Free Beauty by Louise Mensch Page A

thrust. ‘You treat me and my friends right, and we’ll take care of you, too. No more attitude; your pussy’s opened up now . . . Oh, oh, God  . . .’ He gasped. ‘Dina! So fucking hot.’ Then he grunted, went limp and collapsed on her.
    Dina moaned in distress, tears springing to her eyes.
    ‘Yeah, you loved it,’ Edward said. He rolled off her before she could push him again.
    ‘Edward . . .’ she said, sobbing. ‘What was that? What do you know about my mom? Why are you talking about me that way?’
    She was hot, dehydrated, her head spinning from the wine. Did that happen? Did he turn into that grinning, taunting monkey, grinding away on top of her? She wanted to be sick.
    He rolled his eyes. ‘Let’s not talk . Why do girls always want to talk? I’m going to sleep, OK?’
    In seconds, he had fallen asleep, mouth open, like a large wet fish. Dina crawled out of bed and showered in her tiny stall. Then she dried off and crept back under the covers.
    Maybe she was frigid. It felt horrible, felt so wrong. What the hell was he doing? Was that just dirty talk? It was like he’d turned into someone else – someone new and evil.
    Dina’s head pounded. Hell, had she imagined it? Was she just drunk?
    At least . . . at least she had a boyfriend, a relationship. She would get to know Edward’s family – hadn’t he said that? Maybe she’d misheard him. Maybe it would get better . . .
    After a while, feeling ashamed, nasty, dirty and exhausted, the alcohol lulled her into a fitful sleep.
    Dina woke before the sun was up. She rolled over in her bed. Then she realised she’d rolled over.
    Edward was gone.
    All morning, his words rattled in her head: Popped your cherry . . . Just like your momma . . . Town slut. Dina wanted to tell herself that it was the hangover, that he never said it. But she knew it had happened. And her body, already tense and bruised, had writhed in rejection, while he laughed and kept pumping.
    She made excuses: it was some twisted fantasy – erotic talk; he would never be that way; he’d call, explain, take her to lunch with his mother. Everything would be OK.
    Dina waited for her phone to ring. It didn’t. That was weird, but she had work to do . . . Maybe he was ill. She went to the coffee shop, but none of the boys came in, none of Edward’s friends.
    By lunchtime, she was worried. She called his mobile.
    This number is not in service. Please check the number, and try again .
    ‘Hey, Dina.’ Mike was looking at her. ‘What are you doing? The books need checking from last night.’
    ‘Oh. Nothing. Sorry, Mike.’
    Dina scurried into the back office, feeling sick. She tried the number again; got the same result.
    By five o’clock, she knew something was wrong. She called the college and asked to be put through to Edward Fielding.
    ‘We have no students here of that name.’
    Hands shaking, Dina pulled out Edward’s card, the original one he’d given her. She typed up a quick email: Edward – where are you? D.
    In seconds, it bounced back to her: Mailer Daemon . Address not valid .
    Numbly, she worked through her shift. Edward . . . whoever he was had had sex with her and disappeared.
    It was as old as time, and she was just that stupid.
    Dumb waitress. Plaything. Just like Mom .
    Dina ran into the bathroom, sank to her knees and threw up. Somewhere, he was laughing at her.
    ‘Dude, you’re so full of it.’ George Linden saw a way to get his own back. ‘There is no way she gave it up to you.’
    The boys laughed. Edward looked at them – Ralph and Charlie, Gideon and Homer – he despised them, really. They were minions, who backed up the winner of the moment in the battles for supremacy between him and George. ‘Sure she did. Right on her back, legs splayed.’ He smirked. ‘Sweet little cherry, too.’
    ‘Bullshit, man. Nobody was getting shit from that chick.’
    Edward was annoyed. This was the first time anybody had called his