Breaking Leila (6 page)

Joseph had left
details of the restaurant in the envelope. I hadn’t taken so long
to get ready since my very first client, when I’d worried over runs
in my stockings and whether my perfume was the cheap, slutty kind.
Now I found myself lingering over a choice of lipstick, the length
of my nails. I settled on a floaty dress with a Grecian cut
bodice–pretty, but not predatory. No need to go hunting
tonight.

I arrived at
the restaurant just after 8:30 PM, and the hostess led me to the
table.

Then I saw
Isobel, and it hit me. I would perform a seduction and it might
well be real, but the rest of the night was a lie. Unsettled, I
watched as she leaned across to Joseph, brushed his collar and
drank in his words… I hadn’t even met the woman and already, I
played her false.

She
 
was
 
quite the woman.

“Hello.” Isobel
smiled and held out a manicured hand. She had a vaguely familiar
accent–European? All her consonants fell out in staccato
shapes.

“It’s lovely to
meet you.”

Her hand, soft
and light in mine, needed no firm grip to make an impact. The
hostess pulled out my chair and I re-arranged my skirt before
sitting down.

“Isobel,” said
Joseph, “this is Leila. She’s currently training in my office.”
Gone was the office tie, yet he was ten times the schoolboy in his
filthy-eyed glee.

Isobel nodded.
“I work in tax law myself. Are you planning to stay in the
field?”

“Yep. I really
enjoy it,” I said. “Well…except for the clerks at Inland Revenue
with the beaks for noses. They freak me out a bit.”

“She’s a
talented girl,” Joseph murmured. “Full of promise.”

Isobel gave a knowing little laugh and I shuddered. I wanted
to say she looked groomed, but that wasn’t it–
sculpted
 
was more appropriate. Her caramel skin had a sparkling sheen
to it, and her chin-length hair fell in honeyed shades of blond.
She couldn’t have hit thirty yet. I tried not to stare at her
lips–plump as peaches–and failed miserably. Good job I was actually
there for the woman for once, and not the man.

“Where are you
from, Isobel?” I meant to sound relaxed, yet my voice was made of
water.

She sipped her
wine, savoured for a moment. Smiled her approval at Joseph. “I’m
from Salzburg originally. Now I work in Vienna.” Her glass made a
soft thump against the table cloth as she placed it down. “I spend
a fair amount of time in the UK, for work. I do a lot of consulting
for your company.”

“It’s worth
coming over here for the shopping,” I said. “You must have a good
eye–that camisole is gorgeous.”

“Oh, thank
you.” A delicate string of diamonds winked against her wrist. “And
you’re right. I don’t know which I like best–Harrods or Urban
Outfitters.”

I laughed.
“Europe is better for perfume, though.”

“Quite. Tell me
what it’s like to work for Joseph, then. I want to hear all your
stories.”

Joseph cleared his throat as our entrees arrived. The tasting
menu had been selected and we were to have six, maybe seven small
courses. Meant to be a chance for the chef to show off, it was also
the perfect pre-cursor to sex because it didn’t quite satisfy, and
the feeling lingered:
 
you need something
more.

Tonight was no
disappointment in that arena.

Joseph, for the
most part, played the smiling observer. His eyes followed the swell
of my breasts, or my fingers as I touched Isobel’s arm. He
luxuriated in the promise that sparked between us all. The
chemistry was subtle, but it was there.

“Joseph tells
me that it’s your birthday today,” I said to Isobel. “I’m flattered
that you chose to invite me this evening.”

“Oh, it was his idea.” A flush crept over her cheeks. “He has
the best ideas, don’t you,
 
schneemann
?”

“I’d like that
in writing, please.”

I caught his
gaze for a moment, transported back to our encounter that morning,
and fought to keep still against the ripple of inner muscles. I
wouldn’t get to kiss him tonight, would I? Ugh. So...mean.

Still,
exploring Isobel would be no trial.

We fell into conversation dangerously akin to whinging about
the recession. My inner tax geek mewed in the yogic stretch of it,
and as new opinions frothed in the wake of our debate, I forgot my
nerves. The food was sublime but it may as well have been sawdust,
and panic sidled up to my growing arousal, tapping its shoulder and
cocking its brows.
 
How does she not know what I
do? How does she think he arranged this...?

Toward the end,
I made my prerequisite trip to the bathroom and lingered there
nervously, wrapping red curls around my fingers. I had played well
so far: compliments, intelligent chatter, only one glass of wine.
The anticipation was not normally so tumultuous–I got paid either
way, and a rejection simply meant a free evening.

I did not want
to be rejected this time.

Chapter 3

Joseph smirked.
Either another twisted trainee sucked him off under the table, or
he was about to take me home for Isobel.

As we left,
Isobel took my arm and guided me toward their car. We giggled in
the backseat over the way the waiter had stared at us, how his eyes
had widened as we held hands. Now we were the lovers curled back on
cool leather, squirming beneath our seatbelts as our fingers went
on safari, and every time she glanced at me, she bit her bottom
lip. Her nipples hardened beneath the silky bodice and her palm
bore the faintest chill of sweat.

Joseph flicked
the light switch at the door of his loft apartment, and the glow
spilled into acres of open space. Reams of books stood neatly on
glass shelves, and giant landscapes–fjords?–splayed their valleys
across the walls. Furniture was in pale hues and smooth curves.
There were all kinds of rumours at work about the space he kept so
private–he had a secret collection of stuffed reptiles, a glass
floor revealing a shark tank. Virgins writhed in cages before he
devoured them for breakfast. Now, I crossed the threshold with the
golden-haired ticket, and she mewed as our hips bumped at the
door.

Isobel took me
out to the balcony and then disappeared. I was alone with the
cityscape and its clustering lights.

“Nicely done,”
Joseph said from behind me. His hand snaked across my belly and his
breath poured over my ear. “You look gorgeous.”

A breeze swept
down. I shivered. “Thank you.”

He ran his hand
up, cupped my breasts and kneaded them softly. “Do you ever bother
with a bra?” His voice mashed delight and amusement into rough,
curvy sighs.

“At work. Do
you think I need one now?”

“Absolutely
not.” He weighed them with sweeping thumbs. “Later, after Isobel
falls asleep...you and me.”

Oh.
 
“Okay,” I whispered.

Isobel strode
up behind us and Joseph darted away.

“It’s lovely
out here, isn’t it?” She rubbed her nose. Beside me, barefoot, she
was barely an inch shorter.

“If a little
cold,” said Joseph, cocking an eyebrow at her erect nipples.

I sank down to
a steel chaise longue and patted the space between the cushions.
“Would you like to sit with me, Isobel?”

She smiled
shyly and padded over. I slid the straps of the camisole down her
arms and turned her to face Joseph. She gave a little sigh as my
fingertips sailed over her skin. I was a kitten swatting at a
butterfly, and he knew, I knew.

I swept the
hair away from her neck. The breeze caught its honeysuckle scent
and fed it to me in wispy slithers. Then I brushed my lips against
the skin there, tracing the sleek line with my tongue. Joseph
leaned against the doorway and watched, hands stuffed into his
pockets and eyes greedy.

“I think you’re
beautiful,” I whispered, biting Isobel’s earlobe. “I think you’re
like dessert in human form.”

She giggled.
Tilted her head toward my mouth. “Thank you.” Her hand slid back to
find my knee. “I’ve been thinking the same about you since we met,
you know.”

I worked my
fingers up into her hair, grinding the tips against her scalp, and
every moment or so, I paused to draw them back through her soft
tresses.

“I hope you’re watching and learning.” She thought she teased
Joseph. Ah...she possibly
 
was.

He broke into a
smile. “Oh, I’m watching, sweetheart.” He folded his arms. “Just
forget that I’m here.”

I worked
Isobel’s shoulders and she arched back with a cry of delight.

“But I want you to
 
see,
schneemann.
”

He strode over,
pulled me up by the hand and turned me to face his lover.

Isobel’s eyes
never left mine as he drew my black knickers down my thighs, as he
knelt to slide my heels off and pull my dress away. When he stood
again, arranging my hair so it hung in ringlets round my breasts,
she smiled in rapture.

“Happy
birthday, baby.” He pushed me forward.

“I think this
is my favourite gift this year.”

I sank to my
knees and kissed Isobel. Though hesitant at first, her tongue
sought mine, slick and curious, and she tasted like the dessert
wine we’d shared not long ago. I brought her hands down to my
breasts and sighed against her lips at the squeeze. She leaned back
as I licked up her calves. By the time I reached her inner thighs,
she mewed like a kitten, and I sucked tiny mouthfuls of flesh just
hard enough to leave marks.

“Shall we take
this inside?” asked Joseph.

Rhetorical
question.

He didn’t have
a bedroom. He had a gallery, a great podium decked in white sheets,
a hall of mirrors. It wasn’t a place to sleep–it was an act of
bravery. The oil painting above his bed looked three-dimensional in
the milky light, and beneath my fingers, a headless girl writhed in
a pit of coarse vines. I stroked the thorns and they gnashed their
teeth at me.

Swish.
 
Joseph pulled the covers back and then disappeared behind us,
switching off the lamp as he went.

I stopped
Isobel by the bed. She was a little taller than me now that we were
both without heels, but still so slightly built. I toyed with the
straps on her camisole, easing them down her shoulders to reveal
the top of a cream satin bra.

“Arms up,” I
whispered. Her top fell in two peaks of froth. I kissed the
overspill from her bra, trailing my mouth down the curve of her
belly before reaching to undo her skirt. In lingerie, her skin
glistened in the barely-there light–and just as I eyed her, she
watched me too, her breath quickening at the shaved mound between
my thighs.

Isobel kissed
 
me
 
this time, kneading my hips
with her hands. I unhooked her bra and filled my palms. Her nipples
were a yummy shade of raspberry and I tightened in the knowledge
that her pussy was likely to be the same. She whimpered as I broke
away to suck on them, stroking outward with my thumbs as if I
milked her.

A shadow
materialized in the mirror behind Isobel: Joseph, bare-chested and
swinging a beer bottle between his finger and thumb. He fell into a
bucket chair a few feet away from the bed–not just a golden ticket,
but on the front row too.

Isobel’s hair
pooled on the pillows. Beside her, I nuzzled into her throat and
bit gently. My nipples sat stiffly against her arm.

“Do you like
that, Bel?” Joseph said. “When she kisses you?”

“Yes,” she
breathed.

“And when she
sucks your nipples, does that get you wet?”

Louder this
time. “Yes.”

I took the pink
tips back into my mouth, swathing them in tongue-laced kisses. My
hand crept down her stomach and rested on her satin knickers. I
pushed my fingers beneath, probing just enough to coat the tips in
her syrup, and she arched her back and moaned into my mouth as I
caught the very edge of her clit. Then I drew my hand back up and
spread the juices over her nipples, eating it off her in little
licks and bites. It was so silky on my tongue.

“Tell me how
she tastes, Leila,” Joseph said.

“Like a very
bad girl. Like gin and honey.”

The bed braced
beneath his weight. “She gets so noisy when I lick her. She squeals
like the world is falling in.” A note of amusement lulled beneath
the lust in his voice.

I kissed along
Isobel’s shoulder. Paused by her ear to whisper. “Is that what you
want? Do you want me to lick you?”

“In a moment,” she said. “First...I want
 
you
.”

I hadn’t expected her to be so forward. Another kiss,
another
 
x
 
for
our fucked little equation. “I’d like that a lot.”

“So would I,”
Joseph said, his voice just a foot away from me and the worst breed
of torment. He was close enough to cover me in those lingering
bites, but no...that wasn’t part of the lie.

Not here.

He lay beside
me as Isobel urged me onto my back. Then she straddled me, a
teasing smile on her full peach lips and her heart-shaped face
framed with hair.

Joseph pulled
my thigh aside eagerly as she drifted down. I moaned as they
exposed me. Something about that manoeuvre teased my nerves.
Victims got attacked, prey devoured; which one was I?

Isobel looked up at Joseph. “Will you tell me what to
do,
 
schneemann
? You know I’ve never done
this before...”