A Talent for Surrender (16 page)

Dan looked up and smiled. ‘Yes, thanks. Victor’s been great. Come and have a look.’

Jo looked down at the drawing. The figure Victor had sketched bore an impressive resemblance to Dan even though the face had no features. He seemed to have captured his body shape and stance perfectly. The figure was wearing a tight pair of shorts, military boots and a garment on the upper body that looked like a combination of a body harness and a gladiator’s breastplate.

‘It’s great. I told you Victor was a genius.’

‘And you were absolutely right. He’s been fantastic and he hasn’t touched me up once.’ He winked at Victor.

‘As if . . . but you should consider yourself lucky I didn’t have to measure your inside leg. Now, if you’ll excuse me I should see how the terrible twins are getting on.’ He walked away.

‘Thanks a lot for helping me out.’ Dan smiled and Jo felt her crotch soften and her nipples peak.

‘You’re welcome. How’s the filming going?’

‘Great, it’s been a real eye-opener. The other day I had a session with a pro domme.’

‘Really? What was it like?’

‘Do you know, I don’t think I have the words to describe it. It was . . . fascinating, exciting, terrifying, surprising.’

Jo scanned Dan’s face as he spoke. His eyes were shining and there were dark spots of colour on each cheek. ‘And did you enjoy it?’

Dan frowned. He seemed to be considering his answer. ‘I think I did. Some of it was incredible. But, if I’m honest, it scared me – I mean I liked it so much that it scared me – so I played up for the cameras as a way of maintaining control and I rather wish I hadn’t.’

Dan stroked his chin with a fingertip as he spoke and she noticed that he had a tiny depression, a hint of a dimple, in the centre of his chin. A tingly flush of excitement crept up her throat and over her face.

‘Interesting. You could try it again maybe, and this time just allow yourself to surrender to it. You never know, you might like it.’ She met his gaze.

‘Actually, I’m going to. Sadie made me promise to have a private session with her. It was a condition of the filming.’

‘No cameras? Just the two of you?’

Dan nodded. His mouth was on the edge of a smile and his eyes stared into hers. ‘Do you think I’m crazy?’

‘No. I think you’re rather brave, actually. And an extremely interesting man.’

Dan feigned shock, holding onto the edge of the counter and fanning his face as if he was about to faint.

Jo laughed. ‘Are you free tomorrow night, Dan?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘How would you like to come to dinner? Nothing fancy, but it’ll be home cooked.’

‘I’d love to. Thanks. What time?’

‘Shall we say 8 p.m.? If you give me a call when you get onto the school grounds I’ll come down and meet you at the front door.’

‘OK, thanks. I’ll look forward to it.’ Dan picked up a novel from the counter.

‘What are you reading?’ Jo took the book.

‘Oh, it’s something Sadie gave me. She thought it might be educational and she also said that I’d met the author.’

Jo laughed. ‘Yes, you have. As a matter of fact, you’re talking to her.’ She handed it back.

‘You’re Rosalind Quirt?’

She nodded. ‘But obviously it’s a side of myself I keep strictly separate from my work, and I’ll be grateful if you’d do the same.’

‘Of course. It goes without saying.’ Dan lowered his voice and leaned in close. ‘You’ve just got to be kinky . . . Everyone I meet seems to know you, I bump into you in here and now I find out you write erotica . . . come on . . . I won’t tell.’

‘Writing about something doesn’t necessarily mean you do it.’ She smiled. ‘Do you think PD James actually kills people or that Anne Rice is a vampire?’

‘But the other things . . . you’ve got to admit they’re big clues.’

Jo shrugged. ‘Maybe, maybe not . . .’

‘You’re not going to tell me, are you?’

She slowly shook her head.

Jo stood in the doorway watching Dan’s car snake its way along the drive. It was a beautiful evening. The sun glistened on the surface of the lake and the rolling parkland looked lush and green.

She was wearing a simple cotton dress covered in tiny printed flowers and a pair of high strappy sandals. She’d dressed for the weather though, as she’d stood in her bedroom in her underwear trying to decide what to put on, she’d realised that she was as keen to impress him as a teenager on a first date.

As Dan’s car neared the school she was surprised to realise that it was an ordinary compact car like a Corsa or a Fiesta. She would have expected something more ostentatious or sporty. But, when she thought about it, Dan had already proved himself to be a man capable of surprising her.

Jo could hear the wheels of Dan’s car crunching over the gravel now. The sun glinted on the windscreen. He spotted her and raised a hand in greeting and she thought she saw him smile. She waved back.

He stopped in front of the entrance and Jo walked down the steps to meet him. Dan climbed out of the car and walked towards her, smiling.

‘Good evening. You’re so lucky to live here. It’s like your own stately home, isn’t it?’

‘Yes it’s great. I love it when the kids are on holiday and I have the place all to myself.’ She stopped in front of Dan and he laid a hand on each of her upper arms and bent his head to kiss her gently on both cheeks. He smelled of shaving soap, fresh and clean. Jo felt a slow wave of shivers creep up her neck and over her scalp.

‘You must feel like a queen, living here alone.’

She laughed. ‘Well, not entirely alone. A few of the staff live here all year round but most of them go on holiday during vacation, so at the moment it’s just me and my second in command, Costas. But come up and see the flat. I have a fantastic view.’ She led him into the house.

Upstairs Jo took him on a quick tour of the flat, showing him the view from the various rooms. Finally she led him into the living room.

‘You were right about the view. The lake looks like something out of a fairytale. The kind of place you might meet a frog who’s really a prince.’ He smiled at her.

‘Well, there are plenty of frogs – I swim in the lake every morning during the summer – but I’ve never been tempted to kiss any of them.’

‘Now that I would like to see . . . you in a skimpy costume slipping through the water like a mermaid.’ His eyes were shining.

Jo slowly shook her head. ‘No costume, I’m afraid.’

Dan’s eyes widened. ‘In that case I think I’ll get up early tomorrow and sneak into the grounds with a pair of binoculars.’

Jo laughed. ‘I hope you’re hungry. The food’s nearly ready, we’re having lemon linguine. I’ll put the pasta on and pour us both a drink while we’re waiting.’ She went into the kitchen. As she dropped the dried pasta into the boiling water she realised that Dan had followed her. She smiled.

‘Is there anything I can do? I’m quite domesticated.’

‘You could open the champagne. You’ll find it in the fridge.’ She stirred the pasta.

Dan found the champagne. He looked at the label and whistled. ‘Are we celebrating something? Or do you drink vintage champagne every day?’

‘Not every day, but I love it and I’m far too greedy to save it for special occasions. And, anyway, this is an occasion . . . you’re here.’

‘I’m flattered.’ Dan smiled. ‘Where are the glasses?’

‘In that cupboard behind you. I’ll get them . . .’ She set the kitchen timer. ‘We’ve got ten minutes, let’s go through to the other room.’

Back in the living room Jo watched as Dan removed the foil and wire from the bottle and expertly eased the cork out. He poured the champagne and handed her a glass. He sat down beside her and picked up his own glass

‘To your good health.’ He clinked her glass with his own.

‘To pleasure.’ She took a sip. The champagne was cold and crisp.

‘That’s an interesting toast.’ Dan put down his glass and leaned back against the sofa cushions.

‘You’ve got no objection to pleasure, surely?’ She set her glass down on the coffee table.

‘Not at all. I’m a hundred and ten per cent in favour of it. It just seems rather . . . I don’t know . . . out of keeping with the image of a respectable headmistress.’ He took off his spectacles and polished the lenses on the bottom of his shirt. It was a simple gesture but Jo knew he was deliberately avoiding her eyes.

‘Do I look like a stereotype to you? A wizened old maiden lady with a bun and a squint and no idea what makes young people tick?’

Dan shook his head. He’d finished cleaning his glasses but he sat with them in his lap. ‘No, far from it. From the moment I first met you it was obvious that you’re utterly unique.’

‘Thank you. But you think me too hedonistic for a headmistress? Is that what you’re saying?’

Dan put his glasses back on. He looked at her for a long moment. Finally he spoke. ‘I suppose I’m just saying that you constantly surprise me. For a start, you’ve got to admit there’s a bit of a conflict between the job you do and the way you look.’

‘How do I look?’ She leaned forwards and picked up her glass.

Dan ran his hand through his hair. ‘I seem to have dug a bit of a hole for myself. Perhaps I should stop before it gets any deeper.’

‘No. It’s all right. Go on. I’m interested.’ She sipped her champagne.

‘Well . . . do you know who you remind me of? Only you’re blonde of course, so the comparison’s not quite perfect . . . you look like a kind of cross between Nigella Lawson and Dita Von Teese, sultry, slightly bossy and a wardrobe out of the 1940s.’

‘Actually, you’re the second person to say I remind them of Dita Von Teese.’

‘So it’s not just my fevered imagination then.’ He smiled.

‘Apparently not and it’s a very flattering comparison. Thanks.’ Jo ran her fingertip around the top of her glass. She could feel heat in her cheeks and she knew they’d be stained with red. ‘And I surprise you in other ways, too?’

‘Yes.’ Dan picked up his glass but he didn’t drink. Jo was certain it was a delaying tactic. ‘You know I’m working with Hellfire 2000 at the moment and every single one of them seems to know you. Then I find out you’re Rosalind Quirt.’ He stroked the condensation away from the outside of his glass with a fingertip, deliberately avoiding her gaze.

‘And you think this all means that I must be kinky?’

He nodded. ‘Well, are you?’

The timer pinged in the kitchen and Jo put down her glass. She stood up. ‘It looks like I’ll have to answer that later. If you’d like to take our glasses and the bottle into the dining room I’ll be through in a second with the food.’ She went into the kitchen.

After the meal they drank their coffee in the living room. Jo had taken off her shoes and she sat at one end of the sofa with her legs curled under her. Dan sat at the other, one arm along the back of the cushions and his long legs crossed. He looked boyish and handsome and relaxed.

Dan swirled the brandy in his glass. ‘I suppose, when you think about it, writing novels is a bit like what I do. You hide behind your characters, but you also reveal aspects of your true self by giving your own attributes to them.’

‘And you hide behind the version of Dan you’ve created for your films. I suppose I can see the parallels.’

‘Yes, but it’s a bit more than that, I think. The on-screen Dan is a mask, yes, but he’s also, in a way, a shield. Something to hide behind and keep me safe when I reveal my true self, my true feelings. Isn’t writing something like that?’

Jo took a long swallow of her brandy. She felt the hot liquid sliding down her throat, warming and relaxing her. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. It’s a safe way of sharing myself with the world because, by the time anyone reads it, I’ve made a clean getaway.’

‘And, as you write under a pen name, no one knows it’s you anyway.’

‘Well, a few people do, obviously. You among them, now.’

‘And, I promise, it’s a secret I intend to keep.’

‘Thanks.’ She watched Dan sipping his drink. She noticed his Adam’s apple bob and his eyes narrow as he swallowed. Under her clothes, her nipples tingled. She looked away. ‘Tell me, Dan. Were you involved in kink before you started the film?’

‘No, not at all. Never even fantasised about it. No – I tell a lie . . . When I was a teenager I used to have a recurring dream about Margaret Thatcher. She was always dressed in an academic gown, like the masters at my public school wore, and she used to make me pull my trousers down and masturbate while she made derogatory comments.’

Jo noticed that Dan was blushing. She laughed. ‘Interesting.’

‘I have no idea what it says about me though.’

‘I think it probably means that you’re far too posh. You can’t imagine lads who went to comprehensive schools dreaming about Maggie, can you?’

‘Are you sure you’ll be all right? We could call you a taxi.’ Dan was standing on the top step as Jo held the front door open for him. It was almost midnight. Lit from behind, Jo’s hair looked like spun gold.

‘No, I’ll be fine. There’s no point in me risking getting stopped for being over the limit and I only live ten minutes away. The walk will do me good. I only drove over because I was running behind. I’ll come back in the morning for the car if you don’t mind.’

‘Of course not. I’m not in tomorrow, unfortunately, otherwise you could have popped up for a coffee.’

‘Another time then. Or perhaps I can return the compliment and cook for you one evening.’

Jo smiled. ‘I’d like that. Goodnight then.’ She stepped forwards and laid a hand on his upper arm. Even through his shirt, his skin felt soft. She looked up at him.

Dan put his hands on her waist. He could feel her body heat through the thin cotton of her dress. Her waist felt impossibly small and he could feel the beginning of the swell of her hips. He bent his head and kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm and her face felt silky and smooth against his face.