Black Orchid (7 page)

It began, wave after wave of hot, weakening sensation beginning
deep in her womb and radiating out until it consumed
her.

'Oh God! Oh GOD!' she cried as his lips fastened on her
quivering bud and he ground them against her, prolonging the
climax until she collapsed, exhausted, his face still buried in
her soaking sex.

Electric Blue hardly gave Maggie time to recover her breath
before he suddenly reared up, flipping her over onto her back
and pushing her knees up so that they touched either side of
her waist.

He held her like that, completely open to him. She could feel
the cool air on her exposed skin. Opening her eyes, she looked
up into his intense face. There was nothing submissive about
him now, nothing remotely compliant.

'Playtime's over,' he told her and there was a cruel twist to
his smile that made her panic and struggle against him.

He laughed and opened her wider, dipping his head between
her legs and running his tongue roughly from her perineum
up to where her spent clitoris still throbbed. Bringing up his
head, he licked his lips crudely, as if he had just enjoyed the
finest wine.

Maggie no longer felt threatened for she sensed the violence
in him was controlled, impersonal. She watched, meekly
holding her legs apart as he let go one of them and reached
for his swollen shaft. Grasping it lightly with one large hand,
he manouvered the foreskin back and forth until a small tear
of fluid oozed from the single eye of his glans.

Almost ceremoniously, he paused to release the chain from
the ring in his foreskin. Unleashed, it seemed to grow even
bigger and Maggie swallowed convulsively.

His movements were tormentingly slow as he positioned
himself at the gate of her open sex. Pushing her knees back still
further so that she thought she might split apart under pressure,
he watched her face intently. His long, black hair formed a thick,
fragrant curtain around them, brushing erotically against her
cheeks as he lowered his head to run the tip of his tongue lightly
across her trembling lips.

Their eyes locked, hers opening wide with shock as he
suddenly pushed himself into her, plunging in up to the hilt
with the first powerful thrust. He stayed there, letting her feel
the cold metal of the ring against the neck of her womb before
withdrawing and plunging in again.

Maggie wrapped her legs around his shoulders and clung
to him as he rode her. His face was taut, unsmiling as he
increased his rhythm and Maggie remembered her earlier
determination to break through the cool façade behind which
he had hidden all along.

Reaching down between them, she felt for the join of their
two bodies, feeling the wet hardness of him as he alternately
withdrew and thrust into her. Her own juices were overflowing
onto the hard linoleum beneath her and she rubbed her
forefinger around her bulging perineum until it dripped with
honey.

Biding her time, she waited until he was near to orgasm before
reaching round him and working her oiled finger into his tight
little anus. The sphincter of muscle resisted momentarily, but
she persisted, stirring her finger gently round the rim until the
forbidden orifice opened just enough to admit her fingertip. Once
she was in, she thrust at him with her finger, matching the
rhythm of his thrusting pelvis and ignoring his attempts to expel
her finger with his anal muscles.

His eyes opened wide. A look of rage chased across his face
as he realised she had bested him. Then he threw back his
head and roared as a flood of hot, gushing come poured from
him into her convulsing sex. Squeezing his shaft tightly with
her pelvic floor muscles, she milked him dry, bringing herself
to orgasm by rubbing her over sensitive bud against him.

They collapsed, exhausted, in a tangled mess of limbs and
lay, sweat slicked and panting for several minutes. It was the
hammering on the door that brought them to their senses.

'Hey, why's the door locked?' an irritable male voice shouted.
'Stop messin' around, mate – you're on in five minutes.'

'OK.'

His voice scraped across Maggie's raw nerves. He sounded
like she felt – totally drained. He avoided her eye as he hauled
himself off her and disappeared into the bathroom. Hearing
the shower running she wished she could take advantage of
it herself. She felt hot and sweaty, decidedly smelly with the
imprint of his hot, masculine body still on hers.

As she stood up, their combined fluids oozed out of her and
ran down the insides of her thighs. She grabbed the towel he
had used earlier and cleaned herself up as best she could before
pulling on her clothes.

He emerged from the shower, still naked, as she was heading
for the door. Fully back in control now, he looked her up and
down as she stood at the door. Unexpectedly, he grinned.

'Still keen on a refund?'

Maggie smiled back and shook her head. The slightly dirty
feeling which had been creeping over her receded rapidly and
she felt good about what she had done again. Her eyes settled
on his talented penis. It lay, quiescent now, between his legs,
the gold chain firmly reattached.

'You give good value,' she admitted.

He reached into the drawer and took out a card. She ran
her thumb absently along the edge, noticing it was engraved,
not printed. Classy. Glancing at it, she saw it had his stage
name,
Electric Blue
and an outer London telephone number
on it.

'You're not Australian, then,' she commented, surprised.

'Only on Wednesday and Saturday nights. I can be whatever
you want me to be. Call me sometime.'

He turned his back on her and began to dress ready for his
next act. Arrogant little bugger! He hadn't been so cool a few
minutes ago! Maggie smiled to herself. She knew she wouldn't
call him, but she put his card in her bag all the same. She didn't
bother to say goodbye as she left.

Janine found her in the lounge bar half an hour later.

'Hey! Where did you get to? Did you miss the second set
from that guy in blue leather?'

She rolled her eyes heavenward to let her know what she
thought of it and climbed onto the barstool next to Maggie.
Maggie took a swig of her martini and regarded Janine through
the mellow, alcohol induced haze which had enveloped her.

'I've seen all I want to see of
him
,' she pronounced definitely.
'He's just cost me the whole of last month's bonus.'

Janine's fine eyebrows arched upwards.

'Really? And was he worth it?'

An image of him lying, bound by his own hair as she
explored his erotic, pierced body made Maggie smile.

'I thought so at the time,' she admitted ruefully.

Janine regarded her quizzically for a few moments, frowning
slightly as Maggie knocked back her drink.

'Come on – we've both got work tomorrow. I'll drive you
home.'

'My car's here—'

'You're in no fit state to drive. I'll pick you up in the morning
and bring you over here at lunchtime, after the meeting with
the Jefferson Corporation. You've remembered that, have
you?'

'Of course,' Maggie lied, frowning at the mention of their
most important client. How could she have forgotten such a
crucial meeting?

She allowed Janine to chivvy her to the door and drive her
back to the flat, all thought of Electric Blue and his undisputed
attractions consigned to the back of her mind.

The next afternoon, Janine seemed quiet as they drove to pick
up the car. Maggie was relieved. She had one hell of a headache
and the Jefferson meeting had not been the success it should
have been. As they drew into the car-park, Janine said, 'By the
way, Anthony asked me last night if I'd organise your badging.
I've made an appointment for Saturday morning – will that
suit you?'

Maggie had been fumbling in her bag for her keys and
hadn't registered what Janine had said.

'Sorry?' she asked absently.

'I'll pick you up on Saturday at ten-thirty. That's a.m. All
right?'

Maggie nodded. 'Sure, whenever. Thanks for the lift.'

'No problem.'

Janine fired the engine and drew away with a squeal of
tyres. Maggie found her car and unlocked it. Badging? No one
had said anything to her about wearing a badge. She glanced
over at the club and considered going to see Antony for herself.
Maybe grab Alexander for a massage. But no, she had a lot of
work to get done if she was to salvage her reputation after her
dozy performance this morning. Saturday would come soon
enough and she would find out what was what then.

'I am
not
going in there! No way!'

Maggie stopped outside the blank windowed shop and
regarded Janine in horror. The girl had been tight-lipped all
the way here and now Maggie knew why.

'Why would I want to go to a tattooist?'

'Come in off the street,' Janine said patiently, 'and I'll show
you.'

'You have to be joking!'

'Come on, Maggie – we're attracting attention.'

Maggie glanced over her shoulder and saw that a small
group of youths were regarding them curiously from across
the street. She thought how incongruous they must look,
drawing up outside a backstreet tattoo artist's shop in Janine's
ice-white Ferrari.

'All right,' she muttered ungraciously and followed Janine
inside.

She had expected the interior to be dark and dingy and was
surprised to step into what looked like the reception of a
beauty parlour. Janine noticed her surprise, whispering, 'What
did you expect? To be knee deep in sailors and a floor full of
sawdust?'

She rang the bell on the bleached wood counter and a slim,
attractive woman came out, dressed in a white overall.

'Hello. You must be Maggie – I'm Phoebe,' she introduced
herself.

Maggie shook the exquisitely manicured hand she was
offered and followed her through to the back of the shop.
Phoebe took her coat and hung it, with Janine's, on a coatstand
in the passageway. With a cool, professional smile, she showed
them into a small, scrupulously clean room, well lit, and tastefully
appointed. In the middle of the room was a padded couch,
exactly like those used by beauticians and it was this to which
Maggie was directed.

'You want the usual?' Phoebe asked.

'That's right,' Janine answered before Maggie could say she
hadn't a clue what was going on.

Phoebe smiled.

'Have you ever been tattooed before? No?' she laughed at
Maggie's apprehensive expression. 'Don't worry, there's really
nothing to it. No worse than a trip to the dentist. Perhaps you'd
like your friend to stay?'

Maggie nodded, biting her lip on the retort that she avoided
dentists like the plague. Janine gave her one of her cat-like
smiles and she had the uncomfortable feeling that she had
read her mind. Phoebe had scrubbed her hands and was pulling
on thin surgical gloves.

'Er . . . will it hurt?' she asked feebly.

'Only a little bit. You do know though, don't you, that a tattoo
is permanent?'

'Um, yes. Of course.'

'Good. So long as you've considered that. Not that anyone
but your closest friends will see yours!'

She flashed Janine a mischievous smile and Maggie felt a
second's panic. What on earth were they about to do to her?'

It wasn't long before she found out. Having stripped naked
she was asked to lie down on the couch. She gasped as her
bottom cheeks were gently coaxed apart and a cold antiseptic
swab was applied to the tender skin. Surely they weren't going
to tattoo her
there
?

She was about to protest, but Janine had dropped down on
her haunches at the end of the couch so that they were at eye
level.

'It won't take long,' she said, soothingly. 'Once you've been
badged you'll be able to be identified as a member of the club
by anyone who knows about us. Ssh! Hold onto me,' she
crooned as Maggie cried out.

The first touch of a needle to her skin was shockingly painful
and Maggie was grateful to grasp hold of Janine's slender
hands. The other girl's eyes were unusually bright as she monitored
Maggie's every response.

Maggie could feel Phoebe's rubber covered fingers pressing
lightly against her anus as she held her open with one hand
whilst working with the other. The rubber felt alien against her
skin, yet not clammy and unpleasant as she had expected. She
could feel the warmth of Phoebe's fingers through it, the tenderness
of her touch an almost erotic counterpoint to the merciless
stainless steel instruments she was wielding with apparent
skill.

'The skin breaks,' Janine intoned softly, 'a little blood is spilled
and mingles with the ink. Would you like to see, Maggie? Would
you like to know what the end result will be?'

Maggie merely stared at her, clenching her teeth against
the stinging sensation between her buttocks. She couldn't trust
herself to speak in case a shaming sob should escape her lips
as Janine stood in front of her and, hitching up her dress, slowly
rolled down her pantyhose. She was wearing white lace
knickers which accentuated rather than hid her downy pubic
mound.

Phoebe seemed oblivious to the striptease being performed
in her consulting room, labouring over her task as Maggie's
eyes widened in disbelief. Janine was slowly pulling down her
knickers, letting them drop to her ankles before stepping out
of them. She smiled at Maggie, a knowing, intimate smile.

Maggie could not take her eyes off Janine as she slowly
turned around and bent over from the waist, presenting her
with an unobstructed view of the perfectly symmetrical globes
of her bottom. The discomfort in the cleft of her buttocks caused
by Phoebe's diligently working fingers, receded as she watched
the vision in front of her. In a gesture which would have been
vulgar if it weren't so powerfully erotic, Janine arched her back,
pushing her hips back, almost into Maggie's face. Then she
reached behind and opened herself up.

Maggie drew in her breath. On the left-hand side of Janine's
inner cheek, there was tattooed the likeness of a perfectly
formed black orchid. It was about an inch long by half an inch
wide and was defined by a red border. Yellow ink had been
used to form its delicately freckled throat and fragile double
stamen.