Delecto - Games of Mastery (part 1) (16 page)

I stood
watching the scene in my garden as the sun began to burn off the
dew and it rose like an ghostly mist that hung in the air.

I smiled as I
left my panoramic viewpoint and entered my bathroom. I would make
an extra effort today. Leave nothing on my body untouched or
unattended. Hard and heavy grooming was required. Nails. Teeth.
Skin. Hair. All would receive the in depth attention required to
present myself to her in the best possible manner. I'd smell, look
and feel so fucking good, she wouldn't have any choice but to want
me. I planned to make her burn for me, like she never had
before.

I examined my
tattoos in the mirror. I had mainly focused on religious and
meaningful images, with some abstract designs to knit the pretty
parts together. I hoped to have her hands on them later. I'd
noticed the way she'd looked at my arms, and she I could see she
really liked what she saw.

My pain at her
rebuff and my aching anger had subsided overnight. I no longer felt
murderous or wanted to punish her. My plans were for some intense
mutual enjoyment. Enjoyment for so long as I found myself under her
spell. So far it was a powerful feeling. It was thrilling, all
consuming, mind-blowing. Pure pleasure. I'd never been under a
woman's spell before.

I'd been
intensely attracted, many times. But this was something deeper than
that.

Bertrand rapped
loudly on the bathroom door as I finished my hour long body
maintenance marathon.

“
Good
morning Sebastian. Your coffee and croissant are on your dresser,”
he announced in a loud voice.

I opened the
bathroom door, naked, but uncaring of that fact. He'd seen me like
this countless times before, whether it turned him on or not I
couldn't say, he was far too professional and polite to make
mention of it or show any reaction.

“
Thank
you, Bertrand. And good morning to you.”

“
Shall I
lay out your clothing?”

“
I'm
going to a Boston charity dinner later this afternoon, at about
three. So I'll need a smart tux. Surprise me.”

“
Two or
three piece?”

“
Mmm, I
don't know? What d'you think? I'm hoping to tempt Amanda to come
with me, I need to look my best.”

“
I see.
In that case, it will have to be the three piece black Yves Saint
Laurent. It's exceptionally stylish. And did you enjoy yourself
with the mademoiselle after dinner last night?” he chuckled,
clearly amused by himself, as he collected my black tux and a snowy
white evening shirt from my closet.

“
Some of
my evening was very enjoyable. And our parting was more than a
pleasant event, up to a point. Hopefully this evening will be even
better.”

“
Amanda
is a very beautiful and charming woman. She's worth waiting for,”
he continued, as he brushed the sleeves of the suit carefully, with
a small soft brush.

“
More
than beautiful. And I don't plan on waiting that long.”

“
Why does
that not surprise me?” He raised his eyebrows at me.

I slipped a
pair of exercise shorts on temporarily. I had Bertrand's
sensitivities to consider.

“
I'm
going to cut her some roses later.”

“
If you
leave them in the kitchen, I'll soak and arrange them for
you.”

“
Thank
you, and when you're done, take the rest of the day off, go visit
one of those gentlemans clubs of yours.”

“
I have
already made arrangements. An old friend of mine is staying at the
cottage this weekend, he's due to arrive at four.”

“
Oh, well
in that case, I hope you enjoy yourself with your
friend.”

I noticed his
smile was wider than wide. Obviously his guest meant a great deal
to him.

“
I
imagine I will, Charles is very good company.” A flare of passion
sparkled in his eyes.

“
Is
Charles younger or older than you, Bertrand?”

“
Three
years my senior.”

“
Really?
That's very convenient and well matched. I imagine you keep each
other on your toes, don't you?”

“
Tut,
tut...non...” he smiled and wagged his finger at me. “Now you are
getting a little personal Sebastian, I'm not answering intimate
questions like that.”

“
Bertrand, you really are such a spoilsport at times. Come
on, spill some more of your sex beans. Give me a little thrill to
start my day.” I grinned wickedly. I knew that it was very unlikely
he would spill anything. But it was a fun end to our
conversation.

“
Trop
curieux, monsieur, trop curieux...”

His laughter
echoed as he left my room and descended the stairs. Although we
were poles apart in our sexual inclination, neither of us had any
concern over that fact. We rarely mentioned sexual issues, but when
we did, it was usually light hearted―fun and superficial. I think I
could discuss more with him, if I chose to push things. He had an
understanding and worldly air about him.

In some ways he
was similar to my own father, who I missed a great deal. Painfully
so. That was another demon which haunted my tortured soul, stabbing
me from time to time to remind me of his presence.

I knew
Bertrand's life had been a difficult one, a poor childhood, a harsh
start to early life as an orphan. Coming to terms with his
homosexuality had been a burden at a time in his youth when it was
all very underground and taboo. He had no one to turn to and as a
result of that he appreciated sacrifice, the depth of emotional
difficulty and the hell of misery too, I presumed.

I was sure, if
I needed to, I could unburden myself to him, regarding anything of
a deep and emotional nature. Not that I planned to do that in the
near or distant future. He was after all a servant. Those things
weren't done with a butler-come-valet. We could have our
superficial conversation, but that was as far as I would allow our
intimacy to go. With familiarity came contempt, and I liked being
respected and a little aloof, a mystery and an enigma.

I dressed and
checked myself over critically.

There really
was nothing quite like the sight of me in a tux.

Fuck, did I
scrub up well.

Not that I was
ever un-scrubbed, I always made the effort to look smart, even if
Bertrand was the only one to appreciate it, which was often the
case. But the extra shine, the spit and polish of evening wear, was
something extraordinary to the eyes.

Whenever I
attended a function, in Boston, a bank of female eyes focused upon
me. Such a wave of attention used to give me a buzz, but nowadays I
barely acknowledged their admiring glances. I would scan the room
for a while, with a practised eye, looking for a likely attractive
and obviously single female―one I didn't know and one with a look
of sexual starvation on her face―and I'd hit on her as soon as it
was decent to do so after the speeches were made.

That was my
modus operandii, and it was all I'd needed to do to secure some
female company for a while. I was always honest about what I needed
and was offering.

Short of
saying
you are not 'the one', so don't
start planning the wedding
, I couldn't be more
clear.

None of my
relationships had been long lived. Once I'd conquered and
possessed, I lost interest rapidly. And that suited me perfectly
well.

I'd never had
to work very hard to gain a woman's interest... until now.

Amanda was a
whole new concept, a brand new, heady experience.

I took a final
look at myself and adjusted my Turnbull and Asser grossgrain silk
tie until it was just so.

Satisfied that
I'd done all I could to lure Amanda into my hotly baited body trap,
I left the bedroom and went downstairs.

Her possessions
sat on the chaise where Bertrand had thoughtfully placed them this
morning. I hadn't been in the best frame of mind to remember to
pick them up last night.

My eyes rested
on the substantial and stunning floral gift on the half moon table
to the side. If that didn't set her panties alight on the spot, I'd
give sex up for good.

Well no, not
for good, I don't think I'm capable of that amount of
self-deprivation.

My eyes took in
the twenty-five long stemmed creme-white roses. All large budded,
lightly thorned and with a heady lush fragrance. They made my head
spin, they were so luscious. I dipped down toward them, taking a
long and noisy breath through my nose. They were the favorite of my
creations, a combination of three cultivars. I'd privately named it
a Venusia, a derivative of the Latin word Venustas, which meant
beauty and loveliness. It was the cream of the crop. Nothing could
be more aptly destined for Amanda, than this floral tribute.

Bertrand had
added some of his usual unnamed long green strands and what-not
from the extensive supplies in the gardens. I left all the
household displays to him after I'd cut my choices. He had a
special skill in arrangement which was far better than my own. In
truth I had a very basic, almost zero talent in that respect. I
might love roses, but I didn't have the first clue what to do with
them once they were removed from the bush. The roses were
surrounded in a simple light tan raw paper, with a deliberately
torn ragged edge, and their stems were bound and tied with a
natural raffia bow the size of Alaska. How many yards were stranded
in that bow I couldn't say, maybe twenty? It was rather wasteful
but so stunning it would surely blow her pretty little mind.

I put my white
card inside the arrangement. A tiny message which said:-

Venusia, a
beautiful tribute, a gift sent to you, sealed with the softest kiss
x

And I'd signed
with my barely legible, wild scribble of an SS. I was very
proficient at conveying my thoughts in a few simple and highly
seductive words.

I unlocked her
car and placed everything in the back, and then slipped inside and
sat in the drivers seat. I sat there for a moment with a smile on
my face.

I couldn't help but think.
This was
so damn cute. So neat and small and feminine.

There was a red
Little Miss Bad figure, with a big smile hanging from the rear view
mirror. I tapped it and it swung back and forth. I could smell the
lingering remnants of her perfume. I poked around nosily in the
storage areas.

A packet of
tissues. A receipt from a gas station, a pen, what looked like some
kind of eye pencil, and a bright pink lipstick, and finally, a
residents parking key card. Not much else. It was very tidy in
here. Putting the key in the lock, I switched the engine on, and
chuckled in reaction to the sound.

A Jaguar it was
not. It whined like a dog in pain.

I played with
the GPS, managing to program in her ZIP, after which I familiarized
myself with the mechanics of a stick. It had been a while since a
drove a car with manual gears.

Right...much
to remember.

I reversed and
set off, a little shakily on the clutch to begin with, and stopped
to press the 'out' button on the gate to allow my exit.

Moving out of
town, I was soon in the swing of Honda Civic manual gear driving
and turned on the radio which kept me happy. It took forty seven
fairly pleasant minutes to arrive at her door.

Marina Heights.
Thomas Park. Boston Harbor.

I looked up at
the small modern building with a keen interest.

A flutter of
excitement rolled through me at the thought of seeing her. It was a
shame it wasn't likely to be mutual, but I could work on that.

I found the
parking lot entrance and descended under the building, putting the
key card in the slot. And after the barrier rose, I entered the
bay. I parked up next to Richard's dark blue Mercedes, which I
remembered seeing at the golf club.

I sat for a
moment thinking what to say. I took my cell out of my pocket and
called Richard. His number was already programmed in. I was the
organized type.

He answered in
a few seconds.

“
Hello?”

“
Hello
Richard, It's Sebastian Shaw. I'm in your parking lot downstairs.
Do you have a moment to spare?”

“
Oh,
Sebastian...yes... of course.” He sounded flustered, but pleased to
hear from me.

“
Don't
tell Amanda. I'm early, and I want to surprise her.”

“
I see,
okay. See you in a moment then.”

He ended the
call and I sat and waited, with the door open so I could hear his
arrival.

He soon
appeared at my side. I got out of her car and stood next to
him.

He shook my
hand and we looked at each other, in a silently assessing kind of
way. I could see he was curious about my being there, wanting to
speak to him and my state of over-dress for the middle of the
afternoon.

“
I've
brought Amanda some flowers, and I'd like her to attend my charity
function later today, at six, is that okay?”

“
Why
don't you ask her yourself?

“
I will
in a moment. I was just clearing it with you. Being as I'm a client
and it's your law company and this is a personal visit to your
home.”

“
Well I'm
fine with it. And she rarely goes out. Only to work. It'll do her
good.”

“
I'll
make sure she has a good time.”

“
I hope
so. She's not been herself for a while.”