London Lace, Series Complete Set

by Catou Martine

  This had given Eliza time to bathe again, dress, and enjoy a refreshing walk through the city. It was a mild day for mid-March; spring was definitely in the air, and it was warm enough to get away with only knee-high socks instead of tights.

  Her cream, cable-knit socks reached just above the chocolate brown leather boots sheathing her calves, so her skin just above her knees was visible up to the line of her camel-colored, brushed cotton pencil skirt. A cream tunic sweater, fitted, fell just past her hips. A strip of it hung below the hem of her belted Burberry coat. And she wore a hat, of course. An homage to the classic Fedora—popular once again with both men and women—but this one smaller, more feminine, with a fine soft Tweed pattern (an homage to Todd) and a tiny owl feather tucked in its brown band.

  Eliza welcomed the walk from Piccadilly to St. Paul’s, it gave her time to clear her head and to stop by Kenzi’s salon.

  “Any chance you could squeeze me in?” said Eliza pushing through the front door and into a sea of white orchids—Kenzi’s signature touch.

  “Eliza!” said Kenzi coming out from behind the counter where she had been typing madly. Her dark almond-shaped eyes sparkled and her artistically lined lips curved into a wide smile. “It’s been ages, honey!”

  “Self-maintenance is not all it’s cracked up to be,” said Eliza as she was swept up into a hug by this petite friend who was so much stronger than her stature suggested.

  “What do you need?” said Kenzi stepping back and looking seriously into Eliza’s face. In a flash she seemed to scrutinize her eyebrows, eyelashes, upper lip, and hair roots, none of which Eliza had to deal with cosmetically, yet, but Kenzi was always on the lookout. It was her job. Her art, she called it.

  “I wish you’d let me work on your brows. I could get you looking like Garbo.”

  Eliza shook her head. “Too thin. Too dramatic. Actually, I need the help a little lower.”

  Kenzi raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow then quickly glanced over her shoulder. “The girls are busy. I’ll do you myself. We have one room open and everything’s warmed up and ready to go.”

  “Thank you,” said Eliza slipping out of her coat. Kenzi led her toward the back of the salon.

  A few minutes later Eliza was spread out on a table in a cozy rose-colored room being pubic-ly examined by Kenzi.

  “What can I do for you, honey? Just the edges, landing strip, traditional triangle?”

  Eliza thought for a moment. “Take it all off,” she said.

  Kenzi looked up and smiled. “Okay. Who is he?”

  “How did you know?”

  “A handful of women do the full monty just for themselves. More than that try it out once to see what it feels like, for the rest it’s like a new sex toy—and after primary school we’re quite ready to share our toys.” She winked.

  As Kenzi stirred the wax and told Eliza which position to take first, Eliza told her a little about Todd. She really had nothing left to hide from Kenzi.

  “So this is very new. Are you sure you want to bare all just now?”

  “It’s more of a whim. I want to surprise him the way he’s surprising me. Plus it kind of feels good.” Until it starts to grow back, she thought. Ah well, that would be then, this was now. “I also have a feeling things are going to move fast with him.”

  “From the sounds of it, I agree,” said Kenzi.

  The next several minutes, Eliza focused on controlling her pain.

  After Kenzi left her to dress, Eliza slid her panties and skirt back on. A tiny bit of wax hadn’t been fully removed and was now stuck to the lace trim of her thong. Under her skirt it tugged just enough to be an uncomfortable distraction. She borrowed another one of Kenzi’s wipes, dusted herself lightly with Tea Tree powder and tucked her panties in her purse.

  Eliza left the room and paid by credit card.

  “Thanks for fitting me in, Kenzi.”

  “My pleasure, honey. It’s always my pleasure to pave the way for more pleasure.” She winked. “Let me know if this lucky fellow appreciates my work. And don’t be such a stranger.”

  “I may have more reason not to be. And maybe next time I’ll let you near my eyebrows.”

  “You are such a tease, hon.” Kenzi waved her off. “Go have fun. I’ve got more pleasure work to do.”

  Hairless and panty-less under her skirt, Eliza walked down the London streets with a secret smile on her lips. Passers-by may have been looking at the hat on her head, but what might they have thought if they knew about her new ‘look’ under her skirt? More importantly, what might Sir Todd think? She wondered if— or rather when—she’d have the opportunity to garner his opinion…

  It really was a beautiful day—a mackerel sky, the trees tipped with tight buds, an unexpected balminess in the air promising spring was just around the corner. As Eliza joined the flow of pedestrians crossing Millennium Bridge, she thanked her lucky stars once again for getting her out of the working town of Sheffield and into the fashion flow of London. Her application to the London College of Fashion had been a long shot and if Stella hadn’t goaded her into filling out the paperwork, as a dare, and helped her put together a portfolio, Eliza might not have ever left her punk-pathetic charcoal-eye-lined past behind her. Eliza silently thanked Stella, too.

  Stopping in the middle of the bridge—she and Todd had agreed to meet ‘halfway’—Eliza gazed down into the brown swirls of the Thames. She parted her legs slightly. There were only a few boats on the water at the moment, and none close to crossing beneath the bridge, but she imagined one coming along, the captain glancing up at the pretty blue sky rippled with white clouds, seeing the steel curves of the bridge rising into view, people in suits striding purposefully back and forth, tourists wandering gape-mouthed staring at the sights, and a pretty woman, in boots and a skirt, looking meditatively down at the river; a real beauty in a feathered hat, her knees bare and the sun bouncing of the water and up the smooth skin of her legs, all the way up to….

  Something pressed against Eliza’s backside. Not something, someone. She took deep breath, relaxed into this mysterious embrace. Eliza opened her legs a little more, as much as she was able to with her hips pinned between this someone and the bridge railing.

  A growling whisper found her ear. “What are you doing?”

  “Just getting comfortable,” she whispered back. Her tiny shifts were causing a small, or rather big, reaction directly behind her.

  “Do you know how sexy you look leaning against this railing? I’ve had a chubber growing half way across this bridge.” He was kissing the nape of her neck.

  “Mmmm…..” He smelled good, too. And then, feeling cheeky, she asked, “This is Todd, isn’t it?” He stopped kissing, stopped pressing into her, for just a second, as he registered her doubt. Until he registered it was false doubt.

  Catching on, he said, “Were you expecting someone else?”

  She leaned into his continuing kisses without turning around.

  “Everything these days has just been so unexpected…”

  She arched her back slightly, trying to wedge his growing erection between her buttocks through the thin fabric of her skirt. He wasn’t wearing jeans anymore. Whatever trousers he had on were softer, and she could feel his contours straining toward her. She imagined the sheath of silk right next to his skin. Her own skin felt silky smooth, and refreshed, as a river gust blew up her skirt and cooled the heat building there. She was already wet and slippery. She would have to be careful since her panties were out of service. She tried to remember if she’d tossed a package of tissues in her purse. She hoped so. She would need them before the day was out. She would need them in the next five minutes if she didn’t put a stop to this.

  He seemed to have the same idea.

  “You’ll have to stop your wiggling, Miss Keating, or I’ll have to take you right here on this bridge in front of all of these people.”

  The mere thought—the threat—caused her to flush all over. She turned around quickly, star
ed up into his blue eyes, darkly sexy with arousal.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Did I scare you?”

  “No,” she insisted. It was ludicrous to think he’d meant it, but for some reason anything he said had her on high alert. He pressed against her belly now, sliding his arms around her waist.

  “I could lift you up on the edge of this railing, unzip and slide up under your skirt.” He grabbed her left outer thigh as if he meant to wrap it around his waist, but he didn’t lift her leg. He just leaned in close to her cheekbone, so his lips were close to her ear. “I could force myself into you, take my pleasure, as you balance precariously over the Thames, your life in my hands, your body balanced on the tip of my –”

  “– I dare you,” Eliza whispered huskily. This boy liked to play with fire.

  He pulled back to face her, their hips still joined. His blue eyes locked on her brown ones. “Bloody hell, what am I going to do with you?” He looked perplexed, and hungry, torn between his desire to act out his fantasy, and her challenge, and the awareness that he was on a crowded pedestrian bridge in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world.

  “What are you going to do with me?” Eliza echoed. “That’s what I’d like to find out,” she added with a teasing drawl.

  He bent down over her lips, picked them up with his own, and drove his tongue into her mouth. With one hand on the back of her head, he held her mouth tight to his, driving his tongue in and out and all around the inside of her mouth. When he came up for a breath, her knees were weak, and her hips, and all that lay between them, felt like molten jelly.

  “If I could get away with doing that to your other lips without getting carried off in a paddy wagon I would, Miss Keating. But an arrest would spoil our afternoon.”

  Eliza mustered the sass to at least pout. A corner of Todd’s beautiful mouth turned down at the gesture of her disappointment.

  “Well, then,” he said, reaching for his zipper. “We aim to please.”

  Eliza gaped, all pretense of sass and teasing gone on the last breezy gust from the Thames. She looked back and forth along the bridge. “Todd! You can’t. Stop!”

  He threw his head back again and laughed even louder. “The look on your face. Priceless.”

  She hit him on the shoulder as he made sure his zipper was back in its top position. “We really ought not to get carried away here. Besides, your panties would get in the way.”

  She bit her lip at the mention of her panties. If only he knew…

  “Come,” he said, pulling her by the hand. “The car’s waiting.” He buttoned his jacket over his bulge, or most of it. He didn’t seem shy about the part still sort of visible, if you were looking right at it, which Eliza was, until he pulled her into a brisker pace. And if anyone did notice, Eliza was damn proud to have been the inspiration of that.

  A DAY AT THE RACES

  About an hour later, they pulled up in front of the Sandown Racetrack in Esher. They had been civilized in the car, holding hands and kissing, sitting close together and talking. Eliza had been grateful for the cool leather seats. Todd’s fingers explored her upper thighs and the slight V-dip in her skirt, but he kept his fingers on top of the fabric.

  The driver, Albert, worked for the Montgomery family, and Todd explained a bit about the various businesses the family owned and how they wanted him to consider a management post in London. That’s why he had been summoned to the city. Apparently they wanted to sell the country manor Todd’s father leased, which had reverted back to the family estate when he had died two years before. Todd had inherited a house in Oxford titled to his father but it was the country manor that had the stables and grazing meadows that allowed Todd to raise the horses he loved so much.

  He said, “I’m happier in the country around animals. I don’t want to get stuck in the rat race of the city.”

  “We’re not all rats, you know.”

  Eliza had worked damned hard to make it in the city and had no intention of going back to her industrial roots in Sheffield. Even if finding herself at a racetrack conjured up memories of home. Not her own memories, but memories of stories her mother told about her scoundrel of a father. Despite her chosen profession, Eliza had never been to a racetrack. Even if at least half her clients came in for hats and headdresses for the innumerable society events held at race tracks throughout the UK, Eliza's design ability had never been negatively impacted by her lack of experience at the track, where, according to her mother, most of her family’s hopes for the future had been lost.

  Eliza didn’t even remember her father. Her mother had kicked him out when she was three, saying she had to cut her losses before she lost her mind. She raised Eliza on a cashier’s wages and sub-standard childcare. Eliza learned from her mother that a girl had to make it on her own and never rely on a man. And now Eliza had gone and fallen for a man who loved the races. No, she corrected herself, she hadn’t ‘fallen’ for anyone or anything. This was a casual affair. A pleasurable distraction. Todd was a wild ride she planned to enjoy to the fullest, without expectations.

  As they stepped inside the busy hall, Eliza looked up at the huge signs listing the races and the horse and jockey names.

  Todd looked up at the lists, smiled, and pointed. “There he is.”

  “Who?”

  “Dante’s Fire. Foaled him myself.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He was sired by Merlin’s Magic and my dam, Sheba. I brought that little power house into the word.” He chuckled, and for a moment he looked like a proud daddy.

  This was a whole other side to Todd. Not that she knew his others, but this was one side his family didn’t seem to appreciate.

  “Do you want to place a bet?” said Todd.

  “Um. No thank you. You go ahead though.”

  He looked at her a moment. “Oh. I’m not a gambler. I just like to see the horses run.” He took her hand. “That’s what I want to show you.” He pulled her toward the nearest viewing platform.

  The oval spread out wide and green before them, the sky a marbled blue backdrop, the track a smooth brown loop edged with white fencing.

  Surrounded by the buzz of conversation and cheering, she heard the rumble of galloping hooves in the distance and an announcer calling out names and positions. It was just a normal day at the races but it felt like a special occasion compared to her regular life. What must it be like on the biggest race days, or the Ladies’ Days? Those fashion parades kept Eliza’s shop humming and her creativity always on its edge. She couldn’t help noticing the pillboxes, brims, and fascinators coloring the stands.

  Todd’s eyes were on the track, of course. He dragged her closer to the railing.

  He pointed. “That’s him!”

  “Which one?” They were four-legged blurs of black and brown, with the jockeys on their backs a rainbow of colors.

  “He’s in third place. Oh, wait. He’s dropped to fourth, but he’s coming up again to third.” Todd pumped his fist. “He might even place second!” Todd was beaming. “One more lap to go. He could do it. I’ll be damned. Come on.”

  He headed down some steps to a lower level a little closer to the track. Betters were waving little papers and shouting as the horse rounded into the last lap. The announcer grew even livelier and spoke more rapidly. Eliza vibrated with all the excitement around her. She held on to Todd’s hand as a kind of anchor.

  They pushed forward to the lower railing. Todd slipped his hand around her shoulder and drew her close. Though he was still completely focused on the horses rounding the bend and driving to the finish line, his arm had slipped so automatically around her, so protectively and possessively. She fit perfectly under his arm; she felt as if she belonged there.

  The horses barreled to the finish line to a cacophony of cheers and clapping. Dante’s Fire took second place. Todd was thrilled.

  The jockeys rode the horses for a cool down before passing quite close to where Eliza w
as standing. She could see the lather around the horses’ bits, the slick sheen on their haunches, their muddied hooves and shanks.

  Clusters of people were now moving and gathering into social pockets to chat and compare race highlights before the next race started. Todd waved at a few people nearby. One fellow walked over and shook his hand.

  “Haven’t see you around lately, mate.”

  “Andrew, good to see you again,” said Todd. “Been down in the country doing the real work. The kind that makes this stuff possible.”

  “One of yours here today?”

  “Came in second in that race, I’m proud to say. Dante’s Fire.”

  “Ah, he’s your baby? Or was?”

  “Right. Belongs to Harvey Selfridge now.”

  “Well, I’ll keep an eye on him,” said Adrew. His gaze flicked to Eliza.

  Todd caught the look. “Where are my manners? Andrew Wakefield, Eliza Keating.”

  “Pleasure,” said Eliza offering her hand and smiling.

  Andrew took it. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

  A well-dressed couple approached their small group. The woman wore a peacock-feather-festooned fascinator clipped to her stiffly-coiffed do. Much smaller than a hat, and needing a clip to secure it to the wearer's head, fascinators could be dramatic and eye-catching, like this one, or elegant and subdued for less festive but still formal events. Eliza had created many of both types. This woman leaned toward the dramtic. The fellow she was with wore a dark brown suit with a turquoise silk tie, which matched the iridescent glow of the peacock feather’s eye but also reminded Eliza of her silk robe at home and the fun she’d had in it last night. She shifted from one foot to the other as a warm surge pulsed between her legs, but her own skin rubbing against itself did nothing to cool the flare. She tucked herself more tightly under Todd’s arm.