Brass and copper pans hung from a dark Welsh dresser and the air smelt of face powder, lavender and fresh baking. Teaspoons tinkled against fine china as the conversation hummed like a swarm of summer bees.
Phoebe was eyeing Katie with a cautious look.
‘He’s trouble. I’m telling you, Kate, darling, Carew is trouble. He’ll eat you whole and spit you out again. Can’t you go hunting someone else? How about sticking with Edgar? He’s a sweet dear. Good body - good sport - good in bed.’
Katie pursed her lips and quizzically raised her eyebrows.
Phoebe coloured up. ‘It was only once or twice Katie. I didn’t think you’d mind that much the way you are.’
‘And what, Phoebe Courtly, do you mean by that?’ Katie let her spoon fall and rattle in her saucer.
Phoebe’s cheeks went the same colour as the edging on her slate grey suit. It was bright red. The pretty cloche hat that covered her head and curved round her face like the petals of a tulip was red too. Phoebe was always colour co-ordinated. Except for her cigarette holder that is. That was black and, at this moment in time, it was wobbling nervously in her hand.
‘I only meant you’re too free a spirit for your own good,’ she stammered slightly. ‘You flit from man to man like a wandering butterfly.’ She paused as Katie began to smile. ‘You’re not really annoyed are you?’
Katie laughed. ‘Over Edgar? Good grief, no. I’ve got other things on my mind.’
She pretended to be interested in the mix of people sitting at other tables. In her mind, she recalled to memory the looks and figure of Carew Bentley Thompson: dark hair; aristocratic, perhaps even arrogant features. It was his eyes, she remembered, that were the most enthralling. Not a light wishy-washy blue of a summer sky or a calm lake. They were neither of those. Like chips of blue diamond, they had a hard sparkle that changed to different shades in different lights, but never lost their original value.
She also remembered the tone of his voice as he had given orders to the naked blonde girl.
‘Are you still thinking about Carew?’ asked Phoebe. She looked slightly worried.
‘He’s very masterful,’ Katie said thoughtfully. ‘The sort that always likes to be in charge - in control.’
Phoebe raised her eyebrows. ‘I. thought you didn’t approve of masterful men. I thought you believed that women were as good as men any day. Of course, I never believed it myself, mark you.’
‘Well I do!’
Recognising that Katie had climbed on her favourite hobby horse, Phoebe sank into her chair.
Katie leaned towards her, her eyes bright with intent. ‘A cousin of mine married a man like that. Before going to bed, he used to make her walk naked before him. Then he would make her kneel and read out all the good things she’d done that day, and all the bad things too. The bad, of course, always outweighed the good. My cousin kept a diary and each evening her husband made her write down in it the good points and bad points. On Saturday night he would count them up, then tie her to the end of the bed, beat her backside and let her hang there all night. On Sunday they would attend church where she was to pray for forgiveness for her shortcomings.’
Phoebe, although used to Katie and her stories which might or might not be true, was wide-eyed. ‘But why did she stay with him?’
Katie smiled. ‘Because each night after she had written in her diary, he would take her to bed and thank her in the most physical way for all the good things that she had done.’
‘He did?’
Phoebe’s eyes were wide. Her chin dropped almost to her chest.
But the story had been told, and Katie’s thoughts had moved on.
‘Last night, that man mastered a woman,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘He had it all his own way - always has done by the sound of it. Up until now that is. It’s time the boot was on the other foot. It’s time a woman got the best of him, and I’m going to do it! I’m going to use him as he used that woman, only he’s not going to discard me once I’ve done that. He’s going to be my life-long slave. I promise you that, I really do!’
Phoebe’s eyes opened wide.
‘You’re crazy!’
‘No I’m not. Remember what he said? So far, no woman has been a match for him. Well, this one is - or will be!’
‘But how will you do it, Katie? No one ever gets him to themselves - or at least - not for very long. He flits from one woman to another. He’s got a bevy of beauties around him all the time, and he changes them as often as he changes his socks. Not that I’m saying - ’
‘Now, Phoebe. Were you going to say that he prefers blondes? Were you going to say that I don’t have a chance with my sort of looks?’
Phoebe shook her head. Her look was suddenly softer and full of adoration as she admired the strong but beautiful face, the high cheekbones and dark grey eyes of Katie Fisher.
‘Oh you’ve got the looks alright. I’d swop my fair hair with your black any day. And your eyes. You’ve got an incredible combination of looks, Katie Fisher. But it might not be enough. Even if I got you an invitation to Thompson Towers again - and I think I can - it still won’t give you time enough to get close to him - really close. Only the servants and family get that close to him.’
Katie cocked her head to one side.
‘Can you get me another invitation?’
‘Yes.’ At the same time as Phoebe smiled, her hand patted, then stayed on Katie’s knee. ‘Anything for you, darling. Anything at all. But you mustn’t allow this to become an obsession. He’s not likely to be an easy conquest.’
Katie shrugged and frowned. She felt a certain affection for her plan and did not really wish to entertain any doubts. After all, Phoebe was basically right. She was just another pretty face among many, but an obsessive desire had been born within her to be more than that. She had to get close to him and his life. That, she decided, was something to think on. In the meantime, the day was bright, women had got the vote and were firmly establishing their place in the world. Besides that, the rest of the day was hers.
With a knowing smile, she winked at Phoebe.
‘What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?’
Phoebe flushed. Her pale blue eyes twinkled with sudden merriment and her cheeks blossomed like roses. ‘I know what I’d like to do.’ She fluttered her eyelashes and she said it in best Clara Bow fashion. Her fingers tightened over Katie’s knee.
Katie shifted in her chair, her legs opening slightly.
Phoebe caught her meaning. They huddled closer and looked to be just two young women in close conversation. But Katie and Phoebe were more than that. They were alive and young and eager for everything that life could offer. Phoebe’s fingers pulled the hem of Katie’s soft green skirt as high as her garters.
‘That feels very nice,’ said Katie as she responded to the touch of Phoebe’s wandering fingertips. But no one watching would know that. To any curious eyes, she looked to be listening with usual intensity to whatever her friend was saying. As she took a sip of tea from the willow-patterned cup, her eyes darted around those sat at the other tables: women talking to women, wives with husbands, mothers with daughters. She caught the eye of one or two of the men and smiled. They smiled back and, beneath the cover of the table, she opened her exposed thighs that much wider.
‘Your flesh is very firm,’ murmured Phoebe. ‘Your skin is like satin. I have no doubt that Carew would like his fingers to be where mine are at this moment.’
Katie murmured her agreement. It was difficult to do more in such a public place. Lightly and deliciously, Phoebe’s fingertips were circling over the satin smoothness of her inner thighs. The effect was tantalising and, immediately, an ooze of moistness seeped throughout her cluster of sexual keys.
She could not help but sigh loud and long. Nobody at the other tables turned to question her sig
h. Young women always sigh at their lot, their life and their loves.
But to Phoebe, the sigh was irresistible. Like the men who could not resist the Siren’s song, Phoebe’s fingers travelled to the crotch of Katie’s camiknickers.
One finger eased beneath the narrow strip of material and teased the fleshy treasures that peeped so shyly through the black-haired lips.
As her ardour rose and her wetness erupted, Katie opened her legs that much wider. Beneath the privacy of the table, Phoebe’s fingers and palm covered her whole sex. She murmured as Phoebe’s red-painted fingernail dipped into her open portal. It was a gentle manoeuvre, but also a determined one.
‘So you will get me that invitation?’ asked Katie suddenly and breathlessly, her tea cup held in both hands whilst Phoebe’s hand did other things.
Phoebe breathed deeply, then nodded. ‘Yes, but what will you do for me?’
Katie shrugged and smiled.
‘A forfeit. A labour of love.’ Phoebe’s eyes were now shining brightly. Beneath the cover of the tablecloth, she was pinching Katie’s pubic lips between her fingers.
‘I want to steal a teaspoon,’ whispered Phoebe.
Katie smiled down into her empty tea cup which she still clasped in her hands. ‘You what?’
‘You heard. I’ll steal it. You take it out. Are you ready?’
Katie was amused, but did not laugh out loud. She saw Phoebe’s hand rise to the table and take hold of a teaspoon. Briefly, she glanced at the other customers and the scurrying staff.
Phoebe’s fingers returned to Katie’s crotch. She shifted in her chair as the same red-painted fingers that had flicked at her clitoris and pinched at her pubic lips, now slid the coldness of a metal teaspoon through her moist flesh and towards her vagina.
‘Are you ready?’ murmured Phoebe very close to her ear.
‘Yes. I’m ready.’
Tightly, her fingers gripped her now-empty cup. Again she shifted in her chair so that her hips were further forward. Guided by Phoebe’s fingers, the spoon was going inside her and her muscles were gripping it.
As though she were performing some minor operation. Phoebe was frowning and the tip of her tongue was poking out of the corner of her mouth. At last, with a sigh, her face relaxed.
‘There,’ she said with satisfaction. ‘It’s in place. Grip it for me won’t you. I don’t want you to drop it.’
She laughed and Katie laughed with her as she closed her legs.
Dull faces, stem faces and serious faces turned and looked in their direction.
‘Just young things,’ said one woman to her companion. ‘They seem to think that life’s just a lot of fun and nothing else. Flappers, that’s all they are. They wouldn’t have thought things were so funny in the old queen’s day. They would have had to behave like real ladies with their skirts covering their ankles. Nowadays they barely reach their knees!’
Her friend pursed her lips and nodded.
Even when they were paying the bill, Katie and Phoebe didn’t stop laughing. They weren’t living in Queen Victoria’s day. This was the second decade of the twentieth century. After a dreadful war that had seen the male population depleted and heralded women’s emancipation, they had entered a fun time and had every intention of enjoying it.
They waved to the woman who had disapproved of their high spirits. She snorted, tutted, and turned away.
‘Let’s go to your place,’ said Phoebe to Katie once they were outside. ‘We can do naughty things all afternoon.’
Katie laughed. ‘Just us two? With no men around?’
‘Oh, yes please.’
‘And will you take the spoon out when we get there?’
‘Yes,’ murmured Phoebe again. ‘Of course I will.’
Katie danced along the pavement and, breathless, Phoebe followed.
‘But you put it in while we were in a public place, so you should take it out in one.’
‘Oh no, we can’t do that,’ said Phoebe. ‘Let’s get a taxi. We’ll be at your place in no time.’
‘No,’ said Katie as she pinched Phoebe’s pink cheeks. ‘We’ll walk. I want to walk.’
Phoebe looked crestfallen, but knew it was useless to argue. Whatever Katie wanted, Katie got.
‘Down here,’ said Katie as they reached the place where the road forked and trams rattled off in two different directions.
Phoebe stopped in her tracks.
‘We can’t go down there!’
‘Of course we can.’ Katie smiled at her friend over her shoulder as she marched off down a road no decent woman was ever expected to walk. ‘It’s a short cut. Come on.’
Dutifully, Phoebe broke into a run to catch up with her friend.
‘I don’t like it down here.’ Her eyes flitted nervously between the dusty shop windows and the boarded-up doors. ‘I’ve heard it’s all thieves and tarts down here. We could get robbed! We could get raped!’
Katie took her arm and hugged it close.
‘Stop being a silly goose. Look. Do you see anyone here? It’s midday and there’s no one around. Those sort of things only happen at night. We’ll get home safely. Trust me.’
As they walked, Phoebe continued to eye the rundown buildings and dusty pavements that were baking like ruined bread in the sun.
They crossed to the shady side of the street where black shadows darkened the doorways of the closed-down shops and seedy houses.
Not once had Katie’s smile left her face. She looked at her friend sidelong. Oh, Phoebe, but you’re not the brave girl you think you are. Deep down you’re frightened of the decadent, the seedy and the perverse. Now how can I take your mind off your fears?
‘Oh dear,’ she said as she came to a sudden stop. ‘I think your teaspoon might be sliding out. Do you think you’d better check it, Phoebe darling?’
Phoebe’s nervousness immediately disappeared. Her face brightened.
‘Oh yes!’ she exclaimed. ‘Yes, I suppose I’d better.
But where?’
Her head jerked this way and that with excitement.
Her eyes flitted to the narrow alleys that ran between some buildings.
‘In here,’ said Katie suddenly, and dragged her into an empty shop doorway.
Katie congratulated herself. It was a good choice. The doorway was deep and set well back from the street. Besides that, it was cool, dark and private.
Breathlessly, they stared at each other; Katie as cool and dark as her surroundings; Phoebe, flushed and excited.
‘Well go on,’ whispered Katie, her legs straight open. ‘Check that it’s still there.’
Slowly, Phoebe sank to her knees on the chipped black and white tiles of the shop doorway. As Katie held up her pretty green skirt with the dark blue trim, Phoebe’s fingers slid the crotch of her knickers to one side. Gently, she parted Katie’s feathered lips with the fingers of one hand, whilst the fingers of the other sought the handle of the teaspoon.
Katie could feel Phoebe’s breath on her thighs and her pubic divide. She circled her hips and murmured with pleasure as its warmth and its presence daintily aroused her senses. It was a pleasant accompaniment to the prying fingers that were entering her sex.
Phoebe’s fingers filled her womb, and her thumb pressed against her tight little rosebud so that it tingled. A moistness seeped from deep inside.
‘It’s still there,’ murmured Phoebe breathlessly as she withdrew her fingers.
Katie closed her legs. ‘I thought it would be. In fact, I think I deserve a kiss for keeping it so safe and secure.’
Phoebe looked up at her from somewhere around her belly. Her smile was wide and her eyes were dancing with excitement.
‘Then I shall give you one!’
Katie half closed her eyes and mewed with deli
ght as Phoebe’s mouth kissed the lips of her sex. She looked down to see the red hat bobbing back and forth as Phoebe worked her with her tongue.
How pleasant, she thought, to get someone to do this in such a dark and dismal, yet public place. The very fact that they could be discovered, heightened the excitement and added a sweet piquancy to the moment.
There were dark shadows and dust and dirt around them, yet there was also the brightness of Phoebe’s hat and the delightfulness of her agile tongue, which even now was circling Katie’s clit and eliciting squeals of ecstasy from her throat.
She breathed in the dust and smell of decay in the doorway of the closed-down shop, yet the perfume of her own sex and the dizzying tingle of lavender water added .a strange magic to those more dank smells.
Through narrowed eyes and with eddies of delight sweeping upwards from her loins, she observed the oblong gap where the doorway met the road. It seemed darker than it had been. Her breath caught in her throat. Someone was there.
‘Dirty little cows!’
His voice, as well as his body, filled the doorway and echoed off the dirty glass panes of the windows.
Phoebe started and sprang to her feet. Her eyes were round and staring and Katie’s sexual juice was shining on her lips and around her mouth.
‘Your skirt!’ Phoebe cried, nodding towards Katie’s naked lower thighs.
Katie did not move. She stood very still and looked very directly at the man.
He was swarthy, rugged and had a livid scar down one cheek. For a moment, she glimpsed the wildness in his eyes, the sheer hardness of his mouth.
He did not hold her look. He lowered his eyes to Katie’s naked flesh. His cheeks reddened and his tongue licked the length of his lips.
Obsession Page 3
