He decided to
torment her for keeping him in the dark. 'I don't think I'll bring
you off,' he said, his tongue lapping the rim of her ear, and he
part removed his hand from her pussy.
'Damn you...'
she groaned. 'Why not?'
'You don't
trust me enough to tell me the password, so why should I bother to
treat you to an orgasm?'
'Oh, pooh... don't be like that. You know I'd have told you
sooner or later.' She seized him by the wrist and rubbed herself
against his hand. 'Have it, then, but don't let anyone else know.
It's
Incagold
. No
space between. All one word.'
'My lips are
sealed,' he promised, and massaged her briskly.
A few moments
later, after she had come quietly, clinging to him, she whispered
huskily close to his mouth, 'You know, there's nothing like a bit
of sharp dealing to rouse the libido...'
Arlene grabbed
the phone on the bedside table. 'Yes? Who is it? D'you know what
the bloody time is?'
'It's me -
Will,' she heard him say.
'Where the
hell are you? What's happening?' She was so agitated she pushed
away Eugene's hand, which had snaked around to cradle her pubis.
'You woke me up, you bastard, and I'd only just got off to sleep.
Hell, I've been crying ever since I got back from that fashion
fiasco.'
'This is important. I'm at the
Majestic
with Theona Blue.'
'You what?'
She could feel curiosity seeping through her anger and pain.
Eugene, curled against her back, spoon-fashion, continued to fondle
her bush, and she couldn't help easing her buttocks towards him.
His dick was erect, yet again.
'I've spent
the evening with Theona Blue. It's been most enlightening. She
knows Vincent Gabor, or rather, did know him. I think we've got a
lead on him. We've got to talk about this. Where's Julia?'
'I don't know.
She hadn't come in by the time we went to bed.'
'We?'
'Eugene and
me, if it's any of your business.'
'Look, I'll be here all night, at the
Majestic
. This is my number,' and he
reeled off a sequence of digits belonging to his mobile.
'I think I
already have it somewhere, but hang on, let me take it down again,'
Arlene said, fumbling for her notepad and pen, always kept handy in
case she got inspired in the night or wanted to jot down her
dreams.
'Call me when
she arrives,' he went on. 'It's important, Arlene. She may be in
danger.'
He rang off
and, swearing, she flung back the duvet and climbed out of bed.
Eugene, his soot-dark eyes heavy with sleep, said, 'Who was that?
What's rattled your cage, babe?'
'It was Will,'
she said grumpily. 'It's all right for some; seems he's knocking
off Theona Blue. I was hoping Julia was with him, but it seems
she's still at Abbey Reach. I hope she's all right.' She frowned
and padded to the door, her slender spine part covered by her
tangled mane.
'Come back to
bed,' Eugene urged, and lifted his side of the cover to display a
penis that was impressively full and stiff.
Upset though
she was, still wanting to emasculate Marty Blake, her body
responded to the sight. Eugene was a gem. He had taken her home and
treated her tenderly, listened to her ranting and held her while
she gave vent to a storm of angry, frustrated tears. She was
growing fond of him, and this in itself scared her. Caring meant
commitment, and she'd had her fingers burnt before.
But that cock!
It seemed to beckon, luring her with promises of fulfilment. She
enjoyed women and vibrators, but there was nothing quite like a
healthy, upright penis. Especially if it belonged to a thoroughly
nice man, like Eugene.
'You did well
at the show,' Marty Blake said, sitting on the side of Vincent
Gabor's spectacular bed, helping himself to coffee and eyeing Julia
speculatively.
'The show or
the party?' she asked sleepily.
'Both,' he
said, with a lop-sided grin. 'You made a stunning bride.'
'I enjoyed
it,' she said, moving her bottom carefully. It seemed to be on
fire, scored by the marks of the riding crop with which Vincent had
chastised her prior to her penetration by Lopez's out-sized dick.
But it had been worth it. When the party was over, Vincent had
taken her to this splendid room and there, amidst silk sheets, she
had known the greatest pleasure as he satisfied, then took her.
Now the maid
had brought her breakfast on a tray, but hardly had she time to
explore the buttered toast and marmalade, orange juice and steaming
coffee pot, before Marty Blake came in without a by-your-leave.
'I shall use
you again,' he said. 'Kevin's coming along in a while to fix up a
photo shoot. You'd be free to come to Bermuda at a moment's notice?
That's where we'll be filming next summer's range.'
'Why, yes, I
suppose so.' Julia's mind was working overtime, brushing away the
languor of a sexy night. She wasn't sure what steps to take next,
needing direction from Arlene and Will.
'That's
great,' Blake said, putting down his cup and sliding closer to her.
'I can see that we're going to make a first-class team. I've not
forgotten the fun we had at lunchtime not so long ago. Let's do it
again, now.' He unzipped quickly and got out his cock. 'Suck that,'
he ordered.
A refusal
would have risked incurring the spiteful man's wrath and raised
suspicions.
He shifted
position, lying on his back, fully clothed except for his naked
spear pointing upwards from his flies. Though it cost her in pain
from her tender weals, Julia leaned over him, cupped his balls in
one hand and gripped the base of his cock with the other. He
groaned as she slowly rubbed it, and his helm reared up, shining
wetly. Julia lowered her head till her face was level with his
prick, then she opened her mouth and slid down over the glans,
working her tongue round it in little, exciting sweeps. He dug his
fingers into her hair, and she remembered Gus, the first man she
had ever tasted in this way. This spurred her to greater efforts,
and she sank down till his tip was at the back of her throat, then
she drew out again till it rested on her lips. In and out, the ebb
and flow of feeling rippling down his shaft.
She
temporarily forgot that he was the fiend Arlene accused of stealing
her designs, and that she was supposed to be helping her and
nailing him. The touch and taste of him, the scent of his skin,
seduced her. Vincent had left her early, left her still turned on
when she had hoped he would be there, but Marty Blake would do
instead. Her mind and emotions said no, but her wanton body said
yes.
'Don't stop,'
he grated, his nails abrading her scalp.
She glanced
up, and was overwhelmed with excitement to see the expression on
his face. He looked like a saint undergoing martyrdom. She had the
power to do this to him. She felt omnipotent, the earth goddess
incarnate. Let him and Vincent be two unprincipled schemers; at
that moment she didn't care. She could be selfish too, deliberately
pushing thoughts of Arlene from her mind.
Then the door
opened, and she glanced round to see Kevin mincing across the
carpet. His thin face was flushed, his eyes outraged. 'Marty, I've
been looking all over for you!' he cried, halting by the bed. 'As
for you, bitch,' he added, and if looks could have killed she'd
have been dead. 'Haven't you got enough men sniffing round you
without wanting him, too? I call that greedy!'
'Get out of
here,' Blake said, unfazed by being discovered on the point of
ejaculation.
'I won't,' Kevin stated, uncharacteristically defiant.
'Tell
her
to go
away, if anyone. I thought we were going to discuss photos with
her, and this didn't include ones of her slurping on your
todger.'
Julia slipped
away from Blake, swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress as
far from Kevin as she could. 'It's all right,' she said, spreading
her hands placatingly. 'I don't want to be taking up anyone's
space. You're welcome to him, Kevin. Take him, with my blessing.'
And she knew that what she was saying was how she truly felt. Her
brain was no longer between her legs. She wanted out of there,
eager to get away from the creeps and talk things over with her
fellow conspirators.
'Get into
Blake's studio,' Arlene said, pacing the sitting room in a state of
great agitation.
'And how am I
supposed to do that?' Julia asked, feeling guilty because only that
morning she had been sucking his cock, when Arlene obviously wanted
to cut it off.
'I don't
know,' Arlene snapped, on the edge. 'Use your ingenuity.'
'Can't you profess an exaggerated admiration of his work?'
Will suggested. 'Cajole him into letting you try on the
Queen of the Night
outfit,
and express a burning desire to see the sketches from which it was
designed. Dammit, you're a female, aren't you? Up to all sorts of
wiles?' Although his words were caustic, they lacked any real bite
when he addressed them to Julia.
'I'll try,'
she promised. She sipped her cup of milky tea and was suddenly
weary of the investigation, which had turned out to be so different
from what she had expected.
'Denise is
waiting for a result,' Will reminded.
'All right,
I'll tackle Blake,' she said, trying to keep the stress from her
voice. It was all getting too much.
'You better
had,' Arlene retorted, then added a grim rider, 'It's Gabor we want
to nail as much as Blake. What he's done is child's play compared
to Gabor's heinous crimes. He's dealing in drugs and arms and
laundering the loot through his other businesses, chief of which is
the clothing industry, including sponsoring Blake.'
'That's evil,'
Julia murmured, and her feelings of shame and guilt multiplied. She
didn't know much about high finance, politics or illegal
trafficking, and found it hard to relate such a charismatic man
with trade in arms abroad, and the importation of drugs known to do
insuperable harm to the unfortunates hooked on them.
'He is evil,'
Will agreed. 'I didn't realise how bad until I'd started to become
involved in this latest carry on.'
'And you say
we're being helped by Theona Blue?' Julia asked, with a puzzled
frown. She remembered the singer vividly.
'That's right.
We've got a way into Gabor's private computer system. She's offered
to get into Abbey Reach with the aid of her passkey and have a poke
about on his PC.'
Julia's eyes
roamed the familiar room with its old but now fashionable furniture
and knick-knacks. Aunt Mary had never thrown anything away, and the
relics of bygone eras occupied places on the mantelpiece, the tops
of cupboards, and the glass-fronted shelves on either side of the
marble fireplace. There were Royal Doulton figurines of garlanded
cupids; shepherds and shepherdesses; spooky slender hands formed of
white porcelain, moulded from those of the deceased; intricate silk
flowers under glass domes, and a conservatory with wicker chairs,
aspidistras and cacti.
It was a
monstrous white elephant, but Julia loved it and never wanted to
sell up and move. She had modernised the kitchen and had a TV
installed in the sitting room, along with a video machine and her
sound system. The ancient piano with its carved frame and
candleholders positioned each side of the music-rest, stood against
one wall. It was all part of her childhood. Aunt Mary had
endeavoured to keep the place up to standard, and Julia, its
present custodian, struggled to find the money to do the same. She
couldn't bear the thought of it being sold for redevelopment.
Sentiment apart, it was her one and only investment.
All this talk
of plots and counterplots, of breaking into offices and hacking
into computers seemed foreign to her. Aunt Mary wouldn't have had
any truck with it. Times had changed drastically. She hadn't been
dead for more than five years, but if she returned she'd find this
new century filled with attitudes, mores and manners of which she
would heartily disapprove.
'You'll do
it?' Arlene asked hopefully. 'Find my sketches, if he hasn't
already destroyed them?'
'We'll sort
out Vincent Gabor, and then, if we find there's any truth in his
shady dealings, get the police in to investigate,' Will confirmed,
and put his arm about Julia's shoulders in a warm, comforting way
to encourage her.
'Okay,' she
agreed, though reluctantly. 'I'm going to Blake's apartment this
afternoon. Kevin Dean will be there. I'm to be photographed; a
trial run for a session in Bermuda.'
'Don't look so
woeful,' Will said, giving her a hug. 'You won't have to go, of
course. With a bit of luck they'll soon be exposed. Then you can
write your piece for Denise and come back to the magazine.'
'Yes,' she
answered pensively, wondering if this was really what she wanted;
modelling was certainly more glamorous than working for the
press.
The atelier
was filled with light, as an artist's studio should be, but totally
deserted. The sewing machines were shrouded in dustsheets, the
chairs ranged neatly in front of them, the pattern-cutting table
free of fabric, the dressmaker's dummies naked and forlorn
looking.
'You expressed
the desire to see where it all happens,' Marty Blake said, a hand
under Julia's elbow.
'Where is
everyone?' She was surprised by its emptiness, for this was a
weekday.
'On holiday,'
he replied, examining his territory, making certain that all was in
apple-pie order, obsessive when it came to his beloved work.
'You closed it
down for a few days?' Julia kept her remark casual, though she was
thinking what a grand opportunity this might be for a spot of
espionage.