The Gallery

by Fredrica Alleyn

  ‘But I’m sleeping with Tom Penfold,’ said Cressida.

  Sue’s eyebrows rose. ‘I suppose someone has to! Seriously, Cressida, these men knock spots off Tom and the beauty of it is, you’re only obeying orders!’

  ‘No one told me I was expected to sleep with Guy Cronje, or any other man come to that,’ protested Cressida. ‘I couldn’t. It takes me ages to get to know a man well enough to do that.’

  Sue frowned. ‘No one told you because they couldn’t possibly order a woman to sleep with a suspect. Suppose it came out in court? They’d be done for enticement. I’ve no doubt Detective Chief Inspector Williams assumed you’d understood the sub-text. Your Tom will have done, which probably explains his long face at the meeting.’

  ‘Well, I’ll find out what I can, but there’s no way I’m getting sexually involved with anyone,’ said Cressida firmly. ‘If I string this Guy along, assuming he even looks twice at me, that should be enough.’

  Sue looked at Cressida carefully. She was tall, about 5 8", and her dark brown hair was cut in a very attractive gamine bob, but she seemed totally unaware of how attractive she could make herself with more effort. Also, in Sue’s opinion, her clothes were a disaster. She wondered, with some amusement, how long Cressida’s resolve would hold out once she became part of life at the gallery.

  ‘You’ll have to play it by ear,’ she said casually, aware that to press her replacement would be a mistake. ‘The only thing is, once I’ve given you your crash course in art and got you a phoney degree in fine art, you’ll have to do something about the clothes you wear. They like their staff to look glamorous but sophisticated at the gallery, and full make-up is expected at all times.’

  ‘I can’t afford glamorous, sophisticated clothes,’ retorted Cressida.

  ‘That’s one of the perks of the job; the force gives you a very generous allowance and I’ll come round the shops and help you choose some outfits. It’s vital that you get it right for the interview. Marcia’s capable of rejecting you on sartorial grounds alone if you wear the wrong tights or shoes! I’m going to recommend you and say you and I have been friends for years, ever since we met while taking a year out before university, but while that will help it will be up to you to clinch the position.’

  Cressida was beginning to hope she failed the interview – it was all starting to sound very complicated and not at all her kind of thing. ‘What’s Guy Cronje actually like?’ she asked tentatively.

  ‘I didn’t ever get to know him that well,’ admitted Sue. ‘He’s certainly got something, but it isn’t conventional charm. He’s quite tall, very slim, dark haired and pale, but he gives off this air of repressed danger. He’s like a simmering volcano that you feel might erupt at any moment. I think it’s that dangerous quality that draws all the women.’

  ‘I don’t like strong emotions,’ admitted Cressida, ordering an espresso coffee. ‘That’s why Tom suits me; he’s wonderfully lacking in danger. I like to know where I am with people.’

  ‘I think this job will do you good,’ commented Sue.

  ‘You sound as though you need a fresh perspective on life, particularly in the sexual area.’

  ‘I’m quite happy as I am, thank you!’ laughed Cressida. ‘After all, this is a job, not a life-long commitment. Do you think there’s anything criminal going on at the gallery?’ she added.

  ‘I think there’s something going on, but I’m not sure what,’ said Sue slowly. ‘Sometimes there was a very strange atmosphere, but I never made out if the undercurrents were due to law breaking or sexual tension.’

  ‘You make it sound as though it should be vice, not fraud, handling this job,’ commented Cressida.

  ‘What’s wrong with a bit of vice?’ asked Sue with a grin. ‘At least when I’m old and grey I’ll have some good memories to look back on, and quite a few of them will have come from my time at the gallery. Unfortunately, not with Guy Cronje though. He always seemed to think of me as a total airhead, and I didn’t dare enlighten him in case he went into my background too carefully. That’s one thing to remember, Cressida. Be on your guard. He’s very sharp, and if you make a mistake then he’ll spot it.’

  They paid the bill and left the restaurant together after arranging to meet up the following day for Cressida’s crash course in art to begin. What with the wine and her head buzzing after all she’d learnt, Cressida headed for home and slept for the rest of the afternoon, only just waking in time to get herself bathed and changed before Tom arrived.

  It was clear from the moment he walked in the door that he was in a bad mood. Normally nothing troubled Tom, and Cressida felt irritated that her new job was already causing trouble in her tranquil private life.

  ‘Do you want to go out for a meal?’ asked Tom, sinking down on to the sofa as he spoke.

  ‘No thanks; I had lunch with Sue Hinds at that Italian place round the corner from the station, so I’m not hungry,’ she assured him.

  ‘I suppose I ought to say sorry about this morning,’ he said at last. ‘I knew what was coming days ago, but it was highly confidential. You’re not annoyed, are you?’

  ‘I was, but I’m not now,’ Cressida replied, realising to her surprise that this was true. ‘I don’t suppose you’re any happier about it all than I am.’

  ‘No, I’m not!’ said Tom vehemently. ‘I’ve read all about Guy Cronje and he’s the last man on earth I’d choose for you to work for.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be in any physical danger,’ said Cressida. ‘He hasn’t got a record for violence, has he?’

  ‘No, nothing like that, but he seems to be a danger to women.’

  ‘Only silly women, and I’m not a silly woman,’ said Cressida sharply.

  ‘No, but you are a woman all the same, and sex is a funny thing,’ muttered Tom. ‘Who’d have thought he wouldn’t fancy Susan Hinds. Every man at the station fancies her.’

  ‘Is that a fact?’ asked Cressida, her temper rising.

  Tom quickly tried to retract his statement. ‘I don’t!’ he exclaimed. ‘You know me, Cress, I’m a one-woman man – but she is sexy.’

  ‘You mean I’m not?’ asked Cressida quietly.

  Tom frowned. ‘I think you’re sexy, but it isn’t in an obvious way. You know that, Cressida. You’re just not a siren, and you wouldn’t want to be, would you?’

  ‘I might not mind,’ she retorted. ‘In fact, I’m beginning to think this job might be fun. After all, I’ll have my mind improved with all this artistic education, and my dress sense improved with a shopping expedition in the company of the sexiest WPC in west London. What more could a girl ask for?’

  Tom looked baffled. ‘What are you angry about? I always thought you were comfortable with yourself, that’s one of your attractions. I hate women who spend all their time fussing about clothes and make-up. You look nice, and you’re always neat and tidy; you don’t need anything else. It’s you as a person I like. Isn’t that what women want these days?’

  ‘It would be better,’ said Cressida slowly, ‘if you thought I was a desirable person in every respect, not just “from within” as it were. I had no idea Sue was so popular.’

  ‘Look, if this is going to cause trouble between us, why don’t you tell Williams you can’t go through with it?’ suggested Tom. ‘I mean, you could say that art just isn’t your thing, which it isn’t to my way of thinking. There are plenty of get-outs that won’t go against you. Let’s face it, Detective Chief Inspector Williams can’t afford another failure.’

  ‘I won’t be a failure,’ said Cressida, suddenly absolutely determined to make a success of the assignment. ‘I shall turn myself into a highly desirable and sexual woman, gain Guy Cronje’s confidence, discover exactly what’s going on at the gallery and then when I’ve broken up the entire dastardly operation I shall be given an award by the queen for bravery in the face of blatant sexism!’

  Tom put his head in his hands. ‘I knew this was a mistake,’ he complained. ‘Why they picked you I’l
l never know.’

  Resisting the urge to pick up a vase and break it over his head, Cressida sat down next to him. ‘I won’t take that as a personal insult,’ she said softly, ‘but don’t push your luck, Tom. There are limits even to my self-control.’

  He turned and put his arms round her. ‘You know how much you mean to me, Cress. I’m crazy about you, but I don’t want people changing you. I like you as you are – the last thing I want is a pale replica of someone like Susan Hinds.’

  ‘I won’t be a pale replica of Sue, I’ll be a super-charged version of myself,’ Cressida promised him.

  ‘You won’t fall for this man, will you?’ persisted Tom. ‘I couldn’t bear it if I had to stand by and hear how well you were doing at your job if I thought it meant you and he were … well, you know what I mean.’

  Cressida did know, and she felt a frisson of excitement run through her. Of course, she knew that nothing would happen at the gallery. Even if she got the job, the chances of Guy Cronje fancying her and her reciprocating the feeling were negligible, but just the same a whole new world was opening up to her and she realised that she was beginning to feel a sense of excited anticipation.

  ‘Let’s go up to bed,’ said Tom suddenly, pulling her to her feet.

  Cressida was about to make her way upstairs, but then, already acting quite out of character, she had an overwhelming desire for them to make love in her front room. She stood by the post at the bottom of the banister rail and began to unbutton her long crinkle-cotton dress. ‘Let’s stay here,’ she said softly.

  Tom stared at her. ‘The sofa isn’t big enough,’ he protested.

  ‘Then we’ll use something else. ‘I know, my swivel chair, the one in front of my computer, that’ll do. Luckily it hasn’t got casters or life might be difficult!’

  Watched by a startled Tom, Cressida moved over to the chair and then sat back in it, her head hanging slightly to the side and her hands gripping the arms of the chair as she swivelled her lower body towards where Tom was standing.

  ‘People can see in!’ he protested.

  ‘They can’t!’ said Cressida, wishing that he’d just follow her mood and start making love to her quickly. ‘I haven’t cleaned the windows for so long I can’t even see out!’

  Now she was moving against the seat of the chair, her hips wriggling provocatively, and finally Tom too was overwhelmed by desire. Quickly he unfastened his trousers and let them fall round his ankles as he knelt between her legs. Cressida wrapped her calves around his lower back and he pushed urgently at her bra, until his fingers could caress her already hard nipples.

  Cressida began to ache low in her belly and what she wanted most was for him to lower his head and let his tongue wander up and down the exquisitely sensitive moist channel below her clitoris, but this was something Tom rarely chose to do and tonight was no exception. Instead he pulled his erection free of his boxer shorts and she felt the swollen tip brushing against her pubic hair for a moment, until her growing excitement caused her sex lips to swell and part so that his glans was now against the flesh of her vulva. She rotated her hips urgently as she tried to get some kind of clitoral stimulation. Her breathing was rapid and noisy in the slowly darkening room, and Tom’s breathing was harsh as his hands continued to fondle her breasts while his mouth nuzzled against her neck.

  She could feel her breasts swelling, and the tension in her pelvis increased so that she thrust upward against his penis, frantic now for some direct contact against her clitoris. Tom’s hips were thrusting backward and forward as he slid up and down the length of her outer channel, and when at last her swollen bud was touched by the underside of the ridge of flesh beneath his glans she gasped with pleasure and felt her belly begin to tighten.

  ‘Do that again, Tom,’ she whispered, but Tom either didn’t hear or didn’t understand because almost immediately she felt him slide inside her and begin thrusting in earnest, lost in his own journey to satisfaction.

  Luckily, because she was able to angle her body as she wished, Cressida managed to maintain some indirect stimulation of her clitoris, but despite this and the first thrilling moments when her entire body tightened in anticipation of sexual release, Tom still came before she did and she heard him gasp and then cry out with delight as his orgasm rushed through him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered as he collapsed against her. ‘I got over-excited. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re all right too.’

  ‘Go down on me,’ begged Cressida. ‘Please. I want to feel your tongue on me, then I’ll explode, I know I will.’

  ‘Leave it to me,’ murmured Tom, and as he kissed the base of her throat and rubbed the palm of one hand across the surface of her nipples, his other hand went between her thighs and she felt him slide two fingers slowly up and down the side of her clitoris.

  Now her body tightened again and Cressida was almost crying with need as he circled around the hard mass of frantic nerve endings, until suddenly there was an explosion of white light behind her closed eyelids and then her whole body convulsed in a climax.

  At last Cressida was able to relax and her whole body felt limp and strangely weightless. Tom stood up and began to straighten his clothing. ‘That was great!’ he enthused. ‘You didn’t mind coming last, did you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Cressida with a smile, and it was true. She didn’t mind and she’d had a very satisfying orgasm, but she couldn’t help wondering why Tom hadn’t done any of the things she’d wanted, and for the first time since she’d been sleeping with him she started to wonder what it might be like with a different man – a man who was more adventurous.

  ‘We make a good pair,’ Tom said, with what Cressida thought was a rather smug smile as they sat drinking coffee a little later. ‘I’m sorry I was in a bad mood when I got here. It was stupid of me. I should have known you’re not the kind of girl to have her head turned by a man like Guy Cronje, even if he does fancy you.’

  ‘Yes, you should,’ murmured Cressida, resting her head against his shoulder. Luckily Tom couldn’t read her mind, because she resolved there and then that she’d make this Guy Cronje fancy her if it was the last thing she did, just to shock everyone who knew her and seemed to think the chances of that happening were virtually nil.

  Tom stayed over that night, and the next morning they made love again, but in their usual, more conventional, fashion. When he left her house he looked and felt extremely pleased with himself, not realising that Cressida was now very anxious that she got the job as receptionist at Guy Cronje’s gallery, Room With a View.

  ‘Today’s the big day then, Cressida,’ said Inspector Cross, smiling across his desk at her. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Nervous,’ she admitted. ‘I think I’m all right on the actual art side, I’ve been studying art books day and night and gone round more galleries than I knew existed! I’m more worried about the rest of the interview. Suppose Marcia Neville doesn’t like me?’

  ‘It’s your job to make her like you,’ pointed out her superior. ‘It shouldn’t be a problem; you certainly look the part!’

  For the first time that Cressida could remember, Inspector Cross was looking at her as an attractive woman rather than one of his WPCs, and she realised what a difference her new style of dressing had made. Cross had often seen her in casual clothes, but he’d never looked at her in that way before.

  ‘Susan chose this outfit,’ she admitted, glancing down at her V-necked collarless black jacket with large gold buttons that ended just below her hips. With it she was wearing a short, straight black skirt and a cream satin blouse with a draped neckline that made it look as though she was wearing a scarf rather than a blouse. ‘I wouldn’t have chosen any of it, but now I’ve got it I can see that Susan was right.’

  ‘She certainly was,’ he said appreciatively. ‘From the look of your expenses sheet you’ve bought a few more outfits like it too.’

  ‘Susan said it was essential,’ said Cressida. ‘If you think we overs
pent then –’

  ‘Good heavens, no!’ he exclaimed quickly. ‘Chief Inspector Williams would never forgive me if I spoilt his operation by penny pinching. Susan was quite right. Appearances count for a lot in this kind of job. You’re the face of the gallery, just as here you’re the face of the police force.’

  ‘I think I’m going to miss the excitement of the work here,’ admitted Cressida. ‘I doubt if there’ll be many robberies, domestic assaults or drunks in the gallery.’

  ‘If the fraud squad are right, the crimes going on at that gallery are far more serious,’ Inspector Cross reminded her. ‘Don’t forget that either, will you? People who commit dangerous large-scale frauds are usually totally ruthless, however charming they may appear on the surface.’

  ‘I won’t forget,’ she assured him.

  Inspector Cross nodded with satisfaction. ‘I know you won’t. Luckily you’re not the type of girl to get carried away by the thrill of an illicit dalliance. I told Detective Chief Inspector Williams that you’ve got a mind that’s more like a man’s. He was very relieved to hear it, I can tell you.’

  Cressida was slightly less than thrilled, and as she made her way out of the station and hailed a taxi to take her to Elgin Crescent, she thought that it would serve them all right if she totally lost her head over this Guy Cronje and ended up having a mad, passionate affair with him. Although she prided herself on her common sense and emotional reserve, she didn’t enjoy hearing other people talk about her in the way they had over the past week. They’d succeeded in making her sound passionless, which she knew she wasn’t.

  Her annoyance at Inspector Cross’s remarks helped to drive some of her nerves away, and when she climbed out of the cab and walked through the heavy swing doors into the shining white brightness of the gallery she was feeling relaxed, confident and positive.

  ‘Can I help you?’ asked a pencil-thin, raven-haired girl at the desk by the door.

  ‘My name’s Cressida Farleigh. I’ve come about the position of receptionist,’ she explained.