Bertie and the Kinky Politician (2 page)

Talk about love at first sight!

‘Please, James, I would appreciate it very much if you could shut your mouth. I can see the remains of some half-chewed dainty lurking in there and I have to tell you it's not a very pleasant sight at all.'

James coloured badly and swallowed behind his napkin. ‘I do apologise,' he mumbled, wiping his lips. ‘How inexcusably rude of me.' Bogey would have to wait. She was absolutely stunning – without doubt the most attractive woman he'd ever seen at one of Patti's soirees, and let's face it, he'd been to a fair few over the years! ‘I have to say I don't normally behave like this, it's just that Patti can be so exasperating sometimes. Did you notice how she homed in from behind so I stood no chance of fleeing?'

‘You're thinking of escape? Am I that ugly?'

James went very hot and gooey inside. ‘No, no, of course not.' His cheeks burned even brighter. She made him feel like a schoolboy on his first date, and he knew quite clearly that was her intent. ‘But Patti never ceases in her misguided attempts to marry me off. It's been going on for quite a while now and sometimes gets a little trying. I can only say I'm truly sorry.'

‘No matter,' she said lightly. There was another of those dreadfully difficult pauses. James couldn't think of anything to say and stood awkwardly, almost hopping from foot to foot, suddenly terrified she would dismiss him and walk away. Celeste found the child-like expression of agony on his face rather appealing. He obviously found social niceties difficult to handle, which demonstrated an intriguing paradox. She knew he was a very influential person, as confided breathlessly by Patti, yet his reticence contradicted his public image and indicated an honesty of character rarely admitted in a man, especially a man in his line of work. His blue eyes were warm and curiously sharp. There was, without doubt, a first-class mind lurking in there beneath the yoghurt stains. She guessed he had hidden depths.

Potential.

He was quite handsome in a vaguely shambolic sort of way, with a good head of dark hair just greying at the temples, but scruffy enough around the edges to indicate no wife was there to advise on the daily use of a comb. Crow's feet at the eyes betrayed a love of laughter – always to be desired – but his mouth was, to her mind, easily his best feature. Very kissable indeed. She guessed plenty of women would have no objection at all to find his lips on theirs, so just exactly why was he still single? He was obviously not gay and his response to her was one of a strongly heterosexual man. He clearly possessed manners, held down a tremendous job, suffered from no obvious defects, neither in body nor character, possessed a lovely soft West Country burr which, in London, was music to the ears, and was plainly affluent, yet he still remained firmly unmarried. Intriguing.

She spotted a few tell-tale crumbs on his jacket pocket and guessed he'd stowed away a selection of Patti's morsels for a late supper. It was so typical of a bachelor. Here was a man of considerable standing who was prepared to steal food from one of the most famous socialites in the capital and not even bat an eyelid at the preposterousness of it all. The crumbs swung it for Celeste. ‘Listen, James, shall we escort our annoying hostess upstairs, tie her hand and foot and suspend her by the ankles from her own bedroom balcony? I have my handcuffs with me. That rain drumming on the window should dampen her matchmaking ardour! What do you say?'

‘Tempting, but only if we can gag her with some of those awful blue pastries.'

‘They are particularly inedible, aren't they?'

‘Blue is not a good colour for anything sitting on a pastry.'

Celeste leaned close. ‘I do hope you have none in your pocket,' she whispered conspiratorially.

James smelt her delicious fragrance. The perfume she used was faint and subtle, enhancing rather than swamping. How on earth did she know? ‘Only the best make it out of here. I may be a thief, but I'm not a stupid thief.'

‘I'm sure you're not. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me.'

James finally managed to recover most of his composure. Across the room, Patti introduced an internationally recognized Nobel Prize-winning professor to a stunning young woman less than half his age. The two new acquaintances seemed to be getting along famously. ‘There goes Patti again. I had the dubious pleasure of meeting the pneumatically spectacular Tawny a few months ago. Now what sort of a name is that?'

‘A professional one, no doubt.' Celeste had Tawny's measure already.

‘Much more appealing than Mildred.'

They watched Tawny at work, coaxing, flattering, simpering and pouting. She was good. Oh yes, she was very good. The professor began to dribble as only a long-married grandfather can dribble. She leaned in close to whisper something breathy in his ear, pressing top-quality silicone puppies against his arm, her shimmering low-cut dress barely able to corral the trembling hooters.

‘Surely they're not natural,' whispered James.

‘My father used to call an oversized bosom “Cabman's Rests”, which always caused us great hilarity,' mused Celeste.

‘I seem to recall “Bumpy Jumper” was my brother's favoured euphemism.'

‘Well, however you care to name them, she's certainly skilled in their deployment. Have you ever seen a man so goggle-eyed?'

‘I'm prepared to wager one of the Queen's bright shiny shillings they leave together within the next fifteen minutes,' said James.

‘As you were about to do yourself.'

‘Not any longer,' he replied gallantly, sticking out his chin and straightening his tie with an exaggerated air.

‘I'm very relieved to hear it. So, back to my original question – what about Patti? You want to liven up this party in a way even Tawny would struggle to match?'

James gave a measured sidelong glance at their hostess and smiled. ‘Suspended, you say. Bound and gagged! What a splendid idea, although such an action would lead to blackballing by the more outraged elements of London society. One wonders how the incident would be reported in the gossip columns. Dear Patti is almost a minor royal, you know.'

Celeste already liked his dry and articulate wit. ‘Then again, word would get around and perhaps new and more interesting avenues of entertainment might open up for us.'

‘Lovely. What do you have in mind?'

‘You tell me; I'm new here. I can assure you this is a hell of a change from sunny Brazil.'

‘I imagine it is. Still, despite the lousy weather, London always has one thing strongly in its favour.'

‘And what's that?'

‘You can get anything here. It's what defines London as the leading city on the planet. Believe me, if you can't get it in London, you can't get it anywhere in the world.'

‘It?'

‘Whatever you want. Anything. Anything you like – animal, vegetable, or mineral. Anything at all.'

‘So that's anything, then?'

‘Nothing gets past you, does it.'

‘Legal or illegal?'

‘Certainly.'

‘Unusual?'

‘Indubitably.'

‘Perverted?'

‘Ah, forever the preserve of the clergy.'

‘Even, perhaps, fetishistic?'

‘Dear me, especially that, if you know where to look.'

‘Excellent. That makes a pleasant change. Brazil is a tremendous country and I will always love it dearly, but despite the population's zest for carnival there are still some disappointing inhibitions.' Celeste had already begun to register James. She realised she was in the company of an exceptional man. It was so good to be back home. There was something wonderfully eccentric about English society, a society which would always provide fertile pickings for a woman of her unique predilections. This was the real reason for her return home – she knew she would never be able to find true love in Brazil. The Latins she'd met had been so unresponsive in that respect.

She'd found herself at the centre of much amorous attention once her interesting bits started to ripen, primarily because of her pale skin and unique hair, a combination which proved a beguiling lure to the local boys. However, an endless string of persistent suitors displayed little interest in anything other than their own gratification. Perhaps it was in their blood, but no sooner had she managed to lure a young man into her room – always the easy bit – she discovered her own participation in the proceedings was expected to be limited to lying back passively and moaning in appreciation at the appropriate moment. All Brazilian men wanted to do, without exception, was screw her brains out. How odd! They showed absolutely no enthusiasm at all for submissive role-playing, bondage, or its traditional companion, flagellation, by then three subjects very close to her heart. Without exception they dissolved into screaming fits of panic the moment she produced the handcuffs and started cracking her whip! It really was most frustrating and despite naturally healthy urges she was, technically, sort of, more or less, just about, still a virgin!

Not that it bothered her much. Busy fingers keep a girl happy.

‘How distressing for you. It's widely acknowledged the British plutocracy has embraced the more recondite side of life with great enthusiasm,' offered James with the exaggerated air of a pompous university lecturer addressing his bored students.

‘You sound like the good professor over there,' observed Celeste, nodding at the couple across the room. There was now a smudge of very red lipstick on his cheek, a pair of tan-sprayed arms wrapped around his neck, and a slender, sinuously voluptuous body pressed against his chest.

‘I don't think our Tawny understands many words with more than one syllable. “Money” and “condom” probably top the list.'

‘Her tongue is skilled in other areas. No doubt she's a native of Cockermouth!'

‘Now, Celeste, that's a very naughty thing to say. It's a lovely town.' James chided gently. There was a pause. ‘But I do wish I'd said it,' he added with a chortle.

‘Let's get back to the interesting side of life. Are your opinions based on first-hand experience?' she enquired.

‘Well that's a long story. I wouldn't want to bore you.'

‘My boredom disappeared the moment Patti introduced us.'

‘Now that was good fortune, wasn't it? You could have ended up with the professor.'

‘And you could have had another shot at Tawny. She seems to like distinguished men.'

‘Heaven forbid. Even though I haven't exactly been active recently, I wouldn't risk involvement with such a woman. Her body may be soft but her business acumen most certainly isn't. Allegedly!' he added hurriedly, in response to a raised eyebrow from Celeste. ‘Anyway, I don't want to talk about her any more. Why would I with you here?'

‘James, that was the correct answer I was looking for. I like a man with manners. Come now, you were about to enlighten me on the pleasures London can provide. You've left me intrigued so spill the beans. Don't hold back.'

‘And risk the chance of being overheard? Such tales are not for the sensitive.' He scanned the immediate area furtively and Celeste smiled at his sly expression. ‘Do you really have a pair of handcuffs?' he wheedled, hoping his flush of excitement wasn't too obvious. He was on home territory and determined to test her reactions. The small leather handbag hanging from her shoulder certainly looked large enough to conceal such an item.

‘A lady must keep the contents of her bag a strict secret.' She tilted her head to one side and smiled roguishly. ‘Why? Does the employment of such equipment interest you?'

James started loading fancies onto a plate for her, avoiding the blue ones. ‘I couldn't possibly comment.' It was a politician's answer, neutral and bland, yet said with just enough emphasis to intimate he was interested. Very! His good friend, Mr John Thomas, who normally had no difficulty slumbering through Patti's little gatherings, found himself stirring into a delightful perkiness and began to nose outwards against the sturdy constriction of his M&S trousers.

‘Because if it does, we'd best lay out the ground rules.'

‘Intriguing. Do go on.' He poured two generous glasses of Patti's most expensive champagne and passed one to Celeste. Her nails were almond-shaped and scarlet red. A covert examination of her ring finger revealed no wedding band shadow. Excellent. Now suitably provisioned, they gravitated away from the table to a quiet corner where they could observe the dynamics of the room whilst maintaining their own little bubble of privacy.

‘I merely point out that in this situation it might be wise to determine who would be the prisoner and who the jailer.' Celeste nibbled on a pastry and regarded James with a calm and unwavering stare. For a second, he stood quite still. She could feel the decision coming. What a stroke of absolute good fortune – chance meetings like this were so unlikely they only ever exist as convenient plot developments employed by first-time authors.

‘Do you know the stories of Alexandre Dumas?'

‘I take it you're referring to The Man in the Iron Mask.'

‘I've, er, always felt a certain affinity towards the poor chap. Wondered what it would be like to experience such a situation. I guess most people would consider it unfortunate to find themselves in that sort of pickle, but I'm not so sure, especially if his jailer was someone like you.' There, he'd said it – whatever happened now was up to her.

‘James, believe me, I'd not disappoint you in that respect.

A fresh flight of skateboarding butterflies launched themselves into James's belly, bouncing around in a most delicious way. Vital organs nearby joined in with the general merriment, somersaulting with excitement, adding to his most agreeable feeling of well-being. He struggled to return to his narrative but Mr Thomas's wayward swelling was now threatening to burst through his fly. Little wonder he found himself momentarily distracted ‘I, ah. Um. Sorry, where was I?'