Authors: Roxanne Carr
Black Orchid
- Black Orchid
- By the Same Author
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
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Black Orchid
Maggie felt her stomach knot with tension as Judd
slowly, deliberately began to unbuckle his belt. It was
of a thick, heavy leather, the strap flat and wide. The
buckle was large and weighty looking. He took his time
drawing it through the stiff loops of his jeans before
cracking it loudly against his thigh.
Tina was trembling openly now and Maggie shifted
in her seat, pressing closer to Anthony. She gasped as
Judd coiled the buckle end of the belt around his fist
and brought the other end, without warning, across
the back of Tina's stocking-clad thighs. Tina whimpered
but kept her legs pressed tightly together.
By the same author:
A Bouquet Of Black Orchids
Avenging Angels
Black Orchid Hotel
Jewel Of Xanadu
Western Star
Roxanne Carr
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
ISBN 9780753517673
Version 1.0
Black Lace books contain sexual fantasies.
In real life, always practise safe sex.
This edition published in 2008 by
Black Lace
Thames Wharf Studios
Rainville Rd
London W6 9HA
Originally published 1993
Copyright © Roxanne Carr 1993
The right of Roxanne Carr to be identifi ed as the Author of the Work has been
asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 9780753517673
Version 1.0
Distributed in the USA by Macmillan, 175 Fifth Avenue,
New York, NY 10010, USA
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance
to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This electronic book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
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Maggie felt the familiar irritation as Richard's voice, growing
plaintive now, came across the line.
'This is the third time this week you've had to work late,
Mags. I thought we'd go to the cinema, spend some time
together . . .'
'We spent time together last night, Richard,' she interrupted
him firmly, 'tonight I have to work.'
She listened for a few more minutes to his petulant complaints
before saying calmly, 'If that's the way you feel then I think it's
time we called it a day, don't you? Goodbye, Richard.'
She put down the telephone, quashing the pang of regret
as she remembered the feel of his strong, lean body covering
hers as it had last night, his slender white prick moving
urgently inside her.
She caught Janine's eye as her colleague walked into the
office and made a face. 'Men!'
Janine, who had just caught the tail end of the conversation,
perched her neat behind on the corner of the desk and
grinned.
'Given up on him?'
'Had to. Why can't I find a man who can accept that the job
I do is important to me? I just can't handle it when they sulk
and pout every time I have to work late. I neither have the
time, nor the patience, if I'm honest, to tiptoe round some
man's ego.'
'I know what you mean,' Janine shrugged sympathetically.
'Still – they do have their uses!' Maggie said wistfully.
'Hmm. What we need, though, is the male equivalent of a
bimbo – always ready for sex but otherwise undemanding!'
Maggie laughed ruefully and opened a file she should have
read already.
'For myself, I'd stick to one night stands if it wasn't for
the risks nowadays.'
'You know, years ago the best brothels used to have all the
girls checked regularly by a doctor for disease. That's what
we working women need now. Gigolos, guaranteed safe, hired
with an American Express Card.'
'A brothel for women? If only!' Rolling her eyes, Maggie
turned her attention to work.
Later, when most of the office had left for home, Janine
stopped by Maggie's desk again.
'Nearly finished?'
Looking up, Maggie was distracted.
'Hmm?'
'I was wondering – you seemed like you needed a fillip
earlier. I'm off to my health club in half an hour. There's a good
gym there which Members' Guests can use. Care to join me?'
Maggie's first thought was to refuse. She barely knew Janine
and it had been a long day. Then she thought of the relief from
stress that hard physical exercise would bring and thought,
what the hell?
'In half an hour, you say?'
Janine's smile was positively cat-like as she nodded and
left.
Maggie was surprised by the health club. She had never
noticed it before, it was slightly out of town, on Lady's Lane
and although it was tucked behind a mess of other buildings,
the converted warehouse was too big to be completely hidden.
They entered by what seemed to be an elaborate screening
procedure.
'This must be some Health Club!' she quipped as Janine's
membership card was electronically scanned.
'Membership is by invitation only. See what you think and
I'll put you up for acceptance if you like.'
Once through the outer entrance and past the ferociously
well groomed receptionist in the lobby, they stepped through
heavy oak double doors.
'Wow!'
Maggie whistled softly through her teeth as she took in the
gleaming reproduction antique furniture in the hallway, the wall
to wall, ceiling-high mirrors which reflected the highly polished
marbled floor.
'This way.'
Maggie's heels clicked loudly on the floor as she followed
Janine into the changing rooms. Janine quickly shed her workaday
clothes and poured her lean, lithe body into close fitting
yellow lycra. Brushing her thick blonde hair into a smooth
curtain, she plaited it into a single braid which hung over one
shoulder. Her heavy, blunt-cut fringe fell in a line along her
eyebrows, forming a frame for her clear violet eyes.
Maggie dressed more slowly, looking about her with interest
as she did so. As in the hallway, the walls were mirrored and
she could see herself and Janine reflected from every angle.
Vivaldi was playing softly in the background. The vanity basins
which swept along one mirrored wall were dotted with fine
porcelain bowls overflowing with fragrant pot-pourri.
'What do you think?'
Maggie was aware that Janine was watching her closely for
a reaction and was momentarily disconcerted by the intensity
of the other girl's gaze.
'It seems very . . . luxurious,' she replied cautiously.
'It is. Your every desire catered for.'
Maggie looked up in surprise as she caught the innuendo
in her colleague's voice, but Janine merely smiled innocently
back at her and beckoned her out of the room.
At the end of the corridor, to their right, Maggie could see
another set of double oak doors, firmly closed. She could hear
loud, throbbing music, muffled by the thickness of the doors,
but unmistakable.
'What's through there?' she asked Janine, but Janine shook
her head.
'Members only. Come this way.'
She crossed the corridor to the doors opposite, waiting for
Maggie to follow her. Maggie cast a thoughtful look along the
corridor before catching up with her.
The gym was vast, the best equipped Maggie had ever seen.
There was the latest electronic equipment, plentiful, soft-piled
towels hanging in readiness on the brass bar which ran around
the walls. And the ever present mirrors.
'You can't get away from your own reflection!' she said,
wondering at the inexplicable
frisson
of tension which ran
through her.
Janine laughed.
'You get used to it.'
'Janine! How lovely to see you!'
Maggie stared as a golden haired Adonis strode over to them
and took Janine into his arms. He was tall, at least six foot
three and his body, shown to advantage in the pristine white
shorts and singlet, was muscular, exquisitely defined and
gleaming with good health.
'Antony! Darling, I've brought a friend with me,' Janine stood
on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear, then they both
turned to Maggie. 'Maggie, meet Antony, owner of the Black
Orchid Club.'
'The Black Orchid?'
'That's right. Delighted to meet you.'
Antony moved Janine to one side so that she was held by
one arm while he encircled Maggie with the other. She felt its
strength around her shoulders and caught the faint, erotic
odour of fresh male sweat.
Unaccustomed to such familiarity, her eyes flew upwards –
and collided with Antony's frank grey gaze. His eyes narrowed
assessingly and she frowned, squirming under the intense scrutiny.
His arm tightened round her shoulders, making her still.
At last he released her and Maggie sighed as she realised she
had been holding her breath.
'Come,' he said briskly, 'warm up on the exercise bikes then
Tristan here will discuss a programme for you. Tris!'
An athletically built, fresh-faced young man appeared at his
side.
'Look after these lovely ladies, Tristan. An hour's workout I
think, followed by a soothing massage and a session in the
steam room.'
With a little push, Antony left them with the smiling trainer.
'Is he always so domineering?' Maggie puffed as she pedalled,
bemused by Antony's high-handed arrangement of her evening.
'I mean, supposing I don't
want
a massage, or a trip in his
blasted steam room?'
Janine laughed.
'Relax. You don't have to make any decisions here. You pays
your money and somebody else tells you what to do. You'll
love the massage, I promise. You're lucky – normally guests
are restricted to the gym and showers. And after that, you'll
definitely be ready for the steam room! Go with the flow.'
Maggie said nothing, contenting herself with looking
around her. The gym was deceptive, the mirrored walls making
it look far larger than it actually was. Some half dozen women
were working diligently at their exercises, watched closely by
the trainers. Unusually for a ladies' gym, this appeared to be
an exclusively male role. Each was dressed in black shorts and
singlet. Those who weren't actively supervising a client were
using the machines themselves.
One in particular caught Maggie's eye. He was working
on the leg press at the far side of the room and, like all the
men present, was young and well developed. As he pushed
against the weights the muscles in his thighs bulged, then
retracted as he brought them back up to his chest. His back
was to Maggie, but she could see his face reflected in the
mirror.
It was an extraordinarily beautiful face, tanned, square
jawed, the features symmetrical. Even from this distance,
Maggie could see that his eyes were a startling shade of blue.
Perspiration glistened on the sculpted shoulders revealed by
the cutaway back of his black singlet and his blond hair was
slick with sweat as he strained single-mindedly against the
weights.
Maggie found herself pedalling harder as she watched him,
enjoying the sensation of the supple leather of the saddle
rubbing against her lycra covered pubis. The music piped into
the gym washed around her so that she was conscious only
of the rhythm of her pedalling and the graceful spectacle
across the room of the lengthening and contracting of the
young man's muscles.
Raising her eyes back to the reflected image of his face, she
suddenly became aware that he was looking back at her in
the mirror. As she caught his eye, he winked.
Maggie jumped guiltily as a sharp 'ping' signified she had
pedalled enough and Tristan materialised at her side as if from
nowhere. He was smiling.
'I see you've noticed our Alexander,' he said approvingly.
Maggie was embarrassed and changed the subject. From
then on she concentrated on pushing herself to her physical
limit, revelling in her own strength and suppleness. It felt good
to challenge her body, to be made aware of every muscle, every
sinew as she moved.
Slowly she was beginning to relax, to unwind. No one bothered
her. Janine was concentrating on her own routine. Tristan was
on hand to offer encouragement by way of a gesture or a smile,
but he did not try to engage Maggie in conversation again. The
music lulled her, the lack of chatter refreshing. She was able to
think of nothing but her own body and the demands it was
making of her.
She was almost sorry when the hour was up, though her
limbs ached from her efforts and she was drenched in perspiration.
Tristan offered her two warm towels to take into the
shower.
Crossing the corridor to the changing room, her eyes were
drawn again to the door at the end. Janine noticed her interest
and smiled.
'Another time, maybe! Right now we're expected elsewhere.'
Maggie allowed herself to be steered into the changing
room. The hot flow of water cascaded over her skin, making it
tingle and turn pink. When she emerged and shook her long,
dark hair out of the complimentary shower cap, Maggie
followed Janine's example and wrapped the dry towel, sarong
style, around her naked body before making for the massage
room.
The room, which led off from the opposite side of the
changing rooms, was small with only enough room for two
tables, reflected in the ever present mirrors. Janine discarded
her towel and lay face down on one and Maggie followed suit,
closing her eyes as she waited for the masseuse to arrive. She
opened them as the door clicked softly shut and found herself
caught, not by the professional eye of the expected female
attendant, but in the smiling blue gaze of Alexander.
Maggie half rose, then, remembering she was completely
naked, sank back down again. Her heart hammered erractically
against the padded table as she watched Alexander cross to
the vanity unit in the corner of the room and take out a large
bottle of massage oil. As he unscrewed the cap the strong,
heady smell of jasmine filled the room. He too had showered
and she could see the damp hair curling in the tender dip at
the back of his neck.
Janine's masseur was black-haired and muscular, his shoulders
sprinkled with a covering of dark hair. Maggie noticed
him catch Janine's eye in the mirror and sucked in her breath
at the look that passed between them. Yet, no one uttered a
word as the two men approached.
Maggie gasped involuntarily at the first contact of Alexander's
hands with her skin. His fingers were long and clever as he
kneaded the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders, coaxing
her to let them go. Slowly, under the insistent persuasion of
his hands, she began to relax, to unclench her arms and
buttocks and give herself up to sensation.
There was no music in the massage room, only the rhythm
of her own breathing which sounded unnaturally loud in her
ears, and the occasional slosh of oil against bare skin.
Closing her eyes, Maggie bit down on a groan of pure
pleasure as Alexander's palms ran the length of her arms and
back up again in long, firm strokes. After a few moments he
turned his attention to her hands, one at a time, stroking each
finger and gently manipulating each joint.
He was endlessly patient, intent only on her satisfaction as
he eventually moved further down her body to the long sweep
of her slender back and the sharp indentation of her waist. As
his palms travelled across her shoulder-blades and moulded
the sides of her body, Maggie felt her breasts swell against the
table, anticipating his touch. She was almost disappointed
when the brush of his fingers missed them repeatedly and he
moved instead to her legs.
Her calves and thighs quivered under his tender ministrations
as he methodically massaged away the tension in them.
Maggie felt that if she should attempt to stand at that moment,
her legs would be too weak to bear her weight, they seemed
as if liquefied.