When he did, he grabbed my hair and pulled it tight, keeping his cock deep until the last drops spattered out.
I was still sucking on that softening shaft when the conservatory door opened and Maria’s voice floated through.
‘I wondered if you were ready for pudding…oh, do excuse me.’
I shut my eyes in anguish, knowing that Maria would be seeing my red bottom and thighs, my rucked, wet knickers and my head bowed over this stranger’s lap. What on earth must she think of me?
‘No worries,’ said Keane, although the words came out with some effort. ‘I think…Ellie’s full, actually.’
Maria laughed softly.
‘Perhaps we’ll just go to bed,’ he continued, and I popped off his cock, my eyes wide and round. I was spending the night here?
‘Well, you know where the room is,’ said Maria. ‘Ellie, there’s a spare toothbrush and toiletries in the en suite. Nighty night.’
She withdrew and I tried to struggle to my feet, but Keane put a hand on my shoulder, forcing me back down to my knees.
‘Woah there,’ he said, sounding amused. ‘What’s the panic?’
‘I wasn’t expecting to stay the night,’ I said.
‘It’s not a problem, is it? We need to get to know each other – as intimately as possible – before the contract is drawn up. Spending the night together is the ideal opportunity.’
‘I’ve got work in the morning.’
‘So have I. I’ll drop you home on my way in. I need to be in the office for seven tomorrow. Come on. Are you going to come upstairs with me or do I need to carry you there?’
He could, too.
‘Let’s take the rest of the champagne,’ I suggested, grabbing a half-empty bottle of fizz from the table.
‘Good idea.’
In vino veritas. Or so I hoped.
He followed me up the stairs, his hulking presence overshadowing me all the way to the landing.
‘I feel like a bad guest,’ I said, as we entered the pristine shades-of-oatmeal bedroom.
‘Why?’
‘Just leaving Maria and Martin to it down there. Not eating her pudding.’
‘Nobody ever gets round to pudding at her parties,’ said Keane with a laugh. He sat down on the crisp white bed and smacked his big hand down on the duvet. ‘Come here. Give us those glasses.’
‘How long have you known her?’ I asked, watching him pour us a glass of champagne each.
‘Maria? Donkey’s years. We’re the same age, though you’d never know it. She looks years younger.’
‘So do you,’ I said, because it was true.
‘Ah, thanks,’ he said. ‘Must be the effect of spanking all those bottoms. Kind of a fountain of youth thing.’
‘Maybe. So…did she get you into it?’
‘This lifestyle? No, not really. We met through mutual friends. She throws the best parties, and I started getting regular invitations. But I don’t go to too many. I keep things low-key, if I can.’
‘Because of your job?’
‘Yes,’ he said, after a sip of bubbles. ‘Because of my job.’
‘So…what do you do? If you don’t mind me asking.’
‘A damn sight too much,’ he growled. ‘For all the thanks I get.’
I waited for him to elaborate. He drained the champagne and poured another glass.
‘Just between you and me, kitten, I’m a big name in local politics. Hoping to get a national platform at the next election.’
‘Oh, a politician,’ I said. ‘I’m not really into politics.’
‘Well, you should be,’ he said. ‘It’s important. But if you stick with me, perhaps you won’t need to care about it. You can leave all that to me.’
‘Is it fun?’ I asked.
‘Fun? I wouldn’t call it that exactly – but I do enjoy it. The cut and thrust.’
‘Are you very powerful?’ I batted my eyelashes.
This was a good tack to take. He didn’t exactly puff out his chest, but his pretend-modest laugh was a good substitute.
‘Er, actually, not wanting to big myself up too much, yes, I am.’
‘Ooh,’ I said, putting a hand on his arm, smoothing down his shirtsleeve. ‘What kind of powers do you have? Superpowers?’
Again, the not-really-modest laugh.
‘Well, I can’t fly. Not yet.’
‘But one day?’ I giggled, wondering how long I’d been harbouring this inner simpering fool.
‘Maybe. But no, seriously, I do have a lot of power in this city. Anyone who wants anything done knows I’m the man to come to. If I say it’s going to happen, it happens.’
‘Well, if the other council members vote for it,’ I demurred.
‘Oh, I’ve got them well in hand. Don’t worry.’
‘You’ve got them in hand? You mean, you dom the city council too?’
Now his laugh was genuine. ‘Well, maybe something like that,’ he said. ‘Though I don’t put them over my knee. Perhaps metaphorically. No, I’ve got my ways of making sure the vote goes the way I want it. Every business leader in this town wants me as their best friend. If I like them, the contract’s theirs.’
‘Really? You can make that decision alone?’
‘Oh, yes. If you came up to me tomorrow and said you wanted the contract for catering in the city’s care homes, I’d make sure you got it. As long as I was still happy with you, of course. In your case, I’d expect a bit of a reciprocal arrangement.’
He winked, but my breath was too high in my chest for me to respond flirtatiously.
‘Just in my case?’ I whispered.
He frowned, taking a warning from my body language.
‘I don’t have sexual relations with all my contractors, Ellie,’ he said sternly. ‘Like I said, they’re mostly friends.’
‘But are they friends with benefits?’ I asked, unable to stop myself now, even though this line of questioning seemed to be annoying him.
‘What is this? Are you jealous? It’s business, that’s all.’
‘Funny way to do business,’ I said. ‘I mean, what if your friends turn out to be rubbish?’
He stared at me, and I wondered if he could sense the dawning of my fight-or-flight response.
I knew I should probably be more subtle. But if I was too subtle, I might end up having to shag him and, good-looking as he was, I didn’t especially want that on my conscience. Perhaps I wasn’t cut out for espionage after all.
‘For someone who isn’t into politics, you seem to have some strong opinions there, Ellie,’ he said, his voice dangerously quiet.
‘Oh, no, I don’t mean anything by it,’ I said. ‘I’m just trying to understand what you’re saying.’
‘What I’m saying,’ he said, ‘is that I’m a powerful man, and you ought to make sure you respect that.’
‘Oh, I do,’ I rushed to assure him, cowed into abandoning this tack. ‘I respect you a lot. It’s good that you’re powerful. I bet your friends are really good people.’
‘They are,’ he said, sounding mollified, though his eyes hadn’t lost their suspicious intensity. ‘The great and good. Landowners, lawyers, pressmen.’
Pressmen? He must have meant Ed.
‘It must be good to have the papers on side,’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I get a lot of support from the Clarion. Course, I know a thing or two about its editor.’ He tapped the side of his nose.
Resisting the urge to shriek, ‘Oh my God, seriously? What?’, I merely nodded and offered him more champagne.
‘But I’d better not spill the beans,’ he said, disappointingly. ‘You might find out for yourself some time anyway.’
‘Is he…?’
Keane’s lip quirked upwards. ‘One of us?’ he said. ‘I couldn’t possibly comment.’
‘Spoken like a true politician.’
‘Thanks. But that’s enough of politics, young lady.’ He put down his glass and took mine from my hand too before returning his full atten
tion to me.
‘Oh?’ I fluttered with nerves. I wasn’t ready to get down and dirty with him. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.
‘Yes,’ he said, lifting my chin so he could capture me in a claim-staking kiss. ‘We’ve got business of our own, haven’t we?’
‘I’m…I’m really nervous,’ I said, needing to stall him before he got my clothes all the way off.
‘That’s understandable,’ he murmured, his fingers in my hair, tracing soothing circles at my temples. ‘But you needn’t be. I’m a good dom and a good lover. You’re in the best hands.’
‘I know,’ I said quickly. ‘That’s why I’m nervous.’
He frowned and kissed me again.
‘Doesn’t make sense, kitten.’
‘It’s because you’re so experienced and you’ve had loads of really experienced subs. I’m worried I’ll disappoint you.’
His eyes crinkled with delight. ‘Oh, that’s so sweet,’ he said, pinching my cheeks. ‘But you don’t have to worry. Inexperience is what I’ve been craving. It’s what I want.’
‘What was your last sub like?’
‘I don’t want to talk about her.’
The message was clear, reinforced by another long and searching kiss, during which he managed to get his huge hands on my breasts. It was time to resign myself to the knowledge that I wasn’t going to get the full career-damning facts in the space of one night. This would have to be a longer-term project, if it was going to happen at all. And a longer-term project would certainly involve sex. But getting in too deep with Keane was a prospect that genuinely frightened me. I could well imagine that he wasn’t a man to cross. Danger signals flashed in my brain, while desire flashed elsewhere.
He had me on my back, his big, broad figure shadowing mine, twice the size of me, when we were disturbed by the ringing of the doorbell, several times in succession.
I had to assume Maria was heavily engaged with Martin, because there was no rush of footsteps to answer it. All the same, it made Keane kneel up, panting and dishevelled, while I tried to twist away from beneath him.
‘It’s not for you to answer,’ he said, pinning me firmly back into position. ‘Leave it. It’s probably nothing.’
‘Might…not…be,’ I gasped, in between progressively angrier kisses.
The bell rang again, a volley like before, then a forlorn single tone.
My eagerness to answer it had a lot to do with who I thought it might be.
‘Please…let me get it…’
‘You’re down to your underwear,’ objected Keane. ‘Don’t be stupid. Now get back here or I’ll have to punish you.’
I’d made my escape, though, and I scurried for the door, only for Keane to get there in two strides and stand blocking the way.
‘Get your knickers down and bend over the bed,’ he snarled, and it was no longer the playful scenario we’d performed downstairs. He really meant to show me who was boss. ‘That’s what you’re aiming for, isn’t it?’
I shook my head, backing away. I heard the sound of somebody rapping hard on glass, directly beneath us, and ran to open the window. There was Tom, peering into the empty conservatory, the glow from its candlelit table flickering shadows over his gorgeous face. More than anything, I wanted to call down to him but Keane shoved me out of the way and let out a bellow of rage.
‘Unbe-fucking-lievable!’ he yelled. ‘Just you wait there. I’ve had enough of this. I’m coming down.’
‘What? What?’ I asked feverishly, following him as he hurtled out of the bedroom.
‘Maria! Call the police. You’ve got my stalker on the premises,’ shouted Keane, taking the stairs several at a time. ‘Maria!’
She still hadn’t materialised by the time Keane wrenched open the door and made his bullish way into the garden.
By the time I joined him, Keane and Tom were squaring up, both with their chins raised and shoulders back, like stags preparing to clash horns.
‘Oh, God, don’t fight,’ I blurted.
They both switched their gazes to me. Tom winced as if in pain. Keane waved a dismissive hand.
‘Stay out of it, kitten,’ he said. ‘You don’t know what this bastard’s put me through. On at me and on at me and on at me, night and day. He’s had it coming.’
‘You can’t get mixed up with him,’ said Tom urgently, to me. ‘Get out of here now. Get your coat and your bag and get a cab home.’ He raised his voice, gesturing dramatically at the front gate. ‘Go!’
By now, Maria – in a dressing gown – and Martin – butt naked apart from the collar and leash – had appeared, pale and shocked in the rectangular light cast by the open front door.
‘Tom,’ said Maria. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘You mean you know him?’ cried Keane, wheeling to face her with wide-eyed shock.
‘He’s a new boy on the scene,’ she said. ‘Came to the last munch. Tom, why are you here?’
Keane was really rattled now. He turned back to Tom, his face a horrible grey.
‘You mean you’ve even dug this far down? You’d even sink this low? My private life is private, you fucking sewer rat. I’ll break your fucking neck.’
With a roar, he leapt upon Tom, felling him so that they both thudded on to the lawn and lay there, locked in a deadly struggle, Keane’s hands aiming for Tom’s throat.
‘No!’ I screamed, but they didn’t seem to have heard me.
Maria started and disappeared back into the house, leaving Martin and me to watch helplessly while the two combatants tried to kill each other.
I ran over to them and knelt on the grass, pleading with them both to stop, but they were deaf and blind to me, interested only in throwing the best punch. Keane seemed to be slightly ahead in that competition, though Tom put up a good showing too. Keane carried more weight, but Tom was more athletic.
After what seemed like an age of them knocking each other to the floor then staggering up for another go, then knocking each other to the floor again, Maria ran up with some kind of long plastic rod in her hand and touched it to the back of Keane’s neck.
He sprang away from Tom with a howl of rage and pain, clutching the spot she’d touched and glaring at her.
‘What the fuck?’
‘Get up, and stop making such a fool of yourself, man,’ snapped Maria. ‘I will not have this in my garden.’
‘Then get him out of here,’ demanded Keane, looking warily at the spark stick then at Tom, as if weighing up his options.
‘I will. Tom, go away, please.’
‘I think I’d like to leave too,’ I said, aching to go over to my battered and bruised lover, but scared to reveal our connection to Keane.
‘Understandable,’ said Maria icily. ‘I’ll call you a cab. J, you have nobody to blame but yourself. Honestly!’
Tom got up from the lawn, brushed himself off and looked Keane in the eye.
‘You needn’t worry about me any more,’ he said. ‘I’m done with this. I’ve lost my job at the Clarion over it. I’m going to London to find freelance work. Let’s call this my way of saying goodbye.’
Keane grunted. ‘Good fucking riddance,’ he said, but he was obviously still sulking at being cattle-prodded out of his ultimate victory by Maria. ‘Go on then. Walk.’
Tom’s eyes locked with mine for a flicker of a second, then he turned and made his way, with as much dignity as a man limping and gasping with pain at every step could muster, to the gate.
I made to follow Martin back into the house, but a staggering Keane put a hand on my shoulder, trying to stop me.
‘You don’t have to go,’ he said. There was blood at the corner of his mouth and his left eye was dark red and swollen.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, shrugging him off. ‘I think I do.’
Maria had called me the cab by the time I joined her in the living room.
‘Did you know he was a journalist?’ she asked me.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘That’s why I didn’t take things f
urther. I was afraid he was only looking for a story.’
She put down her phone and covered her upper face with a hand.
‘I should have seen it,’ she muttered. ‘It’s unlike me. I’m usually so careful.’ She looked up. ‘You could have told me.’
‘I…I didn’t think it was that big a deal.’
Keane joined us from the garden.
‘You got a steak, Maria? Or a bag of frozen peas? This eye’s going to be black as the ace of spades tomorrow and I’ve got a committee meeting at nine.’
‘No steak, but you might find some frozen burgers,’ said Maria absently. ‘Ellie here knew our friend Tom was a journalist.’
‘You know him?’ Keane turned to me, his non-puffy eye narrowed.
‘He was at the munch,’ I said. ‘We met up a couple of times, but it didn’t…work out.’
‘So he’s known this about me for a while then?’ said Keane, forgetting his quest for iron-rich meats and sinking on to the edge of a couch. ‘He’s been trying to get to me this way for at least a week. He’s going to London, Maria. He could sell this to a London rag.’
‘Don’t be pathetic,’ snapped Maria. ‘What London paper would be interested in the private life of a two-bit local councillor?’
‘Who are you calling two-bit?’
Keane was enraged.
I edged towards the window, praying for the twin beam of taxi headlights.
‘You know I’m right. It’s a local story at best. And the Clarion will never publish any dirt on you, so stop worrying.’
Maria took some crystal tumblers from a cabinet and poured everybody a measure of whisky.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Keane, somewhat calmed. ‘I hope you’re right.’
‘I’m always right. Aren’t I, Martin?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Martin dutifully.
‘Was that really a cattle prod you used on me?’ said Keane, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Packed a hell of a charge.’
‘I’m afraid so. I only use it on my most recalcitrant slaves, as a rule, but in this case…’
‘Surely a violet wand would have done the trick,’ grumbled Keane.
‘Not really. They have to be plugged into the mains. You’re a big man, J, you can take it.’
Fast and Loose Page 20
