Black Orchid

by Roxanne Carr

  She allowed Janine to chivvy her to the door and drive her back to the flat, all thought of Electric Blue and his undisputed attractions consigned to the back of her mind.

  The next afternoon, Janine seemed quiet as they drove to pick up the car. Maggie was relieved. She had one hell of a headache and the Jefferson meeting had not been the success it should have been. As they drew into the car-park, Janine said, 'By the way, Anthony asked me last night if I'd organise your badging. I've made an appointment for Saturday morning – will that suit you?'

  Maggie had been fumbling in her bag for her keys and hadn't registered what Janine had said.

  'Sorry?' she asked absently.

  'I'll pick you up on Saturday at ten-thirty. That's a.m. All right?'

  Maggie nodded. 'Sure, whenever. Thanks for the lift.'

  'No problem.'

  Janine fired the engine and drew away with a squeal of tyres. Maggie found her car and unlocked it. Badging? No one had said anything to her about wearing a badge. She glanced over at the club and considered going to see Antony for herself. Maybe grab Alexander for a massage. But no, she had a lot of work to get done if she was to salvage her reputation after her dozy performance this morning. Saturday would come soon enough and she would find out what was what then.

  'I am not going in there! No way!'

  Maggie stopped outside the blank windowed shop and regarded Janine in horror. The girl had been tight-lipped all the way here and now Maggie knew why.

  'Why would I want to go to a tattooist?'

  'Come in off the street,' Janine said patiently, 'and I'll show you.'

  'You have to be joking!'

  'Come on, Maggie – we're attracting attention.'

  Maggie glanced over her shoulder and saw that a small group of youths were regarding them curiously from across the street. She thought how incongruous they must look, drawing up outside a backstreet tattoo artist's shop in Janine's ice-white Ferrari.

  'All right,' she muttered ungraciously and followed Janine inside.

  She had expected the interior to be dark and dingy and was surprised to step into what looked like the reception of a beauty parlour. Janine noticed her surprise, whispering, 'What did you expect? To be knee deep in sailors and a floor full of sawdust?'

  She rang the bell on the bleached wood counter and a slim, attractive woman came out, dressed in a white overall.

  'Hello. You must be Maggie – I'm Phoebe,' she introduced herself.

  Maggie shook the exquisitely manicured hand she was offered and followed her through to the back of the shop. Phoebe took her coat and hung it, with Janine's, on a coatstand in the passageway. With a cool, professional smile, she showed them into a small, scrupulously clean room, well lit, and tastefully appointed. In the middle of the room was a padded couch, exactly like those used by beauticians and it was this to which Maggie was directed.

  'You want the usual?' Phoebe asked.

  'That's right,' Janine answered before Maggie could say she hadn't a clue what was going on.

  Phoebe smiled.

  'Have you ever been tattooed before? No?' she laughed at Maggie's apprehensive expression. 'Don't worry, there's really nothing to it. No worse than a trip to the dentist. Perhaps you'd like your friend to stay?'

  Maggie nodded, biting her lip on the retort that she avoided dentists like the plague. Janine gave her one of her cat-like smiles and she had the uncomfortable feeling that she had read her mind. Phoebe had scrubbed her hands and was pulling on thin surgical gloves.

  'Er . . . will it hurt?' she asked feebly.

  'Only a little bit. You do know though, don't you, that a tattoo is permanent?'

  'Um, yes. Of course.'

  'Good. So long as you've considered that. Not that anyone but your closest friends will see yours!'

  She flashed Janine a mischievous smile and Maggie felt a second's panic. What on earth were they about to do to her?'

  It wasn't long before she found out. Having stripped naked she was asked to lie down on the couch. She gasped as her bottom cheeks were gently coaxed apart and a cold antiseptic swab was applied to the tender skin. Surely they weren't going to tattoo her there?

  She was about to protest, but Janine had dropped down on her haunches at the end of the couch so that they were at eye level.

  'It won't take long,' she said, soothingly. 'Once you've been badged you'll be able to be identified as a member of the club by anyone who knows about us. Ssh! Hold onto me,' she crooned as Maggie cried out.

  The first touch of a needle to her skin was shockingly painful and Maggie was grateful to grasp hold of Janine's slender hands. The other girl's eyes were unusually bright as she monitored Maggie's every response.

  Maggie could feel Phoebe's rubber covered fingers pressing lightly against her anus as she held her open with one hand whilst working with the other. The rubber felt alien against her skin, yet not clammy and unpleasant as she had expected. She could feel the warmth of Phoebe's fingers through it, the tenderness of her touch an almost erotic counterpoint to the merciless stainless steel instruments she was wielding with apparent skill.

  'The skin breaks,' Janine intoned softly, 'a little blood is spilled and mingles with the ink. Would you like to see, Maggie? Would you like to know what the end result will be?'

  Maggie merely stared at her, clenching her teeth against the stinging sensation between her buttocks. She couldn't trust herself to speak in case a shaming sob should escape her lips as Janine stood in front of her and, hitching up her dress, slowly rolled down her pantyhose. She was wearing white lace knickers which accentuated rather than hid her downy pubic mound.

  Phoebe seemed oblivious to the striptease being performed in her consulting room, labouring over her task as Maggie's eyes widened in disbelief. Janine was slowly pulling down her knickers, letting them drop to her ankles before stepping out of them. She smiled at Maggie, a knowing, intimate smile.

  Maggie could not take her eyes off Janine as she slowly turned around and bent over from the waist, presenting her with an unobstructed view of the perfectly symmetrical globes of her bottom. The discomfort in the cleft of her buttocks caused by Phoebe's diligently working fingers, receded as she watched the vision in front of her. In a gesture which would have been vulgar if it weren't so powerfully erotic, Janine arched her back, pushing her hips back, almost into Maggie's face. Then she reached behind and opened herself up.

  Maggie drew in her breath. On the left-hand side of Janine's inner cheek, there was tattooed the likeness of a perfectly formed black orchid. It was about an inch long by half an inch wide and was defined by a red border. Yellow ink had been used to form its delicately freckled throat and fragile double stamen.

  Her own bottom cleft was one mass of stinging soreness now, but Maggie barely cared as she studied the tattoo displayed before her. She was so close to Janine's spread cheeks, she could smell the faint, sweet odour of feminine perspiration, could see the puckered pink gateway to her forbidden orifice.

  With Janine's head turned away from her, Maggie felt free to examine her more slowly than she had ever dared to look at any other woman's secret folds. Between her demurely closed thighs, she could see her plump, pink sex peeking coyly through the dark blonde curls. She was wet, a sheen of female juices shimmering invitingly on the tender skin.

  Janine pressed slightly closer and, without thinking, Maggie acted on impulse, straining her lips forward to place a kiss against the black orchid tattooed on the other girl's inner cheek. Janine shuddered and Maggie quickly drew away, appalled at herself.

  'There – all done.' Phoebe's brisk voice, so cool, so clinical, saved her.

  Maggie smiled slightly shakily at her as she helped her off the couch. She kept her eyes averted from Janine as she dressed hurriedly, wincing as the soft cotton of her briefs touched the plaster covered site of her new tattoo.

  'I'll give you a supply of plasters. Salt baths are the best thing while it scabs over. Plenty of air – keep your br
iefs off as often as possible.'

  Maggie winced as she left. It felt as though she had an inflated balloon in her cleft and the sticking plaster pulled the undamaged skin uncomfortably with every movement. She was grateful to Janine when she took care of the bill, holding her by the arm as they left as she suddenly felt quite faint. She could not sit down properly in the car and was forced to lean against Janine's slim shoulder as the other girl drove her home.

  'Now I know why you insisted on driving me!' she broke the silence between them with a slightly nervous laugh.

  Janine smiled, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. When they arrived at Maggie's flat, she helped her up the steps and went to make coffee without being asked. Maggie half sat, half lay across her blue and lemon chintz sofa, listening to the sound of Janine moving about in the small, modern kitchen.

  She loved her flat, treating it as her own, personal little haven and she rarely invited anyone back there. Those few people who did get through the door often commented on the unexpectedly feminine style in which it was decorated. Cool lemons and blues covered the sofa chairs, matching the soft yellow carpet and china blue curtains. There was a hint of pink in the striped wallpaper which she had picked out in the cushions and lamps which lifted and warmed the colour scheme.

  As Janine walked in with coffee steaming in two bone china mugs, Maggie felt the atmosphere in the usually sunny room thicken with tension.

  'About earlier,' she blurted suddenly after they had both sipped their coffee in uncomfortable silence for several minutes, 'I don't want you to think that I . . . well, that I could ever . . .'

  'Fancy me?' Janine finished for her coolly.

  Maggie felt her cheeks suffuse with heat and she realised she was blushing furiously. There was something about Janine that made her feel as awkward as a gauche schoolgirl. Since that fateful day when she had kissed her in the office, Maggie always had the uncomfortable feeling that Janine was party to some crucial information of some kind to which she herself had no access. She always seemed to be wearing an expression like a cat who has been at the cream whenever Maggie drew near her.

  Worst of all, from her appearance in her dreams to small, shocking incidents such as the one she had instigated today, Maggie had found herself responding in a way which had, until now, been completely alien to her.

  'You worry too much, Maggie.'

  'But I'm not . . . that way inclined,' she finished, despising herself for her own coyness.

  'Really?' Janine arched a disbelieving eyebrow.

  'Yes! I mean, no! You know what I mean, Janine, you're just being deliberately obtuse.'

  Janine put down her empty mug on a coaster on the coffee table between them. To Maggie's confusion, she leaned across and dropped a dry, sisterly kiss on her forehead.

  'The lady doth protest too much,' she smiled mischievously before collecting up her bag and making for the door. She turned as she reached it. 'You should lighten up a little, Maggie, tune in to your innermost desires. It'll be all right, you'll see. No, don't get up. I can see myself out.'

  She disappeared though the door with a languid wave, leaving Maggie staring after her in confusion.

  It was two weeks before Maggie felt up to returning to the club. Janine had been working away from the office and she found it a relief not to have her around for a while. It had taken all her willpower not to wince every time she sat down and all her presence of mind to keep her attention on her work and off the growing ache between her legs.

  After the Jefferson Company fiasco, Maggie had received a rocket, followed by a written warning from her immediate boss. Since then she had tried to keep her head down, working late and coming in early to make up for lost time. After two weeks of this punishing regime, she felt she had earned an evening off so she left work and headed straight for Lady's Lane.

  The first person she saw as she went into the gym was Alexander. He was crouched by the rowing machine, adjusting something in its mechanism. Maggie felt her legs turn to water as he glanced up and his startingly blue eyes met hers across the room. Slowly, he rose to his feet and smiled at her, beckoning her over.

  'Ready for a workout, Maggie?' he asked her, his voice like warm honey dripping over her finely tuned nerves.

  She sank onto the rowing machine he had just been adjusting, and tried not to shiver in response to the touch of his warm hand which rested lightly on her shoulder. There were two other women in the room, Tina she recognised from the Exhibition Room on her second visit and an overweight blonde who was making heavy work of the bench press. Tina nodded politely to her before going back to her sit ups.

  To Maggie's surprise, Alexander showed no inclination to leave her side as she began to exercise. He stopped her to reposition her feet and the touch of his fingers against her ankles sent little sparks of electricity rushing up her calves.

  God, but he was beautiful! No matter how many times she saw him, Maggie never failed to be moved by the satisfying symmetry of his features, the strength of his perfectly muscled body which glowed bronze with a healthy, animal sheen.

  She tried to concentrate on the exercise, but as her pulse rate quickened, so did the tempo of her desire for him. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms and to feel the powerful thud of his heartbeat against hers.

  He indicated with a nod that she should finish rowing and move onto the next machine. As she stood, Maggie stumbled against him. Alexander's strong arms came around her and for a second she allowed herself to lean against him, closing her eyes to savour the sensation. She loved the way he smelled, a unique combination of musk and citrus, As he steadied her, she could feel the raw strength of him which was confined by the velvet smooth texture of his skin.

  Realising that she was prolonging the moment just a little too obviously, Maggie blushed and moved on. As she took her place on the leg spreader, she could not resist a glance up at him through her lashes. She sucked in her breath as she saw he was watching her, his bright blue eyes hooded, his firm, sensual lips twisted into a half smile.

  There was something about that smile that sent a jolt of delicious anticipation through her. He turned away then to attend to the blonde who had reached the end of the circuit and Maggie tried to concentrate on the exercise. It wasn't easy. Every time she looked up, Alexander was in her line of vision.

  From every angle he looked magnificent, every line and plane of his well sculpted body visible through the uniform of tight black shorts and T-shirt which was cut away at the shoulders. His golden blonde hair was shaved at the nape of his neck and around his ears, worn longer on the top where it was thick and strong, inviting her to run her fingers through it.

  The door of the gym opened and Tristan stepped through. He greeted Alexander cheerfully and made a point of speaking to each of the club members in turn.

  'I'll be off then,' Alexander said.

  Maggie's dismay must have been written all over her face for Alexander smiled slightly as he glanced over at her. She watched him covertly as he picked up a towel and strode out of the gym, through a door marked 'Private'.

  She waited a few moments until Tristan's back was turned and the other women were engrossed in their own routines before slipping quietly through the door after Alexander.

  7

  Maggie found herself in a narrow corridor, white walled with a terracotta tiled floor. At the end was a swing door with a round window and a notice proclaiming Strictly Private – Staff Only Beyond This Point. She hesitated for a moment, then, remembering Alexander's smile and the promise it held, she pushed the door open.

  She was in a changing room, obviously used by the trainers if the names on the lockers were anything to go by. First names only, Judd, Tristan, Dean, Bruno. The one marked Alexander stood open. The atmosphere in the windowless room was close in spite of the air extractor fans which buzzed discreetly around her. She could hear running water and walked toward its source.

  Rounding the corner, she could see Alexander's
naked body through the glass shower screen in the corner. He had his back to her, and the steam swirling around in the cubicle obscured her view of him. Quickly stripping off her clothes, Maggie stepped into the shower with him.

  His movements stilled as he felt her presence, but he showed no surprise as he turned to face her. Maggie smiled tentatively and stepped forward, the tips of her breasts almost touching his wet chest in the close confines of the shower.

  His chest was completely hairless, so smooth she wondered if he shaved it. Almost shyly, she ran her hands over it and down his arms. The light hairs there tickled her fingertips. Alexander did not respond to her touch, watching impassively as she reached for the shower gel and squirted a generous portion onto her hands.

  He stood, statue still as she began to lather his chest and shoulders, moulding the finely drawn muscles of his arms with her hands until he was entirely covered in thick, white suds from the waist up. Only then did she divert her attention downwards to his insultingly unaroused penis.

  To her surprise, it barely responded to her careful soaping. Rinsing it off, she dropped to her knees and began to run it gently back and forth between her palms. He was circumcised, the exposed glans soft and vulnerable at the end of an unexpectedly long and slender stem. Lifting it in her hand, Maggie brought her lips to the tip.

  She gasped as Alexander suddenly grabbed her by the elbows and hauled her back to her feet. He looked grim, his thick, blond brows drawn together in a frown that completely transformed his normally friendly face. Her actions had obviously displeased him in some way, but he didn't say a word as he gently, but insistently turned her round.

  Suddenly unsure of herself, Maggie held her shoulders tense as he began to soap them. She had forgotten how clever his fingers were and she soon felt a delicious languor invade her limbs. Without realising she was moving, she leaned back against him.

  There was no mistaking that he was erect now, the slim, hard rod pressed into the small of her back, pointing up her spine. Perhaps he preferred not to be touched, maybe he got his kicks from arousing others, Maggie thought dreamily as his soapy hands described big, slow circles on her full breasts.