Chapter 13 Cheap Shot
Thirteen. Cheap shot
Tamara
ARGH.
It’s non-stop, never ending. The charming, the flirting, the taking care of me; it’s too much.
I’m conflicted between enjoying all of it or continuing to be a bitch and keep my distance.
The problem is, we’re living together and the only distance that exists is when we’re in our bedrooms. The rest of the time he’s everywhere I go.
I know he’s basically my flatmate, but this is ridiculous.
The boy I knew at camp wasn’t sexy. He was cute and sweet, he had floppy hair and dark brown skin from being in the sun too long.
When he smiled, the world lit up and so did I.
Our kisses were imprinted on my heart for years after he ripped it to shreds and I loved him so intensely, I didn’t know who I was without him.
Someone on the internet referred to Patrick as sex on a stick and they’re not wrong.
The floppy hair is replaced with long dark locks that are either pulled back in a manbun or loose around his shoulders; both are distracting. And he’s not cute anymore. Noooooo, Patrick’s dangerous. I’m pretty sure if I touch him, I’ll catch fire. It’s really fucking annoying.
Here’s the thing—I’m not just keeping my distance because of what happened in the past. I’m also protecting myself.
There’s no guarantee he’s going to stick around and I don’t want to get attached only to have him leave me.
Again. I don’t blame Patrick for needing time to wrap his head around the pregnancy; it took me a few days before I even told him.
But keeping us in this barely-friends situation is probably the safest thing to do.
Dr. Sunita’s going to have a field day when she finally hears all the ways I’m misbehaving.
I’d like to think she’d understand my stance and why the space is important.
It’s been twenty years and outside of a few passing thoughts, he’s never featured in my thoughts.
Being around him again should be easy—my sadness and anger would simmer and we’d be fine as acquaintances that were once in love—but I was wrong.
Knowing what he’s like as an adult really makes this difficult.
To the point where if I start a dirty dream that includes even a single one of his hair ties, I force myself awake.
It’s inconvenient and my sleep is disturbed, which is so very fun.
I walk through the main doors of my office building and remind myself to smile.
Vera’s the queen of resting bitch face and I love her for it.
I’m not sunshine, but scowling is not my thing.
So when the security’s smile fades at the sight of my expression, I realise I’m probably projecting something different.
In the crowded elevator, I close my eyes and count as far as I can while breathing slowly.
So by the time I step into the Bold Lines lobby, I’m myself again.
There’s absolutely no way I’ll let Patrick and his constant presence ruin my mood or day. Especially since I have so much to do. The receptionist greets me as I head towards my cabin, where my assistant waits with a fresh mug of hot tea.
“You’re a life saver!”
“Kumar Anna1 said you looked mad when you walked in,” she tells me and I sigh.
“My morning started off rough, but I’m okay.
I’ll apologise to him on my way out.” I unpack my laptop and iPad before taking a sip of the tea.
Meh. It’s the exact same tea leaves I use at home, but since Patrick started making my tea, it tastes better.
This is…okay. I don’t tell Pallavi that.
I appreciate the effort she’s taken to have this ready for me. “All right, walk me through my day.”
She spends the next five minutes running through my schedule and I nod along, making my own notes.
“See if I can reschedule the call with Joshi to tomorrow. There’s something I want to try with the project in Hyderabad. Was there a special request on your list?”
Pallavi blushes and nods. She’s worked with me for six years and even now when talking about my sex room clients, she’s embarrassed.
I get it. Not everyone grew up in open-minded families or experimented with their sexuality.
I was given the freedom to be whoever I wanted, even if Velliamma did have high hopes I’d be a doctor or lawyer.
“They only left their initials and an email address that seems suspicious, but they’re based in Chennai and would like to meet with you at the earliest.”
“Send me the details and I’ll get in touch with them.”
“Pavan said he’s heading back to Mumbai at the end of the week and asked if you might be able to join him.”
Two months ago, I would have accepted in an instant. Now I’m pregnant and living with the father of my child. The bane of my existence.
“Not this time. But ask him to send me updates.”
Pallavi scribbles a note and hums as she goes through the rest of her list. “Oh! Word on the street is Julia Christopher is in town and she’s looking to open a new bespoke space.”
“Seriously? Hold on, did she really say bespoke?”
“That’s the message I received, is that bad?”
I shrug and purse my lips. “Everyone uses the word for everything these days. I don’t know if any of those things are really bespoke anyway. But see if we can get a meeting with her sometime next week. Don’t want to seem too eager, but I also don’t want to miss out on this opportunity.”
“Will do. You have two meetings in the second half, both in-house. The conference room has been booked for you, but would you prefer to do it here?”
“The conference room should be fine. Thanks, Pallavi.”
“Of course.”
She gathers her things and hurries out. Minutes later, my email pings with the information for the secretive sex room client.
I type out a quick email with my offerings and hit send before I can change my mind.
It’s not every day someone contacts me about sex rooms via Pallavi, but I’m glad Aishani and Bold Lines have been supportive of this endeavour.
It wasn’t my plan when I joined the company and it was definitely not on their long list of offerings.
Hell, I didn’t know the first thing about sex rooms until I built my first one.
Even now, I’m learning new things every single day. And it’s exciting.
Kink has never been something I was interested in and despite building sex rooms, it’s still not my cup of tea.
Yes, I love sex and I enjoy having someone pressed against me.
I like the desperate way people hold onto each other in the throes of pleasure.
There’s something about the weight and softness of another body against mine, but it’s not about kink.
I don’t mind exploring positions and trying new things, but using the equipment I order for customers has never been my thing.
That’s not to say I’ve never thought about it.
There was absolutely no way would have tried anything with Kabir.
In the beginning of our relationship, the sex was explosive and exciting.
At some point it got boring and then stopped all together.
I turned to romance novels and audiobooks, vibrators and watching porn to get myself off.
It worked wonders when I didn’t have to worry about someone else.
Eventually the bottom drawer of my bedside table filled up with a rainbow of silicone toys.
Between things officially ending with Kabir and my one night with Patrick there were two random encounters.
One didn’t get past drinks with my friends, the other kissed exclusively with his tongue.
Swiping on Tinder and Hinge left my vagina starved for attention and drier than Chennai during the worst summer.
So being kinky? It’s a fun idea and I’m not against learning something new. I’d prefer leaving that to the experts who I build rooms for.
In fact, I have so much more fun doing research and ordering their exclusive pieces.
I even asked a client what kink means to them and they simply said freedom.
I respect that. I know how repressed we are as a nation and if people can find pleasure and joy in doing something forbidden why shouldn’t they?
Loud pinging snaps me out of my thoughts and I find a reply from the secretive sex room client.
Dear Miss Chandy,
Your email wasn’t a YES, but I’m going to take it as one.
I assure you this isn’t a scam, I would prefer to keep my identity a secret until we’re sure working together makes sense.
I received your information from Aishani and she assures me you’re the best at what you do.
Indian by birth, I’ve lived in Europe for a good chunk of my life and I’m returning to the homeland at the end of the year.
Before I get there, I want my house to be ready.
That’s where you come in. If you have the time and inclination to do the whole place up for me, nothing like it.
But I sincerely hope you can build me a special room.
I only have a few specifications, but I’m sure you have a better idea of what will and won’t work.
What do you say? Think we might be a good fit?
K.L.
I stare at the email a little longer and shoot a message to Aishani, to double check this is someone she does know.
I add K.L to my list of potential clients and set up a reminder to email them back before the day ends.
My phone buzzes across the table and I grab it, smiling when I see texts in the group with my girlfriends—CUNTS.
We were out one night, getting completely hammered and behaving badly when someone tried to hit on Krys.
She brushed him off and flashed her wedding ring, but he didn’t take the hint.
When we ganged up on him and chased him off, he called us cunts.
It cracked us up so hard, we made it our group chat name. The name hasn’t changed in ten years.
Millie
I demand another girls’ night. Without the men this time.
Krys
I agree. I need the lowdown on hunky Patrick
Vera