Black Orchid (13 page)

'Fancy him yourself, do you?'

Antony let her go and wandered back to the door.

'Mind your own business,' he replied good naturedly.

'Well, so long as he
is
half way decent, perhaps he could join
me for some lunch – I'm starving!'

'That shouldn't be a problem. I'll have something sent up.'

Maggie went to brush her hair and thought longingly of
the Jacuzzi. She felt grubby and wished there was time to
freshen up before she met the final candidate, but already
she could hear the door opening and the sounds of heavy
male footsteps coming into the room. For the first time in a
long time, she wondered if she would be able to muster the
enthusiasm required to put him through his paces. Laying
down her brush with a sigh, she went back into the office to
greet him.

'Hello, sorry to keep you waiting, I . . .'

She trailed off as she saw the man who had come in and
was looking out of the window. He had pulled back the curtains
and bright sunlight streamed in, outshining the lamps. He
turned slowly at the sound of her voice and all Maggie's tiredness
fled as she was caught by his dark eyes.

He was wearing clean, but well-worn denims with heavy
soled tan leather boots and a wide belt. His denim shirt looked
soft from many launderings. It clung lovingly to the breadth
of his strong shoulders and was open at the neck, revealing
the merest hint of crisp, dark chest hair.

Raising her eyes to his face, Maggie saw that he was
smiling at her and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. He
had a firm, well-shaped mouth which lifted slightly more on
the left than the right when he smiled. His nose was slightly
hooked, but perfectly proportioned, his eyes, so dark they
were almost black, widely spaced and framed by thick, black
lashes.

His skin was tanned, the tiny laughter lines radiating out
from the corners of his eyes looked paler, as if he had spent a
lot of time squinting in the sun. And his hair was as black and
glossy as an American Indian's, falling in a thick widow's peak
over his forehead and curling wildly round his ears.

Recovering herself slightly, Maggie moved towards him and
offered him her hand.

'How do you do? I'm Maggie.'

'Brett,' he said, clasping her slender hand in his capable
fingers.

Maggie felt the tremors tingling up her arm and swallowed,
hard.

'I hope you don't mind, but I've ordered lunch. It's been a
hectic morning.'

She blushed as she realised what she had said and he smiled
at her again. Maggie warmed to him and indicated with a
wave of the hand that he should sit on one of the rattan chairs.
As he did so, she thought of Antony and Alexander snooping
behind the two-way mirror and knew
this
time, she wanted
some privacy.

Casually wandering over to the two-way mirror, she blew
a kiss at its opaque surface and flicked the privacy switch.
Alexander was going to be furious! Serve him right for letting
Darren slip through the net. She smiled to herself as she
thought how she had outwitted him for once. Just then there
was a knock at the door and one of the kitchen staff appeared
with a hostess trolley. Thanking her, Maggie wheeled it into
the room and locked the door behind her.

'It's just salad and baked potatoes, I'm afraid,' she apologised
as she lifted the covers off the trays.

'Looks good to me,' Brett responded, relieving her of one
tray.

Maggie couldn't take her eyes off him as he took a hearty
forkful of fat, juicy prawns, dripping in mayonnaise and put
it in his mouth. He chewed slowly, as if savouring every bite,
his eyes never leaving Maggie's. She felt as if she could be
eating sawdust, her mouth and throat were so dry, her heart
beating irregularly. Despite her frequent escapades, it had been
a while since she had felt this much desire for a man.

'How did you find out about the Black Orchid Club?' she
broke the tense silence, wetting her lips with the cool, clear
mineral water which had been sent up in a jug.

'A mate of mine worked here before he came out to
Australia.'

'Australia?' That explained the deep suntan. 'What were you
doing out there?'

Brett shrugged.

'This and that. Cattle herding, mostly.'

A vivid picture of him astride a horse, yielding a lasso like
an old-fashioned cowboy pushed its way into Maggie's head
and she smiled. The image suited him.

'What is it?'

'Nothing. Just that you struck me as being the outdoor
type.'

'Really? And is that a good thing?'

His voice was thick, like double cream. It trickled over her
senses, affecting her concentration, drowning her in sensuality.

They had finished eating. Brett seemed to be waiting for her
to make a move, but, for once, she didn't know the best place
to start. She felt sticky, unclean and she knew she wanted to
come to this man fresh.

'Look,' she began, 'I feel awfully hot and sweaty. I'd really
like to take a bath – would you mind?'

She hoped he wouldn't think she was rejecting him, would
be happy to come back later. He smiled slowly at her.

'Sure. Would you mind if I joined you?'

Maggie's eyebrows flew up in surprise. She thought of the
Jacuzzi. There'd be plenty of hot water and there was a lock on
the inside of the door. It would be the perfect place to be alone.
Her lips curved into a smile of delicious anticipation.

'Be my guest,' she murmured huskily.

Maggie switched on the Jacuzzi and poured a thimbleful of her
favourite, scented bubble-bath into the swirling water. The taciturn
maintenance man would not be pleased with her when
he had to drain the system, she thought wryly. Too bad!

Taking out a large box of matches, she lit the scented candles
which were held in glass fronted iron sconces screwed to the
walls and extinguished the harsh electric light. She looked
around her with satisfaction.

The water in the Jacuzzi was frothing gently, large, iridescent
bubbles rising up and disappearing with a soft 'pop' the minute
they touched a hard surface. A subtle, musky scent filled the
room, laying heavily on the still air. The candlelight flickered as
the door to her bathroom opened and Brett stepped through.

He had taken off his boots and the belt of his jeans and
he stood, barefoot, looking round him. His expression was
inscrutable and Maggie felt her heart quicken. She watched
silently as he slowly unbuttoned the denim shirt and
shrugged it off.

His chest was broad, carpeted in a light covering of curly black
hair which arrowed down the line of his belly and disappeared
into his jeans. He held her eye as she stood across the pool from
him and began to slip the buttons of his jeans through the stiff
buttonholes. He was wearing plain black cotton boxer shorts
underneath and he made no move to remove them, merely
staring quietly back at her.

The tension in the room was palpable as Maggie slowly
slipped her robe off her shoulders and kicked it aside. Brett's
eyes flickered briefly over her naked, candlelit body, before
returning to her face. Maggie was aware that her nipples had
grown hard, her legs weak as she anticipated the feel of his
strong, hair-roughened arms around her, longed for the touch
of his cool, firm lips on her skin.

Very slowly, she walked to the edge of the Jacuzzi and sat
down on the edge. He watched her as she slipped into the water
with one graceful, fluid movement, closing her eyes for an instant
as she sank up to her neck into the warm, bubbling water.

When she opened them again, she saw that he had dispensed
with his boxer shorts and was moving towards her. Proudly
naked, his erect penis swayed invitingly as he plunged feet first
into the pool, submerging his entire body under the water.

Maggie giggled as she felt him brush against her ankle as
he resurfaced, water streaming down his face, his black hair
plastered against his skull. Without feeling the need to speak,
they relaxed against the padded side of the pool, wet shoulders
touching, both enjoying the sensation of the bubbles burbling
around them.

The illicit bubble-bath had caused the Jacuzzi to overflow,
huge, frothy masses of white bubbles rising up into the air so
that soon only their heads were above it. Maggie could feel
the constantly moving water washing away the remains of
her encounters with Con and Malcolm and Jason and Darren.
She felt clean again, renewed.

She jumped as Brett's wet hands slithered around her equally
wet waist, lifting her up and towards him. His naked body
pressed against hers, the wet skin slippery and soft. She could
feel his hardness nudging at her outer thigh as he turned her
and crushed her foam covered breasts against the hard, hairy
wall of his chest.

Maggie welcomed his kiss, tasting the warm, sweet water
on his lips and tangling her fingers in the damp curls at the
nape of his neck. His tongue probed against her teeth and she
drew it in, liking the taste of him and eager for more.

They were almost completely submerged now, mountainous
walls of white foam climbing around them. The candlelight
shone dully through the bubbles, enclosing them in a wet,
frothy cocoon, a secret world inhabited only by their seeking,
hungry bodies.

Maggie allowed the water to buoy her up so that Brett's
head was level with her hard-tipped breasts. She sucked in her
breath as his lips touched first one, then the other, suckling
gently until she felt the erotic pull deep inside her. His teeth
grazed her nipples as he pulled away and lifted her, his large
hands spanning her waist as he pressed his face against her
navel, delving into it with his tongue.

Looking down, Maggie could see the crisp, dark hair of her
pubis, almost entirely obscured by the clinging foam, inches
away from his busy tongue. She parted her legs slightly in
invitation, imagining how the soft pink folds of her inner flesh,
streaming with warm water from the Jacuzzi, would now peek
out at him.

She braced herself against the padded bar as he tilted her
pelvis, one strong hand supporting her buttocks. With the
fingers of his free hand, he gently parted the pouting lips of
her vulva and spent a long moment gazing at the intricately
formed flower within.

Maggie felt her cheeks grow warm as his scrutiny continued,
sighing in a mixture of relief and ecstasy as he gently entered
her with two fingers. She sank down on them, grinding her
hips against his, searching for his lips with her own.

Brett hooked one of her legs around his waist and she
brought the other up to join it, crossing her ankles behind his
back. The foamy bubbles hissed and popped against her skin
as she lay back in the water, her shoulders resting against the
padded bar and welcomed Brett into her body.

They made love slowly, almost lazily, indulging in long,
hungry kisses. Maggie loved the feel of him moving inside
her, filling her up, his strong arms supporting her in the water.
As his tempo gradually increased, she closed her eyes, laying
back her head in the water. She could feel her hair floating
like a halo around her head. Her ears filled with water and
the bubbles creeped up, over her face, splashing her nose and
mouth.

She sensed the moment that Brett reached the point of no
return and she opened her eyes. He was staring straight at her,
his mouth set in a grim line. Gathering together all his will
power, he waited until the deep ripples of delight had begun
to course through her body before allowing himself to join her.
They both reached the peak together, clinging to each other
as each was overcome and they sank, slowly, into the warm
water.

Maggie held her breath, holding tightly to Brett's reassuringly
bulky shoulders as they resurfaced. He lifted her up, away
from the foam and she felt the water course down her face
and drip off the ends of her hair.

'I think we'd better get out of here before we drown in this
stuff!' he murmured against her ear.

Maggie laughed.

'OK, can you reach that switch?'

He looked in the direction in which she was pointing and
waded over to it. Immediately, the bubbles stopped and the
foam which had been stirred up by the activity in the water
began to pop and hiss.

As they both climbed out of the pool, they were covered in
foam. Laughing, Maggie handed Brett a large, white towel
before rubbing herself down with an identical one.

'Allow me.'

Brett took the towel from her and began to pat her shoulders
gently. He had wound his own towel around his waist. Maggie
sighed as he began to blot the water running in rivulets
between her breasts, obligingly shifting her weight so that he
could press the soft towelling against her streaming sex.

When he had finished, Brett wrapped the towel under her
arms, sarong style, pulling her to him as he tucked it in. His
kiss was warm, friendly, even and Maggie returned it in full
measure. She felt pleasantly tired and leaned against him,
grateful for his strength. 'Shall we go back to my office?' she
whispered.

He nodded and they meandered slowly through the foam-filled
room to the relative normality of the office beyond.

Brett was still very much on Maggie's mind when she went
down for work that evening. After they had dressed he had
stayed to drink tea and chat and she had found herself liking
him more and more. When finally he had left, reluctantly it
seemed to Maggie, she had gone back to the apartment to face
Alexander.

He had been furious with her for defying him by switching
the privacy button on the two-way mirror. She didn't care.
Although she had the uncomfortable feeling that she would
be made to pay for her insubordination at some point, she was
indifferent to his cold fury now.

Tristan called her over as she checked out the gym.

'Hilary wants to speak to you,' he told her. 'I said you'd find
her in the bar.'

Maggie nodded and went in search of Hilary. She was one
of their regular clients, the kind that Maggie liked – discreet,
but uninhibited. She spotted her as soon as she went into the
bar. In her late forties, Hilary was slim and chic, her red-gold
hair cut in a severe crop which on most women of her age
would look cruel, yet on her it emphasised the fragile bone
structure of her face.

She smiled as Maggie joined her, her intelligent blue eyes
crinkling at the corners.

'Hello, Maggie,' she said, her light, musical voice easy on the
ear. 'Drink?'

'Thanks.'

The barman poured her a dry martini and the two women
chatted companionably about nothing in particular for a few
minutes. Maggie was beginning to wonder why Hilary had
asked to speak to her when the older woman casually mentioned
her daughter.

'I didn't know you had a daughter, Hilary,' she commented.

'Emily is twenty-one. She's a lovely girl, a bit plump, perhaps,
but I keep telling her she'll fine down as she gets older.'

Hilary trailed off, chewing on her lower lip in a characteristic
gesture that Maggie recognised. She had a feeling that this
daughter had something to do with Hilary's seeking her out
and she waited patiently for the other woman to continue. She
seemed to be trying to make up her mind about something.
At last, she turned to Maggie and laid an exquisitely manicured
hand lightly on her arm.

'I hope you don't think this is out of order, but . . . I was
wondering if I could book a man for Emily on my membership
card?'

Maggie opened her mouth in surprise, but Hilary did not
let her reply.

'I know it sounds like an odd request, but you see, I'm so
worried about her! She's so shy and unsure of herself. I know
she would like to have a full social life, but she had an unfortunate
experience some years ago and . . . well, I think she's
frightened.'

'That's only natural, though, surely? When she meets the
right man—'

'But that's just it, Maggie,' Hilary interrupted with some
agitation, 'Emily won't let any man close enough to her to find
out if he's remotely the right one! I thought that a professional
man . . . someone who knows the situation. The first time is so
important and I want it to be right for Emily.'

After the initial shock, Maggie began to see more and more
sense in Hilary's words. If Emily had been put off sex at an
impressionable age then it was important that her first time
was perfect.

'Fathers have been introducing their adolescent sons to prostitutes
for years,' Hilary said, a trifle desperately, 'and as this
is such a progressive sort of club . . .'

'Have you spoken to Emily about it?' Maggie asked as Hilary
trailed off again.

'Sort of.'

'And?'

'And she didn't completely veto the idea. What do you think,
Maggie? Could you arrange something?'

Maggie immediately thought of Brett. His patient, tender
strength would be ideal in a situation such as this and he
would be moving into the club at the weekend. He was perceptive
enough to know how to handle a woman like Emily. She
smiled at Hilary.

'Don't worry about a thing. You bring Emily here next
Monday evening when it's quiet – I know just the man for the
job!'

Emily hovered on the threshold of the Black Orchid Club and
tried to screw up enough courage to go in. Though her mother
had assured her repeatedly that she would be in full control
of the situation, it didn't seem to help to know that she could
call a halt at any time. She didn't have to do anything she
didn't want to.

Yet did she want to lose her virginity to a nameless gigolo
who was being paid to have the honour? Emily shuddered as
she thought how close she had come to losing it five years before,
in a brutal, careless encounter. Perhaps her mother was right, it
would be far better to place herself in the hands of an experienced,
older man.

Besides, Hilary had assured her that all the men here were
hand picked and were utterly gorgeous. And it wasn't as if
she couldn't reject the one this Maggie had picked for her
if she didn't fancy him.

A platinum blonde passed her on her way in and glanced
at Emily strangely. She blushed, embarrassed at being caught
hovering uncertainly on the doorstep. Taking a deep breath,
she followed the woman inside.

She gave her name to the frighteningly well-groomed receptionist
and waited while she spoke to someone on the intercom.
A door opened to her right a few minutes later and a smart,
dark-haired woman, dressed in a sharp business suit, walked
towards her, smiling.

'Emily? I'm Maggie. Would you like to come this way?'

Emily nodded mutely, and followed the woman, stiff with
nerves, through heavy oak double doors. Confronted by a long,
marbled floored corridor bordered by floor to ceiling mirrors,
Emily almost turned tail and ran. She could not avoid her
reflection as she trotted behind the elegantly turned out
woman in front of her.

In her bedroom mirror at home she had been satisfied with
the blue, indian cotton two-piece with its romantic tucks and
flounces and the ties which laced at the front of the gypsy style,
off the shoulder blouse. Now, though, seeing herself reflected
from every angle, she realised her figure looked decidedly
lumpy, her white, smooth-skinned face round, like a full moon
under her upswept brown hair.