A Taste of Passion

by Ashley Lister

  Have you reconsidered our job offer here at Sweet Temptation?

  Three days ago they’d been the best of friends, living together and sharing a meal at Boui-Boui to celebrate their graduation. Now they were acting with the animosity of embittered enemies. Donny was taunting her unhappiness and Charlotte was daring to offer Trudy the chance to be an employee in a company where she’d once been expecting to be a partner. That was a detail that stung most severely: she was being considered as a potential employee.

  Trudy slammed the phone down on the kitchen counter. It landed so hard she momentarily wondered if she had caused the casing or the screen to crack. If that had happened, she didn’t care.

  She was busy fighting back the threat of tears. Her friends and the business hopes she had dreamed of for three years had been taken from her.

  All that she had left was Bill.

  She dearly hoped that he thought as much of her as she thought of him.

  If he didn’t, then she knew she had nothing. The thought made her chest tighten, as though the muscles there had been pulled by a fist.

  Bill and Aliceon stepped into the kitchen. Bill was wearing a filmy satin robe in a burgundy and gold paisley. It hugged the contours of his body in a way that was almost too revealing.

  He had one hand on Aliceon’s elbow.

  Aliceon had a hand on Bill’s back.

  Trudy wondered if Aliceon had stayed in the room whilst Bill got out of bed to don the robe. She blushed hotly and tried to push the thought from her mind. Even if Bill had been naked in front of Aliceon it wouldn’t matter. The couple had been married before. Twice. Undoubtedly Aliceon had seen Bill naked on many occasions.

  ‘There’s chuff all I can do about it,’ Bill told Aliceon. He sounded exasperated. ‘All that’s left is for me to make the best of a bad situation.’

  Trudy blinked and realised the couple must have been talking as they walked down the stairs. She had been so immersed in her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard either voice.

  ‘I don’t really wish I could take it back,’ Bill continued. ‘But I’ll keep paying lip service to that concept whenever there’s a reporter around. And, in practical terms, I need to work with what I’ve got.’

  ‘I’ll get onto your agent,’ Aliceon said. ‘Is it still Harvey?’

  He nodded. ‘Get him to consult with Goldman and Shaw. Find out what we can legally say in an interview. Then have Harvey negotiate an exclusive with one of the red tops.’

  As Trudy watched, Aliceon and Bill walked side by side through the kitchen.

  Aliceon went immediately to the espresso machine.

  Bill went to the breadbin and retrieved a loaf.

  Acting as though she wasn’t there, they worked in unison preparing mutual aspects of two breakfasts. They moved around each other like practised partners in a performance dance.

  Their choreography was disturbingly well-practised.

  Aliceon retrieved plates and pots from cupboards as though her knowledge of their contents was second nature. Bill shifted and moved around the woman as though he knew where she intended to step before she did.

  Trudy bit her lower lip. She resisted the urge to succumb to jealousy. She told herself she had no reason to be envious of the relationship between Bill and Aliceon.

  ‘What was the name of that nice reporter at the Mail?’ he asked.

  Aliceon frowned. ‘Which nice reporter at the Mail?’

  ‘The redhead? She was fairly easy to talk to.’

  ‘The Mail crucified you. Weren’t they the ones who started those rumours about you having illegal immigrants in the kitchen?’

  ‘Hell, no!’ Bill blurted. ‘That was some slimy freelance arsehole who thought he was George Orwell.’ He snapped his fingers as he tried to recall some evasive detail that would help them both remember. He stared directly at Trudy, his eyes unseeing, before he finally shook his head in frustrated defeat and gave up the attempt to remember.

  As Trudy watched them, Aliceon brought two espressos neatly to completion whilst Bill began to work on fresh eggs, two slices of toast and a couple of rashers of bacon. Their conversation continued, discussing likely media outlets so Bill could tell his side of the story.

  They repeatedly came back to a theme of damage control.

  Realising she wasn’t needed in the room, realising that she was superfluous to Aliceon and Bill’s needs, Trudy left her Americano untouched and slipped from her corner of the kitchen. Quietly, she made her way back upstairs.

  Neither of them noticed her leaving the room.

  She went upstairs and showered and stayed under the spray longer than was necessary. The water helped to hide the tears. When she had finished she could hear the couple still talking animatedly in the kitchen beneath her. Their passionate outbursts were occasionally interspersed with insults or laughter.

  Trudy went back to the bedroom. She had arrived with a small suitcase and went through it to find the clothes she needed for the day. She pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a white top that hugged her figure. Combined with a pair of inappropriate heels the look gave an impression of grocery-shopping chic.

  It was an adequate look, she thought.

  She blinked her eyes and shook her head and refused to give into the rush of further unhappiness that wanted to pour through her. It crossed Trudy’s mind that she now needed to find her own place. Whilst she had enjoyed waking in Bill’s arms, it seemed likely that Bill’s relationship with his ex-wife was not truly a thing of the past. She wasn’t sure if Bill knew as much. But she didn’t want her heart to be an integral part of his life when he eventually made that discovery.

  The thought was sharp.

  It made her snatch back a reluctant sob of despair.

  She didn’t like the thought of Bill and Aliceon together but she was also unhappy with the idea of getting in the way of Bill’s happiness if he needed to make the maître d’ his wife again. Shaking her head, wiping at her face, she found her coat and started down the stairs.

  ‘Are you off?’ Aliceon asked.

  The woman was in the hall. It was almost as though she had been waiting.

  ‘Yeah,’ Trudy said. ‘I’m going to …’ Her voice trailed off. She had no idea what she was going to do. She didn’t want Aliceon to notice her lack of focus and she shook her head.

  ‘Hold it together,’ Aliceon sighed. ‘Bill’s got enough on his plate at the moment without having to worry about you. Don’t you realise how much this could cost him?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There’s talk of his TV show dropping him because of this fight.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Trudy muttered.

  ‘His agent is trying to put a positive spin on this,’ Aliceon said. ‘But he’s been talking with Goldman and Shaw and they reckon, if things go wrong, the Smurf could sue Bill. He could lose Boui-Boui.’

  Trudy digested the words in silence. Her own upset from watching Bill interact with his ex-wife now seemed pathetic and self-indulgent. She had felt low before. Now she felt low and ashamed.

  ‘What can I do to help?’

  ‘You can make yourself scarce for today.’

  Trudy started towards the door and then stopped. ‘I heard reporters out there. Did you say there were a lot of them?’

  ‘They’re round at the front of Boui-Boui,’ Aliceon explained. ‘Go round the back of the estate and make your way out through the gates by my cottage.’

  ‘Your cottage?’

  Trudy remembered the small building at the edge of the estate. There had been a girly-pink supermini parked outside and a thin stream of smoke drawling from the chimney. Bill’s ex-wife lived there? Trudy wanted to sob with an increased sense of frustration. Not wanting Aliceon to see her tears, she simply said, ‘Should I come to work tonight?’

  ‘I’ll tell Bill I gave you the night off. We can call you if things change.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She opened the door and stepped outside into a beaut
iful sunlit morning. The warmth of the day was a promise of bright prospects and dazzling opportunity. She swallowed to stop the tears from flowing.

  ‘Tell Bill to call me when he needs me.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Aliceon said, closing the door.

  It was only then that Trudy realised she had left her phone on Bill’s kitchen counter. She didn’t bother going back for it. In that moment it felt as though she would never have a need for it.

  Chapter 26

  Trudy wondered if Daryl ever wore clothes.

  Daryl stood behind the kitchen counter of Eldorado. Her smooth features were set in a scowl of concentration as she went through the process of applying a thin veneer of butter to a single slice of bread. Trudy did not think she would have seen as much concentration on the features of a doctor involved in complex neurosurgery at the end of twelve hours of surgery. In fairness, she supposed some recipes could be extremely involved and require a great deal of focus. But, judging by the ingredients sprawled out on the counter, Trudy guessed Daryl was in the process of making a cheese and tomato sandwich.

  Then again, Trudy thought dourly, Daryl had looks and promiscuity on her side so she didn’t really need any skills. It was a mean thought, she supposed. But she didn’t think it was wholly untrue.

  She knew, if she had been blessed with a body as desirable as Daryl’s, she might be tempted to try near-constant nudity. It would be a pleasure to show off a figure that was as emaciated as every supermodel she’d ever seen in one of the glossy magazines. Constant nudity would mean she could take delight from knowing her boyish curves were being admired by men and she would never again have to deceive herself into believing that anyone thought she had abilities or talents of any note.

  She shook her head, not allowing her thoughts to take such a self-pitying direction. Instead, she focused on Daryl.

  True, Daryl lacked breasts of any size or substance.

  She was so painfully thin it was possible to count six ribs on each side before the light padding of her breasts and pectoral muscles became noticeable and got in the way of that diversion. Wasn’t Daryl’s the look that all men wanted?

  Aliceon, Trudy recalled, was equally slender. Trudy didn’t know if all the men wanted Aliceon but she did know that Bill had wanted her sufficiently so that he married the woman twice, employed her in a key role in his restaurant, and kept her living within walking distance of his home.

  She shook her head.

  She didn’t want to be thinking about the way she seemed to have been dismissed from Bill’s kitchen by his maître d’. Equally, she didn’t want to be thinking about his ongoing relationship with Aliceon. She tried to get her focus back onto the anomaly of Daryl, preparing a sandwich in Eldorado’s kitchen, and seeming to do everything in a state of constant nudity.

  It was easier to think about that than the other issues.

  Admittedly, being underweight was a look that Daryl wore well. Regardless of why it was perceived as pleasing, Trudy knew that Daryl’s skeletal thin frame would be considered desirable by most men. She also understood Daryl’s ease with her naked figure. If she had been blessed with such a shape, Trudy guessed she would have tried Daryl’s constant regimen of nudity so long as the cold didn’t become a problem.

  Daryl was so cold now her nipples stood hard.

  Trudy tore her gaze away. Common sense told her that Daryl’s nipples were probably not standing hard because of the cold. In that moment, Trudy realised she had been wavering uncertainly in the doorway of Eldorado for too long.

  She coughed and made her presence known.

  ‘I thought you’d left?’ Daryl announced brightly when she saw Trudy. She rushed over and hugged her with an embrace that was enthusiastic and maddeningly genuine.

  Trudy accepted the welcome. She hoped Daryl couldn’t sense her excruciating discomfort at being held by a naked woman. She wasn’t sure where to put her hands. She didn’t want to make contact with the woman’s bare skin. But she didn’t want to appear aloof. Bravely, she placed her bare hands on Daryl’s naked back and returned the woman’s welcoming hug.

  She tried not to sigh with relief when Daryl stepped away.

  Glancing around, Trudy saw that Eldorado had fallen into a chaotic state of disarray. The ground floor was supposed to be a communal area kept tidy by herself, Charlotte and Donny. Admittedly, Donny had never contributed much to the cleaning regime but he had always kept his level of untidiness to a tolerable minimum. Now it seemed as though he had stopped concerning himself about such small and trifling matters.

  ‘Did you come back to join in the fun?’

  ‘No.’ Trudy spoke without allowing emotion to colour her voice. She didn’t want Daryl, or anyone else, to hear any suggestion of the regrets she was now harbouring. ‘I’ve not returned. I’m certainly not here for fun. I’m just here to collect a few personal belongings.’

  ‘You’ve moved in with the old man, haven’t you?’

  ‘He’s older than me.’

  Trudy didn’t want to get into a discussion about whether or not she’d moved in with Bill. After seeing the way he was still so much at ease with Aliceon, Trudy wondered if moving in with him would be an enormous mistake. She certainly had no intention of finding fresh clothes and returning to Bill’s immediately. But she wasn’t going to share so much information with Daryl.

  ‘I’m not sure I like Bill being called an old man.’

  Daryl nodded as though she understood. ‘Old people can be funny about things like that, can’t they? Donny was saying some cruel things about old people whilst we were watching the news last night. You should have heard him. He was hilarious.’

  ‘Donny can be very droll at times.’

  She spoke in the controlled tones of a robot – articulating each word without revealing any emotion. After a moment’s pause, deciding she had shared enough pleasantries with Daryl, Trudy moved towards the stairway.

  Daryl stepped in front of her. Her smile was too broad. She looked nervous.

  ‘What are you after?’

  ‘My possessions.’

  ‘I can get them for you, if you tell me what you want.’

  ‘There’s no need,’ Trudy insisted.

  She made another attempt to go up the stairs and, again Daryl stepped in front of her. Her small breasts jiggled ever so slightly with the movement.

  ‘Let me do it,’ Daryl insisted. ‘Let me get your stuff.’

  Trudy stepped forcefully past her. ‘I can get them myself.’

  She started up the stairs two at a time.

  Daryl’s slender fingers curled around her wrist. ‘Please, Trudy. Hold on a moment. I can get whatever it is you need.’

  Trudy pulled her hand away, wondering what was going on inside Daryl’s head. She hurried up the stairs, aware that a naked Daryl was chasing after her, reaching out like some extra from a pornographic zombie movie. If the moment hadn’t been so disconcerting she would have found it amusing. It was only when Trudy reached the top of the stairs, and she heard the laboured breathing that came from within her bedroom, that she finally began to understand.

  Someone was having sex in her bedroom.

  Daryl had been trying to protect her from seeing as much.

  After the past few days with Bill, Trudy was familiar with the sounds of breathless excitement and mounting satisfaction. She had heard enough cries of elation – most of them her own – so that she recognised the sighs of orgasm. She stepped into the room and tried not to be surprised by what she saw. After the morning she had endured, with Aliceon bursting into Bill’s bedroom, and with the idea of Bill presenting himself naked in front of his ex-wife, the sight of someone having sex on her bed should not have been particularly shocking.

  But this was not particularly conventional sex.

  Trudy gasped.

  Donny was naked in the centre of the bed, pounding deep between the spread thighs of a naked brunette. Even though she was currently furious with Donny for his rudenes
s and the way he had dismissed her from Sweet Temptation, Trudy had to admit that Donny had a good figure. His shoulders were broad and tapered down to a narrow waist over taut buttocks.

  Aesthetically she supposed, he presented a pleasing sight. He was muscular, attractive and, if the moans of pleasure were an honest indicator, he was extremely proficient as a lover. But Trudy didn’t like that he was having sex on her bed, using her bedding, and being involved in something that looked unexpectedly depraved.

  He wasn’t just having sex with the half-hidden brunette.

  He was also kissing Gemma.

  ‘Trudy,’ Daryl called.

  The woman was close behind her. One of Daryl’s hands fell on Trudy’s shoulder, dragging her away from the bedroom door and forcing her to turn. ‘Whatever it is you want from the bedroom, I can get it for you. You don’t have to go in there.’

  Trudy refused to let Daryl pull her away.

  Above the naked brunette a naked Gemma squatted, pushing her sex onto the woman’s face whilst she kissed Donny. Her breasts were bared but mostly covered by Donny’s hands. Stiff nipples squeezed through his knuckles. The angle of the doorway stopped Trudy from seeing the union of their bodies, although her imagination had already supplied all the details she needed so the images were etched deep into her now troubled psyche.

  ‘Please.’

  Daryl sounded painfully insistent, as though this revelation was causing her personal upset. She tugged at Trudy’s arm, trying to forcefully lure her away from the door.

  ‘Please, Trudy. Come downstairs and let me do you a drink and then we’ll sort out getting your stuff from the room as soon as they’ve finished doing whatever it is that they’re doing in here.’

  ‘I can see what they’re doing,’ Trudy said quietly. ‘And I have no intention of waiting for them to finish.’

  ‘Trude?’

  Donny turned to grin at her. He didn’t bother interrupting his rhythm. He continued to rock his hips back and forth into the brunette beneath him. Trudy could hear the squelch of his entry each time he pushed into the woman. Her nostrils caught the crude and feral scents of sweat and sex. She refused to let her features show any response.