The Temptress (6 page)

‘Hey, baby sis, how’s it going?’ He gave me his
trademark swoon-worthy smile, I responded in kind.

‘I’ve had better days. So Mum tells me that
you’re in love again? Since I saw you last week?’ I raised a suspicious
eyebrow.

‘Please, you make it sound like I have no
control over the needs of my heart,’ he pouted, making me laugh.

‘Needs of your cock more like, your actual
heart has
never
come into it. When will you realise that not every man
you get a hard on for, is the love of your life? Love is so much more than hot
sex, Dom.’

‘Says the woman who won’t see a guy longer than
her three month rule, because none of them live up to her hot Parisian fling
from years gone by. Besides you know hot sex is as good as love, maybe even better,
you’ve been there, Lu.’

‘I refuse to believe that,’ I announced
stubbornly. ‘Just because you mistake hot sex for love, doesn’t make it true.
Actually
being in love, on top of hot sex, has to be even better.’

‘Good luck, Indiana Jones. That’s the Holy
Grail you’re searching for. I’m quite content to settle for believing that this
is as good as it gets. Ask Coco, she stayed over last night and was banging on
the wall to tell me to keep the noise down.’

‘You had a night out without me?’ I protested.

‘It was your special weekend, we know nothing interferes
with that, unless you have a hot date.’

‘You’re right,’ I nodded, with a sigh. ‘We need
to sort something for this weekend, just the three of us. I could do with
letting loose.’

‘What’s wrong, baby sis?’ he asked, his face
softening. I smiled, he was only a few minutes older than me, but he loved
playing the protective big brother card and I loved when he did.

‘Greg didn’t make it past the sexual hurdle. In
fact he fell flat on his face the minute he left the starting blocks. Tristan
wants to know why he doesn’t have a “Daddy” to go and earn money, so that I can
be at home with him every night
and
I’ve got to go back out into the
field tonight.’

‘Triple trouble, a serious blow! I told you the
first time that I met him, that Greg would be shit in bed, you could have saved
yourself all that hassle,’ he shrugged, with a knowing look and shake of his
head.

‘How did you know? There’s only been four that
have made it to that stage, since I had Tristan and every one of them you
knew.’ I suddenly gasped, my hand flying to my mouth in horror. ‘O my God,
you
didn’t fuck them all first?’

‘No!’ He let out a deep belly laugh, making me
giggle. ‘Like I’d let my little sister sleep with a guy who loved cock,
particularly
mine. I don’t know, I guess there’s something in the way a guy holds himself,
the way he walks and sits, as well as a glance at his crotch. It’s like an
extra sense, let’s call it a fifth sense, it’s cockdar.’

‘Cockdar is a very apt description, but it
would actually be a sixth sense, seeing as how you were already born with the
other five intact,’ I grinned, with a shake of my head.

‘Seriously? Five already? Taste, smell, sight
and sound. What’s the fifth?’

‘For someone who does so much of it, I can’t
believe you left out touch,’ I laughed.

‘Holy shit, me neither,’ he uttered, looking
embarrassed. ‘O God, of course cockdar is a sixth sense, I remember now! Definitely
a sixth and not seventh, as I don’t see dead people for my sixth one.’

‘Thank God! Or you’d be haunted by the ghosts
of broken hearted lovers you’d ditched after confessing your undying love. And
that list is a lot longer than my four, plus the pre Luc guys.’

‘It sure is,’ he grinned, with a twinkle in his
eye. ‘So, you need cheering up?’

‘I’ll be fine, but I need you to cheer Tristan
up. He was really down this morning. Any chance you could stay over tonight, or
at least until I get in, though I’ve no idea what time that may be.’

‘Sure, I’m on a shoot in Covent Garden this
afternoon, so if Claire can pick him up from school, I’ll take over as soon as
I’m done and I’ll stay over.’

‘Will you be taking Calvin over with you?’ I
asked. I had no problem Tristan seeing his uncle holding hands with another
man, or kissing him on the cheek, but lip locks, gropes and hearing them have
sex was too much at his young age.

‘No, his arse and mouth need a break from my
monster cock anyway,’ he chuckled.

‘Ewwww, TMI, big brother, TMI!’ I exclaimed, quickly
covering my eyes.

‘Get a sitter for Saturday night and I’ll take
you and Coco out to
Krave. A night of dancing and alcohol, with no
heterosexual men coming on to you, will do you the world of good.’

‘Sounds fabulous, darling,’ I teased.

‘Don’t you just know it, bitch,’ he replied in
his campest voice, making me laugh.

‘You have a memory like a sieve though,
Saturday is Eloise’s wedding,’ I reminded him. She was our old neighbour and
used to hang around with us when we were younger. I’d been asked to be
bridesmaid, Coco too, making this my fourth time as a bridesmaid. What was that
saying?
Always the bridesmaid, never the bride? ‘
Mum has Tristan for the
weekend. Can we go out Friday night instead?’

‘For you we can go any night, leave it with me,
I’ll organise Coco. Be great to have the two maids of honour throwing up as
they walk up the aisle.’ His eyes glittered with evil intent.

‘You wouldn’t dare let us get that drunk?’

‘I hate weddings, so do you, that’s why you
suggested going out the same weekend. They’re so boring, turning up still
pissed would liven it up.’

‘Especially if I puke on Eloise’s three foot
train,’ I chuckled. ‘She could wander about with it on the back all day with no
idea, wondering where the smell was coming from.’

‘Has she invited any cock for me?’ he asked.

‘You’re already “in love,” besides, aren’t you
bringing Calvin as your plus one?’

‘Please,’ he scoffed. ‘Hot wedding sex is on
the pre-approved top three list, in place of one of the celebrities. It’s the
new black, darling. Get with the program.’

‘So in the space of one phone call weddings are
boring, but have also suddenly become the new black?’

‘O go join MI5
Miss Lulu Jessica Fletcher
McQueen
. Anyone would think you had a talent for espionage, you’re that
sharp.’ He mimed cutting his finger on a knife, making me laugh.

‘I’ve missed you, Dom.’

‘You too, so we’ll catch up if you don’t get in
too late, or do it in the morning over breakfast, when you can make me a full
English for my troubles.’

‘Sure, thanks again.’

‘No problem, I love my little man. Good luck
tonight, not that
The Temptress
needs it.’

‘You’re all tempting fate by calling me that. There’ll
come a day that I’ll fail, you know.’

‘Not in my eyes, you’re beauty and the brains,
sis. You’re doing a great job, at work and at home, don’t get down about it.
There are thousands of single mothers out there working long hours too, you’re
giving him the best life that you can. A much better life than most could give
him and he loves you.’

‘I know, thank you,’ I smiled gratefully. Dom
could always make me feel better. ‘Go, be fabulous in Covent Garden, see you
when I see you.’

‘Love you, to the end of my life and beyond,’
he replied, holding out his palm to blow me a kiss.

‘You too,’ I replied, doing the same and cutting
him off. I smiled at our family endearment, it went back as far as we could
remember, Grandma saying it to Mum, Mum to us, Grandma even telling us that her
mum used to say it to her and now I said it to Tristan. I hoped one day he’d
have a family of his own to say it to. I started working my way through my
voice messages, waiting for Violet to return. I’d do the emails when we were
done, I always had so many I preferred to do them from the comfort of my desk
and large screen computer.

I jumped as my intercom on the phone system
beeped, I’d been so focussed on the jaw dropping financials of the Le Grands,
that had been provided by Ian my background checker’s firm, that I was in a
world of my own and hadn’t even realised the time. This was the financial power
couple to end all power couples. I frowned as I realised that I had everything
but their photographs. It wasn’t like Ian to be sloppy.

‘Yes, Violet?’

‘Mrs. Le Grand is here.’

‘Please bring her in,’ I replied. I quickly
scribbled the word
Photos???
on a post-it note and pressed the button to
activate the recording equipment, very cleverly hidden and strategically placed
around the room, one could never be too careful. I kept all recordings, just in
case I ever needed them. I stood up and smoothed down my dress, checking my
ponytail and lip gloss in the mirror. Violet knocked and came in first, Mrs. Le
Grand following closely behind, a waft of expensive perfume clouding the room
as she entered. She was immaculately dressed in a cream shift dress, with a
brown fox fur stole draped around her neck, high brown heels and a brown
crocodile leather bag, with matching gloves. She had so much gold jewellery on
I dreaded to think of her net worth, just standing here as she was. She was
quickly followed in by a tall thin man, with large round spectacles and greased
back black hair. I got a creepy vibe off him straight away and resolved to
avoid eye contact with him, wherever possible. I walked around my desk to greet
her with a handshake, mentally assessing the rest of her as I did, sure she was
doing the same with me. Those designer clothes and accessories she was wearing would
make even my wardrobe groan with shame. She reeked of money and status, but the
biggest surprise to me was her face. Her paperwork had said that she was about
my age, but in person she looked older and she was no oil painting. She had
harsh features that made her look unapproachable, her severe mousy brown bob
doing nothing to soften her face at all.

‘Mrs. McQueen,’ she nodded, as she put her limp
gloved hand into my firm one, as a way of introduction. I hated flaccid
handshakes, so I relaxed my usual hold.

‘Miss McQueen,’ I corrected, with a forced
smile. ‘But you can call me Lulu.’

‘Mrs. Le Grand,’ she replied, as she looked down
her nose at me. So no first name basis with her. I could see this was a woman
who was used to being revered, that she probably treated everyone else like a
second class citizen. She removed her hand from mine and I got the sense that
she was still sussing me out, as her eyes continually roved over my face and
body. She almost had a look of contempt in her eyes, leading me to wonder how
I’d possibly offended her already.

‘Please take a seat. Would you like a drink?’ I
offered. ‘Water, a tea or coffee perhaps?’

‘Please,’ she scoffed, as she wrinkled up her
face in disgust. ‘You English and your poor excuse for coffee. I’ll pass, I
won’t be here long. You have work to do.’ She sat herself down, stiffly, perched
right on the edge of the sofa. Now even Dom would have a pussydar when it came
to this woman, one that said she was no hellcat in bed, I could tell that
myself. No wonder her husband was allegedly looking elsewhere.

‘Of course,’ I replied, relieved that we were
getting down to business, I didn’t want to spend any longer than I had to in
her company. She was almost toxic, along with her assistant too. I looked over
at Violet and stretched out my arm, offering her the post-it note in my hand,
which she took and quickly disappeared. ‘Do you mind me recording our meeting?
I prefer to focus on the details than to be taking notes.’

‘Non,’ she replied sharply, as her assistant
glided to stand behind her.

‘I’m sorry is that no you don’t mind, or no you
don’t want me to record?’

‘You may
not
record. Can we hurry, I
have to return to Paris for an engagement.’

‘Of course,’ I replied, as I showed her that I
hadn’t activated the digital recorder on the coffee table between us. She gave
me a curt approving nod. I resisted a smile. Doing that little charade told me
a lot about my client. If they agreed to a recording, I knew it was likely that
the case was simple, a devastated wife hoping to be proved wrong, that her
darling husband wasn’t fucking his secretary behind her back. A refusal for the
recording was usually the type of woman who wanted proof to use against him, or
who would want us to fabricate proof.
Those
type of women I needed a
recording for,
those
type of women were likely to try and twist things,
to imply that they’d only asked for evidence and one of my girls had taken it
too far, resulting in the destruction of their marriage. Before I knew it I’d
be sued, hence the reason for the state of the art recording system that was
already working its magic, without her knowledge. I sat back on the sofa
opposite, crossing my legs and folding my hands in my lap, as I watched her. No,
this woman had no sexual presence about her at all, she came across as a cold
hearted bitch, one who’d throw her own child under the train, if she had one. Based
on her looks, and going along the generalisation that one attracted someone
with similar looks and status, I deduced that her husband was probably not much
to look at either. This should be a walk in the park and I’d be home in time to
kiss Tristan goodnight.

‘My husband has a permanent suite at The
Domville, on Green Park. He is a creature of habit. From when he arrives on a Friday
evening, he tends to spend the weekend either working out in the gym, running
around the park, eating in the restaurant, or hidden away in his suite. He
never goes out sight-seeing or for entertainment. On a Monday evening however,
at
precisely
seven-thirty p.m. he sits at the bar, the stool on the far
left, in the corner and orders a cognac, which he nurses for most of the night.
Occasionally he has made it to three cognacs,
never
a fourth. Every
Monday night, many beautiful women will go and sit by him, to try to engage him
in conversation, or maybe more. But after idle chit-chat, he persuades them to
leave and always retires to his suite alone, or at least that’s what we imagine
he does, we’ve never been able to get past hotel security to be sure. Some
incident in Paris with a famous actress has meant that the whole hotel chain
has restricted access to the lifts, or stairs, for guests with key cards. They
won’t even allow access to a floor that your room is not located on.’