by Primula Bond
I flicked my tongue out and instantly it met Mimi’s, which was tickling the corner of my mouth. I sucked hers in against my teeth, and felt it probing, like a penis, and then her fingers were doing the same to my pussy, creeping back down the crack and then plunging between the lips.
We had both started to writhe against each other, barely realising it. For the first time in my life, I felt compelled to make a grab for another woman’s crotch. I felt aroused by her much as a man must feel, and began to be drawn towards her intimately and to play a little rough. I wanted to feel her cunt now, but she pressed up closer to me, still kissing me, and jammed her fingers further into me, while her other hand circled round one little spot. The sparks exploded in my head as she located my clitoris and delicately manipulated it with her thumb.
I gave up trying to reach into her crack and, as I was bending my knees slightly in an unconscious effort to open myself even more, I grabbed her buttocks and spread them open a little. I opened my eyes in surprise as my fingers slipped inside the warm crevice between her buttocks. As I explored this unknown place, I glanced sideways and saw our twin profile in the mirror: our breasts rubbing from side to side as we swayed so that the friction kept our nipples rock hard. The muscles in Mimi’s arms were working, her hands invisible between my legs, while my arms were stretched round her, my hands reaching inside her butt cheeks.
The sight of us, the pale body and the brown body lit by the harsh winter light so that there was no mistaking what we were doing and how it looked, was too much for me. Tongues of ecstasy started lapping at my clit, as Mimi’s fingers pumped rapidly in and out. Her fingers and thumb kept playing me while I pulled my mouth away to take in silent gulps of air. The waves started to radiate from Mimi’s fingers and I moaned out loud as I felt the juices ooze between my trembling legs. My climax came, hot and quick, and shook me.
As I let go of Mimi and sank to the white carpet, my cunt still twitching and moist, I felt exhilarated. What with yesterday’s encounter at Symes Hall, and this unexpectedly sexy sisterly groping, London was looking up. I hadn’t bargained on two such horny experiences in two short days. I felt no embarrassment and no shame. Something had changed in me. Or perhaps it was just that London had changed when I wasn’t looking. Either way I was eager for more where that came from.
I closed my eyes, still gasping, and heard Mimi moving around the room, humming under her breath.
‘You’ll be glad we did that, when you’ve got your head round it,’ she remarked quietly. I looked up. She was picking through some of the piles of silk and lace underwear. She picked up some flimsy garments. Her brown feet padded across the carpet and stopped in front of me. Her big toe came up under my jaw and lifted my chin so that I had to sit up straight.
Behind her, the mannequin’s head had turned to look at us.
‘You’re ready now, Suki,’ she said. She smiled, and dropped the garments in a silky shower on top of me. ‘It’s time to dress you up for work.’
Like I said, Chrissie would have cackled at the sight of me. She’d have walked up and down in front of me like a sergeant major, unable to believe her eyes. Not only did the designer chalk-striped jacket in purest wool fit me like a glove this time, its one large button deliberately under a little strain to cover my bosom, it was also lined with silk, which meant I didn’t need to wear a blouse. There was nothing between my lace-sprinkled breasts and an unsuspecting world. Or in this case, an unsuspecting new member whom I was detailed to welcome to the club.
And instead of manly trousers, Mimi had zipped me firmly into a pencil skirt, stockings and killer-heeled court shoes. Earlier, the hairdresser had tamed the ferocious red of my hair, bringing it down to a kind of burgundy sheen, and ironed out all the curls. Mimi had twisted it tightly up behind my head and secured it with a silver clip. I had never worn my hair up before, except scrunched into a hair net, an occasional ponytail or a charlady’s scarf. My face was unfamiliar: the cheekbones and chin all sharp angles, my eyes with their new, mascaraed lashes huge and unblinking under my white, bare forehead.
‘Isn’t it all too businesslike?’ I complained, tugging at the skirt in front of the mirror in her hallway as Mimi gave me money for the taxi back to the club. ‘I don’t feel natural in this get-up.’
‘Believe me, this is what they like to see when they first arrive. All the career girls in London dress like this. And now that we’ve sorted out your hair and your makeup, you look as if you were born to all this –’
She gave me that unnerving kiss again, just on the corner of my mouth.
‘Do you kiss all your new girls like that?’ I asked, emboldened by being dressed again, in my new sophisticated uniform.
To my relief Mimi grinned. ‘What new girls? The club only opened a month ago. Miss Sugar deliberately misled you, making out it had been here for years,’ she said.
‘Sir Simeon’s new toy,’ I said. ‘That’s how Merlin described it.’
‘Did he now? And did he approve?’
‘No. He seemed to resent it, if anything,’ I answered, shaking my head. ‘But I digress. I want to know. Did you kiss Miss Sugar like that when she was new?’
Mimi tipped her head back and laughed from her chest, like a trooper, like she had on the mobile phone last evening. She opened a silver cigarette box and tapped a long, brown cigarette against its lid. She had slipped on the white dressing gown to see me off, but hadn’t bothered to tie it up. Her body was a sliver of pale-brown skin and the hint of curves was visible between the white silk folds.
‘Miss Sugar is not at all as she seems, Suki,’ she said. ‘Don’t be fooled by that schoolmarm exterior. No. We had to initiate her in a very different way when she first came to work for us. Practically had to tie her down.’ She laughed again, and pushed me through the front door. ‘Now off you go.’
6
I punched the security buttons at the door and strode into the shimmering hallway of the club, lit this evening only by a net of tiny white fairy lights. The rest of the hallway was in darkness, but the white marble walls seemed to glow with their own light. I felt a surge of pride. My suggestion about the fairy lights had been taken up, a mere few hours after Mimi had asked me for my ideas.
I wondered why I felt as if I owned the joint. It must have been the clothes. They made me feel on top of the world. In charge of the world, in fact. And, as Mimi had told me just as I was leaving her house, that was, in fact, the case. I was on my own. Neither she nor Miss Sugar were working tonight.
For a second, despite the pinstripes, it all felt scary.
I hesitated in the silent atrium, breathing in Miss Sugar’s scented pot pourri to calm myself. You could almost imagine the building was deserted, it was so quiet, but I knew, from my instructions, that there were several members in the club this evening, plus a guest. If you cocked an ear, you could hear soft music wafting through the door on the right of the hall and light filtered through the red, green and gold fragments of the stained-glass door, beckoning me in.
‘Don’t march in like the cavalry and announce yourself. Sometimes having the staff hovering about inhibits them,’ Mimi had advised, spraying scent behind my ears. It was a heavy musk, not the sophisticated one she usually wore, but one that made you think of silk cushions scattered across a harem tent. ‘Remember they won’t know who you are yet. You could be another guest. Just blend into the background at first and keep an eye. Make sure they’re enjoying themselves.’
‘And if they are? Do I leave them alone?’ I had asked.
‘Play it by ear, darling,’ she’d murmured, turning to look at herself in the mirror. I learned that that was her way of dismissing me. ‘You’ll soon cotton on to what they need.’
The bar room was done out like a comfortable library, with bottle-green book-lined walls, leather Chesterfield sofas and chairs and a roaring log fire which reminded me of the fire that had crackled in Sir Simeon’s bedroom. I found a seat by the fire and crossed one unfamiliar, exposed leg
over the other with a swish of stocking. A handful of men were sitting or standing around the bar.
Mimi had promised me that Mr Hall, the new member, would be easy to spot.
‘He’ll be the one looking unsure of himself, and he’ll probably look a little younger than tonight’s other members. They will all look ultra respectable, like judges or politicians. Most will have grey hair. I say respectable, but I daresay their wives would describe them as complete shits!’
I was sitting too close to the fire, and my skin was prickling up with the heat. I flapped the collar for a moment to cool my skin. The black lace of my camisole tickled the surface of my skin as I fanned myself, and was swallowed into my deep cleavage as I sighed. I glanced down at my leg and saw that my skirt had ridden up, exposing an inch or so of flesh at the stocking top. I was about to tug at my skirt when I thought better of it. The sight of my own thigh had stirred me. I liked seeing the firm white skin exposed there. The sizzling feeling in my stomach from Mimi’s ministrations hadn’t entirely gone away. It was as if I’d taken some kind of drug because I was in a horny mood, and had been ever since I’d left Mimi’s house.
I left the stocking top showing. One or two of the men in the room had noticed me, and were now looking at my leg. My smile grew wider. I swung my foot gently, so that the sliver of flesh between skirt and stocking stretched and shrank with the movement.
A couple of men came in to the room. One of them hesitated at the doorway, looking around the room. Mr Hall, I reckoned. I sat up a little to take notice. I decided that if he hesitated for another count of ten I would go up to him and introduce myself.
But I was distracted by his companion, who marched straight up to the bar and sat down confidently on a bar stool. He was ice blond, stick thin and wearing a very tight white trouser suit. As the barman bent to take the order, I noticed with a thump of shock that he was a she. Was this the unexpected guest? And if so, whose guest was she? Mimi hadn’t specified. She hadn’t mentioned anything about a woman coming. Was she Mr Hall’s wife? Or some other sort of guest?
Mr Hall had also come into the room and was shaking hands with someone who I couldn’t see, someone sitting in a high-backed wing chair.
Meanwhile, the woman’s eyes travelled round the room, resting for a moment on my leg. I swung it again, I thought to shock her but instead her eyes moved up to mine, and she tipped her head up in a kind of greeting. Something about her was familiar.
I could feel a dampness across my upper lip now. I really was too hot. I stood up, desperate to throw the jacket right off so that I could cool myself. I grasped the lapels, ready to do it. I had a mad urge to strip in front of them all, make those sombre mouths snap open at the sight of my bare breasts, invite them to touch me, do more to me if they chose. Why shouldn’t we all be uninhibited? This was private property, after all. We were all members. We were all consenting adults.
It was also the first night of my new job, and I didn’t need to get myself sacked.
I closed the lapels again, breathing hard, trying to ignore the nipples stiffening against the jacket lining. Don’t be daft. Be discreet. I repeated this mantra. Don’t be daft, be discreet. It seemed to sum up the two halves of my personality. Mostly as I crashed through life, dressed like a boy, I was daft, but as long as I was working for Club Crème, I had to be discreet.
A central switch suddenly dimmed the lighting, and some low, jazzy music came on. I had clean forgotten Mimi’s instructions about how long to wait before letting on who I was. The barman seemed to be in charge of the ambience, if it was he who had dimmed the lighting. I realised I was at a real disadvantage. How could I exercise any kind of quiet authority if I didn’t even know the barman’s name?
Mr Hall was talking animatedly to the invisible man in the chair. Everyone was happy. I was the one who looked out of place, I realised. Apart from anything else, I didn’t have a drink, which was pretty lame when I was sitting in a bar. I was hot, I was thirsty, I was a trifle nervous. I was damn well going to have a drink.
I walked up to the bar. The blonde was still there, still alone. She glanced at me and her eyes travelled down the front of my jacket. Then she glanced away, twiddling the stem of her glass. One foot swung idly, dangling a spiked stiletto. I drummed my fingers on the chrome, trying to attract the attention of the barman. I must have a quiet word, introduce myself to him.
The icy blonde looked at me again. Her pale, frosted lips parted, as if to speak.
‘Allow me.’
Mr Hall pushed between us, and picked up her empty glass. I took a good look at him. He looked like a rugby player: handsome, but stocky, his body restless and uncomfortable, as if it wanted to burst out of his immaculate suit. The blonde and I continued staring at each other as Mr Hall presented us with two daquiris. He obviously thought I was a guest. She and I were the only two women in the place, and I suppose I did look as if I had come here to relax after a hard day at the office.
It was fun, no one knowing my identity, but I suspected the barman must know who I was, even if I didn’t know his name. Mimi would have told him, but he seemed to be ignoring me. I got the same feeling I’d had that sweltering day when the prince took me to his hotel in Cairo for the first time. I was anonymous for the time being. I could do what I liked. Within reason, obviously. After all, I was working and, if anything went wrong, it would be reported back to Mimi and, presumably, Sir Simeon. But my brief for tonight was simple. I had been given free rein to watch and please the guests as I saw fit.
The alcohol started to take hold, heating up my veins. I decided to loosen up and enjoy myself.
‘Thank you for the drink,’ I murmured to Mr Hall, bending my elbow to rest it on the bar. The jacket slipped off my shoulder. I drew my hand slowly inside the collar and caressed my skin where the jacket lining had slipped silkily down. My fingertips brushed my breast. To my amazement this lightest of touches sent a bolt of excitement sizzling through me. I hadn’t realised how horny the intimate, rarified atmosphere had made me. Still looking at the blonde woman, I took hold of my breast and started to rub my already perky nipple. The blonde woman’s eyes flashed directly at what my hand was doing. She started to mirror the action, except that her hand moved over the surface of her white jacket, tracing the small swell of her own breast.
‘It’s a pleasure. I gather it’s the tradition here. For a new member to buy everyone a drink. Though mine’s a rather small round tonight. Where’s everyone going?’ Mr Hall said and cleared his throat to call the barman.
I glanced round. I ought to have known the answer to that one. The few old gents who had been scattered round the bar were melting away, nodding at the barman as they headed for the door.
‘Dinner is being served in the oak-panelled dining room next door, sir, and our older members always like to get there sharpish,’ the barman explained, looking from Mr Hall to his companion and still ignoring me. ‘It’s an Italian menu tonight. Do you want to go through?’
‘I don’t think so,’ the blonde woman answered for him. ‘We’re quite happy where we are, aren’t we, Jez?’
The blonde and I pushed our empty glasses together so that they clinked and our hands touched, a few inches from Mr Hall’s.
‘Er, yes,’ Mr Hall said, looking at me for the first time. ‘I’m perfectly happy staying right here.’
That sorted my job out for this evening, I thought. I wondered if I should just beat a retreat. Everyone was happy without any help from me.
‘In that case, we’ll have champagne this time, and we can have some fun,’ the blonde woman said. Her hand shot out and flipped undone the button on my jacket. ‘Oops. I gather that’s a tradition here, too. Having fun, I mean. And guests get special treatment. Isn’t that right, brother, dear?’
‘So my membership form tells me, sis,’ Mr Hall answered, grinning, but he was still looking at me. ‘But what it doesn’t tell me is who our fellow guests are?’
Brother and sister, eh? I very much d
oubted it. Chalk and cheese, more like.
But before I could work out whether there really were any similarities between the two, the same shape nose, for instance, or similar colouring, I found myself grinning back at him. He was definitely the nicer one, whatever else was the truth of their peculiar relationship. My jacket had fallen open where she’d flipped the button undone. It was already halfway off my shoulders. My heart started to race. I realised they could see my hand, still lightly caressing my breast.
I sat up straighter and ran my tongue across my dry mouth. ‘Perhaps I should introduce myself. I’m not actually a guest,’ I started to explain.
‘Does it really matter, now that we’re all here?’ said the blonde, rising from her stool and pushing past him. She pushed my jacket sleeves down so that my elbows were pinned to my sides. Now my breasts jutted out of their expensive lace. ‘You’re not exactly trying to stop me making free, are you? So you must have a pretty clear idea what’s on our minds.’
She sat down again, calmly sipping her champagne and looking me up and down. Just at that moment the music track came to an end and there were a few beats of silence as she and Mr Hall stared at my breasts. The attention made them tingle.
‘I guess you could say the membership is open to interpretation,’ I said, out of the blue. ‘And of course, the aim of the club is that everyone coming through those doors feels totally welcome.’