Grace gives my hand a quick double pat. Then, measuring out her words, "Did you know that…" She pauses, as though wondering if she should continue… "Did you know that Irene had… a… thing… for Richard herself, when they were younger?"I do a quick mental stagger. "She did?"She clicks her tongue. "Oh, yes." She clicks again. "Actually, she was pretty free and easy with all the boys, but she tried harder with Richard.""Boys? When was this?""Schooldays. But while your Richard and my Will both attended the local high school, Irene and her upwardly mobile cronies were sent to a ladies' college, learning how to behave."Why didn't he tell me this?"So, what happened?""As Will tells it to me, Irene and her gang of friends hung around the flicks and the burger bars making cows eyes at the boys they fancied. Irene targeted Richard. And 'cause he was a teenage kid runnin' on hormones and hope, he went for it.""Went for it? So… how far did it go?""Not very far. Irene's father spotted them to
How long do I have to be polite to this bitch?"Excuse me, madam." The waiter behind me, with the first course.All aside from giving me the excuse to ignore Irene, it smells divine. Some kind of soup, creamy and fishy, sprinkled with parsley, and thick enough to qualify as a stew. I reach for a spoon, then…Damn…The place in front of me is set out left and right, with battalions of cutlery. And now that I look, four different wine glasses are ranked to my right.Uncertain, I turn to my Master, but he is distracted, talking to Chancellor Wilmore across the table. As I hesitate, Irene watches. Heat pricks at my cheeks.Something nudges at me, Grace's elbow in my ribs. Behind a napkin, out of Irene's line of sight, she wriggles fingers, then picks up the rightmost item, a spoon. Dipping into her soup at twelve o'clock on the dish, she drags the base of the spoon over the rim, clearing the drips. Bringing the spoon up to her lips, she sips from the edge.Watching from the corner of my ey
Winking, I tilt my glass toward my Master.His eyes crease and he makes as though to move toward me, then is interrupted by some guy in a suit tapping him on the arm. He throws me a look of apology, then plasters on an expression of polite interest as he ducks his head to listen.Retreating as best I can into a neighbouring recess, I watch the mill and whirl of people, some obviously making small talk, some in vociferous argument. The band play on the stage. In fact, they're not bad and after a few moments, I find myself humming along, swinging my glass in time with the music.After a minute, it dawns that I'm not the only one in my lurking spot. A young woman stands to one side of me. Early twenties maybe, very blonde, very pretty, she's watching me in a wasn't-watching-really sort of way.I nod her way. "Hi.""Hi. You're, um… You're Beth Haswell, aren't you?""That's right.""I saw you under the spotlight earlier. Belle of the ball. Why are you hiding back here?""Because I was under
Back at our table, we sip at liqueurs, nibble at slivers of mint chocolate. "It's late," says my Master. "Time for us to say goodnight."Will rises. "Goodnight, Richard." He stoops to kiss my cheek. "Good night, Beth. I'll be in touch next week about the next stage of the project."Irene's brow furrows…I rise, returning the cheek kiss. "I'll have something for you later in the week, Will. To first draft level, at least."… and her eyes narrow. She mutters furiously at her husband, who merely shrugs her away. And my Master hasn't missed any of it. His gaze flicks this way and that; me, Irene, her husband; but he appears calm.Grace too, takes me at the shoulder as we exchange kisses. "It was lovely to meet you, Beth. We should all get together for dinner sometime.""I'd like that." But I'm already reaching for my Master's proffered hand. "Good night, everyone."As we cross the floor to the elevator, although his expression is steady, his lips are pinched. The doors swish open, then clo
"Let's see if we can do better than good."Fingers still assault my clit, but the palm shifts. Flat against my belly, it presses hard, but behind me, my Master moves, grinding in, rotating his hips, the exquisite hardness of his penis corkscrewing into my G-spot. Robbed of my voice, I can only gasp and whimper and shudder.The Rush is coming. The shimmer inside. The pressure like no other. Welling up from somewhere deep. Like heat. Like electricity. Like tension. It radiates from my core, swirling out, winding and twisting as my Master winds and twists his body into mine.The heat soars. The electricity sparks and fizzes. The tension hums like ropes vibrating in the wind.My climax mushrooms, then skyrockets, then starbursts.My body tries to break free, tries to buck and spasm, but the grip around me tightens, and the relentless winding pressure inside me only surges. Harder. Faster. More powerful.Pulse upon ecstatic pulse undulates through me, taking my mind and my sight with it.I
"Something wrong, Master?"His attention jolts toward me and the frown evaporates, replaced with a smile. "It's nothing, my Love." Tapping off the screen, he straightens up, sliding the tablet aside. The smile broadens, creasing up into his eyes. "My apologies. I shouldn't do this at breakfast, should I. A time when we should be enjoying each other's company. Talking together. I have an entire workday in the office to deal with my messages. Oh…"… He raises a finger… "… On the subject of talking, that girl from the newspaper you hit it off with at the charity gala. Schmidt's niece. Claudia was it? She's sent me the article she wrote after that impromptu interview you set up between us."He re-opens the tablet, tapping through screens until a page of text opens up, then slides it across the table to me... "… This is what she's sent in for my approval."I speed-scan the contents… Mr Haswell spoke at length on the responsibilities of the wealthy and the privileged to employ their wealth
Should I have the locks changed?No… find out what she's been doing first…There's only so many ways in and out of the house.So, I set myself to wait. And watch.*****And there she is, heading for the gate, my housekeeper's vehicle, a white van, crunching over the gravelled drive at less than a walking pace.To make no sound?She's sneaking out?Sprinting back down the stairs, I snatch keys from the hall table, dashing past my startled Master… "Eliza…"But I'm gone.In the garage, Ross, his feet up on a table, marks something onto a crossword puzzle. My Master's BMW gleams beside my own, much smaller and more modest, model. "Ross, my car. Quick!""Beth?" He sounds as startled as my Master."She's getting away!""Who?""Mrs Martin!"He swings up, grabbing at keys. "Let me drive. You can navigate.""No navigation. Just follow her van." Gravel sprays as, jaw set, Ross swerves us down the drive and out. "You know there's something going on, don't you?"He grimaces. "I don't know anything
Winter jasmine blooms brilliant yellow behind the glossy red stalks of a stand of dogwood. Snowdrops peek out at the base, promising a spring still several weeks away. But despite the earliness of the year, sunshine has thawed the frost and, armed with boots, gloves and woollens, the garden is a winter paradise.Claudia, notebook in hand, has arrived with an arsenal of questions, obviously picking up from her previous conversation with my Master. The garden itself provides a cue."It's a gorgeous house and the garden is beautiful. You must feel very… privileged… to live in such a lovely home." She swallows hard, holding up her phone to demonstrate it is set to Record. "May I?"My Master slants a look her way. "You may."Inhaling, he pauses, then continues. "Yes, you are quite correct. I am indeed privileged. And the privileged have a vast range of options when it comes to how they make use of their wealth. That wealth can be used for necessities… The basics of life… Or for personal ben