It was drizzling and, of course, I wasn't inside in the warm looking out, I was walking along the riverbank with Erik, the stiff breeze finding every chink in the cape I had wrapped about me and my eyelashes doing creditable impressions of eucalyptus leaves in a monsoon. I looked round and upwards at the shimmering features of my Viking consort, but if he found this awful weather depressing, he was made of sterner stuff and wasn't about to show it any more than he was given to showing any other sort of emotion. A man whose forebears managed to discover America - and show the strength of will not to tell anyone in Europe when they got back - by braving the Atlantic in a ship not much bigger than a Ford Transit with the roof cut off, was hardly going to be put out by plain ordinary English autumnal weather.
'Going well it is with Molly?' he asked.
I nodded and a large drip of water flew off the tip of my nose. 'Very well,' I confirmed. I hoped now that things would be progressing equally as well with Milly, who was next in the queue. I had met Erik and the two girls just outside the mill house and despatched the unsuspecting girl inside, into the clutches of the waiting Indira and a newly polished version of Molly, who I was confident would be only too eager to play a part in imparting some of her recently acquired experience to her colleague. Mandy, meanwhile, had been despatched to fetch milk from the farmhouse that was halfway between where we now lived and the town itself.
'I should congratulate you on your choices,' I said as we halted before a stile. 'If the other two respond as well as Molly, we'll be able to say we're ready for business by the end of the week.'
'Yourself, you will not the same be doing?'
I peered cautiously at Erik. His features were as impassive as ever, but I sensed something behind his question.
'The same not be doing as what?' I replied carefully, determined to draw him out a little further.
He swallowed, perhaps nervously. 'As the girls,' he replied levelly. 'Not the thing that these people paying for will be,' he added, the closest he was going to come to clarification, I realised.
So that was it, protective or jealous, or maybe a combination of the two. I smiled and turned my head away, fixing my stare ahead as I carefully climbed atop the stile. 'No,' I said firmly, 'most certainly not. I have a different role to play, as I thought you would realise.'
He made no reply, but reached up to steady my elbow as I climbed down onto the wet grass.
'I have to create a character that will provide an aura of mystery and intrigue,' I elaborated, 'Madame X.'
'Madam X?'
I grinned, but was careful not to let him see. 'Well, maybe not Madame X exactly, but something along those lines. I have to make sure no one can possibly recognise or even describe me, for a start, which is why I've used that veil for our initial interviews. It's almost as good as a mask.' Though it doesn't seem to have quite the same effect on me personally, I thought.
'What I need,' I continued as Erik jumped over the stile to land alongside me, 'is some sort of alias, a different name, and to establish a reputation, at least among our own little circle of clients, of being a strict, authoritarian sort of person, if you get what I mean.'
'Like Miss Crowthorne?' Erik nodded.
I cleared my throat. 'Well, something like that,' I said. 'Maybe not quite such a nutter, though.'
'A nutter?' Erik raised his eyebrows. 'This something to do with trees is not, I am guessing?'
I tapped one forefinger against my temple. 'No, nothing to do with trees,' I agreed, mirroring his look. 'Nutter means mad, screw-loose, bonkers, not quite the full—'
'Krona?' Erik suggested. 'Ah, knowing what the driving is I now am.'
'So, first I need a name.'
'The name you have using been is wrong? No good?' He was referring to the name of Mrs MacIntosh, under which I had bought the house and conducted my business since our original escape. And as far as the prospective clients I had seen so far were concerned, they had been politely but firmly instructed to address me as Mrs Smith, at least until they were contacted again. I hadn't even confirmed to them I would be the final person they dealt with, suggesting merely that I was a go-between who could assist them in their quest to add flesh, or more flesh, I should say, to their particular fantasies.
'That name's all right as far as the official side of things goes,' I conceded, 'but I need a stage name, that's what I need.'
'A stage name?'
'You know, like actors and actresses have, a name to perform under.'
Erik looked at me blankly and I saw he had no idea what I was talking about. He obviously thought the thespian brigade used the names they were born with, so I quickly explained. He caught on quickly.
'Countess, you must be a countess,' he said.
I liked the sound of that. After all, there were tens of thousands of counts and countesses strewn across Europe, more so in those days even than now, when Italy and France especially have more than a share of them. 'Yes,' I said, 'a countess. How about Contessa di Ventura?' In my own time there had recently been a lot of advertising publicity concerning a car of that name and it seemed to roll off the tongue with just the right ring to it. Erik appeared to like it and so the Contessa Sadie Christa di Ventura was born. I'll leave you to work out how I settled on those particular names.
'I hate this rain,' I declared, by way of keeping the conversation going on a lighter note.
Erik gazed up at the leaden skies. 'Yes, and for a good time set now it is,' he announced.
'Like the next hundred and fifty years,' I quipped, forgetting in the way of most English people that we do actually have a dry summer period. 'Perhaps we should turn back?'
'There is shelter just up ahead,' Erik said, pointing along the path. 'An old barn used now not much, I think.'
'You've been exploring,' I said. 'Been having some nice walks with the girls, have you?' For the first time, at least I think it was the first time, Erik blushed. 'Ah, but I think that's nice, showing the poor city girls the beauty of the countryside, and other things,' I added wickedly.
His cheeks went two shades of red deeper. 'Go back then we ought,' he said, halting.
I shook my head. 'Oh no we don't.' I jabbed my finger forward in the direction he had just indicated. 'This girl wants to see the beauty of the countryside, and other things too.' I glanced down at the small satchel he carried slung from a rawhide shoulder strap. 'Do you have the things I told you to keep in there?'
Erik seemed taken aback, but quickly recovered. 'Yes, I do,' he replied, 'but needing them I have not been.'
'No, you wouldn't, not with Milly Molly Mandy, anyway. Cast off knickers fore and aft at the first murmurings from the cockpit, that trio. No, don't look so worried, Erik, you've only been doing what I told you to do. Got to keep the troops exercised, after all.'
I think it was at about this point that my Viking hero began to hear the tinkle-tinkle of the Krona dropping somewhere close by. Well, who in her right mind would go trudging along a draughty riverbank in crappy English autumn weather just for the hell of it, eh? And I knew precisely where that old barn was, having found it myself whilst out for a walk a few weeks earlier on a much more pleasant day, I might add. Or had that been Angelina? Never mind, whichever of us had been at the helm for the discovery, it was obviously etched clearly on our joint navigational charts.
It certainly didn't look as though it was getting much use nowadays, I saw as we approached it after rounding the bend in the river, for the sides were overgrown and one of the huge front doors was hanging by one hinge, and only just hanging by it at that, but the roof seemed largely intact and there were no glass windows to have broken over the years. Come to think of it, there probably weren't any vandals about to chuck stones through them had there been any, I mused as we trudged forward through grass, that was now above knee-high and adding to my soaked-to-the-skin factor by a multiple of two.
Inside the barn were the remains of what had once been three or four bales of straw, though weeds had encroac
hed over nearly half the ground floor area now. I peered through the half-light and saw that someone - no prizes for guessing who - had heaped some of the straw in a far corner and draped what looked like sacking over it to form a rough bed. A very rough bed.
I tossed back the hood of my cape and began scrabbling at the ties that held it about my neck, letting the sodden cloth drop to the ground before, as an afterthought, scooping it up again and draping it over one of the misshapen bales. I ran my fingers through the hair of my wig, surprised to discover that apart from the fringe bit at the front it was near enough dry, and that even the lacy headdress I used for keeping the wig in place was only damp at the front. I turned to Erik, who had taken off his satchel and was now draping his own cape over a broken cartwheel that lay against one of the uprights supporting what had once been a raised area for storing loose hay.
'This is a bit better,' I said, looking around further, my eyes slowly growing accustomed to the shadows and picking out a handcart abandoned against the further wall, two pitchforks, one broken, a large rake and a stack of assorted timber lengths standing upright in one corner. 'I wonder who owns it?'
'Oh, you do,' Erik replied quite nonchalantly.
I blinked. 'I do?'
He nodded. 'Checking the titles I have been and all land from the house to here, belonging to the mill it was and still is.'
'But I only bought the house,' I said. The mill itself had been disused for so long there was hardly anything left worth talking about, and I'd assumed I'd just agreed on a price for the residential part. Apparently, I'd been wrong.
Erik shook his head. 'No, buying the mill and all its grounds you were,' he said. 'A chart there is with all the papers.' He grinned proudly. 'Charts I am knowing about,' he said.
I looked around the barn with fresh eyes, my brain slipping up two gears. 'Bloody Norah!' I exclaimed. 'This must be nearly half a mile from the house and you mean to tell me I own all that ground?' Mind you, it was probably only a narrow strip of ground, I realised, and Erik confirmed this when I asked him. However, he also confirmed that my narrow strip ran for another half mile upstream. My mind went back to that day in the solicitors' office in Chichester. This was the second time in my life I'd discovered I'd become a landowner... well, the first, if we're going by the standard calendar and not chronological events as experienced by me personally, of course.
It then occurred to me that this thought was quite possibly erroneous anyway. The whole motivation for Hacklebury's machinations was for him to get his claws into Angelina's fortunes, and the likelihood was that Angelina's wealth comprised land as well as hard cash, and I suddenly realised that I had absolutely no idea exactly how wealthy she was. There had to be more than the estate Amelia bequeathed to me, handy as that was, but just how much more and what had subsequently become of that wealth was a mystery, and likely to remain so, at least for the foreseeable future, I told myself, and instantly dismissed the thought. For the present, there were more urgent matters to attend to.
I turned to Erik. 'Strip,' I ordered, and he looked just a bit taken aback. 'Go on,' I said, 'you heard me. Take them off, the clothes, all of them.'
He opened his mouth to say something, but one look at my expression was enough to silence him. Slowly, he bent over and began removing his right boot.
'Everything,' I said, though very softly now, as he hesitated at the shirt only stage. Carefully, he reached down and began drawing the garment over his head, letting it drop to the straw beside him so he stood before me completely naked.
I stepped forward and reached out one hand to cup his manhood, which, to his everlasting credit, had remained flaccid and apparently unimpressed. However, my first touch was too much even for Erik's will, and I felt the beast begin to stir in my fingers. I looked up and smiled into his eyes. 'Up, Rover,' I whispered. 'Let's give the bone a dog, shall we?' Of course, he didn't understand what I was saying as such, but he most certainly had the gist of it. The thick shaft quickly grew thicker still, rising steadily until it stood proudly upright in my small hand. I stroked the length and then cupped his full balls with my other hand. 'Is this nice?' I whispered.
He grunted confirmation and I began working his length, drawing his foreskin back to reveal the shiny purplish knob that would soon be leading the charge into me. Quickly I stooped, opened my lips and drew it into my mouth, flicking my tongue wickedly back and forth and drawing a shiver from my towering partner. And then I stopped, stepped back and began taking my own clothes off, barely able to restrain myself from tearing them off in undignified haste. With an effort I managed to control myself and laid my gown, its lower skirt sodden from the rain, over a small heap of straw that had probably once been another bale. I stood in my shift, my corset, stockings and boots and held out my hand.
'Knife,' I rasped. 'Give me your knife.' He passed it to me, and without ceremony I used the razor-sharp blade to hack away the skirts of my shift from just below the hem of my corset, revealing stocking tops and garters and the fact that I wore no under-drawers. With great deliberation, I reached under my chin and pulled apart the ribbon that held the lace kerchief over my head, tossed it aside, and then slowly lifted my wig clear, placing it on top of my discarded gown. All the while, although I did not look at Erik once, I knew he was watching me intently and I could almost feel his eyes burning into my flesh. At last I looked up and took three steps towards him.
'Get the bag,' I whispered, and as he stooped to retrieve it, I slowly turned my back on him, crossing my wrists behind me in an unmistakeable gesture of submission. A moment later I felt the narrow leather strap being wound about them, securing my arms where I held them. I drew in a deep breath, my breasts rising so that my nipples rose above the top of the corset. Then, as I slowly exhaled, Erik began turning me back to face him.
'What you want, this is it, true?' he asked gently.
I swallowed and nodded, leaning closer towards him as if to emphasise my confirmation. Deep within me I could feel the fires beginning to fan themselves into life, the distant heat rising rapidly to become a furnace. I could feel my own hot stickiness and knew that any moment now it would be leaking onto my thighs, betraying me further, if that were possible. Bitch in heat, I thought idly. Me or you to blame, Angelina? I thought I knew the answer to that one, but it hardly mattered. 'Finish it properly,' I whispered.
Erik blinked twice.
I closed my eyes. 'The mask, you great ox,' I urged. 'Do it as you did those times before, for pity's sake.'
And then he was pulling the soft leather over my head, adjusting the eye and mouth openings, tightening the laces at the back until the kid hood hugged my skull like another layer of skin. I peered out at him, faceless now and ready for my surrender, a helpless slave in the hands of her powerful master. I felt tiny, powerless, but more than that, I felt liberated, as if I were now someone else and the destiny of this anonymous person was beyond not only my control, but hers also. Without a word I slipped down to my knees, craning my neck, my tongue flickering out through the slit in the leather, sliding wetly up and down his entire length. Then the throbbing shaft was inside my mouth and I was drawing it deeper and deeper, until I was all but choking on it.
I felt hands on the sides of my head, first encouraging and then restraining, as Erik pulled himself from me. I was drawn to my feet, lifted, my thighs spread wide as I was held above his fleshy spear.
'Oh yes!' I heard myself gasp, and I threw my legs about his waist as he cupped his huge hands under my taut buttocks, steadying me as I sat helpless on my human throne. I felt the heat pressing against my entrance and I wriggled slightly, groaning in pleasure as warm flesh caressed moist flesh, and then he was entering me, pushing me apart as he lowered me down, until finally I was little more than a mounted specimen of desire.
'Bastard!' I hissed, my lips searching in vain for his and finding only his thick neck. 'Oh you great, awful, beautiful bastard!' I looked up through misted eyes and saw he was watching my face intently, an
expression somewhere between awe and bewilderment floating across his features. 'What are you waiting for?' I managed to gasp. 'I can't do anything like this, can I?' I couldn't prevent a high-pitched snigger from escaping my lips. 'Look at me,' I giggled, contracting my inner muscles so a spasm of icy heat shot up my spine, 'just look at me, the grand lady, all stuffed and mounted like a prize specimen.' I bit into my lip so hard I tasted blood, and groaned again as Erik lifted me slightly, and then let me back down again, the movement of his impossible shaft within me making every nerve-ending turn a triple backward somersault.
'Quiet now,' he said so calmly that I could not believe it. 'Quiet now you will be, for Erik is in the charge, is he not?'
I nodded dumbly and let out a long sigh. 'Yes,' I breathed, 'Erik is in the charge...'
Our reappearance back into the main crypt area was greeted with a mixture of applause, cheering, disbelieving gasps and shrieks, and one huge fellow's raucous laughter all but drowned out everything else. I peered across the heads to where he was standing, close to the wall on the left, and immediately I thought of Erik. For whoever this was, face hidden behind a glossy black leather mask, muscles bulging beneath a short-sleeved T-shirt of the same, was a giant of a man, taller even than I was despite my extreme footwear, a man who not so much stood out in a crowd, but who stood out above a crowd, and I was certain he had only arrived while we were being dolled up. I knew I would have noticed him had he been there earlier, and I had not.
My stomach did one of its peculiar gymnastic feats and I looked away, casting my eyes downwards as we were ushered centre stage, but I could feel his eyes upon me, yes, me, of that I was sure, for something told me I was going to end up with him in much the same way I had ended up with Erik, though where my Angelina self had appealed by her very lack of stature, the figure I now cut had an appeal for all the opposite reasons. With my natural height emphasised by several inches of platform sole and spiked heel, and my breasts hidden beneath a pair of much more prominent, albeit artificial ones, I knew I represented quite a striking trophy as surely as I somehow knew this Hercules was going to make sure he was the one who ultimately lifted me.
Teena: A House of Ill Repute Page 14
