The New Rakes (3 page)

Kara was suddenly very horribly aware of her cut-off denim skirt and rain-spattered parka, her bare legs and scuffed shoes and chipped purple nail polish.

But nobody else seemed to notice them. In the dim glowing candlelight and with a soundtrack of slinky blues piano running under the noise of loud conversation, everybody was clearly too occupied with impressing each other to care if a couple of scruffs crashed the party. Tam shouldered his way into the crowd and Kara followed, glimpsing faces she vaguely recognised, looking furtively around for Mike.

She caught sight of him standing at the back of the room, deep in conversation with a red-haired woman. As Kara stared at the two of them, Mike turned and caught her eye. He fixed her with a look that made the butterflies in her stomach swirl higher than ever.

Tam pressed a glass into her hand and she clutched it, thankful for something to hang on to. He was talking to her, cracking a joke about some journalist that he’d spotted in the corner, but Kara wasn’t listening.

There was the ragged roar of conversation and the flowing
melody
of a piano, and there was Mike, giving that lazy smile of his while he nodded at the woman he spoke to and looked straight at Kara. One hand in his pocket, his sandy hair brushed back to show his tanned, weather-beaten face. His foot tapping, slowly, deliberately. Always marking time, thought Kara. Counting the beat.

She moved towards him, swaying through the crowd, noticing him press his lips together and frown a little like he was appraising her.

‘You made it,’ he said as she reached him, his words cutting through something the other woman was saying. ‘I’m so glad.’

‘Lina, this is Kara,’ he said, motioning the two women together. ‘A starlet in the making.’

Kara felt the hot glare of Lina’s attention sweep over her and regarded her rival with the same curiosity. She was a striking woman – long limbed and slender with a waterfall of dark-auburn hair which cascaded over her shoulders. Kara took in the sculpted cheekbones and fine, arched eyebrows. Lina must have been about thirty-five, a bit older, but she had that well-maintained look.

‘Lina’s our publicist,’ Mike said. ‘Mistress of the well-turned phrase, aren’t you, Lina?’

‘You flatter me, Michael,’ Lina said. She turned to Kara. ‘So you’re Mike’s latest kick, are you? Very pretty. A musician?’

‘A singer,’ Kara said. ‘Lead singer.’

‘Wonderful,’ Lina said, with a sphinx’s smile.

‘You should see her onstage,’ said Mike. ‘She’s mesmerising.’

‘Oh, I love the indie bands. It’s great that everyone feels they have the chance to make their own music these days. Now, I hate to be rude, but I’ve just seen someone I must talk to,’ Lina said. She squeezed Mike’s arm before slipping into the crowd.
The
bracelets on her arm jangled as she walked, leaving a trail of brittle music in her wake.

‘Ouch,’ Kara said. ‘She’s sharp.’

‘Yes, it always seems like the room gets a little dimmer when Lina leaves,’ Mike said. ‘But I have you to add a little sparkle to the evening, don’t I, Kara?’

‘Hmm.’ Kara gave a half-laugh and shifted awkwardly in her heels. ‘Actually I’m starting to feel a little tarnished.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Mike said, ‘given your performance earlier. Why don’t we find somewhere quiet.’

It wasn’t a question. He was already steering Kara towards a booth at the edge of the room, one hand in the small of her back, a heavy warm pressure through her T-shirt. The crowd parted respectfully as they moved, people nodding and smiling as Mike passed. Kara felt suddenly at the centre of everything, like she was moving through a smooth and beautiful sea. Now that she was with Mike, people took note of her. She could be his latest protégé, or his lover. Either way, she was a curiosity.

A camera flash went off, blinding Kara temporarily. Of course, the press was here. The launch of a new record label merited a half-inch in the music columns, at least.

‘This one of your artists, Mr Greene?’ asked a dark-haired man in glasses.

‘Could be,’ Mike muttered, frowning.

‘You promised an interview?
Evening Star
.’

‘Ah. Yes. Do you mind, Kara?’

Kara shook her head. ‘I’ll go find Tam,’ she said, moving away.

‘Oh no, sit in with us. It won’t take long,’ Mike said, motioning to a booth that sat, shadowy and tucked away behind red velvet curtains. He grabbed a waiter and ordered champagne before sitting, then pulled Kara down beside him. The bench was low,
the
deep seat piled high with fat velvet cushions and Kara sank into them. The journalist had already flipped out a notebook and started asking questions. Kara could feel Mike’s thigh against hers, the long taut muscles pressed close and tight. Was that accidental?

But Mike seemed oblivious, answering the journalist’s questions with practised ease and pouring wine for them all as he did so.

‘Blue Star Records are starting on the crest of a wave, of course,’ he was saying. ‘The music scene’s never been so vibrant. New talent practically spilling from every bar in the city.’

‘And you’re focusing on this new talent?’

‘Absolutely. It’s fresh, sexy and ripe for the plucking.’ Mike smiled.

Kara started as she felt something brush against her leg – a spider’s touch, crawling along her thigh. Under the table, Mike was stroking her, lightly, gently. As though he weren’t aware he was even doing it. She fixed her eyes on the journalist, scribbling in his notepad, oblivious to Mike’s little game. They were hidden in the dim candlelight of the curtained booth and she was trapped in the corner, unable to move or make a sound.

As Mike continued, waxing lyrical about the plans for Blue Star Records, his hand continued to dance over Kara’s lap, tracing an unpredictable pattern, then ran along the hem of her skirt and tugged gently. His fingers slid under the fabric, reaching to where her flesh was warm and tender and as smooth as satin. There they rested.

Kara held her breath, waiting for him to move. She could feel her pulse in her throat, feel the blood fizz in her veins as though they were running with champagne instead of blood. Dizziness washed over her so that she struggled to focus on the conversation. All she was sure of was the position of Mike’s
hand
, definitely not accidental, now he’d crawled his fingers to the top of her thigh. Between her legs another pulse was beating, dark and desperate.

‘… the idea that you’re manipulating young artists?’

Kara caught the tail end of the journalist’s question and felt Mike stiffen next to her.

‘That’s nonsense. Success doesn’t fall into your lap,’ he said, his voice showing a glimmer of anger. ‘And we know what sells.’

He was digging his fingers into Kara’s flesh now, kneading at her insistently. She couldn’t help tipping her pelvis forwards, trying to inch closer to his hand. The conversation had piqued her interest now too, and she teetered on a knife-edge, wanting desperately to listen as well as feel.

‘So there’s no truth in the rumours about why Lina Warren left ABC?’

‘John, I’m terribly sorry, but we’re out of time,’ Mike said. He poured another glass for himself and Kara, leaving the journalist’s pointedly empty. He barely nodded goodbye as the other man rose and left.

‘I don’t want you to say a word,’ Mike murmured, and his voice was smoky and sweet as Kara remembered it, flowing over her like notes from a cello. Under the table he was pushing her skirt up, exposing her knickers. Now he took her hand, still cold from holding the champagne flute, and rested it over the crotch of his cords.

‘Isn’t it a little public … ?’ Kara started to say, but Mike murmured, ‘Ssssh,’ as he let her feel the bulge in the front of his trousers. His cock was hard. Even through layers of fabric she could feel the long curve of it pressed along his thigh. When she stretched her fingers over the tip she heard Mike sigh with relief.

She started rubbing, slow and deliberate, moulding her hand
round
the shaft and pressing down hard. Though she’d imagined touching him when she was his student and though of course they’d brushed against each other, she’d never gone this far with him. To have her hand on his cock felt beautifully dangerous, as though she might waken a sleeping monster with her touch.

The thought thrilled her rather than worried her. Suddenly Kara hardly cared if their surreptitious hand movements were noticeable – she felt invincible somehow, as though she’d entered some different universe where all the rules had changed. The glittering night seemed full of danger, full of sex, full of wanting. The bar was a fabulous depraved film set, where nothing was forbidden. Kara could get on her knees and take Mike’s cock in her mouth and the party would continue around them, photographers snapping pictures and the poisonous Lina cackling with laughter as she watched.

‘Jesus, that feels good,’ Mike said through clenched teeth. He was bent over the table now, obscuring them from the rest of the room, and still working at Kara’s knickers with clever fingers. He was an inch from feeling how wet she was, Kara knew, an inch from where she wanted him to be. They could finger-fuck each other right here. But it was too soon. She had to force herself to wait.

‘Mike,’ she whispered, ‘what that guy was saying …’ She paused for a moment and let her hand fall limp in his lap. Waiting until he turned to her, face set hard and eyes glowing. ‘Manipulating artists. How does that work exactly?’

Mike pressed his lips together. He was breathing harder, she noticed, and his expression had grown intense. Something about the way he held himself almost scared her – the control; the distant, level gaze.

‘Are you just looking for a record deal?’ he said eventually.
‘Is
that why you’re sitting here like a wanton little slut with her hand on my cock?’

Kara recoiled. Before she could pull her hand away though, he had grasped her wrist and held it tight against his lap. ‘Not that I’m insulted, Kara. Far from it. Some of the best creative partnerships benefit from a little sexual frisson.’

‘There was always …’ Kara noticed how small her voice sounded.

‘Tension?’ Mike asked, still not releasing her hand. ‘Of course there was. Almost enough to make me consider leaving the job. Not the done thing, to be fucking your students, is it?’

There. He’d said it. As soon as the words left his lips Kara realised the tension was there again, in spades. Kara felt it bloom against her, warp the air around them. Her heart beat and it seemed she could hear the metronome again, clicking steadily, swiftly, precisely, as it counted out the practice hour.

‘But you’re not my student any more,’ Mike said. ‘You’re a chanteuse with a very fuckable body and a pretty good voice.’

‘Singer-songwriter,’ Kara said automatically. ‘I write the songs.’

‘Sure,’ Mike said, shrugging. ‘Not really important. Anyway, we could talk about a deal. A demo.’ He relaxed, and sat back in his seat. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to try you out in the studio. See if that stage presence translates on tape.’

‘Really?’ Kara said, wanting to hear him talk at the same time as she wanted to feel his hands on her again, working at her and drawing the moisture from deep within her. The champagne fizz, his words, her shimmering pussy and the dregs of the adrenaline in her blood mixed together until she felt dizzy with possibility.

‘Certainly,’ Mike said, pouring the last of the wine into their glasses. ‘I suspect you could be something quite special, given
the
right handling.’ He lifted his champagne flute in a toast: ‘And I do intend to give you just that.’

He drained his glass, leaving the promise hanging in the air between them. Kara looked past him to the party that still broiled in the overflowing bar, saw the men and women with sparkling smiles and flashing jewellery and eyes that flickered, every so often, to where she sat with Mike. She saw the want in them, calculating, curious and hungry. She felt their desire lapping at her.

When she caught sight of Tam, slouched against the bar and glowering at her, she felt a sudden strong tug that she couldn’t explain. As though he were gripping her still, kneeling in front of her and holding on to her hips like he would never let go.

She could still feel the buzz in her pussy from when Tam had his mouth on her only two hours before, and yet the lingering sensation only seemed to make her hungrier for Mike.

It was a mix of alcohol, spite and arousal that made her lean in closer to Mike then, brushing her breast against his arm, and lay a hand over his. She smiled like a serpent, thinking of the heat of their under-the-table game and the way he handled her, covertly and blatantly all at once.

‘Why don’t we get out of here?’ she asked. ‘Come back to mine.’

Mike laughed. ‘Such an impatient woman, aren’t you? But much as I would like to take you home, strip you and fuck you, I really can’t leave my own party.’ He pulled his wallet out and gave her a card. ‘Call me. Tomorrow. I’ll be in the studio.’

‘Alone?’

‘Yes, Kara. Alone.’ He looked her over again. ‘Go home, go to bed. Sleep naked. I’ll be thinking of you.’

3

KARA WOKE WITH
her whole body aching. She rolled out of bed and winced as the sharp winter sunlight flared in her face. Her limbs hurt from dancing and from getting mauled by Tam in the corridor, and her head was full of the dull thud of a champagne hangover.

What surprised her most of all, though, was the shiver of arousal she felt still tingling in her sex. It had stayed with her all night, a restless, hungry excitement that compelled her to twist around in bed until the sheets were a tangled mess and she wanted to scream. She’d barely slept, but felt wired with a nervy energy she couldn’t shake off.

As she showered and made herself breakfast, she was aware that her body was practically thrumming with desire. As though Mike had struck her with a tuning fork, got her pitch perfect, so in heat that she wouldn’t be able to rest until she’d fucked him.

And it was looking likely that she’d be doing so that very afternoon. A quick phone call yielded the promise of seeing him alone in his studio, the thought of which made her palms damp and her legs shaky. Even their brief conversation turned her on – the sound of his voice tickling her ear like a promise.