Authors: Georgia Fallon
Marcus and Mercedes made their way along the hall towards a big reception room into which they were ushered by another large muscular doorman. Cherry had strict house rules and these gentlemen were present to ensure they were kept. The room was already crowded and with the hubbub of many conversations, the chink of glasses and waitresses circulating with canapés it may well have been mistaken for a perfectly ordinary drinks party. But the night was young.
And then there were the female guests. A good
looking redhead with an admirable cleavage was dressed as a nurse, a dainty oriental girl in mandarin collared satin, her black hair held up with chop sticks chatted demurely. A youthful blonde was dressed in school uniform complete with pig tails and a beautiful six-foot black girl with a shaven head sported a warrior princess outfit. Throughout the room a dozen more lovely girls, dressed to thrill, mingled.
As they entered the room Mercedes drew many admiring glances from the men and women alike. With her handsome arrogant face, cloud of long dark curls and figure hugging dress daringly décolleté she looked exotic and exciting. With his hand under her elbow Marcus steered her to the bar, entertained by the thought that no one was sure if she was a paying or working guest.
Jack, the barman, greeted him cheerily, ‘Evening, Mr Delacroix, looks like a full house tonight’.
He could have been talking about a night out at the theatre.
They stood sipping their drinks and watching their fellow guests, Mercedes with particular interest. Marcus had seen it all before. A few latecomers joined the throng, and after fifteen minutes or so had passed the door opened one more time to admit their hostess. Now it was party time.
Wearing a skin-tight dress of crimson, her preferred colour, which plunged in enough directions to completely rule out the wearing of underwear
, she certainly filled the eye. Pausing for effect on the threshold, she took a moment to scan the room. Marcus, who had known Cherry for ten years, watched her. With her waist-length platinum blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and porcelain skin she was he thought, not for the first time, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Beautiful, insatiable and predatory. She exchanged greetings with various people as she made her way steadily towards Marcus and his guest.
Her voice was soft and cultured.
‘Good evening, Marcus. A little bird tells me you have brought someone special to see us.’
‘
Good evening, Cherry. I should like to introduce Mercedes.’
Watching as the two women’s eyes met and a slow smile spread across both their faces, Marcus knew Cherry was about to break her own rule on not mixing business with pleasure on a party night. The three exchanged pleasantries for a few moments and then Cherry leaned forward to whisper in the other woman’s ear. As they walked away together Mercedes turned and asked,
‘Want to watch, Marcus?’
It had to beat discussing sport with the barman as his fellow guests came and went with different partners; his usual pastime when he brought someone here. Pausing only to allow Jack to top up his glass he followed the women out into the hall, up the sweeping staircase and into a room marked Private.
The heavy curtains were closed and the room softly lit by several side lamps, the only furniture a huge bedspread with red silk and an armchair set in the corner. Marcus took a seat and watched as Cherry untied the narrow straps of her dress allowing it to fall to the ground. She stepped naked out of the folds of silky fabric. Coming up behind Mercedes she gently pushed aside the luxuriant hair and kissed the nape of her neck.
Mercedes leaned back against her and Cherry peeled the clinging dress down to her waist cupping the full breasts in her hands and running her fingers over the dark erect nipples. Easing the dress all the way down she dropped to her knees and used her teeth to remove a tiny black lace g-string. Both Cherry and Marcus smiled at the way the soft hair revealed was expertly fashioned into the shape of a heart.
The women lay down on the bed. Mercedes had by now forgotten Marcus’s presence but Cherry, always mindful of who was paying, ensured they were positioned to afford him an uncensored view. Sipping his Champagne, he watched the two beautiful women’s bodies entwine, smooth olive skin on soft creamy white, their manes of black and silvery hair tangling together as they explored one another. They kissed and caressed, stroked with hands, lips and tongues until in turn they both reached shuddering climaxes.
A man for whom sex had been like this, a spectator sport, for many years, Marcus was very tempted when propping herself up on an elbow, Cherry called to him,
‘Can we make you a sandwich, Marcus?’
~
‘You look tired, Marcus. Did your embassy person keep you up late?’ Lucy asked on the way to the Featherstones’ party.
Marcus paused for a moment struck by the irony of her choice of words.
‘No, not exactly. I didn’t sleep well. It must be the heat,’ he replied. Or, he thought, the rock hard erection which would not subside and a mind flooded by memories.
Lucy was too preoccupied worrying about the forthcoming evening to really pay much attention to his reply. She was nervous, having asked if he knew who else would be there and then wishing she hadn’t. It sounded like an A to Z of politics, the judiciary and big business. Tiredness making him irritable, Marcus had been unsympathetic.
‘For goodness sake, it’s a purely social occasion. No one is going to ask you to solve the problem of Third World debt, Lucy. Just be yourself, you’ll be fine.’
Saule was driving, partly so Marcus could sample the fine wines always provided by Richard Featherstone, and partly to deal with any lurking photographers. Marcus wasn’t expecting there to be a problem though; the security surrounding a senior minister’s home was hard to breach.
The Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs and his universally popular wife, dressed unflatteringly as ever, gave Lucy such a warm welcome she immediately felt more confident.
‘
Come along and meet everyone, Lucy dear,’ said Diana taking her arm and propelling her along the hallway. ‘I think we’re all here now. Oh, and I must just tell you how pleased Richard’s sister, Rosemary, was with her present and look I’m wearing my necklace, it just seems to go with everything.’
Joining the other guests drinking aperitifs in the drawing room Lucy was introduced to so many people, so quickly, she was unable to remember who was who. This worked to her advantage as she found herself less intimidated when talking to someone if she didn’t realise they were a High Court judge or the head of MI6. Marcus remained at her side and by the time they moved through to the dining room she was fairly sure she hadn’t said anything too stupid.
The table, the biggest Lucy had ever seen, was set for twenty and glittered with crystal and silverware. Lucy found herself seated some way from Marcus, but close to her hostess who made sure she was kept involved in the conversation. She relaxed and began to enjoy herself. Casting the occasional glance towards Marcus she saw him talking and laughing, his tiredness forgotten as he was caught up in the animated discussion going on at his end of the table.
It was the first time that Lucy had been to a dinner party when at the end of the meal the ladies left the table to take their coffee in the drawing room, leaving the men to pass the port and cigars.
As she handed her a coffee cup, Diana said sympathetically, ‘I see that horrid gossip columnist is still being very unkind about you and Marcus.’
‘
Yes, I’m starting to dread opening the paper.’
The woman standing to her left, and whom Lucy had by now worked out was the wife of the High Court judge, joined in,
‘Oh I know just what that’s like! When our youngest son was arrested for possessing marijuana I thought they would never leave us alone. Every day, for what seemed like months, there were digs about double standards, setting an example and family values. I know it was wrong of Piers, but he was twenty-four at the time for goodness sake. You can’t be held responsible for your children forever. It was all very tiresome and terribly embarrassing for poor Henry of course.’
‘
You want to try being gay!’ chimed in a younger woman sitting on the sofa.
Caroline Austen was one of the rising stars of the government, already a junior minister she was generally considered to have big career in front of her.
‘We’ve never been anything but completely open about our relationship, have we, Paula?’ She looked to her partner standing by the piano for confirmation. ‘Yet, every time my department does something unpopular, or they’re just short of news, they do a bit of gay bashing.’
‘
If one more reporter describes me as the mousy little wife of live-wire industrialist Ned Cohen, I may scream,’ came a quiet voice from towards the corner. The other women had to smile when she went on, ‘It may be true, but there’s not a law against it you know!’
‘
The fact is,’ said Caroline, ‘if you or your partner are in the public eye you have to expect it, and learn to live with it.’
On the journey home Lucy told Marcus about what she had heard.
‘I feel I’ve got off quite lightly really, or at least it puts it into perspective. I’ve decided I’m not going to let one spiteful little man spoil things for me.’
‘
That’s the spirit!’ said Marcus encouragingly. ‘Did you enjoy this evening?’
‘
Yes, I did actually. And that’s another thing I’ve decided; not to be overwhelmed by people just because they are important or famous. They’re just people after all, with the same interests and problems as the rest of us. Well, as me anyway, you’re one of the important famous ones.’
‘
Well, I’m not sure about that. But you are quite right, you have no reason to stand in awe of anyone. Several people told me how charming and natural they found you.’
‘
Did they? How nice. I shouldn’t want to let you down, Marcus.’
His expression was hard to read. They sat in silence for some minutes, both deep in their own thoughts and then Marcus asked,
‘If all goes well at the clinic on Monday, and there is no reason why it shouldn’t, are you ready for an engagement announcement, Lucy?’
‘
Would that involve an enormous diamond ring?’ she asked hopefully.
‘
Hugely enormous I should think,’ he agreed with a smile.
‘
Then I think I can declare myself ready!’
‘
That’s my girl! Shall I choose the ring, or would you prefer to?’
Thinking back to what Sarah had said about Kit’s choice being more romantic, she told him,
‘I’d like you to choose it for me.’
‘
It would be my pleasure.’
~
Sitting across the desk from her, Dr Walsh shuffled through the few sheets of paper in the file in front of him. After a few minutes he smiled at her over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses and told her, ‘Well, Miss Weston, there is nothing in your examination and test results to suggest you would have any problem in conceiving. Everything seems to be in perfect working order.’
Lucy hadn’t really believed there was likely to be a problem, but she was relieved nonetheless. She had been in the clinic for two hours, had undergone, she was sure, every gynaecological test known to medical science, and had started to ask herself, what if something is wrong? Disregarding Marcus, this would spell disaster; she couldn’t bear the thought of being told she could not bear a child.
‘And your general health? Do you keep well?’
‘
Oh yes, I’m hardly ever ill.’
‘
Good, good,’ replied the doctor, still rifling through her file. ‘I see you stopped taking the pill a couple of months back which is good. It’s definitely easier to conceive if you’ve got it out of your system. When are you thinking of starting your treatment?’
‘
Treatment?’ Lucy was confused.
‘
The IVF treatment. When are you thinking of starting?’
Lucy didn’t know what to think, let alone say.
‘Err, I’m not sure yet.’
‘
Oh well, just get in touch when you are ready. I see there’s a request for a written report. I’ll get it sent off to Mr Delacroix today or tomorrow.’
Lucy was no longer paying much attention to what he was saying.
~
Having waited impatiently for Amy to get home from work, Lucy took one look at her friend’s pinched face with the dark shadows under her eyes and knew her questions would have to wait.
‘Are you okay, Amy? You look washed out.’
‘
I’m just tired. It’s been one of those days and I haven’t been sleeping well. I could murder a cup of tea, Luce,’ Amy answered, her voice weary.
‘
You go through to the sitting-room, it’s nice and cool in there, and I’ll put the kettle on.’
Amy dumped her bag on the kitchen floor, kicked off her shoes and when Lucy brought in th
e mugs of tea she found her lying on the sofa with her eyes closed. ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ she asked, concerned.