Roger smiled and inched the jar towards me. ‘It’s something rare for you to sample. It gleams and pulses with the exquisite light of Neptune’s moon. A potion that is burnished by the oriental sun, seeded by gods and stolen from an Egyptian tomb.’
‘Cut the shite, Roger, and get on with it.’
‘Impatience, my sweet. Surely you of all women yearn to sample this forbidden fruit? Three Dasher Trading employees died smuggling several crates of it out of Egypt. The ancient lower classes were barred from tasting this elixir and sacred priestly ritual kept it safe from secular use. It is the draught Count Alessandro di Cagliostro searched fruitlessly for.’
I yawned again. ‘Oh Roger, what a tall story. You really should be ashamed of yourself.’
I quivered with excitement and tried to feign detachment but deep down my intuition was telling me that the cordial was authentic. Curiosity was compelling me to sample it and every cell in my body was crying out to taste it.
Roger studied me intently then clicked his fingers. ‘Basil, fetch me a spoon.’
Basil grabbed a silver tablespoon from the sink and proffered it to his master with a courtly flourish. Roger winked at him. Clearly they were milking the situation for their own amusement and had planned how this farce would play out.
I lost all patience. ‘I’m exhausted. Please hurry up so I can retire to bed.’
Basil looked sheepish and Roger scowled. ‘Sasha, what’s happened to your much lauded sense of humour?’
‘I’ve mislaid it. But let’s test yours, shall we? Offer me the potion, on your knees, and I’ll willingly sample it.’
Basil laughed. Roger tried to stare me down but I gazed back steadily without blinking. He sighed and got down onto the tiles. I tried not to laugh but the sight of Mr Roger C.D. Dasher, Gentleman kneeling on my kitchen floor was comedic.
Basil prised the wax away and removed the sealant. Roger plunged the spoon into the jar and extracted a transparent fluid. It smelt strongly of attar of roses and I couldn’t resist moving in a little closer. He dipped his finger in the Pharaoh’s elixir and when he touched it to my lips I was powerless to resist. I ran my tongue around my lips and sucked the sweet liquid into my mouth. My resistance crumbled. It was indescribably luscious; the amalgamation of everything delicious I’d ever tasted. The ambrosial elixir exploded in my mouth but I resisted the urge to help myself to more of it. Roger dismissed his manservant. Basil slithered out and from the corner of my eye I thought I saw him flick his long tail out of the way of the closing door. I realised then that my senses were becoming somewhat deranged.
Roger and I were alone but I didn’t give a shite. He rose to his feet with a knowing smirk. ‘Perhaps you’d like another taste, my sweet?’
‘Mmmnnn, oh yes.’
He poured out more elixir and offered me the tablespoon filled to the brim. I sipped greedily and licked the spoon clean. I didn’t care that Roger was gently stroking my face and moving slowly downwards. I heard the spoon clatter down onto the tiles and made no protest when Roger tentatively caressed my breasts. Having noted that I wasn’t resisting, he pulled me closer and placed little kisses all down my throat and across my cleavage. A curious warmth started in the pit of my stomach and stealthily crept across my heart. I was utterly relaxed and calm. My mind was flowing colours and I was incapable of thinking clearly.
In the back of my brain, I registered the sound of a coach careering off down Main Street, its wheels clattering over the cobblestones. I idly wondered how Roger was going to get home.
Roger kicked the spoon out of the way and untied my apron. He effortlessly lifted me out of my clogs and flicked them onto the fire. The flames leapt up and I felt hot all over. Roger seized the tortoiseshell comb holding my hair up and tossed it onto the flames as well. I didn’t care and kept faith with his every action. His supreme confidence was soothing. I was exhausted and tired of making all the decisions. I wanted someone else to take charge.
I could no longer hear any noise from the docks but was aware of the sound of the sea caressing the jetty. Sound only reached me in mysterious pulses. I became a mermaid, naked except for pearls the size of grapes. A glittering fishtail extended from my waist. My hair floated around me in the water and I was playing, turning over and up, through and down. I slid down the underside of a massive wave. The waters were deep; so deep even I could have drowned. My breath was noisy in my ears, my heart thumping. I took hold of a passing dolphin. He reminded me of Satan and I wanted to believe he was taking care of me.
The water became colder and deeper. Monstrous squid waved their tentacles, sharks bared their teeth and examined me with polite interest. I had no fear of them. Virile naked mermen beckoned me. Neptune’s son held out his arms to me, his breath was warm on my throat and I felt his erection nudging my quim. We joined an underwater party, a soirée of exotic sea creatures all sipping champagne from conch shells. Several mermen and mermaids were enjoying group sexual congress, joyfully slipping and sliding over and into one another. The mermaids were insatiable. When finished with one merman, they either beckoned for another or lavished their caresses on a mermaid. It was a daisy chain of sensuality, their exotic fishtails flashing luminous green.
I was of this world but apart. My cynicism dissolved completely and I was more trusting than I’d ever been as a child. This alone should have set off alarm bells but it didn’t. For when I looked at Roger he radiated pure white light and his golden hair shone like a halo. Yes, I thought, Eva is right. Roger really does look like the Archangel Gabriel. I knew the comparison to be ridiculous and giggled. Roger’s actions were mysterious but for some unfathomable reason I trusted him unconditionally.
My apron lay abandoned on the floor and I was somewhere on the ceiling. His fingers nimbly worked their way down the pearl buttons of my bodice but I just laughed. ‘I must say you’re very skilled at undressing women. Roger, you could easily find gainful employment as a kept man.’
His voice reached me from across an ocean and I had to swim back to hear what he said. ‘You’re the only girl I want. Surely you’ve realised I’m madly in love with you?’
‘Oh, Roger, don’t be daft.’
He wasn’t offended in the least. It was his move and he was playing a longer game. He switched tack. ‘Did you care for the potion, my love?’
‘Yes, it’s sensational.’
Roger answered with a kiss of such gentleness he startled me. I’d always perceived him to be an avenging hunter preying on innocence. His lips were soft, full and most pleasing. He kissed me until I was breathless and I found myself twining my arms around his neck. He felt wonderful and I was surprised that instead of pushing him away, I wanted more of him. Why?
Before I could reach any conclusions, Roger ran his finger down my throat and set off another wave of rippling impulses. He lingered on my lips and blew gently on my skin. A wave of warmth suffused me, all the way down to my quim. He moved his hands over my breasts then down across my ribs and stomach. Wherever he touched me, he created uncontrollable sensations of pleasure. When Roger’s hands slithered further down my body, I relaxed and abandoned myself to his touch. His gold signet ring flashed in the lamplight and damn near blinded me. The Dasher coat of arms seared itself into my brain. I closed my eyes and willingly allowed him every intimacy.
Roger worked my bodice open and loosened the ribbons of my chemise. Deftly he separated the complexity of strings, buttons and hooks, then gently cupped my breasts and circled my nipples with his thumbs. He toyed with one nipple then the other and the colours in my head swirled, from pink to mauve, to gold and back again. He gently nibbled my lower lip until I surrendered my mouth to him. My head fell back as Roger caressed me from my lips to my breasts. Instead of resisting him, I arched upwards and offered myself to the pleasure of his knowing touch. Each kiss seared my flesh and my resistance crumbled as I gave my body over to the new sensations. I felt Roger moving closer and closer to his goal but every time he touched my body an i
ndecent wave of pure lust flooded my being. Steamy sensuality made me more reckless than I’d ever been in my whole life.
A tension I didn’t understand was building. Roger moved me over his lap so I was straddling him. My clogs had burnt fiercely and the kitchen fire had died down. I should have felt chilled but instead I was suffused with the warmth of uncontrollable sensuality. He inched up my petticoats and caressed my ankles then worked his way further up until he was feathering my inner thighs. Roger savagely ripped into the fabric of my lacy bloomers and gently eased two skilled digits into my quim. So deep was the pleasurable sensation that I thought I’d burst into flames but his fingers persisted in their crafty play. Finally my tension unwound into a flash of light and I dived backwards into the ocean and swam joyously in the sensational aftershock.
I’m not being coy but the rest of the night dissolved into a blur. However I do remember being carried up two flights of stairs. His muscles strained against the fabric of his evening jacket and I felt his shoulders flexing. He was very strong and carried me like a compliant doll. I watched our shadows with fascination as it was all so new and strange.
I clumsily held up a candelabra to light our way and hot wax dripped onto the back of Roger’s neck. He didn’t flinch. Sheer wickedness made me tip more burning wax onto his skin but he ignored everything except our steady ascent. He kicked open the door to my private abode and intuitively made his way to my boudoir.
I lapsed in and out of consciousness. It seemed amusing to suddenly find myself naked with a fully dressed man towering over me. His shirt front was glaringly white and his eyes were bottomless black pools. In a leisurely manner he removed his evening tie, jacket and shirt and dropped them on the floor.
I was utterly fixated and obsessed with the smallest change in light patterns. I lay on my bed and watched the play of shadow over his sharply defined muscles. Dark was no longer the opposite to light, evil and good were indistinguishable. I looked back at my previous self and couldn’t believe I’d ever experienced fear or uncertainty. Nothing made sense anymore. His shadow on the wall moved closer, a massive creature looming over me as I lay vulnerable and naked on the bed.
Roger paused with one hand on his trouser buttons, ‘Sasha, always remember this – you made an unwise choice. Because you opened your door to the devil, you are now solely responsible for what is about to happen. For the devil can only manifest in your life if he has your explicit permission.’
Before I had time to think about this, he stroked my body all the way down to the junction of my thighs and set to kissing and licking me. I was lost. My head swam and while trying to fathom his meaning, I passed out cold.
I awoke at dawn and found myself alone. The dark red bloodstain on the bed linen boldly announced the loss of my virginity. I finally understood what Roger had meant. Undoubtedly he’d missed his calling, he would have made a brilliant lawyer capable of rivalling Algernon Wolff. My mouth was dry, my brain ached and the slightest movement was torture. There was an orchestra in my head and they were playing the 1812 Overture with resounding cannons. I wanted to lie very still forever but instead I hurriedly bathed and hastened down to the kitchen.
Roger had secreted the elixir vitae and the music box in the small back pantry where I kept all my fondants, icings and cake decorating equipment. He’d pinned an anonymous note to the elixir’s velvet shroud with his rosebud nosegay.
My love, you will dance only with me tonight.
The Pharaoh’s elixir is yours, to dispose of as you wish.
Naturally I took him at his word and quickly slurped down a hair of the dog that had bitten me. It cured my ills. I also tipped a substantial quantity of elixir into the cream filling I was preparing for the croquembouche. I couldn’t help myself because I knew the attar of roses fragrance would permeate the cream filling and enhance the aroma of the hothouse roses.
By mid-afternoon, I realised Maggie, Snuff and Dolores had been sampling the cream filling while assembling the croquembouche. Dolores was especially taken, ‘Gosh, Sasha, this cream is really something. It smells of roses and reminds me of, um . . . I don’t know what. Mmmnnn, I feel real warm and kind of restless.’
She fanned herself and loosened her clothing.
Snuff was red in the face. He goosed Dolores affectionately. ‘Desist immediately. For if you undo your bodice any further, the whole of Wolfftown will be admiring your splendid bosom.’
Indeed.
About an hour later I left the shop floor and returned to the kitchen. I discovered Snuff skilfully pleasuring both Dolores and Maggie in the walk-in pantry, while a large pot of sugar syrup boiled unchecked on the stove. Dolores’s skirts were hitched to her waist and she’d accommodated Snuff by bending over a pile of bulging apple sacks. He was ravishing her while dexterously stroking Maggie’s bare breasts at the same time. Maggie lay spreadeagled on the bench in front of Dolores, with petticoats raised high, her cunny exposed and her head resting comfortably on a large wheel of Brie cheese. She gasped and moaned with pleasure whilst receiving the attentions of Dolores’s clever little tongue.
I was impressed that my people were so ambidextrous and resourceful but not surprised. Let’s face it, they’d never been less than conscientious and cooperative when carrying out their duties. In the general scheme of things the boiling syrup was a minor oversight.
The pantry had never seen so much activity. The wooden shelves were quivering and in danger of collapse. Several condiments and jars of peach preserve were stealthily making their way over the edges to destruction and all hell was about to be unleashed in something of a crescendo. So before they noticed me, I quietly closed the pantry door and dealt with the boiling syrup.
I was perplexed. I knew Snuff had been having an affair with Dolores but I hadn’t realised he fancied Maggie as well. Had they been discreetly indulging in a ménage a trois or was it the Pharaoh’s elixir at work again? I was worried but from what I’d seen, Snuff was well equipped to handle both girls at the same time while maintaining the kitchen’s equilibrium. Besides, they’d been selflessly working day and night, just to ensure my patisserie prospered and her Ladyship retained her reputation as Wolfftown’s most consummate hostess.
Self-doubt niggled at the corner of my mind – perhaps I shouldn’t have added the Pharaoh’s elixir to the croquembouche cream?
But it was too late for regret and I still had a lot of work to do.
14
SINS OF THE CAKE
It was the night of the Dasher Estate Winter Ball. I was more than a tad nervous but our preparations went ahead without any hitches and we had everything in place in the ballroom annex well before midnight. Everyone was terribly excited as we toasted our venture with a couple of purloined bottles of champagne.
In the privacy and warmth of the linen room my six croquembouche bearers were getting naked so Serge, Snuff and Charlie could slather them all over in gold paint. I stood impatiently outside the door, as we had to wait for the paint to dry before they could slip into their red satin loincloths.
When the bearers finally emerged, the Dashers’ residential artists and servants clustered around and studied them from every angle. There was a minute’s silence before anyone spoke and my heart sank. I need not have worried.
‘Gawd, will you look at them, eh?’
‘Wonderful. Wonderful.’
‘Here’s to you, Serge mate. They’re truly a work of art.’
‘Gees, they look like golden gods.’
Serge grinned, ‘Excellent, because I was rather thinking of Adonis in his prime. Sasha, how about I finish the lads off with some hair brilliantine and a little black kajal? I brought it back from India, it’s a black eye ointment that enhances the eyes.’
Serge was right. He skilfully applied the black ointment to the inner lids of the bearers’ eyes and it transformed their boyish faces into those of exotic temple dancers. The Dasher maids were transfixed by these wondrous semi-naked creatures and one reached out to tentati
vely caress the golden pectorals of a muscular bearer. It was as though she wanted to see if he was real. Will Crowthorne gave her a saucy wink and she blushed to the roots of her hair and rushed back to the kitchen.
Having satisfied myself that everything was organised, I changed into my rose red ballgown and Dolores swirled my hair up and ornamented the style with three white roses. She whispered, ‘I learnt a lot when I was a pavement angel. You should see what those plain girls get up to in order to catch the eye of the mens. You is a natural beauty so it’s easy. I know some whores who take hours to get their war paint on.’
Maggie sweetly admonished me, ‘About time we sees you in something other than them riding jodhpurs or them wooden kitchen clogs. Scrubs up a real treat don’t she, eh, Snuff?’
‘Too right. I was just thinking you’re the spitting image of Miss Lily Kane. I saw her in Paris, performing at the Cabaret de L’Enfer. She’s a fine-looking woman.’
I was dying to hear all the juicy details but there just wasn’t time.
Maggie unwrapped my dancing slippers. ‘Them local blokes is still in mourning for Miss Lily. I bet she’s having a real wild time of it in Monte Carlo. Did you see her in that daring swimming costume in the latest gazette? She even had a little matching bathing cap on her curls.’
I’d seen the photograph and I’d laughed at the way Lily was winking at the photographer.
I wished Lily and Grandpa could have been there to see my catering debut. Grandpa had refused to pass up a major horse racing carnival on the mainland just for the sake of Clare Dasher’s ball. And I’d been too proud to ask him to stay for my sake.
Initially I couldn’t understand why Lady Dasher had two ballrooms, then I realised she’d hired two dance orchestras. It ensured that there was always ballroom dancing in progress. Everything was timed so that when one orchestra took a break, the other would start up. This kept the music fresh and lively and everyone could foxtrot until the sun came up.
The Scandalous Life of Sasha Torte Page 19