House of Temptations

by Yvonne Strickland

  She arose and without further comment, Angela followed.

  'That's a bit odd, isn't it?' remarked Angela a little later. 'Surely nobody would know if it was one of us. Can it matter all that much?'

  'Apparently it does,' replied Karen, it's the start of quite a big project too: international sales and all that.'

  'What are they shooting?' asked Angela.

  'Well, clothes for one thing and, er - all sorts of other bits and pieces. I'm not entirely sure.'

  'Nothing dangerous, I hope.'

  'I really wouldn't know,' replied Karen, picking up her coffee cup.

  Angela picked up her cup too and regarded Karen. 'Why don't you have a go?'

  'What, me?'

  'Why not? Unless it's something you object to like, well

  you know.'

  Karen stared back for a moment then looked down at the table. 'Em, well, I suppose Sonia did mention it to me once - modelling, that is. Nothing ever came of it.'

  'You could hold your own with any model, anywhere,' said Angela with a smile.

  'Thanks, but I've never been involved with anything like that. I mean, it might show if I haven't got the confidence.'

  'You don't need all that much confidence with your looks and figure,' smiled Angela.

  Karen swirled the coffee about in her cup and stared at it thoughtfully. 'Has anyone ever recognised you, Angie? All those things you and the others have been in. Somebody must have seen one of you at sometime or other.'

  Angela smiled. 'Karen sweetie, I bet if you had just put down a copy of any well known fashion magazine and half the models from it walked by you in the street, you wouldn't realise it was them. None of us have had any problems that I'm aware of. I certainly haven't.'

  'Oh well, I just wondered,' said Karen.

  Karen left the bar and crossed the ground floor corridor to enter the main office opposite. Sonia was at her desk next to the window on the far side and about to finish a telephone conversation as Karen closed the door. She walked across the room towards Sonia, skirting about the group of green leather chairs arranged around the coffee table in the centre. Sonia replaced the telephone and looked up at her with a blank expression. Usually, Karen could expect a smile.

  'No luck?'

  'She's cleared off somewhere with her boyfriend. That's all anyone seems to know.'

  'Well, I might be able to help out if - if you want, that is?'

  Sonia leant back in the chair and held her with dark eyes. 'I don't see what you or anyone here can do. Anyway, you aren't supposed to be working today; it's Saturday.'

  Karen pulled over a chair and sat down opposite. 'What I - what I mean is, if it would help out, I'll stand in for the other girl.'

  'My dear,' replied Sonia, i do appreciate what you're saying, but none of this is your problem and it's not what I would expect of you. That has always been our understanding, since you accepted the situation here.'

  'Yes, I know, but that was for my sake and I saw things a bit differently then. Anyway, you did once suggest that I could try a bit of modelling didn't you. And that's all it is, isn't it?'

  Sonia looked at her for a moment, then smiled. 'Darling, there's no denying it would get me out of a mess. We have a contract with the publishers in London, but you are more important than -'

  is it because you don't think I'd be good enough?' cut in Karen.

  'Good enough! I think we both know there aren't any worries on that account.'

  'All right,' continued Karen, 'I know all the outline details since I typed most of the letters. It's just an erotic fashion show isn't it? I mean, there's nothing else?'

  Sonia placed clenched knuckles against her chin. 'Yes, there is I'm afraid. You've dealt with the letters and contracts but they don't go into all the details.'

  'Oh, I see. Well, you could give me some idea anyway, couldn't you, seeing as we've got this far?'

  Sonia relaxed further back into the chair. 'Look, do you want a drink? I opened a bottle of amontillado last night. It's in the fridge.'

  'God, is it that bad?' smiled Karen.

  'That is for you to decide. But it's me that needs the drink; I thought you might like to join me.'

  'It's a bit early, but why not?'

  Sonia proceeded to the kitchenette and reappeared moments later with the bottle and two glasses. 'All right,' she began, pouring the sherry, 'they are theme shots. The theme is a damsel in distress. The girl who plays her role is the one who seems to have cleared off.' Sonia looked at her over the sherry glass. The set-ups are bondage subjects, with all the props and appropriate backgrounds. That's the reason for them coming all the way here.'

  i see,' replied Karen, looking into her glass.

  There's no direct sex involved,' continued Sonia, 'but the two girls are complete strangers to everyone here. I haven't known them long myself. That is another reason why I don't expect you to concern yourself about it.'

  Karen continued to stare into the glass. Silent moments drifted by. 'Sonia, some of the things I've done in this house - you and I, I mean - I don't think it's going to make much difference is it? And if I'm the only one who can help, well . ..'

  Sonia smiled at her, knowing full well how Karen had been drawn ever deeper into the maze of sensuality since her arrival all those months ago. It was a maze she seemed to have no wish to find her way out of. i'd be very grateful, I really would. I did consider Rose, but she is still wanted by the police, so it doesn't seem like a good idea.'

  'Yes,' replied Karen, T wondered about that myself. So, what's next?'

  'Best if you talk to Cheryl about the details; she's responsible for outfits, and the rest. I've left everything to her, though she won't need to be around most of the time because everyone involved will know what they are supposed to do.'

  'Hmm, perhaps it would be better if I didn't ask. I think I might leave things as they are and worry about it on Monday.'

  'It's not being taped by James,' said Sonia. 'There's only the technician, and her female assistant, and they're used to it. They've worked for me all over Europe so you need not be concerned about them.'

  'Why isn't it going on video?' asked Karen.

  'Because there isn't a strong story line; it was never conceived as a movie. James isn't even here that day, though they will be using his cameras.'

  'You mean they won't be in the room?'

  Sonia smiled. 'No, they're processing the images as a sequence of digitised stills. They'll be in the annexe. You don't have to meet them at all, my dear.'

  Karen relaxed. 'God, I imagined tripods, flashguns and people dodging about all over the place to get the best angles.'

  'Well, I'm glad to say it won't be quite like that. The images will even be modifed on computer. They will alter backgrounds, put in new features. But that's not our concern for now.'

  Karen was glad about James, for all the people she knew at the house, Sonia was the only one she wished to see the images. Sonia could possess those, for Sonia already possessed her.

  Karen thought of the tall and gaunt James; pale blue eyes peering magnified through thick spectacles beneath abundant white hair. James worked in the annexe gathering, recording and editing the images from the many discreet cameras positioned in those rooms of the house where they were required. He saw everything the girls and the visitors did in those special rooms with relative indifference. His emotional and physical inclinations were not towards members of the opposite sex. He was the perfect man for the job.

  There are only three set-ups being done here,' said Sonia. The rest will be shot in Paris in ten days time.'

  Sonia held her gaze, hesitating for a moment. 'Look, if you're still keen and you fancy another trip to Paris, it will be purely fashion; indoor and outdoor location shots. You would be perfect for that too.'

  'Well, yes, I'd love to have a go.'

  'And,' continued Sonia, 'you can stay with Josephine again if you wish. I think she and Armand gave you a good time before, didn't they?' />
  'Yes,' answered Karen, feeling her heart quicken at the thought of what they had done together, 'they gave me a very good time.'

  'Good,' said Sonia, 'then it's settled, and I can relax again. And you - what are you doing today?' Did you know Lorna and a couple of the others are off to Nar-bonne soon? Why don't you go along with them?'

  fcNo, I can't,' answered Karen, rising from the table. kVal's doing my hair at eleven.'

  kOh, I see. Then perhaps I'll go myself, now that I don't have to sit by the phone any longer. I could do with a break from this office.'

  Karen regarded this as unusual, for as she left, she recalled that Sonia rarely mixed socially with the others and usually went out alone in her own car. The offer of help had evidently removed a considerable weight from her shoulders.

  After some time with Angela and Annette by the pool, Karen returned to the house, passed by the arched entrance to the bar and the door opposite the now empty office, then turned and hurried up the main stairs to her apartment on the second floor.

  The apartment was cool, comfortable and self-contained. She pulled off her dress and gazed through the window across the gardens, at the shimmering pool and the sunlit landscape beyond. Her watch said ten forty. She began to wonder about the commitment she had made. In the warmth of the shower she wondered too about the events of earlier that morning. Had Angela been watching her? She recalled what she had seen Angela do in the gardens with those two men on the night of the party last year, and how she herself had been both shocked and aroused. It was possible that at that time she had begun to realise how her own sensuality was beginning to push out into the light, as a budding flower hidden beneath a stone needs to find the sun.

  Once dried and in her small bedroom, she regarded herself in the long mirror. 'Can't delay,' she muttered, seeing the clock-radio display wink over to ten fifty-two. She stepped over to the wardrobe. Pulling open the door, she glanced over the profusion of dresses and outfits; some fpr everyday wear, some for occasions of a much more private nature. Most of them, including most of the shoes and underwear, had been put there on her return from London. No one had said anything about it since, and she had accepted that they were a gift from Sonia. There was no time to prevaricate. She opened the drawer beneath the dresser and lifted out her favourite style of bikini brief in sheerest black nylon, then selected and pulled on a close-fitting, sleeveless, high-necked top in white, ribbed nylon. It moulded perfectly to her body. Her chosen skirt was a denim blue flared mini and for her feet, high-heeled, sling-backed sandals in white leather with delicate braided straps and small gold buckles.

  She closed the wardrobe door, looked at her reflection and pushed the hair back over her shoulders. She wanted to look good. Valerie and Kim always did in their own little domain, no matter what their duties involved. It was part of their image. It had to be part of Karen's.

  Karen used the narrow back stairs to return to the ground floor. These were darker, windowless, and seldom used. She always tried to be discreet when visiting the beauty parlour, even when it Was only for a hair-do. The guilt, like the thrill of that first visit had never entirely vanished.

  When she reached the blue panelled door with the little appointments only today sign, she did not try the ornate brass handle for she knew the door would be locked. The fact that it was usually kept locked was a form of reassurance to others who used their services, as well as to Karen. She raised her hand and rang the brass doorbell. Seconds later, there was a click and the door swung inward. A smiling face appeared, a face with flashing gypsy eyes and long black crinkled hair held in place by a blue clasp. 'Hello lovey! Come inside.'

  Karen followed, glancing briefly back about the corridor.

  The door swung shut behind and they moved through the short passage to the inner door. The beauty parlour was welcoming, with soft pink cornice lights, deep blue tiled walls and rich mauve carpet. It could be regarded as a practical place, with a long wall-mirror above the two sinks, the chrome and black leather chairs and the two hairdryers on stands further along, just before the bathroom. But Karen knew that it, like other parts of the house, had its tingling secrets. She was aware of the low bench extending out from the opposite wall, presently covered by fitted pink towelling, and the oddly shaped chair close to the hairdryers, its outline softened by the dark blue fabric cover. She knew well what they were meant for and why there were obscured.

  Valerie and Kim did not fail her expectations. The contrast in their looks was obvious: Kim, in her early twenties, was a little younger than Valerie; her long hair was mid-brown, and her eyes were blue; her features were rounder and softer.

  In attire they were identical, for both had on skin-tight, stretch-vinyl catsuits in deep metallic blue, with high collars and long sleeves. Their high-heeled ankle boots were metallic grey and the wide belt about their slim waists was the same colour. Whatever service Karen returned to this room for, she was always made to feel special. Perhaps Valerie and Kim made everyone feel special. Both smiled and chatted as they worked on her hair. Even the act of brushing was sensual. Karen sat with her eyes closed, wishing them never to stop.

  She was, all the same, unable to dispel the anxiety from her mind. Had it been a mistake to offer herself for the photographic sessions? As time went by, the doubts were growing.

  When they had finished brushing, Valerie said, 'You're tense, Karen. Is anything the matter?'

  'Yes, I thought so too,' added Kim. 'You look a bit worried.'

  'Do I? Well I suppose you might as well know. I've offered to help out with this photo shoot, because of the missing model.'

  'Oh, so you're going to be the sacrificial victim.' Kim grinned from her reflection in the mirror. A look of concern passed over Karen's face. Valerie perceived it and said, 'Don't worry deary, it's nothing too heavy. Take no notice of her. She's only jealous because she couldn't be in it!'

  They sat on stools at either side of her and began to gently massage her face and neck. Karen relaxed and closed her eyes. They did their job well. Better than anyone Karen had ever encountered. Even styling and brushing hair was an act of sensuality in their hands and they well knew the effect it had upon her.

  After a time, a voice close to her ear, Valerie's voice, whispered, 'We don't need to stop now. We can go on until all your tensions have vanished. It's all part of the service.'

  'Yes, all part of the service,' added Kim, softly with a gentle smile.

  Karen had heard those words before. She was well aware of what they implied.

  'Don't say another word,' came the voice of Valerie in her other ear.

  But while the words were familiar that did not mean there was a routine. She did not know exactly what to expect, and never had done. She had only come to know that she should keep her eyes closed and remain silent.

  Two pairs of hands squeezed and caressed her neck, shoulders and arms. Soon, she was aware of them pulling up her nylon top. She raised her arms to allow it free passage as it slid over her head and was removed. Her heart began to beat faster beneath firm and naked breasts.

  But no one spoke. Karen resisted the temptation to open her eyes a little in order to see what they were about to do, for she heard behind her a slight metallic chink: the now familar sound of a roller buckle. At last, something happened. She felt the harness as it was lowered into position over her head. She breathed in the pungent odour of latex as the soft pads pressed over her eyes and the rubber ball forced open and slid into her mouth. The buckles chinked and tightened as the rubber web was fitted securely about her face and head.

  She knew they would deny her speech and possibly vision. Except for that first time, on the bench, they always had. They understood her very well. They understood that if she could not voice her objections, she need not feel guilt about what they did with her.

  They helped her out of the chair and guided her a few unseeing and uncertain steps to what she guessed must be near to the centre of the room. Her wrists were taken simulta
neously and both arms were pulled firmly up above her head. Each wrist was slipped quickly into the cool embrace of a leather cuff and each cuff was secured with its buckle until her arms were held up and apart, above her head. Now it was too late to wonder what they were going to do. No muffled protest, no tugging against the straps would make any difference. They were not the friends she knew outside the parlour, not the Val and Kim of the restaurant, the pool or the gardens. They were instruments of lust who held and controlled her body, though she knew that, in her case at least, it was not done without affection. The waistband loosened and her skirt was allowed to fall. Fingers and thumbs slipped down under the elastic of the little briefs, pushed them down and eased them over her shoes.

  Something was being moved towards her across the carpet, a piece of furniture perhaps. It stopped close by. She gripped the connecting straps above her wrists as the unseen hands pulled her foot up from the floor and held it high, whilst the object they had brought over was slipped under her knee. The operation was repeated quickly with her other leg and Karen realised that they had placed the low bench beneath so that she was kneeling on the pink towelling which covered it. The hands took her legs and began to ease them apart. A cool strap was passed around each, just above the knee, and the pulling continued until her thighs were fixed wide and her arms and body were held rigid with the increased tension.

  Moments after they moved away, another sound reached her ears. There was no mistaking the snap of the thin latex gloves they were adjusting on their hands. A cupboard door opened, and a glass stopper was removed from a bottle and placed down by the sink. She could hear them breathing and moving beside her. They dripped warm oil about her shoulders and latex fingers smoothed it into her flesh. More followed and the oil, pleasantly burning, was spread and massaged about her back and over her breasts; hands squeezing about the nipples, making them sensitive and button hard. She did not know whose hands did what, for Valerie and Kim remained silent, but as electric fingers played further down her body, she ceased to consider the matter further.