'What would you like?' Camellia went on. Wicked men always made her feel more wanton. 'For us to seduce a couple of Arabs on the floor? To have sex with a donkey?'
'Seamus, the man with the donkey, let me down tonight,' Aiden retorted. 'But will ye take a look at the cucumber in the fridge and try it for size?'
Both girls began to laugh, and as the first glass of the rum-laced punch went down, they relaxed enough to forget leaving.
'Take off your coats,' Aiden said, his hands lingering on Camellia's fur. He leaned close to her ear to whisper, 'I'll have you dressed in that alone later tonight. But for now let me put it where no one else can steal it.'
The girls went back into the lounge with their drinks to look at the other guests. It was all so bizarre. There weren't nearly enough women to go round, but the ones present were unforgettable. A statuesque brunette in a lace minidress that revealed more than it covered moved around kissing men indiscriminately. Another pint-sized redhead with flowered loons and a matching brief top wriggled her abdomen as she danced alone. There were some older hard-eyed women who she suspected were prostitutes, brought down by Aiden from Soho for a busman's holiday.
'Look what's going on in there,' Bee squeaked, pointing towards the open bedroom door.
Camellia's eyes nearly jumped out of her head and she looked away in embarrassment. Two couples were making love on a huge bed. There was no doubt in her mind that they were getting an even bigger thrill from it by knowing they had an audience.
'You have to hand it to Aiden,' Bee gasped. "This party is like your wildest dreams. I bet those Arabs can't believe what they're seeing.'
Everyone was smoking dope. A hookah stood on a low table surrounded by several of the sloe-eyed Arabs. The two homosexuals paused in their dancing to snort coke, using rolled twenty-pound notes.
'Would you like some?' Aiden appeared at Camellia's elbow as Bee went off to investigate what was happening in the kitchen.
'Why not,' she smiled up at him. 'Everyone else seems to be doing it.'
She had tried it before, but not in the quantity Aiden used. He scooped out the white powder with a tiny silver spoon and laid it on a small mirror.
'Where's the twenty-pound note?' she asked.
'No need to be ostentatious,' he laughed. 'I never was one for overdoing things.'
The coke froze her nose and made her eyes water. Aiden took out a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped them dry.
'Let's dance?' he suggested. 'I've done my work for the night and been richly rewarded. Now I want a girl in me arms.'
The music was less frantic now, moving on from the Rolling Stones, Cream and Hendrix, to the Beatles and Bob Dylan. Bee was talking to Obas, sitting on one of the settees.
Dancing with Aiden's arms around her, Camellia was now more amused than alarmed by the decadent atmosphere. Some of the tarts had gone into the bedroom with the Arabs. She was glad she had Aiden for protection.
'Where's John?' Camellia asked a little later. She had spotted one of the hard-looking women looking balefully at Bee. She had a feeling it might be safer to get Bee away from Obas.
'Doing his knight on a white charger bit,' he said nonchalantly. 'Taking a bird home that was having a bad trip. He'll be there half the night looking after her, tomorrow she won't even want to know him.'
'Don't tell me you laced something with acid?'
He didn't have to answer: his expression said it all.
'That's really stupid,' she said angrily. She had never quite got over the thought of those kids who ended up in hospital because of Dougie. 'Suppose someone took it that couldn't handle it. What was it in anyway?'
Turkish Delight,' he grinned, entirely untroubled by her horror. 'If she hadn't been such a pig she'd have been okay.'
'She might've overdosed!'
'It was too weak for that.' Aiden's eyes darkened. 'Look here, Camellia, every single person here tonight knows the score. They aren't doing anything they wouldn't do normally. The Arabs wanted to experience swinging London. I've got them stoned and supplied the cast. No one's being ripped off, everyone's enjoying themselves. I thought you and Bee were the kind of girls who'd enjoy watching it.'
Anger faded. Aiden was irresponsible and wicked, yet underneath it all Camellia had a feeling his intentions were almost honourable.
'You ought to be locked up,' she half-smiled.
'So I have been, frequently.' He kissed her nose tenderly. 'But I didn't invite you to be part of the shebang. I had other plans.'
'Such as?' She tilted her face up to his.
'A bit of lovin',' he said, running one finger down her cheek.
When Aiden disappeared later, Camellia felt absurdly sad. She'd really thought he intended to be with her tonight. She fortified herself with another large glass of punch and curled up in an armchair by the window.
Bee was sitting on a couch surrounded by Arabs, talking and flirting with them all. Obas kept touching her hair, her face, as if already deeply smitten by her.
The coke had made Camellia feel all-powerful, yet at the same time she had the sensation of being in a large glass bubble, detached, watching from a great distance.
To her left she could see right into the bedroom. A big, dark-haired girl was lying naked on the bed, her face concealed by a man's arse. She could see his testicles bobbing and the thrust of his buttocks. Another man was licking at the girl's fanny – a long red tongue darting in and out from a dark bushy beard – and he was masturbating himself as he licked. Above the sound of Joe Cocker singing 'Delta Lady', Camellia could hear the girl on the bed moaning.
She was neither shocked nor stimulated. She had the feeling that if she just blinked, the whole set would vanish.
A burst of laughter made her look round. To her surprise Bee was now devouring Obas. He lay back on the settee, Bee pressing him further back into the cushions, her mouth glued to his.
The ribald laughter came from one of Obas's henchman, and the object of his mirth was clearly Bee's bottom. Her black dress had ridden up, revealing minuscule black panties and tights. A big tear in the back seam showed a bubble of white flesh peeping through.
Camellia was suddenly jolted back into reality. She could sense a charge in the atmosphere. All the Arabs were looking intently at Bee; a couple of the older women were smirking malevolently. Even the two homosexuals looked round, their boyish faces hardening as they too sensed something.
Camellia thought for one moment. Bee would protest if she told her it was time they went. If she could just get her away from those men for a short while, maybe she could warn her that it was getting dangerous.
At least half the people had already gone. Perhaps twenty in all were left, at least ten of them in the bedroom. As Camellia got up, the front door opened and in came Aiden with John.
They paused, John frowning as he spotted Bee with Obas.
Camellia knew the men had come back for them, yet their arrogance irritated her slightly. She wanted Aiden, but she didn't intend to be walked over.
If the first opening chords of Wilson Pickett's 'Wait till the Midnight Hour' hadn't suddenly burst out, she might have allowed Aiden and John to rescue them. But she and Bee had invented a dance to the record one night when they were alone at home, and now the strong beat, the need to get Bee away from those men, and the desire to give everyone something to think about, made it irresistible.
She swayed to the beat as she made her way across the room, gave Aiden a flashing smile and pinched Bee's plump arm. "They're playing our tune,' she said.
Whether Bee saw John in the doorway, or realised she was getting in deep water with Obas and the other men, Camellia couldn't tell, but she leapt to her feet, cottoning on immediately to what Camellia had in mind.
Pulling her dress down she patted Obas's headdress and skipped away, leaving him looking startled.
'The whole bit?' Bee whispered, already gyrating her hips, running her fingers through her hair.
'Just like
the rehearsal,' Camellia smiled wickedly.
They had devised and perfected this striptease dance at home with a great deal of giggling. But this time they gazed sombrely into each other's eyes as if they were in love, and danced so close together their breasts nearly touched, singing along with the record.
Like many plump girls Bee was a graceful dancer, light on her feet with the seductive charm of a belly-dancer, and Camellia had always put her ability to dance down to inherited talent from her mother. Slowly the men moved back; even the Arabs who'd gone into the bedroom came to the door to watch.
'Boots!' Camellia whispered. They had only done this in shoes and it was difficult to be seductive unzipping boots. But they managed it by perching on the arm of a couch each, lifting one leg at a time, then tossing the boots aside, towards the door that led to the bathroom.
Everyone was silent now as the pair moved together like one person, hands reaching out for each other, only to draw back. They lifted their dresses, enough to hook their fingers into their tights and slowly slide them down to their knees. It was a sticky moment as they balanced on one leg to remove the feet, but they managed to keep moving to the beat, and the tights landed by the boots.
A slow clapping began and now as they stood in bare feet they grew wilder, shaking their breasts, running fingers through their hair and revolving their hips. Camellia turned her back on Bee and let her unzip her dress, then turned back to let Bee do the same.
Now with dresses leaving their backs bare, the real show began, stroking each other, lowering one shoulder and kissing the flesh, then the other.
Camellia winked at Bee as they let the dresses fall to their waists, swaying their hips and gradually Working the material down to drop on the floor, and kick them aside to their boots. They both wore black push-up bras and similar bikini briefs. Bee's blonde and Camellia's dark hair fused together as they embraced, aware every man in the room was watching.
The record was two thirds over, and they turned to each other, hips undulating, breast against breast as they reached up to unhook their bras, then turned back to back, holding their bras momentarily against them, strutting together towards the group of Arabs on the settee.
The clapping was getting stronger, the beat faster as they dropped their hands to expose their breasts. Obas's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw Bee's. A wild cheer broke out as each girl took her bra and waved it round her head.
Camellia could feel Aiden's eyes on her body and she performed just for him. Taking the bra between her legs she drew it back and forth, writhing on it, sighing with pleasure. Then dancing back to Bee they moved together, caressing one another's breasts, biting their lips so they wouldn't laugh.
The record was coming to an end. There was tension in the room as every man waited for them to remove their panties too, but they danced back towards the door which led to the bathroom and their clothes, turned and bent down to give one last view of their bottoms as the record ended.
'Let's go,' Camellia whispered as they faked a passionate kiss. 'They'll have us in the bedroom before long, shoving their dicks down our throats.'
Picking up their clothes they bolted through the door for the bathroom, as cheering, stamping feet and yelling broke out behind them.
As Camellia locked the door, Bee collapsed against the bath in laughter. 'We ought to ask if we could do it at the club,' she snorted, tears rolling down her face.
'We can't go back in there.' Camellia wanted to laugh herself but she was more than a little nervous now. 'Those guys you were with are too heavy. I hope Aiden and John will be standing by to rescue us. Hurry up and get your things on.'
As they zipped up their dresses a loud banging startled them.
'What's that?' Bee's eyes shot open.
Camellia listened carefully for just one second. She'd heard that kind of banging before and her stomach churned. They weren't in the flat yet, just at the outer door, but any minute they'd be in, rounding everyone up.
'It's the fucking fuzz,' she said, throwing Bee's boots to her. 'Get those on!'
'Oh shit,' Bee's face drained of colour. 'You mean a raid?'
Camellia was already moving to the window. Climbing up onto the washbasin she yanked the big sash window up, peering out into the darkness.
'There's a roof just below,' she whispered. 'It's about six feet down. Do you think you can make it?'
Bee's eyes were wide with fright, her mouth quivering. 'I don't know,' she whispered.
'You've got to. I'll go first,' Camellia was already up on the sill, pushing aside shaving tackle. 'I can catch you if you fall. Pull your skirt up higher!'
With one hand on a drainpipe the other on the windowsill Camellia slithered down, digging her boots into the brickwork, then dropped the last couple of feet, toppling as her feet hit uneven slates.
'Now you,' she called back, grabbing the drainpipe for support.
'Come out of there!' A voice roared the other side of the bathroom door. 'This is the police!'
'I'm just having a crap,' Bee called back sweetly, already astride the sill, her dress pulled up to her waist, plump thighs like sausages in the dim light.
'Hold onto the drainpipe like I did,' Camellia whispered. 'That's right, now lower yourself to me.'
Camellia stopped her fall, clinging onto her.
'Now where?'
The light from the open window threw a brilliant shaft out onto the small roof, but left the gardens below in darkness. 'Over here.' Camellia took Bee's hand and they inched their way to one side to look down. A small patio lay beneath them. Adjoining the extension they stood on was an ornamental half-wall. Camellia scrambled down it, one ear cocked for the police coming through the bathroom door. She could hear muffled shouting immediately above them, and prayed silently that no one would catch them.
'Come on,' she whispered, as Bee climbed down. 'This way.'
Keeping in the shade of bushes, Camellia felt her way to the end of the garden. She hoped for a back gate onto an alley, but only the wall met her hands. It was around eight foot high, with no way out.
'Shit,' she hissed. 'We're bloody well trapped now.'
It was freezing, and all at once she remembered she'd left her coat in the lounge, with keys and money in the pockets.
Bee was shaking with fear, her teeth chattering. It was no time to tell her they would have to break into their flat.
'Another fine mess you got me into,' Camellia said, trying to make her laugh. 'Look I'll get up on the wall and take a recce.'
With the aid of an old lawn roller and a tree trunk, Camellia managed to climb up on top. There were perhaps ten gardens between them and the lights of Dovehouse Street to her left. As far as she could see the wall reached all the way along.
Sitting down on the wall she reached out for Bee's hand. 'Feel with your hands,' she whispered. 'There's a brick sticking out you can get onto.'
Bee was hopeless at climbing, panting like an old woman with no co-ordination between hands and feet. Camellia practically hauled her up.
'I'm no good at this kind of thing,' Bee whimpered as at last she stood beside Camellia on the wall.
'It's okay.' Camellia took her hand to steady her. 'Turn sideways and just edge along. Don't try to rush it.'
It could only have taken minutes, but it felt like hours, creeping along with only the odd tree for support. Gusts of wind kept whipping their legs, threatening to blow them into the gardens below.
They were almost at the end of the row, streetlights beckoning them with friendly warmth, when they heard police crash through the bathroom door.
'Some've got out here,' a brusque voice shouted back and Camellia saw burly shoulders silhouetted against the bathroom light. There was no time now for hesitation. She peered down into the street, lay on her stomach and lowered herself, dropping the last three or four feet. 'Quick,' she hissed. "They'll be round here any moment.'
Once on the pavement, they fled, running through the deserted streets bli
ndly. Only when they burst out of a side street into Fulham Road could they stop to draw breath.
'Look at your tights,' Bee panted.
Camellia looked down. She had torn both knees and blood was oozing out the hole in one. 'You don't look so hot yourself.' She stepped into a shop doorway, pulling up her skirt and wrenching the tights off to the point where they met her boots. 'The next problem is how we get in. My keys were in my coat pocket – and I suppose yours were in your bag?'
'Break a window?' Bee suggested.
They had run too hard to feel the cold now and they took the last lap of the way at a jog.
'Oh God, my coat!' Camellia stopped suddenly as they turned into Oakley Street.
'You can get another,' Bee said sympathetically. 'At least we're safe.'
'It's not the coat,' Camellia held her side, panting furiously. 'I've just remembered our address is in my wallet in the pocket. The police are bound to find it and come here.'
Bee's face blanched.
Camellia felt sick now. She had visions of them finding her name on record at Bow Street.
'Maybe we could say your coat and wallet were stolen a couple of days ago?' Bee said in desperation.
'But what about your bag?' Camellia's voice shook with fear. 'What are we going to say about that?'
Bee's face crumpled, tears welling up and dropping onto her cheeks. 'There's even a letter I wrote to my Mum!' she said. 'I changed my mind about posting it.'
'We'll just have to front it out.' Camellia put her arm round Bee and hugged her. 'Look we'll say we went earlier, but it was a bit kinky and we ran out leaving our stuff.'
'There's a bit of dope in my bag, too,' Bee whispered.
'Fucking hell,' Camellia exploded, grabbing her friend and frog marching her across the road. 'How many times have I told you not to take anything out with you. We'll have to get in now and check the whole flat. Put our nighties on and make as if we've been there for hours.'
They were shivering at their front door, trying to decide which pane of glass was the closest to the lock when they heard a car screech to a halt just above them in the road.
'Oh shit.' Camellia felt her insides turn to jelly. 'They're here already!'
Camellia Page 17
