Hearts and Diamonds

by Justine Elyot

  ‘We haven’t set a date yet, but I don’t see the point in hanging about. Jason’s got more than enough work to show, and as long as the pre-publicity’s good, we should expect plenty of viewers.’

  ‘I should reckon so! Folk’ll give their right arm to see inside your house.’

  ‘Well, quite. It’s a bit annoying to think that people will be more interested in what kind of bedding I use than Jason’s art, but that’s the world we live in, isn’t it?’

  ‘Sad but true. So you’ll want me to do what?’

  ‘Prepare a press release for the Bledburn Gazette. Organise a printer for some posters. Source a caterer. I’ve got my gallery-owning friend Tabitha for advice – I’ll give you her number. She’ll have plenty of ideas. The show is officially hosted by her gallery, so you’ll need to mention that on all the advertising . . .’ Jenna trailed off, noticing that Kayley was looking rather beleaguered.

  ‘It’s a big job,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to muck it up.’

  ‘You won’t. I’m here – I’ll be involved as well. And so will Tabitha. And, in the end, the only person who can really muck it up is Jason, if he suddenly decides not to do it.’

  ‘Not to do what?’

  Jason reappeared at the French windows, Bowyer purring in his arms.

  ‘The show. I’m just telling Kayley.’

  ‘Oh, yeah. Milk, no sugar, ta.’

  He let Bowyer pad away on the granite tiling, looking for a cooler spot to curl up than the arid garden, and sat down beside Jenna.

  Kayley brought the tea over and sat down opposite them.

  ‘You’d better start sifting through your work,’ Jenna said to Jason. ‘Decide which pictures you want to exhibit.’

  He nodded.

  ‘I can’t get my head round it,’ he said to Kayley. ‘Who would have thought I’d ever be in this situation?’

  She smiled ruefully back.

  ‘Life’s thrown us all a few surprises lately,’ she said.

  Jenna felt the truth of this deep in her heart.

  ‘Good surprises, mainly,’ she added.

  They chatted about the gallery, and some of their London experiences (barring the racier ones) until Kayley had finished her tea and was ready to go home.

  ‘Tomorrow we’ll make a start on our publicity,’ Jenna told her, showing her out. ‘I promise you, by the end of this summer, Jason will be a star.’

  Jason, standing behind Jenna, put his hands on her shoulders.

  ‘What do you mean, “will be”?’ he joked. ‘I’ve already made all the front pages.’

  ‘For all the wrong reasons,’ said Jenna severely, shutting the door. She turned around to face him, putting her hands around his neck. ‘But not this time. This time, the reasons will be right.’

  They woke up one bright morning a week or so later, to hear Bowyer scratching at the door and mewing plaintively.

  Jenna put the pillow over her head while Jason laughed softly and rose from the bed, splendidly naked, to sort out some feline breakfast in the kitchen.

  Jenna, awaiting his return, ran through a mental checklist of the day’s tasks. Finish painting the bedroom ceiling. Cut back some more of the out of control rose bushes. Get the poster design to the printer. Negotiate with one of the classier glossies to cover the event. God, it was all so much like when she was at work that she wondered how she dared call it a sabbatical.

  At least she didn’t have to go into any office, she thought. She could do it all naked if she really wanted to. She threw aside her summer-weight duvet and sat up, looking down at her body.

  God, it was getting obvious she wasn’t working out very much. She did yoga, and stuck to a Pilates routine when she remembered, but most of her exercise these days came from sex. And very good exercise it was, too, but she could still use some toning around the upper arms. Jason would complain, of course. He said he liked her with a bit of curve. Especially her bum.

  She rolled over and tried to twist her neck around to observe that part of her. Useless. She’d have to look in the mirror.

  She hopped out of bed and examined her back view in the freestanding full-length mirror she’d had delivered a few days ago. She was quite satisfied with it, smiling dreamily as she thought of all the ways Jason had to enjoy what she offered.

  She patted it with one hand, enjoying the firmness under her palm and the slight resistance. How was it that Jason’s hand felt so different from her own? What was it that he did, to make that contact so sensual, and so shocking?

  She tried a smack. The sound was piquant, but the sensation was nothing like what she experienced from her lover. All the same, a patch of faint pink blushed into being. It was pretty. She worked on deepening the colour, but she couldn’t bring herself to hit hard enough.

  ‘How does he do it?’ she asked herself aloud.

  ‘I can show you if you want.’

  Jason leant into the room, hands on the top of the door frame, grinning a wide, louche grin.

  Jenna spun around, hands over her mouth.

  ‘How long have you been there?’ she said, once she’d caught her breath.

  ‘Long enough,’ he teased.

  ‘You shouldn’t spy.’

  ‘What are you going to do about it?’

  He swaggered into the room, impressively for a man who was completely naked and joined her at the mirror.

  ‘You can’t intimidate me,’ she said, but she was already breaking into a flirtatious smile, sensing the beginning of playtime.

  ‘Who said anything about intimidating you?’ he said, arriving behind her and putting his hands on her arms. ‘You said you wanted to know how I did it. Did what?’

  He kissed her ear as she squirmed, unwilling to give an answer.

  ‘Go on,’ he whispered. His voice tickled her ear.

  She watched him in the mirror, enjoying the sight of his height at her shoulder.

  ‘I like this mirror,’ she said, as a diversionary tactic.

  ‘So do I. But you’re trying to dodge the question. How do I do . . . what?’

  ‘I was wondering how you managed to make the impression that you do on my . . . skin.’

  ‘On your . . . skin,’ he mimicked. ‘What, this skin here?’ He nipped at her neck.

  ‘No, I mean . . . You saw what I was doing. Why are you even asking?’

  ‘Cos it’s fun to watch you trying to get out of saying stuff, of course.’

  She watched transfixed as his hands moved to her breasts, cupping them. How giant his hands looked, and how red and stiff her nipples became in them.

  ‘This skin?’ he whispered, tweaking the swollen nubs.

  ‘No! I meant . . . for God’s sake.’ She pushed her bare bottom back into him so that his hardening cock slipped into its crease. ‘This!’

  ‘Oh, I like that,’ he said, holding her there and grinding himself into her. ‘That feels good. Would you like to take it further?’

  She tensed.

  ‘Not like that, not yet,’ she whispered.

  ‘Then when, babe? Because I’ve been waiting a long time for your arse.’

  ‘When I’m ready.’

  ‘Perhaps we ought to start getting you ready.’ He slid a hand down, opening her cheeks, giving himself more space to explore the area with the tip of his engorged cock.

  Jenna was simultaneously turned on and horrified by herself. How could she find such rude treatment pleasurable? But she did. She felt her juices begin to flow in earnest, just imagining Jason pinning her down and making her take it there.

  He mustn’t know, though. What would he think of her?

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said huskily, ‘if I’ll ever be ready for that.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She realised suddenly that she was unconsciously rotating her hips in tiny movements, inviting him closer and deeper. Whatever her mouth said, her body seemed determined to disagree.

  ‘I think you’re readier than you let on,’ said Jason. He kept u
p his pressure for a little bit longer, then released her.

  She wanted to kick herself for the disappointment she felt.

  ‘OK then,’ he said briskly. ‘Spanking masterclass. Let’s get a chair and you can watch in the mirror.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You asked me how I did it. I’m going to show you.’

  He dragged over her armless velvet dressing table chair and sat himself down in it.

  ‘Come on then,’ he said, slapping his bare thigh. ‘Let’s have you.’

  Jenna giggled and shook her head, but she knew this wouldn’t wash for long.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she huffed, obeying after her moment of token resistance.

  ‘Look at yourself in the mirror now,’ ordered Jason.

  Jenna glanced at the mirror and wanted to wail. She looked so extremely undignified, with her hair hanging over her face, her legs waving in the air and her bottom high and well-presented on Jason’s lap.

  ‘What do you think?’ he said.

  ‘I look really awful,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t. You look great. What you need to do is get the right posture. So if you straighten your legs and put your feet on the floor – yeah. See. That looks kind of elegant, especially if you keep them like that while I spank you. Tenner says you can’t though.’

  It was an improvement, she had to admit. Her legs looked endless and shapely, and her bottom a luscious rounded peak. She gripped the frill that ran around the bottom of the chair in both fists in order to anchor herself in position.

  ‘Tenner, eh?’

  ‘Is the bet on?’

  ‘All right. Ten pounds to you if I kick my legs.’

  ‘Done. And you will be. Right, watch your bum in the mirror and see how quickly I can get it red.’

  He began to spank her, lightly at first, so she could watch with pure fascination, unmixed with discomfort, and see how erotic the sight was. Jason’s hand, falling again and again on her defenceless cheeks, together with the look of intense but pleasurable concentration on his face was a powerful combination. Even more than usual, she was quickly worked up to a state of keen arousal.

  ‘I’m starting slow,’ he said. ‘You can already see how I’m doing it differently to what you were, when you thought you were alone. You were holding back right at the last second, because you can’t hurt yourself. I don’t hold back. That’s the only difference really.’

  Now he really wasn’t holding back. The opening warm-up was over and his hand fell heavily on her wobbling flesh. She wanted to kick her legs, but she concentrated hard on keeping them straight and diagonal, putting all of herself into her thigh and calf muscles, so that they ached along with the sting of her behind. This dissipation of pain worked for a while, and she felt strong at being able to take what Jason gave and still hold on to her dignity.

  But dignity made a swift exit when he upped his heft to level three. Her bottom, already stained a rose petal pink, soon crimsoned. Her feet waggled at first, her ankles rotating, then they were lifted clear of the floor for a good kick.

  ‘Told ya,’ crowed Jason. ‘Ten easy ones for me. I’m going to give you ten with the paddle to celebrate.’

  ‘Oh, you . . .’ But she didn’t continue. She didn’t want anything else added.

  ‘Stand up. Back to the mirror. Look over your shoulder at your arse while I fetch the paddle. It might look red now, but believe me, it’ll be redder by the time I finish with you.’

  She pressed her thighs together, feeling the heat between them as she observed the deep red hue of her bottom. But there was more to come. She allowed herself to enjoy the fullness of the quiver that ran through her at the thought. Then she imagined what she saw in the mirror on the front page of a tabloid, in glorious technicolour. The idea of it squeezed a breath from her. She was already famous for her love life. But they didn’t know the half of it. If they did . . .

  Jason breezed back, paddle in hand. He took her in his arms, kissing her, while he rested the paddle against her bum cheeks. It felt deliciously cool there for a moment. Just a moment, though – until he started patting it on her hot spots.

  ‘Right then,’ he whispered. ‘Bend over, right over, with your hands on your ankles, so you can see through your legs. And look at the mirror.’

  ‘Thank God for yoga,’ said Jenna dryly, adopting the suggested pose. ‘I’d never be able to hold this position otherwise.’

  She looked through her legs at the mirror, seeing her face, flushed, and with hair hanging down to the floor. She had to strain her eyes a bit to see as far up as her bottom, but she could do it if she tried. Most shaming of all was how this position opened her up so that her pussy lips were wide and nothing was hidden from view.

  Jason understood the awkwardness of the stance and he stood close with a hand on her spine to keep her steady.

  He was quick and firm with the paddle, laying on five hard strokes to each side, moving lower with each one so that strokes nine and ten were squarely on the tops of her thighs.

  Each smack made Jenna yelp and let go of her ankles, but she recovered herself swiftly each time, with the help of Jason’s hand on her back.

  ‘And that,’ he said, with one extra stroke for luck, ‘is what happens when you challenge me.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ she whimpered, letting go of her ankles to succumb to the overwhelming temptation to rub her sore bottom.

  ‘Well, sort of. Anyway, there’s your answer. I’ll take my tenner after you’ve said thank you.’

  ‘Thank you?’

  ‘When I say “said” thank you, I’m thinking more of a show of gratitude. A show of gratitude on the bed with you on all fours. Am I clear?’

  He patted her bottom and she thrust out her lower lip for a second before smiling and hurling herself on to the bed.

  They were both too aroused for the sex to last long. A minute or so of low moans and ‘oh yeahs’ from Jason, and the two of them collapsed, sated and sweaty, on to the duvet.

  ‘Only one thing could have improved that start to the day,’ said Jason, once words returned to him.

  ‘Oh? And what’s that?’

  ‘Getting inside your sweet, tight little arse.’

  He reached around to cup and squeeze it.

  ‘After all,’ he said, ‘it belongs to me.’

  ‘Does it now?’ Jenna wanted to argue, but in her heart, she couldn’t. She wanted to give him this gift.

  ‘You know it does.’ He kissed her parched lips. ‘So tell me, babe. Is it on the cards?’

  ‘I never say never,’ she said lightly.

  ‘Never’s a long time to be looking at your hot, smacked bum without being able to have it.’

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Here’s the deal. We work up to it, little by little, and if I’m ready by the day of the private view, you can do it that night.’

  ‘Are you serious? My own private view, after the private view?’

  ‘If you want to put it like that. But we’ll work up to it, remember. I’m not going into it cold.’

  ‘Cold is the last thing you’ll be,’ promised Jason. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll stock up on lube and stuff. You’ll be good and ready by the time the show comes round. You might even want it sooner.’ He winked.

  ‘Don’t hold your breath. It’s a big idea to get used to. I’m not as grossed out by the thought as I used to be, though.’ She didn’t add that she was secretly highly aroused by it. Best to let him think she was nervous, so that he took it as slowly and gently as possible.

  ‘You won’t regret it,’ he said, drawing her into ecstatic kisses of gratitude.

  Withdrawing, sleepy-eyed again despite their having only recently woken up, he said, ‘Speaking of regrets.’

  ‘Oh? What? What are you regretting?’ Jenna’s eyes opened wide from the near-slumber into which she was so pleasantly falling.

  ‘Not me. I’ve got no regrets, believe me.’ He kissed her again. ‘I was thinking of our ghost mate. Her from a hundred and f
ifty years ago. I’m going to be listening out for funny noises again tonight, now that I know a bit about her. We still don’t know how she ended up as a pile of bones in the cellar.’

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose that’ll be in her diary, unless the killer adds an entry of their own.’

  ‘No, but there’ll be clues. I mean, already she’s got a weirdo husband, two stepdaughters who hate her guts and none of the servants are very friendly either.’

  ‘I thought Lawrence Harville said it was a suicide.’

  ‘Well, if it is, the diary’ll let us know, yeah? She’ll sound all depressed and start talking about ending it all, I suppose. Give us a look. Did you unpack it?’

  ‘I think so.’ Jenna reached an arm over to the bedside table and scrabbled in the drawer until she found the fabric bag in which she kept the book.

  ‘So we’d got to the wedding night?’ she said, trying to chase away the blur in her brain and remember their last reading.

  ‘Yeah, and he was a bit weird and she felt weird about it too,’ contributed Jason.

  ‘So that was March . . .’ She flipped through the pages. ‘Oh. Nothing now until May. Here.’

  May 3rd

  I had resolved to keep this diary no longer. As a married woman, I thought it behoved me to make my husband my confidant and recipient of my deepest thoughts and feelings.

  But there are things I cannot tell him – that he is deaf to – and so, with reluctance, I take up my pen once more.

  I have done what I consider my best to please him and be a good wife. I have always been patient and considerate of him and the burden of responsibility he carries. I am highly sensible of my good fortune in being chosen as his bride.

  But I can no longer remain silent on the subject of his daughters. My daughters, as I suppose I must call them. But their behaviour prevents it. I cannot see them as children of mine at all, for they are so filled with hate and spite that I make it my study to avoid them whenever possible.

  They have cut up my dresses, filled my escritoire with worms and snails from the garden, emptied my scent bottle and refilled it with spirit vinegar. Yet I have shielded them on each occasion, telling myself that they are overset by the sudden change in domestic circumstances and are to be more pitied than censured.