The Exchange (17 page)

It must have made me come over all sinful, for suddenly I cast off all thoughts of being restrained and of making it home by 1 a.m. and, smiling wickedly at my companions, ordered a Hamilton Place Gold Martini. They didn’t bat an eyelid. I tried to mentally tot up how much this high-class bar crawl was costing them, but I was too drunk. Maths wasn’t my strong point even when I was sober.

I was glad I’d ordered it when the cocktail craftsman appeared at our table with a special Martini trolley and a gold cocktail shaker, and proceeded to mix Roberto Cavalli vodka infused with edible gold with some Dolce & Gabbana Martini Gold vermouth and a twist of bitter orange. Carrie Bradshaw and co, I thought, would
love
it. I took a sip – it was strong and straight-up. I took another, and I knew I was lost.

When we got to The Intercontinental, I was like a lamb to the slaughter – or rather, I wasn’t ignorant of my fate, like lambs are, I was consenting and calm, if not exactly happy. Nor did it bother me that, after The Four Seasons, the modern Intercontinental was a bit of a comedown. I really was past caring about anything.

And of course I wasn’t surprised to find Morgan and Jeremy awaiting us in the hotel’s Theo Randall Bar, nursing whiskeys. Three Rossinis – pressed strawberries and Prosecco – sat on a tray on the table in front of them, indicating that either Tatiana or Alice had tipped them off that our arrival was imminent. I looked at the women, and they looked back triumphant.

Fuck it
, I thought, and I grabbed the drink and downed it in one before I’d even sat down. Smiling wickedly, Morgan clicked his fingers at a passing barman and ordered me another.

‘Sit,’ he purred, patting the seat beside me. ‘I want to hear all about your evening.’ As I sat down, he put his hand on my shoulder and let it remain there.

I opened my mouth to speak but found that I couldn’t. It didn’t matter – Tatiana was more than happy to fill him in in my place, detailing all the bars we’d been in, what we’d had to drink and all the minor celebs and famous businesspeople and politicians that we’d seen. She made it all sound more interesting than it had been – or maybe the prism of the alcohol was making it seem more so to me now. Either way, I sat and let her talk, woozily nodding from time to time, acutely aware of Morgan’s proprietorial hand on my shoulder.

When we’d all downed our drinks, Morgan stood up, taking my arm and helping me up too. Against my better judgement but unable to stop myself, I leant into him. He took the opportunity to put one arm around me, and as he did so he gave it a cheeky squeeze. He must have felt me flinch, for he brought his head to my ear and said, in a low but commanding voice:

‘I’m going to fuck you senseless, you horny little bitch. I’m going to fuck you ’til you scream.’

He steered me out of the room as the others followed. ‘I’ve booked the Presidential Suite,’ he said to the others over his shoulder, ‘as usual.’

‘Fab,’ said Alice.

We filed into the lift, but as soon as the door had shut and we’d begun to move, he halted it and turned to me, pushing me up roughly against the mirrored wall.

‘Strip, you slut,’ he said, and though a thrill ran up through me, for a moment I was scared too. ‘That’s what you do for a living, isn’t it?’

I couldn’t be bothered to argue the finer points with him when it came to the differences between being an exotic or erotic dancer and a stripper. I didn’t think he was interested anyway.

Reaching behind me, I unzipped my dress – a black Top Shop number that reminded me of a classic Vivienne Westwood pannier design inspired by 17
^th
-century Spanish court dresses, with a button-down front and ruched skirt fitted with side-hoops – and let it fall to the floor. As I watched four pairs of eyes widen in admiration and lust, I felt a momentary surge of power through my veins. But then I reminded myself that I was basically their prisoner in a stopped lift, and that it wasn’t me who was holding the reins this time.

I was now just in my black basque, panties and stockings, and my black patent platforms. With my short blonde curls, I knew I looked awesome. All along Park Lane I had turned heads, even more so than normal – although I’m sure at least some of the people were wondering how the hell I fitted in with the conservative if stupidly giggly and flirtatious women I was with.

‘Turn around,’ said Morgan, and I could tell how much he was getting off being the ring-leader as well as bossing me around. I did so, leaning forward against the mirrored glass, my hands outstretched. As I did so, I caught my own eye in the reflection and there was that familiar glint in them – for all my shock, this was a huge thrill for me too, on many levels.

‘Have you been a good girl tonight?’ said Morgan gruffly, and I smiled wryly and bit my lip.

‘No, I haven’t,’ I said. I knew what was coming, and I wanted it. I wanted it badly. I might not have misbehaved during our bar tour, but I was a naughty girl through and through, and I deserved to be punished. Everything had been leading to this moment.

I tipped myself forward and, leaning my knees into the cold glass of the mirror, tended my arse upwards towards Morgan. In my mind’s eye I could see it: white in its pallor, slim but rounded, peachy-soft. I had a beautiful arse.

‘Do you have it?’ Morgan asked, and I heard Tatiana unzipping her capacious handbag.

‘Here,’ she said.

He took it without saying thanks, and I wondered what it was: A crop? A paddle? A whip?

The first lash had me arch my back and cry out. It was sublimely painful, and I wanted it to stop and I wanted more – more and harder. There was something cleansing about it. It was like a blood-letting – there was that same sense of blissful, warm release. I loved the way it focused the mind and blocked out all other thoughts.

He whacked me again, and while he did, I felt a hand – Tatiana’s, I guessed – pull the gusset of my thong aside and one finger dip into my juices. Then there was a mouth, drinking at me greedily. Between strikes, I glanced down. It was Tatiana, her face buried in my muff. She in turn had her black and white pinstripe skirt pulled around her waist and Alice, one hand holding Tatiana’s panties aside too, was going down on her.

I moaned, afraid I was going to come just at the sight of it. What was it in me that loved debauchery so, that I was turned on by these people I neither fancied nor had any interest in? They might as well have come from another planet, for all we had in common. And yet, and yet …

Suddenly Morgan held off whipping me and cast the instrument to one side. I looked, and it was a real riding crop. I remembered Tatiana mentioning earlier that she rode regularly with friends, and I surmised that it was probably her own crop. All at once visions of stablehands and rolling and floggings in the hay flooded my brain. I let out another guttural moan as I felt my knees weaken.

‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Morgan, obviously feeling me begin to submit to the fireball of orgasm that was roaring towards me. Looping his hand around my waist, he pulled me back from the mirror – and away from Tatiana’s mouth – and lowered me to the floor in a dog-like crouch. The two women rolled away from me on the elevator floor. Tatiana was lapping greedily at Alice’s tits now, where the latter’s shirt had been pulled open. With her hand she was fisting her cunt hard and fast, as if in anger.

I felt the tip of Morgan’s cock at my sphincter and let out another moan, half of dread, half of desire. I hadn’t done anal in years, and certainly never with Konrad. I clenched my jaw, closed my eyes and hung my head down, as if in shame.

‘Let it hurt, let it hurt,’ I said through gritted teeth.

I heard Morgan laugh, then there was a splitting pain as he drove his cock into my arsehole, not easing it in gently as my previous lovers had done. My whole body seized up in a rictus of agony so intense that I couldn’t even open my mouth to scream. Afterwards, I found that I’d bitten my tongue so hard it had bled, but I felt nothing of that at the time.

Then he was in fully, and fucking me, and the pain was mixed with pleasure, especially when Tatiana appeared below me, still partly clothed, and started pinching my nipples, playfully to begin with then harder. For a moment we looked into each other’s eyes, then I saw her reach one hand between her legs and start bringing herself off. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want the emotional involvement. I wanted to be myself, at least in my head.

Morgan withdrew from me, crawling underneath me and starting to fuck his wife. I stood up. Beside me, Jeremy was fucking Alice up the arse, whipping her with the crop. Dizzy, I stumbled back against the mirror and shoved my hand into my panties. I couldn’t be cheated of my orgasm now, by whatever means. Bracing myself against the glass, I rubbed at myself frantically, slipping my other hand inside me. I closed my eyes again, and I let the sounds of the others’ mounting pleasure guide me towards my own orgasm. I was alone, after all.

***

‘Is everything OK in there?’ came a disembodied voice from somewhere outside. The two couples were strewn around me on the elevator floor, in a post-orgasmic daze. I was sitting on the floor, zipping up my dress, wondering what the hell had hit me. The alcohol was wearing off now, and I was starting to feel a bit hungover and even nauseous. I wanted to be away from them, back home, alone not just in spirit but physically. But I knew I couldn’t get away that easily.

Morgan jumped to his feet. ‘It’s OK, it seems to be working now,’ he called, gesturing to the others to pull themselves together. Nobody had got naked, so it only took a few seconds for them to straighten themselves up. Then Morgan pressed the button to the top floor and we began to ascend.

The Penthouse was vast and stylish. I headed straight for the bathroom and filled the huge tub, then stripped and climbed in, resting my head back and closing my eyes. After a minute or two I heard someone come in and then felt a hand on my forearm where it rested on the bath edge.

‘I’ve brought you some champagne,’ came Tatiana’s voice.

‘Thanks,’ I said, although I wasn’t sure I’d be drinking any more that night.

‘Do you need any help?’ she breathed.

I opened one eye and looked at her. There was something greedy and sinister in her eyes and I accepted that I might not be able to get away from here very easily. I wasn’t frightened, but I was starting to wish I’d never said yes to their invitation to go out. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t, but I was weak. That was my problem, I thought: I was a girl who could never say no.

Tatiana must have taken my silence for acquiescence, for she began stroking my arm all along its length, then she let her arm dangle in the bath and sink below the bubbles, and soon I felt her manicured fingertips flit around my clit and lips. I moaned, leaned my head back. It was stronger than me. My lusts and pleasures controlled me. I thought of Aileen back at school, of her climbing into my bed in the dorm, of the way she had taught me to orgasm, her fingers clamped over my mouth so that the other girls wouldn’t hear. I’d cried with the intensity of those early orgasms, partly out of gratitude to Aileen, I think, for showing me the way. It was her pussy I thought of now as Tatiana brought me to another climax in the bath, my hands clamped to its edge and my head thrown back.

‘Time to repay the compliment,’ she said, slipping her hand out of my cunt as my gasps died away. Stripping off, she climbed into the bath. I wasn’t up for it, but I felt shabby having taken but not given in return, so I caught hold of her waist and steered her around, then pushed her up so that she was leaning forwards over one end of the bath. Her arse truly was magnificent, I thought, from my prime viewpoint. Like me, she had a tiny waist that flared into shapely hips. I peeled her arse cheeks apart to reveal the cute pink rosebud of her sphincter, then I trailed my fingers down and, finding the slot of her pussy, slid my fingers in.

She cried out, arching her back and pushing back onto my hand. ‘Oh my fucking god,’ came her Sloaney voice. ‘Oh my god, you turn me on, you horny fucking French bitch.’

I intensified the thrusting motion of my hand. The thumb of the other hand I placed on her sphincter and began to increase the pressure, slowly driving it inside. She began to wail, head thrown back.

The door opened. I looked over. Morgan stood in the doorway, a Machiavellian smile on his face. He was very definitely the ringmaster, I thought. Everything Tatiana did, she did for him. Not that she wasn’t getting pleasure from what I was doing to her, but her greatest pleasure came from having her husband see what I was doing to her. At some point, I guessed, their sex life had become stuck in a rut. I – and the others – was a way of keeping it alive.

Then I noticed that Morgan was holding a video camera in his hands, and I bridled.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘This stays here. I’ll delete it in front of your eyes. Besides, we have more than you to lose, don’t you think? After all, you already do this for a living.’

‘Not
this
,’ I tried to protest, but he waved a hand dismissively.

He reached towards me and I saw that he had the riding crop in one hand. He held it towards me. ‘Fuck her with this,’ he said. ‘Fuck her hard and make her come like a fucking train.’

I sat back, and Tatiana climbed out of the bath and stepped into the raindance shower, turning the water on. As it poured down over her, she looked sublime – like a vision beneath a falls, hair flowing like water. I stepped inside too, and she fell back against the wall and spread her pussy lips for me. I eased the slender handle of the crop inside her and moved it gently until I was sure it wasn’t going to hurt. I crushed the fingers of my other hand against her clit and massaged it firmly. I was aware that Morgan was standing a few feet away, but it didn’t matter. I felt that he would remain true to his word about deleting any film. And I was feeling so horny …

Alice now stepped in beside us, kneeling on the shower floor and bringing her lips to my pussy. As I fucked Tatiana with the handle, Alice licked me out enthusiastically. Then she stood up and Tatiana gestured for me to remove the crop. She stepped out of the shower and we followed. On the bathroom floor we lay down and I sat on Tatiana’s face while Alice went down on her, bringing herself off with her free hand. We didn’t all come at the same time, but it was as near as damn it.