by Olivia Fox
“That’s the three of them together at some fancy do in Spain last year - thank you Google image. See, there’s my boy Grayson.”
Lily barely noticed Grayson. She was staring at the inhumanely beautiful woman on Seb Harper’s arm. Without moving a muscle, olive-skinned vixen Baronesa Ana Pacheva was grinding Lily’s short-lived fantasies into dust. Damn it. She felt so stupid. Of course Seb Harper hadn’t been flirting with her. Why would he? She would never come close to this woman’s league.
“So the question remains,” interjected Cayley. “Why did Seb ask Bateman to bring you into the prep squad? Curious. Maybe he likes you…”
“OK, and when exactly did we turn back into teenagers?” Lily’s sense of humour was waning.
Cayley seemed not to notice her friend’s unease. “Anyway, he wants to see you again, we know that much,” she insisted. Then, grabbing her purse, she announced, “Lunch calls!” before strutting catwalk-style, out of the office.
Lily reminded herself this year was all about experimenting. No point fixating on some arrogant, attention seeking, married man. So he wanted to see her again. Big deal. Pull yourself together Lily. Sodding well pull yourself together, she told herself, as her resolve broke into a million pieces.
4
Jan, Sat 15th
Good morning, Diary! Remember me - the one who promised to write in you day in/ day out? Well all I can tell you is that I’m doing my best - I really am - my feet have barely hit the ground all damn week. Just woke up in a sweat, having accidentally left central heating on all night (good thing I’ve got this job as heating bill used to be Tom’s domain). Anyhow, that wasn’t the only thing getting me hot under the bedsheets. I just had a slightly X-rated Seb Harper dream. I won’t go into detail as it’s way too depressing that, so far, the only sex I have to write about is dream-sex, but WHEW! What a dream! Oh sod it; a few details can’t do any harm. So, I was back in the hotel room, the one Cayley and I escorted Martha Cane to the other night, except there was no Martha Cane, and no Cayley. And apparently I'd fallen asleep there because suddenly I was aware of Lord Seb being in the room, standing at the foot of the bed, while I lay there buck naked except for a thin cotton sheet. He looked at me with those sexy come-to-bed eyes (I was already in bed, but we'll forgive dream-Seb for his enthusiasm) and before I knew it he was loosening his collar, and climbing under the sheet with me. He started kissing my feet. I'm not big into toe sucking or foot fetishism or anything, but the way his teeth grazed at my instep was truly a-frickin-mazing. I watched him work his way up my body under the sheet, kissing my heels, legs, thighs (you get the picture) until he finally reached my *ahem* ‘down belows’ (God, I sound just like my Gran), then he kissed me there too, and it was like his tongue was on fire; totally hot and wild, and going hell for leather. Then, all of a sudden, he stopped. He climbed further up the bed until he was totally on top of me, and somehow he’d lost all his clothes under the sheets, because he was 100% naked and his cock was pressing against the aching bud of my clit. And for some reason I was worried he might not know it was - well - where it was, because he looked totally casual and unfazed. He lent down so his lips were really close to my ear, and whispered ‘haven’t you forgotten something?’ And right as he said it, he buried his cock right up inside me; which would have been sweet, unadulterated lusciousness, had I not then suddenly remembered that Martha Cane was still waiting for me in the toilets downstairs, probably lying in a pool of her own vomit. That’s when I woke up.
Anyhow, what else can I tell you? Not a lot! My period just started, augmenting the whole ‘Lily’s not getting any action’ theme of this oh-so-riveting diary entry. Oh, and I’ve been spending the last few days working through Cayley’s mammoth list of party goods (at least someone’s going to be having some fun - even if that someone’s not me). For the record, here are a just few of the items I’ve purchased this week:
Condoms- assorted sizes, colours, textures x 4000 (4000 condoms / 80 guests / 5 nights = 10 fucks a day!)
Vats of lube x 4
Tubes of lube (for the guest rooms) x 80
Butt plugs x 20
Vibrators and dildos x 200 (The client asked for a wide and varied selection! On Cayley’s advice, I deferred to the stockist’s best judgment on this one - seriously didn’t have time to get to know the ins and outs (pardon the pun) of each product)
Sex tape x 60 rolls
Various chains, pulleys, harnesses
Nipple clamps (Yeeeouch!)
Penis sleeves (Why??)
Sex slings
Whips
Paddles
Feathers
…Shall I go on? Nope - it’s definitely time for a coffee.
Yours Improperly,
Lily Wilde
5
After two mornings luxuriating in bed, dragging herself to work on Monday sucked. But at least Lily didn’t have to be in until 10am. She took a long, shower and tried not to dwell on Lord Too-Beautiful-For-Words-Harper. Her wet hair fell to her waist in cascading ringlets, and she took her time with it, trying to bring some semblance of control. She wanted to look her best. Not for him - or so she told herself - but to give her self-confidence a much needed lift. And by the time she left her front door, she had to admit she both looked and felt pretty damned good. That lasted all of two hours.
While she busied herself with files, phone-calls and errands, she was fine. But the van journey to Hatherly, gave her insides plenty of time to turn to quivering blancmange. To make things worse, they were running late, and Cayley had spent the best part of the journey grumbling at their long-suffering technicians, Gav and Rob. A catering van followed, loaded with drinks, glasses, and other sundries. But only the skeleton staff of four would actually be permitted inside the premises. The clients’ own housekeeping team would maintain the smooth running of the show mid-week. Bellevue Events just had to get that show on the road.
Cayley already had the keys to the building and hurried the others inside, bellowing out their marching orders.
"Keep the ivy off the floor - there's underfloor heating - for God’s sake, we’ve been through this - it'll dry out," Cayley instructed the technicians, "And yes, Gav, of course the altar is the centre piece, so we'll need some large swathes to decorate that. Lily, you've got the favours I hope?"
"Er - yes - I guess..."
Lily’s last-minute job that morning had been to acquire one hundred and twenty AA batteries, which were now paired up and tied in cream bows, to be used as favours. Lily had no idea why.
"I’ll explain later," sighed Cayley.
"Don't you own a vibrator, Lily?"
Lily shot round to face a tall, golden-haired American, with piercing blue eyes and a wide smile, half-wrapped in a light toga.
"Grayson? Sorry - I mean - Mr Paige?" Oh Jesus. He’s nearly naked. That flimsy thing’s almost see-through. Oh God, I’m staring at his crotch. Her eyes flitted back to his.
He nodded, giving her a devilish grin. "Grayson is fine, I don't think we can be overly formal when one of us is only half dressed. So, what do you think?"
"You can certainly pull it off..." Lily gulped, immediately kicking herself for her choice of words. Hell, he was supposed to be a big-shot lawyer, wasn’t he? Not some scantily clad party-goer. Hardly her fault she was now floundering in her own awkwardness.
"I meant, what do you think of the theme. The whole Bacchanal thing?” Grayson laughed. “But thank you. I’m just trying it on for size. Maybe you’d like to pull it off later?" He added, with a wink.
"Stop teasing my staff, Grayson, she's got work to do," smiled Cayley, taking Lily's hand and pulling her back down to earth. Cayley had been right, Grayson was undeniably stunning, and totally aware of his effect on women. Lily could see why Cayley was so smitten, though if she had to choose between him and Seb - man what a luxury - she'd undoubtedly choose Seb. If he was single. Which he most definitely wasn’t. There was something in the way Seb had looked at her in The Ellington, which set her on edg
e, and strange as it was, she’d liked the feeling. More than liked it.
Grayson threw his hands in the air, apologizing dramatically and profusely, much to Cayley’s pleasure, while Lily shook herself out of another little reverie and concentrated on arranging the batteries ornamentally in an urn - no mean feat.
Once she was done with the kinky urn, Lily grabbed an armful of chiffon drapes. The housekeepers were already at work, arranging the fake-marble statues just so, so she followed their lead and jumped into action.
"These are going pretty much everywhere, right? Shall I start in the bedrooms?" She asked, aware that somehow everything she said could be taken the wrong way.
To Lily's surprise, it was Grayson not Cayley who answered. Exactly how involved was he in running this place, she wondered.
“Sure, just head straight down the hall. Ana's made a start on the guest-rooms, she'll give you a hand," he said.
"Oh, you guys are helping?" Bellevue's clientele weren't generally known to dirty their hands with the ground work.
"We'd never get it all ready in time otherwise. Look at the size of this place. Ana's already spent weeks organizing. It's easiest if we keep outside involvement to a minimum, and we’ve only got a staff of four. Doesn't help that we're a man down," he added conspiratorially, gesturing melodramatically towards Seb, who was watching coolly from a doorway. Seb’s eyes held Lily’s as he approached, barefoot, relaxed in his loose cut jeans and fitted t-shirt.
Unflinching, Seb spoke solely to her. "Miss Wilde. It’s good to see you again. Thanks for agreeing to join the team."
Don't say anything stupid, Lily warned herself, trying not to squirm too noticeably.
“Thanks for hiring me. Really. This is - quite something. Hatherly, I mean. Not the event. Well, that too. It’ll be quite an - experience,” she said. Nice one. That didn’t sound stupid at all.
“Seb’s not so much about experience these days, but I’m sure he appreciates the sentiment,” interjected Grayson.
Ignoring him, Seb hauled a box of the drapes into his arms. "I’ll give you a hand. We'll start hanging these in the East wing."
Grayson called after him, "Ana's in the West wing."
But Seb kept on walking. "I know."
He waited in the hallway as Lily caught up.
If she’d felt skittish before, that was nothing to how she felt now, heading into a bedroom with Seb Harper, who was deliberately avoiding his wife.
"You don't have to help. I mean, if you've hired me to fill in for you..."
"That's not the only reason you're here. I also wanted to make sure Mr Bateman kept you on," he said, pushing open the heavy oak door of the first bedroom.
"Oh." Lily hadn't even considered that. She had to admit, Seb’s email to Mr Bateman had probably saved her neck. "Well thank you. Again."
Seb put down the box. He took the drapes from Lily’s arms and lay them on the bed, then stood in front of her, arms folded across his wide chest, brow furrowed, as though torn between impulses. "Don't thank me. I also wanted an excuse to see you again."
"Oh." Don't jump to conclusions. He might not mean it that way. Remember the gorgeous wife. The one with the uber- long legs and the natural tan.
"Is that OK?" He asked.
“Er… I…” Aw crap. Change subject. "So... No toga?" She stammered.
Seb paused, simply observing her for a moment, while she cringed inwardly at her own awkwardness.
“No. No toga,” he smiled. “My party days are over, and if you ask me, this Bacchanal idea is a particularly tacky notion of Ana’s. As I said before, I'm trying something new.”
“Oh.” God, why do I keep saying that. I’m like some kind of moron.
“The parties get old after a while, believe me. And it's been a long while. If I keep behaving like this I'll just end up jaded.”
Lily floundered, unsure of how to respond to Seb’s openness. They weren’t on an equal footing here, no matter which way you spun it, and she seriously wanted to avoid over-stepping the mark. She pretended to be distracted by the task at hand, arranging the drapes ready to hang, and trying to remember to breathe.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.
Lily refused to be drawn into this.
“I’m thinking we’re running behind schedule.”
“You’re blushing, Miss Wilde. Does it shock you?” He pushed.
Lily folded her arms and turned to face him. “Does it shock me? Which bit?” Somehow her tension was slipping into irritation.
“All of it, I guess. What we do. Or in my case - did.” It was Seb’s turn to feign distraction. He took a tobacco packet from his jeans pocket and began rolling. “I want to know what you make of it all.”
Why?! Why does he want to know. He’s enjoying this - watching me squirm.
Lily tried and failed to curtail her anger. “Look, Lord Harper. Seb. Whatever. What you do is up to you. I don’t know what that is exactly, and yes I find the idea of sex with strangers shocking - well no, not shocking- challenging. It's not my thing. I’m not saying it’s wrong, and I’m not judging. But I literally can’t talk to you about it- not because I’m uptight, or embarrassed- but because I signed a thirty-two page confidentiality agreement stating that I’m categorically not allowed to ask anything. So don't treat me like some virginal little flower you can prod and tease. I'm not playing that game, OK.”
Lily's lack of control unnerved her. She was overreacting and she knew it, but it was too late. The words had spilled out of their own accord and there was no taking them back, though she was inclined to try.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t entirely fair.” She was pleased she'd added the entirely. Some of what she'd said was more than fair.
Seb frowned.
“No, you're right. I should know better. I don't think of you as a - what was it? A virginal flower?"
"Uh-huh. That just kind of - slipped out…" Please ground, swallow me.
"And I've already expressly asked you to please call me Seb. Lord Harper sounds awful and I rarely go by ‘whatever’
these days.”
The beginnings of a smile pulled at Lily's lips, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it was about this man that she should feel one emotion one minute, and an entirely different one the next.
"So shall we start again?" Seb asked, continuing before Lily could respond. "I'm Seb. I take my tea white and my coffee black. I hate cooking, love eating. Interests include climbing, trekking, photography… I can't sing and my dancing is questionable. What else - I've always had money, so I've never had to struggle. I'm extremely spoilt, but openly ashamed of it. I hate techno, fake tans and James Bond. Your turn." He smiled, and tucked a cigarette behind his left ear.
"OK, fine. Hi Seb, I'm Lily. Not Miss Wilde, and only Lilian to dad. I’m an only child; which seems like a weird thing to say when you’re twenty-six, but you know what I mean. I don't drink tea, just coffee. I cook a bit, but nothing that takes more than half an hour... I've always lived in London... That enough? I'm struggling here..."
"It's a start," Seb conceded. "Of course I already know a bit about you."
What on earth? It took a moment for Lily to grasp what he meant. "Oh, right. The vetting."
"The vetting,” he agreed. “You didn't mention the journalism."
"No,” she said. Where was he going with this? “The journalism’s on hold.”
"Because?" He asked.
What was this? Why did she feel as though she were on trial?
"Because, right now, I need a steady pay cheque."
"Ah. Well, that's a real shame." Seb grabbed a drape, and climbed onto a chair. “Here, you pass the pins, and I’ll hang these.”
OK, she thought. No trial. Just my paranoia.
Lily obliged him, and for a while they were a studious team. They had a system; sorting, pinning, hanging, moving through the rooms swiftly and efficiently.
"The journalism thing freaked Ana out, you know. She took some conv
incing before she agreed to have you here," Seb admitted, at last.
And there it was. The journalism was an issue. Did they know that her biggest job so far had been an opinion piece on bikini waxes? She suspected not.
"Why? She thinks I'll sell your secrets?"
"It did come up."
Lily shook her head. The idea was ridiculous. There was no way in hell she’d try to make any kind of story out of this situation. It just wasn’t in her nature. She wondered if she’d need to be on the defensive with Ana. She was already dreading meeting her.
She sighed. "You know, three years ago, my upstairs neighbour, Stephan - who for your information I can't stand - started dating a very well known TV chef. This chef - let's call her Miss X - had been trying to get pregnant with her husband - no joy. But then all of a sudden she's announcing her pregnancy, and breaks it off with Stephan. Now that would have been a good story. Only one problem."
"And what's that?" Seb sounded like he already knew the answer.
"The problem is, I'm not that kind of journalist. That's gossip, not news. I don't care if it's a money spinner. I'd rather be poor than cheap," she said, hoping she didn’t sound too pissy. She felt pissy. She just didn’t want to sound it.
Seb nodded. It was as though he could hear a subtext in her words that even she wasn’t aware of. "Anyhow,” he said, “Ana wants to meet you."
"Which is why we're in the West Wing when she's in the East?" Quizzed Lily.
Seb laughed, but said nothing. When the last of the chiffon had been pinned in the West Wing, they collected more, and headed towards the East.