ON THE TRAM going home, Lily stared out of the window. A casual observer would have assumed that she was watching the scenery, but someone more astute might have noticed that her hands kept fluttering back and forth over the wrapped parcel in her lap, as though with pride or guilty pleasure. Lily was not quite sure what had possessed her to buy the pair of exquisite black kid evening gloves. But buy them she had. They rested in the wrapped box on her lap, folded between layers of violet tissue paper. She was not a frivolous young woman, nor one given to acting on a whim. Indeed she prided herself on her common sense and level-headedness, two qualities which made her indispensable as upstairs maid to Lady Eleanor Soames. Even now she was tempted to get off at the next tram stop and retrace her steps to the Royal Emporium, there to hurry through the fashionable new store with its glass display cases and glittering lights, and ask to exchange the package for something more practical. W
I HAD HEARD of them, of course. Grace Jones had herself been portrayed as a peep-show entertainer for a publicity campaign to promote an album, some years back now. My lover and I had made love often to one track -‘Warm Leatherette’. But I had never seen a real peep-show. In fact, I didn’t know if they still existed or were some sort of throw-back to the Sixties, like Betty Page and Tit Bits magazine. I had to admit that I was shocked by my lover’s suggestion. “You mean actually go to one of those places?’ I couldn’t believe he was serious.A friend had told me that he’d been to one of those peep-hole affairs while on holiday in Europe. He said laughingly that someone had actually been vacuuming the little cubicle while the girl on the turntable postured and pouted for the customers! But that was Europe. I didn’t think we in Britain could ever be so dismissive about sex. ‘Paying to watch women expose themselves. It’s so. . . seedy,’ I said, imagining the unsavoury darkened booths,
MISTRESS CHARITY PENN set down the pail of slops and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. The sun beat down overhead and trickles of ‘perspiration ran down her armpits and soaked into the top of her stays. Inside her woollen stockings her legs itched and prickled, but she dared not leave off the garments. Someone would be bound to notice her bare ankles. Inside the stockade there was a rich stew of odours — wood smoke, roasting meat, horse dung, and the acrid stench from the tannery. In the stifling heat of the Virginia summer, the air was filled with the sound of toil as the settlers went about their daily work. In their black clothes, relieved only at collar and cuff by starched white lace, they looked like so many magpies. Charity sighed, picked up the pail and continued on her way to the pig pen. Outside one of the square wooden houses, Jacob Hawkins was chopping wood, his shirt-sleeves rolled up to reveal brawny forearms. At the sight of his broad shoulders and narrow
Sarah seemed to empathise with her. ‘You need to see something for yourself, then you will understand what I speak of. When you leave here, do not go back across the cornfield, but make a wide circle and enter the settlement by the postern gate.’ ‘Why?’ Sarah smiled sagely. ‘You'll find out. Only remember not to judge too harshly. Learn from what you will see. I am giving you knowledge. Use it as you will, but do not abuse that knowledge. You will understand what I mean later.’ When Charity took her leave of Sarah, a short time later, she was still puzzled. Whatever could she expect to learn by simply taking a walk through the forest? She shrugged, trusting in Sarah’s integrity. As she walked she swung her bonnet and lace cap against her full skirts. The rhythm was soothing and dulled her into a mood of relaxation. Before long, she found herself enjoying the beauty of the forest. Many of the leaves were tinged with the yellow and russet which presaged the approaching fall. Dappled
SYNOPSIS Kate has a hunger that just won't stop, an appetite that demands to be fed - whether at her chauvinistic City firm, or at the château of a new French client ...CHAPTER 1‘KATE ...?'‘I know.’ Steven flinched. Know? How could she know? They never knew until he told them. That was his way. He felt, for a moment, that he was losing control. He swung on his heel and looked at his reflection in the mirror. The sight pleased him and he frowned slightly: not because he saw any flaws, but because frowning, he knew, suited him. Kate, on the other side of the room, also frowned — but at the flaws that were now etched in her memory for ever. Then, with strong, confident strides, she walked round the bed and stopped, beside Steven, in front of the full-length mirror. They stood there, looking yet not looking at each other. Steven, accustomed to summoning his feelings when he wanted, began to experience the rare and unwelcome sensation of embarrassment. Kate’s face bore no hint of th
KATE SAT IN the tube and thought about herself in relation to her fellow passengers. Did they, she wondered, have any idea of what sort of person she was? She thought not. Looking around her, she smiled to herself. Definitely not. This was, after all, Monday morning and, in time-honoured fashion, all the other passengers — most of them men — had their heads buried in their newspapers. And most of the newspapers were pink. Kate too had a pink newspaper folded on her lap, but she hadn’t yet opened it. She was too busy thinking. She had spent most of Sunday thinking as well. Just thinking. Since that last evening with Steven and the night at the opera, she had been thinking that she could be anything she chose to be. She had opened herself up to her feelings and, displaying herself to be a blatantly sexual being, she had reaped results. A total stranger had noticed her, had evidently wanted her, yet his methods had been as enigmatic as his whole demeanour had suggested. He had given her
The room was vast. It was also boiling hot —a welcome contrast to the rest of the chateau. An open fire was roaring in the grate, and two radiators beneath the enormous windows were belting out even more heat. The fact that the room was largely painted red added to the impression of an inferno. Kate shrugged off her coat and sat on the edge of the bed. It was king-sized. She smiled. Would she need this bed? Who did the comtesse think she was going to share it with? Half an hour later, Kate descended to the salon. The others were already assembled. The comtesse, again elegant, rushed forward and took Kate’s hands. Kate nearly flinched: the comtesse’s own hands were freezing, yet she didn’t look cold. She was wearing an ice-blue strapless dress that fell simply and beautifully all the way to her feet. Her blonde hair was tied in a chic French plait and her eyes — the same colour as her dress ~again bored into Kate’s. ‘Come and meet,’ she said, ‘our other guests.’ Then she shrugged almo
“Tell me,’ she said in a low tremor, ‘about your paintings. Why do you hide them?’ Nero’s fingers were now playing with her nipples. ‘I hide them because we open the chateau to the public.’ He bent his head to her ear. ‘Even the French public would find them hard to digest, don’t you think?’ Kate opened her eyes. Nero’s dark brows and piercing black eyes were barely inches from her own. ‘I think they would find them beautiful.’ She shook as Nero’s hand descended from her breasts to her stomach and then, agonisingly slowly, towards her sex. Kate had become hardly aware of the fact that he had managed to disrobe her completely. ‘The flowers,’ she continued through gritted teeth, ‘are beautiful.’ Nero’s voice seemed to become deeper. ‘I agree,’ he whispered. ‘The nénuphar is the most beautiful flower of all.’ As he spoke his hand found her clitoris and began to massage the erect, erotic stem. Then his fingers encircled the rosebud pink petals of her sex-lips and began, with excruciati
‘I'm off to bed,’ Harriet told Rowena. ‘It was a lovely evening.’ Rowena peered at her through the smoke of one of her rare cigarettes. ‘Did you enjoy it? You don’t look very happy.’ ‘I’m just tired. I’m not used to such late hours!’ ‘Have you seen my brother?’ ‘Chris went into the garden,’ Harriet told her. Rowena smiled. ‘He's drunk too much. I'll say goodnight to Lewis for you; he’s busy right now.’ The woman with her laughed. ‘He certainly is. Marita keeps most men busy. She nearly killed my husband last year!’ Rowena’s laughter joined her friend’s and Harriet fled upstairs, certain that they were secretly mocking her. She lay awake until six in the morning but Lewis didn’t join her, and she guessed then that the story must have been true and Marita had kept him busy. At first she wept, but then she told herself that crying was useless. A man like that was bound to be used to casual affairs — what she had to do was make herself indispensable to him, no matter what was nece
FOR THE NEXT two nights Lewis spent hours in either Harriet’s or his own room, bringing her time and again to the heights of ecstasy she had come to expect from him, and every time she climaxed, every time he taught her something new, she was bound more closely to him. The fact that he was slowly being bound more closely to her was something Lewis chose to ignore. Then, on the Saturday, everything changed. Harriet had been surprised to be invited to the dinner party, and had cancelled her planned evening with Ella because she didn’t want to miss the chance of a genuine film star’s party. Ella green with envy, had understood but demanded a full report in exchange for being let down. ‘I want to hear all about what Rowena wore, ate, drank and how she behaved,’ she told Harriet. ‘Of course. I'll tell you about Lewis too.’ ‘I’m sure you will,’ said Ella, who already had her suspicions about Harriet and the star's husband. When they finally sat down to dinner, Harriet found that she wa
Lewis’s own erection had now subsided but at the sight of Harriet being aroused to new and only dimly understood heights, he felt himself start to stir again. As the startling feelings continued to grow, Harriet’s breasts began to ache and after only a slight hesitation she reached up, drawing Lewis’s head down towards her. ‘Tell me what you want,’ he murmured. ‘My breasts,’ she moaned, thrusting them up towards his mouth. “They ache.’ ‘And what do you want me to do about it?’ he teased. Harriet didn’t know if she could tell him, but the insistent clamouring of her needy flesh won over her deeply ingrained reticence at vocalising her desires. ‘Suck them for me, Lewis, please.’ ‘Hard or soft?’ he asked, his hand still continuing its pressing movements and his finger drawing up the clitoral hood as he worked so that he could brush lightly across the top of the exposed nub. ‘Hard!’ she begged, her body now nothing but a pressurised aching need for the final stimuation that would a
THAT EVENING CHRIS and Rowena went to the opera. Lewis hated opera. ‘Good music spoilt by bad acting,’ was his opinion and nothing he saw ever made him change his mind. After they'd gone he went in search of Harriet and found her reading a book in the comfort of the drawingroom. ‘We've got the house to ourselves,’ he said with a smile. ‘How would you like a nice bath? We can use the tub in Rowena’s bathroom - it’s meant for two.’ Harriet lifted her eyes from the page. ‘I had a shower this morning, thanks.’ For a moment Lewis couldn’t believe he’d heard her correctly. “You don’t have to be dirty,’ he said with a laugh. ‘It’s meant to be a sensual pleasure.’ Harriet smiled in an absent-minded way. ‘I’m sure it would be, but I’m a bit tired tonight.’ Since nothing in his imaginary script had prepared Lewis for this he was totally at a loss. ‘I'd like it,’ he said slowly. ‘Doesn’t that matter to you?’ With a soft sigh Harriet put the book to one side. ‘Of course it does, Lewis, but
Harriet felt that she was going to explode. Her body was being racked by liquid fire and then the incessant drumming of the pulse between her legs changed to a startlingly intense tingling that felt hot and rushed upwards through her with terrifying speed. She shouted out loud, knowing that she could no longer keep her body still even to please this man who meant so much to her. At the sound Lewis moved his fingers to the side of her clitoris and rubbed the slippery tissue with tiny circular motions as he moved in and out of her, his own body straining for relief from the continuous sexual tension as much as Harriet’s. It was Harriet who came first and as her body went taut with the first fierce contractions of her orgasm her vaginal walls contracted tightly around Lewis so that she felt as though she was milking him. She heard him groan and then he was thrusting without thought for her, thrusting solely to give himself the satisfaction that he knew Harriet was about to get. Harri
LEWIS STARED AT Harriet, hiding his anger behind a mask of indifference. Inwardly he was raging, not only at the fact that she had come into the room uninvited but also at his own stupidity in allowing Rowena to persuade him to make love to her at a time when he should have been concentrating solely on Harriet. ‘Rowena will be with you in a moment,’ he said smoothly, his arousal dissipating at great speed. Harriet’s eyes were wide and she stared at her employer as Rowena, ignoring the younger woman's presence, continued to move herself up and down on Lewis until with a cry of pleasure her body gave itself over to the warm flooding joy of orgasm. Harriet knew that she should leave the room but her legs seemed unable to move. She stayed rooted to the spot watching Rowena’s total abandonment to her sexuality. She felt almost consumed by envy, having spent most of her waking hours imagining what her next sexual encounter with Lewis would be like. Now she was forced to face the fact tha
Harriet was shocked by his casual acceptance of what they’d seen. Rowena was his wife, and even an open marriage didn’t usually include letting your wife have sex with her half-brother. She decided he was simply good at hiding his emotions, and that this was the only way he could cope with the situation. She was wrong. Lewis was drawn to Rowena sexually; like most men he admired her body and found her sexual magnetism alluring, but emotionally he was untouched by her. Their marriage had suited him as much as it suited her. The joining together of his analytical, muchadmired director's brain and her renowned sexuality and beauty had attracted almost as much attention in Hollywood as Marilyn Monroe’s marriage to Arthur Miller. Looking into the bedroom again, Harriet realised that Rowena’s first priority didn’t seem to be freedom from her bonds so much as freedom from her frustration, for once she failed to loosen her wrists she got to her feet and stood in front of one of the bed-post
WHEN LEWIS LED Harriet into a tiny room two doors down the landing from his bedroom she thought first that she was in a cupboard, but as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness she realised that it had originally been intended as a dressing room, although the adjoining door had now been filled in. There was little furniture there, only a high backed chair and a two-seater settee in front of a square window, which let in no light at all. She turned to Lewis in bewilderment. ‘What is this room?’ ‘Sit here next to me on the sofa and look carefully at the window,’ he said softly. Puzzled, she stared at the glass, and after a few seconds realised that she was looking into a distinctly feminine bedroom lavishly decorated in various shades of lilac. As she watched, a figure crossed her line of vision, and she saw Rowena walking totally naked from her adjoining bathroom back to her bed. Harriet ducked down and Lewis laughed. ‘She can’t see you, it’s a two-way mirror.’ ‘You mean, anyone
Every nerve in Harriet’s body seemed to be alive now. She was trembling with excitement and frantic for more intimate touches but when she reached for his hand to try and move it where she wanted he shook his head. ‘It’s better to wait,’ he assured her. In the adjoining room Chris felt his own breathing quicken. Lewis was playing her with consummate skill, and her restlessly moving legs and upthrusting young breasts were testimony to her arousal. He himself was hard, and longed to be allowed to join in, to take the girl in the ways that he liked, the ways that kept Rowena enthralled. He was surprised by his reaction. Normally he would simply have wanted Rowena more than ever, but he knew that he was going to have to have Harriet before too long. At last Lewis took pity on Harriet and lightly kneaded some of the lotion into each of her breasts in turn. He heard her breath catch in her throat and her eyes were grateful. Then, to Harriet’s surprise, he moved himself up the bed so that