Just when I’d thought I couldn’t feel any more guilty. I knew it was my fault. I’d been off work all week, and Liv was having to do double-duty, and then some, knowing Max.

‘I’m sorry, Liv,’ I said. ‘I’ll sort the fireplace, and I’ll come into work tomorrow morning. I can’t make the afternoon, I’ve an…appointment.’ I couldn’t bring myself to tell her I was going to see Kitty’s agent. I still couldn’t believe he thought I was worth bothering with.

‘Forget the fireplace,’ Liv said. ‘And I can handle the Flintmeister – no worries. Listen, I’ve got another gig tonight, if you want to come along.’

‘Um…yeah,’ I said. ‘Maybe.’

‘Definitely.’ Liv’s tone was firm. ‘Just no…you know.’

‘No,’ I said, doubtfully. ‘Of course not.’

‘Good.’ She sounded satisfied. ‘See you tonight, then.’

She hung up, and I stood there, staring at my phone. Could I trust myself to go out again, after the last two disastrous attempts? I knew she was trying to make sure I wasn’t sitting in, brooding, but maybe I was safer indoors.

Even as the thought crossed my mind, I thought of Leo. He might come round again while Liv was out. In which case, I’d be safer out with other people. I couldn’t believe I had to think like this about a guy I’d shared my life with for the last seven years, but it did seem like it had come to this. I was going to have to go to Liv’s gig.

I still hadn’t even got dressed. I went upstairs to have a shower, but ended up lying down on the bed. I felt exhausted. Everything was getting on top of me, and I needed to escape – even if just for a few minutes. I pulled my PJ bottoms down and lay back, moving my fingers down and around my clit. As I began to massage it and to get turned on, I relaxed into it and slipped into my dream world.

This time, my thoughts were less focused than usual, and they drifted between two different scenarios, each involving one of my previous nights out. In the first, I was being used in a hotel room by the guys from the F Bar. In the other, I was in the backpacker’s bar again, sitting on Chris’s lap, with the Australians gathered all around me. I had Stef’s cock in my mouth, and Chris was toying with my nipples, tweaking and twisting them until they became hard and tight through my jersey. He put his hands to the bottom of it, pulling it up and up until they sprang free of the fabric. Immediately, a couple of the other Aussies moved in on me, sucking at my breasts, as I continued to suck on the firm warmth of Stef’s cock.

Chris had lost out on my breasts now, so eagerly were the other guys devouring them. His hands slid around, instead, to the front of my jeans, popping open the button, before unzipping the fly all the way down. He began to push them down towards his legs, exposing my bare ass cheeks. Then he lifted me up, so the two guys sucking on my nipples could pull them down across my hips, my knees and, finally, my ankles.

At the same time, Stef bent over and lifted up the bunched fabric of my jersey, before yanking it forcefully up over my head. He dragged it from my arms, throwing it into the sawdust, strewn across the floor. I had no underwear on, and I was now naked in the middle of a pack of aroused Aussies. Those remaining pressed in around me, pulling at my breasts and running their beer-soaked hands all over my bare skin, sending shivers of anticipation through every nerve in my body.

Instead of being content to ravage me there and then, Stef pulled me to my feet, and I was dragged over to the stage. It was empty, with only spotlights shining down upon it, and the guys picked me up bodily and passed me to others, already clambering up into the lights. The bar was crowded, and people stood all around, witnesses to my public degradation. No one tried to stop them. Rather, they applauded as I was laid down on the cold, hard boards of the stage, and my legs spread wide, an open invitation for anyone to take me.

It wasn’t until the first guy loomed above me, unbuttoning his fly ready to begin my disgrace, that I became some other, faceless woman, and the guy above me turned into Leo.

I sat bolt upright, panting not with excitement, but with shock and disappointment. I felt humiliated, just not in the way I wanted. Leo had disgraced me in quite another way and, even though we were no longer together, he owned my fantasies now. I felt like crying all over again.

I took a shower, scrubbing at myself as if trying to wash away my misery. By the time I finally opened the door of the shower cubicle, I knew I wasn’t going to Liv’s gig that night. I was too angry and, worse, too frustrated. I couldn’t trust myself to behave, any more than Liv could.

I stood there, dripping wet and naked, looking at my body in the mirror. I knew that, given half the chance, I’d have men’s hands running all over it, their tongues and cocks pushing into it wherever and however they desired. It was partly to get back at Leo, I realised, but more so because I honestly believed I’d enjoy it. I’d spent years being a good girl, and it had got me nowhere. I was all too ready to surrender to my fantasies.

But what if it went wrong? I remembered Mr Arrogant’s words. Don’t end up dead in some gutter. I knew he was right. I was almost suicidally reckless at the moment, and it was a very real possibility. Even if everything went well, I could end up with some horrible disease, or worse…splashed across the tabloids again. As if I hadn’t been humiliated enough, I’d feel suicidal if my dirty desires became public knowledge.

Smug and self-assured as he was, Mr Arrogant was right and – thank God – he had my back or, at least, he’d thrown me a lifeline. I grabbed a towel from the radiator and went into the bedroom to find my phone.

    Eight

Him

‘How much longer are you planning on keeping me here?’ I asked, as I sat in the interview room. It was soulless, with blank grey walls and no outside light. A large desk in the middle, flanked on both sides with hard, uncomfortable chairs, was the only furniture. An officer stood by the door, his arms folded and an equally blank stare on his face. Another – a woman in a plain shirt and tight-fitting grey suit, complete with pencil skirt – sat opposite me, cold and unsmiling. The whole effect was as bleak as I felt.

‘Mr Flint is out of the country,’ she said, in clipped tones.

She’d introduced herself, earlier in the afternoon, as Detective Inspector Amber Brown. She was young, for someone of her rank – she could only have been in her mid-twenties – and tight-lipped. She’d probably have been attractive, if she hadn’t looked so stern.

The grin I hadn’t quite been able to suppress at her name hadn’t gone down well. I couldn’t help it, though – it suited her so perfectly. Her hair, while not exactly red, had definite tones of copper running through it, and her eyes could only be described as amber.

I got the feeling she’d said her first name by mistake. It wasn’t as if police officers usually volunteered any more personal information than they had to, and she’d seemed pissed off at the time, as if it were my fault it had slipped out.

Things had only grown worse when I’d asked her to contact Giles, confident he’d be able to ensure my speedy release. She’d left me in the room with the other officer, while she’d made the necessary calls, before returning, a satisfied look on her face.

‘Your lot always think they’re going to get special treatment,’ she said, leaning back in her chair, her fingers knit together across her stomach. ‘Well, I’ve got news for you. Anyone who beats up a defenceless woman on my patch is going to get the same short shrift in this station.’

I could’ve kicked myself. I’d known Giles wasn’t due back yet. Even Max wasn’t due back until the next day. Giles had told me as much. I’d just forgotten, with everything that had happened.