Protection

by Carla Blake

  “They are.”Andrea replied. “But they’re not holding out much hope. No clear shot of the face and the clothes might have been worn by anyone at the gym.”

  “Tough break. Is there anything else? For the party I mean.”

  “The paparazzi. How do you intend to deal with them?”

  “Probably with a large stick! But seriously, we’ll have guys patrolling the grounds constantly. All of them armed and some with dogs. We’ll also have guys posted outside the gates in case anything kicks off there and if you haven’t already double checked your guest list, then I suggest you do it now because no one is getting in unless their name is on it.”

  A knock at the kitchen door and Claude strolled in without being asked. A massive grin spread across his thin face.

  “It is done, Miss.Shilling.”He announced in his fake, French accent. “Your beautiful winter palace awaits your pleasure.”

  He had done a magnificent job.

  In the entrance hall and standing proud at the foot of the stairs, a huge Christmas tree stood amid a stack of perfectly wrapped ‘presents’. Its massive boughs tied with red and silver bows, plus hundreds of crystal droplets that sparkled and shone in the light.

  Silver tinsel wound down the banisters, and hung from the picture rails were thick strands of red and silver tinsel, arranged in perfect arcs, whilst from the ceiling dozens of tiny, suspended stars twisted and turned in the warmth from the cental heating, sending slivers of light dancing across the walls and carpet.

  It was beautiful and catching her breath Carrie would have liked to have stayed longer, but Claude was already ushering them towards the lounge, confident that what they’d just seen was nothing compared to what was to come.

  The furniture had gone and in its place in the middle of the room stood an enormous, wooden sleigh. It’s deep red cushions a startling contrast to the delicate drifts of pure, white ‘snow’ which piled high around its sides, gave the impression the whole thing was being pulled across the arctic wastes.

  “It’s magnificent!”Andrea gasped. “But the snow. Won’t it get kicked to pieces?”

  “Not at all.”Claude said, walking over to the nearest ‘drift’ and kicking it. “It’s made from hardened polystyrene coated with an opaque, snow covering. Nothing can break it. Now please, watch. “

  And flicking a carefully concealed switch on the mantlepiece, Claude turned on dozens of delicate, white lights, strung on almost invisible wire from floor to ceiling and hung all around the room.

  “Is clever, yes?”Claude asked, following Carrie’s delighted gaze. “At night it will seem like you are dancing in a room filled with diamonds.”

  “It’s gorgeous!”Carrie cried. “I don’t know what to say, you’re so clever! Oh, my God! Look at the patio!”

  Again covered with artificial snow, Claude had also added a film of glitter and colourful fairy lights that swung in the breeze and sent slivers of colour glancing across the ‘snow’. Another tree also stood in the corner, it’s needles allowed to spill artistically underfoot whilst its branches were full of tiny bottles of Champagne.

  “But that is not all!”Claude said with a flourish and turning his back led them into the dining room.

  The dining room, as they had known it, was gone. In its place stood a cave of dazzling white, shot through with sliver and gold and hung with icicles so real looking they actually appeared to drip. On the floor and this time designed to be disturbed, inches of soft, white flakes span and danced as they walked, whilst around the edges of the room stood the more solid drifts of snow. At one end, an open, log fireplace, flickering with artificial ‘flames’ devoured a small pile of Yule logs scented with apple wood, whilst candles powered by electricity and dotted around the room, provided the only other light.

  “You like, Miss.Shilling?”Claude asked as she minced from one feature to another. “I ‘ave your approval?”

  “Oh, yes.”Carrie beamed. “You have my approval alright. It’s wonderful! I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  Claude bowed low at the waist. “I am pleased you are pleased. That is all the thanks I need. But now I must make my farewells and re-join my delightful team. I see you at the party tomorrow, yes?”

  “Oh, yes.”Carrie replied and still glowing with delight, walked him to the door where his ‘team’ were already assembled in the hallway. Thanking them profusely, Carrie then turned back to Claude.

  “I really can’t thank you enough.”She said, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done. It’s magnificent! Thank you so much… Steven.”

  For a moment, Claude simply gaped at her. Then he laughed and in a thick, Liverpudlian accent, said. “That’s alright my love, anytime.”

  Brian Holding left soon afterwards, still shaking his head in disbelief, still wondering what his men were going to make of it all and still sure he had everything covered. He would, he said, be back tomorrow before ten.

  But if Carrie Shilling’s winter wonderland was artificial, the one Isobel Pearce stepped into was far from fake.

  Cold and blustery, she huddled into her coat and thought of the children’s home where someone had once told her that the wind was not only strong enough to blow the cobwebs away, but the rafters they were clinging to as well, and buffeted from all sides, Isobel was inclined to agree with them as she pulled up the collar of her coat and stuffed her hands deep inside her pockets, scowling at the weather as she made for home.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The kitchen felt cold. But at six thirty in the morning it was only to be expected, as filling the kettle at the sink, Amanda gazed out onto the frost covered garden and mentally ran through her itinerary for the day.

  Keeping out of the way seemed to be top of the agenda and although she didn’t particularly want to get involved with caterers and waitress and great, big blokes who looked like they might kill small children for fun, it still would have been nice if she’d had something to do other than just loose herself.

  The kettle on, Amanda wiped her hands on a tea towel and sat with her back against the rapidly warming radiator, trying not to feel too despondent. She knew the extra people scheduled in for today were only there because of the party, and with such a mountain of food to prepare and lay out nicely, it was only sensible that Carrie should organize additional hands to do the job, but it still made her feel unwanted.

  There again, she could be grumbling about nothing. It might be fun to watch all the goings-on without actually having to get her hands dirty or clean up afterwards and she could always catch up on her reading and finally get to grips with that Joanne Trollop novel that had been gathering dust for goodness knows how long.

  But in her heart of hearts Amanda knew it wasn’t going to be the same and feeling despondant she turned back to the duties she did have lined up for that morning and spooned coffee grounds into the filter.

  Carmichael would be here soon, she thought, no doubt sniffing round the coffee pot like he usually did, and there was still Carrie and Andrea’s breakfast to prepare.

  Not that she was expecting to hear from them anytime soon. Carrie would want to get as much rest as possible before the party and if they had any sense they’d stay in bed a while longer and make the most of it.

  Smiling, she poured water into the percolator and thought how lovely it was that Carrie had finally found someone to care for. Andrea was a lovely girl and she obviously cared about Carrie. It was just a pity the press didn’t feel able to give them any peace, with their constant questions and photographs … still, they seemed to be managing alright so far and if things did take a turn for the worse, they could always set Carmichael on them.

  Talking of which..

  A quick glance at the clock told her she still had another forty minutes to go before the world went mad and Carmichael arrived to drain the world’s reso
urces of Arribica, which was fine with her. She still had plenty of time to finish her breakfast in peace.

  Muttering blasphemous curses, Isobel fumbled for the alarm clock and shut it off, feeling the beginnings of a headache creep across her brow as she sat up and rubbed at her eyes.

  “Wonderful!”She muttered to herself. “That’s all I bloody need.”And flinging back the covers she allowed the chill air to rush in and claim the last of the remaining warmth before she could be tempted to crawl back into bed.

  Not that another five minutes wouldn’t have been lovely, but she simply couldn’t risk it. If she was late and all her carefully laid out plans came to nothing, she’d never forgive herself and shrugging on her bath robe, she plodded into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stuck her hand under the freezing spray.

  This, she shuddered, was going to be bad. Having to shower at all was bad enough but having to shower in the morning was too bloody much! The shock was probably going to kill her if this fuckin’ headache didn’t get her first.

  But today she needed to look immaculate. Not only for the party, but for the multitude of press she expected to be there. Because no matter how hard she tried to stay out of the way, there was still the chance she might appear on some of the footage destined to be shown on the news, and there was no way she wanted her boss to spot her flaunting at a party when she was supposed to have some horrible disease. She’d get the bloody sack for sure. Hence the need to change her personal hygiene habits.

  Though, to be fair, it had really started yesterday when she’d had her hair cut into this new shorter and funkier looking style. She liked it. It made her look more sophisticated, and with the make-up tips she’d gleaned from a month old magazine at the hairdressers, she doubted whether her own mother would recognize her. If she’d still been alive to see her.

  The water in the shower finally ran warm and gritting her teeth, Isobel shrugged of her bathrobe and climbed in, relieved when her heart didn’t automatically stop beating and when the pounding in her head finally appeared to ease off.

  Humming a tune she began to soap herself. .

  Breathing in the warm aroma of skin, Andrea kissed Carrie’s shoulder and then gently shook it. “Hey sleepy head.”She said softly. “Time to get up.”

  Carrie opened a sleepy eye. “Wha..?”She mumbled. “What time is it?”

  “A little after seven. And I know it’s early but you said you wanted plenty of time in which to wake up.”

  “In that case I’m waking up in another hour.”And grabbing the duvet, Carrie went back to sleep.

  Dressed in jeans and sweatshirt Isobel selected the make-up she intended to take with her and added it to the holdall with her uniform. Then, straightening out the duvet, she sat on the bed and wondered what on earth had possessed her to get up so early?

  It was still only eight o’clock and she wasn’t due up at the house until eleven, so why?

  Then she remembered.

  It was Rita’s fault.

  The silly bitch had supplied her with the uniform and instructions right enough, but what she hadn’t given her was any form of ID and it was that which had kept her up half the night, worrying, because it stood to reason that she’d need something to validate her presence, otherwise what was preventing anyone who fancied gatecrashing the party from simply dressing up as a waitress and walking in?

  Nothing! Hence the ridiculously early wake up call.

  She wanted to be at that newsagents the moment Mrs.McKenzie opened the door.

  Pausing at the foot of the stairs, Carmichael cocked an ear and listened.

  A faint giggle drifted down the staircase and smiling, he took a firmer hold of the tray he was carrying and began to climb. Pleased the girls were awake and glad they would be able to enjoy the coffee whilst it was still warm.

  Getting it to them was proving tricky though and trying not to become hopelessly tangled in tinsel, Carmichael peered awkwardly around the side of the tray and carefully picked his way to the top, pausing, once he got there, to gaze behind him at Claude’s mighty winter creation. It was beautiful, there was no two ways about it. It was just a pity it was a bloody nightmare to walk through. Twice he’d nearly tripped over and tipped coffee everywhere, and he shuddered to think what Claude would have said if he’d come in to find his beloved snow streaked with a dirty, great, brown stain.

  Still, he was at the top now.

  Another giggle like warm butter, drifted along the hallway and Carmichael felt a stab of pain lance through his heart. He was still so torn over his feelings for Carrie. Unsure whether to feel delighted that she was so happy or devastated that it wasn’t him she was happy with, because despite their professional relationship he’d always hoped that one day they might transcend beyond that and end up together. But it wasn’t going to happen now. Carrie was with Andrea and that was that.

  But it would have been nice. It would have been so very nice.

  A groan issued from Carrie’s bedroom and almost dropping the tray Carmichael froze to the spot. His mouth suddenly dry as a bone as the groan came again and his eyes widened.

  Holy fuck! He thought, gripping the tray so tightly his knuckles shone white. They’re screwing in there! What the hell do I do? Go back downstairs, or knock loudly and wait?

  Carefully setting the tray on the floor, Carmichael got down on his hands and knees and crawled closer, not entirely sure what the hell he thought he was doing. He knew it was Carrie and Andrea in there! He knew that, he knew it! But he couldn’t stop himself. He wanted to see! He wanted to watch!

  Get off your knees you sick bastard!

  Shaking himself, Carmichael paused and half rose to his feet, fully intending to grab the tray and scuttle back downstairs before he could do any real damage, but then another soft moan issued from the bedroom and his resolve weakened.

  Trembling, he shut his eyes. This was insane! He couldn’t watch! He couldn’t! But bloody hell, he wanted to! He really, really did and balling his hands into fists, Carmichael drove his nails into his palms and prayed the pain would be sufficient to drive the temptation away. But it wasn’t and feeling sick and low and knowing that what he was about to do was just plain disgusting, he opened his eyes and crawled closer.

  They were naked on top of the bed. Carrie and Andrea. Kissing.

  Andrea close to coming as Carrie fed a slender vibrator between her legs, the controls set to a gentle buzz as it slid in and out of Andrea’s cunt. Producing soft, wet sounds from her pussy, together with fragrant juices which Carrie used the fingers of her other hand to scoop up and bring to her own lips where she licked her fingers clean.

  The vibrator buzzed louder and Andrea gasped, her legs spreading even wider as her hips rose from the bed and Carmichael saw a perfect view of glistening pussy lips, together with Andrea’s hand, reaching down and covering Carrie’s to force the tube of plastic even deeper inside.

  Turned on to the point of orgasm herself, Carrie slid the control button all the way to the top, holding on as the strong vibrations rippled through Andrea’s cunt. Her breathing no more than ragged gasps as Carrie’s other hand trailed up the sleek wetness of her pussy and started to rub her clit, before, in an extrodinary feat of suppleness, at far as Carmichael was concerned, Carrie bent at the waist and took Andrea’s left nipple in her mouth. Sucking and tugging at the hardened nub whilst Andrea gasped and moaned and finally, unable to hold on any longer, came in a rush of pussy juices. Her hips rising from the bed and her insides gripping the vibrator tighter and tighter as Carrie thrust it in one last time and Andrea came again.

  Outside the door, Carmichael could hardly stand it himself and clutching his balls, he moaned into the carpet. Feeling his cock strain painfully against his zipper as he fought with the desire to just rush in there and screw the pair of them.

  Still breathing hard, they kissed and touched and caressed, driv
ing Carmichael’s blood pressure though the roof! Then swapping places with Carrie, Andrea ran her hands up and down Carrie’s body. Leaving light traces on her skin and softly following the trail of her fingers with light kisses until she reached her breasts. Then, nuzzling against them she playfully flicked her nipples with her tongue, whilst the fingers of her right hand stroked down and down until finally, arriving at her fluff, they gently parted Carrie’s pussy lips with practiced ease and slid inside. Wrapping themselves in warm, wet velvet as they slowly began to fuck. The strokes long and slow to begin with, allowing Carrie to feel every thrust before gradually increasing in pace and then slowing down again. Her eyes fixed on Carrie’s face, watching her pleasure, watching her lips gently part to expose the line of her teeth. Her breath coming in measured gasps to match the thrust as Andrea again lowered her mouth to her nipple and sucked and licked. Savouring the taste of her breast. Hearing Carrie moan and gasp as a pink, rosy glow began to spread across her chest and neck and her pussy throbbed around her fingers, begging with her to thrust harder and faster. Harder, harder! Until finally she came. Clawing the bed, crying Andrea’s name. Her climax so wild and violent that it wrenched Andrea’s mouth away from her nipple and she could do nothing but fuck the last ounce of pleasure from Carrie’s cunt.

  Convinced he was nearing heart failure, Carmichael scuttled backwards and climbed unsteadily to his feet. Then, stumbling clumsily into the nearest bathroom he slumped against the wall and completed what had to be the fastest wank in living memory.

  That, he told himself, wiping sweat from his brow, had been fucking sensational! So erotic! So sensual and nothing like the fake lesbian sex he’d witnessed in the past. Christ! No wonder girl, girl sex was becoming ever popular if that’s what they got up to?

  Then he remembered the coffee, still sitting on the tray outside the bedroom door and seized with the awful certainty that one of them would come out, find it there and know that someone had been watching them, he scrambled to his feet and hurried across the hallway, praying the coffee would still be warm.