether you’re going to be in floods of tears or skipping through the front door.’

  She sat quietly, concentrating on the scab. Once she had a nail under the edge she ripped it off in one go, letting out a sigh as blood seeped under her fingernail. He took her silence as an invitation to keep going.

  Just then Polly heard her phone. Oliver was still talking, but she paid him no attention and went to the hallway to get her handbag.