MICHAELShe has her bath, returning an hour or so later scented of lavender and rose. We drink, but not too much. We eat, sharing Charlotte's favourite treats; cheese, bread, olives, strawberries and cream. She sits on the rug by the fire, not hitting the food the way she normally does, but nonetheless, she eats.Then she sits, inert, leaning back against my legs as I stroke her hair.Over her head, James cocks a brow to me, tilts his head. I nod.He rises, takes Charlotte's hand and pulls her upright, then kisses the fingers. "You are going to go downstairs now, undress and wait for us. Michael and I will join you in a few minutes..." She hesitates... "And the next words I expect to hear from you are 'Yes, Master'."She bows her head. "Yes, Master.""Good." I pass her a glass of Rioja... "Now, drink your wine... And I want you to have another glass after that."*****Downstairs, in the basement, James' 'playroom', the demesnes of a Master, she's waiting for us. As he
JAMESI've often tested her before; tested her limits, tested how far I can take her before pain-pleasure simply becomes pain. But I've never before set out to take her completely to the edge and, perhaps, just a little beyond.But this time, on this occasion, I want her to travel out from the real world and into that heady space where pain and pleasure merge into sensation and where the mind and body ride the whirlwind together.Michael has relaxed her. And he's right. She's arousing. Her perfume is rising and there's that sheen to her skin she gets; the flush over her breasts which rises over her pale swan neck to blush her cheeks.She's ready...From behind, I lick at her with the falls; soft and suede-like, the best kind. Supple and elastic, the leather kisses skin and bites at muscle. She mewls, but it's not in distress. I know her better than that. At the same moment, her pelvis twitches...How does that feel to you, Green-Eyes?Is it a kind of penetration...?...
A cop in blue uniform enters the bar. "Would you be Angelo?"The barman pauses in swiping a towel through a glass, brow wrinkling. "That's me, yes. Something I can do for you?""I'm looking for a woman who frequents here. Goes by the name of Mitch."The brow uncreases, his expression flattening. "Mitch? Barely seen her the last few weeks.""When did you last see her?"Angelo pays strict attention to his polishing. "Couldn't say." His cloth works tight circles over the glass.Taking off his sunglasses, the cop props elbows on the bar. "We know that she hangs out here, soliciting."The circles slow. "She never did any soliciting that I saw. I mean, she knew how to pull a guy, but that's different altogether isn't it? Nothing illegal there." The barman bends to his work again, concentrating on some ingrained speck on perfectly polished glass.The cop drums fingers on the bar-top, saying nothing; the kind of silence that sucks out the words. After a minute, the drumming mor
In the privacy of his own apartment, Bech, beer in hand, he cracks off the cap against the edge of the table then, leaning back on the chair, swings his boots up onto the top.A swallow of the beer and then he riffles through the card index, brows rising at some of the names: Taking a card at random, he reads:Alex BergermanAccountant. Interested in stocks. Wife 2 kids boy + girlLikes corsets, big hair. Gets off on dirty talkA pencilled note at the bottom of the card: Ask him about the Planet Levanti merger. Good investment?Flipping the card over, Bech checks the back: a list of a dozen or so dates about a month apart. Each partnered with a money amount.Payments to the whore?He sucks in his cheeks, then digging the filofax from his pocket, checks the most recent date. Then the previous one. He grins.He takes another random card, Daimon CrevierBanker. Unmarried. Nerd: model trains. Talker. Likes flattery and headWith a smile that has nothing to do with
Mitch sits on the cold slab. Eyes red-rimmed, hugging herself, she rocks on the seat.The door clangs open."You..." The officer says no more, simply thumbing out of the door.Out in the office the lawyer, Theo, stands waiting. Dark-suited, briefcase in hand, he regards Mitch without expression. "Miss Kimberley."The duty officer jabs a finger at a sheet. "Sign."Her eyes rise. "What's happening?"Theo says, "You've been bailed, but you and I need a talk. On behalf of Mr Devlin.""Please, I need to talk with Max himself."Curtly, "Mr Devlin does not want to talk to you, Miss Kimberley. He is a very busy man. He accepted your call and assigned me out to assist you. That is the extent of his involvement with you." He sniffs. "I'll not presume to guess why he did that much." He turns, picks up his briefcase."Mr Aldred, please, just call him. I have to speak to him. Please...""Is it to do with this case?""Yes... No... Yes... It's not what it looks like. I don't tak
The club is dark and sleazy, like most of its customers; perhaps denizens would be a better description. Occupied by the lost and those wishing to be so, the unwanted and the unwantable, it caters to those not wanting to be noticed by the passing world, or those the passing world will perhaps see, but then look away from.The bouncer looks askance at the blue uniform, moving from his spot in front of a luridly coloured poster of young women of unlikely proportions and appeal. He stands to block the entrance, then jolts back as he recognizes the face at the top. "Sorry, Corby. Didn't realise it was you for a minute there." "'S fine Pat. Just let me through.""You expected?""Yup.""Should I send ahead?""Nope."Inside, Corby grimaces at the mix of sweat, smoke and stale air. Sweeping a view through a blue haze over the hunched shoulders of solo drinkers, past the gawpers ogling the stripper under the spotlight, he settles on the shadowed nooks at the far end of the bar.
CHARLOTTEWe park up. Some distance away, there is movement in an area I know only too well. A man in a hi-vis jacket and hard hat moves with purpose, setting up a theodolite; one of the modern 'total stations' with EDM and GPS. However the new park is laid out, the exact position of Blessingmoors will never be lost. Even if it were under a retail complex or a sports centre or a car park, it could be found again...... if needed..."What's happening?""They're about to move in with the earthmovers again and finish the demolition process." He scans the area, settling on the portable site office squatting on its trailer amid mud, stacks of black piping, spools of blue piping, pallets and paraphernalia. "I need a word with Sam. I'll not be long." He hands me a file, then waves out over the sea of rocky debris and once-were-roads. "Outline plans for the park. You can entertain yourself lining it up with the reality. I'll come find you."He moves off in search of the site foreman.
Mitch sits by the window, staring out at the world. She tries to read but can't concentrate. She watches daytime TV; quiz and game shows, crap soaps and re-runs. Two minutes later, she can't remember any of what she just watched.She has only the clothes she arrived wearing, so she settles in bed, trying to sleep. After twelve hours she can sleep no more and yet, gritty-eyed, feels as though she never rested at all.No-one calls.How long has it been?Have they forgotten her?At least here, she's safe.Passively, beyond thinking, she waits.Two days later, the phone rings. She gazes dead-eyed at the ceiling for a moment before registering what the sound is.She reaches from the depths of the bed. "Hello?""Mitch, it's Theo. Max is sending a taxi to bring you to our offices. Be at the front door in twenty minutes."*****The receptionist is much friendlier than the first time she visited the offices. "Mr Devlin is expecting you, Miss Kimberley. Go straight in. Tea