The Calling Read Free

girls would have been enough? She’d have been better with those two: they didn’t humiliate her like this. She drew a shuddering breath, aware she wanted to ring them, pour out her pain to them. She clambered to her feet.
    They probably weren’t at home, anyway, and she’d be seeing them later, at her mother’s.
    She re-boiled the kettle, and eventually did what she always did: she acted as though nothing had happened.
     
    The sheets were clean and Michelle Whiting had even ironed them. She’d changed the bed to fresh linen especially for this. She could feel the smoothness of stretched brushed cotton under her hands and knees.
    It was weird doing it this way, as she couldn’t see Carl’s face; they couldn’t even kiss. His hands gripped her hips and he kept digging his fingers into her flesh, so she could feel little bruises formingagainst her bones. Her hair dangled over her eyes, so the ends of it swayed just above the pillow. She wondered whether she should have a trim soon, since they looked a bit straggly.
    ‘Don’t sag,’ he grunted. But her arms were aching from supporting her own weight and Carl’s, too, as he leant heavily upon her.
    ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled and arched her back, pushing herself up against him. Her mind kept wandering. This is meant to be a turn-on , she reminded herself. But it just wasn’t as sexy as she’d thought it would be. Tedious was the word that sprang to mind. The first time they’d tried it this way had been on the carpet, and the grazes on her knees had only just healed. At least this wasn’t quite so uncomfortable .
    ‘This is so good,’ she gasped.
    ‘Mmmm.’
    ‘I’ve never known it so good, Carl. Have you?’
    ‘No, no,’ he panted. ‘I can’t get enough.’
    Michelle smiled, knowing Carl was totally devoted to her, and if keeping him happy meant some of this discomfort, well, that was fine. She loved having his total attention.
    His fingers suddenly released her hips and he leant forward, pushing himself more deeply into her. The palm of his left hand slapped against the wall as he used it to support his weight.
    His thrusting became urgent and the fingers of his right hand grasped her long hair, twisting it tightly close to the scalp. His knuckles ground against the top of her head and her neck ached as it was twisted at an awkward angle.
    But she didn’t complain, instead waiting for the moment when they collapsed in a heap and would cuddle up. She hoped it wouldn’t take long now.
    Carl wasn’t thinking about Michelle’s discomfort.
    He wasn’t even thinking about Michelle at all.
    He’d started out with one of his usual fantasies: how he wasn’t a lowly van driver but a powerful tycoon, and that she was his secretary paid to do whatever he chose.
    But everything felt different today, and those thoughts weren’t enough to stem his frustration. So this time he had turned her overand hauled her up on to her hands and knees. Because he didn’t want to see her face. He didn’t want to be reminded that she was Kaye’s sister.
    Kaye, the elder and more serious sister. The more everything in his opinion.
    Kaye, the one he really wanted.
    But, before he could stop it, she was there in his head. She pulled off her T-shirt and shimmered in front of him, pale and inviting. She drew him towards her but, even in his fantasy, he knew that she’d never let him touch her.
    Because of his association with Michelle? Or because he wasn’t good enough? Or both?
    The word bitch filled his head and, as he tugged at Michelle’s hair and became more frenzied, it pounded like a chant in rhythm with his body. Bitch, bitch, bitch.
    For Carl, climax and satisfaction were not the same. Suddenly he didn’t want to touch either of the sisters.
    So Michelle now waited for a token of affection that Carl didn’t feel like giving. He didn’t even kiss her, just pulled his sweatshirt and jeans back on and said he wanted a coffee.
    Michelle straightened her bed as