She sat saying nothing, her heart pounding over her chest, until Valerie took her arm and spoke into her ear. 'OK lovely, come with me.' She arose and a hand took her by the elbow. They began to walk, Karen taking hesitant and uncertain steps on the soft carpet.
She had sat with her back to the main door when Valerie put on the harness and so knew that they were moving towards the covered chair, the chair in which those few months ago she had rested, spread and helpless, while Valerie and Kim had carried out the permanent depilation of her sex. She anticipated that she was to be restrained in this sinister chair for a second time but she felt the cover brush against her as they moved by.
Next along the room, past the hairdryers and the kitchenette, was the shower room with its toilet and bidet. She slowed down, not wishing to appear willing to enter this last place for she was quite aware, from what she had seen in the past, of what the various items within might be adapted for. Valerie pulled on her wrists, not around to the left where she expected, but on to the end of the room where she remembered there were walk-in cupboards. She remembered also being told that one of these cupboards led to a room beyond via a secret doorway, a room to which Sonia had once taken her in the most intimate and personal of circumstances.
They stopped and she heard a door swing open. A guiding hand ushered her through the door and she could sense the space closing around her as she moved inside. The air was close and full of odours, the strong and distinct smell of leather mixing with the more subtle aroma of latex and other materials which renewed a number of memories. Karen moved slowly on, brushing against what she knew must be hanging garments, some cool or even cold to the touch, others soft and intimate like nylon or lace. Valerie stopped her and pushed by. She heard a key being inserted into a lock and a door opening. Warmer air greeted her, the odours of the cupboard disappeared and her feet trod upon a different carpet, not quite as soft or deep as in the parlour.
'Val, please,' she said again, 'what's happening? I thought we were doing a massage!'
'All in good time, deary,' came the reply from beyond the darkness as she continued forward. 'Lift your feet, you're stepping on to towelling.'
Karen did so and felt the material under her toes. Valerie moved her forward a little further before halting her progress and turning her a quarter way around. Since passing into this room, she had become quite disorientated and had no idea which way she faced or how close she might be to any other object.
She instinctively resisted as a hand closed about each of her manacled wrists and the voice said, 'Lift up - come on, right up!'
She allowed her arms to be pulled upward and felt her hands brushed against something cool and metallic. She realised it was a hanging chain. There was a soft click and the hands moved away from her, but she could not move her own arms down again. Between her hands she instinctively grasped the chain to which the handcuffs were securely attached, and waited in silence. Her right ankle was taken hold of and pulled outwards. She resisted, gripping the chain to keep her balance, but to no avail, for something hard and cool was quickly fitted about the ankle and held it fast. Her left leg was pulled aside next, increasing the tension in her arms and holding her body almost rigid as that ankle too was fixed immobile in its steel cuff. For a time she stood silent in her obscured world, hearing nothing but the creak of the chains which held her naked body helpless like an inverted letter 'Y'.
At length she whispered, 'Val, where are you?' There was no reply. 'Val, say something!'
In return to her plea, there was still silence. Somehow she knew that Valerie was gone and that she was alone. She stopped moving and listened. Her heart measured the passage of time but otherwise the silence was, like the darkness, total. Why had Valerie covered her eyes? Why was she not allowed to see? Was not being chained up like this enough? Perhaps Valerie had gone back to the parlour for something she had forgotten. Maybe she had gone to put on the rubber gloves she had worn before. She must come back soon. She must.
There was a sound. From somewhere behind her, something or somebody moved.
'Val, is that you?'
She could hear breathing, a faint rustling of clothes and the sound of something being placed gently upon a wooden table top.
'Val, please! Who-who's there? Say something, please. Ahhh!' she cried out as hands ran down either side of her body from chest to waist. The hands stayed on her waist and the feel of latex gloves, like a smooth, warm skin upon the fingers, was unmistakable. Karen trembled and breathed in. It must be Valerie. It must be all part of the game they were playing. The hands left her waist and she sensed her moving away, only to feel the presence again moments later.
She tensed sharply as something liquid fell between her breasts and began to run slowly down over her stomach. The latex fingers at once began to spread it about her breasts and under her arms. It was warm and pleasant, and the aroma of spices entered her nostrils. She remembered this oil from the past. The hands did not play about the front of her for long, for the oil was next applied and spread on her back, the fingers smoothing it down to her waist and over the tops of her buttocks. Her thighs and legs received it next, the hands working the oil about from her upper legs to down below her knees. Her body was becoming pleasantly warm and the hands, now at her upper back and shoulders, were massaging more firmly and methodically, smoothing the oil deep into her skin. They progressed all about her, slipping over her breasts and nipples, pinching and squeezing, running down her stomach as far as the smooth and hairless area above her sex, over her thighs and behind - everywhere except that part of her where she at any moment expected the lubricated fingers must invade. The sensual attention of the hands was telling on her and she was starting to burn inside as well as out. She knew where the fingers were going to go but they were making her wait, withholding from her what her body was beginning to crave. She wanted to relax a little in the chains but could not for the strain it put upon her manacled wrists. The hands stopped.
A moment passed and she felt warm breath upon her face. She opened her mouth to speak but no words emerged, for lips closed upon hers and stifled her voice with voluptuous passion. It was not Valerie. A hand started to move down her stomach and the lips moved from her mouth to her neck.
'Sonia!' she gasped.
'Karen,' whispered the voice, close to her cheek.
Their lips joined again and the fingers found her sex, inflamed and wet with her own excitement. She moaned and tried to thrust forward to take the fingers deeper but there was no need for they stroked and slid further in and electrified her entire body, making her breath come in short gasps. She gripped hard on the chain between her hands, threw back her head and arched her back, twisting violently and crying out as the smouldering lust flared up to overwhelm her body and mind.
It was over and her limbs were free of the restraints. Karen remained, nevertheless, standing where she had stood since Valerie left her, one hand clutching the chain above while she flexed her arms and legs, aching a little because of the way she had been held. Still she was unable to see, for the head harness could not be removed until the small padlocks were undone, and the one who had intruded into her dark world had, so far, not allowed this.
She sensed a presence once more and a hand - Sonia's hand she knew - but minus its rubber glove, closed about her wrist.
'Open your hand,' came the voice. Karen did so and something small and hard was pressed into it. She closed her fingers about the small key. 'By the time you undo this, I shall be gone. Please remember that this never happened, it was all part of a dream.'
'Yes, but Val ...'
'Valerie was never here - do you understand?'
'Yes,' breathed Karen, 'I understand.'
She reached up with the key and found the first small lock, at the back of her neck. It took a little time to undo it and a little more to release the others before she was able to remove the leather harness. Now she could see.
The room was lit only with the pink cornice ligh
ts but it soon became apparent that Karen was alone, alone except for the chrome and black leather furniture and fittings, all awaiting a willing or otherwise human form, each to restrain or contain in its own manner. She returned the way she had been brought, letting the secret door click shut behind her.
She passed between the racks of clothes and other items not so easily identifiable. In the dim light she could vaguely see now what before she could only touch. She stopped and held out her hands. Time seemed to be standing still.
She wanted to hesitate in the semi-darkness, with all of these intimate things crowding in upon her, cool and sensual against her nakedness, and to push between them and discover what lay behind. Perhaps, down there, was another door, a hidden door to be passed through in pensive silence, like entering a looking-glass world, a world of sinister and bizarre things, where time meant nothing, where the ritual was all. She breathed in the silence and the closeness, daring herself to remain longer. Listening.
There was nobody in the beauty parlour. Her gold lame dress had been carefully laid out, with her shoes and lace briefs, upon the bench where she had sat. The oil had dried on her skin but the aroma lingered so she showered quickly before dressing. She did not want to go to the office wearing the gold dress. It did not feel appropriate. She told herself it was because of the time of day but knew it was because she wanted to become her old self again. The dress was too short, tight and revealing; all right for the evening or a trip out to an intimate restaurant, perhaps.
Once the parlour door had clicked shut behind her, she hurried along the corridor to the seldom used rear stairs. Turning the corner she came face to face with Pauline and stopped abruptly.
'Oh! I - I didn't see you,' she said.
Pauline's face broke into a smile, the smile of one convinced of ultimate supremacy over an opponent. She wore a long black satin gown with gold braided collar, its austere form contrasting with her large pale blue eyes, silver-blonde pageboy hair and soft features. She looked up and down Karen's body as a hangman might do when assessing the weight of the next candidate for the gallows. Karen lowered her arms as far as she could, being aware of the still visible marks upon her wrists where the steel cuffs had held her.
'How nice to have you back,' Pauline remarked, moving aside to allow Karen room to pass by.
Tm sure it is,' answered Karen coolly before continuing upward, resisting the temptation to look back but wondering if the eyes at the bottom of the stairs were following her.
Sonia was working at her desk when Karen entered. She aro?"? and walked towards her, smiling. This was a smile of greeting, a smile of fondness and more. She kissed Karen on the cheek and squeezed her affectionately, her dark eyes with their hint of the Orient looking into Karen's.
'I'm so happy you decided to come back, my dear.'
'I have to tell you, Sonia,' she sighed, 'there were times when I couldn't wait, really. And look here, I've brought back your locket.'
She held out her hand with the precious silver locket and its chain curled up on the open palm. Sonia regarded it in silence for a few seconds.
'No, keep it, please. Now you're here again, it's here too, so I can always see it when I want.'
'Yes, all right,' answered Karen. Til wear it just on special occasions though. I won't let the others see it, I don't think.'
'No, perhaps you shouldn't,' replied Sonia. 'We'll keep it just to ourselves the way we keep other things to ourselves. I know you understand.'
'Yes, I understand.'
School Lessons
He was applying the last few drops of paint to the refurbished summerhouse when her voice reached his ears.
'Mike - there you are!'
'Hi!' he shouted.
Jackie strolled up to him, the sun filtering through the trees and shimmering gold upon her long hair. His eyes took in her slim form dressed in a white T-shirt moulding thinly over her breasts and a denim mini-skirt with a designer frayed hem.
'What are you doing out here in those shoes?' he asked, eyeing her blue stiletto heel sandals.
'Oh, it's OK,' she replied, grinning, 'they're pretty old but they'll clean up anyway. Look - er, she wants to see you at twelve o'clock. You've to go to her office and not look scruffy. Actually, I'm supposed to say "look reasonably presentable".'
'Did Sonia really say that?' he laughed. 'Don't look scruffy?'
'Sonia? It's not her I'm talking about, it's Pauline!'
'Eh? Pauline? Wants me - in her office - what for?'
'I've to say I don't know - sorry.'
He put down the brush and placed his hands on his hips. Tm not supposed to go up there, you know that.'
'Well you are now, lover boy,' she said, grinning impishly. 'I think she might fancy you!'
'Bloody hell,' he muttered, picking up the paint brush and wrapping it in a piece of polythene.
'Are you coming back now?' Jackie asked. 'I'll walk with you as far as the chalet if you are.'
He knelt down, tapping the lid back onto the paint can, glancing at the lower part of her body. He looked at his watch. It was only five past ten. 'You fancy coming back for a drink?'
She smiled and folded her arms. 'I would, but I, er, I don't think we'd better just now.'
'All right, what's it about?' he asked as they set off towards the path. Jackie remained silent. 'Come on, I'm going to know soon enough anyway.'
Jackie stopped, turned to face him and took a deep breath. 'Mike, she'll kill me if she finds out. I daren't!'
He put down the carrier bag with its tin and brushes, took hold of her and kissed her. 'Look sweetheart, I wouldn't give you away, you know that.'
She looked up into his eyes, lips slightly parted, her fingers clutching his arms. 'You promise, Mike, you won't let on?'
'I promise. God's honour!'
'Come on, Mike, you don't believe in God!'
'OK, on my honour then. I'll swear on my honour if that's good enough.'
'Well . .. they have a show arranged and, em ... the male model can't make it.'
'Can't make it - you mean he's had too much to drink?' said Mike, grinning.
'No, I mean he can't come.'
'It's the same thing, isn't it?'
'Oh, Mike!' she said, pushing him back. 'I'm trying to be serious!'
'Look,' he said, pulling her back up close to him, 'are you in it?'
'Er, yes, I am.'
He pressed his lips against hers, tasting her perfumed breath and feeling her warm softness against his body. His hand moved down and squeezed her behind.
Then I'll look forward to it,' he whispered into her ear.
She sighed, relieved that he had not insisted on more information, wondering what he would say if he knew all of it. Perhaps it might not matter. She never quite knew with Mike.
* * *
'Give me a shout if you spot them, won't you, and I'll put the coffee on.'
'Yes, of course,' replied Karen. 'I'll keep an eye open.'
Sonia had said they were due at 11.30. It was now 11.35. But it was only minutes after Sonia had spoken to her that Karen saw first one and then a second white car appear, disappear, then reappear through the trees along the driveway.
'It looks like them,' called Karen from around the door.
'Do you want to bring them through?'
'Yes, I will, then I'll make myself scarce.'
'Not on my account,' responded Sonia, rising from her desk. 'You stay unless you wish otherwise.'
The two cars were pulling up to the front of the house when Karen stepped out into the porch. The car doors opened, accompanied by the sound of chatter and laughter. As the girls clambered from the cars, four from one and three from the other, something scurried past Karen's feet and disappeared up the main hallway.
'Oh, Pancake,' she said, laughing, as the ginger cat, disturbed from his daytime slumber in the shade, took to the front stairs in the pursuit of peace and quiet elsewhere.
The seven girls, each carrying a travel b
ag, approached the main doors. Karen saw they were all young, slim and attractive, two of them dusky skinned, none of them seeming to be over the age of twenty. None of them were dressed in any manner out of the ordinary, but wore tops and denims or summer dresses. She thought they had been speaking English, though with foreign accents, but now, as they greeted her with their smiles, they were all silent.
'Please come this way,' she said to them.
Some twenty minutes later, another figure approached the main entrance and strode into the hallway. He hesitated, having noted the two cars outside. He stopped again in the main hallway, listened to the babble of conversation and laughter flowing from the bar to his left and glanced inside. After a few moments he looked about, and seeing the main office to the right empty, proceeded a little further on and swung around to hurry up the main stairs.
Jackie had not, of course, needed to tell him where on the first floor Pauline's office was located. His earlier visits to the rooms there, originally clandestine but later 'official', had provided him with that information. He had never before, though, been summoned into her lair. He arrived at the door with mixed expectations.
'Come in!' sounded the voice, and he entered briskly, as if to make his visit appear no more than routine.
Seeing her at her desk to his right, he hesitated, glancing briefly about the room before proceeding onward to the waiting chair in front of her.
'Do you approve?' she asked, with a hint of sarcasm.
He looked around once more with contrived deliberation. 'No gibbet, not even a rack - I'm disappointed,' he said, smiling.
She regarded him coolly for a long time. 'They can easily be arranged,' she breathed, fitting her fingers together, prayer-like, under her chin.
He shuffled slightly in the chair, trying to maintain an amiable expression, suddenly doubting the wisdom of the remark.
'What has she told you?' Pauline asked, her large blue eyes fixed hard upon him.
'Told me? Who? Jackie?'
'Yes, Jackie!'
'Only that you wanted to talk to me, so here I am.'
'Good,' she said, smiling without a hint of humour.
House of Intrigue Page 5
