Beautiful Disaster

A few hours later, Ysabella was propped back against a mound of pillows on the bed. She stared up at the textured, yellowing ceiling, trying to keep her gaze away from what laid in front of her, strew across the bed. Her legs were parted and a man which rough facial hair was between her legs, his sloppy movements making her chest heave and his large, calloused hands gripping hard around her hips. She let out soft, whispered moans when he flickered at her centre, but other than that, she was silent.

At first, the man had seemed poised, gentle... caring, even. He had been tender in undressing her, but when her body had become free as his own, there was no stopping the animalistic side to his actions; after that he had practically forced his erectness down her throat, and now, he was doing was he considered "returning the favour".
Ysabella knew that it was only to build out his own pride and confidence, and so when she deemed it was appropriate, she'd moan or gasp out in pleasure.
The only thing that truly brought her to climax was imaging it was Cam down on here – and as much as the mere thought of him hurt her, she couldn't help herself. Recalling how his hands had flipped around her most sensitive areas, his lips tugging at the skin...
Ysabella's moans got louder and more frequent now, and just as all the warmth began to accumulate in her lower belly, there was a loud wrapping at the door. At least, they both ignored it, but when a voice called Ysabella's name from the other side and the banging got louder, the man moved from between her legs, licking his sloppy lips as they pulled on their undergarments.

"Paul?" Ella blinked to the sunlight, her both raspy and her frame slumped.
She'd failed to notice he was carrying a bag of McDonalds until he was pushing past her and into the room. Immediately, he shooed the other man from the place, allowing another twenty to just slip from Ella's grasp. And she was only half way there to the ticket, and her father hadn't replied to her next letter yet...

Like the cheap motel room was his own home, Paul slumped into one of the chairs and opened up the bag of food. When the scent wafted into Ella's nose, her stomach grumbled, and she approached cautiously.

"I'm not here to fuck you, Ella," Paul told her honestly, extending out a cheeseburger, like an olive branch. "I just want to talk."
Ysabella wrapped her arms around her herself, but was powerless to just leave the burger there. Her stomach was awfully sore with hunger, her mouth parched for any sort of nourishment. She whispered, "you not know me..."
"I know," he said, extracting a large carton of fries from the bag and putting them on the table as well, "but I do know damn well that Cam would hate to see you like this, and because I'm such a good friend"-she couldn't help but notice his sarcasm-"I figure I'd take care of you while he's out of town."

Ella took a bite of her burger, and her jaw spasmed at the sudden motion. She touched the side of her face, shaking her head before replying, "Mr. Ford not care about girl."
"I beg to differ, Ella. But tell me... why are you doing something like this? Cam told me once or twice that you were a beautiful singer. Surely I could hook you up with a gig, and that'll bring you more cash than this."
Ella's brow furrowed, "hook up... gig? Giggle? I no laugh, Paul."
Paul chuckled a bit and raised an eyebrow, "where are you from, anyways, Ysabella?"
She swallowed another bite, "Middle East... country, Yemen. You not know."
"I don't know... are you trying to get back there?"
Ella nodded her head, "I hope. Family there... realize I no belong here, not with all Americans. I never find life here good, so I return. But I many hundred dollars away from ticket."
"Damn, girl," Paul blew, "you've got a long way to go then, huh?"
 
Cameron had remained on that patio for a good half hour, only listening to the chaos that reaped inside – Miranda's crying, her parents trying to assuage her, followed by questions of every variety being thrown at her in utter surprise. "You two were so good together!" or "What the hell happened? How could he break up with you?" Cameron simply listened, although he tried not to, trying to plot the perfect escape route out of this hell hole and away from all the drama that plagued his life. The news would spread soon enough from one of their mouths; it just depended who the paparazzi saw first. Cameron bit his lip, gazing up at the trees, as if asking for a silent prayer. Hell, he needed one.

"You okay, son?" a husky voice questioned, his father appearing at the door, hands shoved into his light khakis as he took a seat next to him.
Cameron closed his eyes, murmuring, "Not really, no. I feel like I just ruined my life and there's nothing at all I can do about it. Even if I did decide I made a mistake, Miranda wouldn't want me back. I don't even think she wants to be friends anymore."
"You don't love her, Cam," he responded matter-of-factly. "If you don't love a woman, you don't marry her, point blank. And I take half credit for allowing this to happen for so long when I knew you didn't like her."
Cameron arched an eyebrow. "How did you know?"
"I'm your father – believe it or not, but I'm most likely the only person that could read you like the back of my hand. Your mom probably knew to, but was so wrapped up on having one big happy family, that she lost sight of what you truly wanted."
He nodded, toying with a loose thread on his shirt. "There's someone else, dad. I didn't tell Miranda, and you can't tell anyone, not even mom, but there is."
His father nodded, "Of course, son. Whatever you saw will remain between the two of us – don't worry."
"I started developing feelings for her housemaid, dad. And, I fucking miss her. I let her go, and I feel like crap."
The older man nodded, resting a hand on his son's back. "Listen to me; I want you to get away from this house now, think about your feelings, and then decide if you want to go after this other girl. Think about the pros and the cons from a mature perspective and from your heart and I guarantee you, you'll come up with the perfect decision. Trying to handle things now in your current state, after breaking up with Miranda, isn't a good idea."
Cameron knew his father was right – he felt very strongly for Ysabella, but he needed at least a day to figure out what he truly and sincerely wanted with life. He couldn't risk hurting another woman do to his uncertainties. "Alright."
"I'll get your stuff packed and sneak you out the back. I don't think confronting family is the best thing for you right now."
He nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing. Once the man was on his feet and starting towards the door, Cameron found himself adding, "And…thanks dad. I appreciate this. I-I love you." He hadn't said the three words enough to the only person that truly understood him, and felt it was absolutely necessary right now.
The man grimly nodded, scruffing up his son's hair before replying, "Love you too. I'll be back out in five. You just sit in the car."
 
An hour later, Ysabella was puffing away at a cigarette that Paul had offered her; she was surprised at how easily the smoke slid down her throat, and how well the fumes calmed her. In the light of a meal and a pack of cigarettes, the young woman opened up to the man easily, finding her trust blooming just as easily as it had with Cam. She could see how the two had remained friends for so long; despite their differences in lifestyle, they were oddly similar.

"Wow, I knew it," Paul chuckled, tilting back into his chair.
"You no tell, though!" Ella urged, watching the cloud of smoke accumulate between them both. Despite the still constant ache inside, she found herself more relaxed than she had been since starting to sell herself; Paul was easy to confide in, and held no malice towards her. "I know happy now, with Miss Churchill... so I no ruin."
Paul look another drag before discarding the butt of the cigarette into his empty coffee cup. He met her eyes momentarily, but she looked away before he could see too deeply. "Is that why you left?"

His question, much to Ysabella's surprise, made her stomach curl. Her heart still ached; it wasn't like she had wanted to leave. Despite the fact that she was a mere sexual object to Cam, he had treated her always with the most respect... more than anyone in her life had ever given her. Not too mention she had felt deeply for him since the beginning... and leaving someone you had feelings for was not the easiest of tasks.
But she had been selfless, and was now fighting with the after effects of such a choice.

"A bit," she confessed, "I realize I not part of life for him... I always be the woman on side, never main focus. I knew saw more of him and Miranda, I only be more hurt. Plus, I care. I know that having me only mess up things with Miss Churchill, so left."
Paul nodded his head, watching her intently. Then he muttered again, "I knew it all along. Every time he talked about Miranda, I knew he was thinking about someone or something else. How long that's been going on for?"
"Not long," Ella confessed, standing up from the table, "not long enough."

After sharing another cigarette with Paul, he left, leaving his cell number if she ever needed someone to talk to or another job. Ella had accepted it with a soft smile, though they both knew the number would lost in the mix soon.
This was truly only one person that could save her from this mess, and Ella knew she'd never see him again.

When she went to the lobby to pay her forty-five dollars she received another letter from the bored, groggy man behind the next. In addition, he slipped a fifty dollar bill across the counter. Ella's eyes widened, and when he was sure that no one was around, the middle-aged man leaned in, "I gotta friend coming down later for a drink... sure you could offer us some fun."
 
~ ~ ~

It had been two weeks since breaking up with Miranda and Cameron could hardly step foot outside without being ambushed by paparazzi. Their break up had been declared the hottest news of the new year and was practically shrouded on every magazine nation-wide by the time mid-January came rolling around. The attention especially made it harder for Cameron to get over Miranda when everyone made it so hard to do so, shoving every kind of question down his throat. Even his colleagues had found ways to prod him about it, hungry to figure out why the 'supposed' power couple of Hollywood was breaking up so abruptly with no information whatsoever. Cameron simply diverted each and every attempt at prying into his personal life, solely focusing on work at the moment. Was it hard adjusting to being utterly alone? Hell yes.

Cameron had just made up with Paul two nights ago at one of his concerts and they were scheduled for lunch in thirty minutes. Paul said there was a nice off-the-map buffet, although it was in the heart of the slums. Cameron didn't mind; the less attention, the better. Moments like these made him wish all the fame and luxury that was embedded in his name would simply disappear. But with a family full of members that did great things, it was hard to slip away into invisibleness.

Once he cleared up a few files, he pulled on a light cardigan, stealing out the door and discreetly to his car before zipping down the road and to the address Paul gave him. It had only taken fifteen minutes to arrive in front of the squalid yellow-brick restaurant, stepping out of the Mercedes Benz that severely contrasted to the beat down pickups and old Chevy's that shrouded the lot. Seeing such destruction around him was another bitter reality that he had been gifted with everything his entire life.

Paul was waiting at a tiny table in the back of the room, flagging him down with a small wave as he straightened up in his seat. Cameron strolled over to join his friend, surprised to see that he had already ordered their favorites – banana French Toast with scrambled eggs. They had dubbed it their officially sobering breakfast, whenever a horrible hangover ensued the morning after. Even though they didn't necessarily have the time to pursue such an old tradition, it was a wonderful surprise.

"Cam!" he exclaimed, standing up to hug his best friend. "Sit down, I got news for you. And after you here, please refrain from squeezing the shit out of me for doing this for you."
Cameron arched his eyebrow in surprise, already cutting a square into the thick slab of bread. "Shoot," he replied, voice easy even though his stomach rumbled in slight excitement.
"I found Ysabella," he announced, before adding, "and I spoke with her. She needs you man."
His heart dropped to his stomach, eyes examining his food before responding, "Where did you find her?" After following his father's advice, he had decided to take a lot more time to decide what it is he wanted. It was hard to come back after ending an almost-wedding with your child hood best friend. But now, hearing about Ysabella reawakened that same portion in his heart that craved for her. "Some seedy motel. She's a prostitute, Cam."
He dropped his fork, barely able to stomach the surprise that welled in his stormy blue eyes. Cameron honestly couldn't believe it, believe that someone was pure as Ysabella would ever do something like…that. "I don't believe you," he replied, staring into Paul's eyes, searching for the smallest trace of fib. There was none.
"She is," Paul repeated. "A friend told me about her, and I had to tell you. But, if you really want to end this right now, and believe me, you're the only person that could, you'll keep an open mind to a plan I'm about to tell you."
Cameron didn't say anything, he didn't even look at him, but he nodded. If there was anything he could do to help Ysabella, he would, and even if he wanted to ignore it, that small part in him wanted closure or at least an explanation for why she disappeared for nearly a month without even telling him.
 
Ysabella's jeans hung from her hips, practically slipping away without a belt. Before she had checked into this motel, they had been snug around her curvacious hips – now that she had deprived herself of sleep and food, however, her figure had rapidly changed. Her normally full bust and bottom had shrunk significantly, revealing the bones underneath.
She had a hard time keeping up with the clients that entered the room continuously, but none seemed to take notice of her deteriorating frame. So she continued on, reminding herself of the twenty she'd see by the end of it all.

She travelled down the stairs, a fifty dollar bill in hand, planning to pay her daily rent. Since she had fucked the owner and his brother-in-law, he hadn't given her any trouble about prostituting in his place; as long as no cops were showing up, he was all for her staying here.

When she entered the lobby he winked at her, and she slid the bill across the corner.
Before she could depart, however, the man slid a small enclosed, and rather thick looking, envelope across the counter to her. Ysabella smiled at first, imagining it to be her father – however, when she noticed that the envelope was a crisp white, and had no return address, she frowned deeply. Ella was barely half way back to her room when she broke it open, her eyes widening with a hundred dollar bill slipped from the package.
And another... and another... five in total, a sum that was almost enough to buy her the rest of her ticket.

It had to be some sort of sick, cruel joke. As she read the neatly typed letter attached, however, she realized that all the person wanted was what she had been offering for weeks now.

Ysabella,
It has come to my attention that you are offering your services to whomever will pay you. I wish that you will meet me tonight outside of your hotel, nine at night, and accept this sum as my premature payment.

It was simple, short, and had Ysabella's heart beating madly in her chest.
First of all, no one had ever paid her before they had fucked her... they had always made sure that they were satisfied before handing her the bill. And second of all, she wondered what in the world a man could want for such a large sum? The thought in itself made her shiver lightly, imagining all sorts of things.

She had, of course, contemplated not showing up and stealing the money. However, she knew that consequences would soon ensue – if she did that, she would have to leave the motel altogether, including all of her frequent customers.
So, at eight fifty-five that night, Ysabella walked into the seedy streets of San Diego, donning nothing more than her loose jeans and a hot pink t-shirt. She wore no bra, no panties, and instantly regretted it – her nipples grew erect and painfully so in the cool breeze, and she wrapped her arms around her chest as she awaited the arrival of her valued customer.
 
Cameron was at first skeptical of Paul's plan but followed through regardless. All he wanted to do was see Ysabella again, and if it involved paying for her attention for a good sixty minutes, he would. If he had to continuously pay her just so she wouldn't be revolted by his mere presence, Cameron would oblige. His heart was craving her, and not just his dick this time. He was surprised at himself for simply wanting to talk to her, and hear her voice after living without it for so long. Christ, these feelings wouldn't be going away anytime soon so he had to willingly accept them; he wanted to.

His car rolled outside of the motel at nine o' clock sharp, watching the streets for Ysabella into his eyes finally connected with the woman. At first he didn't recognize her, the jeans she was wearing fitting looser on her once voluptuous form. Cameron could hear his breath catching in his throat, the sight of bones protruding in places they shouldn't causing that uncomfortable pit within the depths of his stomach. He just wanted to feed her, the sight something he wasn't close to used to. It felt like the Ysabella he had grown so fond was slowly dying away and manifesting into this fearless woman that could have sex with any guy in the world, when talking to others had been a daily struggle for her. Cameron couldn't fucking recognize her , and for once in his life he didn't feel special – he felt like another one of her customers she couldn't care less about, and if he was being honest with himself, it hurt.

Once she started to approach the car, Cameron thought of all the things he could say to her, but kept coming up with a blank. He wanted to pour a fucking book of his feelings out to her but he wouldn't allow his vulnerable side to make an appearance – he just wanted answers, the closure that he craved for her mysterious disappearance. For weeks, Cameron couldn't help but wonder if it was him that chased her away, or something else, and during those days he hoped and prayed it was the latter.

His heart beat picked up when she reached for that door handle, tugging it open slightly as she peered inside, quickly looking around before sliding in and shutting the door. It was only then when her eyes met him that they widened, the old girl he knew flashing through her cerulean orbs. Cameron kept his gaze hard and straightforward, surprised at the hurt anger that welled through each and every fiber of his being once she was seated next to him in the car. He promised himself he wouldn't show her a morsel of emotion; not yet.

"Did you get the letter?" was all he asked, voice even.
 
Her heart rate had never been faster before – was she just seeing things, or was it truly Cam in the seat beside her? She should have known from the car that this was no ordinary, seedy man picking her up. After all, he had paid her five hundred dollar bills to come out, and away from the motel no less.

Still, even as she acknowledged from the plush confines of his car and the scent of his cologne that it was indeed Cam that sat across from her, Ysabella remained stoic. In order to keep her composure she averted her eyes from him, staring out into the streets.
Perhaps all that he wanted was sex, and if he was now willing to pay for it... she would treat him like any other customer. He'd just be another fuck like she had been to her, and hopefully after that, he'd be gone.

"Yes," she muttered simply, "but you want motel... or no? I not leave for long... make choice."
"What are you talking about?" Cameron asked.
Ysabella shook her head at the genuine confusion in his voice. She didn't know how he had found her (though she imagined Paul had something to do with it) but after the letter, Ella imagined that he had at least known she was selling her body. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared up into the street, "you pay me big dollar for hour. I imagine you start quick."
He scoffed in disbelief. "You thought I came here for sex, Ysabella? I just want to talk."

It only took the young woman a second to reach for the car door handle, but before she could as much as pull at it to let herself out, it had been locked. She immediately shrunk away from the handle, and back into the seat, feeling grief and disbelief bubble inside of her.

Fear bubbled in her voice as she told him, "I give money back... I no want your stupid bill!" If she had to work as a prostitute for the next month by giving Cam the money back, she gladly would. There was no way that she wanted to talk to him; she would much rather take the torturous nights of being drilled by various men than face him again for even an hour. Just hearing his voice made her stomach and heart ache.

"Keep it," he replied tensely. "You need it, considering you're living on your own right now. And if you want the other five hundred, which I'm sure you also need, you'll stay here for the hour I paid for."
Ysabella fell back into the plush leather seat, hot tears filling her eyes as she covered her face with her hands. "What want from me... I never do nothing to you. Have sex and leave, that how it work. If not, I go now."
He turned towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I just want answers, Ysabella, and then you can leave."
"I no want to talk." With those words she shrugged him away, finding the lock with her right hand and pushing herself back out into the cold night hair. Just as she slammed the door, however, she told him in disjointed English, "what question you possibly have me? I nothing for you now."
 
Cameron couldn't force her back in the car, and he wouldn't take his money back either. He just prayed his words were enough to convince her otherwise; all he wanted was to talk to her, to figure this out so they could both move on. Did she want the same thing? And as if his omen had been answered, a little drizzle shrouded the sky, the walk back to her motel at least a good four minutes away. With thunder crackling and dark clouds shrouding an even darker sky, he knew Ysabella wouldn't try and walk home alone, unless she had changed more than he had originally thought.

"It's raining," he replied softly, "just get inside Ysabella and if you don't like my questions, you're free to leave with the money."
"No like questions," she told him sternly.
Cameron bit his lip, staring at his windshield. "Fine," he responded. "We won't talk. You can't walk home in this rain, Ysabella, just please, get inside." He honestly had no idea what he did to merit such dislike from her; if anything, he should be upset for her leaving without a trace. But Cameron kept his emotions in check, that pensive expression still heavy on his features.
She sighed, "why you want me in car so bad? I nothing to you, Mr. Ford... never anything." So that was it? She thought he didn't care about her? Ysabella couldn't be any further from the truth. He wouldn't be spending over a thousand dollars on one hour for someone he didn't have feelings for.
"You mean something to me," he murmured, unsure of how to handle his emotions. Cameron had never been the one to wear his heart on his sleeve and doing that now scared the living shit out of him.
"Right... I the girl use to test on, make sure you do nothing bad before go to wife! That something... yeah." His jaw almost fell to the floor at her assumption, and then it occurred to Cameron she had probably seen him in the pool with Miranda. His chest ached at the thought but everything began to make sense – she thought he was using her for his own vindictive pleasures before going to his girlfriend to try the same things. The pool hadn't even been his idea! Just a cruel coincident.

"Do you have feelings for me?" he asked abruptly.
Ella gulped, shaking her head yes, albeit timidly.
Cameron sternly nodded, eyes smoldering as he looked up at her. "Then get in the car and let's talk for once Ella and try to figure out whatever we have."
"It no matter," she whispered sadly, "it not matter..."
"Please," he begged. Cameron had never pleaded for a girl so much in his life and if she just gave him a chance to receive his closure if she didn't want to pursue anything serious, he would take that willingly.
 
The cold rain, now hitting her hard and soaking her to the bone, disguised the hot tears that flowed down her cheeks. She hated showing such powerful emotion in front of Cam, but such tears were hard to control when there was nothing more Ella wanted to do than hop in that car and properly talk to him.
Her heart was torn; she knew what she truly wanted deep inside, but then also realized what was best for them both. If she did hop in that car, she knew that things would rapidly return back to their previous state. Even if Cam and she had feelings for one another as they had slightly acknowledged now, he was still Miranda's husband – a relationship that Ella had wanted to leave in the first place.

"I cannot," she murmured, rain hitting down harder and practically drowning her words, "it not meant be, Mr Ford. I have feeling, but it no matter. It never matter." As long as they were from different walks of life, different parts of the world and different places in their lives... nothing Ella said or felt would matter.
He looked down at his wheel, not saying anything. "If you feel that way, Ysabella. I can't force you in the car."
That was where he was supposed to say that her feelings did matter, that she was the one he wanted to be with. Perhaps Ysabella was just a hopeless romantic or had read too many Harlequin novels, but she couldn't help but allow disappointment and sheer hopelessness to fill the piece of her heart that once belonged to him.

Diving into her pocket, Ysabella gripped at the soggy (but still in tact) hundred dollar bills he had sent her earlier. She didn't even look inside the cab as she tossed them back on the seat.

A few extra long nights was worth not having to face Cam anymore. He could go and prance off into the rainbows with Miranda, fucking whatever other mistress came his way. Maybe the new maid would suit his fancy more; she would speak proper English, and not run away when she realized that she wasn't the only one in his life.

Turning on her heel, Ella wrapped her arms around her chest as it bounced about, braless, heading back into the alleyway and towards the familiar motel. If she was luckily, the owner would be would waiting, ready to pay and get her mind off of the man she was leaving behind.
 
Cameron couldn't let her get away, not after everything they been do. Fate had practically given him another fucking opportunity to make things right and he was throwing it away? There were a lot of people he could let walk out of his life, but he would be damned if Ysabella was one of them. Sometimes his stubbornness got in the way of properly showing his emotions to another girl and after she spun on her heels to leave, he felt like he should have tried harder to get her back. It was official – he was a screw up. But Cameron wouldn't drive away and forget about it, hell no, he had another agenda in mind.

Stepping out of the car and grabbing the slightly wet hundred dollar bills he chased after Ysabella as he shoulders heaved, the obvious signs of crying, grabbing her by her hand and whirling her around before discreetly pressing the money in her back jeans for future reference. Their lips connected under the rain torrents, his arms wrapping around her waist, never wanting to let go. Cameron breathed against her lips, "I broke up with Miranda for you, Ysabella. I want you, and only you. Not just for sex, but the good times we have together. I know it means something and I want ignore it. You can push me away all you want, but I'm not going anywhere."

Ella looked up, warm tears visible in her eyes but the smart of a smile, "you crazy... so crazy, no right! I not meant for man like you... no, never."
"Who cares," he said with a tiny grin. "I like you, you like me, so fuck what everyone else thinks. I'm done trying to make others happy; I want to be happy for a change and I'm positive it's with you." The rain continuously pouring on them seized to exist when they were happily wrapped in each other's arms.
She bit her lip, "I not know, Cam..."
"We can talk, inside somewhere warm," he uncertainly suggested, not sure if she'd decline him for the umpteenth time.
She shivered and drew further into his chest, "o-okay."

Ysabella gripped his hand, leading him in the direction of the motel and out of the worsening rain storm.
 
"I warn now," Ysabella whispered as they climbed up the stairs to the motel room, "it not nice place..."
"I've seen worse," he responded with a smirk.
Ella didn't dare to ask.

When she opened the door, they were both hit by the stench of sweat and cheap perfume. It clung to the walls like tape, and even a few open windows wasn't enough to push it completely from the room. What was worse, however, was the state of the furniture – the comforter was completely discarded, exposing the stained, starchy sheets underneath. Condom wrappers littered the floor and cigarette buts sat on just about every surface.
Ella instantly regretted bringing him here; she should have suggested the car while they were on the streets.

Ysabella bit her lip, "I sorry..."
Cameron examined the mess, nodding grimly. "Yeah, it's okay."
They settled into the small table and chairs in the corner of the room, and Ysabella removed what was on it before seating herself across from Cam. "You... why... you leave Miss Churchill? That no good... not worth me."
"Things weren't working out," he admitted truthfully. "And you're worth more, Ella. My feelings were--are stronger for you."

Resting her forehead on the tabletop, Ysabella breathed in deeply. She was still in disbelief that Cam was here, explaining to her that after everything, he wanted her in all the ways she had wanted him. It was more than just sex to him, which came as a great surprise to the young woman.
Ella whispered, "I not believe this... I-I-... I sure I sex object for people. I tell you many times, who want woman that no speak English, that no experience... no family? And over Miss Churchill... it make no sense, Cam!"-she lifted her head to meet his gaze-"are sure you want me as more? I mean, this my job now... I have client, you be customer. It so much simpler... like before." More than anything, she wanted to ensure that this wasn't just a scheme to get her back into his bed. Though it was hard not to trust the sincerity in his eyes, she knew to tread carefully.

"You're more than that Ysabella, and I don't want to just have sex with you. I want to try this and see how it works out. I'm sure you do to. So why don't we? What's stopping you?"
She stood from her chair, and crossed the room to stare out the window, rain pelting down on the glass, "because I not type of woman for more than that. I just... I find position in life I fit into, and this it. I always be second woman in life, always please but never love. It don't hurt as much."
 
Cameron sat at the table, still bewildered to see the cigarette butts on just about every surface. Since when did she smoke? It felt like she had made a complete three sixty since the last time he saw her and that perturbed him to an extent. He hoped she would return back to the Ysabella he knew in due time, but Cameron would be patient knowing he wasn't exactly a saint either. "That's not true, Ella," he countered. "I want to be with you, and you either want to be with me or you don't. It's that simple." Cameron hoped she still wanted to be with him and he hadn't royally screwed things up from the last time they saw each other. To be honest, Ysabella was the first woman to give him butterflies in a long time and he positively enjoyed it.

"I want to," she nodded her head easily, "but I afraid..."
"You don't think I am?" he questioned softly. "Look, I'm not asking to sweep you off your feet and dub you my girlfriend automatically. I just want to go back to where we were – start as friends, go on a few dates, and see how much chemistry we have and if that's enough on both ends." Cameron believed he was being reasonable – after what happened two weeks ago he wasn't ready to dive into another relationship, but casual dating was a healthy alternative they could both use, especially since their feelings were continuously growing for each other. Ignoring it would only make situations worse – if they didn't test how they were a as a couple, they would live their entire lives with 'what if's' or regret. Cameron didn't want that.
Ella met his eyes, "if we do as you say... I only ask one promise."
"Sure, anything," he replied, getting up to look her in the eye.
Cautiously, she reached out for both of his hands and, staring in his chest as a tear slipped, she whispered, "no more sex... I... it nothing now."
Cameron nodded fervently. It was better that way – a relationship without sex to prove their true emotions for each other. He wanted her to know he wasn't only in it to fuck her and would gladly stop doing it if it meant getting to be with her. "Of course, Ysabella. That's best."
She wrapped her arms around his waist, "then we try."

Cameron nodded, that tiny smirk forming on his lips as he responded, "I couldn't be happier, Ella."
 
They held each other for a long while after that, standing in front of the large window as the rain began to subside. Like the weather reflected the light that had been shed on their relationship, the sun began to peak through the clouds, basking San Diego in hot sun once more.

Once they parted, Ella changed into a clean set of clothing, telling Cam, "you best leave for a bit... I have customer soon, and I not sure you want to face."
He nodded, walking towards the door. "Are you still...going to do this?"
Ella smiled gently, gripping his hand before he got too far, "not if you no want me too. But I pay some way, and whether I or not, man be here soon..." There was no telling what Cameron would do if he came face-to-face with one of the men that had been paying her for sex all this time.
"Alright," he responded with a grim smile. "Well, maybe when we're dating it might be a little awkward for you to run off for a customer, but if this is your last one, I'll roll with it. Oh, by the way, check your back pocket, but let me leave first."

Once he was gone, Ella's fingers dove into the back pocket of her eyes, and her eyes began to water when she pulled out not five, but ten hundred dollar bills... more than enough to purchase her plain ticket to Yemen and leave this world, once and for all.
Tears welled in her eyes, and in a split second she was pushing out the motel door, chasing Cam down the stairs and back into the parking lot. She collided with him almost immediately, wrapping her thin arms around his muscular waist and pulling him close.

"I no need money," she whispered as his lips hung above hers.
"Take it," he urged with a soft smile. "Really, it's nothing."
Ella laced her fingers into his hair, "you no understand. I buy plane ticket to Yemen... but now, I no think that plan anymore."
He arched his eyebrows in surprise. "Yemen?" He looked like he was going to question her more but pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, murmuring, "Good."

Ysabella smiled before drawing away, her hand always firm around his, "I no want to stay, Cam..." She didn't want to face another customer, didn't want to be used as a sex toy any longer. The mere thought made her ache in more places than one, and the pain seemed to be apparent in her gaze as Cam told her, "good, I was thinking up excuses to get you stay with me, but I couldn't think of any." That devilish smirk fleeted across his lips once more.
She smiled softly, "but no sex, right?"
He nodded. "No sex."
"Then we go..." Ella whispered, allowing him to wrap his arm around her shoulders gingerly, guiding her in the direction of his car. Ysabella prayed she'd never return to this place again.
 
~ ~ ~

Cameron escorted Ysabella to her room that night, a medium-sized space comprised of modern furniture and fresh bed sheets. He hoped it was a stark contrast from the seedy hotel room she was living in only days ago; after all, he only wanted her to feel comfortable. They would take things slow and see what happened – it was the best thing for the both of them at this point in their lives. And several hours later he was treading about the kitchen in pajama pants, frying up eggs for breakfast and grabbing a carton of orange juice by the time she joined him, rubbing at her eyes warily.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," he greeted with a grin, placing the two plates on the table. "Eat up." Cameron had to admit – living in this large loft got lonely at times and the extra company was greatly appreciated. Even if for some odd reason things didn't work out, she was always a welcome roomie at his place.
Ella's eyebrows shot up in her forehead, "you spoil!"
"Get used to it!" Cameron exclaimed with a snicker. "I always spoil my women." With that, he took a seat in front of her at the table, stabbing a piece of egg with his fork and swallowing.
"I will try," she grinned, "look forward, too."

They enjoyed their breakfast over light conversation and when it was over, they washed and dried the dishes together, packing them away in their cabinets. Any thoughts he had about Miranda had completely deteriorated in Ysabella's presence, glad to have back the woman he had thoroughly missed since the day he found out she left. A sexual-free relationship was exactly what they needed to explore their feelings for each other considering they had jumped into sex much too quickly from the start.

"Anything in particular you wanna do today?" he questioned curiously. "Well, in privacy." Cameron remembered the last outside incident they had with a shudder and remembered to be mindful of her general fear of the paparazzi and cameras.
Ella bit her lip, "you teach English. You promise me before."
Cameron grinned placing the dish rag on the counter. "Is there any words you want to learn in particular? Well, other than the word before." He stifled a snicker at the memory, turning to face her against the hard surface.
"Hmm," she pondered, "you teach me slang. Paul, when we talk, he confuse me so! Like, he say words that make no sense. I ask him why he digs in the dirty, or giggles?"
Cameron laughed, replying, "Well, Paul is the king of slang. He speaks in it most of the time. Ya' dig means 'do you get me?'"
"Get?" she asked.
"To understand," he corrected with a smile.
 
"This too confusing," Ysabella frowned after they had gone through just a few words.

Why didn't people hear just talk normally?! English was hard enough as it was to learn, and when these Americans knew all of these made up words and threw them into the mix, it made it damn near impossible.
Sometimes people laughed at her for not understanding them, or at her misunderstanding of words, but they made it near impossible for her to comprehend when they said these things. Half the time they had nothing to do with what was being said, only leading to confusion.

"It's usually hard picking up a new language," he responded teasingly.
She rested her head against shoulder, "Arabic not this hard. Sure, we some word, but not like this! Like, how you blow your job?!"
Cameron made a psttt sound with his lips. "If you taught me Arabic, I'd butcher each and every word you'd try to teach me." He laughed at her before adding, "I don't know who came up with it. But that's the American language for you. Eating out is another questionable one as well." Another snicker flitted from his lips as he winked at her. That wink was enough to make her stomach tingle, but she pushed the feeling bad, smiling gently up at him.

"Eat out?" she asked, raising her eyebrow.
"It's what a guy does to a girl and," he paused. "Oh god, feels like I'm teaching sex ed. It's like the equivalent of a blow job, but usually involves a man using his tongue..and I'm sure you get the picture."
Ella shook her head. She was sheerly amused by the reddening of his face and inquired, "blowjob? You never tell.."
Cameron smirked, touching her hair briefly, "when a woman puts the man's dick in her mouth, Ella."
"Oh." Now it was her turn to go red, and she laughed softly before burying her face into Cam's chest, smiling when he began to laugh as well. It was natural for them to be this way, flirting innocently and goofing around. Ysabella enjoyed the light atmosphere immensely, and was glad to be learning in the process. "So you no actually eat, right?" she asked.
"Guess you'll have to find out on your own," he teased with a cunning smile.
Ella laughed, pushing gently at his chest before scampering off and into the next room, flailing into the couch and curling into a ball. Cam attacked her immediately, his hands soughting out her sides, which he knew to be the most ticklish part of her body.
 
Being this playful with Ella was hell of a competition next to sex and Cameron honestly couldn't decide which one was better. This innocent flirting they did was enough to satiate whatever drive he had; spending the day with the woman was something he could imagine himself doing for a very long time. In short, she made him happy and that was all he ever wanted out of a woman. Around her, he could be himself and not worry about trying to impress the paparazzi with fabricated stories and overzealous romantic gestures. They just planned no locking themselves away in his spacious San Diego pent house overlooking the bustling city and enjoying each other's company. Sounded like the perfect fantasy to him.

"Cam!" she cried, legs kicking as he tackled her against the couch, tickling her most sensitive parts, which happened to be her sides.
"You shouldn't have let me find your tickly spots," he pointed out, their laughter shaking the room as he continued to tickle her, body squirming. "But there is one way you can get yourself out of this situation."
"U-u-uh oh..." she laughed, trying to push his hands away halfheartedly, "w-w-wh... ah, Cameron!"
"Kiss me," he responded simply, fingers still brushing over her ticklish sides.
"Ahhh!" she laughed, but in between her incessant giggles, she tapped her lips to his briefly.
Cameron smiled contently, leaning off of her as he fell on his back against the plush couch, pulling her with him. She rested on top of his chest, hands in her hair as he pressed another kiss to her plush lips before reaching for a remote and flicking the television on.
"Best way to pick up our language is to watch American shows," he said, already flipping through a few channels. Cameron had finally tuned into some MTV show called Teen Mom, raising his brows at the pregnant sixteen year olds that flashed across the screen.
The young woman curled into his side, "what this show?"
"Some Teen Mom thing," he responded. "Girls in our country apparently think it's cool to get pregnant at fifteen and sixteen, although I assume it's the same way in Yemen, well, sans it being cool."
Ella's eyes watched the screen, "yes, younger even! Normal everywhere. Most girls meant married young and many child. I rare, only child."
"Wow, I can't imagine that," Cameron mused. Getting pregnant at fourteen years old, or younger? Being married to men twice your age? It sounded horrible.
 
Ella rested her head against Cam's chest as they watched the television, images of young women with expanding bellies and newborn babies flashing across the screen. And despite their ages, the girls looked positively glowing as they held their new babies in their arms. Ella wondered what it would be like to experience such joy; she was sure, no matter the age of the parents, that there was nothing that compared.

Running her hand idly up Cam's bicep as a commercial came on, Ella grinned and exclaimed, "this popular song, many year, in Yemen! My cousin and I, we always dance when father no look." She could practically feel her hips swaying and her feet moving underneath her; the words familiar on her tongue. It was truly amazing how two, such distant countries, could share such similar tastes in the music.
Cameron arched his eyebrow, "Oh really? You need to dance for me some day."
Ella smirked, "I no shake my 'booty'"-she giggled at the word he had taught her earlier-"though. Dancing more... difference home."
He laughed. "How's dancing back home then?"

Cam didn't even have to ask, although his questions begged for her to show him. And so cautiously she stood just as the song reached its first chorus, and automatically her hips began to swag back and forth. The movements were still familiar to her body, the music bringing her back to entirely different world. Back home, dancing and music had been an escape - one she and her cousin had practiced in secrecy.
Before he could watch her too long, however, Ysabella timidly pulled him up, grabbing his hands and moving him along with the beat. At first his feet were clumsy underneath them but as she guided him, her steps rapid underneath her and her body swaying from side to side, he rapidly grew in confidence. By the end of the song he was laughing and swaying with her, wrapping his arms around her small waist and moving her this way and that.

* http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2zktbkUfnE
 
Cameron watched in amazement at the way her hips swayed to the quick and precise movement of her feet, matching each beat gracefully yet seductively. So she could sing and dance? Cameron had to be in heaven! Ysabella was a lot more perfect than she gave herself credit for but he would make it his duty to convince her how amazing she actually was.

At first his movements were disjointed and often off beat, but he blamed it on the fact he was a terrible dancer in general. Straight up horrible. Cameron hadn't been able to successfully hold any sort of tempo his entire life, and that showed when he was struggling to keep up with her fast movements, their laughter sounding as she quickly helped him, guiding his feet with hers. Soon enough, they were pretty much in sync, and Cameron was dancing the best he had in years.

He wrapped her up in his arms as they swayed for a moment, lips connecting with hers momentarily before breathing, "That was amazing. Arabic girls can dance."
"I glad you like... though, I more practice for you, habibi."
Cameron snickered. "Good; that was…sexy," he paused, picking up on her Arabic. "And what's habibi?"
"Emm...," she bit at her lip, "it like... endearing name. Like sweetie, or honey?"
"Ah," he responded, trying to remember it. "Will definitely keep that in mind."

Once they were done watching television, Cameron flicked the screen off, still clad in only his pajama pants from last night. Wrapped up in all the fun they were having, he forgot about freshening up. "Well, I need a shower," he mused, running a hand through his scruffy hair. "There's one across from your bedroom as well." On any other circumstances he would have gladly convinced her to shower with him, but those temptations often led to other things which they were successfully avoiding thus far.
The temptation was there in her eyes, but Ysabella smiled and kissed his cheek, looking down, "enjoy, then."

Cameron nodded with a tiny grin, leaning down to peck her on the cheek before starting in the direction of the bathroom. It was for the best, he reminded himself.
 
Ysabella would have gladly shared a shower with him, however, she knew that if they saw each other naked once more a bunch of dormant feelings would arise... ones that they had agreed to put on hold for the time being. Now, that didn't say that Ysabella didn't want to be intimate with Cam – in fact, her body directed her in the exact opposite direction. However, her heart won the battle and she remained in the main part of the loft, admiring the small photos and trinkets that littered every surface.

As she scanned the room, however, her feet craved to dance once more. She was fortunate to find a radio station that played all Arabic music, many of them familiar to her ears.
So as the water began to run Ysabella turned it up, singing along to the beautiful and fast paced melodies and allowing her hips to move with the beat. And soon she was transported into an entire world all together; a place where she and her cousin, even her mother when they were young, had danced like they had not a care in the world. She smiled and closed her eyes as her body moved, careful of the delicate furniture that surrounded her.

Just as she was beginning to get completely wrapped up in the music, there was a faint cough from the peanut gallery, catching her attention. Immediately she stopped, looking up only to see Cam standing up on the second floor, his wet hair sticking out and his body still beaded with water. His elbows were propped on the railing, and he had a permanent smirk on her face.

"How long you been there?" she laughed up at him.
"A while," he responded with a smirk.
Ella just shook her head, throwing the TV remote up at him. "Go change before stupid happen!" God only knew what would happen if he came done, clad just in that tiny towel, toned legs and muscular core exposed...
Cameron raised his hands in defense, although playfulness glimmered in his dark blue eyes. "Fine, I'm going." He couldn't help but add in a joking tone, "Although I wonder how you'd look doing that dance sans clothing."
She began looking for something else to throw at him but by that time he had stole into the upstairs bedroom, hopefully putting on some clothing. As she waited for his return Ella changed the radio to an American pop station, singing along to what little of the words she knew.
When he returned, she smirked only to realize that he had failed to find a shirt once more. His chest was rigid was muscle, the work of many late hours at the gym. Ella could only envision tracing every groove and crevice of his skin, but restrained her hands... for now, at least.

...keeping them like that, though, was going to prove much easier said than done.
 
Cameron usually wore pajama pants around the house – it was comfortable and he usually didn't have to worry about company seeing him so casual. But Ysabella was different and they had seen every crevice of each other's bodies and he never failed to feel completely comfortable around her. But the temptation, the sexual tension, that was welling in the room could be cut with a knife. Cameron's eyes floated down to her thighs and how easily he could spread them open and show her how his tongue held many other talents other than being charismatic with people. He pushed the thought away, knowing an erection would only make things harder on them both. They were trying to stay away from each other sexually to see how it worked out, and so far this morning had been proof on how organic their relationship was without the aid of sex. That alone was incredibly reassuring for him.

"This whole staying away from each other thing is gonna be hard," he murmured with a grin. After being in each other's presence for less than twenty four hours, they wanted to tear each other's clothes off.
"Yes," she nodded, "but we wait... promise? I... I want special. Recover."
Cameron shook his head, cupping her cheek in his hand. "Yeah, it's for the best." He grabbed her hand, guiding her to a separate room in the house that held an indoor hot tub. He had one outdoors for the summer, but since the temperatures were still chilly, he figured the one inside would still hold the same romantic effect. Cameron wanted to surprise her with a spontaneous date, knowing they needed a few of those. He had planned most of them within the comfort of his home, knowing anything in a public viewing area would be more than risky. After all, Miranda had no idea who he was dating, and if he was even dating to begin with. The last thing he wanted to do was tear open the wound when it was still fresh.

"Thought I'd surprise you," Cameron said, showing her the room that had a romantic aura and a bottle of champagne on the side. Even though it was still afternoon, being locked away in the room was almost like being locked away in another world – dimly lit with every organized to perfection. He did this mostly to see how well they'd do in a semi-serious setting and with romantic conversation. Those weren't usually Cameron's forte but he was willing to try for the sake of their relationship.
 
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