new lock until Amjad stepped in and unlocked it, and presented me with the new key.
And a small piece of paper. "My number and my address," he said, folding my hands over the paper. His touch was warm and comforting. "Please. Take it. You need friends here."
"Thank you."
* * * *
He was correct. I needed friends. My IT company had trusted me with developing its Europe sales, providing business-to-business infrastructure tools. So here I was, transplanted from America to England and still just finding my feet. I think I'd have been more at home in France. At least I knew they were going to speak a different language. Here, they used words but half the time I hadn't the first clue what they all meant.
I felt very alone.
I missed Andrew right away, too, and regretted what I'd said to him. But I couldn't shake my fear that his dominant tendencies were going to become like his father's bullying nature. Where did BDSM stop and unhealthy control start? I really didn't know enough. Did Andrew? I wasn't sure.
It was early evening but I was too shattered to do anything but run a bath. While the water thundered from the stupidly separate faucets I flicked on my netbook. (WHY couldn't they have a mixer like every other civilized nation in the world? The options were to freeze or to burn. Jeez.) I scrolled through the latest happenings on social media.
Moping around wasn't my style. Never was. I was actually a little appalled at myself. I needed to pick myself up and get on with things! Was the gray London weather going to make me as dull and limp as the stereotypical Brit? Maybe it wasn't their fault. Maybe it was all down to the weather!
No, not me. I was going to put my Big-Girl-Panties on, and get things done .
Steam was billowing out the door of the bathroom so I went through and switched the water off. When I came back out into my living room, Facebook had loaded up with its usual list of notifications. I perched on the arm of the couch, and scrolled quickly through.
It soon became obvious that all my "friends" were work colleagues and not one of them had noticed I'd been quiet online for the past few weeks. Even Carlee, my oldest and closest girlfriend, had been quiet since I'd left the States. I knew she was pleased about my promotion.
It was only just occurring to me that she might be jealous, too.
My sadness returned. Still, I told myself, I wouldn't be stuck here in London for ever. My old friends were fairly shallow connections, and there wasn't any point making new friends.
I slammed the netbook closed, and slid into the bath, and wished I'd made some better decisions in the past.
Chapter Two - Jas
Monday rolled around and I got stuck into my work again. Men were a distraction, I repeated to myself. I had to drum up a few million dollars' worth of business and the thought of that task excited me. It would have made others quiver in fear, and that it why it was me here now, and not them.
My rise in my company had been ruthless and stellar and I didn't give a flying fuck what anyone thought of me. They'd have said I "acted like a man" except no one was stupid enough to say that - at least, not to my face.
I crisscrossed London, with three presentations to give that day, and a whole heap of follow-up work to do while I was riding in cabs from place to place. The buzz got my heart beating again.
My cheek was blooming with an enormous bruise; I'd layered on foundation that only just covered it, and explained it away with a breezy comment at my own clumsiness. When the memories slid back - Leonard hitting me, Andrew not hitting me - I grabbed the next task on my to-do list and worked those memories away.
I grabbed a takeaway on my way back to my apartment. I'd been warned that British food was revolting, and I had made an early mistake when I'd tried something called a "pork pie", bought from a gas station. However there was a great range of world foods and tonight I was indulging in a Geng Kheaw
And a small piece of paper. "My number and my address," he said, folding my hands over the paper. His touch was warm and comforting. "Please. Take it. You need friends here."
"Thank you."
* * * *
He was correct. I needed friends. My IT company had trusted me with developing its Europe sales, providing business-to-business infrastructure tools. So here I was, transplanted from America to England and still just finding my feet. I think I'd have been more at home in France. At least I knew they were going to speak a different language. Here, they used words but half the time I hadn't the first clue what they all meant.
I felt very alone.
I missed Andrew right away, too, and regretted what I'd said to him. But I couldn't shake my fear that his dominant tendencies were going to become like his father's bullying nature. Where did BDSM stop and unhealthy control start? I really didn't know enough. Did Andrew? I wasn't sure.
It was early evening but I was too shattered to do anything but run a bath. While the water thundered from the stupidly separate faucets I flicked on my netbook. (WHY couldn't they have a mixer like every other civilized nation in the world? The options were to freeze or to burn. Jeez.) I scrolled through the latest happenings on social media.
Moping around wasn't my style. Never was. I was actually a little appalled at myself. I needed to pick myself up and get on with things! Was the gray London weather going to make me as dull and limp as the stereotypical Brit? Maybe it wasn't their fault. Maybe it was all down to the weather!
No, not me. I was going to put my Big-Girl-Panties on, and get things done .
Steam was billowing out the door of the bathroom so I went through and switched the water off. When I came back out into my living room, Facebook had loaded up with its usual list of notifications. I perched on the arm of the couch, and scrolled quickly through.
It soon became obvious that all my "friends" were work colleagues and not one of them had noticed I'd been quiet online for the past few weeks. Even Carlee, my oldest and closest girlfriend, had been quiet since I'd left the States. I knew she was pleased about my promotion.
It was only just occurring to me that she might be jealous, too.
My sadness returned. Still, I told myself, I wouldn't be stuck here in London for ever. My old friends were fairly shallow connections, and there wasn't any point making new friends.
I slammed the netbook closed, and slid into the bath, and wished I'd made some better decisions in the past.
Chapter Two - Jas
Monday rolled around and I got stuck into my work again. Men were a distraction, I repeated to myself. I had to drum up a few million dollars' worth of business and the thought of that task excited me. It would have made others quiver in fear, and that it why it was me here now, and not them.
My rise in my company had been ruthless and stellar and I didn't give a flying fuck what anyone thought of me. They'd have said I "acted like a man" except no one was stupid enough to say that - at least, not to my face.
I crisscrossed London, with three presentations to give that day, and a whole heap of follow-up work to do while I was riding in cabs from place to place. The buzz got my heart beating again.
My cheek was blooming with an enormous bruise; I'd layered on foundation that only just covered it, and explained it away with a breezy comment at my own clumsiness. When the memories slid back - Leonard hitting me, Andrew not hitting me - I grabbed the next task on my to-do list and worked those memories away.
I grabbed a takeaway on my way back to my apartment. I'd been warned that British food was revolting, and I had made an early mistake when I'd tried something called a "pork pie", bought from a gas station. However there was a great range of world foods and tonight I was indulging in a Geng Kheaw
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