Our Little Secret

by Jenna Ellis

  I’m completely pinned to the bed, tied by handcuffs and, with Carmena on top of me, I can hardly move. The vibrator is exquisitely close, but not close enough. Every fibre of me strains towards it, silently begging for the release that might come.

  The atmosphere on the bed is quieter. I hear a deep moan from the other side of the bed and more licking noises, but I can only concentrate on the vibrator. I grab onto the bedstead, trying to strain against it.

  ‘Hush, hush, little bird,’ Marnie says. ‘Don’t get carried away. It’s all over now.’

  68

  I don’t think she’s serious, but quite suddenly the atmosphere changes.

  ‘Brilliant, that’s great, everyone,’ Marnie says, clapping her hands. ‘What do you think, Marshall?’

  ‘They’re terrific shots. I think we’ve got more than enough. It’s a wrap, people.’

  Everyone starts clapping and moving off the bed. The vibrator leaves me abruptly. Carmena hooks her leg over me and her weight disappears.

  Is this a joke? Is this really happening?

  I feel like I’ve been left dangling and, pulling myself together, retreating takes everything I’ve got.

  There’s laughter and chatting, and I hear more champagne bottles popping.

  Eventually I realize that I’ve been left alone. And I’m still handcuffed and blindfolded.

  ‘Hello?’ I call out. ‘Over here.’

  I strain against the handcuffs. I really can’t move.

  I hear Marnie’s voice coming closer, then suddenly I feel her bounce on the bed next to me, making me jump. She undoes the handcuffs and I take off my blindfold, my eyes adjusting to the bright studio lights.

  Mamie’s eyes are shining. ‘That was fun, huh?’ she grins, jumping off the bed again to join the models.

  Everyone is in a celebratory mood, but I don’t know what has happened to each of the models, so I can’t look at them. I certainly can’t look at Lee.

  I feel shaken – ashamed and worried about what just happened. Why is everyone laughing? Didn’t they get horny, too? Or was it just me? I feel embarrassed that I’ve obviously transgressed some shoot rule. Maybe it was just acting, for them.

  ‘Come and see,’ Marnie calls.

  I get off the bed and go over to the massive Mac, which the models crowd around. I look at the shots as they arrive on the screen. They are all grainy and shadowy. There are lots of close-ups of the sex toys. Nothing explicit. It’s all just suggestion.

  Then I see the vibrator against the stretched fabric of my knickers.

  ‘My God, Ed will love these when he sees them,’ Marnie says. ‘Look at that.’

  I stare at the picture. My mole – the mole that Edward claims to love – is visibly on show. If he sees the shots, then he’ll know I’ve been here. Panic engulfs me. If he thinks I was tied up on the bed with Marnie, then what else will he think?

  And then I see the shot of my lips. And there’s something that looks alarmingly real between them.

  Oh, fuck! What have I done?

  69

  I can barely function, I’m in such a panic, although I try my best not to show it. The models get dressed and swap numbers, and there’s lots of air-kissing. They all seem completely fine about the shoot, but then I can see why they would. They all trust Marnie. She treats them like they’re all family. And she pays them well, too.

  ‘You were brilliant today,’ Helen says to me, kissing me. ‘Come to the bar with us, if you like. Now you’re one of us.’

  Am I one of them? Do they mean: now I’m a model? Or: now I’m complicit in the secret shoot? I’m flattered to be part of Marnie’s tribe, but at the same time I can’t help feeling that I’ve betrayed Edward in some fundamental way I can’t put my finger on. As if Marnie’s shoot has blotted out everything that happened. I try and remember our day on the boat together, like I could earlier, but now the memories are as elusive as smoke.

  ‘I’m going to help Marnie clear up, then maybe we’ll come down.’

  I find myself blushing as Lee kisses me goodbye. It can’t have been him, can it? He can’t have actually been in my mouth? Everything tells me that I’m being ridiculous, but the photograph looks so realistic.

  Eventually it’s just Marnie and me in the studio. She turns down the music and puts on something soft and soothing, and the whole atmosphere and frenetic energy of the day finally go.

  She sits on the bed and lights a spliff. For a second she looks exhausted as she inhales.

  ‘What a day!’ she sighs. Her eyes crinkle as she smiles.

  ‘It went well, didn’t it?’ I ask her.

  She picks a bit of tobacco off her tongue and blows out some smoke. I see her cleavage in her vest. A flash of the bed comes to me – Carmena over me, the slit in her gauze pants . . .

  ‘You were sweet to help out.’

  ‘It was fun,’ I tell her with a shy smile. She pats the bed next to her and I sit down. She hands me the spliff and I take a puff. I don’t inhale too deeply. I remember what happened last time.

  ‘You seemed worried. Are you OK, baby?’ she asks me.

  ‘Just . . . it’s just . . .’ I glance across at her, feeling like a fool. ‘I’m worried about that shot. That one of my mouth. I don’t want you to use it.’

  I hand the spliff back to her.

  ‘It’s wasn’t . . . it wasn’t – you know . . . real, was it? It was so difficult to tell. It wasn’t . . . Lee?’

  Marnie hoots with laughter. She puts her hand on her chest and rocks back.

  ‘Oh, poor Miss Henshaw. You are so innocent.’

  Innocent? If only she knew.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ I say. I feel oddly close to tears. She curtails her laughter and then goes across the studio and roots around in a box. She comes back with a thick black object.

  ‘This baby? I guess it’s done its job if you thought it was real.’

  She’s holding a big black dildo with ridges on it. She sticks out her tongue and licks the end of it, her eyes fixed on me. Then she puts it in her mouth and lets it push out her cheek, just as it did mine. From where I’m standing, it looks absolutely real and extremely rude. Her eyes narrow and smoulder. She’s enjoying teasing me. That was what I did to her husband. Seeing her with the dildo in her mouth makes me imagine her doing it to him as well. I feel blood rush to my cheeks.

  Then she stops and hands it to me.

  ‘Wow,’ I tell her, meaning it. I’m so relieved that it’s not real, but Marnie being so sexual with it has set me more jittery than I can make sense of. ‘It . . . it felt so real. Not that I’ve . . .’

  ‘Haven’t you?’ she asks, and then she smiles softly. ‘Of course not. My innocent little bird.’

  I blush again. Deeper this time. I can’t meet her eye.

  ‘It’s horny, huh,’ she says, but it’s not a question. ‘I like it, too. I always design my sex toys with my own fantasies in mind.’

  ‘Oh,’ I mutter, taken aback that she’s admitted something like that.

  ‘Oh, don’t look like that,’ she teases me. ‘Like I’ve embarrassed you. Surely we’re beyond that, after today.’

  She’s got a point.

  ‘Fantasy is entirely normal and healthy. Haven’t you ever fantasized about being filled up by a great big one like that?’ she asks me, nodding to the dildo in my hand. ‘Of course you have,’ she answers for me. ‘Every girl has. A lot of men, too.’

  I don’t know how to respond. I think about the picture I saw in the studio of the male model. I feel slightly sweaty as I hold the large dildo. She hands the spliff to me again and this time I inhale on it greedily.

  She takes the dildo from me and holds it up like a trophy.

  ‘I think it’s magnificent,’ she tells me. ‘Some of my finest work.’

  And I can’t help but giggle. Maybe it’s the spliff hitting.

  I force myself to be brave. I have to ask her. I have to find out the truth.

  ‘So talking of black men .
. . The other night . . . when you left me in town?’

  She turns her head and raises her eyebrows at me. She’s clearly surprised I’ve brought it up.

  I force myself to continue, even though her look unnerves me. ‘The guy I saw you with . . . ?’

  ‘Alain? The dancer?’

  I nod. ‘The guy in the booth?’

  Marnie stares at the dildo, following my train of thought. ‘Oh, did you think . . . ?’ She looks at me sympathetically. ‘No, sweetie. He’s one of my oldest friends. He sometimes models. In fact he was going to come today, but he had a Calvin Klein shoot.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘But, I saw . . .’

  My words fizzle out. What did I see? Her dancing and flirting – a long kiss. Nothing more.

  ‘Sorry,’ I mutter. ‘I just thought . . .’

  I can’t tell her what I thought. I feel anxious that I thought it; even more anxious that I wanted to tell Edward about it.

  Edward. My Edward. But he’s her Edward, too, I realize as she starts to speak again.

  ‘Honey, you have a lot to learn,’ she says. She puts the dildo down and takes another puff of the spliff. ‘I flirt with guys like Alain, only because it’s so safe to flirt with gay guys like him. I would never cheat on Edward. He’s the most jealous guy in the world.’

  Is he? That’s news to me, but I suddenly feel like I’m on quicksand. How have we managed to start talking about Edward and Marnie’s relationship with him? I don’t say anything. If I say anything, I know I’ll give myself away.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I just . . .’

  ‘I got carried away. It was just so exciting to be back in Manhattan. To be back home. I miss it so damn much.’

  ‘Why did you move then?’ I ask, surprised.

  ‘To get away. To make sure we got time on our own at home. You know, proper family time with the boys. It was so hectic when we lived in Manhattan. Always people around. And things . . .’ she sighs, ‘got complicated.’

  Suddenly, I remember the court case and the gagging order. I remember Harry and the secrets he claimed to know about the Parkers. Is Marnie going to let me in on the mystery?

  ‘It’s easy for you,’ she sighs. She picks up a strand of my hair and runs it through her fingers. ‘You’re young. Everything is simple. Things get more difficult as you get older.’

  What’s difficult about her life, I wonder? ‘How?’ I ask.

  ‘Life is tricky. Relationships are tricky,’ she says with a sad laugh.

  She’s still holding my hair and, as her eyes meet mine, my heart thumps very hard. She’s talking about her and Edward. She’s talking about the fact that he is unfaithful to her.

  Oh my God. I feel panic sweep over me in a wave. She knows. She’s telling me she knows.

  ‘Edward’s a very special man,’ Marnie says, seriously. ‘One of a kind. It takes a lot to keep him, you know?’

  I don’t know. I don’t know what she’s had to endure to keep Edward’s attention, but now my confidence wavers. If she hasn’t been able to keep him, what hope in hell do I have?

  ‘And I will do anything I can to keep him happy,’ she says. She doesn’t look at me, but stretches away and puts the spliff down on the side table next to the bed. Her vest rides up and I see the curve of her waist.

  Is she threatening me? Is she telling me to back off?

  I will do anything I can to keep him happy.

  What does she mean?

  But when she turns back I see that she’s not being threatening at all.

  ‘Look at you. You’re just a girl. Look at your lustrous hair and your bright eyes. You have no idea what it’s like to get older. To be older.’

  ‘You’re not old. You’re amazing. You’re the most attractive woman in the world.’

  She laughs and strokes my cheeks with the back of her hand, like my skin is the most precious thing she’s ever felt. I remember Edward stroking my cheek almost in the same way, but somehow with Marnie it’s different. This feels more intimate. More . . . new. Like she’s taking me somewhere forbidden and I’ve already started following, before I realize what she’s doing.

  There’s a moment of absolute stillness between us. I retreat, freeze.

  ‘I think you’re incredible, anyway,’ I tell her. ‘I’m sure Edward does, too.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispers and I feel a surge of affection towards her. I smile back, then reach out and hug her and we embrace, sitting on the bed. It feels so good to give something back to her. Even if it is only a hug. I sense she needs one, after today.

  ‘You’re so sweet. You have no idea what a breath of fresh air you are,’ she says, smiling softly down at me; then she leans down and kisses me gently on the lips, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And, oddly, it is.

  She doesn’t say anything, but pushes me over and we lie side-by-side on the bed and she laughs. I feel her hand take mine.

  We lie watching the shadows on the roof of the studio. I feel stoned and giddy, but next to Marnie I feel so safe. I feel connected to her. Like it’s her and me against the world.

  ‘Are you going to tell me off for kissing you?’ she says.

  ‘No,’ I tell her. ‘Of course not.’

  She moves then and leans up.

  ‘Then I’m going to kiss you again,’ she whispers, as if we’ve just decided this together.

  And before I can say anything, her lips are on mine. This time the kiss is different. It feels different. She doesn’t move away, and neither do I, and after a couple of moments I feel her mouth open and a spark of electricity jolts through me as our tongues touch.

  It’s horny, yes, like I’ve been with Edward, but it’s so unexpected and so forbidden, it has an edge to it that is thrillingly new. I know I should stop and pull away, but somehow I can’t seem to. It’s like being kissed for the very first time – ever. Well, it is for me, by a woman. The knowledge of this throbs through me. Is this how women kiss? Wow!

  Finally, she pulls away and smiles, like she’s delighted. I see the tiny gap between her teeth that I adore. I’m shaking uncontrollably and she trails her fingertip down my stomach.

  ‘You’re such a sensual little thing, aren’t you?’ she whispers.

  I feel molten hot as her hand reaches my jeans and she squeezes me. ‘I saw you on the bed. You got very hot and sticky, didn’t you?’ she says, a slight tease in her voice.

  I reach out and touch her face, then her hair. She stares intently down at me as I feel her hand over my jeans, her fingers pressing into me through the fabric.

  ‘Maybe we should finish that off?’ she whispers. ‘What do you say?’

  No, is what I should say. No, because I’m not bisexual and I’m in love with her husband – and I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual. But Edward and me: that relationship, right now, feels like it belongs to another land and time. And God, yes, I’m curious. Curious as hell. Because I want to know what it feels like to be with a woman. All those feelings I had on the shoot, when Carmena was on me, come rushing back. Only this time with the knowledge that Marnie and I are alone, and this might be my only chance ever to answer her question. Edward has nothing to do with this – with me and Marnie. This is about women, I tell myself. How will I ever know how it really feels to be a woman if I’ve never felt one – experienced one for myself.

  I take the plunge. I can’t find any words. Instead I slide my hand under her top, lifting up her vest. I want to feel her flesh.

  She makes a low, guttural sigh that makes my insides flip. Like she’s been waiting forever for me to touch her.

  She pulls away quickly and takes off her top, her hand leaving me.

  This loss of contact sends a shockwave of reality. What am I doing? What are we doing?

  But it’s all moving too fast and I don’t want it to stop. It can’t stop now.

  She doesn’t say anything as she takes off her thin bra and then, apart from her jean shorts, she’s naked.

  Her
breasts, now that I’ve finally seen all of them, are larger than I expected and her nipples are puckered and already erect. I’ve seen them, partially of course, when we were in her room, and I’ve seen them in the portrait, but now they are here in front of me, it feels more intimate than anything I’ve ever witnessed. I reach out and cup one of her breasts. I can’t believe this is happening, I can’t believe I’m touching her, but I can’t help myself. I draw her towards me and kiss her lips, my shaking hand exploring the shape of her, feeling the weight of her breast. She is so soft. So womanly. So wonderful.

  Then I stop kissing her and, feeling brave, lean down and flick my tongue against her nipple. She moans. And in that noise, all the power shifts. She wants me and I want her. And suddenly I need to explore as much of her as I possibly can. And I won’t stop until she’s taught me everything she knows.

  70

  We are silent as Trewin drives us through the dark night back to the house. Marnie doesn’t look at me, but sits next to me, her hand over mine.

  I can still taste her. I feel shaken and ashamed and thrilled at the knowledge of what we’ve done. I know she’s feeling the same. I feel the silence fizzing with the knowledge of what we just did.

  Does she feel undone by the passion we shared, too?

  Because it was passionate. All of it, but especially once we were naked together. I can’t stop remembering how it felt to lie together, how it felt to be engulfed in her softness. How it felt more sensual than anything sexual I’ve ever experienced with a man, but it was open, too. Because we talked and laughed as we explored one another and it felt so private, being there on the bed with her, just me and her and the toys.

  Oh my God. The toys.

  And it was me. I instigated it. I told her to show me everything, teach me everything. I told her to explain and demonstrate her work, and oh, how she loved it. How she loved exploring me, showing me, leading me forward to feel more, think more about my body. How she called a sexual honesty from me that no one ever has.

  I can’t breathe as I think of myself splayed handcuffed and naked, and how we slid together in the oily lubricant she rubbed over me, and how she slid that large black dildo into me and licked me.