'Yes, well, I've missed Angie and all of you, and the warmth, and the sunshine.'
She looked up above the bright lights of the square to see the sweep of stars above them, blew out her cigarette smoke and watched it drift upwards into the evening air.
'We'll get going soon,' said Valerie, 'but there's time for another coffee if you fancy.'
The drive from Montpellier was a journey through darkness. For a while they talked but soon, consciousness and conversation became a burden and Karen found herself drifting in and out of wakefulness, sometimes aware of the ribbon of road in the lights before them, sometimes not. When they turned off the road and passed through the old stone gateway, Karen was fully awake.
The pool was in darkness though the lights about the main entrance of the house and inside the portico shone into the night.
'The Empire of Light,' mused Karen as they approached.
'What do you mean?' asked Valerie.
'The Empire of Light,' repeated Karen. 'It's a painting by Rene Magritte. I used to have it in an art book when I was a kid. It's always been one of my favourite pictures. The house reminds me of it; deserted and mysterious, with the lights just keeping the dark night at bay.'
'Well, I suppose most of them have gone to bed. It's gone eleven o'clock.'
'No,' observed Karen as they pulled up in front of the house. 'I can see through the french windows. There are a couple of people at the bar.'
'Mmm,' responded Valerie, switching off the headlights and squinting through the darkness, 'it looks like Kim and Jackie. As soon as we've taken your things up I'll have a word with them and find out what's been going on with Auntie Pauline.'
Apart from the two figures they had glimpsed through the windows, all was deserted as they ascended the stairs.
'Are you coming down for a nightcap?' asked Valerie as they placed the suitcases on the bed.
'No, Val ... no, I won't. It's a bit late and I know you want to talk to Kim and Jackie. There'll be plenty of time in the morning.'
Valerie smiled and kissed her on the cheek.
Karen returned her smile and said. 'Thanks Val, for picking me up and everything.'
'That's all right, deary,' replied Valerie, squeezing her hands. 'And after lunch tomorrow, we'll give you a little welcome back treat. Come down to the beauty parlour at two o'clock, yes?'
Karen stared into her eyes for a few moments, remembering how she had been held prisoner down there on those two occasions and been pampered, shaved and driven almost wild with shameful lust, a lust which she then had been loath to admit but now desired to pursue. Was that not in part, after all, why she had returned?'
'Y-yes Val, er ... two o'clock.'
Valerie opened the door to leave her, but turned as she was about to close it and whispered, 'Don't forget.'
The door clicked softly and Karen was alone.
Nothing had changed in the room. Sonia said she would keep it for her - for the time when she returned to the house. Karen began to unpack and was almost halfway through when she saw the white envelope trapped and sticking out from the right-hand drawer of the dressing table. She looked at it for a moment, wondering. When she moved closer, she saw that her name was written across the envelope in blue ink. She reached down to pull it free but it evidently would not move without the risk of tearing unless the drawer was opened. Karen pulled, released the envelope, and saw below it in the drawer a plain white box some 25 centimetres long. She regarded the box but did not touch it. Instead, she opened the envelope.
Inside, there was a folded note on pale blue paper. She opened the note out and read the neat script. 'Welcome home my dear. I'm sorry I could not be here for your return, but I will be back soon.' It was signed simply, 'S'.
'Welcome home,' breathed Karen, reading over the note again. 'I suppose it's the only home I've got.'
She replaced the note in its envelope and laid it inside the drawer, turning her attention next to the white box. She picked it up carefully, surprised that it was heavier than she expected it to be, and placed it on the top of the dressing table. The box was not sealed and she lifted the lid from it quite easily.
For some time she looked at the object inside the box without touching it. It was at least twenty centimetres long and five centimetres thick. The head, a realistic if moderately oversized representation of a circumcised penis, terminated a deep pink shaft which was not smooth but finished with small, soft, rubber teats. Towards the base, it flared out sharply and ended in a rubber ring. Below the ring, on a hard plastic cap, was a rotary switch. Karen lifted the dildo from its dark blue velvet lining, feeling her heartbeat quicken. She could see herself in the mirror, holding it, and behind her, the bed. She held it in her hands for a few seconds then reached with her fingers inside the ring and turned the switch. At once it began to purr and to move, vibrating ripples pulsating along the shaft from the head to the base. She took a deep breath and switched it off before putting it down next to its box. Beside the box, she placed the silver locket.
She turned on the radio and tried several stations until she found one playing cool jazz, then she began to undress, glancing at the object of lust as it lay where she had left it, silent and waiting. Some ten minutes later, she emerged from the shower, dried herself and entered the bedroom naked. She switched on the bedside lamp and a lamp next to the dressing table before switching off the main light. She walked back over and slowly, almost cautiously, took up the object which had so occupied her mind since its revelation. She could feel a burning inside her, a growing hunger which this thing in her hands could indulge and gratify. Why had Sonia, if indeed it was Sonia, left it there? Did she know her so well that she could expect her to make use of it? Perhaps it should not matter anymore.
Karen sat down on the edge of the bed, rose up and tilted the dressing table mirror down, then returned to the bed, now able to see her reflection. She turned the switch and the rubber organ once more came to life in her hands. In the mirror, she watched herself part her legs and bring the quivering pink head down into contact with the focus of her sensuality. It was cool against the heat of her sex but the head easily parted the reddened lips, finding them moist and yielding. She continued to watch her image, to see the bulbous head torment her with its demonic promise until its electric fire was spreading through her body. She fell backwards on to the bed, spread her legs further and pulled up her knees until her feet rested on the edge. The purring organ entered her easily. Indeed, she needed to encourage it hardly at all, for the moving ripples on the shaft, passing from head to base, caused it to enter her of its own accord as though it was an eager, living entity filling her with its lust. Letting down her legs, she twisted over, tightening on the pulsating shaft as she lifted herself on to her hands and knees with her behind facing the mirror. The currents were building up uncontrollably within and she knew she was approaching the time when they would surge up into every nerve of her body and take her over completely. Looking under her breasts and between her widespread legs, she could see it in the mirror, working inside her with an urgent life of its own. She snatched at a pillow and pulled it down under her head, clasping either end of it with her hands. But she wanted the shaft to enter deeper still, to extend throughout her, to become one with her. Then the golden light burned forth and she squirmed her body about, her hands crushing the pillow inwards under her face so that her cries were stifled within it while her body shook in repeated spasms.
When she withdrew the instrument of gratification, she was exhausted; not through the act itself but because her climax had fulfilled and terminated a long and tiring day. After this, there was nothing to do but sleep and dream, coiled within the womb of the bed.
In the darkness she relived fleeting moments, such as the taxi passing through London in the endless chaos of traffic. Then the airport, a dazzling, revolving sea of lights and people drifting before her closed eyes. Eventually, a velvet mask of peace and quiet descended about her senses.
Was the journey back to France all a dream? Was the conversation with Valerie at the little pavement cafe in Montpellier all in her mind? Karen turned over, part awake, slowly coming to and half expecting the apartment in London to materialise around her and the sound of police and ambulance sirens to intrude into her consciousness. She opened her eyes, looked about and saw the morning sunlight spilling through the Venetian blind. Just as on her first morning at the house all those months ago, the powder blue curtains were left open so as to dispel any doubts she might have had on waking.
She thought she had overslept, but the clock radio blinked to 7.15 as she looked at it. Outside in the warm air the birds were singing. There were no car horns, no sirens; there was only harmony. When she went to the bathroom, it still lay there in the sink where she had rinsed it, purposeful and unambiguous. She took it quickly out and dabbed away the few remaining drops of water with a towel. The open box still lay upon the dressing table and she carefully placed the dildo inside, fitted back the lid and put the box into the drawer, as close as she could remember to the spot where she had first seen it. She closed the drawer softly upon the shade of her guilt and wondered if whoever had put it there might not return in her absence to ascertain whether or not it had fulfilled its purpose. As for the 'who' in the equation, there were two likely possibilities. The first, that it had been left with the note, Karen now found darkly amusing. The alternative, that it might be a part of a devious scheme of Pauline's, she did not wish to contemplate.
In one side of the range of built-in wardrobes - the side which she had not looked into the previous evening and the side she expected to find empty - there were clothes and shoes. She stood for a little time regarding them, wondering why they were there, before reaching inside.
Among the clothes she saw dresses, tops and skirts, some colourful and casual, some glamorous, some more daring than she had ever owned herself. Some of the styles made her heart beat faster. Where was she going to wear these? On a low chest of drawers below the clothes stood the shoes, some of them smart but practical, some of them not at all conceived for everyday wear. She stooped and picked out a pair of open sandals in metallic PVC, with ankle straps and little silver buckles to hold them firmly in place. The heels were high and slim, so high that she could not imagine trying to walk any great distance in them. She picked out a dress from the end of the rail. The dress was black, short and made of frothy nylon lace. Its long sleeves ended in lace ruffles and the ruffled neck was cut very low and reinforced by curved wires sewn inside the material. It was intended to be worn with the breasts supported but exposed. Every one she examined was her size, though that meant little, for all of the girls were of similar build and height.
Pulling open the drawer below she discovered a feast of lingerie, underwear and stockings, all inside unopened transparent packets. She did not venture to undo any of them but could see quite easily that many of the styles were not from any high street shop. Her eyes beheld sheer nylon, fine lace and some rather more exotic materials. She closed the drawer and the wardrobe doors, trembling slightly and seeing herself in the long mirror.
Tm all right as I am for now,' she muttered, regarding her slim form in its pink cotton dress with deep, white belt and short sleeves, and her white, wedge heel sandals. With her light brown hair falling about her shoulders, Karen pulled open the door of her room and set out to renew old acquaintances.
'I knew you'd come back!' cried Angela, kissing Karen with enthusiastic warmth as she squeezed her arms.
Mike kissed her too, then dark haired Lorna. Jackie, sitting across the conservatory with an older girl who was unknown to Karen, waved her arm about in a circle and called, 'Hiya sweetie!'
Mike brought fresh orange drinks from behind the bar. They sat and talked, exchanging tales that could be exchanged, hinting at some that could not. At length, Karen asked, 'Where are the others? Where's Annette, Val and Kim?'
'Yes, well,' began Angela, 'Val and Kim are at the pool, Annette's in Paris on, er business with Rachel and two of the others, and Cheryl is supposed to be on the way back with Sonia.'
'And James? Is he still working in the annexe?'
'Oooh!' cried Angela with mock seriousness, 'I think he's got domestic problems
'She means his boyfriend's cleared off!' cut in Mike.
'Well, yes,' continued Angela, 'something like that. Sonia gave him a few days away to get himself sorted out.'
James, thought Karen, knew all their intimacies. Everything that was recorded in those secret rooms, he watched, mixed and edited then mastered on to tape, disk and film for reproduction and marketing. What a job, thought Karen. Yes, you would have to be a little different to cope with that.
'I'll go down as I am,' she said to herself. 'There's no point in putting on a bathrobe. Anyway, this time of the day it's going to look odd if I'm seen like that.'
Karen glanced at the clock. It said 1.50. Her heart was beating fast.
'It's different now,' she said to herself in the mirror. 'I know what is going to happen, and they know that I know. Christ! Why should I bother about it? They're at it all the time - Angela, Jackie, Lorna. What makes me so special, so bloody different?'
She ran her hands down over the gold, stretch lame dress, over her breasts and down to her thighs, and stared hard at her reflection in the mirror. 'We know we didn't come back just for the weather, don't we?' The eyes flashed back at her, as though another being stood beyond the glass, a being who spoke the words and revealed to her what she would not as readily tell herself.
She twisted about before the mirror, seeing the short dress stretch and mould about her figure like a second skin.
'God,' she breathed, turning towards the door, 'why do I go on kidding myself?' She set off down to the beauty parlour.
'Come on in, deary,' said Valerie a few minutes later, pulling open the blue door and stepping aside. Karen looked at her and smiled back weakly. 'You look very glamorous in that dress,' she observed, as Karen entered the main room.
'It was in my wardrobe, with lots of others. I've never seen any of them before,'
'You'd make a stunning model,' commented Valerie, 'you really would.'
Sonia had once told her something like that, she remembered. The proposition had not seemed altogether unattractive even then.
Karen looked about the room where her suppressed carnality, like a jewel concealed beneath the darkness of a velvet cloth, had first been hinted at. Everything was as she remembered - the sinks and mirrors, the warm, low lights, the two hairdryers at the end of the room, the low bench with its hidden restraints and its covering of soft pink towel, and the oddly shaped chair, its voluptuous purpose obscured by the dark blue sheet.
'Where's Kim?' she asked.
'She's gone off to Beziers,' replied Valerie.
'Oh, to Beziers, so it's just -'
'Just ourselves,' cut in Valerie. 'Is that all right?'
'Y-yes ... yes, I think so.'
Suddenly, one to one did not seem the same. With three, it was only a game and not as personal, but she knew Valerie so well that it should not have mattered.
if you'd rather not bother ...' said Valerie, smiling.
Karen looked her up and down. She wore a high collared catsuit of dark blue stretch vinyl. Below her curly black hair, two large gold earrings swung and her dark brown eyes were soft and understanding. Karen hesitated.
'No, it's OK, it's just that I expected -'
'Always expect the unexpected,' said Valerie, reaching round and easing down the zipper at the rear of Karen's dress. Karen allowed her to continue until the dress was loose about her body and pulled away from her shoulders to reveal her breasts. After a few moments, she was naked apart from her minimal black lace briefs and her sandals.
i thought you might like a massage,' said Valerie. 'Something to make you feel at home and relaxed again.' Karen smiled. 'Take your shoes off, then sit down on the bench.'
Karen did as she was told, placing her sanda
ls under the bench. Valerie moved around behind her but Karen remained staring ahead, trembling a little in anticipation. She heard a rustle and a clink of metal, but still did not turn. Then something was placed over her head, something which obscured the light from her eyes and caused her to raise her arms defensively.
'Val! What, what .. ?'
'Don't worry, lovey! You know I'm not going to harm you!'
She lowered her arms, feeling the straps tighten round and over her head and around her neck. The leather pads squeezed over her eyes until all was blackness. Passing through her mind was the thought that she could easily reach up and undo the harness if she so desired, so the whole thing must be only for effect. Hands continued to move about her head, then there was a metallic scraping, followed by a soft click, then a second and a third.
'Val, what's happening?'
There we are', came the voice, 'nice and neat, and quite fantastic. It's a pity you can't see what it looks like.'
'Val, this isn't being ... you wouldn't .. ?'
'If you mean being recorded, no, of course it isn't. You're the last person I would play a trick like that on. I'm not Pauline.'
'I know, Val, I'm sorry.'
Karen lifted her hands to feel the harness, running her fingers over the eye pads and around the leather straps until she reached the buckles. Her fingers stopped abruptly.
'Val - it's padlocked! What are you doing?'
'It's better if you can't remove it,' answered Valerie, watching her tug at the harness. 'It's all part of our little game.'
Karen still had her hands pressed to her face when Valerie reached around her and slipped a steel bracelet on to first one wrist and then the other before she could pull away. Karen instinctively tried to tug her hands apart but it was no use; the bracelets were quite secure. She lowered her arms and ran her fingers over the smooth steel bands, touching the short connecting links.
House of Intrigue Page 4