Beautiful Creatures

by Lulu Taylor

  She pulled away, unbuttoned her coat and opened it, revealing that she was wearing only underwear: a black bra, suspender belt and stockings, and knickers of black, wispy lace that showed her pale blonde bush beneath. ‘I want to make love to you, Otto,’ she said in a low voice.

  He stared at her, obviously affected by the sight of her. His breathing quickened. ‘Oh my God,’ he said. ‘Flora …’ He moved in to kiss her again, wrapping his arms around her and holding her head with one hand, the other stroking her back. He moaned gently as he touched her bra strap and the band of her suspender belt.

  ‘Will you take me to bed, Otto?’ she murmured against his mouth, and then he led her through the apartment and into his bedroom. They lay down on the bed together and began to kiss again. Flora wondered if she was supposed to do something or whether she should wait for him. I’ll make the first move … after all, I’m being passionate and bold tonight. She reached her hand down to the waistband of his trousers and began to fumble with the clasp. Men liked to be touched, she knew that, so surely Otto would like her to …

  She felt his fingers around her wrist, gently pulling her hand away from his trousers. He kissed her face delicately, speaking softly between each kiss. ‘My darling, I want us to move very slowly.’

  ‘Of course,’ she whispered, ‘there’s no hurry, is there?’

  ‘No …’ He smiled down at her. ‘No hurry.’

  ‘Then … we’re not finished?’ She rubbed a hand over his chest. ‘Can the pride of the von Schwettens put up with me?’

  He laughed. ‘I’ve never seen this side of you, Flora! Do you know …’ he turned to her, his eyes warm, his lips smiling, ‘… I like it. Very much.’

  She rubbed up against him, her soft breasts pressed to his shirt, the nylon of her stockings scratching against his trousers. He put his hand down to her panties and rubbed his fingers across the lace, pressing down where her clitoris was and sending a tickling sensation rippling out from her groin. He slipped his fingers inside and rubbed lightly at her thatch, then stroked her outer lips, which she could tell were full and swollen with excitement.

  ‘Has anyone ever had you before, darling?’ he whispered in her ear.

  ‘No,’ her reply was barely audible.

  He seemed to like this, and pressed his fingers harder against her pussy, rolling one of them around her entrance, pushing the tip in just a tiny way and then taking it out. His breathing was hard and fast now. He moved his fingertip, slippery with the moisture of her pussy, up to her clitoris and began to massage it with soft, circular movements, delicate at first but increasing in pressure as she responded.

  She was startled by the pleasure she began to feel from the insistent pressure of his fingertip on her bud. She was powerless to resist and couldn’t stop herself moving in rhythm to his circling finger. The feeling grew in intensity until she couldn’t think of anything else but the deliciousness of it. Then her back stiffened and she clutched at Otto, panting out with the rush of pleasure that gripped her.

  ‘Oh …’ she sighed, smiling as she opened her eyes. ‘Oh …’ Everything she wanted to say seemed to be expressed by that one word. He put his arm around her and kissed her.

  ‘You do not mind if I wait?’ he asked tenderly.

  ‘No, of course not! So … are we back together …?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, laughing. ‘How can I resist you? Yes, then, we are back together – but on one condition.’

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked, a tiny flutter of fear in her chest.

  ‘We get married as soon as possible.’ He ran a hand over her hair. ‘Now I have had you like this, I do not think I can be without you for long.’

  She wrapped her arms round him tightly. ‘It’s what I want too.’

  You were right, Vicky, she thought. I went out, and I got it. I made it happen. It’s the right thing, I just know it.

  38

  The block of flats was as unpleasant as Octavia remembered, and this time she had to climb the stairs alone as the others were already in the top-floor flat. She’d been summoned that morning by an urgent text from Iseult and had left before Flora was up.

  As she reached the landing, she came face to face with the occupant of the flat opposite Roddy’s. He was a mean-faced man in a tracksuit, baseball cap and trainers, and stared at her furtively, standing close to his front door, which he had obviously just closed. There was a fetid stench in the air that seemed to come from within his flat.

  ‘Hello,’ Octavia said uncertainly.

  He grunted at her, shrugged and muttered something that sounded like ‘fuckin’ faggot’, looking in the direction of Roddy’s door.

  Charming, Octavia thought. Why doesn’t Roddy move? This place is grim.

  Her knock was answered by Jasmine who said with a grin, ‘Radcliffe’s really fucked up this time.’

  Inside, there was a council of war going on, with everyone sitting around Roddy’s vast cutting table that had been cleared of its usual debris for once. Iseult was smoking furiously and looking very military in a utility shirt dress, given a little sparkle by a huge diamond brooch pinned to the breast. She sported a tiny pill-box hat on one side of her red bob, and chunky platform Mary Janes on her feet.

  ‘Hiya,’ Roddy said with a smile, pushing a bottle of wine towards Octavia. ‘Have a drink, sweetie.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, wide-eyed. The tone of the group was usually upbeat, if tinged with bitchiness at times because of the constant point-scoming and teasing. But Iseult looked really, properly angry today.

  ‘Octavia!’ she pronounced. ‘You were right all along. Amanda Radcliffe is rotten to her bloody core.’

  Octavia sat down and poured a glassful of Chablis. ‘I’ve said so all along. What’s she done now?’

  ‘She has rejected Roddy!’ declaimed Iseult. ‘Can you imagine? Her shitty little shop thinks it’s too good for his designs. I went to her with a brilliant idea – we would create a boutique within Noble’s devoted exclusively to Roddy. He would also theme the whole shop along his own lines using Noble’s furniture and fabrics. Together we would create a wonderful fashion news item, bringing life-giving publicity to all of us. It was beautiful – Noble’s is exactly the right space, especially for the last collection.’

  ‘Won’t one of the other big stores give Roddy a boutique? After all, he’s such a success since the fashion show …’ ventured Octavia. She took a sip of the crisp, dry white wine.

  Iseult looked disgruntled. She took a long drag on her cigarette and as she breathed out a cloud of smoke, said, ‘Of course someone would. But it wouldn’t be news – not really. What’s so new about Harvey Nicks or Selfridges stocking a designer? They already have the best brands in the world, it’s so hard to stand out there. But at Noble’s, Roddy could be news. There’s no one else to outshine him. And the space is so wonderfully unique. But …’ She looked sour. ‘Radcliffe was having none of it.’

  ‘She’s got a grudge against us,’ piped up Jasmine. ‘That’s why.’

  ‘I had to crawl on my belly to her,’ snarled Iseult.

  ‘She did, I was there,’ Roddy said with a smile. He seemed more amused than anything else, as though he was enjoying seeing Iseult in full tigress mode.

  ‘She let me go through the whole spiel. She listened to all of it. I flattered, I fawned, I grovelled. I told her how marvellous she is, how much I love her fucking miserable shop is, what we could do for each other. And after all that, she simply said no. How lovely but no. And that was that. We had to leave with our tails between our legs.’ Iseult’s eyes flashed at the memory. ‘So humiliating.’

  ‘But she’s crazy,’ Octavia said, puzzled by Amanda’s behaviour. ‘It’s a brilliant idea, anyone can see that.’

  ‘Hmm. It is, isn’t it?’ Iseult looked a little mollified. ‘But we haven’t an earthly …’

  ‘Unless …’ Jasmine leant forward and stared at Octavia. ‘Unless you�
��re serious about buying Noble’s.’

  Iseult was instantly attentive. ‘What’s that?’

  Octavia laughed almost nervously. ‘Oh, it was a bit of a joke. Jaz suggested that I should buy Noble’s after Amanda threw me off the premises.’

  ‘Threw you out? You see!’ Iseult looked even more indignant. ‘She’s a menace!’

  ‘But buying the place and throwing her out is perhaps a bit of an extreme reaction.’ Octavia took another sip of her wine.

  ‘I don’t think so at all,’ said Iseult, her tone cool as she tapped her ash into a marble ashtray.

  ‘It’s kind of classy,’ Roddy said admiringly.

  Jasmine fixed Octavia with a stare. ‘My brother said he’d introduced you to his friend. Apparently it’s quite interesting as a business idea – Giles says Noble’s is ripe for a takeover and fresh investment.’

  Iseult was excited. She looked about, the little pillbox hat bobbing on her head. ‘What fun! Our own shop. Think what we could do with Noble’s, how we could reinvent it. We could showcase Roddy, but we could also make it a wonderful haven for British design – and new talent from all over the world. It has so much potential!’

  ‘I suppose it does,’ Octavia said, trying to sound casual. The meeting with Ethan Brody had, if she was honest, passed in a cloud of lust. She hadn’t really seriously entertained the idea that she might buy Noble’s, it had just seemed like a fun idea, and then she’d hardly heard a word he’d said, she’d been so enraptured by the sight of his broad shoulders and hazel-flecked eyes. She’d been stupidly disappointed when he’d looked at his watch and said that he had to go. Was it her imagination or had he seemed a little regretful? They’d left it that he would be in touch when he’d done some more research into Noble’s.

  ‘Call this man at once!’ cried Iseult. She was very animated, her eyes bright and her cheeks lightly flushed. ‘This is perfect, Octavia! A wonderful use for your frankly immorally huge resources.’

  Roddy fixed her with a gimlet gaze. He was wearing a stunning tartan shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons sewn all over it. ‘Are you serious about this, Octavia? Or is it just little rich girl talk – you want to take Amanda’s toys out of her pram?’

  All eyes were fixed on Octavia while they waited for her answer. She was disconcerted. It had been a throwaway idea and yet it was gathering a momentum she simply hadn’t expected. Everyone was taking it seriously … very seriously from the looks of things.

  Do I really want to buy a shop? What on earth would I do with it when I had it? Octavia stared down at the table and traced a groove, probably made by a pair of Roddy’s cutting shears, with the tip of her finger. And yet … Iseult’s ideas really do sound exciting. And there’s nothing in the world I love more than shopping. What better than to have my own place to play in? And then there was the simple question of what she was going to do with her life. Could she really spend the next sixty years buying things? Was that all she was ever going to do?

  She’d vaguely imagined how she would spend her time once the initial excitement of her new life was over: she had thought of charity work – though what exactly she didn’t know – or perhaps investing in things that interested her: films, shows, art – those nice, glamorous activities that involved plenty of parties …

  So what could be better than taking on one of the most famous shops in the world and breathing new life into it? She smiled as another thought crossed her mind. And I can’t pretend it wouldn’t feel very nice indeed to rub Amanda’s nose in it. Exquisite, in fact …

  Octavia looked up. ‘You know what? I’m very serious. I’ll call Ethan today. I’ll need you all to help me. But why the hell shouldn’t we take it on, and make a success of it?’

  Jasmine clapped her hands with glee, while Iseult cheered and called for wine. Roddy stared at Octavia, his grey eyes inscrutable, a small smile playing about his lips.

  And now I’ve got the perfect excuse to spend a great deal more time with Ethan Brody, she thought, and a ripple of pleasurable lust ran through her.

  39

  The bus journey had not been as terrifying as Flora had feared, though it had still been stressful. She was so ignorant of the city, and found the sheer number of people everywhere daunting. But the bus had been preferable to the underground, which she was still too frightened to venture into. She could have asked Steve to bring her, she trusted in his discretion, but something had made her want to keep this visit completely secret. She had not even told Otto, even though they were now engaged. She wanted to confide in him, but not yet.

  Perhaps it was crazy, but she was acting on complete impulse. The thought of doing this had crossed her mind before, but it was only after her relationship with Otto was re-established that she had decided to do it. Now. At once. What did Vicky say? I’ve got to make things happen. She was right. I’ve won Otto back. Now I’m going to start finding out what I need to know.

  She walked along the Soho backstreet. Heavily made-up girls stood in front of doorways with glittering curtains obscuring the interior, and there were seedy-looking bookshops, underwear and rubber goods shops, and others displaying blacked-out windows and printed warnings that only adults should pass beyond the entrance.

  ‘How much, love?’ a man called to her, and laughed as she walked past. Flora ignored him but she felt painfully self-conscious in her Chloé wide-legged wool trousers, long camel overcoat and Tod’s loafers. She looked as though she should be strolling down New Bond Street, not walking past prostitutes and sex shops in a red light district.

  God, I hope I’m doing the right thing. The address had meant nothing to her when she had found it on the internet. If she’d known what kind of area this was, she doubted she would ever have considered keeping this appointment.

  At last she found the address she was looking for. To her relief, it was at the more salubrious end of the street, between an inoffensive-looking movie memorabilia shop and a colourful Italian deli. Flora looked for the name: there it was. A small label next to the buzzer read Falcon. She pressed it, and a moment later there was an answering buzz and a click as the door lock released.

  She pushed it open. Inside a narrow hallway, a steep flight of stairs led upwards. Flora climbed them, trying to suppress the fear that lay just below the surface. Keeping calm was an effort, but she knew she had to. If she started to panic, God alone knew what would happen …

  I’ve got to get control, she told herself sternly as she neared the top. Just like Vicky said. After all, I’m going to be a married woman soon. I’m an adult now. I can’t be like a frightened child all my life.

  Not that she was frightened by the idea of the wedding. Otto had been adamant that he wanted a small, quiet occasion, with only immediate family there. No fuss, no frills, nothing to draw attention to them. They had even decided against a formal announcement of the engagement, fearing it would only bring unwelcome press attention and more delving into the twins’ lives and pasts. Otto had been very sympathetic when Flora had told him what had recently happened. ‘Then we will make sure these vultures have nothing else to get their nasty beaks into!’ he had declared. ‘Why should our private affairs be made public? We will keep ourselves to ourselves.’ She’d been grateful for his understanding. But she hadn’t even told Otto about what she was doing now.

  The door at the top of the stairs had a modest brass plate screwed to it, also reading Falcon in engraved letters. Flora knocked on the door. A moment later it opened to reveal a man with a slightly anxious expression. ‘Yeah?’ he said. His accent was American and he was wearing a shabby dark suit with a black jumper underneath it. His eyes were dark and his thick black hair rather messy. His face, though tired and shadowed with stubble around chin and jaw, was startlingly handsome, with a strong straight nose and full sensual lips.

  ‘F-F-Flora,’ she stuttered, ‘B-Beaufort …’

  ‘Huh?’ He frowned.

  ‘I h-h-have an ap … an ap …’

  ‘Appointment?’ he su
ggested. Then his face cleared. ‘Oh, yeah. Lily said. I thought you might be the guy come about the air conditioning. It’s kaput again. The goddamn thing eats money. Three times I’ve had it fixed, this summer alone. Come in. Come in.’

  She followed him into a shabby office lined with filing cabinets. There was a Formica wood-effect desk with a computer on it and a telephone. He consulted a book lying open on the desk. ‘Oh, yeah, here you are. Please, come into my room.’

  He went to another door, opened it and showed her into an even shabbier, messier room, with yet more filing cabinets and a much bigger desk, though still cheaply veneered. A grubby window with a vent in an upper pane looked down on to the street below. He went behind the desk and sat down, gesturing to Flora to take the chair in front of it. He spent a few minutes looking at his computer screen and moving the mouse, then sat back, stared at her and said, ‘So. How can I help?’

  ‘You’re Nick Falcon, aren’t you?’ she said shyly.

  He laughed. ‘Yeah, I forgot my side of the introductions.’ He stood up and held out his hand. ‘Nick Falcon at your service. How do you do? Would you like coffee or something? Lily will be back in a moment with milk and cookies.’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Flora smiled back. She couldn’t help warming to him, even though she’d only known him a few moments. Perhaps it was his easy American style but she could feel her nerves melting away and she relaxed. ‘I think I spoke to Lily on the telephone? I told her a little about what I want.’

  ‘Oh, yeah. She left me a note here.’ He picked up a scrap of a paper and looked at it, his dark eyes scanning the handwriting. ‘Okay, so it’s a missing person, is it? It says you’re searching for your mother.’ He looked up at her, fixing her with a steady gaze. ‘So you were adopted or something? Want to find out who your birth mother is?’