Midnight Girls

by Lulu Taylor

  ‘Nice cutting,’ he said admiringly.

  ‘Thanks,’ Robin said, ‘I’m getting my eye in now.’ He poured the champagne into the waiting glasses.

  Imogen laughed. ‘Isn’t that rather a dangerous way of getting bottles open?’

  ‘Tonight is dangerous,’ Gawain said, handing a foaming glass to her. His eyes glittered. ‘And drama is everything.’ He took a sip from his own glass, then ran his gaze appreciatively over her low-cut dress and high heels. ‘You look very sexy, my dear, but somehow a little too pure to be Xander’s usual type.’

  She took a sip of champagne, enjoying the sensation of the bubbles fizzing on her tongue and the dry, biscuity taste. Perhaps I’m going to be naughty tonight. Perhaps I’m going to get very drunk and stoned and do outrageous things … ‘We’re old friends.’

  Gawain raised his eyebrows and smirked. ‘You must be a very understanding old friend.’ Then a lecherous expression crossed his face. ‘And I hope you’ll be a good friend of mine before the night is out.’

  Imogen raised her eyebrows flirtatiously and said, ‘We’ll see, Gawain, we’ll see.’

  ‘What are you saying, Gawain, you old fraud?’ Xander said, coming up to them. ‘Have you got that drink for me?’

  Imogen gazed at him fondly. He looked unutterably beautiful in evening dress, his dark blond hair spiky and his cheekbones even sharper than they used to be. They shared a conspiratorial smile as Gawain filled another glass and handed it to Xander. Just then Piers came into the library carrying a large bowl of black powder.

  ‘Ah!’ cried Gawain, his face lighting up. ‘Treats!’

  ‘I thought tonight we could rechristen this “gunpowder”,’ Piers declared loudly as the assembled crowd buzzed with appreciation at the sight. ‘Don’t ask me how I managed to make it black – I’ll just admit that it was bloody difficult. But … a theme is a theme.’ He sat down on the sofa and pulled a small card table towards him with a grey marble slab set ready on its top. Then he spooned out some powder and began preparing it to hand round to his guests.

  Black cocaine, Imogen thought. It seems even more decadent than the usual white stuff. It certainly looks more sinister.

  Piers handed the slab to the girls next to him, who took some proffered cut-off black straws and inhaled the lines eagerly.

  ‘Us next,’ murmured Xander into her ear. Gawain had wandered off and was chatting happily to a redheaded girl by the window.

  When the slab came to Imogen, she took a straw and snorted up her line along with all the others. What the hell? she thought recklessly. I’m a grown up. Why shouldn’t I have some fun too? A few moments after taking it, she felt the pleasurable rush. She knew she would never do this in her ordinary life – the life of a respectable trainee lawyer who might party at weekends but who didn’t mess with Class-A substances. But there was something about being with Xander that made her live in the moment, heedless of the consequences. She felt capable of anything and ready for excitement and risk. Picking up her glass of champagne, she took a large swig.

  ‘Would you like to see the orangery?’ Xander whispered in her ear.

  ‘Yes, please,’ she said, hungry to spend some time alone with him, and followed him as he wandered out of the French windows and down on to a soft green lawn. Behind the house, the lawn stretched away, sloping gently down to a wood at the bottom.

  ‘You mustn’t mind Gawain,’ Xander said, as they walked towards a long honey-coloured stone building with arched windows that stretched from just above the ground almost as high as the roof along its whole length. ‘He gets a little carried away.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘But he’s harmless, really. Just tell him to piss off.’

  They walked into the orangery which was warm from the trapped heat and the micro-climate created by a lavish assembly of trees, bushes and shrubs in all kinds of pots, from tiny to gigantic, scattered about seemingly at random. It was very quiet inside. They wandered over to a wrought-iron bench and sat down together, clutching their champagne glasses.

  ‘It feels like this is gearing up to be quite a party,’ Imogen remarked. ‘That’s a lot of booze and drugs waiting for us all in there.’

  Xander nodded. ‘I’m holding back for a while. Don’t want to get too out of it, too soon. Besides, I’m starving and I know Piers has arranged a dinner. If I get stoned now, I’ll lose my appetite for a while and that’s no good. My bloody doctor says I’m too thin.’

  ‘Your doctor?’ Imogen asked with concern. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ He took another sip of his drink.

  ‘Do you party like this a lot?’ she asked gently. The iron bench felt cold under her thin dress. The dense aroma of tropical plants in a confined warm space filled the air. It was almost stifling.

  ‘There’s no denying it, Midge, I party like this all the time. It’s pretty much all I do with my life.’ He grinned, half apologetically. ‘Doesn’t everyone want to live like this, if they can? All my rich friends could do anything with their lives, and you know what they want to do? This.’ He shrugged. ‘So I guess I must have the perfect life.’

  There was a pause and then she said in a small voice, ‘But where will it all lead to? Where will it end?’

  ‘Well, there’s the rub. It’s self-perpetuating. Just goes on and on until, I guess, even partying starts to be boring. That’s when I’ll find something more serious to do. Maybe I’ll get married then and do the family thing. I’d like a load of kids someday – I like kids.’

  ‘But … don’t you ever feel like you’re wasting your life?’ she enquired tentatively. She didn’t want him to think she was criticising him.

  He laughed and fixed her with a gaze that was both tender and amused. ‘Of course I am! That’s partly the point. It feels so ridiculously luxurious to waste a life. It’s the ultimate way to show how free you are: just letting the years dissolve away in the pursuit of pleasure.’

  Imogen put her hand on his arm and said earnestly, ‘You could do so much more. You’re not like these other guys. You’ve got talent, you’re clever and funny …’

  ‘And I’m not really all that rich, so I’d better get myself sorted out, right?’ Xander smiled. ‘You’ve always wanted to look after me, haven’t you? I can feel your desperation for me to get myself straight – it’s reaching out to me.’

  ‘It’s not that I disapprove …’ she began quickly, but he interrupted.

  ‘I know.’ His expression changed. He stared down at his glass, frowning and nervously toying with the base. ‘Actually … you’re right. I do want to change. I have had enough.’ He stared straight up at her, his eyes serious. ‘The drink and drugs and wasted sex … they’re tiring me out. I want to feel good again. It’s so long since I’ve felt really good, you know? Happy and healthy and raring to go. Christ, I’m only twenty-six.’ His gaze softened and the corner of his mouth twisted up in that lopsided smile of his. ‘You used to be in love with me, didn’t you, little Imogen?’

  She flushed. ‘I … I suppose I was. Once.’

  He reached over and put his hand on hers. ‘I told you I was half in love with you too, remember? I know you would have been terribly, terribly good for me. Maybe you could even have given me a purpose in life. Led me out of this crazy world.’

  A rush of hope filled her as a new future suddenly opened up in front of her. ‘There’s time,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I still could – if you’ll give me a chance.’

  ‘Really?’ He looked at her almost imploringly. ‘You still feel like that? I thought you would have grown out of your schoolgirl crush years ago.’

  She stared at him, trying to drink in everything about him: his casual grace, the intensity of his dark blue eyes with their sweep of dark lashes, the size of his hands holding the glass. Was he really asking her if they could be together, if they had a chance? ‘I’ve never stopped loving you, not really,’ she whispered, half stumbling over the words, her heart racing. ‘I wanted to – but I couldn’t.’

&nb
sp; His eyes softened and he reached out his hand, touching her bare shoulder. ‘Is that true?’

  Her skin seemed to burn where he touched it. She nodded, yearning for him to embrace her again and this time tell her what she’d waited so long to hear: that he loved her too, and wanted to be with her.

  A loud clanging interrupted them. The dinner gong was being banged loudly in the house. For a long moment they stared at each other in the prickly warmth, not sure who would reach for who first. Then Xander smiled at her and squeezed her hand.

  ‘Let’s go in,’ he said, standing up. ‘I’m starving.’

  Dinner was served in an enormous ballroom with one long table arranged in the middle. The room was dark, lit only by the candles from two vast candelabra on the table. The candlelight revealed a scene like that from a Dutch eighteenth-century still-life. Along the black tablecloth dark-skinned fruit and vegetables were piled: aubergines, black grapes and apples painted black. Decanters of rich red wine were dark as blackened blood in the dim light. Everything was twined with black silk ribbon and ivy spray-painted black.

  Beside each plate was a gift wrapped in black crêpe paper and tied with silk ribbon. The others had taken their places by the time Xander and Imogen came in.

  ‘Imogen, sit here by me.’ Piers patted the place next to him. Xander sauntered over to his seat between two girls, a beautiful blonde and a gorgeous brunette, who both greeted him enthusiastically. ‘I think we should open our gifts.’

  Imogen took hers from beside her plate and opened it. Under the crêpe paper was a box and in that was a small packet of black Sobranie cigarettes, a pill, a black bottle of fluid marked ‘Deliciously warming, tingling and easing oil for a lady’s hot cunt’, a small black vibrating dildo and three black condoms.

  Oh, God, she thought, staring at the contents. She wanted to giggle. So now it was absolutely plain what sort of a party this was.

  There was much laughing and exclaiming over the gifts. The boys had bottles marked ‘A libidinous, enlivening lotion for the rearing tool of a gentleman’ and a cock ring with a vibrating clitoral stimulator.

  What are the rules? she wondered. Then rebuked herself. Don’t be an idiot. There won’t be any. Already energised by champagne and coke, she was tickled and a little excited at the thought of what lay in store. As long as it’s Xander, I’m happy. She looked over to where he was sitting. The blonde next to him was cooing over his cock ring, and saying how much she loved the little buzzing device, while the brunette on his other side was making much of downing her pill with a gulp of Dom Pérignon.

  He looked over at her and raised one eyebrow, a smile playing about his lips. Isn’t this an amusing game? he seemed to be saying. But I’d rather be with you …

  It was no surprise that the whole dinner followed the black theme: black-clad waiters brought in a black soup, melba toast and more caviar. The main course had been doctored with food colouring and in the dim candlelight it was very hard to see what anything was, but Imogen thought she detected mashed potato and some kind of roast bird as well as vegetables. Pudding was a magnificent black pavlova, the whipped cream like a dark silk pillow on the crisp base, decorated with blackberries.

  After pudding, coffee and dark chocolate were brought round, and finally the port was passed along with black-rinded cheeses and charcoal biscuits. The liberal amounts of wine, cocaine and pills had their effect throughout the meal. The conversation was loud and manic, punctuated with roars of laughter. Imogen talked to Piers on one side of her and to Robin who was on her other, and they kept her amused. She kept one eye on Xander all the time, though, feeling ripples of jealousy whenever he talked to the beauties on either side of him. I’m not letting anyone else have him, she told herself firmly. He’s mine tonight.

  ‘And now!’ Piers roared suddenly. He pushed away his coffee cup and wine glasses, clearing a space in front of him. ‘Let’s get the party started!’

  Someone must have been listening for this cue. The room suddenly filled with pounding rock music, thudding and urgent. Piers climbed up on his chair and then on to the table as the other diners whooped, cheered and clapped. Dancing clumsily in time to the music, he took off his dinner jacket and threw it to the floor, then undid his bow tie, whipped it round a few times and tossed it to one of the women.

  Imogen stared up at the gyrating Piers, laughing and clapping. Oh my God, he’s going to strip!

  But then he unbuttoned his shirt, opened it, and revealed not his naked skin but a black corset laced tightly up his back so that little folds of fat had gathered at the front that looked like tiny breasts with a mass of curly hair between them. As the room full of people screamed with delight, he dropped his trousers; underneath he was wearing black silk knickers which bulged outwards and his corset was attached by ribbons to a pair of fishnet tights that showed off his surprisingly shapely legs. He’d already taken his shoes off, so now he stepped easily out of his trousers, kicked them away and began to do a kind of pole-dance routine, writhing and rubbing himself all over.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ said Robin, on Imogen’s other side. He leant over and kissed her on the lips, pushing his tongue between them and rolling it inside her mouth before she’d realised what was going on. She pulled away and said lightly, ‘Hello, yourself.’

  All round the table, people had obviously taken Piers’ routine as the signal to get going: some neighbours were kissing passionately; one man leant back and looked on appreciatively as the girls to either side of him started snogging fiercely, flicking their tongues in and out of each other’s mouths so that their observer could see precisely what they were doing. One of the girls next to Xander was plucking at his buttons, undoing his shirt, while murmuring appreciatively.

  It was as though some extraordinary spirit of indiscriminate lust had possessed everyone instantly and they were powerless to resist it. A girl was already almost naked, two men stripping her off hungrily as she giggled and pushed her breasts together and rubbing them sensuously with her hands.

  ‘You’re gorgeous,’ breathed Robin, his eyes glassy with lust. He put his hand on Imogen’s breast and dipped a finger into her bodice, tweaking a nipple. ‘I want to suck your tits …’

  ‘You’ll have to get in line, Robin,’ drawled Xander, suddenly appearing next to him and taking his hand firmly out of the front of Imogen’s dress. ‘But why not go and see Bebe and Josephine? They want to play.’ He gestured over at the girls he had been sitting next to. Robin got up happily and went to join them.

  Imogen glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling. She stood up as he took her hand. ‘I thought you’d never get here.’

  ‘Unavoidably detained.’ He grinned, looking down at his unbuttoned shirt, then pulled her close to him. She savoured his scent, inhaling it and trembling with desire for him.

  ‘I don’t think I’m all that keen on having sex with Robin,’ she whispered.

  ‘I’d be very offended if you did,’ said Xander with a laugh. ‘I want you all to myself.’ He put his arms round her and kissed her, pressing her lips open with his until they were kissing properly. Then he pulled away, leaving her breathless and dizzy. ‘Shall we go somewhere a little more private?’ he said, his eyes glittering.

  She nodded. All around them was movement and activity. Some people had moved over to the cushions laid out on the floor. Robin was already lying there, his face slack with lust as Xander’s brunette pulled out his cock and began to lick and suck it. Another man was already pushing the dildo up under the skirt and between the legs of a woman who held the vibrating toy to her nipples, watching as they stiffened under its touch.

  The two men had finished stripping the girl naked and had laid her out on the dining room table, her legs splayed over the edge. One had already buried his face in her mound while the other was kissing her and caressing her breasts.

  Everywhere Imogen looked people were kissing and licking and stroking, in all combinations and in various states of undress. Their lack of inhibition
was liberating; she felt bubbles of lust climbing inside her. ‘Let’s go somewhere, quickly,’ she said, fired up, desperate to have Xander.

  He understood, took her hand and led her through a pair of double doors into a smaller room, also covered in cushions. He shut the doors behind them, closing them off from the dining room and plunging them into darkness.

  ‘Imogen,’ he said, his voice hoarse and cracked with desire. He pulled her into his arms and they kissed hungrily, as though they couldn’t get enough of each other. Then they were stripping each other’s clothes off as quickly as they could, fired up by the sight of the activity in the dining room. She pushed off her dress and stepped out of it, her breathing short and her pulse racing. Xander took her right nipple into his mouth, pulling and tickling it with his tongue as he pushed her down on to the floor. He was naked now, pressing his body against hers, murmuring softly as his hands ran over her hips and stomach.

  She lay back, arching her neck as he moved down her body, kissing and licking her stomach, till he reached her knickers. He pushed his face into the soft silk, inhaling her as he caressed her thighs, and then he gently pulled them off, pushing them down her legs and exposing her small dark bush. He breathed lightly on it, tickling it unbearably and making her gasp. Every nerve ending was straining; she longed to feel him touch her but he made her wait, as her pussy throbbed and ached. Then, he dropped his mouth to her and began to lick and nip at its soft folds and the bud that was already stiff and proud. The sensation was almost unbearable: smooth waves of delicious pleasure mixed with the tingle of electricity as his soft tongue touched her most sensitive place.

  ‘Please … let me …’ she gasped, desperate to touch him, to return some of the exquisite feelings he was giving her. He understood, and shifted so that she could reach for his prick. She seized its shaft, hot and hard in her hand, and flicked her tongue over it. Then she took it in, rolling the tip of his smooth penis round her mouth, moving up and down the shaft and tickling the end with her tongue as she played with his balls, stroking and moving them in their sac.