14

The coldness of the dawn put paid to any more efforts to sleep, and I got up. All night I had heard laughter and music echoing round the Hall. Someone had tried my door several times, but I had locked it. It was out of character for me to be on the fringes of a party, but that night I didn’t want to join in. In the few dreams I snatched, all I could see was the waiter’s indistinct reflection and his eyes glittering in the window as he screwed me.

I dressed in yesterday’s clothes, leaving my velvet finery on the bed. I took my bag and went downstairs. The Hall was silent with sleep, but there were shoes and scarves and even the odd pair of knickers strewn about the corridors and stairs. I remembered that my own magenta knickers would still be in the alcove, where the waiter had ripped them off, but although I searched at every single window in the salon, I couldn’t find them.

The early morning air was freezing, and I pulled my camel coat tight around me. I had no idea how I was going to get home, but I wanted to leave, right away. Something about last night’s deception made me feel awful. Chrissie was my oldest friend and, through Club Crème, I’d ended up sliding up and down her fiancé’s pole. I wanted to speak to her, sort things out, but I didn’t know what to say. How could I talk my way out of her inevitable conclusion that my new job had changed me into some sort of boyfriend-stealing bitch?

I wanted to speak to Mimi, too. But I didn’t want her to come marching in to my room and catch me in the middle of escaping.

There was one person I did want to see right now, though. I fingered the silver earring in my pocket and set off towards the stables. As soon as the warm smell of fur and straw and hoof oil wafted over the yard to greet me I felt better. I heard a muffled snort of laughter. I turned, my cheeks burning, expecting it to be Merlin.

But it was the two lads who had stared through the windows last night. They had been a few inches from the action – separated only by a pane of glass. My cheeks burned even hotter. I realised that somehow there was something far more titillating yet embarrassing about being watched by a couple of teenagers than being watched or even shagged by any number of full-grown, hairy men.

The two boys were shuffling across the cobbles, leaning on pitchforks and yawning. They saw me and nudged each other. I blushed scarlet. They looked me slowly up and down. Not that they could see much of me today, swathed in my coat, but still they had the eyes of dirty old men in their young faces, and I felt as if they were stripping me.

I walked as sedately as I could to the nearest stable and started stroking the long face of the big bay horse with a white streak down its nose. More than anything I wanted Merlin to come up behind me as he had last night, disguised as a waiter. I wanted him to decide what to do next. He was usually the outsider looking in and, for a few moments, staring at the sleeping Hall full of hung-over, sated people, I wondered if I was the same.

Seeing Chrissie last night had reminded me who I was supposed to be. The urchin in the ripped jeans – not this sex siren, bringing men to heel with a flick of a shirt button while purporting to be at their beck and call.

And yet I enjoyed being the sex siren. Loved it, in fact. I didn’t know if I could turn back to my old sensible ways, even for Chrissie.

As I breathed in all the familiar smells, my heart started thumping. That always happened when I started questioning what I was doing. The horse tossed its head, impatient with me because I had no oats or sugar lumps, and knocked me sideways. I clutched on to the stable door, feeling stupid. In the distance I could hear the hooves of another horse, half trotting, half galloping across the parkland. I changed my mind. I couldn’t let Merlin find me here, waiting for him like a love-struck schoolgirl. It was time to go.

I clicked my heels loudly across the cobbles towards the two boys, and pointed to an old horsebox parked nearby. They shrugged, and watched me. I couldn’t be bothered to struggle with conversation today, so I just tried the door of the horsebox, which fell rustily open. I lifted my leg to get in, and paused. My coat was undone. They could see the lacy tops of my stockings. If I just parted my legs a little more, it was a struggle to reach the step after all, they could see higher, right up my skirt.

I looked over at them, and winked, then climbed on to the cracked old seats of the front cab. The two lads didn’t need inviting twice. They raced over. I crossed my legs slowly, my tight skirt pulled across my thighs, leaving my coat open so that at least they had something to ogle on our journey and, in minutes, we were backing out into the road, leaving the sleeping Hall behind us.

The other horse had nearly reached us, and I noticed that the rider was sitting like a cowboy, legs straight in the western-style saddle. We had nearly passed him before he frowned over at the horsebox and saw who was rattling out of the gates. My heart started racing again as I saw who it was. He wheeled his horse in front of us, putting his hand up as if we were Bonnie and two Clydes escaping from a bank raid with the booty.

‘Shit. We’re in trouble now,’ muttered the boys. They licked their hands and looked lively as their boss approached the lorry.

‘Kidnapping Miss Summers?’ Sir Simeon enquired coolly. The boys shifted about anxiously on the seat. ‘I’m not sure that’s allowed.’

‘I asked them to take me to the station, Sir Simeon,’ I spoke up for them.

‘Well, we’ll swap. You boys take the horse. I’ll take the girl,’ Sir Simeon said, dismounting stiffly.

The three of us sat blankly in the cab, watching him. I realised that with his bad leg the only way to ride was western style, with his legs straight in long stirrups. It suited him. In the cold morning light he looked ruddy and bright-eyed, his eyes accentuated by a thick blue sweater. He wore leather chaps over his cream cords to protect them from the inevitable sweat and grease of the saddle. I couldn’t help admiring his elegance even when he was dismounting from a horse. The intriguing lord-of-the-manor style was every bit as irresistible as his son’s contrasting, Mexican-bandit style.

‘I said, you take the horse!’ Sir Simeon repeated loudly, rapping on the door.

The boys scrambled out without even looking at me, and Sir Simeon hoisted himself up into the driver’s seat. The horsebox was still vibrating as its ancient engine idled, and I watched his strong fingers as he wrestled to get the gear stick into place.

‘Can you take me to the station?’ I asked, as the lorry lurched into first gear.

‘Certainly not. It’s breakfast time.’

‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to London. I had a bit of a jolt last night. Jeremy Hall’s fiancée is my oldest friend, Chrissie. She knows that I had an interview back in October with Club Crème but she has no idea that he’s a member. She doesn’t know that her perfume convention was organised by the club. And she most certainly doesn’t know what goes on there.’

Sir Simeon’s laugh came from deep down in his chest. He stepped on the accelerator and the horsebox coughed its way towards the house. ‘I’m aware of the poor woman’s ignorance,’ he said. ‘But she knows all about it now, you can be sure of that. And if she does mind about it, that’s not our problem. It’s not up to us to chastise scoundrels like Jeremy Hall. It’s only up to us to take care of our members when they’re away from home. Cosset them. Offer them succour. You know the drill.’

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ I said. ‘On the whole I absolutely love what’s been going on – what I’ve been doing at Club Crème –’ I stopped, remembering what he’d been doing to me that very first night in the bar, ‘– but I never intended this to be a permanent position, and it nearly got me into serious trouble last night. Chrissie will never speak to me again when she finds out.’

‘Let me tell you, young lady, that you are tailor-made for this job, and you’ve only just begun. All the members love you. The word is spreading via the grapevine. We’ve never had so many applications to join the club. You can’t possibly let little concerns like an old school friend stop you in your tracks.’

All the curtains were still drawn at the house. We creaked to a halt round the side and Sir Simeon turned the full force of his eyes on me.

‘I can’t be as blasé about this as you,’ I said and squirmed in my seat. ‘And I still think I should reconsider my position.’

‘It’s too early in the morning to be so formal. I’m more than happy to consider your position, but not in the way you mean. Look at you, Suki. Even sitting in a smelly horsebox at six in the morning, you still can’t help oozing it, can you?’ He hauled on the handbrake, then slid his hand easily off it onto my leg. ‘Legs akimbo like you’re posing for a lingerie catalogue  . . . no wonder those poor lads were practically blowing a gasket.’

He was right. My legs may have been demurely crossed, but my coat was thrown open and my skirt was hitched right up to my crotch. The triangle of my pubic hair was clearly visible between my thighs. In the haste to get away from the stable yard I’d forgotten that I’d lost my knickers.

‘I only wanted them to give me a lift,’ I mewed weakly but, as Sir Simeon raised one cynical eyebrow, I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. ‘I thought an eyeful would do it.’

‘They’d have driven you to John O’Groats with that on offer,’ was his rejoinder, as he cast his eyes to my crotch, ‘and I’m not letting such a treasure slip through my fingers, either. But first things first. What did I say earlier about breakfast?’

Before I could protest any further he had marched me through the silent house and into a small study that smelt of lavender and French polish. The walls were painted a soothing dark green and were lined with books. There was a large desk in the window and an old leather Chesterfield sofa beckoned me from beneath a stunning portrait of a dark-skinned woman with waist-length black hair and Cherokee cheekbones. She was lying naked, one hand thrust between her smooth legs, her other arm flung over the arm of what looked like the very same Chesterfield sofa. The décor was very similar to some of the rooms at the club.

I went across to sit down and, as my eyes shut, it felt as if I was sinking forever into the enveloping leather.

Then came the strong aroma of coffee wafting in my nostrils, too tempting to ignore. Who was bringing me coffee in bed, I wondered blearily. An irate Mimi? A livid Chrissie? An off-hand Merlin? I sniffed the coffee for a moment, unwilling to come to, but then I opened my eyes blearily. I wasn’t in bed at all. A big white bowl of coffee and a buttery croissant were on the table in front of me. They blurred out of focus as I closed my eyes again, thankful that Mimi and Chrissie and Merlin hadn’t discovered that I was still here, slumbering in the master’s study.

‘Don’t go to sleep again, Suki. This is too good an opportunity to miss.’

I forced my eyelids apart. Sir Simeon was sitting in a big armchair opposite me. He’d taken off the jumper and was wearing a denim-blue shirt open at the neck. I thought of all the other guises I’d seen him in: the tramp shuffling through the hall at the club; the businessman in his suit and tie, calmly taking me from behind; the smart spy in his long coat and trilby.

I imagined the shirt and countrified cords were his usual look, but I could have been wrong. This could be yet another disguise. And Merlin was pretty nifty at changing his look to suit his surroundings too. They were a pair of chameleons. This morning Sir Simeon looked ridiculously youthful and virile, lord of all he surveyed and lord especially of me. He pushed the coffee across the table.

‘What do you want me to do?’ I asked nervously, sitting up and shaking my hair out of my eyes. He was, after all, my boss. ‘I imagine you’ve kept me here to do something for you.’

‘Oh yes, I want you to do something for me,’ he said. ‘It’s not fair that everyone else, including my wayward son, keeps getting to taste you, Suki. It’s time I exercised my rights over you.’

Droit de seigneur, do you mean?’ I asked cheekily. I remembered the medieval term. I’d always thought the idea of the lord of the manor having his wicked way with any wench he chose was dead sexy. And in some ways that was how it had been with the prince. Perhaps Merlin also.

‘A modern version,’ Sir Simeon was saying. ‘Nowadays you have the choice to refuse, which those poor milkmaids and shepherdesses didn’t. But I’ll take advantage of you anyway.’

The laugh was rumbling up from his chest again. I was starting to feel horny at the thought of him taking me by force, but I felt compelled to deflect him, not show him I was that easy.

‘Mimi will never forgive either of us,’ I warned him, sitting up and trying in vain to pull my skirt down. It would have been simpler just to take it off. I tried to get a grip on the bowl of coffee, but my fingers were shaking. No one else had this effect on me, I thought crossly. Hot coffee slopped over my fingers. I tried to lift the coffee bowl to my lips to hide my face, but it tipped dangerously to one side and I let it go. I started crumbling the croissant instead.

‘That tactic won’t distract me, Suki. Mimi is my employee as well, don’t forget. It’s not up to her what I do.’

‘She’s not just that. She’s your mistress, isn’t she? I saw her with you, in your flat in London.’

‘Did you now? Exciting, was it? What were we doing, exactly?’

He wanted me to confess to being a voyeur, the dirty sod. His eyes flashed but I couldn’t tell if it was amusement or anger. I picked up the croissant and held it like a gun towards him.

‘You were in front of your fire. I saw you from the club penthouse, that’s all. When I was at Mikhail’s party. Merlin was standing by the window all night, and I wanted to see what he’d been looking at.’

‘What did you see, my peeping Thomasina?’

He was standing up now, coming round the coffee table towards me.

‘Nothing,’ I answered, slightly shakily. ‘It’s none of my business. But Merlin can’t have been very happy by what he saw.’

‘That serves him right for being where he’s not welcome,’ Simeon snapped. ‘I’m sure whatever mischief we were getting up to, you’ve done with him. Lucky devil. So you see, we’re all even.’

‘Except we’re not even at all,’ I retorted, ‘because, in the end, she and I are just your wenches.’

I was halfway to my feet now. Simeon pushed me into the soft leather of the sofa and I fell back again, dragging him with me. In falling, I yanked him towards me and felt his weight crushing me. I lifted my hands, trying to get a grip on something, and my fingers caught round the back of his head. I froze at the intimate touch of his thick hair and tried to twist away, but his face was close. I could smell faint cigar smoke and the scent of some bespoke eau de cologne, no doubt purchased in Jermyn Street. My lips slid against his, and then he was biting my mouth. I was too shocked to move. I was in awe of him, and yet I wanted him. I forced myself to wait and see what he would do.

I realised I was struggling to breathe, suffocated by the sudden ferocious desire rocketing through me. He was heavy lying on top of me. It was intoxicating, but it was also squeezing the life out of me. I didn’t want real life to come crowding in, let alone the party of guests who would be waking upstairs, but I needed to get him off. With a huge effort I twisted away from under him and tried to stumble to my feet, but he caught me round the middle, slamming me back across his knees.

‘Where are you going, my pretty maid?’ he enquired, whisking my coat off. ‘Because I was planning to have you for my breakfast.’

‘Here? Now?’ I whined. ‘They’ll all be awake soon.’ I gasped and wriggled, suddenly becoming as helpless as the proverbial milkmaid. I glanced across the room. ‘Anyone could barge in looking for you.’

‘Who cares? They’ll either run a mile or else stay for the show, if they’ve any taste. That doesn’t bother you, does it?’ he asked. He could tell I was still tense. ‘It’s a bit late to come over all shy with me, Miss Summers.’

He had my tight T-shirt up over my head before I could stop him, and tossed it on to the floor. He paused when he saw that I was wearing the magenta corset and, as always, I preened with satisfaction at the sight of my own breasts cupped in my carefully chosen underwear.

‘I’m not shy,’ I whispered, fighting the urge to undo the corset for him.

‘Mimi said you had amazing taste in lingerie,’ he said. ‘She was surprised, considering the orphan Annie act you tried on with all of us at first.’

‘That wasn’t an act.’

I looked down, jealousy elbowing my lust aside. I didn’t want to think about Mimi at this precise moment, for God’s sake. His fingers traced the seams and embroidery of the garment, felt the delicate cups holding my breasts, but avoided touching my skin. My nipples pricked up. My tight skirt was rucked up round my hips. The expanse of white flesh at the top of my thighs gleamed out from the silk stockings, spread on either side of his legs, inviting the eye up to delve into the shadows of my sex.

‘You know she’s touched me?’ I said. So much for not thinking about Mimi. ‘She took me in hand. Literally. She fingered me. Like this.’

I slid my fingers down between my legs. I was being purposefully provocative. For a moment his blue eyes rested on my face, then he looked down. I shifted to part my legs a little more, and edged my fingers into the auburn curls. I held my breath to stop myself gasping out loud as they grazed the hidden clit.

‘And who can blame her,’ he said quietly, unzipping my skirt.

‘Mimi did this to me on my first day working for you,’ I repeated myself stubbornly. ‘She finger-fucked me in her house, and kissed me, with tongues, and I enjoyed it. How does that make you feel?’

‘It makes me all the more determined to have you again myself, Miss Summers. Save you, and her, the bother of sisters doing it for themselves.’

I couldn’t believe how cool and cheeky he was. Nothing fazed him. He was snatching me from under Merlin’s nose as calmly as he had snatched Mimi. No wonder Merlin was always so angry. But it only made me want Sir Simeon all the more. The resistance had ebbed right out of me.

Sensing this as clearly as he would sense fear in one of his horses, Simeon suddenly hoisted me off his knee and ripped my skirt off, then thumped me down again and started to unhook the corset. The daylight coming through the window was harsh and bright now, leaving nothing to the imagination. He lifted the corset away and my freed breasts tumbled heavily forwards.

‘No arguments now, eh? Fight gone out of you?’

‘It’s too early in the morning to fight. Anyway, look at me,’ I said, and we both looked down. I was naked apart from my stockings and boots. I was straddling his knee, and he had one arm round my waist to stop me moving. He caught one bouncing breast with his other hand, and he was pulling it towards his face. I was sitting on his thighs, my fingers still poking and prodding inside my warm, wet lips, even though he couldn’t see what I was doing.

‘And you’re not going to try running away again?’ he asked.

‘I’ve nowhere to run to,’ I replied.

The potent mix of awe and desire was crushing me. I couldn’t run away because my legs would collapse beneath me. As if he knew what I was thinking, he let go of my waist, inviting me to try to run, but then he started fondling my breasts and, pulling me towards him, he bit hard on one nipple, then the other, sending shocks of desire straight to my cunt.

I pushed myself hard against his face, grabbing his hair and angling my nipples brazenly into his mouth, scraping them against his teeth, pulling back, muffling his cheeks and ears with the warm mounds as if to drown him.

‘That’s good. Because no one ever runs away from me,’ he said calmly, and the arrogance only fired me up even more.

I rose up on my knees. My moist sex stuck to his trousers for a minute, the tiny curls caught on the fabric, tugging the tender skin before letting go. I wanted to be higher up than him, feel his head burrowing in between my breasts. He was hurting me now, biting and nibbling, as my nipples stretched taut like arrowheads. They felt hard yet sensitive, feeling the pain yet relishing the pleasure. My hips started to gyrate automatically; the female instinct that kicked in during arousal.

I wriggled my buttocks backwards, still leaning my torso against his face, and scrabbled for his zip. I felt him tense and, for a moment, his mouth relaxed on my nipple, but I got my hand firmly inside his trousers, then pulled them down until my fingers landed on his waiting prick.

‘Not even Mimi?’ I challenged him, egged on by the sudden vision I had of him having sex with her in her big white house, rolling across the white carpet, her big brown nipples dangling over him, his cock ramming up inside her  . . .

His penis jumped in my hand. I tilted my pelvis in answer, teasing him with the moist prize of young pussy. Even I wasn’t so cruel as to prolong the proceedings for too long and I gently guided his cock until it rested just inside me. Even then, I thought about Mimi. I liked her. More than liked her. But now we were in competition for this guy and his son. The fighting spirit made my whole body pulsate with longing.

‘I warn you, Summers. Don’t get smart,’ Sir Simeon went on. ‘I’m capable of anything if I’m roused, particularly to anger.’

‘I’d like to see you roused. But you wouldn’t hurt me, Sir Simeon,’ I mocked softly. ‘You want me too badly.’

Instead of waiting, relishing the suspense, I let myself drop, driving myself on to his cock. He kept his fingers on my nipples, rubbing and pinching, but he pulled his mouth away, and I could feel his breath hot on my throat.

‘I won’t be spoken to like that, Summers. You are a dirty little bitch, Summers, and you’re asking for it.’

Then we were growling and swearing like old foes going into battle, both bucking furiously against each other. I gripped him with my thighs, thrusting my hips against him, cramming him in, grinding right down to the very base so that he filled me with all those solid inches of rock-hard, thrusting cock.

Each time we pulled back and slammed against each other we became more violent, and I cried out loud as I felt him hitting the G-spot. Time was running out.

‘Go on, then,’ I taunted him. I had no idea where this all came from. ‘Show me what you’re like when you’re roused. Show me how cheeky I’ve been, before they all walk in and see us.’

I couldn’t hold on much longer. I was arousing myself to a fever pitch. I clawed at my clit, lewdly frigging myself to egg him on further, giving him the treat of his life. This was my first proper time with him, and very likely my last, and I wanted it to keep going as long as possible. On the other hand, I couldn’t stop the flow. I could tell from the sounds around the house – clattering of pans in the kitchen, plates and cutlery being laid out in the dining room – that we were no longer alone and, any minute, a butler or someone would come knocking at Sir Simeon’s door.

‘I warn you, Summers,’ he started to growl, but there were other sounds coming from him. Up until now he had kept himself in check but there was a low, surprised groaning which I guessed signalled his approaching climax. His head fell back against the sofa and he stared at me, his eyes clouding over, frowning as if this wasn’t what he expected, and I rode him for all I was worth, moaning in my own exquisite pain as I started to come and, as the climax broke over me and his eyes flickered, I leaned over and kissed him again, licked his lips, flicked my tongue over his teeth, sucked his tongue as it slipped into my mouth. He strained up against me, his mouth warm and fixed on mine, and I felt him pumping his juice into me. I squeezed every drop and held it there. I didn’t want it to ebb away because then it would be gone for good.

There was a sharp rapping at the door and we jerked apart. We stared at each other, trying not to laugh. I gripped him inside me as hard as I could. His penis twitched once, twice, then started to slip out. I twisted away from him, grabbed my clothes and turned my back. The daylight and the rapping had knocked sense into us. Our mingled juices dripped down the insides of my legs as I zipped my skirt back up. My nipples still tingled as I pulled the shirt back on. I couldn’t relax until I had buttoned my coat up, run my fingers through my hair and taken several more breaths.

Then I turned to look at Sir Simeon. Thank God, he’d done up his trousers and was sitting there calmly as if we’d just had a business meeting.

‘Come in,’ he called. The butler entered and glanced immediately at the magenta corset slung over the arm of the Chesterfield. His face didn’t flicker. He picked up the crumbled croissant and the untouched coffee. We must have looked a picture. Me standing over Sir Simeon as if I’d just been telling him off, him sitting on the sofa rubbing his bad leg, cool except for his burning eyes.

When the butler had gone, Sir Simeon stood up and went across to his desk.

‘Still determined to leave?’ he asked, waving the MG car keys at me. ‘Even though the party carries on tonight? Even though you’re the best we’ve ever had?’

‘What do you mean, the best? Employee or lover? For Mimi or for you?’

‘Both. All of it. She’d agree with me. She’s wild about you. We all are. Don’t go, Suki. The Club Crème needs you.’

I couldn’t help snorting. ‘You make me sound like the cavalry,’ I said.

‘Not that the cavalry arrived in a little old MG, but if you’ll stay, there’ll be more than car keys on offer.’

His back was to the window, so I couldn’t see the expression on his face. I hoped he was desperate for my answer to be yes, and reluctant to show it.

‘Let me go back to London,’ I said, catching the keys as he threw them at me. I was equally desperate to have him again. ‘And then I’ll think long and hard about staying on at the club.’

‘Fine,’ barked Sir Simeon, once more the lord. Then he turned and threw something which landed softly on my shoulder. I hooked my fingers into it. It was a sliver of magenta satin. The lord looked haughtily down his nose before his cheekbones lifted in unmistakable amusement. ‘But don’t forget to take your knickers with you.’