The Gallery

by Fredrica Alleyn

  ‘But you’re painting,’ Cressida pointed out.

  ‘Of course I’m not!’ snapped Rick in a robust denial that contradicted his statement about feeling frail.

  ‘Really? Is the brush behind your ear some new kind of decoration, like a nose stud or something?’ enquired Cressida with interest. Rick reached up and grabbed hold of the brush, but it was obvious that he couldn’t think of anything to say. ‘What are you painting?’ continued Cressida, pressing hard now that she had him at a disadvantage. ‘Your new “puppet woman” with the torn jacket?’

  ‘Of course not. If you must know I find some painting therapeutic, which is why I’ve decided to try my hand at a bit this evening. Why are you in such a temper about it? You should be pleased I’m not at death’s door.’

  ‘Should I?’ asked Cressida quietly. ‘I think you’re wrong there because I get the feeling I’ve been dumped. You’ve handed me over to your boss, the worthy Guy, haven’t you? You were never ill, you didn’t even have the suspicion of a sniffle, you were simply obeying orders and handing me to him on a plate. Well, I don’t like that. I thought we meant something to each other. It seems I was wrong.’

  Rick’s eyes were anguished. ‘Come in,’ he said suddenly. ‘We’ll talk about this properly. You are special to me, I promise, but I can’t afford to get involved. My work has to come first and Guy felt you were distracting me from it.’

  ‘Really? I remember him saying that I was your muse, your inspiration!’

  ‘Cressida, please come inside. I really do need to talk to you,’ he begged, but Cressida knew that she couldn’t do as he asked. In the first place she wasn’t really in love with him and it wouldn’t be fair to pretend that she was, and in the second place she didn’t dare risk losing her contact with Guy at this vital stage.

  ‘I don’t think so, Rick,’ she said calmly. ‘You see, whatever the truth was behind last night’s invitation, it doesn’t matter now. Guy and I had a marvellous time and I’m going to see him again tomorrow. I only called in to tell you that we were finished.’

  Rick’s face fell. ‘I see,’ he said quietly.

  ‘No protests? No arguments?’ enquired Cressida.

  Rick shook his head. ‘I don’t expect you to understand, it’s all too complicated, but I can’t argue and I can’t try and compete. I only hope he doesn’t hurt you too badly. I know you didn’t love me, but please, Cressida, don’t fall in love with him. He doesn’t understand the meaning of the word, and I don’t want to see you become another of his victims.’

  ‘Take care of yourself,’ said Cressida quietly, acutely aware of the fact that when she brought down Guy and Marcia, Rick would be charged as well, even if it was only as an accessory, and his punishment was likely to be harsh.

  ‘I will,’ promised Rick, but she knew he didn’t understand and felt a pang of conscience at what she was doing to him.

  Later, after she’d got home and talked to Detective Chief Inspector Williams, she felt less guilty. Defrauding innocent people and abusing their trust was despicable, as her chief had pointed out. All the same, when she went to bed that night she was still looking forward to the following evening with far more anticipation than she should have been. Her sexuality, which had once played a secondary role to her career, was now beginning to take precedence over everything else, and she couldn’t wait for the touch of Guy’s hands on her body again.

  The next day she managed to get into the main office while Marcia was out to lunch, and there in the ‘Renovations’ file, which inexplicably was still under the letter ‘E’, she found the new entry that was so vital to her case. Lord Truscott’s Correggio had been booked in and she was able to take a photograph of the entry with the tiny camera she’d been given at the start of her assignment. When she returned to her desk she was surprised that she didn’t feel a greater sense of triumph.

  Cressida wore a calf-length white summer dress with a bold pattern of blue and yellow shells and fishes on it for her second evening with Guy. The dress buttoned down the front, which she thought might well prove useful if things went as she hoped, and in the V of the neckline she wore a tiny pearl on a slender gold chain that had been a present from her godmother on her twenty-first birthday. She knew that her choice had been right when she saw Guy get out of his car wearing a single-breasted blazer over a blue and white shirt with a button-down collar, dark grey slacks and a maroon, white and navy striped tie. He looked casual but smart, and she saw a fleeting smile of approval on his face as she greeted him, but it was quickly gone and within a few minutes they were on their way out of London.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked with interest.

  ‘It’s a surprise,’ he told her. ‘I’m like that – full of surprises.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ said Cressida with a laugh.

  Guy glanced sideways at her. ‘Yes, I expect you can. After all, you’re a girl who enjoys surprising people, aren’t you? I mean, we take on this smart, demure creature and the next thing we know she’s having a wild affair with Rick Marks, the most revered erotic artist of the day. I’m beginning to think you deceived us at your interview.’

  A slight coldness touched the nape of Cressida’s neck. ‘Deceived you?’

  ‘You pretended to be someone you weren’t,’ he said smoothly.

  ‘No, you assumed I was someone I wasn’t. There’s quite a difference,’ said Cressida quickly.

  ‘Is there? Not that much of a difference, not in the “I say what I mean is the same as I mean what I say” class, is it? In order for us to make an incorrect assessment you have surely had to mislead us?’

  ‘Not at all. Perhaps you’re just not very good at assessing people. Try using a psychologist when you employ people; some of them are trained to help firms do just that. I think that’s pretty amazing.’

  ‘So do I!’ Guy laughed. ‘I prefer to use my own amateur brand of psychology and if I do make mistakes, let’s hope they’re all as rewarding as you’ve turned out to be.’

  ‘If I was a mistake I was Marcia’s, not yours,’ pointed out Cressida, finding the verbal sparring a considerable turn-on.

  ‘And Sue’s,’ said Guy.

  ‘Sue’s?’

  He laughed. ‘Yes, Sue! Your predecessor and long-time best friend. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten her already. How is she? What’s she doing now?’

  Cressida’s mind went blank. She was totally unprepared for the question and since telling the truth – ‘As a matter of fact she’s back on the beat as a WPC’ – was out of the question she floundered around trying to think of something acceptable.

  Unseen by her Guy smiled to himself. ‘I take it you’re no longer such good friends as you were a few weeks ago?’

  ‘The trouble is,’ said Cressida, his remark giving her inspiration, ‘Sue’s a bit jealous of me these days. She liked working at the gallery and seems to resent the fact that I’ve taken her place.’

  ‘Why did she leave us then?’ asked Guy idly.

  Cressida went cold. She couldn’t remember what reason Sue had given for handing in her notice, and she was beginning to feel like a mouse being tormented by a particularly sadistic cat. ‘Because she fancied you and wasn’t getting anywhere,’ she blurted out, deciding that a half-truth was the safest thing.

  ‘Yes, I rather thought she did,’ murmured Guy. ‘Does she know anything about you and Rick?’

  ‘Yes, and that’s when we lost contact. She must have fancied him too and she couldn’t understand why I’d succeeded when she hadn’t. She’s used to getting any man she wants,’ she added truthfully. ‘I think most girls who look like her do.’

  ‘She was just another blonde airhead,’ said Guy dismissively. ‘What you saw was undoubtedly what you got. I prefer more interesting packages. The wrapping may not be quite as eye-catching, but the contents generally prove to be more exciting.’

  ‘I don’t think I like being told my wrapping isn’t as attractive as Sue’s!’ laughed Cressida.

>   ‘I don’t think it bothers you one iota,’ retorted Guy. ‘Do you know where we are?’ he added. Cressida shook her head. ‘We’re about to go through Maidenhead – the lock’s on your left. A little further on there’s my favourite eating place. I hope you enjoy it as much as I always have.’

  Cressida stared out of the car window at the people strolling along the side of the river dressed in their flimsy summer clothes and she tried to relax, but Guy’s questions had unsettled her and when he turned left and they drove along a wood-lined road with virtually no one else on it she felt her unease increase. Without any address to give her chief she knew that there was no chance of anyone tailing her, and it was beginning to look as though tonight was the first time she might need help.

  Guy swung the car off the road and along a wide track that led them deep into the woods. ‘Nearly there,’ he said cheerfully.

  ‘You mean there’s a restaurant in the middle of the woods?’ asked Cressida.

  ‘Not exactly; I told a small fib,’ murmured Guy, and Cressida felt a touch of fear. The woods seemed totally deserted and when the car drew to a halt they were surrounded by nothing more than tall trees and thick shrubs with the occasional sound of birdsong for company.

  ‘Get out,’ said Guy softly.

  Cressida didn’t argue. She opened the passenger door and stood by the car, her eyes scanning the scenery for any possible escape route.

  ‘You look worried,’ continued Guy, walking to the back of the car and opening the boot. ‘You’ve also gone silent, which isn’t like you. What’s the matter?’

  ‘I’m a little confused. I thought we were coming out to dinner,’ she replied, relieved that her voice didn’t sound as nervous as she was feeling.

  ‘So we are. Here, help me get the picnic basket out, will you? I thought that given your fantasy for making passionate love in the fresh air, this was a good place to spend the evening. Or have you lost interest in that particular dream?’

  ‘No,’ said Cressida, her legs going weak with relief. ‘It’s still something that excites me.’

  ‘Good. I’m sure Rick did his best to make all your dreams come true, but hopefully I can make it even more memorable for you,’ said Guy, spreading a rug on the ground and taking a bottle of wine out of the hamper. ‘Here, let’s have a drink first, shall we? What should the toast be do you think?’

  ‘To the success of the gallery?’ suggested Cressida.

  ‘Perhaps, but I think I’d like to make it more personal. Let’s say, may all your wishes come true, Cressida, whatever they may be.’

  Cressida looked at him, registered the way his eyes were searching her face, and knew that while he might not be certain exactly what she was up to he definitely knew that she was playing some kind of game and that she wasn’t really what she was pretending to be. ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ she said quickly. ‘Let’s have a toast to our true selves.’

  ‘True selves?’ he asked with a frown.

  ‘Yes, let’s toast the people we really are rather than the people we pretend to be. I’m sure you know as well as I do that no one is quite what they appear.’

  Guy’s mouth lifted slightly at the corners. ‘How astute! Very well then, to our true selves.’

  They both sipped from the cut-glass wine goblets he’d brought with him, carefully wrapped in damask napkins, and then as Cressida reached into the hamper for something to eat his hand closed round her wrist. ‘I think we’ll eat later,’ he said softly. ‘I can’t wait any longer. I’ve been thinking about this all day and I’m afraid my self-control is beginning to fail me.’

  Cressida stared at him and felt his fingers gently stroking the inside of her wrist in a caress that triggered a rush of desire in her. ‘I think you’re right,’ she murmured.

  ‘I know I’m right,’ said Guy, and pushing the hamper to one side he started to unbutton her dress.

  Chapter Eleven

  GUY GAVE A sigh of contentment as he peeled off the dress and saw that beneath it Cressida was wearing only a white G-string. He pressed her down on the rug and for a moment she closed her eyes as he started to caress her upper arms and softly kiss the corners of her mouth. As soon as he saw her eyes close Guy pushed her arms up above her head and then, before she realised what was happening, he’d drawn a piece of cord out of the hamper and tied it round her wrists. Cressida’s eyes flew open and she stared at him anxiously, suddenly wondering if it was all a trick and now that he had her hands fastened he intended to question her about her undercover work.

  ‘Don’t look so anxious,’ murmured Guy. ‘This is all part of the pleasure. Stand up now and move over here.’ He guided her a few metres away from the rug, moving deeper into the woods, and then threw the end of the cord over an overhanging branch of a tree so that she was standing with her arms tightly extended upward. When he pulled on the cord to tie it she had to go on tiptoe which meant that her calf muscles were stretched. With only her G-string to cover her she felt horribly vulnerable to any passer-by, as well as to Guy himself, but despite this the blood was racing through her veins and her whole body surface tingled with a strange excitement.

  ‘You look incredible,’ murmured Guy, standing back to study her. ‘Rick would adore you like this! Just one more touch and then we can really begin to live out your fantasy.’

  ‘I didn’t ask to be restrained,’ said Cressida breathlessly.

  Guy laughed. ‘I know, but you love it, don’t you? It makes you feel like the woman in the picture you admired so much; both mistress and slave at the same time.’

  ‘Yes,’ she muttered, and then jumped with alarm as he walked behind her and slipped a dark band of material over her eyes. ‘Tell me to let you go if you don’t like the game,’ he whispered, his breath warm against her neck, but Cressida didn’t want him to release her. Her body was clamouring for his touch and she knew that her sex lips were already swelling as she started to become aroused by the entire dangerously erotic set-up.

  She heard Guy move away from her again and then she felt his fingers at her mouth. ‘Eat this,’ he told her quietly, and very slowly slipped an olive into her mouth so that she could savour the salty tang as she sucked and then crunched on it. When he brought her a second olive he teased her with it, pressing it against her lips before ordering her to put out her tongue so that he could place it on the tip as the liquid in which it had been bottled left a trail down her chin. As she ate it he licked at the briney juice, his tongue teasing her chin and the top of her bare breasts where a few drops had spilled.

  Cressida’s breathing was rapid and after she’d finished the second olive Guy allowed her to drink a little wine from one of the goblets, but when she tried to drain the goblet he moved to the back of her and tipped the rest of the chilled wine down her spine.

  With a gasp of surprise Cressida began to squirm against her restraint and her hips twisted in an effort to find some kind of stimulation lower down her body. ‘Not yet,’ Guy told her, his voice kind but firm, and then he licked the back of her body with tiny flicking movements of his tongue as he drank the wine. By the time he’d finished Cressida couldn’t stop herself from squirming with rising excitement and she kept making tiny noises of pleasure.

  For a few minutes after that she was left alone, and to her horror she heard the sound of voices in the distance. ‘Guy, someone’s near us!’ she called but he didn’t answer her and when she heard a car door slam she grew frantic. She could imagine only too well how she must look, and the thought of a stranger witnessing her body, stretched tightly with arms extended upward and swollen breasts jutting out shamelessly, was too dreadful to contemplate. Then she wondered if the car door that had slammed had been Guy’s, and if he’d left her there in the woods as a punishment because he knew what she really was and intended to humiliate her in retaliation.

  To her surprise all these fears only served to increase her arousal. Her belly felt hot and swollen as she remained suspended from the tree branch with her senses sc
reaming for stimulation. She would never have believed it possible to feel so aroused when she was utterly helpless in the hands of a man considered to be highly dangerous but it was true and it made her realise that before this she’d never known anything about her own sexuality.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Guy softly, and she gave a whimper of relief.

  ‘I thought other people were here and that you’d left me,’ she admitted, her voice catching in her throat.

  Guy ran a finger idly over her left nipple which was swollen and erect. ‘It doesn’t seem to have affected you in any adverse way,’ he remarked, then he tweaked the nipple hard and to Cressida’s shocked embarrassment a shudder ran through her as her body rushed into a small orgasm. ‘In fact, it’s been positively beneficial,’ he continued. Cressida kept silent.

  ‘Is this what you fantasised about?’ asked Guy, his right hand resting on her lower back in a gesture that seemed to Cressida to be one of almost tender support as her orgasm slowly died away. ‘Is this how you imagined your open-air sex?’

  ‘No,’ whispered Cressida. ‘It wasn’t at all like this.’

  ‘And when Rick tried to make your dream come true, was that like this?’ persisted Guy. Cressida shook her head, longing for him to start touching her again because even the sensation of his hand against her naked back was arousing her.

  Because of the way she’d been tied up every muscle and sinew in her body was taut, making the nerve endings more responsive to stimulation. When she felt a strange soft pricking sensation over her abdomen she gasped and jerked against the tension of the cord around her wrists, but almost immediately the sensation moved to the insides of her tensed arms, swirling around the crook of her elbow and then down her inner arm to the inside of her wrist. The movement was repeated again and again, and slowly the delicate tingles began to spread throughout other areas of her body and her whole pelvic region began to ache with frustration.

  ‘Guess what I’m touching you with,’ murmured Guy.