Black Orchid

by Roxanne Carr

  'Whaddaya mean?'

  Maggie ignored the belligerent scowl and continued. 'You're not up to it, my dear.'

  'I've never had any complaints before.'

  'No, but then sheep can't speak, can they?'

  They both jumped as Antony's voice came from behind them.

  'Wot's that supposed ter mean, then?' Darren took a step towards Antony then, eyeing his superior physique, obviously thought better of it.

  'It means it's time for you to leave. And try to learn a few manners before you next approach a lady.'

  Darren swung towards the door, his high colour signalling he was offended. As he reached the door, he turned back to Maggie and spluttered.

  'I'll tell you wot your trouble is, darlin' – you're frigid!'

  'Get out,' Antony said, his voice dripping boredom.

  'I didn't enjoy it anyway, bleedin' lesbian!' was Darren's parting shot as he slammed out of the door.

  Antony turned to Maggie and raised an eyebrow at her.

  'Are you all right?'

  She nodded, then couldn't keep back the laughter bubbling in her throat. Antony joined in.

  'Frigid!' he said.

  They put their arms round each other and laughed until the tears were running down their cheeks. When they had recovered, Antony brushed the hair out of her eyes tenderly. Holding her gaze, he asked, 'I'm sorry, I don't know how that boor got through.'

  Maggie shrugged. 'Don't worry – I've dealt with far worse than him on the outside. It was probably Alexander's idea of a joke.'

  'You could be right. If you're OK, do you feel up to the last interview?'

  'Is this one civilised?'

  'I'd say he is.'

  Maggie laughed.

  'Fancy him yourself, do you?'

  Antony let her go and wandered back to the door.

  'Mind your own business,' he replied good naturedly.

  'Well, so long as he is half way decent, perhaps he could join me for some lunch – I'm starving!'

  'That shouldn't be a problem. I'll have something sent up.'

  Maggie went to brush her hair and thought longingly of the Jacuzzi. She felt grubby and wished there was time to freshen up before she met the final candidate, but already she could hear the door opening and the sounds of heavy male footsteps coming into the room. For the first time in a long time, she wondered if she would be able to muster the enthusiasm required to put him through his paces. Laying down her brush with a sigh, she went back into the office to greet him.

  'Hello, sorry to keep you waiting, I . . .'

  She trailed off as she saw the man who had come in and was looking out of the window. He had pulled back the curtains and bright sunlight streamed in, outshining the lamps. He turned slowly at the sound of her voice and all Maggie's tiredness fled as she was caught by his dark eyes.

  He was wearing clean, but well-worn denims with heavy soled tan leather boots and a wide belt. His denim shirt looked soft from many launderings. It clung lovingly to the breadth of his strong shoulders and was open at the neck, revealing the merest hint of crisp, dark chest hair.

  Raising her eyes to his face, Maggie saw that he was smiling at her and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. He had a firm, well-shaped mouth which lifted slightly more on the left than the right when he smiled. His nose was slightly hooked, but perfectly proportioned, his eyes, so dark they were almost black, widely spaced and framed by thick, black lashes.

  His skin was tanned, the tiny laughter lines radiating out from the corners of his eyes looked paler, as if he had spent a lot of time squinting in the sun. And his hair was as black and glossy as an American Indian's, falling in a thick widow's peak over his forehead and curling wildly round his ears.

  Recovering herself slightly, Maggie moved towards him and offered him her hand.

  'How do you do? I'm Maggie.'

  'Brett,' he said, clasping her slender hand in his capable fingers.

  Maggie felt the tremors tingling up her arm and swallowed, hard.

  'I hope you don't mind, but I've ordered lunch. It's been a hectic morning.'

  She blushed as she realised what she had said and he smiled at her again. Maggie warmed to him and indicated with a wave of the hand that he should sit on one of the rattan chairs. As he did so, she thought of Antony and Alexander snooping behind the two-way mirror and knew this time, she wanted some privacy.

  Casually wandering over to the two-way mirror, she blew a kiss at its opaque surface and flicked the privacy switch. Alexander was going to be furious! Serve him right for letting Darren slip through the net. She smiled to herself as she thought how she had outwitted him for once. Just then there was a knock at the door and one of the kitchen staff appeared with a hostess trolley. Thanking her, Maggie wheeled it into the room and locked the door behind her.

  'It's just salad and baked potatoes, I'm afraid,' she apologised as she lifted the covers off the trays.

  'Looks good to me,' Brett responded, relieving her of one tray.

  Maggie couldn't take her eyes off him as he took a hearty forkful of fat, juicy prawns, dripping in mayonnaise and put it in his mouth. He chewed slowly, as if savouring every bite, his eyes never leaving Maggie's. She felt as if she could be eating sawdust, her mouth and throat were so dry, her heart beating irregularly. Despite her frequent escapades, it had been a while since she had felt this much desire for a man.

  'How did you find out about the Black Orchid Club?' she broke the tense silence, wetting her lips with the cool, clear mineral water which had been sent up in a jug.

  'A mate of mine worked here before he came out to Australia.'

  'Australia?' That explained the deep suntan. 'What were you doing out there?'

  Brett shrugged.

  'This and that. Cattle herding, mostly.'

  A vivid picture of him astride a horse, yielding a lasso like an old-fashioned cowboy pushed its way into Maggie's head and she smiled. The image suited him.

  'What is it?'

  'Nothing. Just that you struck me as being the outdoor type.'

  'Really? And is that a good thing?'

  His voice was thick, like double cream. It trickled over her senses, affecting her concentration, drowning her in sensuality.

  They had finished eating. Brett seemed to be waiting for her to make a move, but, for once, she didn't know the best place to start. She felt sticky, unclean and she knew she wanted to come to this man fresh.

  'Look,' she began, 'I feel awfully hot and sweaty. I'd really like to take a bath – would you mind?'

  She hoped he wouldn't think she was rejecting him, would be happy to come back later. He smiled slowly at her.

  'Sure. Would you mind if I joined you?'

  Maggie's eyebrows flew up in surprise. She thought of the Jacuzzi. There'd be plenty of hot water and there was a lock on the inside of the door. It would be the perfect place to be alone. Her lips curved into a smile of delicious anticipation.

  'Be my guest,' she murmured huskily.

  12

  Maggie switched on the Jacuzzi and poured a thimbleful of her favourite, scented bubble-bath into the swirling water. The taciturn maintenance man would not be pleased with her when he had to drain the system, she thought wryly. Too bad!

  Taking out a large box of matches, she lit the scented candles which were held in glass fronted iron sconces screwed to the walls and extinguished the harsh electric light. She looked around her with satisfaction.

  The water in the Jacuzzi was frothing gently, large, iridescent bubbles rising up and disappearing with a soft 'pop' the minute they touched a hard surface. A subtle, musky scent filled the room, laying heavily on the still air. The candlelight flickered as the door to her bathroom opened and Brett stepped through.

  He had taken off his boots and the belt of his jeans and he stood, barefoot, looking round him. His expression was inscrutable and Maggie felt her heart quicken. She watched silently as he slowly unbuttoned the denim shirt and shrugged it off.
/>   His chest was broad, carpeted in a light covering of curly black hair which arrowed down the line of his belly and disappeared into his jeans. He held her eye as she stood across the pool from him and began to slip the buttons of his jeans through the stiff buttonholes. He was wearing plain black cotton boxer shorts underneath and he made no move to remove them, merely staring quietly back at her.

  The tension in the room was palpable as Maggie slowly slipped her robe off her shoulders and kicked it aside. Brett's eyes flickered briefly over her naked, candlelit body, before returning to her face. Maggie was aware that her nipples had grown hard, her legs weak as she anticipated the feel of his strong, hair-roughened arms around her, longed for the touch of his cool, firm lips on her skin.

  Very slowly, she walked to the edge of the Jacuzzi and sat down on the edge. He watched her as she slipped into the water with one graceful, fluid movement, closing her eyes for an instant as she sank up to her neck into the warm, bubbling water.

  When she opened them again, she saw that he had dispensed with his boxer shorts and was moving towards her. Proudly naked, his erect penis swayed invitingly as he plunged feet first into the pool, submerging his entire body under the water.

  Maggie giggled as she felt him brush against her ankle as he resurfaced, water streaming down his face, his black hair plastered against his skull. Without feeling the need to speak, they relaxed against the padded side of the pool, wet shoulders touching, both enjoying the sensation of the bubbles burbling around them.

  The illicit bubble-bath had caused the Jacuzzi to overflow, huge, frothy masses of white bubbles rising up into the air so that soon only their heads were above it. Maggie could feel the constantly moving water washing away the remains of her encounters with Con and Malcolm and Jason and Darren. She felt clean again, renewed.

  She jumped as Brett's wet hands slithered around her equally wet waist, lifting her up and towards him. His naked body pressed against hers, the wet skin slippery and soft. She could feel his hardness nudging at her outer thigh as he turned her and crushed her foam covered breasts against the hard, hairy wall of his chest.

  Maggie welcomed his kiss, tasting the warm, sweet water on his lips and tangling her fingers in the damp curls at the nape of his neck. His tongue probed against her teeth and she drew it in, liking the taste of him and eager for more.

  They were almost completely submerged now, mountainous walls of white foam climbing around them. The candlelight shone dully through the bubbles, enclosing them in a wet, frothy cocoon, a secret world inhabited only by their seeking, hungry bodies.

  Maggie allowed the water to buoy her up so that Brett's head was level with her hard-tipped breasts. She sucked in her breath as his lips touched first one, then the other, suckling gently until she felt the erotic pull deep inside her. His teeth grazed her nipples as he pulled away and lifted her, his large hands spanning her waist as he pressed his face against her navel, delving into it with his tongue.

  Looking down, Maggie could see the crisp, dark hair of her pubis, almost entirely obscured by the clinging foam, inches away from his busy tongue. She parted her legs slightly in invitation, imagining how the soft pink folds of her inner flesh, streaming with warm water from the Jacuzzi, would now peek out at him.

  She braced herself against the padded bar as he tilted her pelvis, one strong hand supporting her buttocks. With the fingers of his free hand, he gently parted the pouting lips of her vulva and spent a long moment gazing at the intricately formed flower within.

  Maggie felt her cheeks grow warm as his scrutiny continued, sighing in a mixture of relief and ecstasy as he gently entered her with two fingers. She sank down on them, grinding her hips against his, searching for his lips with her own.

  Brett hooked one of her legs around his waist and she brought the other up to join it, crossing her ankles behind his back. The foamy bubbles hissed and popped against her skin as she lay back in the water, her shoulders resting against the padded bar and welcomed Brett into her body.

  They made love slowly, almost lazily, indulging in long, hungry kisses. Maggie loved the feel of him moving inside her, filling her up, his strong arms supporting her in the water. As his tempo gradually increased, she closed her eyes, laying back her head in the water. She could feel her hair floating like a halo around her head. Her ears filled with water and the bubbles creeped up, over her face, splashing her nose and mouth.

  She sensed the moment that Brett reached the point of no return and she opened her eyes. He was staring straight at her, his mouth set in a grim line. Gathering together all his will power, he waited until the deep ripples of delight had begun to course through her body before allowing himself to join her. They both reached the peak together, clinging to each other as each was overcome and they sank, slowly, into the warm water.

  Maggie held her breath, holding tightly to Brett's reassuringly bulky shoulders as they resurfaced. He lifted her up, away from the foam and she felt the water course down her face and drip off the ends of her hair.

  'I think we'd better get out of here before we drown in this stuff!' he murmured against her ear.

  Maggie laughed.

  'OK, can you reach that switch?'

  He looked in the direction in which she was pointing and waded over to it. Immediately, the bubbles stopped and the foam which had been stirred up by the activity in the water began to pop and hiss.

  As they both climbed out of the pool, they were covered in foam. Laughing, Maggie handed Brett a large, white towel before rubbing herself down with an identical one.

  'Allow me.'

  Brett took the towel from her and began to pat her shoulders gently. He had wound his own towel around his waist. Maggie sighed as he began to blot the water running in rivulets between her breasts, obligingly shifting her weight so that he could press the soft towelling against her streaming sex.

  When he had finished, Brett wrapped the towel under her arms, sarong style, pulling her to him as he tucked it in. His kiss was warm, friendly, even and Maggie returned it in full measure. She felt pleasantly tired and leaned against him, grateful for his strength. 'Shall we go back to my office?' she whispered.

  He nodded and they meandered slowly through the foam-filled room to the relative normality of the office beyond.

  Brett was still very much on Maggie's mind when she went down for work that evening. After they had dressed he had stayed to drink tea and chat and she had found herself liking him more and more. When finally he had left, reluctantly it seemed to Maggie, she had gone back to the apartment to face Alexander.

  He had been furious with her for defying him by switching the privacy button on the two-way mirror. She didn't care. Although she had the uncomfortable feeling that she would be made to pay for her insubordination at some point, she was indifferent to his cold fury now.

  Tristan called her over as she checked out the gym.

  'Hilary wants to speak to you,' he told her. 'I said you'd find her in the bar.'

  Maggie nodded and went in search of Hilary. She was one of their regular clients, the kind that Maggie liked – discreet, but uninhibited. She spotted her as soon as she went into the bar. In her late forties, Hilary was slim and chic, her red-gold hair cut in a severe crop which on most women of her age would look cruel, yet on her it emphasised the fragile bone structure of her face.

  She smiled as Maggie joined her, her intelligent blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

  'Hello, Maggie,' she said, her light, musical voice easy on the ear. 'Drink?'

  'Thanks.'

  The barman poured her a dry martini and the two women chatted companionably about nothing in particular for a few minutes. Maggie was beginning to wonder why Hilary had asked to speak to her when the older woman casually mentioned her daughter.

  'I didn't know you had a daughter, Hilary,' she commented.

  'Emily is twenty-one. She's a lovely girl, a bit plump, perhaps, but I keep telling her she'll fine down as she gets older.'
/>   Hilary trailed off, chewing on her lower lip in a characteristic gesture that Maggie recognised. She had a feeling that this daughter had something to do with Hilary's seeking her out and she waited patiently for the other woman to continue. She seemed to be trying to make up her mind about something. At last, she turned to Maggie and laid an exquisitely manicured hand lightly on her arm.

  'I hope you don't think this is out of order, but . . . I was wondering if I could book a man for Emily on my membership card?'

  Maggie opened her mouth in surprise, but Hilary did not let her reply.

  'I know it sounds like an odd request, but you see, I'm so worried about her! She's so shy and unsure of herself. I know she would like to have a full social life, but she had an unfortunate experience some years ago and . . . well, I think she's frightened.'

  'That's only natural, though, surely? When she meets the right man—'

  'But that's just it, Maggie,' Hilary interrupted with some agitation, 'Emily won't let any man close enough to her to find out if he's remotely the right one! I thought that a professional man . . . someone who knows the situation. The first time is so important and I want it to be right for Emily.'

  After the initial shock, Maggie began to see more and more sense in Hilary's words. If Emily had been put off sex at an impressionable age then it was important that her first time was perfect.

  'Fathers have been introducing their adolescent sons to prostitutes for years,' Hilary said, a trifle desperately, 'and as this is such a progressive sort of club . . .'

  'Have you spoken to Emily about it?' Maggie asked as Hilary trailed off again.

  'Sort of.'

  'And?'

  'And she didn't completely veto the idea. What do you think, Maggie? Could you arrange something?'

  Maggie immediately thought of Brett. His patient, tender strength would be ideal in a situation such as this and he would be moving into the club at the weekend. He was perceptive enough to know how to handle a woman like Emily. She smiled at Hilary.