The Eyes of the Huntress
A Shil the Huntress Novel
By Niall Teasdale
Copyright 2018 Niall Teasdale
Amazon Kindle Edition
Contents
Part One: Sheila
Part Two: Shil
Part Three: The Huntress
Part Four: Power Corrupts
Part Five: Bad Breath
Part Six: Home Is Where the Heart Is
Epilogue
Part One: Sheila
There were those who believed that monogamy was an unnatural condition. I did not subscribe to that viewpoint. Unfortunately, my husband did.
– The Memoirs of Shil the Huntress.
London, England, Earth, 20th June 2015.
The party had not been her idea. The dress had definitely not been her idea, even if she had to admit she looked good in it. For a given definition of ‘good’ anyway. Under the circumstances, it seemed that her husband’s definition was ‘available.’ Given that this was what Brian had described as an ‘alternative lifestyle’ party, and Sheila had concluded was a swinger sex party, the short red dress with its exorbitant cleavage display and the four-inch stiletto-heeled sandals were a good choice. But Sheila wanted to find a box to hide in.
Marriage to Brian had had its ups and downs, if she were being honest. They had met at university. She had been starting out in political science and he was in his second year of economics. They had dated, fallen in love, and got married after she graduated, by which time his dreams of becoming the economic advisor to the Prime Minister had shifted to more practical goals: he had become an accountant. It was not exciting, but it paid the bills, and Sheila loved him and so even when she saw the lies, she ignored them.
Cradling her glass in front of her breasts, Sheila did her best to look like she was not there as she drifted through the rooms of the house the party was in. She thought the place might be Georgian, a large townhouse with four floors and a lot of rooms. It was owned by one of the senior partners at Brian’s firm, Mister Belknap. Apparently, the man – into his late fifties and expanding around the middle – enjoyed a good orgiastic get-together, though Sheila was at least sixty percent sure that he did it to indulge his wife, who was twenty years younger and seemingly a little keener on greeting the guests. Brian had assured Sheila that being invited to this do was a step, a big step, on the ladder to junior partnership and that was ostensibly why they were there. At least the house was nice.
There was a couple kissing in the hallway which ran the length of the ground floor. He was in a smart jacket and sharply creased trousers, and she was naked from the waist up and pressed against the wall. She had to be at least five years younger than he was, probably more. Sheila pushed the image of Mrs Belknap leading Brian out of the lounge with a beaming smile on her face out of her mind and slid past mumbling an ‘Excuse me.’ Somewhere there was a kitchen she could hide in.
Brian had been hoping that Mister Belknap would want Sheila. Sheila was quite sure that his tastes ran to younger fare. At forty-two, Sheila considered herself neither old, nor unattractive. The topless blonde in the hall might have the advantage in pert, but Sheila’s boobs were bigger and they did not sag nearly as much as they should thanks to a strict regimen of bra-wearing from the age of thirteen when it had become obvious that she was going to inherit her mother’s figure. That, thankfully, was a good thing, even better now that you could buy a bra in her size that did not appear to have been manufactured in a shipyard. Well, a few. And not all of them were sports bras. Anyway, it was not like this dress allowed for the wearing of a bra. Sheila grimaced a little as she walked into the kitchen.
Also thankfully, she had inherited her height and a lot of facial structure from her father who had been six-foot-two and kind of long-featured. Sheila had capped out at five-nine, nine and a half on a good day, but that made her rather voluptuous figure look better, even if her height tended to intimidate men; Brian was two inches shorter than she was, but back then he had really been into taller women, especially with long legs. And the longer nose and narrower face worked better than her mother’s little button set into a round face. On the other hand, Alice Napier had become a delightful, kind-looking old woman and her daughter expected to follow more of a ‘crone’ archetype. Swings and roundabouts. Everyone said that she had got her eyes from her paternal grandmother. They were a really gorgeous blue, and she considered them her best features, while her hair was not so great. There was nothing really wrong with it, but she had given up dyeing it blonde when it had become obvious Brian did not really care, and the basic brown with a hint of auburn did not really do much for her.
Finding a bottle of wine, she refilled her glass and turned, wondering whether it would be polite to just wait out the whole thing here…
‘A face I don’t recognise.’ He filled the doorway. He had to be well over six feet with a strong body not really concealed by his suit. His skin was tanned and the casual buttoning of his shirt showed that off a good way down his chest. He had jet-black, shoulder-length hair and dark eyes. Sheila decided that they were dark, smouldering eyes. ‘Smouldering’ definitely fitted him. God was he good-looking. Even if she was sure he could see it, and she was mortified at the thought, her nipples decided this was a good time to stiffen against the thin fabric of her dress. ‘You must be new at Belknap’s little get-togethers.’
‘Uh, yes.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Sheila.’
He took her hand and then, much to her amazement, raised it, bending forward and placing a delicate kiss on her fingers. ‘Tony,’ he said, his eyes still on hers. Something electric danced along her skin from her fingers to her nipples, and then dropped down to settle between her legs. She was fairly sure that no one had looked at her like that since she had first gone to bed with Brian.
‘I-it’s nice to meet you, Tony.’ How was it that this guy was not already upstairs entertaining at least one nubile young woman?
‘Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.’ He had a rich voice too, kind of dark and deep, and with an accent she could not place, which made it sound exotic. Sheila decided that ‘sultry’ was not an inaccurate description. Of course, when she was not stammering, she had quite a nice voice too, but…
‘Uh, you work at the firm?’ Brian had certainly never mentioned anyone who looked like him.
‘A client. Belknap handles my accounts. I deal in commodities. Boring, I’m afraid. What about you? A model, perhaps?’
Some little bit of Sheila’s mind decided to point out that he was ladling it on with a spoon and she was lapping it up like a teenager, and it was embarrassing. She decided that that part of her mind needed to take a holiday. ‘Oh God no. Housewife. Also boring, and it doesn’t even pay well.’
‘Money isn’t everything. Once upon a time I thought it was, and then I got it and discovered that you can’t buy the things that matter. Well, you can, but then they aren’t worth what you pay for them.’
He was rich too. As if the huge gold watch on his wrist was not a big enough giveaway. ‘I’ve always thought so.’
‘You are not, I think, enjoying yourself here.’
‘What? No, of course I’m… Well, it’s not really my kind–’
‘Of course it is not. A beautiful woman does not need such gatherings.’
He thought she was beautiful? Well of course he would say that, her inner voice pointed out – he’s trying to get into your knickers. ‘I’m not wearing any,’ she told her inner voice defiantly, ‘and if I was, he could get in them any time he likes.’
And almost as if he had heard her thoughts, Tony leane
d forward and spoke in an almost conspiratorial voice. ‘Let me take you somewhere where we can have more fun.’
If she left, Brian would worry… Except, said another inner voice, the one which rarely came out having been beaten into submission for years, that Brian is banging the lady Belknap upstairs and probably won’t know you’ve gone until it’s time to leave.
Sheila put her glass down on the counter. ‘All right.’
~~~
Tony had a flat in Mayfair, but they did not go there straight away. He took her to a club in Soho and they danced, drank, and talked. He danced close, his hands hot against her skin. Even in her heels she was only just his height and, compared to her husband, dancing with him was a delight.
His business, it seemed, was largely to do with minerals. He traded in precious metals and certain other kinds which she had only vaguely heard of. He spoke of germanium and gallium and selenium, and Sheila nodded and smiled, and he grinned and told her that he had said it was boring.
And then he had suggested that they do something ‘naughty’ and she had expected to go to his flat, but instead he took her to a strip club where they drank more and watched girls undressing and swinging around a pole while his hand slid over her bare back, sending tingles through her skin.
‘I can do that,’ she had said. ‘I go to a class every Thursday. It’s very good for fitness.’
‘You keep yourself fit, I can see it.’
‘Well, I think it’s important to keep your health, and… and flexibility.’
He watched the dancer for a second. ‘I think that you must be very flexible to do that.’
Sheila giggled. ‘I’ve never had any complaints.’ Of course, Brian had not complimented her in a long time either…
And then Tony had said, ‘Sheila, will you allow me to take you back to my home? I must end this exquisite torture and see how flexible you are.’
Which was why, at almost two in the morning, Sheila was on her back on Tony’s bed with her knees pulled up to her shoulders, looking into Tony’s eyes as he drove into her. It was getting hard to keep looking. He had started out slow because he was, she was pleased to say, a good deal bigger than her husband in all respects. She had never felt so full. Now he was losing control and really going for it and Sheila’s vision was narrowing as the intense pressure in her lower body reached critical point, and then…
‘Oh… God!’ She saw stars, galaxies of them. Her body bucked as she clung to her stretched legs and hoped this would never stop. But it did and she waited for him to pull out and turn away…
‘You enjoyed that, sweet Sheila?’
‘It was… yes.’
‘I am pleased. Give me a few moments. Once I could have gone again far quicker, but my body ages, as do all things.’
‘Again?’ It was almost a whisper.
‘Of course. I have not finished with this exquisite body of yours yet.’
Sheila let out a tiny whimper. ‘Oh… God, yes…’
21st June.
‘Where did you get to?’ Brian asked as he walked into the kitchen.
Sheila gave him a smile as she cooked eggs on the hob. He looked like he had had plenty of sleep. ‘I met one of your clients. Well, not one of yours, exactly. Mister Belknap does his accounts.’
Brian frowned, but he had still not noticed that she was wearing her apron over the same dress she had been in the night before. ‘Which one?’
‘Uh… Tony. I didn’t ask his last name. I don’t think it’s done at… that kind of party. Tall, very tall, black hair.’ Brian was still not recognising the description. ‘He wears a huge gold watch–’
‘Anthony Donavan!’ The frown deepened. Sheila wondered whether he was finally going to figure out that she had been out all night with a man who made him look like a vagrant and actually get annoyed, but… ‘That’s… good. That could be very good. He’s a big client. Lots of foreign transactions. Lots of detail in the accounts. I hope he had a good time.’
‘I think he did,’ Sheila replied, and then added, ‘So did I,’ under her breath.
25th June.
‘You were looking really good on the pole tonight,’ Lindsey said as they sat at the side of the class on a break. ‘You were looking… more confident. Brian finally doing it for you?’
‘Lindsey!’ Sheila squeaked, bursting into giggles.
‘What? You started doing this to spice things up and all you got was toned muscles.’
Sheila shook her head. Lindsey had been her friend since Brian had started with the firm. She was the wife of one of the junior partners and Brian had encouraged the friendship, thinking it would further his career. It had not; Lindsey and her husband Marcus were far brighter than that, but Lindsey had remained her friend, maybe the best one she had ever had. But Lindsey loved gossip, especially salacious gossip.
‘I did… get some exercise,’ Sheila said, ‘but it wasn’t with Brian.’
‘Oh, Sheila, you finally got a brain.’ Lindsey was a couple of inches shorter than her friend and, if Sheila were to be entirely too objective, not quite as attractive. She was pretty and blonde, her hair falling straight to her shoulders. Her blue eyes were greener than Sheila’s and her face a little rounder. She had a distinctly perky nose. She kept herself fit, and she liked to point out that her B-cup breasts were much more practical than Sheila’s, especially on a pole. She had a distinctly more open mind about sex than Sheila did too; Sheila had learned to open up a little more around her, but usually had little to open up about.
‘No, I got a cock, and it was a really good one.’
‘Really good?’
‘Long and thick… And the stamina on this guy! We were at it until dawn.’
There was giggling and then Lindsey said, ‘You met him at that dumb party Brian made you go to?’
‘Uh-huh. One of the firm’s clients.’
‘You seeing him again?’
‘Oh, I… I doubt it. I mean, you should have seen this guy, Linds. He was like some sort of film star or something. Maybe I was good for a one-night stand, but he could have any woman he wants. I don’t think he’ll come looking for me.’
26th June.
Friday night and nothing to do but watch TV. Brian had called at ten past five and told Sheila he would be working late. Her inner bitch had suggested screaming down the phone that he should come home for his dinner and screw the blonde in secretarial some other night… But she had just said ‘okay’ and dumped the ingredients she had been working on for the last hour in the bin.
When the phone rang again, she had a vague hope that it was Brian and that he was coming home, and maybe they could go out to a restaurant. The voice on the other end of the line was not Brian’s.
‘Tell me, sweet Sheila, have you eaten yet?’ Tony asked without preamble.
‘Tony? How did you–’
‘Get your number? I asked around, found your name, and you are in the phone book. And when I was leaving Trent, Belknap, and Foster earlier, I noticed that your husband was… working on something. So, Sheila McDermott, would you like to have dinner with me?’
‘Uh…’ Her inner housewife chose that point to pipe up about how inappropriate it would be, but it was cut off sharply as her inner bitch grabbed it by the throat and squeezed. ‘I’d love to.’
‘Good. Wear that same dress. You look… edible in red.’
‘I’m going to hold you to that.’
~~~
‘D-didn’t you get… get enough… to eat… Oh God! Enough to eat earlier.’
Tony lifted his head from between Sheila’s legs and looked up at her. It was a small respite, but it made her realise how much her body wanted him to continue. ‘Ah, sweet Sheila, that was beef, a dark meat. I cannot get enough of this light.’ His face dropped again.
‘Oh… It’s eat all you want…’
27th June.
‘All-nighter… again?’ Lindsey sounded a little jealous over the phone. Jealous, maybe, but also really happy.
<
br /> ‘Uh-huh. So if anyone asks, I went out with you, we got drunk, and I stayed over.’
‘Sure, but you know Pat wouldn’t even bother passing on the message. And you wore that hooker dress Brian made you buy? To a restaurant?’
‘Yes. It was a little embarrassing at first, but… The way he looked at me. Like he wanted to strip me and take me on the table. I felt like some sort of sex goddess by the time we were leaving. He had his hand up my skirt in the taxi! He’s got this big, four-poster bed and I let him tie me to the rail… It was… Wow.’
‘Sheila McDermott, you are becoming such a bad girl! I like it.’
29th June.
‘I know it’s short notice,’ Brian said, his mouth half-full of pasta and cream sauce, ‘but they need me up there for the conference.’
‘At the weekend?’ Sheila said.
Brian shrugged. ‘Ours is not to question why, etcetera. I’ll be leaving Friday from the office and coming back Monday.’
‘Oh, right.’ Sheila’s inner bitch wanted her to ask whether the blonde from the secretarial pool was going and, for once, Sheila decided to go with it. ‘You’re going alone?’
‘Yes. No… Uh, I think they’re sending someone from secretarial up to take minutes. They said the last time I did it, it took a team of cryptographers a month to decipher it.’ He gave her a grin. There was parsley on his teeth. ‘You’ll be okay on your own?’
Sheila smiled back. ‘I’m sure I can think of something to occupy myself.’
3rd July.
It had called for a new dress and Sheila had gone shopping in the most disreputable places she could think of for it. She knew it had to be red. Tony thought she looked ‘edible’ in red – and had proved it too – but there was also the fact that her best heels were the red ones she had worn with the other dress.
What she had selected was a tight, tank minidress with a slash from the right shoulder to just under her left breast and another slash, well more of a big hole, really, from the left side of her ribcage down over her right hip. The first made it clear she was not wearing a bra. The second, which showed her navel and half her right buttock, made it very clear she was not wearing anything else under it. She had wanted it quite clear to Tony that she wanted him, and she was ready and willing.
The Eyes of the Huntress (Shil the Huntress Book 1) Page 1