Black Orchid

by Roxanne Carr

  Table of Contents

  Black Orchid

  By the Same Author

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Visit the Black Lace website at www.black-lace-books.com

  LOOK OUT FOR THE BLACK LACE 15TH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL EDITIONS. COLLECT ALL 10 TITLES IN THE SERIES! CASSANDRA'S CONFLICT

  GEMINI HEAT

  FORBIDDEN FRUIT

  JULIET RISING

  ODALISQUE

  THE STALLION

  THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA

  THE NINETY DAYS OF GENEVIEVE

  THE GIFT OF SHAME

  ALSO LOOK OUT FOR THE NEW BLACK LACE BOOK OF WOMEN'S SEXUAL FANTASIES

  Black Orchid

  Maggie felt her stomach knot with tension as Judd slowly, deliberately began to unbuckle his belt. It was of a thick, heavy leather, the strap flat and wide. The buckle was large and weighty looking. He took his time drawing it through the stiff loops of his jeans before cracking it loudly against his thigh.

  Tina was trembling openly now and Maggie shifted in her seat, pressing closer to Anthony. She gasped as Judd coiled the buckle end of the belt around his fist and brought the other end, without warning, across the back of Tina's stocking-clad thighs. Tina whimpered but kept her legs pressed tightly together.

  By the same author:

  A Bouquet Of Black Orchids

  Avenging Angels

  Black Orchid Hotel

  Jewel Of Xanadu

  Western Star

  Black Orchid

  Roxanne Carr

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  ISBN 9780753517673

  Version 1.0

  www.randomhouse.co.uk

  Black Lace books contain sexual fantasies. In real life, always practise safe sex.

  This edition published in 2008 by

  Black Lace

  Thames Wharf Studios

  Rainville Rd

  London W6 9HA

  Originally published 1993

  Copyright © Roxanne Carr 1993

  The right of Roxanne Carr to be identifi ed as the Author of the Work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  www.black-lace-books.com

  ISBN: 9780753517673

  Version 1.0

  Distributed in the USA by Macmillan, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010, USA

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This electronic book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  1

  Maggie felt the familiar irritation as Richard's voice, growing plaintive now, came across the line.

  'This is the third time this week you've had to work late, Mags. I thought we'd go to the cinema, spend some time together . . .'

  'We spent time together last night, Richard,' she interrupted him firmly, 'tonight I have to work.'

  She listened for a few more minutes to his petulant complaints before saying calmly, 'If that's the way you feel then I think it's time we called it a day, don't you? Goodbye, Richard.'

  She put down the telephone, quashing the pang of regret as she remembered the feel of his strong, lean body covering hers as it had last night, his slender white prick moving urgently inside her.

  She caught Janine's eye as her colleague walked into the office and made a face. 'Men!'

  Janine, who had just caught the tail end of the conversation, perched her neat behind on the corner of the desk and grinned.

  'Given up on him?'

  'Had to. Why can't I find a man who can accept that the job I do is important to me? I just can't handle it when they sulk and pout every time I have to work late. I neither have the time, nor the patience, if I'm honest, to tiptoe round some man's ego.'

  'I know what you mean,' Janine shrugged sympathetically.

  'Still – they do have their uses!' Maggie said wistfully.

  'Hmm. What we need, though, is the male equivalent of a bimbo – always ready for sex but otherwise undemanding!'

  Maggie laughed ruefully and opened a file she should have read already.

  'For myself, I'd stick to one night stands if it wasn't for the risks nowadays.'

  'You know, years ago the best brothels used to have all the girls checked regularly by a doctor for disease. That's what we working women need now. Gigolos, guaranteed safe, hired with an American Express Card.'

  'A brothel for women? If only!' Rolling her eyes, Maggie turned her attention to work.

  Later, when most of the office had left for home, Janine stopped by Maggie's desk again.

  'Nearly finished?'

  Looking up, Maggie was distracted.

  'Hmm?'

  'I was wondering – you seemed like you needed a fillip earlier. I'm off to my health club in half an hour. There's a good gym there which Members' Guests can use. Care to join me?'

  Maggie's first thought was to refuse. She barely knew Janine and it had been a long day. Then she thought of the relief from stress that hard physical exercise would bring and thought, what the hell?

  'In half an hour, you say?'

  Janine's smile was positively cat-like as she nodded and left.

  Maggie was surprised by the health club. She had never noticed it before, it was slightly out of town, on Lady's Lane and although it was tucked behind a mess of other buildings, the converted warehouse was too big to be completely hidden. They entered by what seemed to be an elaborate screening procedure.

  'This must be some Health Club!' she quipped as Janine's membership card was electronically scanned.

  'Membership is by invitation only. See what you think and I'll put you up for acceptance if you like.'

  Once through the outer entrance and past the ferociously well groomed receptionist in the lobby, they stepped through heavy oak double doors.

  'Wow!'

  Maggie whistled softly through her teeth as she took in the gleaming reproduction antique furniture in the hallway, the wall to wall, ceiling-high mirrors which reflected the highly polished marbled floor.

  'This way.'

  Maggie's heels clicked loudly on the floor as she followed Janine into the changing rooms. Janine quickly shed her workaday clothes and poured her lean, lithe body into close fitting yellow lycra. Brushing her thick blonde hair into a smooth curtain, she plaited it into a single braid which hung over one shoulder. Her heavy, blunt-cut fringe fell in a line along her eyebrows, forming a frame for
her clear violet eyes.

  Maggie dressed more slowly, looking about her with interest as she did so. As in the hallway, the walls were mirrored and she could see herself and Janine reflected from every angle. Vivaldi was playing softly in the background. The vanity basins which swept along one mirrored wall were dotted with fine porcelain bowls overflowing with fragrant pot-pourri.

  'What do you think?'

  Maggie was aware that Janine was watching her closely for a reaction and was momentarily disconcerted by the intensity of the other girl's gaze.

  'It seems very . . . luxurious,' she replied cautiously.

  'It is. Your every desire catered for.'

  Maggie looked up in surprise as she caught the innuendo in her colleague's voice, but Janine merely smiled innocently back at her and beckoned her out of the room.

  At the end of the corridor, to their right, Maggie could see another set of double oak doors, firmly closed. She could hear loud, throbbing music, muffled by the thickness of the doors, but unmistakable.

  'What's through there?' she asked Janine, but Janine shook her head.

  'Members only. Come this way.'

  She crossed the corridor to the doors opposite, waiting for Maggie to follow her. Maggie cast a thoughtful look along the corridor before catching up with her.

  The gym was vast, the best equipped Maggie had ever seen. There was the latest electronic equipment, plentiful, soft-piled towels hanging in readiness on the brass bar which ran around the walls. And the ever present mirrors.

  'You can't get away from your own reflection!' she said, wondering at the inexplicable frisson of tension which ran through her.

  Janine laughed.

  'You get used to it.'

  'Janine! How lovely to see you!'

  Maggie stared as a golden haired Adonis strode over to them and took Janine into his arms. He was tall, at least six foot three and his body, shown to advantage in the pristine white shorts and singlet, was muscular, exquisitely defined and gleaming with good health.

  'Antony! Darling, I've brought a friend with me,' Janine stood on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear, then they both turned to Maggie. 'Maggie, meet Antony, owner of the Black Orchid Club.'

  'The Black Orchid?'

  'That's right. Delighted to meet you.'

  Antony moved Janine to one side so that she was held by one arm while he encircled Maggie with the other. She felt its strength around her shoulders and caught the faint, erotic odour of fresh male sweat.

  Unaccustomed to such familiarity, her eyes flew upwards – and collided with Antony's frank grey gaze. His eyes narrowed assessingly and she frowned, squirming under the intense scrutiny. His arm tightened round her shoulders, making her still. At last he released her and Maggie sighed as she realised she had been holding her breath.

  'Come,' he said briskly, 'warm up on the exercise bikes then Tristan here will discuss a programme for you. Tris!'

  An athletically built, fresh-faced young man appeared at his side.

  'Look after these lovely ladies, Tristan. An hour's workout I think, followed by a soothing massage and a session in the steam room.'

  With a little push, Antony left them with the smiling trainer.

  'Is he always so domineering?' Maggie puffed as she pedalled, bemused by Antony's high-handed arrangement of her evening. 'I mean, supposing I don't want a massage, or a trip in his blasted steam room?'

  Janine laughed.

  'Relax. You don't have to make any decisions here. You pays your money and somebody else tells you what to do. You'll love the massage, I promise. You're lucky – normally guests are restricted to the gym and showers. And after that, you'll definitely be ready for the steam room! Go with the flow.'

  Maggie said nothing, contenting herself with looking around her. The gym was deceptive, the mirrored walls making it look far larger than it actually was. Some half dozen women were working diligently at their exercises, watched closely by the trainers. Unusually for a ladies' gym, this appeared to be an exclusively male role. Each was dressed in black shorts and singlet. Those who weren't actively supervising a client were using the machines themselves.

  One in particular caught Maggie's eye. He was working on the leg press at the far side of the room and, like all the men present, was young and well developed. As he pushed against the weights the muscles in his thighs bulged, then retracted as he brought them back up to his chest. His back was to Maggie, but she could see his face reflected in the mirror.

  It was an extraordinarily beautiful face, tanned, square jawed, the features symmetrical. Even from this distance, Maggie could see that his eyes were a startling shade of blue. Perspiration glistened on the sculpted shoulders revealed by the cutaway back of his black singlet and his blond hair was slick with sweat as he strained single-mindedly against the weights.

  Maggie found herself pedalling harder as she watched him, enjoying the sensation of the supple leather of the saddle rubbing against her lycra covered pubis. The music piped into the gym washed around her so that she was conscious only of the rhythm of her pedalling and the graceful spectacle across the room of the lengthening and contracting of the young man's muscles.

  Raising her eyes back to the reflected image of his face, she suddenly became aware that he was looking back at her in the mirror. As she caught his eye, he winked.

  Maggie jumped guiltily as a sharp 'ping' signified she had pedalled enough and Tristan materialised at her side as if from nowhere. He was smiling.

  'I see you've noticed our Alexander,' he said approvingly.

  Maggie was embarrassed and changed the subject. From then on she concentrated on pushing herself to her physical limit, revelling in her own strength and suppleness. It felt good to challenge her body, to be made aware of every muscle, every sinew as she moved.

  Slowly she was beginning to relax, to unwind. No one bothered her. Janine was concentrating on her own routine. Tristan was on hand to offer encouragement by way of a gesture or a smile, but he did not try to engage Maggie in conversation again. The music lulled her, the lack of chatter refreshing. She was able to think of nothing but her own body and the demands it was making of her.

  She was almost sorry when the hour was up, though her limbs ached from her efforts and she was drenched in perspiration. Tristan offered her two warm towels to take into the shower.

  Crossing the corridor to the changing room, her eyes were drawn again to the door at the end. Janine noticed her interest and smiled.

  'Another time, maybe! Right now we're expected elsewhere.'

  Maggie allowed herself to be steered into the changing room. The hot flow of water cascaded over her skin, making it tingle and turn pink. When she emerged and shook her long, dark hair out of the complimentary shower cap, Maggie followed Janine's example and wrapped the dry towel, sarong style, around her naked body before making for the massage room.

  The room, which led off from the opposite side of the changing rooms, was small with only enough room for two tables, reflected in the ever present mirrors. Janine discarded her towel and lay face down on one and Maggie followed suit, closing her eyes as she waited for the masseuse to arrive. She opened them as the door clicked softly shut and found herself caught, not by the professional eye of the expected female attendant, but in the smiling blue gaze of Alexander.

  Maggie half rose, then, remembering she was completely naked, sank back down again. Her heart hammered erractically against the padded table as she watched Alexander cross to the vanity unit in the corner of the room and take out a large bottle of massage oil. As he unscrewed the cap the strong, heady smell of jasmine filled the room. He too had showered and she could see the damp hair curling in the tender dip at the back of his neck.

  Janine's masseur was black-haired and muscular, his shoulders sprinkled with a covering of dark hair. Maggie noticed him catch Janine's eye in the mirror and sucked in her breath at the look that passed between them. Yet, no one uttered a word as the two men approached. />
  Maggie gasped involuntarily at the first contact of Alexander's hands with her skin. His fingers were long and clever as he kneaded the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders, coaxing her to let them go. Slowly, under the insistent persuasion of his hands, she began to relax, to unclench her arms and buttocks and give herself up to sensation.

  There was no music in the massage room, only the rhythm of her own breathing which sounded unnaturally loud in her ears, and the occasional slosh of oil against bare skin.

  Closing her eyes, Maggie bit down on a groan of pure pleasure as Alexander's palms ran the length of her arms and back up again in long, firm strokes. After a few moments he turned his attention to her hands, one at a time, stroking each finger and gently manipulating each joint.

  He was endlessly patient, intent only on her satisfaction as he eventually moved further down her body to the long sweep of her slender back and the sharp indentation of her waist. As his palms travelled across her shoulder-blades and moulded the sides of her body, Maggie felt her breasts swell against the table, anticipating his touch. She was almost disappointed when the brush of his fingers missed them repeatedly and he moved instead to her legs.

  Her calves and thighs quivered under his tender ministrations as he methodically massaged away the tension in them. Maggie felt that if she should attempt to stand at that moment, her legs would be too weak to bear her weight, they seemed as if liquefied.

  She gasped as suddenly, unexpectedly, he turned his attention to her naked buttocks. Instinctively clenching the muscles there, she felt herself grow pink with mortification as her resisting cheeks were gathered up, one in each of Alexander's large hands, and squeezed gently until she felt herself reluctantly beginning to let go, the final vestige of resistance rippling away.

  She was breathing in short little gasps, as she felt the familiar, sexual warmth spreading through her body, radiating from her centre. The indirect stimulation of her most intimate places made her feel moist, the delicate folds swelling, anticipating the touch that never came.

  Alexander was scrupulous in his attention, not missing a square inch of her bottom, kneading and squeezing until Maggie felt the dampness between her thighs seeping into the soft towel beneath her hips, mingling with the warm, slippery oil which had been liberally applied over her tingling rear.