hired ✘ zayn malik

three

As she walked out of the narrow shower in the bathroom of her small apartment, Kennedy felt a strange feeling pool in her gut. It was something unfamiliar - something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Then, she stopped dead in her tracks, dropping the towel she was drying her hair with to the floor, as she realized - was it guilt?

She had left Zayn's apartment close to midnight yesterday, being so beat that she jumped straight to bed. Today, however, she had started her day with a big smile, seeing as she just fifteen minutes after waking up had taken the bus down to Oxford Circus, running along to Selfridges - not trace of makeup whatsoever on her skin, messy hair tied in an even messier, blonde bun - buying that pair of shoes she'd been eyeing for a good month now, the pair that would go perfectly with the lingerie she had bought some time ago.

Now, retrospectively, she wondered if it was worth it - shacking up with the famous, raven-haired boy. She certainly enjoyed his company. In fact, she might even enjoy it a bit too much, speaking on a professional level. Still, she was not fond of the part where she had to keep it a secret - to both her boss and her friends. Neither was she fond of the fragment of her being that reminded her that the only reason she was allowed in the company of Zayn, protruding his inner circle, was the fact that he paid her to have sex with him. To dance for him in beautiful lingerie. To tell jokes and watch movies, like they had yesterday. To keep it all a secret.

From her dainty, barely furnished living room, Kennedy heard the familiar tone that her phone made when someone rang her. Clutching her towel and running towards it, she groaned when she saw it was her boss calling.

"Kennedy speaking," she announced, once pressing the green button.

"This is Robin speaking. I've got an appointment booked for you. 11PM at The Ritz, room 432. Give your name at the front desk. You were requested by a male, a young adult, whose name cannot be said aloud. Neither can it when you leave," her boss' voice boomed through the speaker.

"Got it. Any more specifics this male requested? Colour of lingerie, perfume?" Kennedy asked. A flame of excitement was ignited within Kennedy. She was wondering who had requested her. Obviously, it was someone important. Her thoughts wandered to the possibility of it being an important businessman, maybe even a celebrity popping into London for a single night.

"No," Robin said. "However, the male was let to believe to want to proceed with sexual intercourse."

Sighing quietly to herself, Kennedy soon ended the call after that, seemingly not the slightest bit excited. Glancing at the time on her phone, she realized that had only two hours left to get ready.

Two hours later, she sat in a taxi, glancing out the window to where the droplets of rain sliding across the glass surface were coloured red, green and yellow from the roaring city lights outside. Her blonde hair was curled into perfectly loose waves, her makeup sultry around her brown eyes and glossy on the lips. She was wearing a beautiful white corset, laced and pearled magnificently, as well as the most luxurious pair of white thigh-highs. Her entire look was covered by a beige Burberry trench coat, one that matched her new, nude heels perfectly.

In her black shoulder bag, her phone started vibrating. She pulled the phone from her purse, smiling once seeing the name that lit up the display.

"Kennedy speaking," she said sensually, biting her lip afterwards to hold back her grin and the giddy laughter soon to follow.

"Hey," Zayn's voice escaped the speaker in the slowest matter. "What are you doing, beautiful?"

She dreaded telling him, yet did anyway. "I'm actually on my way to work," she said, studying her pink polished nails.

"Work? Now?" Zayn moaned complained. "But I need you."

"Yes, now," she said, giggling.

"Are you going to dance for him?" Zayn spoke, this time more serious.

"Yes."

"Nothing more, right?" Hope laced Zayn's voice.

"I can't say," Kennedy truthfully admitted.

It was silent for a while, before she heard a throaty sigh emit from Zayn. "What are you wearing?" Zayn spoke, this time his voice raspier.

Kennedy described her outfit, though in a hushed matter, seeing as the driver of the taxi would be able to hear her through the small hole in the plastic dividing them, even though he was listening to the radio in the front.

"The corset? The one with the ribbon in the back?" Zayn moaned this time, exhaling heavier than before.

"No," she said. "You haven't seen this one."

"Fuck," Zayn exclaimed. "I want to see you in it. Come over here after, yeah?" His voice was trembling, yet Kennedy knew exactly why.

A tingling sensation of lust crept up her core, goose bumps spreading on her thighs. She felt her chest and cheeks warming up as she imagined Zayn, sitting on the edge of his bed. She imagined the biceps of his arm straining against his tattooed skin as he touched himself, thinking of her. She imagined his other hand holding the phone to his ear, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and his full and pouty lips hanging open as he drew in breaths.

Kennedy didn't answer. She did not know how long she would spend with the mystery male waiting for her, nor did she want to come to Zayn's place afterwards, knowing she wouldn't look her best after an hour in the sheets of some hotel bed.

"Are you touching yourself?" Kennedy whispered, her hand cupping the speaker of her phone in front of her mouth, thighs clutching together.

"Yeah," Zayn moaned, yet again. His exhales were coming more frequent.

"I want to see," Kennedy innocently enough stated. "I wish I was there."

"Fuck, baby, I wish you were here too," Zayn hastily said, to which Kennedy closed her eyes, sighing ever so slowly. She'd much rather be with Zayn now than with a stranger. Still, she knew she had bills to pay. "I wish I had that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around me right now- oh, fuck."

"Miss." Kennedy didn't even hear the taxi driver as he was pulling over.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Kennedy said, laughing.

"You know I wou- Fuck," Zayn exclaimed, and she knew he had fallen apart. She just wished she could have been there to see, or even to bring him there herself.

"Miss."

Kennedy shot her eyes up to where her taxi driver - a sixty-something year old man - was looking at her annoyingly.

"The Ritz hotel," he said, and just then did Kennedy realize they were standing on the curb.

"Oh," Kennedy said, praying the wrinkly driver had not drawn conclusions as to what she was saying on the phone. "I'm so sorry. Look, Zayn I have to go. I'll call you later. Bye," she hastily said, shoving her phone into her purse and grabbing a twenty-pound note from her purse. "Here you are, sir," she smiled.

He grabbed the wrinkly note from her hand, and she waved over her shoulder as she stepped onto the curb - mentally preparing herself for a night in the arms of a stranger.