Chapter Two

KRISTINA PUT DOWN the telephone in her office and buzzed for Sue to come through. ‘We’ll have to write a suitably grovelling email to Peter Hitchens’ publishers,’ she said ruefully. ‘The wretched man still hasn’t finished the first draft of his manuscript and we’d promised delivery two months ago.’

‘What shall we plead? Illness? Family problems?’ asked Sue.

‘I feel like telling them the truth; that he’s got far too big for his boots since he won that literary prize! No, I’m joking. We’ll say he isn’t satisfied and doesn’t want to send them anything that’s not up to standard. It’s true up to a point; he can hardly be satisfied with a book he hasn’t written yet!’

‘At least Lucretia’s still writing happily. You haven’t heard from her for at least two weeks,’ commented Sue as she jotted down what Kristina was telling her.

‘Is it two weeks?’ asked Kristina in surprise.

‘Definitely. I know because I made a note in my diary. I always do that with her, just to amuse myself! Anything else?’

‘Not as far as I know. I’m meeting that new editor this afternoon and then I’ll probably take a manuscript from the slush pile home. That last one Paul recommended I’ve decided to take on, and he thinks this is almost as good. The only problem these days is selling new authors to publishing houses.’

‘If anyone can do it you can,’ Sue assured her.

After she’d gone, Kristina sat thinking about what Sue had said. If it was two weeks since Lucretia had last rung then it was two weeks since she’d seen Jacqueline. After their dinner she’d tried phoning her almost every night, but Jackie wasn’t just out, she’d also turned off her voicemail. All in all she was proving highly elusive to contact, and Kristina was desperate to find out more about the handsome but strange Laurence van Kitson.

On a sudden impulse she picked up her phone and dialled the paper where Jackie worked. She had started there as a junior reporter but was now rapidly becoming one of the leading women journalists of the day with her own weekly column and a growing army of fans who enjoyed her sardonic wit and occasional in-depth interview.

Usually she was out of the office, but this time Kristina was lucky and within minutes Jacqueline was on the other end of the line. Kristina could tell from her muted response that Jackie didn’t really want to talk to her, so she rushed on quickly before her friend could terminate the call.

‘Look, Jackie, I’ve got a few problems with Ben,’ she said, which was at least partly true. ‘I thought perhaps we could meet up and have a chat. I’d really value your opinion, especially as you’ve recently split from William.’

There was a short pause. ‘I’m rather busy at the moment,’ replied Jacqueline cautiously.

‘Aren’t we all! The truth is, I desperately need to hear someone else’s point of view, and you’re the person I trust most,’ said Kristina, despising herself for lacking the courage to come out with the real reason she wanted the meeting but knowing that her instinct was right, and that anyway if she did Jackie would refuse to see her.

‘Okay then,’ conceded her friend. ‘I can’t make it tonight, and Friday’s out too but I suppose tomorrow would be all right.’

‘Great. Shall I come round to your place? We can hardly talk about Ben at mine!’

‘Why not meet for a meal?’ suggested Jacqueline.

‘It’s a bit personal for that,’ protested Kristina. ‘Besides, now that you’re getting so well known we’d never have a moment’s peace.’

‘I’m hardly Kate Middleton!’ Jackie laughed, finally relaxing. ‘Still, you’ve got a point. See you tomorrow then. Let’s say about eight. Must dash now.’

That evening, as Kristina went through a contract with a new publisher with a fine-tooth comb, checking for any hidden clauses that were to the author’s disadvantage, Ben got out the ironing board and started pressing some of his shirts.

‘Can’t that wait?’ asked Kristina abruptly.

He looked at her in surprise. ‘Actually, no it can’t. I’m out of shirts. Why? Did you want to do them yourself?’

‘No, of course not! It’s only that …’

‘Only that what?’ he demanded.

Kristina bit on her bottom lip. She didn’t know how to answer him. There really wasn’t any reason for her to say a word. She’d never been the kind of partner who ironed his shirts or did all his laundry, and normally she wouldn’t have taken any notice of what he was doing. It was simply that without any warning, she’d had a vision of Laurence van Kitson doing his own ironing, and the idea had been so preposterous that it had made her want to laugh. Realising that the idea of him ironing was amusing had made her feel annoyed with Ben for doing it, because Ben ironing wasn’t remotely amusing, and that worried her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days. I feel on edge all the time, as though there’s something wrong but I don’t know what.’

‘Did you want to go to bed?’ asked Ben, his eyes eager.

Kristina knew that the very last thing she wanted to do right then was to go to bed with Ben and have him, as Jackie had said about William, make love to her by numbers. She forced herself to smile. ‘No, honestly I’m fine and I have to get this contract checked. Sorry, Ben; you carry on.’

In the early hours of the morning Kristina awoke from a strange, sensual dream in which someone unknown and faceless had been touching her softly and intimately. She awoke desperate for sexual satisfaction, her lower belly and the soft flesh between her thighs aching with sexual tension and without a second thought she climbed on top of the naked Ben and began to arouse him with her body.

He responded automatically, but it was only when she actually started to lower herself on to his erection that he awoke properly. He groaned with sleepy pleasure and then idly ran his hands down the sides of her body as she rode him until her climax swept over her and she was released from the terrible tension caused by the dream.

‘That was nice,’ he muttered, turning over on his side again. ‘You can do that again any time you like!’

Kristina lay next to him and knew that she wouldn’t do it again, not ever. The physical ache had gone, but she felt empty and hollow instead. She wished that when Ben had woken he’d taken the initiative, thrown her on to her back and plunged into her himself, his hands pinioning her shoulders to the pillow. But that would never happen. Their love-making had never been like that. She’d never before wanted it to be, so how could Ben be expected to know that suddenly she longed for things to change?

The following evening she arrived at Jacqueline’s Kensington town house with two bottles of Chardonnay. Jackie opened the door to her wearing her usual leisure outfit of jogging pants and top, while on her feet she had a pair of huge pig slippers with ears that waved as she walked.

‘Very elegant!’ laughed Kristina. ‘Do you let Laurence see you like this?’

Jackie’s smile faded. ‘No, I don’t. He wouldn’t be at all amused. Come on through. Excuse the mess but my cleaning lady’s deserted me and I can’t find a replacement.’

‘You mean now that William’s gone you haven’t got anyone to tidy up after you!’ laughed Kristina.

Jacqueline gave a wry grin. ‘I guess that is the truth! Here, let me chill that wine for a few minutes, then we can have a good gossip.’

‘You’re leading a busy social life at the moment,’ Kristina remarked. ‘I’ve tried to get you loads of times, but you haven’t even been leaving your voicemail on.’

‘God, haven’t I? I must try and remember that. I can’t afford to screw up my job just because …’

‘Just because what?’ asked Kristina curiously.

‘Nothing,’ said Jackie quickly. ‘Let’s start drinking shall we and you can tell me all your woes.’

As they talked Kristina realised that she was being totally honest with herself as well as with Jacqueline, and for the first time she admitted that Ben was getting on her nerves. ‘He hasn’t changed,’ she concluded after over an hour. ‘I know that, just as I know I’m being totally unreasonable. The fact of the matter is, I’ve changed and I don’t know how to tell him.’

‘Tell him what?’ asked Jackie.

‘That I’d like him to change too I suppose.’

Jackie smiled. ‘But he won’t be able to. That’s like buying a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel and asking it to behave like a Rotweiller! Ben’s Ben, he can’t become someone else because your needs have changed. He likes the life he’s got, and he loves you the way you are, or were. He wouldn’t like the changes you want to take place. If Ben were the kind of man who wanted to be in charge he wouldn’t have moved in with you in the first place.’

‘I don’t want a selfish chauvinist,’ said Kristina crossly. ‘I only want him to take control sometimes. I’d like him to take me by surprise, do things differently now and again. Is that too much to ask?’

‘Yes, of Ben it is,’ replied Jacqueline. ‘William was the same; that’s why he had to go.’

‘Well, I don’t want someone like Laurence,’ said Kristina firmly. ‘He may be your idea of a fun date but he wouldn’t be mine. There must be a happy medium! I mean, does Laurence do anything for you?’

Jacqueline smiled a strange, secret smile. ‘Yes, lots of things.’

‘Like what?’ demanded Kristina.

‘If I tell you,’ said Jacqueline softly, ‘you must promise not to tell anyone else, ever. Do you promise?’

Kristina frowned. ‘Sure, but I can’t imagine why you’re being so secretive. What you do isn’t illegal is it?’

‘Of course not! But it is meant to be secret. The whole affair is, well, strange. It isn’t like you’d think, you see. It’s a kind of arrangement. A sexual arrangement.’

‘He isn’t a gigolo? You don’t pay him for sex?’ exclaimed Kristina in horror.

Jacqueline refilled their wine glasses and smiled at her friend. ‘Hardly! No, it’s much more difficult to explain than that. I suppose I ought to begin with the bracelet, the one you admired when we had that meal out. You remember?’

‘Yes,’ said Kristina. ‘I thought it had the letter “B” on it, but you said it wasn’t, it was simply a shape.’

‘Yes, but you were right, Kristina, it is a “B”. You see, it’s a bracelet of bondage.’

‘Bondage?’ queried Kristina stupidly. ‘You mean, you’re into being tied up? Is that what Laurence does to you?’

‘You’re shocked aren’t you?’ said Jacqueline, and she smiled. ‘Actually, no, that isn’t what it means, but since you ask Laurence does sometimes tie me up, when he wants to that is. But mostly we do other things.’

‘I don’t understand a word you’re saying,’ said Kristina, annoyed by the look of amused superiority on her friend’s face. ‘Okay, so you’re into bondage, what’s that got to do with the bracelet, or even Laurence? Surely William would have tied you up if that’s what you wanted?’

Jacqueline nodded. ‘Of course he would. William would have done anything I wanted, but Laurence does what he wants. There’s a big difference. Until I joined the society I didn’t even know myself what I really liked, and William would certainly never have been able to assess my needs in the way Laurence does.’

‘But you’re a modern, liberated woman,’ protested Kristina. ‘What’s the point of women’s new-found freedom if you end up getting some blond-haired South African hunk to tie you up and use you for his own pleasure? Don’t you think you’re rather letting the side down?’

‘Listen,’ said Jacqueline, refilling her wine glass. ‘You came here tonight because you wanted someone to hear how you were feeling about Ben, about your sex life really, isn’t that true?’

‘Yes,’ conceded Kristina.

‘Haven’t you ever stopped to think that perhaps because we’re successful career women we’ve trapped ourselves in a life where we’re always in control. Don’t you sometimes long for someone else to make a decision for you?’

‘Of course I do!’

‘Right, and so do a lot of other highly qualified, intelligent, high-profile women. This society, the society that I’ve joined, is intended for people like us. The “have-it-all” women who find they haven’t got it all.’

Kristina remembered the article about her in The Publishing News, and the strange unexplained emptiness that often filled her after she and Ben had made love, and kept silent. She suddenly wanted to hear more.

‘When I put on the bracelet,’ continued Jacqueline, ‘I know that for the time I wear it I’m totally subservient to Laurence. He controls everything. That’s why he chose my meal for me when we were out, and why he sent me off to the ladies room. He knew I didn’t need to go, and so did I, but because I’d chosen to wear the bracelet that night I had no choice. And do you know what? It was an incredibly exciting sensation. When I walk into his house and put that bracelet on I feel so aroused, so sensual, that sometimes I think I’ll explode the moment he touches me. Only of course I’m never allowed to.’

‘Not allowed to?’ asked Kristina.

‘No. He controls my pleasure, how much I have and when I’m allowed it. One evening the moment I arrived he told me that I couldn’t have my first climax for another two hours. He played with me, aroused me, stimulated me in ways you could never begin to imagine, but he made sure that he never allowed me to topple over the edge into a climax for the whole of the two hours.’

Kristina felt her cheeks growing hot and her body began to feel tight at the extraordinary story she was hearing. The trouble was, she could imagine the scene only too well. Could almost feel the touch of the South African’s hands on her own skin, and the incredible tension that must have been endured by her friend.

‘What was it like, when you finally did come?’ she whispered.

Jacqueline closed her eyes for a moment, remembering and savouring the moment again. ‘It was like nothing I’d ever imagined possible. I felt as though I was shattering into hundreds of pieces, as though my body would be torn apart by the power of the orgasm. Believe me, Kristina. It was the most wonderful sexual experience of my life.’

‘What if you don’t like what he does to you?’ asked Kristina, her voice trembling.

‘Then I remove the bracelet. Once that’s off the relationship is a normal one. We talk, or make love the way we both choose. Only it hardly ever happens. I mean, I do remove it sometimes but the whole point of these meetings is that I’m wearing the bracelet. Removing it is simply a safety precaution, in case your partner’s choice of game isn’t to your liking.’

‘How do you join?’ asked Kristina in a low voice.

‘It isn’t easy. A member has to put your name forward, and then you have to be approved by the committee. I don’t know who makes up the committee but they turn down far more women than they accept. They have to be sure that they get the right kind of women because the men involved are all highly successful in their fields and they’re very fussy.’

‘You mean there are a lot of men doing this?’

Jacqueline laughed. ‘You didn’t imagine Laurence satisfied all the women did you? Of course there are lots of men. If you get accepted you’re informed and then all your details are fed into a computer. After a time one of the men from the society chooses you and you get an invitation to go along and meet him. Sometimes it’s a phone call or an email, sometimes a written invitation, but the initial meeting usually lasts about an hour. If that goes well you arrange another meeting, but if it doesn’t work out for either of you then you just wait and try the next man who asks to see you.’

‘Why can’t a woman ask to meet a certain man?’ asked Kristina.

Jacqueline sighed. ‘That would ruin the whole thing, Kristina. The entire point of this is that the women who join want, for brief periods in their lives, to be controlled rather than to control. That’s why the women wait to be chosen, it’s a passive role, not an active one. If that doesn’t appeal to you then you wouldn’t be suitable for the society anyway.’

‘How often do you see Laurence?’ asked Kristina, her interest and desire growing the more Jacqueline talked.

Jacqueline looked slightly shamefaced. ‘At first I only used to wear the bracelet for an hour or two a week. Laurence would ring and I’d go round for a couple of hours just one night. At other times when he called I’d say I wasn’t in the mood. But now, when I’m not working, I hardly take it off. I can’t wait for him to call. I crave our time together and when I’m not wearing it I feel lost, bereft.

‘The awful truth is, Kristina, that for women like us, women who spend their working lives taking all the responsibility and making all the decisions, this bracelet is addictive. Just between ourselves, it’s beginning to frighten me. I resent going to work. I hate entertaining men who bore me or going to parties where everyone’s boring and I have to retain the facade of the famous journalist, witty, sexy and sparkling, for the benefit of everyone there.

‘All I want is to be wearing the bracelet for Laurence. I think about it constantly, and that’s why I’m never in when you call and why I don’t leave my mobile or voicemail on when I’m with him. I want to shut the rest of the world out because the physical pleasure and the incredible sensuality of the whole situation has become my life instead of my safety valve.’

Kristina shivered, not from cold but from fear. Yet the fear was not of what she was hearing, but of the effect it was having on her. She was aroused by the idea of wearing the bracelet, and afraid of what the consequences might be if she took the step of asking Jacqueline to put her name forward as a prospective member of the society.

‘Did you have to get rid of William before you could join?’ she asked, thinking that she couldn’t possibly split from Ben just because of what she’d heard tonight. The idea attracted her, drew her, but there was always the possibility that once involved she might not enjoy it as much as Jacqueline did. She might even realise that Ben was as perfect for her as she’d thought when they first met. She would never allow them to part at this stage, all because of the strange, darkly erotic story told to her by her friend.

‘You never have to do anything, except when you’re wearing the bracelet,’ explained Jacqueline carefully. ‘No one in the society cares about your life outside of the times you’re enjoying the benefits of the bracelet. William and I had to split. Once I knew myself better, understood how I got my deepest sexual satisfaction, there was no point in us staying together, but the choice was mine.’

‘Suppose I like the idea?’ said Kristina slowly. ‘Let’s say I want to join, if only to find out whether it proves as satisfying to me as it does to you. Would you put my name forward?’

‘Yes, of course I would. Mind you, that doesn’t mean you’d be accepted. It probably depends on how far your fame as a literary agent has spread. I think most of the women are business directors, or run their own PR companies, that kind of thing.’

Kristina frowned. ‘That’s a pretty insulting thing to say, Jackie. I am considered to be one of the leading literary agents of the day.’

‘I know that,’ Jacqueline assured her. ‘I’m only saying that I can’t speak for the committee, and I can’t influence them either. Once your name goes forward that’s it as far as I’m concerned. They make their own enquiries.’

‘What about safety?’ continued Kristina. ‘How can the women who join be sure they’re safe?’

‘I’ve no idea how the checks are done,’ admitted Jackie. ‘The only thing I can tell you is that the whole thing’s been going for five years now and there’s never once been any kind of trouble or scandal. I suppose, looking at it in the cold light of day, there’s an element of danger, risk if you like, but that’s probably what makes it so attractive. You know, rather like turning down a really good offer for a book because you’re sure a better one will come along. You know in your bones you’re right, but there’s always the chance you’re not. You get a thrill from that don’t you?’

‘I suppose I do, in a masochistic kind of way!’

‘There you are then. Women like us have to be risk takers to a degree, but there’s no fear of physical harm, blackmail or scandal. Probably the worst thing that could happen would be to fall in love with your partner. I heard it happened once and the couple left. This isn’t about love; it’s about desire and sexuality, freedom from responsibility and an escape from real life.’

‘You’re not falling in love with Laurence then?’ queried Kristina.

Jacqueline sighed. ‘Sometimes I think I am, but when I take the bracelet off it isn’t the same. I feel quite differently about him when we’re on equal terms, so I don’t think it’s really a worry.’

‘Do you see other men in the society?’ asked Kristina.

Jackie shook her head. ‘No; I could, but I don’t choose to. Laurence sees other women though. He sometimes tells me about them when I’m wearing the bracelet and I have to listen to how they respond to what he’s doing to me at that particular time.’

Kristina realised that her breathing had become rapid and shallow and that her lower belly was starting to ache with sexual desire. Suddenly she didn’t want to hear any more about what Jacqueline and Laurence did; she wanted to have a chance to try the experience for herself. Then, at last, she might begin to feel content with her life once more.

‘I’d definitely like you to put my name forward,’ she said softly. ‘You and I are very similar. When I saw you with Laurence the other night, saw the way you were together and that special look that you had about you, I envied you. If that’s what this society can do for me, then I want to join now!’

‘You must be sure,’ cautioned Jacqueline. ‘If you’re not and you back out at the last minute, then as your proposer I’ll lose my membership as well. We’re not expected to make mistakes of judgement like that.’

Kristina looked at her friend and smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t let you down. I’m quite sure this is something I want to try.’

Jacqueline nodded. ‘I think you’ve made the right decision, and I’ll keep my fingers crossed that they accept you! Now, do you want the last of this wine before you go back to patient Ben?’

‘I think I’ll go now if you don’t mind. Listening to all this has made me pretty impatient to see him! How will I know if I’ve been accepted?’

‘You’ll just get an invitation and that will be it. If you’re not accepted you won’t get one. There’s never any explanation given, and there’s no right of appeal either.’

‘How long does it take?’ asked Kristina, shifting restlessly on her chair.

‘In my case it took ten days, but I know some women who had to wait over a month. Remember, even if you’re accepted and fed into the computer, some man has to choose you.’

‘Yes, well hopefully at least one man will find me a reasonably exciting prospect,’ retorted Kristina.

‘If any of the men know you, or rather your reputation, then they will! You of all people should present quite a challenge, and that’s what these men want. They don’t want women who spend their lives being subservient. They want someone who finds it hard to adapt. A mental virgin you might call it!’ Jackie laughed, but Kristina didn’t. She was excited, nervous and on edge, but she certainly wasn’t amused.

‘Had a good time?’ asked Ben when she walked into the house.

‘Yes thanks. We chatted and had some wine, it made a nice change,’ said Kristina, winding her arms round his neck and kissing him deeply, her tongue flicking between his slightly parted lips.

Ben drew back in surprise. ‘Hey, what’s all this about?’

Still aroused by all she’d heard that evening, Kristina rubbed herself against him, her hands starting to unbutton his shirt. ‘Aren’t you pleased to see me back?’

‘Sure, but you’ve only been away four hours and in case you’ve forgotten I’ve got a presentation to make at eight in the morning. It’s my working breakfast, remember?’

Kristina released him, feeling slightly foolish. ‘Sorry, time for bed and Horlicks is it?’

‘That’s not fair, Kristina. You’ve been out relaxing, but I’ve been working on this damned advert and I’m still not happy with it. Now I’ve got to try and sleep before convincing the board tomorrow that I’ve got it right and this is the exact slogan they’ve been waiting for for the past six months. Tonight, sex isn’t high on my list of priorities.’

‘Fine, sorry, forget it. Your presentation had completely slipped my mind. You go on up; I’ll wait a few minutes, try and unscramble my thoughts. You know what it’s like when you’ve been chattering for hours.’

‘I know what it’s like when you’ve been chattering and drinking,’ commented Ben stiffly.

Kristina felt like hurling one of the sofa cushions after him. There were times, times like tonight, when he could be positively pompous, she thought furiously, and she waited a long time before joining him in bed. Even then her flesh was still tingling, and she longed for some kind of release from the sexual tension that Jacqueline’s revelations had brought about. Ben, sleeping soundly beside her, was an added irritation.

‘Damn and blast the man!’ exclaimed Kristina irritably as Sue sat down in the chair opposite her.

‘Not Michael Shaw, professional charmer and mildly eccentric publisher?’ asked Sue with a laugh.

‘The very same. He’s sat on that manuscript for six months saying how original, witty and clever it is and now he’s decided it doesn’t fit his list. Think of the time we’ve wasted! I’ll have to ring Peter and explain why his clever manuscript isn’t, after all, clever enough and has to go off to someone else.’

‘All in a day’s work,’ said Sue soothingly. ‘What’s wrong? It isn’t like you to get so worked up over something like this.’

Kristina rubbed at her eyes. ‘Sorry, bit tired I guess. You’re right, it is an everyday occurrence. I just happened to have thought we’d definitely got that placed. Never mind, back to the drawing-board. Can you get the emails finished by five-thirty? Only I’d like them all to go off tonight.’

‘Sure,’ agreed Sue calmly.

When she’d left the office, Kristina gave herself a mental shake. It wasn’t really Michael Shaw who’d annoyed her, it was the fact that three weeks had passed since she’d spoken to Jacqueline and she still hadn’t heard a word from anyone. Every time the phone rang or she got a letter she didn’t recognise through the post her pulse would quicken, and then her stomach would plunge with disappointment when it proved to be entirely unconnected with the society of the bracelet. Her phone rang again and she picked it up automatically.

‘Yes?’ she queried.

‘Is that Kristina Masterton?’ asked an unknown male voice.

‘It is.’

‘You don’t know me,’ continued the voice, ‘but I selected you from our society’s computer. I wondered if you could meet me at Luigi’s bar in Bayswater tonight at eight forty-five?’

Her fingers tightened round the receiver and the palms of her hands felt damp. ‘Tonight? I’m not sure that I …’

‘It’s the only night that’s convenient for me,’ the voice continued smoothly.

It was an unusual voice, soft and yet clipped at the same time, and very grave, as though the owner was used to taking life seriously. Kristina wasn’t certain the man was English.

‘In that case I’d better say yes,’ she replied, realising that if she refused he would probably move on to someone else, and she was unwilling to pass up her first chance of a meeting.

‘Excellent. I look forward to making your acquaintance this evening. There won’t be a problem over recognition since I’ve seen your photograph in several magazines.’

Before she could respond to that the line went dead and for several seconds she sat holding the receiver as the dialling tone sounded in her ear. It had happened, she thought triumphantly. Her application had been accepted and now one of the members had sought her out, a man who had seen her photo and knew her line of work.

Reluctantly she replaced the phone and then sat staring into space. She’d been so on edge waiting for this call that now it had come she didn’t know what to do. She wondered how she should dress, and what they would talk about. She wondered if the man was handsome, and what he did for a living. But above all, she hoped with every fibre of her being that when it came to making love to her he’d know exactly what her body craved, know more about her than even she knew about herself.

‘Fool,’ she said sharply. ‘He’s only an ordinary man, just like other men. Don’t build your hopes up too high. Besides, you might never get as far as the bedroom. You might hate each other on sight.’ She hoped not. She’d liked the sound of his voice.

That evening, when she was dressing to go out, Kristina found herself totally unable to decide what to wear. She was glad that Ben wasn’t home – he’d had a late meeting and was going on to his squash club – otherwise he might have wondered at the amount of time she was spending choosing an outfit.

She couldn’t work out whether she should look the way the unknown man would expect her to look from the photos he’d seen, or go for an entirely different approach that was more suited to the society and all it involved. In the end she decided to dress as she would for a drink with a client. This man had chosen her for all the qualities he thought he’d seen in her picture and her comprehensive CV. He wouldn’t want her to look different or the reason for the attraction would be gone.

She settled on a striking bright fuchsia and grey two-piece. The skirt was plain grey, finishing an inch above her knees and with a front slit, while the jacket was fuchsia, nipped in at the waist and with a black and fuchsia collar that had a detachable bib inset. This disguised the depth of the collar. Without the bib most of her breasts would have been revealed. The overall effect was sharp and very striking.

Luigi’s wine bar was off Queensway and because the traffic was heavier than she’d expected, Kristina arrived two minutes late instead of the five minutes early that she’d planned. She’d wanted to be seated at the bar so that she could see all the men as they arrived. Now she guessed that the stranger, the man who might introduce her to the incredible world that Jacqueline had described, was probably already there.

Feeling far more self-conscious than usual, she walked through the doors and towards the bar. A man rose from one of the tables set in semi-darkness at the side of the room and blocked her way. ‘Kristina Masterton?’ he asked quietly, holding out his right hand.

Kristina felt her heart jump into her throat but she kept her voice steady as she too held out her hand. ‘That’s right. I’m sorry I’m a few minutes late.’

‘It doesn’t matter. The traffic was particularly heavy tonight.’

Again Kristina noted the carefully correct way he spoke, as though English was not his first language, and after he’d asked her what she’d like to drink and gone over to the bar she was able to study him properly for the first time.

He was about six feet tall with smooth golden-brown skin and very black hair that had a few streaks of grey. The hair was thick and wavy, swept back off his high forehead. He was wearing an expensive grey silk suit, crisp white shirt and a silver and grey tie and as he returned to their table she saw that he was solidly built with broad shoulders and well-defined muscles.

Sitting down he poured them each a glass of the Australian Chardonnay. ‘To our meeting,’ he said quietly, his deep-set dark eyes unsmiling.

Kristina felt slightly intimidated, but she smiled brightly at him. ‘To our meeting,’ she agreed, and sipped at the cool liquid.

Now that he was close to her she realised that his nose was slightly hooked and his top lip thin, but his lower lip was full, hinting at a sensuality that wasn’t obvious in the rest of his features, apart from his eyes.

His eyes were startling. They were the darkest eyes she’d ever seen, and so deep-set and shadowed that she couldn’t help thinking of a panda that she’d once seen at London Zoo, while his eyebrows were heavy and winged and his eyelids so dark that they looked almost grey.

‘Do I pass?’ he murmured.

Kristina felt herself blush. ‘I’m sorry, was I staring? I’m afraid my thoughts were miles away. It’s a bad habit of mine, people often think I’m looking at them when really I’m working out what I need to buy for supper!’

‘I would have thought your mind was more usually occupied with how many dollars you were likely to get for Lucretia Forrest’s next book at the American auction,’ he responded.

Kristina nodded approvingly. ‘Very good, you know who one of my clients is.’

‘I know all your clients,’ he assured her. ‘I know a great deal about your work, but very little about you yourself, which is why I thought we should have this meeting.’

‘What more do you need to know?’ asked Kristina with a smile. ‘After all, you already have the advantage. I know nothing at all about you, not even your name.’

For the first time since they’d met he smiled, and the sudden lightening of his features, the almost mischievous look that crossed his face, startled her. That smile changed him totally, opening up a vision of an entirely different man with a lightness and humour that she would never have expected. The contrast excited her, suggesting as it did that this was a very complex man.

‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I quite forgot that you didn’t know! I’m Tarquin Rashid, and I’m a psychologist.’

‘A psychologist!’

‘You’re surprised?’

Kristina nodded. ‘I thought psychologists were people who watched how others responded to members of the opposite sex, not people who ever got involved themselves!’

He shook his head slightly. ‘We’re the same as everyone else. We have the same desires, secrets and needs as anyone.’

His words changed the atmosphere. Kristina was suddenly acutely aware of her own needs and desires, and right now her most overwhelming desire was to be taken back to Tarquin’s home, given a bracelet to slip on and then to let him show her exactly what he meant by desires and secrets. As his golden-brown hand lifted his glass to his lips she found herself studying the sprinkling of dark hairs on his wrist and felt such a fierce need for him that it startled her.

‘I suppose you do,’ she managed to say, moistening her suddenly dry lips. ‘But it must make it difficult to lose yourself in emotions when you’re used to analysing them.’

‘Not at all. When I finish work I leave all that behind me,’ he assured her, but she didn’t totally believe him. His eyes were assessing her even as he spoke, and she felt certain that he spent most of his time analysing other people if not himself.

‘You’re not English,’ she commented.

‘No, a rather strange mixture of cultures I’m afraid. My father is Egyptian, my mother half-Tamil and half-English. What does that make me do you think?’

‘Interesting!’ laughed Kristina.

He nodded. ‘Yes.’ The word was abrupt but his deep-set eyes were placid.

‘Have you … belonged to the society very long?’ asked Kristina, uncertain as to whether or not she could mention the society.

‘No, not very long. You, I seem to remember, are a new member.’

Kristina nodded. ‘That’s right. A friend of mine told me about it.’

‘Yes, I think most of us join through word of mouth recommendation. I don’t suppose there’s any other way. They can hardly advertise!’ Once more he gave a sudden smile, and Kristina could imagine being willing to do almost anything in order to make him smile. Almost anything. She shivered at her own thoughts.

‘Were you born in London?’ he asked her as he refilled her glass.

‘No, Hampshire,’ she responded, and for the next twenty minutes he led her skilfully through a brief resume of her childhood, education and then her astonishingly quick rise to success as a literary agent. Only when she finally stopped talking did she realise quite how much she must have given away about herself, while Tarquin had said nothing at all about his life.

‘Your turn now,’ she said quickly.

He glanced at his watch. ‘Regretfully I have another appointment in twenty minutes, otherwise I would have been delighted to oblige you.’ He half-rose from his chair and extended his hand. ‘It’s been a very interesting meeting. Thank you for keeping the appointment.’

Kristina stared blankly at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. It seemed that the evening was over, and he’d given no indication at all that he found her in any way attractive or desirable, nor was he speaking as though they were going to meet again.

She wanted to ask him why. To beg him to see her again because she knew without any doubt that this was exactly the kind of man she’d hoped to meet through the society, but luckily her normal sense of self-worth took over and helped her control her emotions. She might be devastated, but she wasn’t going to show it.

‘It was interesting for me too, and if I hadn’t come I’d only have worked so it made a pleasant change.’

‘You work every evening?’ he queried.

Kristina forced herself to laugh. ‘Of course not! My boyfriend, Ben, is playing squash tonight. I usually work when he isn’t around. It’s a chance to catch up on my slush pile.’

‘Slush pile?’

She let her hand rest in his as she prepared to leave. ‘Don’t tell me that your research didn’t include slush piles! They’re the stuff of publishing nightmares, but just occasionally publishing dreams! Goodnight, Tarquin.’ It took a huge effort of will, but she managed to walk away from him and out of the wine bar without once looking back.

Once home, however, her composure snapped and she rushed to the phone to call Jacqueline. She was grateful that her friend was in for once.

‘Jackie, I’ve just had my first meeting since I joined the society. He was the most incredible man, really deep and serious but you felt that underneath there was this other, totally different person. I couldn’t believe my luck!’

‘I told you the system works well,’ laughed Jackie.

‘But it doesn’t!’ Kristina could hear the childlike wail in her voice. ‘I don’t think he fancied me at all. When we parted he never mentioned anything about meeting up again.’

‘Oh,’ said Jackie, suddenly subdued.

‘When you first met Laurence, did you arrange when you’d next meet?’

‘Well, to be honest we went straight back to his place that first time. He said later that he couldn’t wait to see me put the bracelet on, and I felt the same.’

‘So did I!’ exclaimed Kristina. ‘I kept imagining what it would be like to have him dictating my every move, touching me when and where he wanted, arousing me in ways I’d never known before and …’

‘Kristina, stop it!’ said Jacqueline crisply. ‘You can’t force him to feel the same.’

‘Can’t I do anything about another meeting? Do I have to leave it to him?’

‘Yes,’ said Jacqueline sadly. ‘That’s the whole point, don’t you see? The women are passive in this relationship. We can’t go and ask the men out like we do in our everyday lives. This is the society, and the men are in total control right from the moment you first meet.’

‘I wish I’d never heard of the society then!’ shouted Kristina, and she slammed down the phone.

When Ben got in later she was already in bed and pretended to be asleep. If she couldn’t feel Tarquin’s hands on her body, or give reign to her sensuality under his tuition, then she certainly didn’t want Ben anywhere near her tonight. But she could have cried from fury and frustration.