Club Crème

by Primula Bond

  ‘It’s fine, thank you,’ I started to tell him. ‘The frozen peas did the trick. I can put weight on it and everything.’

  ‘You were supposed to resist the temptation to stick your cock up her fanny until you’d seen to me!’ Avril screeched like the wicked fairy, furious that we were ignoring her. I continued to waggle my foot vaguely in Sir Simeon’s direction and he bent politely to inspect it.

  ‘It really doesn’t suit you, Avril,’ he replied, his voice harsh with warning. He straightened slowly. ‘And it doesn’t suit the mores of my club, either.’

  ‘What doesn’t suit me?’

  ‘All this sewer language.’

  Avril stuck her hand out, and jabbed me in the chest. ‘I was only using the language our hostess here might understand.’

  I took a step towards her, fighting to keep my fists from coming up.

  Sir Simeon was beside me. He looked at me for a moment, staring me down until I felt the anger subside. I could see a pulse going in his neck as his eyes grazed my throat and instantly I wanted to lie down and wave my legs in the air. Literally. I remembered what I’d said to his son, Merlin, about his instincts around women. Both Sir Simeon and Merlin were woman whisperers.

  ‘I think you’d better leave, Avril,’ Sir Simeon said. The quieter his voice became, the more everyone listened. ‘By insulting my new right-hand woman you are insulting me. I think she’s survived her first evening in exemplary fashion. Her job is to oversee everyone’s contentment while they are guests or residents here. Not only did she do that, but she took an active part, as well.’

  I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face. He was the one with the active part, I thought, my pussy smarting from the memory. He didn’t need to defend me like that. But now I felt six feet taller.

  ‘Perhaps there is something we could salvage from all this,’ Avril said, standing up and very slowly pulling on her skin-tight white trousers.

  ‘An apology might do it,’ Mr Hall butted in, finding his voice at last. ‘After all, some people might have thrown us out after what we just did.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Simeon.’

  ‘Not just to Simeon, stupid,’ her brother exclaimed. ‘To Miss Summers.’

  I was feeling so grand just then that I rewarded him with a smile, and was amused to see him pull nervously at his tie. As well he might. I thought I’d lived a pretty wild life out in the desert but compared to what this guy had just done with his sister . . . I decided to ask Sir Simeon, or Mimi, to go over the club rules with a fine-tooth comb. If there were any rules. Because obviously indulging in incestuous relations in front of two equally randy members of staff, even if your sister was pretty churlish about it afterwards, was fine by the management.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Summers,’ Avril said curtly. ‘Actually, I’d like to make it up to you, if that’s all right with Sir Simeon?’

  Everyone waited to hear what she would say next.

  ‘That depends on what you have in mind for Miss Summers, Avril,’ warned Sir Simeon. ‘So long as it doesn’t compromise her position here at the club.’

  ‘Quite the opposite. I want to remove her from the club. At least temporarily. You were right, Miss Summers,’ Avril said, turning to me. ‘We were in it together. Read each other’s minds. I had the advantage because I knew all the players. You were totally new to it. New to the club, new to the kind of reprobates like me who occasionally come here and stir things up. New to the kind of hold this place has over people who come up that alley and through that front door. Because once you are inside the club, something happens to you. Haven’t you noticed?’

  ‘I think I had noticed. But please explain it to me,’ I urged her sweetly. I glanced up at Sir Simeon and could see a crease down one side of his mouth that might or might not suggest amusement.

  ‘Well, it’s pretty obvious after what’s happened here tonight!’ Avril exclaimed, flicking her fingers at the four of us. ‘Everyone becomes ridiculously turned on.’

  ‘Which is why we normally keep the really voracious women out, Avril,’ Sir Simeon said as he stepped forwards and took her elbow, ready to steer her towards the door. ‘Although I am just wondering whether I should employ you to write a glowing brochure for us, singing our praises?’

  ‘I want Miss Summers to come home with me,’ Avril said and pointed at me again. ‘Tonight has been too good to waste. We can carry on, the three of us. You could be our playmate. You look game. What do you say?’

  I waited for Sir Simeon to answer for me, but he wasn’t going to help me with this one. Not that I needed help. It was an easy decision.

  I drained my champagne glass to give me time to think, then buttoned up my jacket. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Grey. My job here has only just started. I don’t think I can favour one member over the others. And I’ve got other club members to see to.’ I glanced over at Sir Simeon. The smile had materialised, pulling up the corner of his mouth. The eyes were still boring in to me. The jacket was done up, the trousers zipped. You would never have guessed that ten minutes ago he was bent over me, slipping his length right inside . . .

  Now I knew the true meaning of ‘pillar of society’.

  ‘See to? In what way?’ Avril demanded.

  I cleared my throat. ‘In any way that they, or I, deem necessary, of course. But I can only act on the precise instructions I’ve been given by my boss. So you’ll have to excuse me.’

  ‘You’ve got her well trained, Simeon,’ Avril sniffed. She opened the glass door. The white light streamed in from the hallway, rousing us all from the cocooned atmosphere of the bar room. ‘But I’ll see you again, Miss Summers. Here or somewhere else. Be sure of that.’

  When they’d gone I waited for Sir Simeon to stop me leaving the room, perhaps invite me to ‘see to’ him, but he simply gave me a little bow, his face rearranged into its customary sombre lines.

  ‘Rick, the barman, is ready to go off duty,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’d help him clear up? He doubles as our bouncer, so he’ll lock up once you’ve gone.’

  So the barman/bouncer had a name. He also had black eyes and night-time stubble to match. As I scuttled about with trays of dirty glasses, feeling well and truly like a skivvy, those eyes were fixed on me, but he said never a word. That suited me just fine. I couldn’t look him in the eye. I stayed until about one and then Rick turned the lights out and disappeared.

  Outside, the night was fresh, with the usual drizzle. I took a deep breath as I started to walk towards Piccadilly to find a cab to take me to my dingy bed and breakfast. So that was how it would be, working at Club Crème. On the one hand, wicked, forbidden pleasure conducted in a safe, enclosed room, planets apart from anything I’d ever experienced, even with Mimi. On the other hand, the constant reminder that I was, in the end, the hired hand.

  The rain began to pour as I walked towards Hyde Park Corner. I couldn’t tell if I’d succeeded or failed. I dreaded facing Mimi tomorrow. I had a feeling she had a claim on Sir Simeon. What would she say about my being bent double by him over a bar stool and fucked in front of the brother-and-sister act?

  I took my shoes off. I wanted to run, but my foot was still tender. I was happiest when I was running. I walked fast instead, to keep the blood pumping round and to try to empty my mind. I had no idea what tonight’s kinky activities had meant. The beginning or the end?

  It doesn’t have to be permanent, I told myself, as I hurried past the opulent windows of Harrods. I thought of all the tatty scraps of newspaper on the table in my room, advertising flights to every tempting corner of the globe. I’m only doing this until I have enough money. And then I’ll be off.

  7

  Late autumn had turned to winter overnight. I turned the scraps of newspaper over on my table: Australia, India, Egypt – the hotter the climate, the better. A bitter draught whistled through the metal frame of the ill-fitting window. I hadn’t slept well. It would be a relief to get out of this dismal room this morning, even though it meant reporting to
Mimi on the fruits of my first dubious evening’s work.

  This time she opened the front door herself. She was dressed in black leather trousers, a black skinny polo-neck jumper that emphasised and clung to every curvy inch of her and gold hoop earrings. Her black hair was plaited into a thick rope that fell over one broad shoulder.

  ‘You were supposed to meet me at the office, not here,’ Mimi snapped. ‘Now I’m just dashing out.’ She turned her back on me and picked up her silver fur coat. ‘Something has cropped up.’

  ‘Nothing to do with last night, I hope? Nothing I did?’ I ventured. She didn’t appear to hear me, but opened a drawer in the hall table and took out a set of keys, which she counted before handing them to me.

  ‘The keys to every door at the club,’ she said, glancing at the big clock and almost shoving me back towards the door. ‘There’s a change of plan. You are going to be acting mistress of the place.’

  ‘About last night –’

  Mimi sighed, and I got a delicious draught of her musky scent.

  ‘Summers, I’m in a hurry. I am going to be in and out of town for the next few weeks. Just take charge, will you?’

  I took the keys. ‘Thank you for having such faith in me, Mimi,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t thank me, Summers. Taking charge is part of your job. Now, I’ll see you in a couple of days. I’ll send some more clothes round to that hovel you live in. I can’t have my girls looking like . . .’ Her eyebrows were thin arcs of disdain as she looked me up and down. ‘You look like a drug dealer in that hooded effort.’

  ‘Did I make a mistake last night? I’m worried that I might have got it wrong. It didn’t go according to plan. I barely even spoke to Mr Hall, who, after all, was the member I was supposed to be looking after.’

  ‘Everyone’s taste and desire was catered for. That’s what they come to the club for. That’s why we keep it so exclusive. Can’t have any Tom, Dick or Harriet wandering in and seeing what members do in their free time. Whatever happens there is for their eyes only.’

  We were out on the doorstep now. Gone was the sensuous warmth of yesterday’s encounter. There was no sign of that big scarlet smile. She was displeased with me for some reason. That was obvious. But I couldn’t press the point. Mimi double-secured all the locks and was looking up and down the street almost furtively, as if she was worried about someone spotting her.

  ‘But Mimi –’ I tried again. She wheeled round.

  ‘Miss Breeze, today,’ she said, scowling. She leaped down the steps towards a silver Mercedes coupé. ‘And I don’t have time to discuss the minutiae of your job. You can find it out for yourself.’

  ‘I thought I was supposed to report back to you,’ I offered.

  I froze on the pavement, the keys jabbing into my hand. She got in to the smart car, started the ignition, then closed her eyes impatiently for a moment. The electric window whizzed down.

  ‘I’ve had a full report, thank you. You’re off the hook for today. Just enjoy a bit of time out, Suki,’ she said, the edge in her voice smoothed out. I looked into her eyes and felt a tiny bit reassured.

  ‘Time out?’ I asked, stepping across to the car and bending down to look straight into her face. ‘But I’ve only just started working. You’ve only just given me these keys.’

  ‘Every day is different. Today I’m busy and you’re not. I’ll see you in a couple of days.’

  The window whirred up, nearly snapping off my nose, and she was halfway down the street before I could blink.

  I stood watching the exhaust of her car hanging in the still, cold air, and saw the day stretching ahead of me. All very well to have some free time, but I was uneasy about not being given another shift at the club and, to make matters worse, she hadn’t paid me for last night. I was stupid for not asking about the money. I still didn’t know if I’d blown it by letting Sir Simeon, of all people, do what he did last night. Then again, perhaps she didn’t know that particular detail?

  Now I had the keys to the most exclusive club in London, and virtually no money. It was a bizarre situation to say the least. I walked back down Earls Court Road to the bed and breakfast, and paced about in my room. But I couldn’t relax. I decided to get some exercise. Maybe I’d try the health suite in the basement of the club. The keys jangled happily in my pocket. Why the hell not? I thought.

  On my way to the tube I stopped at the entrance to Chrissie’s building, but there was no answer when I pressed the bell. Of course not. It was a weekday morning. Jeremy would be counting someone else’s money somewhere in the City, and Chrissie would be in her smart domain, spraying perfume over some heavily rouged ladies in the already suffocating air. I was the one with all the time in the world. I could wander into the store and speak to her. Except they probably wouldn’t let me through the revolving door. A drug dealer, indeed!

  The health suite was approached through a completely different entrance under the Club Crème building, and was open to a wider circle of ‘day’ members as well as the members of the residential club upstairs. The reception area was modern, full of green plants and minimalist prints. I was afraid the muscular blond guy sitting behind the desk wearing a tiny vest and shorts wouldn’t believe who I was and would try to turn me away, but then I noticed a couple of people jogging in off the street and straight through a big red door to the side. They were wearing ‘hooded efforts’ like mine, trainers and cycling shorts, and carrying little bottles of water. I didn’t look out of place at all.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said as I approached his desk, jangling the keys casually. ‘My name is Suki Summers. I work upstairs.’

  He nodded as if he knew who I was, reached behind him, and gave me an entry card.

  ‘Swimming pool, sauna, jacuzzi, health spa – help yourself,’ he said with a wide, white grin.

  I pushed through the red door and was instantly enveloped in the hot, steamy atmosphere of the health club. It was another world. Amongst the vast palms and colourful mosaics, people drifted about like half-naked ghosts in the tropical mist, stepping out of the sauna’s pine cupboard and plunging into the ice pool. Others ploughed up and down the swimming pool, heads held stiffly above the water. At the far end of the pool, a spiral staircase led up to a café, one vast wall of which was painted with a mural depicting a long sandy beach and sapphire sea.

  ‘Fancy a massage before your swim or after?’

  The muscular man was right in front of me, climbing out of the pool and shaking the excess water off his head with a casual flick, as a champion surfer might. Slanted blue eyes peered through his towel, expecting an answer, and I shook my head.

  ‘I have to swim,’ I mumbled, staring longingly at the water. ‘Then I have to –’

  ‘After your swim, then. All part of the personal service here.’

  In the communal changing room I scrabbled through my rucksack. All I had to swim in was a dark-green leotard, a faded remnant from my modelling days. It would have to do. In seconds I was diving in and striking through the water, not looking to right or left until I’d done thirty lengths. The blood was racing through me. My body felt cleansed of the London grime and my head felt clear at last. I’d forgotten how good it felt to expel my nervous energy. Stretching my body to its limits, testing my lungs, eyes stinging with the chlorine, the cold winter world kept at bay by a layer of plate glass.

  I lay down on a lounger, panting for breath, my pulse hammering in my ears. Two beautiful blonde girls in matching white bathing suits approached me.

  ‘A massage, madam?’ one of them asked in a thick Nordic accent. ‘You are new here, yes? It’s all –’

  ‘“Part of the service”, yes, I know. This is my call, girls, thank you.’

  The blond man was back, still in his trunks, but dry. I kept my eyes firmly shut but the goose pimples rising all over my skin told me that he was still there. I felt the energy draining out of me. Let him try to persuade me. After all, I had all day to be pampered, didn’t I?

  ‘I don’
t qualify for the service,’ I remarked dryly. ‘Don’t you have to be blonde to be a member here?’

  I heaved myself into a sitting position. He sat down casually on the end of my lounger. He looked like someone who preferred to run or swim every day, like I did, just in order to function. He obviously kept fit, probably fanatically so. But who wouldn’t, working in a place like this, surrounded by pampered and toned bodies to keep up with? Although he was a bit too cocksure for my liking, I had to admire his unrelenting eyes, the flared Slavic nostrils, the sculpted body, the thick muscles lying like ropes beneath the taut skin. It was almost impossible to avoid glancing down to see what he had packed away in his multi-coloured Speedos. Instead, I kept my eyes on his pecs.

  ‘You’re our first redhead,’ he said and laughed. ‘And what a glorious change it makes. Anyway, most of the blond hair you see in here comes out of a bottle. Apart from mine of course.’

  He combed the said blond hair back over his head and winked at me. My flesh was beginning to heat up again, the cooling effect of my swim evaporating as the steam swirled around us.

  ‘But you won’t be able to take up full membership of the health suite until you’ve had Mikhail’s massage,’ he said.

  ‘Whose massage?’

  ‘Mine. You are in desperate need. I watched you preparing to dive in. Your face is too pale, your shoulders too tense,’ he said. He trailed his thick fingers over me, sketching my features. ‘You have a fantastic body. You obviously like to run. But you also look as if you have come out from under a stone.’

  ‘Charming,’ I spluttered, folding my arms round my knees. ‘I’ve just come back from Egypt, actually.’

  ‘So why on earth did you leave such an exciting place?’

  I hugged my knees closer towards me. He pulled a spotless white T-shirt over his bulging chest and started dragging my towel out from under me.