Darkest Fantasies

by Raines, Kimberley

  When Kevin walked into the boardroom he fairly waltzed with the euphoria from that long night's loving, in spite of his tiredness. He tried not to think of the following days, when Alicia would be looking out for him, waiting on stairs or in doorways for that quick fondle she was now used to. They always felt possessive for some reason, after a bonking session. He felt vague feelings of regret. She had been so very easy to manipulate. Accompanied by a faint stirring in his groin he recalled clambering onto the bed, how he had pulled her head between his legs and asked her to suckle him into fullness once more. It was so very comforting, and required little effort on his part. She hadn't been too keen when her soft lips roused him to another erection and he ordered her to circle him with her tongue, but all he had to do was threaten to leave and she sucked harder, and fought against her inclination to gag when he thrust her head down for his ejaculation.

  Now she would be expecting more of the same, and for a while he would be happy to comply, although it was never as good as the first time. After a while someone new would enter his orbit, and his magnetism would find a new target. It always took them a while to realise there was nothing permanent in these games. Didn't the women talk amongst themselves? He gave a private grin. Of course they didn't. Unlike men, women didn't boast of the conquests, but almost seemed embarrassed by them. He couldn't understand that.

  By the evening, of course, he would be tired, but it was a good kind of weariness and he looked forward to the comfort of his own home. As he thought of his wife his gaze softened. Esther would rub his feet, run him a hot bath so he could soak, and if he felt pleasantly tired, he might even find the energy to make love to her. She deserved that much from him.

  Frank Brachlyn, the chairman, couldn't help noticing the almost instantaneous level of tension that arrived in the boardroom with Kevin. The men because they saw him as a threat; they really couldn't understand what it was he had that they didn't, and the women because they were angered by desires which had no place in a modern woman's agenda.

  Frank knew all this, while remaining absolutely baffled to the exact nature of Kevin's sexual magnetism. It was nothing he could categorise. The man was fairly good-looking in a classic kind of way, clean cut and presentable, verging on six foot, and looking stylish in whatever he wore, but none of that was out of the ordinary. No, it was something deeper; something more basic and primitive, something very predatorial that could assess a woman's sexual experience and availability in an instant, even while he was discussing interest rates and market trends with her. Yet he still couldn't understand why the women fell for him. One look at those cold eyes should have put them off for life.

  Thus, for various reasons every person in the room loathed the sight of him, but the reason he still remained employed by High Corp plc lay in the fact that the very magnetism they loved to hate was often put conveniently to use on the company's behalf. As he sat down, late as always, there was a sudden shuffling of paper and clearing of throats.

  'Kevin, my boy,' the chairman said with a flash of white teeth. 'We've just been talking about you. It seems that the FairBank deal is having teething troubles. They're getting cold feet. I was just letting everyone know that I have decided to take their directors out for a meal. You know the ropes: wine, dine, and soften, and bye the bye, when I've had a bit to drink, let them know that we've received another offer which we're considering in the light of their present lukewarm state.'

  'Have we?' Kevin asked with interest.

  'Of course not. I don't want to lose this one, but it wouldn't do them any harm to believe we're back on the market. If we play hard to get it will inject new enthusiasm into their bid. Put them on their toes, make them think they're fighting for it, Kevin, my boy. What do you say? I really want your support.'

  Kevin's eyes gleamed at the challenge, but that was the only sign of enthusiasm he gave away. But inside he was euphoric. They needed him, the bastards. 'Sounds reasonable. Why not? When are we going to do it?'

  'Saturday. It's all organised. I trust you don't have any prior engagements?'

  'No, nothing of any importance.' Kevin leaned back, stretched his arms behind his head and crossed his legs comfortably, his thoughts taking a new turn. He had been intending to push Michelle, that new secretary, into the final confrontation, and see if he couldn't wangle the weekend with her. Would she or wouldn't she? He snapped his brain into gear. That would have to wait on the back burner; this was his livelihood, his big career move.

  Frank slapped Kevin's knee with a jocular comradeship he did not feel. 'That's great, my boy. And I thought this was the very opportunity to let the wives out of the cupboards, eh? Show the FairBank crowd that we are a happy bunch with traditional family values. Quite important, these days.'

  Kevin blanched fractionally. 'Oh, I'm not sure that Esther can—'

  'Don't you worry your head about it,' Frank said. 'I've had my secretary invite the wives personally, and your little Esther has agreed to put off her proposed family visit until after the weekend. Just take her out shopping, dear boy, and buy her a new frock for the occasion. And tell her not to worry, we won't eat her. You ought to get her out a bit more - get her polished up a bit.'

  Kevin's heart sank into his boots, hearing a warning in the tone. Wives were an essential part of these functions; but he swallowed his discomfort admirably. 'I'm sure she'll enjoy it,' he said, his fixed smile attaining a slightly strained appearance. Damn the man, he knew Esther was no socialiser. She would dry up and go all mousy and cling to him as she always did, cramping his style. Hell.

  But it was fait accompli, and they all knew it. The men smirked down at their papers, enjoying his discomfort, but the women grinned openly. After all, had they not all seen Kevin's poor little dab of a wife? You could almost understand why he felt the need to bonk everything in sight. God knows how he came to get saddled with her. Perhaps she'd had money, or perhaps he felt sorry for her, but whatever the reason, she was going to be out of her depth at this party, and with any luck she would sink like a stone and drag Casanova bloody Kevin with her.

  The board meeting carried on above Kevin's head. He could think of nothing but the excruciating realisation that if Esther came she was going to let him down. She was great at home, but a real liability when it came to socialising. How could he get out of it? Perhaps he should persuade her to be ill? He grimaced; she couldn't dissemble at all. She was hopeless at lying. He would have known instantly if she'd ever had an affair or something, because she was just too damned naive to hide it from him. That was one of the strengths of their marriage. It made a man feel safe knowing that his wife was there for him, that she wasn't running around behind his back. But a social function? He had been dreading this moment, waiting for it, and now it was finally here. What was he going to do? She was nothing like these executive broads with their predatory smiles. Nor was she like the wrinkled leather bags the directors were married to. Between them they would eat her alive, and enjoy it, the bitches.

  But there was also the fact that he really didn't want anyone to talk to her about what he got up to on those executive weekends, and long evenings when he worked late and stopped over in the city. Of course, she probably knew what he was up to; she might not be socially geared, but she wasn't stupid. He had a reputation for being a lady's man when she married him, and she must have known that wouldn't change overnight. That was another of her strengths, that she accepted a man's needs without continually harping on about it. But there were rules, and one was that the wife was not regaled with details. He was going to have to stick to her like a glove to keep her out of the reach of the bitches, and behave himself all night to boot, which was a pain. But the damage was done, he thought grimly, and he would just have to live with it.

  On the day of the dinner Esther was as excited as a child. She knew these business meetings often involved social events, but so far she had never been invited to one, although it had always been on the cards. Now Kevin was finally rising within the
firm she was very happy for him, and even if she felt a bit insignificant beside those highly confident career women, she would do her utmost not to let him down. She had bought a new dress, assisted by Kevin, as she hadn't known what kind of thing to buy. And if she looked a bit on the dowdy side, she supposed that he was trying to make her dress the same as the other wives who were mostly older than her, and that was a very kind touch. Anyway, these dull browns were fashionable right now, the lady in the shop had assured her.

  Upon their arrival at the venue her excitement was dampened by the sight of the ranks of expensive cars outside the hotel, and the ostentatious glitter of jewellery within it. She realised instantly that Kevin hadn't realised it was to be such a formal event, or he would surely have persuaded her to buy something with a little more panache.

  'Esther, darling. So nice of you to join us.'

  Esther smiled nervously at the chairman's plump wife, Amanda, whose vast family jointly owned the majority of the company's shares. Then she endured a two-cheeked embrace before being left standing as Amanda, duty performed, swept past and homed in on one of her cronies.

  Kevin took a firm grip on Esther's arm and led her in. Her heart sank as she gradually realised there were three kinds of women present: the wives of businessmen who exuded all the confidence of ranking officers, the younger female executives who had nothing feminine about them whatsoever, and herself. She felt as dowdy and uninteresting as they believed she was, but inside she felt a quiver of resentment. Just once in her life she would like to show them all, and Kevin. Only she didn't know what she would like to show them. But something. If only she knew how.

  She would have been surprised to know that she was not as disliked as she supposed. Most of those who knew Kevin realised that though his wife was not what they would have expected of the most lecherous man in the company, perhaps it was just as well, as no one else would have put up with him. And they did admit she seemed to be very nice, classy almost, in a quiet sort of way, and perhaps she deserved better in a husband.

  Esther, though, not realising she engendered such sympathy in those present, felt her confidence shrink to the size of a peanut during the course of the evening.

  For Kevin, from a business point of view, the evening was undoubtedly a success, in spite of his having to stick to Esther like a limpet. He managed to sweet-talk the manager of FairBank into another business meeting, one he made sure was an overnighter in the city, and came away happily content to be mothered by Esther for the remainder of the weekend, which had already been ruined as far as assignations were concerned. He needed that now and again, just as relief from his high-flying life. In bed he responded as well as he could to her sexual overtures, but was nearly asleep when he slid away from her in the dark.

  Esther stayed awake a long time thinking about the evening in its awful entirety, but in particular about meeting one woman by the name of Chrissie. In spite of the smile, which had all the charm of a cobra about to strike, Esther knew the woman was vindictive for some reason and yet she had given Esther just what she needed. In her handbag - her own personal space where Kevin would never venture, through some misguided sense of ethics - lay an embossed card.

  She hugged this information to herself. Lessons in self-awareness and assertiveness were just what she needed, but she had finally realised what she wanted to do. She would like to surprise Kevin at the next business function, show him the kind of wife she really could be given the opportunity.

  Back in work, Kevin had another surprise. Personnel had taken on a new secretarial assistant by the name of Gloria. She was tall, rounded in all the right places, and had the most amazing shock of curly red hair he had ever seen. He desperately wanted to know whether she had another shock of curly red hair down below. His imagination pictured it in detail, but he really had a hankering to see for himself. The only problem was Gloria herself, who for some reason seemed to be standoffish. No matter how charming he made himself she responded politely, giving him no indication whatsoever that his charm was having its usual effect. He was sure that beneath the cold front she was as warm and wriggly a lay as he had ever enjoyed, and was probably playing hard to get. And if she was intelligent, which he thought she probably was, she would undoubtedly hold out for some kind of inducement, i.e. a raise. His teeth bared in an avaricious smile. If she was playing games, he was a past master at changing the rules. But then, he had plenty of time, and Michelle had recently, against his expectations, been making all the right signs. Each in its turn, he thought smugly.

  Chapter 2

  Even though she could have quoted the message verbatim, Esther stared at the card, feeling butterflies fluttering in her stomach. It had seemed such a logical move in the comfort of her own home, but here and now was a different matter. She turned it over. On the other side the embossed card detailed the name, Madam Tisset, a telephone number and the address, outside of which she was standing.

  Ladies

  Are you lacking in self-confidence?

  Are you fed-up with being a doormat for your partner?

  Come and learn the art of

  DOMINANCE

  with an expert

  She had consulted Jenny, a long-standing friend, about the card, including her misgivings about the manner in which it had been acquired, and also whether Kevin would really appreciate what she was doing. Jenny had pooh-poohed her misgivings, said even if Kevin didn't want it, it was about time she stood up to the male chauvinist dickhead she had married (she knew Esther well enough to be honest), and said even if he didn't approve, after the event it would be too late. And anyway, Esther needed to regain some of the self-confidence she used to have before Kevin relegated her to housewife. It was about bloody time. Then she had phoned up Madam Tisset and made the appointment for her.

  Esther realised dismally that Jenny was right. For some reason her few years of marriage to Kevin had not been all she'd expected. It had been very obvious, after the short but determined courtship, that the marriage was dull for him, too, otherwise why would he be running around with other women? She sighed. She couldn't even do this properly. Jenny had done the hard bit; the phoning. All she had to do was arrive, and even that she found difficult. She was sure she didn't use to be so spineless.

  She knew she was at the right place because there was a small bell, above which a sign proclaimed this to be the residence of Madam Tisset. Was that as in French or English, she wondered, and took a step back to look up. The building that surrounded the grim barrack-room door looked like a warehouse. It was constructed of blackened bricks, and had a vaguely sad, unused air about it. This was definitely not a good idea. She took another step back, suddenly filled with a burning desire to turn tail and run.

  'Stop.'

  She froze without realising she had indeed turned to go. The word had not been shouted, but was a command all the same. She turned slowly. The woman behind her was not so much big, as powerful. Featureless in the dusk, and disguised by a dark plastic raincoat tied tightly around her middle against the chill wind, she radiated authority. 'Oh, boy. You really are under the thumb, aren't you, dear?' Esther sensed amusement in the rich, husky drawl. 'You only have two choices, you know; to carry on being the good little wife for the rest of your life, or to take control of your life now. Only you can decide.'

  It was November, and the freezing cold was sapping whatever small amount of courage had been summed up to get her this far. Esther thought longingly of her warm safe living room with the co-ordinating decor and the easy-clean carpet Kevin had chosen. He wouldn't be there, though, he was at some conference or other, as he so often was these days. She felt instantly guilty for being pleased at the thought, but she had learned a while back that the word conference could cover a whole multitude of sins.

  The woman walked forward, opened the door and flicked a switch. Harsh yellow light spilled out from a bare bulb. Esther noticed that the woman was older than she sounded, had bright red lips, and wore exceedingly high heels. She
had been expecting some young, bouncy, health freak with a black belt in something nasty.

  'You made it this far, dearie. Go the rest of the way. You won't get a second chance.' Then the casual attitude dissipated. 'You have to choose... now.' Madam Tisset walked inside. She paused, waited with her head cocked to one side, then shrugged, and the door began to close.

  Esther stepped forward as though she had been shoved in the back. 'Wait! Please wait. I - I need to do this.'

  Madam Tisset stood back wordlessly to let her pass, and Esther could feel the uncomfortable pounding of her heart as the door closed behind her with a reverberating thud. It had a sort of finality about it. What had she let herself in for? She had now entered the forbidden zone - there was no turning back...

  The woman patted her shoulder in a motherly fashion and set off down the corridor. 'It's all right, dearie, don't you worry about anything. We'll take it all nice and easy. Now, you come on in and tell me about this man of yours.'

  'What has that to do with anything?'

  'Everything. Tell me if I'm wrong. You were fairly self-sufficient. Had a job. Enjoyed life. Went out - drinks, parties, the like. Then this good-looking hunk of a man came along, swept you off your feet, gave you a romantic wedding, and suddenly there you were, his wife, the honeymoon period over. He liked his sex three times a week, a roast on Sunday and his slippers by the fire. Before you knew it you became his ideal wife. You don't have to go to work, you don't go out unless he takes you, and the biggest indignity of all is that you have to ask him for money.'