He picked it up. ‘What’s this? Discipline by Rosalind Quirt. Great cover – that woman could be you.’ He held it up for her to see.
‘Wash your mouth out, she’s got a much bigger behind than me.’ She closed the drawer. ‘You should enjoy it and, you never know, it might give you some insight. And, incidentally, I happen to know that you’ve met Rosalind . . .’
Dan frowned. ‘I can’t think of anyone with that name.’
‘It’s a nom de plume – a quirt is a type of whip. But I promise you have met her.’
‘It’s not you is it? Or Madame Cyn?’
‘I’m not telling. You’ll have to work it out for yourself.’
Eight
Jo parked her car beside Sam’s at the rear of the showroom. She’d come to discuss her costume for the Torture Garden Summer Ball. It was one of the biggest fetish events of the year and Jo always liked to wear something spectacular.
She got her things together and went in through the back door. Sam was in her office, bent over the drawing board. She looked up and smiled.
‘Hello, darling. Is it that time already? I’m working on the new collection, I must have got carried away.’
‘I’m late actually. It’s nearly lunchtime so I bought us cakes from the Hampstead Tea Rooms.’
‘Great. I’ll put some fresh coffee on.’ She got up. ‘Why don’t you pop along to the shop for a minute? There’s a friend of yours there.’
‘Who?’
‘Go and find out . . .’ Sam left the room.
Jo went out into the corridor, walked towards the front of the building and let herself into the shop. She could see Victor standing by the window with two customers.
‘Hi, Victor. Sam says there’s someone I know in here.’
Before Victor had a chance to respond, the female customer turned to face her.
‘Do you think she means us, Jo?’
‘Jade. Sorry, I didn’t recognise you. And Peter . . . hi. How are you both?’
‘We’re fine thanks.’ Peter was wearing a pair of leather trousers and a tight T-shirt with a series of parallel slashes across the chest. On his feet were heavy thick-soled knee-high boots which buckled up the side. His black hair reached to his waist. Jo glanced over at Jade. She was dressed identically except that she was wearing a skirt. Both of them wore heavy black eyeliner.
Jade picked up a purple rubber miniskirt. ‘Isn’t that just divine? We’ve come to choose some new outfits. We’ve brought Dan Elliot along.’ Jade pointed at the changing room. ‘He’s making a film about our group.’
‘Ahh . . . that must be who Sam was talking about. I’ll go and say hi. Excuse me.’ Jo walked over to the curtained-off changing room. She hesitated. She peeked over the top of the cubicle and saw Dan trying to pull up the top of a clinging rubber all-in-one outfit. The legs finished at mid-thigh level, like cycling shorts, and the top was scooped low in the front, scarcely covering his nipples. The sleeves went all the way down to his wrists and Dan was struggling to get the arms pulled up and over his shoulders.
‘Do you need a hand?’
Dan turned, startled. ‘Oh, it’s you. What on earth are you doing here?’
‘Sam Baillie is my best friend. Didn’t you know?’
‘I didn’t realise.’ He looked down at his outfit. ‘I’m supposed to be finding something to wear to the Torture Garden. For my film.’
‘I see.’ Jo kept her face deliberately neutral.
Dan pulled at his outfit. ‘This is like trying to struggle into a giant condom.’
‘Let me help.’ She pulled aside the curtain and stepped into the cubicle, closing it behind her. ‘It’s not that difficult really, but sometimes it’s useful to have a third hand. It helps if you put talcum powder on first, so there’s less friction.’ She used both hands to pull up the sleeves.
‘But you’d get powder all over the outfit, surely?’ Dan stood still and allowed himself to be dressed.
‘Yes. You have to polish it afterwards. They sell special spray. It’s called Pervoshine – and I promise you I’m not making that up. There. You’re finished. It looks . . .’ She began to laugh.
‘It’s not me, is it?’ He looked at his reflection in the mirror.
‘Not really. I think it’s because you’re so tall and slender. It makes you look a bit like a dildo. And that’s not a good look.’
He sighed in disappointment. ‘I’m overheated and exhausted. I’ve been squeezing myself into these ridiculous outfits for hours.’ He began to peel down the rubber.
‘You need the help of an expert.’
‘That’s why I came here with Jade and Peter.’ He lowered his voice. ‘The trouble is that the two of them look good in anything. When I first met them they were naked except for matching corsets and they both looked fantastic. But they seem to have no idea what will suit me.’ Dan had managed to extricate his arms from the costume and began pushing it down over his torso.
‘I was talking about Victor – he’s Sam’s assistant and a really good designer in his own right. He’ll sort you out. You finish taking that off and I’ll go and get him.’
‘Thanks.’ He frowned. ‘You seem to know an awful lot about this fetish stuff. I’m beginning to wonder if you might be kinky.’
‘Are you? That’s interesting. Let me get Victor.’ She pulled back the curtain a slit and carefully let herself out of the cubicle.
Jade and Peter were looking at a rack of uniforms with Victor.
‘When you’ve got a minute, Victor, could you give Dan a hand? I think he needs a bit of guidance.’
‘Sure. These two can take care of themselves.’ He turned to Jade and Peter. ‘Excuse me, but I’m needed elsewhere.’ He walked across the shop. He gripped the edge of the curtain. ‘Are you decent? Because I’m coming in, ready or not.’ He ripped the curtain aside.
Dan was sitting on the bench beside his discarded street clothes. At first Jo thought he was naked but she realised he was wearing a tiny thong. He noticed that she was looking at him and he shrugged.
‘When in Rome . . .’ He turned to Victor. ‘I’m putting myself totally in your hands.’
‘And it’s not even my birthday.’ He looked Dan up and down. ‘The first thing we need to do is measure you. We need to find you something that makes an asset of your figure. Off you go, Jo. I can handle this.’
‘Thanks. Sam’s probably waiting for me anyway.’
Victor swished the curtain closed.
‘I’ll come back and see you later Dan,’ she called.
After lunch Sam showed Jo the sketches she’d made for her costume. There were half a dozen designs, all broadly following a forties theme, as Jo had requested. They were all fantastic but she’d managed to narrow it down to two.
The first was a rubber version of a military uniform with epaulettes and flapped pockets and a belted jacket. Sam had given the figure in the drawing a swept-up forties hairdo.
The second echoed the New Look; the post-war reaction to the austerity of the war years. Sam had designed a long skirt supported by dozens of petticoats and a fitted jacket with shoulder pads. Underneath there was a waist-nipping corset to give the right silhouette and there was a small hat to finish off the outfit. It was designed to be made out of supple calf leather and the overall effect combined retro elegance with extreme fetish.
‘They’re both gorgeous. I can’t make up my mind. What do you think?’ Jo pored over the drawings.
‘Well, I think you’d look gorgeous in either but, if I were choosing, I’d opt for the more practical option. The uniform’s rubber and you’ll get pretty sweaty and uncomfortable in that after a couple of hours in a hot nightclub. The other one’s leather and you can wear something cotton under the jacket. It’ll be cooler and more comfortable and you’ll still look absolutely fantastic.’
‘Yes, you’re right. OK then. I’ll go for the New Look outfit. Now all we have to decide is the colour. Black’s always good.’
‘True, bu
t I was thinking of something more eye-catching. Half the people there will be in black. How about –’ Sam got up and rummaged through a pile of fabric samples before handing Jo a swatch of bright-red leather ‘– this.’
‘It’s wonderful. So soft and fluid. And the colour . . . I think I have a lipstick in exactly this shade.’ She handled the square of leather.
‘And it will really suit your pale colouring. We should be ready for a first fitting in a month or so.’
‘Thanks, Sam. I’m really looking forward to it. You spoil me.’
Sam waved the compliment away with the back of her hand. ‘You’re welcome, but I’m going to have to chuck you out I’m afraid. I’ve got a buyer coming in half an hour and I need to prepare.’
‘No problem. I’ve got to get going anyway but I promised to go back and see how Dan’s getting on first.’
Sam raised an eyebrow. ‘You seem very interested in Dan . . .’
‘Do I? Well, he’s an interesting man.’
‘So it appears. Are you going to do his film?’
‘I haven’t decided but I’m definitely coming round to the idea.’
Back in the shop Jade and Peter were strutting around in front of the mirrors, modelling matching rubber nun’s habits. Dan was standing beside the counter with Victor looking down at something spread out on the surface.
‘Hi. Did you sort something out?’ She walked over to the counter.
Dan looked up and smiled. ‘Yes, thanks. Victor’s been great. Come and have a look.’
Jo looked down at the drawing. The figure Victor had sketched bore an impressive resemblance to Dan even though the face had no features. He seemed to have captured his body shape and stance perfectly. The figure was wearing a tight pair of shorts, military boots and a garment on the upper body that looked like a combination of a body harness and a gladiator’s breastplate.
‘It’s great. I told you Victor was a genius.’
‘And you were absolutely right. He’s been fantastic and he hasn’t touched me up once.’ He winked at Victor.
‘As if . . . but you should consider yourself lucky I didn’t have to measure your inside leg. Now, if you’ll excuse me I should see how the terrible twins are getting on.’ He walked away.
‘Thanks a lot for helping me out.’ Dan smiled and Jo felt her crotch soften and her nipples peak.
‘You’re welcome. How’s the filming going?’
‘Great, it’s been a real eye-opener. The other day I had a session with a pro domme.’
‘Really? What was it like?’
‘Do you know, I don’t think I have the words to describe it. It was . . . fascinating, exciting, terrifying, surprising.’
Jo scanned Dan’s face as he spoke. His eyes were shining and there were dark spots of colour on each cheek. ‘And did you enjoy it?’
Dan frowned. He seemed to be considering his answer. ‘I think I did. Some of it was incredible. But, if I’m honest, it scared me – I mean I liked it so much that it scared me – so I played up for the cameras as a way of maintaining control and I rather wish I hadn’t.’
Dan stroked his chin with a fingertip as he spoke and she noticed that he had a tiny depression, a hint of a dimple, in the centre of his chin. A tingly flush of excitement crept up her throat and over her face.
‘Interesting. You could try it again maybe, and this time just allow yourself to surrender to it. You never know, you might like it.’ She met his gaze.
‘Actually, I’m going to. Sadie made me promise to have a private session with her. It was a condition of the filming.’
‘No cameras? Just the two of you?’
Dan nodded. His mouth was on the edge of a smile and his eyes stared into hers. ‘Do you think I’m crazy?’
‘No. I think you’re rather brave, actually. And an extremely interesting man.’
Dan feigned shock, holding onto the edge of the counter and fanning his face as if he was about to faint.
Jo laughed. ‘Are you free tomorrow night, Dan?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘How would you like to come to dinner? Nothing fancy, but it’ll be home cooked.’
‘I’d love to. Thanks. What time?’
‘Shall we say 8 p.m.? If you give me a call when you get onto the school grounds I’ll come down and meet you at the front door.’
‘OK, thanks. I’ll look forward to it.’ Dan picked up a novel from the counter.
‘What are you reading?’ Jo took the book.
‘Oh, it’s something Sadie gave me. She thought it might be educational and she also said that I’d met the author.’
Jo laughed. ‘Yes, you have. As a matter of fact, you’re talking to her.’ She handed it back.
‘You’re Rosalind Quirt?’
She nodded. ‘But obviously it’s a side of myself I keep strictly separate from my work, and I’ll be grateful if you’d do the same.’
‘Of course. It goes without saying.’ Dan lowered his voice and leaned in close. ‘You’ve just got to be kinky . . . Everyone I meet seems to know you, I bump into you in here and now I find out you write erotica . . . come on . . . I won’t tell.’
‘Writing about something doesn’t necessarily mean you do it.’ She smiled. ‘Do you think PD James actually kills people or that Anne Rice is a vampire?’
‘But the other things . . . you’ve got to admit they’re big clues.’
Jo shrugged. ‘Maybe, maybe not . . .’
‘You’re not going to tell me, are you?’
She slowly shook her head.
Jo stood in the doorway watching Dan’s car snake its way along the drive. It was a beautiful evening. The sun glistened on the surface of the lake and the rolling parkland looked lush and green.
She was wearing a simple cotton dress covered in tiny printed flowers and a pair of high strappy sandals. She’d dressed for the weather though, as she’d stood in her bedroom in her underwear trying to decide what to put on, she’d realised that she was as keen to impress him as a teenager on a first date.
As Dan’s car neared the school she was surprised to realise that it was an ordinary compact car like a Corsa or a Fiesta. She would have expected something more ostentatious or sporty. But, when she thought about it, Dan had already proved himself to be a man capable of surprising her.
Jo could hear the wheels of Dan’s car crunching over the gravel now. The sun glinted on the windscreen. He spotted her and raised a hand in greeting and she thought she saw him smile. She waved back.
He stopped in front of the entrance and Jo walked down the steps to meet him. Dan climbed out of the car and walked towards her, smiling.
‘Good evening. You’re so lucky to live here. It’s like your own stately home, isn’t it?’
‘Yes it’s great. I love it when the kids are on holiday and I have the place all to myself.’ She stopped in front of Dan and he laid a hand on each of her upper arms and bent his head to kiss her gently on both cheeks. He smelled of shaving soap, fresh and clean. Jo felt a slow wave of shivers creep up her neck and over her scalp.
‘You must feel like a queen, living here alone.’
She laughed. ‘Well, not entirely alone. A few of the staff live here all year round but most of them go on holiday during vacation, so at the moment it’s just me and my second in command, Costas. But come up and see the flat. I have a fantastic view.’ She led him into the house.
Upstairs Jo took him on a quick tour of the flat, showing him the view from the various rooms. Finally she led him into the living room.
‘You were right about the view. The lake looks like something out of a fairytale. The kind of place you might meet a frog who’s really a prince.’ He smiled at her.
‘Well, there are plenty of frogs – I swim in the lake every morning during the summer – but I’ve never been tempted to kiss any of them.’
‘Now that I would like to see . . . you in a skimpy costume slipping through the water like a mermaid.’ His eyes were shining.
Jo slowly shook her head. ‘No costume, I’m afraid.’
Dan’s eyes widened. ‘In that case I think I’ll get up early tomorrow and sneak into the grounds with a pair of binoculars.’
Jo laughed. ‘I hope you’re hungry. The food’s nearly ready, we’re having lemon linguine. I’ll put the pasta on and pour us both a drink while we’re waiting.’ She went into the kitchen. As she dropped the dried pasta into the boiling water she realised that Dan had followed her. She smiled.
‘Is there anything I can do? I’m quite domesticated.’
‘You could open the champagne. You’ll find it in the fridge.’ She stirred the pasta.
Dan found the champagne. He looked at the label and whistled. ‘Are we celebrating something? Or do you drink vintage champagne every day?’
‘Not every day, but I love it and I’m far too greedy to save it for special occasions. And, anyway, this is an occasion . . . you’re here.’
‘I’m flattered.’ Dan smiled. ‘Where are the glasses?’
‘In that cupboard behind you. I’ll get them . . .’ She set the kitchen timer. ‘We’ve got ten minutes, let’s go through to the other room.’
Back in the living room Jo watched as Dan removed the foil and wire from the bottle and expertly eased the cork out. He poured the champagne and handed her a glass. He sat down beside her and picked up his own glass
‘To your good health.’ He clinked her glass with his own.
‘To pleasure.’ She took a sip. The champagne was cold and crisp.
‘That’s an interesting toast.’ Dan put down his glass and leaned back against the sofa cushions.
‘You’ve got no objection to pleasure, surely?’ She set her glass down on the coffee table.
‘Not at all. I’m a hundred and ten per cent in favour of it. It just seems rather . . . I don’t know . . . out of keeping with the image of a respectable headmistress.’ He took off his spectacles and polished the lenses on the bottom of his shirt. It was a simple gesture but Jo knew he was deliberately avoiding her eyes.
‘Do I look like a stereotype to you? A wizened old maiden lady with a bun and a squint and no idea what makes young people tick?’
A Talent for Surrender Page 12
