by James Grey
“Oh, girl…unbelievable! That’s the ultimate! Of all the kings and emirs on the whole continent, he’s the only one who keeps a real harem. It’s like biblical times, or so I’ve heard.”
“You know someone who’s been there?”
“I’ve heard a few things, yeah. He’s got some connections in Oman, where I’m from. There are whispers he had a few girls from there. He loves a mix of women. He’s not one of these guys who only wants the European blondes. It’ll be a United Nations in that hothouse.”
“God, I need to know more! What do you mean real harem, ’Tifa?”
“Well, you live very nicely in the compound, but when he’s on his way to the room, you’ll get five minutes warning, and then you cram yourselves into quite a small space. He likes to walk in that door and see his women almost piled up on top of each other. From what I’ve heard, it’s basically a lot of skin, oil and water, and you hope to get picked.”
“So, he’s quite tasty, is he?”
“Fuck yeah! Google him, you silly girl! He’s third in line to the throne, this prince, or something like that. So he’s got no responsibilities, really. He’s a decent man, but he loves pussy. And much more, of course. I’ve heard nobody gets in without a well-trained ass.”
I’m getting seriously hot under the collar, listening to this. I’m barely looking where I’m going, and almost run into a Saturday jogger decked out in luminous pink and yellow. She gives me a glare, as if I shouldn’t be walking and talking.
“Oh, and he likes to choose one or two girls to take to his room, but only very occasionally. It sounds like you’re doing very well if that happens. Bet you get the invite!”
“Well, I’ve gotten lucky so far. I have no idea how he’s heard about me.”
“Look in the mirror some time, and you might understand! God, I want to join you out there! You’ve inspired me to make a few enquiries. Let me know what you find out.”
“I will, if I make it out there!”
“If? Have you lost your mind? You don’t say no to Prince Yousuf! This is the dream, I promise you. If you don’t go, I’m dressing up as Emma Carling and I’m going myself!”
“Alright, I hear you. I just need to sort out a few things here as well, you know? It is a month away from home, after all.”
“I’d just get on the first plane, if I were you. You don’t even need to pack clothes. You’re expected to be naked for the full month. Oh, and be ready to get saucy with some hot girls, because there’s only one of him and there’s a couple of dozen of you. Oh, Jesus, talking about it might just give me an orgasm!”
“Sorry!” I grin, glancing up at Tower Bridge as it looms up on my right. “I haven’t said much though. You’ve only got yourself to blame!”
“Fair enough. Anyway, the point is, GO! He’s quite whimsical, or so I’ve been told. He might change his mind any day and withdraw the invitation.”
Even by Latifa’s standards, she’s really hammering this point home. And I take it. It doesn’t sound like this is something I want to miss.
“I’m just dreaming of lush jungles, heat and sex now. I’ll be ready to get out of this freezing place any day now. First stop, Oman, and then…who knows where I might end up!”
“I wouldn’t put it past you to walk into that harem, I really wouldn’t,” I laugh, wishing desperately that there wasn’t that one big, arid stumbling block between the dream and me right now. “Maybe I’ll see you there?”
“If you do,” she says, “Then you’re first in line to oil my tits. You owe me one, if memory serves.”
“That’s true, I most certainly do.”
It’s refreshing to be able to say that out loud. Even in the first couple of weeks after finishing at Cranleigh House, I’d have clammed up with shyness.
We ring off, and I keep walking a while longer, just soaking up London on my own. The river’s busy with small boats today, and there’s a bright breeze keeping all the flags flapping merrily away. The city may be a picture in its own way, and the sun may be out today, but it’s still the middle of winter. The thought of jetting off to the topic for sun, sex and, well, more sex, has me totally won over.
So then, all I need to do is sort out this thing with Charles.
Chapter IX
The first thing I do, completely of my own accord, is have that clit ring removed. I suppose it was Charles, ultimately, who paid for it to be put in there. I can’t deny it’s been giving me amazing sensations virtually on tap, especially when it catches lightly on my panties as I browse the local bookshops, but I still should have gotten rid of it the day after the big unveiling. This is a long-overdue purging.
I go back to the same guy who inserted the piece, and I do it first thing on Monday morning. And I also do rather well at getting less turned on than the time before. I need to take this severance properly, if that’s what it is. As far as I’m concerned, the ring is like some sort of claim he made on me, and that’s the last thing I need between my pussy lips right now. Maybe feeling that metal there is what’s been the problem all along?
That done, I head to a coffee shop, sit down with a latte and take a deep, long breath. I’m going to text Charles. I need to move on with my life, one way or another. So this has to happen.
I’m proud of myself for taking the bull by the horns, instead of just ignoring him and hoping he’ll go away. Nonetheless, there’s no way I’m going to take on any kind of friendliness. He is extremely guilty until proven innocent.
I would be very interested to hear the rest of the story, then. Come and talk to me.
I barely have time to swallow a satisfied, yet nervous, sip of my coffee, before the reply vibrates into my phone.
Where are you now?
He wants to meet with me right away! Obviously this is more important to him than work right now. I’ll give him a small sliver of credit for that. Because yes, it’s fucking important.
Coffee shop near Liverpool Street.
I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.
Fuck, things can happen fast when you make a move. One text, and now, all of a sudden, I’m about to see Charles walking in the door.
I’m so happy I got rid of the ring. I think about how I’m looking, and then chide myself for doing it. It doesn’t matter. I have no business trying to impress him today, any time soon, or ever. The worse I look, the better. I don’t want him to start showering me with compliments. This is a serious chat we’re about to have. There are things I need to know.
I spend most of the next quarter-hour glancing absent-mindedly through the morning’s Independent, strumming my fingers on the paper as I try to fool myself that I’m just passing the time before a perfectly harmless acquaintance arrives. I don’t have much luck with that, but one thing I’m glad of is the fact that we’re meeting in a public place. Hopefully having other people around keeps things on an even keel.
I see him through the window even before he pushes the door open. Elegantly dressed as usual, his eyes fall straight onto mine the moment he enters. Like he knew exactly what table I’d have chosen. Am I really that predictable?
My heart does a somersault. He looks good, but it’s not about that. It’s about everything that’s happened between us. It’s about the time we’ve been apart, and why it’s had to be like that. It’s about the betrayal. I need to keep it together.
He smiles at me. I nod back at him, staying firmly in my chair. He’s not going to get hugs and kisses, and he thinks the better of trying to give me any as he takes a seat. He doesn’t bother to order a drink at the counter. That works for me. This might not be a very long chat at all.
I can’t look into his eyes as he settles down opposite me, not even for a second. It’s impossible to lock gazes with someone you once loved – maybe? – only to find they’ve betrayed you.
At the same time, though, I know I’m going to have to find the strength to look at him when he comes to his explanation. It’s the only way I’ll know whether I can believe him.
“Let’s skip the formalities,” he begins. “They’re meaningless right now. So, first of all, it goes without saying that you have my profound apologies. For everything.”
“Okay,” I say bluntly. “That doesn’t help a lot, but okay.”
“I get that you feel betrayed, and I made a bad decision or two. But there are some things you need to know, too.”
“I’m listening,” I say impatiently, leaning back in my chair with my arms folded across my chest, looking at the wall above his shoulder and resisting the temptation to tear into that ‘bad decision’ understatement.
“One very important point,” he begins. “It wasn’t me until the last night.”
What?
Okay, now I have to look at him. And, confronted with such a bold statement of fact, I have no problem doing it. I try to read his eyes as I gather myself to press for more.
“I beg your pardon?”
“At that house, where you went with the blindfold. It was somebody else when you went there with the four other girls. Then in your next couple of visits, it was the same guy. Lucy didn’t lie to you. It was someone exceedingly famous.”
God, I’m tired of hearing how rich and famous everybody is.
“Well bully for him,” I snap. “Fine. I don’t care what company he owns, either. How did he turn into you? And is that your house?”
“It’s not my house, it’s his,” he says, holding my gaze for as long as I hold his. Despite my irritated mood, I can find no trace of insincerity in what he’s telling me. “He is, however, a very good friend of mine.”
“Keep talking.”
He takes a gulp of air, and soldiers on.
“We were chatting over a glass of sherry at our club one evening, comparing a few notes on our women. When I told him I’d settled exclusively on you, he was scathing. He’s a true believer in the submission of the female, and part of that mindset is regularly selecting new favourites, as if from a supermarket shelf. The rest of his tastes, I think you know.
“We kept on debating the point. I told him how I used to be like him, but how something in you had changed things for me. As we compared notes, it emerged that both of us had been working through Lucy. And then, as we compared even more graphic details, we realised both of us had been seeing you – each of us in our own way.”
I’m pretty sure he’s not fibbing about any of this, somehow. It’s still weird trying to look him in the eye now, as he talks about our past relations.I drop my gaze back down to my half-drunk cup of coffee.
I nod, and he continues.
“I’m not sure how much Lucy told you about me, Emma, but normally I am a dominant in the same mould as this friend of mine. I agreed with Lucy that I would go easy on you that first night, but something about you made that side of me hide away altogether for the evening.
“And then, after that night, I got totally swept up by the romance of it all. Completely unlike me. Even though I knew you had a reputation as a terrific submissive, my heart somehow wasn’t in it when it came to punishing you. I was half-hearted about it, because I just didn’t know if it fitted with us.
“Essentially, we had too good a romantic connection for me to have a gag in your mouth the whole time. I didn’t miss that kind of thing with you, really, and was about to completely stop trying. Until I got talking to my friend that night.
“Everything changed after hearing what he had to say. Suddenly, hearing the graphic tales of some of the things he’d done with you awakened that side of me again. I wasn’t sure if I should take matters that way with you, when everything was going so well. He was convinced I should try. That I should never suppress my dominant side.”
He pauses for a moment. I sense he’s coming to the critical juncture. I flick my eyes to his again. Once more, they’re ready and willing to meet mine. Honesty personified.
“So, here’s what happened. He offered me the chance to come and experience you in his place. You were always blindfolded, he said, so you’d never know.”
I’m about to interrupt, but he holds up his hand.
“I know this makes you angry, but please let me finish.”
I relax my shoulders again, and let him carry on.
“At first I refused. It didn’t seem right. But he kept on insisting there’d be no harm in it. It would be the perfect way for me to sample you in that way with no risk to the relationship building between us.”
I snort indignantly, but say nothing.
“I wasn’t going to do it, but then I had a terrible week. Really bad for business. I got screwed over by a few people, and the dominant in me needed a woman to take it out on. The problem was – and I know you won’t want to hear this, but it’s true nonetheless – that I wasn’t interested in anybody else. It had to be you. Even if you didn’t know it.
“I made a snap decision that morning, and asked him if the offer was still there. I didn’t expect him to give you up when he was already looking forward to his next session with you, but it turned out he had to leave town at short notice anyway.
“All I had to do was go round to his house, use his servants as instructed and follow usual procedures. Gemma, who helps him handle all his girls, would be there to make everything run smoothly as ever. You wouldn’t know the difference. It seemed safe.
“He told me about the ring he’d had put in, and what he’d been planning to do with it. I loved the idea. It was very close to something I’d always wanted to try, in fact. So it all fell into place, as though it was like it was meant to be.”
He lowers his face to my height, draws it a little closer, and fixes me with such a gaze that I can’t possibly avoid returning it.
“Emma, he didn’t tell Lucy, obviously, and I knew that. This is where we both fucked up. It was totally wrong.”
It’s good to hear him say it. But I look away, not yet willing to budge. I hope he’s squirming.
“I wasn’t supposed to take the blindfold off you, of course. I was planning to…well, you know. But you were – ” he hesitates – “enjoying it so much, and so was I. It just went to my head. I wanted to bring you into my dominant world, show you who was giving you this pleasure. But I forgot what he’d already done to your mind. And I forgot that it was too sudden given the relationship we already had. I got it so wrong.”
Now he’s the one sitting back in his chair.
“So that’s the whole story?”
He turns out his palms as though he’s opening a book. “That’s the whole story. That’s what I wanted to tell you. Face to face.”
Chapter X
I was completely unprepared for what Charles has just told me. At first, I’ve got no idea whether to be even angrier than before or somehow relieved. All I know is that I need to get away and think about it.
Reeling from what he’s revealed, and uncertain how to feel, I don’t ask him any more questions before excusing myself. I know there’s a lot more I’d like to find out, but I think it can wait for a text or another meeting. This has already been far too much to take in.
Even just seeing his face was enough of a strain. The adrenaline doesn’t settle down until about an hour after I’ve left him behind. I calm myself by wandering about a few of the clothing stores in the area. I try on a few dresses, and a brown jacket I particularly like, too preoccupied at first to remember that I can actually afford to buy anything I want now.
Trying to give myself time to digest everything Charles told me, I purchase the jacket and decide to wear it right away. The windy January day is perfect for the thick, stocky protection it offers as I drift along the crowded pavements, heading in the direction of Regent’s Park.
Dodging the pedestrians annoys me after a while, even though I’m in no particular hurry and on no more of a mission than to clear my mind. On a whim, I decide to buy something for my parents. The meeting with the folks might have gone better than I’d hoped, but there’s nothing like a present to get things back to normal. Even if Christmas was only a fe
w days ago.
I don’t want to get them anything too extravagant, of course. That would be a bit too much of a reminder of what paid for the goods. So I settle on a modest handbag I know my mother will like. Getting my dad anything too manly feels weird, somehow, so I get him a basic smartphone. It’s time he joined the 21st century and left his landline behind.
But there’s only so long I can stave off thinking about Charles. Now that I’ve calmed down, I feel hungry enough to be ready to talk about the whole thing over a friendly lunch. Martin? I guess I may as well continue confiding in him. It’s awkward, with him being a friend of Charles and all, but on the other hand that might just make him the best person to speak to.
We hatch a plan to meet up in Sloane Square, which is near his office, and I hop on a tube to get there. My two main errands done – clit ring and Charles – I don’t actually have anything planned for the rest of the day. I force myself to smile as I sit amongst the miserable faces on the tube. Whatever dramas I might be experiencing, I’d better not forget what a privilege it is to be able to wander around with so much time on my hands.
I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of drifting around London: there’s so much of it I haven’t seen yet. Even when I’m seeing clients again, I’ll still have heaps of leisure time. Alyssia and I have been talking about doing a few of the terrific guided walks around the city, and it’s about time we got to doing it. I hit up Google and find a walk around Southwark that starts at four. Alyssia’s free – her agency also has a two-a-day limit just like Lucy – and we agree that today will be the day.
The fact that I’m thinking happy thoughts and making fun plans must be a good sign that I’m not fuming after this morning’s coffee-shop encounter. I’ve done pretty well at keeping my mind occupied for the first couple of hours since Charles’s revelations, because I’ve learned that there’s no point overthinking things while I’m emotional. I think it’s a good policy for life in general.
