by Primula Bond
The others all roared with ribald laughter. I choked as the brandy went down the wrong way.
I was also blushing. I fiddled with the CD player on the table beside me, and some soft piano music filled the room.
‘You thought those strippers were hot, didn’t you?’ The blond one topped up my glass. ‘You thought the camera was hiding you, but I could see it in your face. You wanted a piece of that action.’
‘They were gorgeous, sure, high-class, but that’s what you guys pay for at the Club Crème.’ I shifted on my chair. ‘I just had a job to do.’
‘Anyone with eyes and a pulse would fancy those girls,’ the blond man said. ‘They were worth every penny. Pity they had another gig to go to. I reckon we should fetch them back here.’
‘I have a great set of photographs to keep you going, though,’ I reminded them. ‘Bet I could turn you on every bit as well as they can.’
I couldn’t believe I’d just said that.
They were all staring at me. Tall, well-built men. Still masked, but Gustav had told me you had to be good-looking to get into this club, and he wasn’t joking. The blond man closest to me was unsettling me. Everything was unsettling me. It was the middle of the day, yet we were underground and the room was in semi-darkness. There was barely any light in any area of the club. Another club rule. But this guy was starting to look familiar.
‘Your photographs, or you?’ The groom had a boyish laugh. ‘Oh, I have no doubt you could make us hard all over again. As you say, only top-quality pussy is permitted through these portals.’
I thought I could hear Gustav’s voice speaking somewhere along the corridor. He’d be back in a moment. I needed him here. Now. The alcohol was turning my brain to couscous. It felt too damn good, these gorgeous young men preening themselves like the principals in an Oscar Wilde play. Lust scrawled all over their masculine features.
I responded in the best way I know. By raising my camera. They all started clowning around again, arranging themselves into dissolute Byronic poses around the central figure of the groom, all arrogant profiles and languid limbs, half lit by the dying fire. And when they flung their dinner jackets back to put their hands on their hips I could see the hard outlines pushing inside their black suit trousers.
I put down the camera. My head swam as the brandy warmed my veins and the men grew silent. Their eyes glittered through the plain black Batman-style masks.
I walked unsteadily back to the fireplace, pushed in between the two guys who had resumed their positions there, and stared at myself in the gilt mirror. My hair was still pinned up, just, but my cheeks were flushed, my heavily mascara’d eyes huge and wild, and my lips were smudged and parted as if I was out of breath. I was the only one unmasked.
‘Come on. Admit you fancied a little bit of girl-on-girl action yourself? Just hearing you say it would make me hard.’ The blond man glanced at me sideways, and through my tipsiness his deep American drawl nagged at me. ‘This club is all about hedonism, after all.’
‘God, man, you’re like a dog with a bone!’ The groom wagged his finger. ‘Can’t you see how uncomfortable she’s getting?’
‘I am a little tired, boys,’ I murmured, clutching at the mantelpiece as the room shifted in the mirror behind me. ‘And I have another meeting tonight.’
‘Lucky client, whoever he is. Hey. You’re free to leave, whenever you like,’ one of the Robinsons remarked.
‘Except you have a bone that needs relieving, Robinson,’ the blond one chuckled, running his hand over his own crotch. ‘We all do.’
The room went quiet. They were well-bred men prepared to act like a pack of dogs at a given signal but, as with any dog, that signal would have to come from me. Two of them were standing possessively on either side of me. I was so hyped up now that even the slightly rough fabric of their black dinner jackets rubbing on my bare arms aroused me. Or maybe it was the visual proof that they were all hard. I felt sexy and naughty, and drunk.
Hurry up, Gustav, before I do something stupid.
As I stood there with my mouth still open, the blond one suddenly took my head in his hands and pressed his lips on my mouth. I could feel how smooth and boyish his skin was compared to the rough bristles on Gustav’s chin. As his mouth opened to push in his tongue I pulled away.
‘You frigid or something?’
That was the word my oafish ex from Devon, Jake, had used to taunt me when I finished with him. Something red and raw flared up inside me. I lifted my chin. ‘You couldn’t be more wrong. Just ask Mr Levi.’
‘We would if he was in here, but the poor fool thinks it’s safe to leave you alone with us. So, if you’re not frigid, show us what you can do in front of the camera.’
‘You bastard,’ breathed the groom, watching us. ‘You know I had my eye on her.’
I kept my eyes on my own reflection. If only he knew what his future bride Emilia was really like. I smiled at myself in the mirror, a very wide, wet smile, and fanned out my fingers to cup my breasts over the luxurious red velvet. I felt the bounce of my heartbeat as I started to squeeze.
The men’s tongues were running across their mouths. The two spokesmen moved away from the fire, went to sit on two armchairs.
‘That’s the idea,’ one of them growled. ‘We knew you were a dirty little ho!’
I hesitated, looking down at the flushed faces reflected behind me, the bulges in their trousers, and here it came, the coiling naughtiness between my legs.
I started to push the red dress off my shoulder, relishing the embrace of its soft rich fabric upon my pale skin. I pulled it down to the matching red bra, aware that my heavy breathing was making my breasts swell out of the red lace.
The men were obviously excited now. It occurred to me that they could have any woman they wanted. A phone could be picked up and a high-class hooker could be here within minutes, but Serena Folkes wasn’t one of those. She was just a respectable girl like their sister, or girlfriend, or wife.
Except the sisters, wives and girlfriends were tucked away at home.
I unfastened the one hook that held the dress together, cocking my leg so that the dress fell open. Then I wriggled a little, freed my breasts from the lacy cups. They fell heavily forward. I unclipped the bra and flung it across the room as the red dress slithered right down to the thick carpet.
The stags were openly massaging their crotches now.
My breasts were jutting forward, wobbling with my rapid heartbeat, bare and full and swollen with excitement.
I started to stroke and knead, gently at first, then more firmly. My hands were all that covered them. The men swore crudely, bodies rigid with expectation. I could make them fight over me. I didn’t care which one of them had me first. All I wanted was something big and hard very, very soon.
‘Do you think she’ll let us?’ the groom whined. He sounded as if he was far away, and his voice had descended several octaves. ‘Do you think that sergeant-major she brought with her will mind?’
The others guffawed. I had started something I couldn’t possibly wriggle out of now. Where was Gustav, for goodness’ sake? And what would he say when he came back? I flicked at my nipples, moaning out loud at the sudden quick burn.
‘God, I’d heard that you were not only talented but sensational-looking, too. That amazing hair. That skin! So fuckable! So not a vestal virgin!’ The blond man ran his fingers through his curls, now tight with sweat. Of course. The words ‘vestal virgin’ were a deliberate jarring reference to the last time we met. He knew exactly who I was. And I knew exactly who he was, too, but it was too late to back out and certainly too late to give in to the shock. All I could do was pretend that I had no idea who he was. That he was faceless, like everyone in this room.
The others were muttering to each other now. ‘I’m going to explode if I don’t do something with this boner!’
A surge of panic mingled with excitement pounded through me as the men nudged each other. Piano music wound around the room from t
he CD player as I swayed and caressed my breasts more seductively, and then as the blond guy surreptitiously unzipped his flies I saw the door opening.
Gustav’s black eyes caught mine through the fire-flickered gloom. He paused and sussed the situation. My hands stopped. The guys pressed their crotches.
And then Gustav gave one quick nod.
I turned slowly from the mirror. I needed to face him while I did this. The men were perfectly aware of the new voyeur, but they were too far gone to pay attention. They were expecting me to behave like a stripper, and that’s what I was going to do. I was going to be someone else, just for tonight.
I walked across to the middle of the small room, bent my knee and kicked off my knickers. I had bare legs and a shiny new Brazilian.
A low, guttural stream of obscenities flowed from everyone, but it was the blond guy who leaned forward, took me by the hips and pulled me towards him. My crotch was in his face now. His hands stroked up the back of my legs. I pushed and felt his breath blow across the bare skin. I started to sway my hips, desire pulsating through me, but I kept my eyes on Gustav.
The blond guy grasped my buttocks, pulling me right to his mouth. Gustav leaned against the bookcase full of leather-bound books, his features etched in stone.
The blond man’s tongue touched me. My knees started to buckle as I tipped myself against his face. Ripples of pleasure matched the flicking of his tongue. Then I moaned and pulled away.
I was bottling it. I couldn’t let him lick me with Gustav watching. But I couldn’t stop the mounting excitement either. So I played it up, wagged my finger – ‘no, no, no’ – then swiped that same finger where the blond man’s tongue had been, and danced for my boys instead.
Gustav’s mouth was partly open, his teeth clenched. I knew what that meant. He was disturbed, but that very disturbance was turning him on. I’d danced for him just like this once, the first time I ever went to his house.
‘Just watch me. I’ll be as good as any tart,’ I crooned from my trance, running my hands up the inside of my thighs to open them a little more, and then I started to pleasure myself. The men’s eyes glazed as I worked with my fingers, swayed my naked body, showed them glimpses of what I was doing, and then just as they started to fall back in their seats, their hands working furiously on themselves, someone else pushed into the crowded room.
Gustav glanced sideways, and we both recognised the newcomer at the same time
Mr Weinmeyer looked me up and down and grinned like the Cheshire Cat, and as he raised and drained his full glass of tawny port I made myself come.
There was a stifling silence, punctuated only by the zipping up of flies. The younger men shuffled about and tried to rearrange themselves into some kind of order as I turned my back and walked calmly towards the fireplace to study myself, and them, in the mirror. Any of them who hadn’t come just then would just have to wait until they were alone.
‘What a stunner. She’s come a long way in just a few short weeks.’ Mr Weinmeyer gave a long low whistle as if summoning a sheepdog, and clapped his hand on Gustav’s shoulder. ‘Shame Ingrid and I couldn’t have got there first. You’re even more of a man than I thought you were, Levi.’
Gustav’s eyes bore into me through the mirror’s glass. I returned his gaze, shaking now as the reality of what I’d just done sank in. I raised my arms and pinned one or two loose tendrils of hair.
‘I can’t lock her away, much as I’d like to. She’s so young, and she needs to learn. I’m enjoying watching her, and I’m discovering it’s the best way to keep her happy. Even if she runs away I know she’ll come back to me. She always comes back.’
I smiled at him in the mirror, and to my relief he returned my smile.
‘You struck gold when you found this one, Levi. And don’t forget the rule that what happens at Club Crème stays at Club Crème.’ Mr Weinmeyer chinked his glass against Gustav’s. ‘Actually, Mr Levi, Miss Serena, I’m glad I’ve caught you both, especially at such a dazzling moment. Let me just feast my eyes for a moment longer before I go over this new commission Ingrid and I have for you.’
I realised how pissed I was now, and turned carefully towards the two older men. Gustav picked up the discarded dress, came over to me, eased it on over my arms and shoulders and hooked it gently back into place. The golden locket had somehow slipped back out of sight, and he pressed it back into place before kissing me on the lips. The younger men had retreated to the corner of the room, where they were drinking and muttering and texting on their mobiles.
‘What do you have in mind, Ernst?’
‘My wife and I would like Serena to come to Venice. We have some business there, and we also have a whole lot of pleasure planned for all concerned.’ Mr Weinmeyer’s laugh was deep, booming and self-assured. ‘I promise we’ll send her safely home, Levi. Just like a pigeon.’
My legs won’t hold me up any more. The scene of my striptease at the Club Crème fades into my tired, pissed mind now that Gustav has brought me home. But there’s one detail I can’t avoid. The blond guy who nearly got a taste of me back there is Toga Tomas. He was at Pierre’s Halloween party in London. He asked me to give him a blowjob and I refused. He’s the one Pierre and Polly keep teasing me about.
I slide along the wall towards the wide arched corridor and into our bedroom, collapse onto the bed face down.
Gustav sits beside me, winds the silver chain round my wrists and very carefully ties the end of it to the curved pole of the bedhead.
‘Maybe I still need a little time.’ He tests the silver chain unnecessarily. ‘Maybe I’m not as cool as I thought with this setting-free idea. Maybe I think your head will puff up with all this success, and you’ll fly away. Like Weinmeyer’s pigeon,’ he murmurs, stroking my hair back from my hot face. ‘Hey, don’t go to sleep, signorina. We’re meeting Pierre tonight, when he’s finished at the theatre.
‘That’s not till nearly midnight. Can’t I just have a little nap?’ I moan and shake my head. ‘Pierre Levi is the last person on earth I want to see!’
‘You don’t expect me to cancel our rendezvous, do you? Every time I see him we become closer to one another again – back to the good old days when nothing could break the Levi brothers apart. I’d forgotten how much I really missed him. There are already moments when it feels like the weekends when we used to drive out of London on our motorbikes. We had these helmet-mikes so we could talk as we drove. Sometimes we’d be on the motorway, heading to Brighton maybe, and we’d just decide on the spur of the moment to go to France or Holland, and divert to Dover!’ Gustav stops stroking my hair and laughs softly. ‘No women ordering us about then! But tonight he wants to see you, too.’
‘And what Pierre wants, Pierre gets. Prince Pierre.’
‘You are an essential part of this process, Serena. You kept your head when all around were losing theirs on New Year’s Eve. This reconciliation would have fallen apart without you.’ Gustav’s hands pause on my hair. He starts to tug at it so that I have to lift my head. ‘I have another way to wake you up. My punishment. You came close to having someone else inside you today, but since I can’t let that happen for the moment, I’m going to introduce you to an acceptable alternative.’
‘You may as well be speaking Greek, Gustav. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. And I don’t want to go out tonight.’
‘Tough. Because after you have taken what’s coming to you, you will freshen up, look beautiful again and attend this rendezvous. Partly because it concerns you. Mostly because I want you by my side.’
I turn my face sideways. I can see two people sitting there, sliding apart and merging. In my drunkenness I think it’s Pierre on the bed, stroking my hair, now bending down and fiddling with something on the floor. It’s Pierre’s black eyes glaring at me from beneath glowering brows, so like Gustav’s, the sweep of the forehead, the creases beside the eyes when they smile. Instead of Gustav’s glossy hair falling over his eyes, though, I think I can see Pierre
’s stiff black hair standing up in spikes, his thick neck with that snaky scar bulging over his collar. His mouth tilting into a smile that I can’t decipher. The blue vein in his temple going.
He looks so like Gustav. And he respects me. Polly said so. Which feels good, coming from someone as contrary and difficult as him. It’s flattering. It’s making me feel things I shouldn’t. Making me see Pierre when he isn’t here. I’m just pissed. But Polly said I’m the only one he’ll listen to. She asked me to help her get him back. I need to speak to him.
‘Pierre,’ I murmur.
‘That’s right. We’re seeing him at the Library Bar tonight.’
I squeeze my eyes shut, twist away and bury my head under the pillow.
Gustav shakes me, and the chill of sobriety nags me, because what my lover has produced from under the bed is a big, thick leather phallus, exaggerated in size but exact in anatomical detail, and curved slightly like a scimitar. This is a weapon, not a toy. He holds it up in the air between us like some kind of talisman, turns it so we can see it from every angle, then brings out a tiny jar of amber liquid.
‘What are you doing?’ I croak. I strain against the silver chain. ‘That looks like honey.’
‘Lubrication,’ Gustav mutters in a deep, guttural voice, dipping his fingers into the pot and running the honey over the leather. ‘To anoint my little sinner.’
I whimper and wriggle as he runs the tip of the now dripping dildo under my nose, pushes it across my upper lip, between my teeth so that I’m forced to suck it like a lollipop, then he hitches up my velvet dress and draws the thing slowly and deliberately up and down my spine, over my bottom, painting me with a languid trail of amber that is already turning from warm liquid to prickling stickiness as it dries on my skin.
‘Don’t resist, Serena. I saw your eyes watering with desire when those strippers played with their dildos in the club earlier. So I asked them if I could have one for my girl to take home. I actually wanted one of the white ones they’d used, but they said this one was brand new and we could have it as a gift.’ He laughs so boyishly just then that it infects me, too. ‘They were all for coming home with us to demonstrate how best to use it, but I said no, I wanted you to myself. But I took their number. For future reference!’