In Too Deep (13 page)

She wriggled
out of her skirt, top and bra, but was hesitant about removing her
French knickers. 'You'll spoil your base tan,' Arlene warned,
staring at her lower half severely. 'Like me, you usually insist on
a seamless, all over brown. Now is the time to start, ready for the
heat wave. What's the matter with you? You're not usually shy. Have
you got the curse, or something?'

'No, it's not
that,' Julia answered, obviously highly embarrassed. Then she
suddenly dropped her drawers and presented her posterior to Arlene,
almost defiantly. 'It's this. Look.'

Julia's firm
but luscious bum was bright red, marked by long stripes. Arlene
winced, yet a hot spasm of longing forged through her sex. 'You've
been whipped!' she cried. 'Who the hell did this?'

'Grace
Pennick,' Julia said, and gingerly lowered her bottom onto the
padded seat.

'Blimey,'
Arlene gasped, astonished and riven with a sudden burst of envy.
'You said you'd tell about what happened this afternoon. I want
every detail.'

Julia reached
for the sun oil and applied it to her limbs, breasts and stomach,
and then she plunged into the story. 'It was all right at first.
She took me into a magnificent salon in Gabor's house. No one else
was there. She said she usually interviewed applicants on the first
occasion. She looked at my CV and copies she had of the photos,
then she asked me to undress, and when I'd done so, laced me into
this corset thing. It was so tight I nearly passed out.'

She fell
silent and Arlene, idle under the heat, looked sideways at her.
Julia, obviously lost in a dream of the afternoon's activities,
raised her knee, and her thighs, no longer pressed together,
drifted apart. Arlene tried to see between them, but Julia's hand
wandered down and sought her clit, stayed there for a moment, then
rose, uncovering the labial groove. She played over her cleft,
descended, slipped along her delta, and returned with a finger
glimmering with dew. She repeated this action, but only her middle
digit was lowered, the others gracefully lifted, like the open
wings of a dragonfly.

Arlene's heart
was pounding and wetness seeped from her vulva to soak into the
towel under her bottom. Julia was her friend, but now she had
become an object of sexual desire, too. 'What else did Grace do?'
she managed to croak, having a fair idea of Julia's reply.
Something or someone had excited her beyond decorum or modesty.
Arlene had never seen her masturbating before. She'd always been
modest, but recently events had taken place that had brought her
out of her shell.

'Oh, she
undressed me, and fondled me so expertly that I couldn't hold back.
I came before she told me to and, as punishment, she sat on my face
and had me suck her, then she spanked me and used her riding crop
on my poor arse,' Julia said haltingly.

Her finger
pressed down on her bud, flicking it, hesitating, and then circling
it with gentle movements. Arlene sighed, her own pussy throbbing
with longing.

'Have you done
this to a woman before?' she asked.

'No,' Julia
whispered. 'I felt so ashamed, but it was good.'

Arlene
relaxed, closed her eyes and separated her pink slit with two
fingers. 'It is good, different than with a man, more satisfying in
many ways. And when she whipped you - was that arousing?'

'I'm not sure.
I think so. The pain seemed to connect with my sex. I pretended she
was a dominating man - a tall, dark and handsome master. It's
always been a fantasy of mine.'

Bloody hell,
wonders would never cease, Arlene exalted.

As if inspired
by visions of her demon lover, Julia's fingers fluttered over her
clitoris and she started to moan. Her thighs opened and then closed
on her hand. She pumped her hips up and down against her imprisoned
fingers, then cried out and fell back, panting.

Arlene sighed
too, senses inflamed. She started to caress herself, thinking of
the burning stripes on Julia's buttocks and sharing her need for a
man who would command her and subject her to the kiss of the
lash.

A replete
Julia propped herself up on one elbow and stared at her. 'Can I
watch?' she asked sweetly.

'Of course,'
Arlene said huskily, and it seemed as if the two of them were alone
in the entire universe. She slipped her hand down to her entrance,
wishing for something with which to penetrate it. She would come
through rubbing her clit, but longed for a large vibrator to stuff
into her channel just on the point of climax. This always added to
her joy. With her legs apart, one finger in her cunny and another
rubbing her nub, she was transported, keeping up the smooth
movements until she was caught up in the tidal wave of release.

Julia felt
extremely anxious as she entered the palatial portals of Gabor's
superb office block in the heart of the city. It was called Abby
Reach. A uniformed porter asked her for identification and, when
she'd given it, nodded and took her to the elevator. This in itself
was impressive, lined with gleaming mahogany, its gates constructed
of intricate ironwork, a curiously old-fashioned touch in so modern
a building. Within seconds she was whisked up several floors. When
the lift stopped and the gates parted, she stepped out into a
foyer, and Grace was there to meet her.

'You're on
time,' she remarked. 'That will please Mr Gabor. He's a stickler
for punctuality.'

As yesterday,
she was wearing a functional tailored suit, buttoned high at the
neck, with a skirt that reached to below the knee, but the fact
that she wore stockings of so fine a texture that they resembled a
smoky mist hinted at the sexuality Julia now knew lay beneath this
almost puritanical exterior. Yet she was treating her as if this
was their first meeting and that intimacy had never taken place
between them.

'Is this his
office?' she asked, butterflies in her stomach.

'No, he owns
the building and has various branches of his business activities
housed here, but this is his penthouse suite. He chooses to stay
here sometimes, particularly if he's entertaining.'

Julia was as
overawed as she had been in Hazel House. She had never met someone
with so much money and power. The room into which Grace conducted
her was spacious, made larger by its minimal décor; white rugs
spread over highly polished teak, a white leather couch big enough
to seat six, low glass-topped tables, spotlights overhead and
windows giving a magnificent view over London's heartland. Two
beautifully proportioned and extremely ancient bonsai trees in
shallow, earthenware pots, formed a cool green counterpoint to so
much white.

Music came
from tall thin speakers that resembled sky-scrapers and were
correctly placed for surround sound - classical music, a slow,
haunting aria delivered superbly by a soprano voice.

'What is it?'
Julia asked, a dunce when it came to composers, her taste eclectic.
She knew what she liked, be it pop or highbrow, but was usually at
a loss concerning titles or performers.

'
Casta diva
,
from Bellini's opera,
Norma
,' Grace said, face uplifted to
the sound, hands clasped against her breasts. 'Wonderful, isn't it?
So sad, so lyrical. It makes me cry, and makes me
randy.'

This was
astonishing coming from a woman who Julia already thought of as the
Ice Queen. Was she, perhaps, in love with Vincent Gabor, her boss
and master?'

'It is a so
wonderful work, and the rendition is perfect,' said a deep,
accented voice from behind her. She swung round and nearly gasped
aloud. There stood Prince Charming in person, her dream come true.
She got a quick impression of height and strength, of pronounced
cheekbones, a patrician nose and a wide mouth. The upper lip curled
disdainfully, but the lower was full and sensual. His face was
framed in blue-black hair that coiled around his collar, and she
found herself staring into the most unfathomable eyes. Though
dark-lashed and beautifully shaped, rather like a wolf's, there was
something about the expression in them that caused a shiver to
chase down her spine to her sex.

'Julia, this
is Mr Gabor,' said Grace, and her voice was slightly unsteady.

'How
delightful,' he said, and bowed over her hand. He didn't kiss it,
but his lips hovered over the back, warm breath giving her
goosebumps. 'I've been so looking forward to our meeting. I watched
the video of you, taken yesterday afternoon, and I think you're
just what I'm seeking.'

Julia's heart
missed a beat. She'd been filmed? Had this included Grace seducing
her and then beating her, and her own response to lesbian love? One
glance into Mr Gabor's eyes convinced her that he had seen
everything. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. What must he
think of her?

She felt small
and insignificant, underdressed in her floral print frock that was
no more substantial than an under-slip. It reached to just above
her knees, had spaghetti straps and a scooped neckline, back and
front. With her bare legs and sandals her attire was more suitable
for the beach than town. Hot and bothered as she drove in, she had
been glad that she'd opted for something informal, but now
regretted it.

Vincent Gabor,
however, smiled at her saying, as he held on to her hand, 'This is
the look for summer; carefree, casual and bold. It makes a
statement.'

'Does it?' she
quavered, unable to pull away, mesmerised by him. His suit was
faultlessly tailored, his open-necked shirt pristine, forming a
contrast with his coppery skin. He even smelt expensive, though
there was an underlying hint of his own personal body odour and the
scent of his hair.

He smiled
again with a flash of perfect teeth. 'Of course, all clothing
reflects the manners and mores of the time. This is the age of
women-power. They are like gorgeous butterflies emerging from the
chrysalis, vital and full of force. The males have had to do a
re-think, and maybe the women sometimes regret no longer being
subjugated. There are those among us who seek to redress the
balance.'

He had lost
her; she couldn't understand what he meant by his last sentence.
But she wanted to please him, so said, 'I'm sure you know much more
about what is fashionable. I simply follow the magazines and have
had some training in deportment.'

'Tonight I'm
holding a small exhibition of Marty Blake's newest, most innovative
designs, and the audience will be select,' he went on. 'I want you
to be one of the models.'

'Me? But I
thought it would be some time before I actually appeared in
public,' she gasped, her heart dropping like a stone to the pit of
her stomach.

He chuckled
and put an arm around her in a gesture that should have been
avuncular, but was far from that. 'This isn't the public, just a
few of my friends and customers. You'll be fine.'

Oh, Julia
cried inside, trembling with fright, where are you Aunt Mary? I
need you or Arlene, or even Will. What have I let myself in
for?

'Is this an
audition, or are you about to offer me employment?' she asked,
pulling herself together and trying to control that weakness of the
knees brought about by her trepidation and his close proximity. His
arm was like a steel band, though lightly placed, and she knew
she'd be powerless to get away.

'I've already seen you in action, remember?' he teased, and
pressed against her, making her conscious of the fleshy baton lying
in his trousers. 'And Marty Blake watched the video, too. He
was
most
impressed.'

She should
have broken free, but couldn't. She was furious, shamed, and
despite her predicament, aroused. Gabor was smiling so enticingly
that she forgot to be angry, every sensible thought fluttering out
the window. 'What... what time shall I come back?' she whispered
shakily.

He arched an
eyebrow at her. 'Come back? Did I say you could leave?'

'But I need to
change, and um, do my hair and make-up,' she stammered, reduced to
a jelly as he casually lowered his hand and lightly touched her
bottom through the thin dress.

'There's no
need for you to go anywhere,' he drooled silkily, dragging the
fabric across the flimsy triangle of her panties. 'Everything you
need is here, my dear.'

'Oh, I see,'
she said quietly, her breasts rising firmly against the thin fabric
that tightly encased them as she breathed deeply to calm herself,
'then you must tell me what to do...'

'Grace will
take care of you,' he said, and moved away, picking up the phone
and dialling a number. He waved a decisive hand to his aide,
adding, 'See to it. She's to have everything she wants and to be
ready by eight. Now, leave me.'

'Yes, sir,' Grace said stiffly. She prodded Julia in the back
and hurried her across the vast floor to a door near the windows.
It led to a smaller room, with French windows leading onto a
balcony. Three girls idled there in the sun, completely naked, on
deckchairs and cane basket-swings. Their skin was oiled to promote
a tan, their hair up and kept in place with clips. Julia was
shocked to see that two of them were pierced through the nipples,
navels and labial wings. She didn't know quite where to look,
though they seemed unfazed. She noticed that a copy of
Hi Life
was being passed
around.

'Mr Gabor's
seraglio,' Grace remarked, with a contemptuous sniff.

'Stuff off,
you sour old cow,' retorted a redheaded beauty with legs that were
long and slender. 'You're only jealous - though whether of him or
us, it's hard to tell. Who's this, your new plaything?'

'Keep your
spiteful mouth shut, Gina,' Grace snapped coldly. 'This is Julia,
and she'll be modelling tonight.'