With this and the discovery of her enjoyment of dominance and power, her weekend had become a voyage of self-discovery. She had explored new islands of feeling. They were islands that lay beyond her known world; new territory unmapped and lying in uncharted waters.
A few minutes ago, in the next-door bedroom, Colette had paraded in the short red dress. She had bent down to pick up a discarded shoe and Stephanie had seen the whole of the long slit of her sex exposed and framed by the tights, from the little puckered hole in her arse to the pulpy labia amply covered by the thick pubic hair. It was a sight that had provoked a rush of visceral pleasure in Stephanie. But that did not mean she was not equally excited, for instance, by the sight of Devlin's cock ramming deep into her cunt as she had bent over the bath, or of the masked man on the plane, his cock straining for the release she had, eventually, given him.
The truth was, she knew, as she applied lipstick with a brush, that she wanted it all. She wanted the fantasies and the realities. She wanted men and women. She wanted dominance and she wanted submission. She had stumbled into a world of sex that she had only ever read about before, and it had thrilled her. She could not believe her body capable of producing the depth of feelings, the heights of passion she had already experienced. For whatever reason, at this moment in her life, she was completely receptive to this new sexual domain into which she had wandered. She did not fear it, she was not inhibited by it, she was not in any straitjacket of psychological repressions or suppressions. There was nothing holding her back. There was nothing between her and her feelings.
Why then, she thought, had she resisted Gianni so vehemently? To have a man who she disliked and despised, who made her flesh creep (ever-so-slightly creep, she had to admit) take her and fuck her would be another island of feeling to explore. She would feel used, abused. Would it be so different from the other experiences she had already willingly encountered?
For the moment the answer was definitely yes. Despite all that had happened the thought of Gianni did not provoke the slightest sexual arousal. He was quite simply a turn-off. How long that feeling would last she did not know, but at the moment it was a fact.
As she pulled the dark blue evening dress over the teddy Colette walked back into the room. The transformation from the sweaty labourer toiling in the vineyards to a beautiful and sophisticated creature was complete. Making no concessions to her height she had selected high-heeled shoes to match the dress. She had pinned her hair up to leave her long neck and shoulders completely bare, making the strapless dress seem even more revealing. Her firm breasts were clearly outlined by the clinging scarlet fabric, as was the curve of her arse.
'Well?' she said, turning a full circle in front of Stephanie.
'Stunning,' Stephanie replied, and meant it.
Stephanie smoothed down her own dress and went to stand by Colette. They gazed into the full-length mirror. The skirt of Stephanie's dress was longer than Colette's but the split, cleverly designed to be hidden until movement of the thigh caused it to open, made it no less attractive. The dress was tight to the waist following the line of her breasts but styled to cover one shoulder while leaving the other exposed. They were the perfect combination: blonde in red, brunette in blue, two stunningly attractive women dressed to the nines.
But something was missing, Stephanie decided as she looked at Colette in the mirror. Going through the small amount of jewellery she had brought with her, she found a gold necklace and clipped it into place around Colette's neck. The effect accentuated the graceful hollows above her collarbone. Stephanie chose only earrings for herself.
'Let's go then,' she said.
'What happens if this doesn't work?'
'Your guess is as good as mine,' Stephanie said, knowing it to be true. Stephanie would have preferred to be going down to dinner with Devlin alone. Gianni's presence was intrusive, but, she had to admit, it also added an extra dimension of excitement and interest. There was definitely no way to predict how this evening was going to end.
Chapter Nine
The clack of high heels on the marble staircase must I have alerted Devlin and Gianni. By the time the two women were halfway down the stairs, both men were standing at the foot of the staircase waiting to greet them. From this position there was no doubt they were getting a worm's eye view of two pairs of unrivalled legs expensively clad in nylon and leather. In Colette's case they could probably see a great deal more.
'Bravo! Bravo!' Gianni shouted, beginning to clap his hands. Devlin rather self-consciously joined in.
'Magnificent,' Devlin said quietly to Stephanie as she reached the bottom of the stairs and he took her hand.
'Thank you,' she replied. She turned to Gianni.
'This is Colette, a friend of mine from England,' she lied.
'Charmed, Colette,' Gianni said, taking her hand and kissing it lasciviously, no doubt using the same technique he had used on Stephanie on the jetty. 'I love English. Did Stephanie tell you? All things English. I'm English-crazee.'
He was looking hard at Stephanie as he said this, looking at her, it seemed, as though he saw straight through her little plot.
'And there's something about Italian men makes me feel funny in all sorts of places,' Colette was saying, her Cockney accent suddenly more pronounced.
Gianni turned to Stephanie and took her hand. He kissed it perfunctorily, letting it go as soon as his lips had grazed the skin of her fingers.
'To you I must owe an apology. I behave very badly indeed. Please I want that you forgive me.'
'Forgiven and forgotten,' Stephanie said catching Devlin's eye. Whether this change of mind was genuine or not she did not know. But at least he'd said it. And it was possible that he meant it.
'Good. Then we can be friends,' he said.
Gianni wrapped his arm around Colette's waist and led her into the dining room, his hand quickly slipping down from the small of her back to the cheeks of her arse, feeling them move as she walked.
'Well, that's a good sign,' Stephanie whispered to Devlin. 'So far, so good. She looks stunning.'
'Do you want her?'
'My dear, I want only you. This business has spoilt all my plans. I didn't want to have to share you this evening. I wanted you to myself. Will you ever forgive me?'
'I might.' She tried to look stern but then broke into a smile. Two pleas for forgiveness in as many minutes. 'Incidentally, I had to promise her...'
'Anything. If she can get Gianni out of our hair, anything.'
'I have something special for our aperitif,' Devlin announced when they were installed in chairs around the roaring fire in the dining room. 'A bottle of 1952 Dom Perignon.'
A white-coated waiter poured the wine into the flutes, handling the bottle as though it contained nitro-glycerine. The wine had lost most of its bubbles but had matured to a deep golden colour.
'To our mutual health,' Devlin toasted.
Stephanie could not remember tasting anything so delicious. She savoured the subtle taste, sipping the wine from the flute and watching Devlin do the same. 'Delicious.'
'It's the last bottle, and I've been saving it for a special occasion,' he said, looking only at Stephanie.
Gianni and Colette were less judicious, gulping back the wine as if it were Coca-Cola.
'How long have you been friends?' Gianni asked in a tone Stephanie thought was edged with suspicion.
'Oh, years...' Stephanie lied.
'But you talk differently.'
'I'm a Cockney, see,' Colette volunteered.
'But you are both beautiful. It is very unusual to have two beautiful women as friends. Usually it is one beautiful and one very ugly. The horse and the donkey. No?'
'Doesn't he say the nicest things?' Colette said, leaning over to kiss Gianni's cheek while her hand pawed his thigh.
'Well,' Devlin said, trying to change the subject, 'dinner is served.'
Devlin led Stephanie to the dining table. It was now set for four. A huge display of fresh fl
owers - obviously from the kitchen garden - decorated the centre of the table. Gianni sat next to Colette, facing Stephanie; Devlin next to Stephanie facing Colette. Before them a vast array of crystal glasses and Georg Jensen silver arranged neatly in place settings. Stephanie realised that she was ravenously hungry, having eaten nothing since the light lunch on the terrace. She accepted the proffered bread - there was a choice of three and Stephanie chose the rough country bread Devlin recommended - with alacrity, while another waiter offered mineral water which she also accepted.
'In Gianni's honour tonight we have Italian specialities,' Devlin said of the meal he had planned so carefully for Stephanie. 'Pasta nero with white truffles from Alba. Our local fish from the lake deep-fried misto fritto. And local veal roasted in wild rosemary with polenta. There is a dolcelatta from Bologna and a special pudding. All guaranteed to have no calories whatsoever.'
No wonder there were so many knives and forks on the table, Stephanie thought. It was not until her first taste of white truffle, thinly pared on to the black pasta and accompanied by a fine Frascati, that she realised her intimations of trouble were well founded. The first sign was a shoe, rubbing gently against the top of her ankle. Looking down through the glass tabletop it was not difficult to see to whom the shoe belonged. It was one of Gianni's Gucci loafers. Gianni himself was talking to Devlin, apparently oblivious to what his foot was up to. Colette had seen what was going on too. The women looked at each other over the table. Colette shrugged. She was doing her best. Stephanie withdrew her foot to a point where it was out of Gianni's reach. She watched as his foot searched around, probing like the antenna of an ant, trying to re-establish contact. Finally he gave up, though not without giving Stephanie a quick glance and a knowing smile.
Course followed course, each perfectly cooked, each accompanied by a different classic Italian wine. Gianni ate greedily, stuffing the food into his mouth as though he hadn't eaten for weeks and using the wine, rather than the water, to wash it all down. Gianni's wine glass seemed to be perpetually empty, despite being refilled by a succession of conscientious waiters. And the alcohol was clearly affecting him. The veneer of politeness he had adopted to Stephanie at the beginning of the evening and the apparent interest in Colette was wearing thin. He was staring at Stephanie all the time now, no matter who he was talking to. He winked at her. He put his hand across the table to touch hers. His foot snaked out to touch hers the moment she inadvertently brought it back into range. Whatever Colette had, Gianni did not want it; that was becoming patently obvious. As the meal progressed the frown on Devlin's forehead deepened. There was seemingly nothing that could be done to drag Gianni's attention away from Stephanie and on to Colette. The plan was not working.
The special pudding was an amazing concoction of chocolate and cream and almond biscuits, but it went largely uneaten except by Gianni, who cleaned his plate of every morsel and then looked over at the amount left on Stephanie's plate.
'You are leaving this?' he asked, sounding astonished.
'Yes.'
'Do you mind? It's too good for wasting.' His fork flashed out over the table and scooped up most of the pudding from Stephanie's plate leaving a trail of cream and chocolate, dropped from his ambitiously filled spoon, between her plate and his.
'Colette has some left,' Devlin said hopefully, but Gianni was not interested in what Colette had on her plate.
'I want only Stephanie's,' he said, flamboyantly throwing her a kiss across the table.
'I'm hurt,' Colette said, pouting her bottom lip in a manner that most men in her life had found irresistible.
'No, no, my dear.' Gianni put his arm around her bare shoulder and patted her arm. 'You must excuse. I have eaten that much enough.'
'No,' Colette continued trying her best. 'I'm hurt. What are you going to do to make it up to me?'
'What can I do?'
'Well, I can think of a little something...' She leant forward and whispered in his ear. But whatever she said did not produce the desired effect.
'No, no!' Gianni said like a petulant child whose toy was being taken away from him for bad behaviour. 'I want to stay with my friends.'
Colette caught Stephanie's eye and gave her a resigned look. What, more could she do?
They took coffee out on the terrace. The full moon had come out and was perfectly reflected in the still black water of the lake. The temperature was perfect, a balmy evening after a burningly hot day. Stephanie stood alone looking over the silent water. In daylight it was probably the most beautiful view she had ever seen. Now, at night, with the great white moon, it seemed a more emotional experience, as though the view signified something she should know and understand. As her eyes became accustomed to the darkness she could see faint lights in the far distance from the houses dotted around the edge of the lake. Moths and fireflies flew into the light from the lamps on the terrace. Apart from their frenzied suicidal fluttering the night was completely still.
Colette had taken Gianni's arm and forcefully steered him to a small outdoor couch. His interest in her seemed to have been rekindled.
'You're the sort of man that makes me feel... well, hot. I mean turned on. There's something about you. Something like an animal... do you know what I mean?' Her hand pressed into his lap, her fingers actively searching for his cock. 'I don't usually feel like this. Men are all over me usually and I don't want to know. But with you... do you know what I mean?'
'You are a beautiful creature.' Gianni meant it, too. She was exquisite.
'I'm glad you think so.' Her fingers had found their objective. 'I hope you don't think I do this all the time. It's just something you do to me. Maybe it's your Eyetie accent...'
'Maybe. You have a beautiful body too, I think.'
'I just have this feeling, see. Makes me all funny inside. I just know what it would be like with you. I don't think I'd be able to control myself. You'd make me wild, Gianni.'
Tentatively Gianni put his hand on her knee. The sheer nylon felt soft and warm to his touch and he felt Colette shudder slightly and let out the faintest of moans. He ran his hand higher up her leg. Her legs parted.
'Oh, that's so nice. You don't know how good that feels.'
'Your legs are so long.'
He ran his fingertips down between her thighs and then higher until he could have sworn he felt the brush of hair against the side of his hand. He investigated further, turning his fingertips inward and discovering that the nylon did not extend over her thick bushy pubic hair. Colette meantime was squeezing his cock which was beginning to grow.
'Clever design, isn't it?' she whispered. 'Nothing to get in the way. It's making you hard, isn't it? Tell me what you want, darling...' Colette was increasingly pleased with herself. At last her charms were working. 'Anything. As long as you fuck me first. I'll do anything. Tell me your fantasy, Gianni.'
Gianni was more than tempted. She was a beautiful creature. He looked down at the red dress, the material moulded to her breasts, and at her sculpted, slender thighs. He knew he could ask her anything and she would do it. He wished he didn't care, didn't care that Devlin was treating him like a fool, taking him for a complete idiot. But he did care and he knew himself too well to be tempted for long. In the end where would he be, how would he feel, how could he look at himself in the mirror in the morning if he took this girl to his bed, a girl like any whore he could buy on the streets of Rome? More beautiful perhaps, more skilled even, but no more than a common whore nevertheless.
'That's enough.' He stood up.
'Darling!' Colette said with genuine surprise as her hand was torn away from his cock.
'What do you take me for?' Gianni strode over to the table where Stephanie and Devlin sat with their coffee. 'Hah, Devlin, what you take me for?'
'What's the problem?' Devlin said, trying to sound unconcerned.
'This girl. You think I'm stupid. You set me up with a whore. You think I need to fuck a whore?'
'Gianni...' Devlin was lost for
words.
'Get her out of here.' He looked back at Colette. Her skirt had ridden up on the sofa and a wisp of pubic hair, as blonde as the hair on her head, curled up from beneath the red hem of the dress. 'I don't go with whores, Devlin. I told you this. What, you bring her up from your cellars, eh? Your famous cellars. You think I don't know all about you? You think I don't find out all about you? I don't need this. I get my own women. I never take a whore.'
'She's my friend,' Stephanie said.
'She is not. Don't lie to me.' He spat the words out at her with real hate.
Devlin got to his feet and took Gianni by the arm. Gianni shook his hand off but followed him into the castle. At the terrace doors he turned and shot a look back at the women. His eyes blazed with anger.
'What did you say to him?' Stephanie asked, sitting down next to Colette on the couch.
'I was just trying to get him going. It was no good, though. He knew from the beginning, right from the off. He just played along. He was never interested in me. He wants you and that's it.'
'I know,' Stephanie sighed.
'I did what I could.'
'It's not your fault.'
Through the windows Stephanie could see Gianni pacing up and down the dining room angrily gesticulating at Devlin. Devlin was clearly trying to calm him down. Stephanie felt miserable. What was supposed to be a romantic dinner had been turned into a shambles by this awful man, the whole evening had been spent trying to placate him. She knew nothing of Devlin's business but, considering his enormous wealth, whatever Devlin wanted from him must be very important indeed. She just wished it did not involve her.
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