The Initiation of Ms Holly (Xcite Erotic Romance Novels) (2 page)

‘O
H FOR FUCK’S SAKE
, just text the man already.’ From where she sprawled on the sofa, Rita’s friend, Kate, stretched to check if the lacquer she had just applied to her toenails was dry. ‘He did ask you to.’

Rita refilled their wine glasses and flopped back into the recliner. ‘I keep wondering if I imagined the whole incident, with the stress of being trapped in the dark under the channel, you know, the fear of dying without getting laid. I mean it’s been so long.’

‘Not so long any more, you lucky cow.’

‘And that’s another thing. What if he thinks I’m a slut, I mean I did kiss him first.’

Kate rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly, you Americans are so squeamish about sex. You’re never going to know what he thinks if you don’t text him.’ Kate grabbed Rita’s mobile from where it lay on the coffee table and pulled up the directory. ‘You see? Look. Says right here
Edward
,
the only Edward you know, isn’t it? Edward with no last name.’

‘Christ! That’s right. I don’t even know his last name. I don’t even know what he looks like.’ Rita lunged for her phone, but Kate pulled it away with a giggle.

‘You definitely know what he feels like, hon, and what he tastes like. I’ll be riding my rabbit to fantasies of jiz and expensive chocolate for months to come, thanks to you.’

‘What are you doing? Kate? Kate, give me back my phone.’

With a wicked laugh, Rita’s friend leapt off the sofa just out of her reach, texting frantically, and as Rita was about to tackle her, she tossed the phone back, barely missing her wine glass.

Rita fumbled to catch it. ‘What the hell did you do?’ But being familiar with Kate’s naughty little mind, she already knew the answer. On screen the text message read:

Sun nite was gr8. Would luv 2 do it again. R.

The message had been sent.

‘Kate! Damn it, how could you? Now for sure he’ll think I’m a slut and – ’

Her reprimand was interrupted by the beep of an incoming text. She nearly dropped the phone. Kate was instantly at her side.

‘Well? Is it from him? What’d he say?’ She shoved in close and looked over Rita’s shoulder at the text that read:

Me 2. Drinks and din @ The Mount.
8:30 Sat? E.

‘The Mount!’ Kate practically squealed in her ear. ‘Even God can’t get rezzies at The

Mount. And even if he could, he couldn’t afford to actually go there. The bloke must be rolling in dosh.’ She danced a little jig in front of the sofa. ‘Find out if he has a friend.’

Saturday night, Rita arrived by taxi at the reclaimed warehouse along the Thames that was The Mount. But for the Jags and Porsches arriving as fast as the valets could drive them away, no one would have guessed it was a favourite hangout of people with money.

Suddenly a sleek white limo pulled up in front of the awning protecting The Mount’s customers from inclement weather. A liveried driver opened the door with military precision. The woman who stepped out had to be the perfect female. Her full, high breasts were well displayed in a simple silver gown. The low back hugged the exquisite narrowing line of her long spine, culminating in an elegantly small waist, which blossomed into the swell of her hips and rounded hillocks of her bottom. Her ripe wheat hair was caught up in a simple chignon exposing the elegant arch of her neck and shoulders.

The woman lingered to shake hands with a few adoring worshipers, then glided into The Mount as though her feet never touched the ground.

‘I can’t believe it,’ the taxi driver breathed. ‘That’s Vivienne.’

‘I know.’ Rita said. Kate would never believe she’d seen the goddess herself in person.

‘In all the times I’ve dropped people here, this is the first time I’ve ever actually seen her,’ the driver said.

Rita swallowed her nerves and stepped out of the cab. Granted, she wasn’t Vivienne, but, she reassured herself, she knew how to dress to for success. The midnight blue sheath caressed her curves almost like Edward had, and the double spaghetti straps offered her full breasts just enough support to get by with the braless plunge that displayed her abundant cleavage without being too slutty. Twin slits up the sides of her gown gave tantalizing glimpses of her thighs as she walked. The matching stilettos were not quite fuck-me shoes, but they could definitely be classified as make-love-to-me-naughtily shoes.

Inside she found herself in a lounge panelled in mahogany and filled with richly upholstered chairs and sofas strategically placed to offer an atmosphere of intimacy. The room was decorated in leather, wood and wealth. Several couples and small groups, dressed to kill, talked softly, nursing their drinks in quiet nooks and crannies while waiting for their tables. But Vivienne was not among them.

‘May I help you?’

With a start, Rita turned to find herself face to face with a woman swathed in black, caressing a martini. The parts of her anatomy that weren’t being fondled by designer silk were dripping in pearls and diamonds, which Rita had no doubt were real. In fact, she was sure any one item of the woman’s stunning ensemble would have maxed out her credit card and cost her first born, if she ever had one. Intimidation hit like a slap in the face, and she would have happily slipped back out the door and made a run for it if she hadn’t been caught in the act, or at least that’s how she felt. She stepped forward and offered a weak smile. ‘Yes. I’m here to meet Edward.’ She hoped no last name was required.

The woman did not smile back. ‘Of course. You must be Rita. Edward’s expecting you. Come with me.’

She was led through a restaurant full of sleek diners who spoke quietly over the tinkle of fine crystal and silver, then past a dance floor, where couples moved to a big band medley. Up above the dining room on a cast iron catwalk, no doubt a remnant of the original warehouse, stood the exquisite Vivienne gazing out over the diners below like a queen overlooking her realm That was pretty much what she was, Rita thought. By her side, and slightly in the shadow, stood a man bending to whisper in her ear. She didn’t seem pleased with whatever he was telling her.

The woman in black hurried Rita past the queen of The Mount and her consort, down a long hallway that opened on to several private dining rooms, most with private dance floors surrounded by dark, intimate booths.

‘The Mount is a dance club,’ the woman said, noticing Rita’s curiosity. ‘Mostly ballroom and Latin. It was once an old wool warehouse. Restoring it was quite a risk, but you’d be surprised at the number of people who love to dance.’ Rita wondered what planet this woman thought she was from that she needed to tell her the obvious. Everyone in London knew the guidebook history of The Mount. But it was what the guide books didn’t say that intrigued everyone.

In one of the more intimate dining rooms the woman guided her to a lushly upholstered booth near the back away from the dance floor and the few other diners who occupied the room.

‘Edward will join you shortly.’ With that, the woman turned on you-could-only-afford-to-fuck-me-in-your-dreams stilettos and retreated back through the maze of rooms.

Before she was out of sight, a server approached Rita’s table with two glasses and a bottle of Moët et Chandon on ice. ‘I’m Aurora.’ She sat her burden down on the table. ‘Edward has instructed me to apologise for his small delay.’ It was only her name and a slight feminine pout which assured Rita that Aurora was actually a woman. Her androgynous features were accentuated by white blonde hair cropped short. She was dressed in a black suit, waistcoat and tie, completely camouflaging the swell of her small breasts. When she spoke, even her voice was deep, and gravelly. ‘There is one other thing Edward asked me to give you.’ From her pocket, the waitress produced a black velvet blindfold. ‘He asks that you wear this. He said you would understand.’

A frisson of anticipation laced with the tiniest hint of fear ran up Rita’s spine and accumulated at the tips of her nipples as the waitress stepped behind her and secured the blindfold. That done, she filled a glass and placed it in Rita’s hand. ‘Enjoy the fizz,’ she said. Then she left.

The scent of oregano and basil and other more subtle seasonings blended with the smell of expensive perfume. Glasses clinked, people laughed, and somewhere in the background the melodic strains of
String of Pearls
wafted on the air. She had only just tasted the champagne when a warm body scooted into the booth next to her. She recognised Edward’s scent a split second before his hand cupped her cheek and his mouth covered hers, familiar territory, she thought, as her tongue became reacquainted with his.

‘I hope you don’t mind the blindfold,’ he said when he came up for air. He slid warm fingers under the spaghetti straps and caressing her left shoulder. ‘Being in the dark was so much fun last time.’

She ran a hand over his cheek, raking a thumb lightly over a fluttering eyelid. ‘What about you? You’re not wearing a blindfold. That’s hardly fair.’

He chuckled, and she felt his warm breath against her earlobe. ‘I never said I play fair. I was right though. You are exquisite, but I wouldn’t have imagined your hair to be chestnut’ He caressed her tresses, pushing a strand back behind her shoulders to fondle her nape. ‘For some reason I was certain that cascade of silk would be strawberry blonde.’ He ran his other hand up the outside of her thigh, toying with the exposed edge of her garter belt, making her squirm. ‘Guess in some cases, there’s just no substitute for the sense of sight.’

‘But I want to see you too. I want to know what you look like.’

‘You will in good time. That is if you want to play my little game. Of course you could take off the blindfold. I can’t stop you, but admit it, it’s fun not knowing. A bit of an adventure, an initiation almost.’

‘An initiation?’

‘Yeah, you know, at the beginning, when a man and a woman are just getting to know each other, it’s like an initiation, don’t you think?’

‘I never thought of it like that, kind of like a hazing?’

He chuckled. ‘Can be. Could be, if you want it to be.’ He nipped her earlobe, ‘Or maybe like an induction into some secret cult with secret rituals of wild, kinky sex.’

‘Mmm. Sounds good. Where do I sign up?’

Another chuckle. ‘All you have to do is keep the blindfold on until I say you can take it off. Let your other senses do the work.’ His finger slipped beneath the suspender to stroke her thigh, making concentration next to impossible.

‘I’ve always wanted to be a member of a secret sex cult.’ Breathing was becoming more of an effort as his touch became more insistent. ‘OK then. I’m in. Have your way with me.’

There was a long moment of silence, and for a split second Rita wondered if she had said something wrong, if she been too forward, too quick with her answer. But just when she was about to back track, he leaned in and kissed her softly on the mouth. She could almost hear his heart beating in his words when at last he spoke. ‘Then welcome to your new playground.’ His hand slipped underneath the spaghetti straps to cup her breast and stroke her engorged areola. ‘Expensive dress?’

‘What?’ Intimidation knotted her stomach. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Not really.’ She could hear him filling the champagne flute. ‘I’ll buy you a new one.’ He lifted the glass to her lips. Just as the taste hit her tongue he pulled it away and she felt a cold wet splash over her left breast. She stifled a yelp, but not before his lips clamped down tight on her drenched nipple, and the friction of tongue and teeth on wet silk caused delicious shock waves down her belly all the way to her cunt.

‘You know,’ he said between sucklings, ‘at the command of Louis 15th, the original champagne glass was said to have been shaped like the breasts of his mistress, Madame Pompadour. I can understand why. Once you’ve suckled champagne from a beautiful breast, champagne alone, no matter how expensive, isn’t nearly as nice.’

Another cold splash across both breasts and down her cleavage. She gasped and held him to her as he shoved down the spaghetti straps and freed her into his hungry mouth. ‘What if people are watching?’ she whispered.

‘Don’t worry. I know the owner.’

Another drizzle of fizz, but this time over her belly, dripping down icily against her mound. She squirmed and ground her hips against the seat.

‘Open your legs for me,’ he whispered. ‘There’s one cup even more perfect than Louis’s design.’

She did as he asked, wriggling and lifting her butt, her pussy clenching in anticipation. In one fluid motion, he shoved the dress up over her hips and pulled her panties down and off over her shoes. She wasn’t sure how he had managed it, but he manoeuvred himself onto the floor beneath the table. Before she could figure it out, cold liquid bubbles tickled her clit and dribbled down between her labia chased by the white hot lavishings of his tongue.

She moaned and everything inside her tensed with the surprise of it, the tantalizing, bracing shock of it, just before everything went molten and she slid down in the booth until her bottom was practically off the seat.

His hands kneaded her buttocks, thumbs spreading her folds open to the explorations of his mouth. ‘The perfect cocktail,’ he spoke against her pussy. ‘Champagne and lady juices.’

The music changed to a Latin beat, and behind her blindfolded eyes, bright flashes of colour burst and exploded like fireworks as she rocked and thrust, concentrating only on his mouth and her pussy and the sweet tart scent of champagne bubbling against her slit. She was so focused that she nearly slid off the seat when he pulled away, and she heard scrambling under the table.

‘What’s wrong,’ she gasped. ‘What is it?’

‘Excuse me, but might I have this dance?’

The voice near her ear at the side of the booth startled her and she jumped. It wasn’t Edward’s!

‘I love Latin dancing, don’t you?’

‘What? Dance?’ She gasped. ‘Now’s not a good time. Who are you? Edward? What’s going on?’

There was the familiar whisper in her other ear. ‘Go with Alex, Rita. Trust me, now’s a very good time.’

Before she could protest further, she was half dragged, half tangoed on to the floor. ‘How can I dance,’ she panted, ‘when I can’t even see?’