Chapter 3 – Hard Sell
"Don't stop," Harry wailed over and over and Dempsey's forearm fastened across her hips pulling her back on him hard as their flesh vibrated with ecstasy. The mirror above the dressing table gave them a reflected view of their lustful paroxysm, the image drawing out and extending the pleasure until Harry's cries rent the air so loudly, Dempsey was compelled to stifle them by moving his hand from her hip and instead clamping it to her mouth.
"Oh my God," she breathed at last. "That was… I don't even know what that was!"
"Loud?" he suggested and they both laughed.
Her legs were trembling and she pushed herself up from the table, allowing Dempsey to take her in his arms to face him. In the heels, she wasn't far off his height and he found this unfamiliar perspective quite appealing.
"Hey, at least if some guest reports a murder bein' committed, there's two cops right here at the scene of the crime, huh?"
"I'm sure I wasn't that bad."
He could feel her still breathing rapidly against his chest.
He just wanted to hold her tight.
"You're right, you weren't bad, you were great – spectacular in fact."
"You weren't too shabby yourself."
"Is that a compliment?"
At her current height, she was able to metaphorically look down her nose at him with something slightly closer to the literal sense than usual.
"Not yet."
"That a fact?" he asked smoothly and Harry giggled as he nuzzled at her neck, pulling her the few steps back that separated them from the bed. "Then maybe I need another shot, my aim might've been a little off."
They fell back on the wrinkled covers where they had spent only a short time actually lying down and Dempsey eased down a shiny black strap to kiss her shoulder.
It felt so good to have her in his arms, the full length of her body pressing up against his. What he really wanted was for them to fall asleep like this now but he knew she wouldn't let that happen. When they were done they were done. Harry would get up, shower and leave him all alone with his ever-dispiriting thoughts in this desperately lonely bed.
He let his eyes drift closed, his limbs suddenly heavy with fatigue and the warmth of the evening. This was nice. It felt right and normal. It was obvious to him now that what they were doing, this 'game' was far from normal. It was no longer cool, not with Harry because Harry was worth so much more than this. He'd come to realise he wanted to be with her all the time, he missed their socialising together more than he wanted the sex and in Dempsey's world, that epiphany was a powerful and kinda scary revelation.
Lazily, his hand meandered over her bare arm, the softness of her skin at the crook of her elbow bringing a smile of tranquillity to his lips. Then to her waist where the stiff boning of lace and satin highlighted and accentuated her feminine shapeliness. Drowsily, he rested his cheek against her head where the flowery herbal scent of her hair filled his nostrils.
His mind began to wander then to that crossroads place where consciousness becomes a dream-like state.
He could see her laughing, disjointed moving images that crashed in and out of focus.
Trees and grass. A flash of perfect blue sky.
And he could hear her too, only catching odd words which meant nothing in their fragmented context but she was happy, chatting with people who meandered invisibly in the background, their voices unrecognisable.
As he edged nearer towards sleep, the volume in his head increased until it all became so loud he mentally pulled away and jerked awake to find Harry extricating herself from his arms.
"Where you goin'?" he slurred, his head straining off the pillow as he followed her movements across the room.
"I think you need your beauty sleep, Dempsey," she answered him quietly, picking up her handbag and taking her dress from the wardrobe.
Although the turning of the lock on the bathroom door made only the faintest rasping sound, to Dempsey it was the echoing clank of a prison cell – and he was on the inside.
His warden came back out into the bedroom fifteen minutes later wearing the black dress, her tanned legs bare and her hair tied up in attractively messy fashion. A whiff of freshly applied perfume followed her out as she made to fetch her coat, shoes in hand and large black bag on her shoulder.
"Forgotten somethin'?" asked Dempsey, tonelessly.
Harry turned to see him twirling the black and raspberry-red scrap of flimsy fabric around his forefinger as he lay on his side watching her.
She padded over to the bed, the coat slung across her arm and, putting the shoes down, perched on the edge as she plucked them from Dempsey's outstretched finger.
"Thanks." There was caution in her voice, detecting a sullenness about him which instinctively put her defences up.
He caught sight of the rest of the lingerie that had been stuffed inside her handbag as she tucked the thong down the side, compacting it all down, hiding away their dirty secret adventures.
Rolling over, the sheet up about his waist slipped down around his hips as he reached for his trousers on the floor beside the bed.
"Think you forgot somethin' else too."
Harry was looking down, concentrating on putting on her stilettos when Dempsey took the two notes from his wallet.
"I've only got twenty but if you wanna get that little black notebook of yours out, I'll write you an I.O.U for… what, should we say another fifty-five? Does that sound about right to you? Seventy-five – that's fifty an hour?" He offered up the two ten pound notes.
"I'm sorry?" Harry looked up, her faint smile of genuine incomprehension gradually fading as what he was suggesting registered with her. She sprang up off the bed.
Even though he'd seen it coming and could have deflected it readily enough, Dempsey accepted the hard slap to his cheek with stoicism.
Pure fury lit up Harry's blue eyes. "How dare you! You complete bastard!" she spat.
Slowly, Dempsey withdrew the money, staring at what was in his hand with exaggerated puzzlement. "Gee, I'm sorry, did I get this the wrong way around? You're paying me?"
He looked up into her face, watching as the fury evolved into horror.
"Don't get those cute little panties in a twist, Princess, you know my rate's gonna be low; I'm just a cheap Brooklyn boy.
"What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to be funny?"
Dempsey was surprised to hear the crack in her voice and even more surprised by the way her chin trembled momentarily as though she was on the verge of tears.
"You see me laughin'?" he asked, coldly. "This 'arrangement' we got goin' on, how long are you plannin' for it to last? I only ask 'cause I might wanna get myself a real girlfriend in the future, y'know."
Harry turned on him fiercely. "Well you go and get yourself a 'real' bloody girlfriend then. You've got what you wanted from me – in abundance, so now we can both move on can't we?"
"Don't make out like it was me chasin' your tail!" he snarled. "That was all on you, you did all the runnin'."
Shrugging into her jacket angrily, she assured him, "Well it won't be happening again. It was a huge mistake."
"Nice, Harry, that's real nice. I'm sorry I've been such a let down but it's good to hear you admit to getting something wrong."
"Completely and utterly wrong," she confirmed. "My fault. I'd simply refused to let myself believe it was possible for your personality to be quite so emotionally stunted."
Dempsey sat bolt upright and slewed his legs over the side of the bed. "Now wait a minute, emotionally stunted? Me? This from the broad who's up, showered and outa here ten minutes after we've done the nasty! I know you got an itch to scratch, babe, but come on! If I ain't a john, I'm thinkin' I've just been back-up for a mechanical failure, here," he ranted.
"Don't pretend it's bothered you one iota. You've had exactly what you wanted off me these last few weeks in abundance – meaningless sex with no strings attached," Harry told him sharply, standing over him, her face pinched with anger.
"An' how the hell would you know what I wanted? You've never stuck around long enough to find out!" He felt at a distinct disadvantage sitting here naked on the bed whilst she looked down on him, all clean and fresh and ready to meet the world.
"Why would I when you've never shown any sign of wanting me to stay? I don't recall any soft words and tender moments, do you?" she grated. "You don't kiss me afterwards… you don't… you don't hold me… just now was…" she faltered over the unfamiliar, soul-baring words. "It never meant a thing to you, did it? Not really. It was just a relief that I never asked anything more from you than the use of our body."
Dempsey made a grab for his shorts lying on the floor and dragged them on roughly, his scowl the outward reflection of the tumultuous thunder within.
"I don't believe I'm hearin' this," Dempsey snarled, conflicting emotions tearing him up inside as her words bit. "May twelfth, Harry, that was the day you came onto me. You remember that day?"
Because he did – every heart-pumping, nerve-shredding, gloriously vital second of it...