One Week in the Private House (18 page)

The picture dissolved and re-formed to reveal Flora on her knees before Antonio, struggling to lower his trunks over the massive bulge they contained. 'What a big hose you've got!' she exclaimed, with a wink towards the camera, which moved in for a series of loving close-ups of Flora's full lips and wide mouth as she kissed, licked and sucked the thick brown shaft. Jem studied the screen, and decided that she could detect no trace of unwillingness in the girl's expression or behaviour; on the contrary, she seemed to be enjoying her performance, and glanced frequently towards the camera to make sure that her every lick and nibble was being recorded on film. Jem reached down at her side, into Headman's lap, and her fingers met a rising hardness.

On the screen the picture had changed again. Flora was on her back on the towel, writhing and laughing as Antonio tried to tickle her between the legs; whenever she prevented him from doing so, by turning on to her stomach or holding her hands over her sex, he would give a playful slap or pinch to whichever of her breasts or buttocks came within reach. 'Stop it, Antonio!' she shrieked. 'We're going to have to find somewhere to put that big hose of yours, aren't we?'

The youth watched as the young woman lifted her legs into the air, bending her knees so that her thighs were drawn up to her shoulders. Her arse was taut, rounded, and open; her raw split and the puckered hole beneath it were stretched wide, on display. The camera lingered over her body before zooming in to her face.

'Do you want to put your hose in here?' she asked, her blue eyes sparkling. She slowly inserted two fingers into the O of her lips. She withdrew the wetly glistening fingers, then plunged them back into her mouth as far as the knuckles. The camera followed her hand as she moved it from her face, across her breasts, down her ribs, and round her tightly-bent hip.

'Or would you like to put it here?' her voice teased, as the screen showed a close-up of her fingertips sliding up and down the slick lips of her sex. And then her fingers slowly disappeared into the slit, emerged again, went in again more quickly and more deeply, and then began to move in and out at an ever-increasing rate as her amplified voice on the soundtrack gasped and moaned to a crescendo.

'Or perhaps,' her voice whispered after a pause, 'perhaps you'd like to put your hose in here.' And her lubricated fingers slid from her sex-channel and came to rest in the crater of her arsehole.

'Stop! Stop the damned thing, for the love of God!' Morton was almost sobbing. Without waiting for Headman's nudge, Jem jumped up and switched off the television. Morton was sitting slumped on the couch with his head in his hands; the masked girl was next to him, sitting upright and very still. Jem tried to smile encouragement at her, and returned to the arm of Headman's chair.

Morton lifted his head. 'What was the point of that?' he pleaded. 'What have you done to my Flora? And why? She's not much more than a child. Why did you have to involve her? What do you hope to achieve?'

'I want your shareholdings,' Headman said, reaching up to fondle Jem's breasts through the silver net. 'I want you to sell me the lot, for a hundred grand.'

'Why the hell should I?' Morton roared.

Headman turned his gaze to the crimson-lipped blonde, and held out his hand. The girl rose, walked slowly round the desk, and lowered herself on to Headman's lap. Headman kissed her cheek, whispered a few words, and then removed the all-enveloping mask from her face.

'Hello, Roderick,' she said.

Morton stared. When at last he spoke, his voice was a ghostly croak. 'Flora?' he said. 'Your hair ...'

Jem ruffled Flora's blonde locks. 'Dyed,' she said, 'You understand, Mr Morton, that we had to prevent you from recognising her.'

Morton was looking ill. 'Last night . . .' he gasped, and sat motionless with his mouth hanging open.

'I'm sorry, Roderick
⁴
,' Flora said, squirming more from embarrassment than from the squeezing of Headman's fingers round her nipples. They made me do it - well, to start with, anyway. But they only want your silly old stocks and shares. And I like it here now. Everyone's nice to me. Even when they're doing horrible things to me, they're being nice really. This is my home now, Roddy, you must understand, please!' Jem wiped a tear from the girl's cheek.

There was a long silence. At last Morton snorted an ironic laugh. 'I'm not a quitter,' he said. 'You've got a dirty video with me in it: use it! I'll say it's a fake. I'll admit it's genuine, if I have to. I don't care. You've got my ward. You've seduced my poor wee Flora to your evil ways. But there's no helping it. She's a grown lass, and she'll have to live with what she's done. As for last night ... I don't see that I have to blame myself for that. I did what I did unknowingly. That's no legal defence, I know, and I'll never forgive myself either. But it won't make me give up my shares, do you hear me? You've lost, Headman!'

Jem looked down at Headman. This, she knew from the briefing paper she had read, was as far as Headman had planned. He had no more cards to play. She guessed that behind his impassive features his mind was searching desperately for one more ace, and that he was failing to find it. She touched his shoulder, and leant to whisper in his ear. 'Look after Flora,' she said. 'She needs a cuddle. Comfort her. Leave Morton to me.'

Jem lowered herself on to the couch and looked at the man sitting beside her. He stared straight ahead, his eyes blank, his fists clenched. Jem pitied him; but she tucked her emotions into the back of her mind, and summoned a calm determination. This has to be finished, she told herself; and I know I can do it. She rested her hand on Morton's.

'Mr Morton,' she said, cramming each word with all the sincerity and concern she could muster, 'you still don't understand. Flora is ours now, I'm sure you see that. But you belong to us too. No one ever leaves the Private House; you can go outside, but you can never leave.'

Morton turned to her, his eyes once again betraying uncertainty. 'What do you mean?'

'You're right: the videos don't compromise you.
You
're compromised inside. You enjoyed last night; you revelled in everything you did. You'd do it all again if you had the chance. You know you would. And we'll give you the chance. Over and over again. Here, and at your office, and in your home.'

'You'll need more dirt than you've got here, young lady.'

'And we have more, Mr Morton.'

'I'm a strong-willed fellow. I can stand up to anything.'

'Anything, Mr Morton? Even the disclosure, with evidence, that you've sexually abused your ward, placed in your care by the courts for her protection, all through her childhood?'

Morton tried to laugh. 'But that's a lie. Who says so?'

'Look at Flora,' said Jem, turning her gaze towards Headman's swivel chair.

Morton's ward was sitting in Headman's lap, leaning backwards against him, her eyes squeezed shut and her red mouth smiling as the Master nuzzled her neck and worked his fingers between her widely-parted thighs.

'She didn't wear her mask all the time last night,' Jem said, without having the slightest idea whether or not this had been the case. 'While you were, involved elsewhere about her person, shall we say, she showed her face for the benefit of the camera. I think a jury would recognise her.'

Morton shook his head from side to side. Jem steeled herself to continue.

'And do you think she would hesitate to swear that you've been tampering with her ever since she was a little girl? Look at her, Mr Morton. Look at her enjoying what the Master's doing to her.'

Morton pursed his lips. Jem could almost see the images that were going through his mind: the court appearances, the newspaper headlines, the cramped cell of a rule 43 prisoner, the disgust on the faces of family, friends, and colleagues, the resignations from directorships, the expulsions from clubs. 'All right,' he said at last, his voice calm and steady, 'you've got me.'

'I'll make it easy for*you,' Jem said. 'You can set up a trust for Flora. You and the Master will be the trustees.

Transfer everything into the trust. We'll help each other, Mr Morton: we don't want to ruin your companies. Quite the reverse. We own more than you can possibly imagine, and we have the resources to make your companies more successful than you have ever dreamt. Join us!'

Morton nodded, his eyes revealing acceptance of defeat but also a re-awakened interest in the future. Jem offered him her hand; he shook it.

First rule of a successful negotiation, Jem thought, is always to leave the other fellow with the bus fare home.

'Can I ask a favour?' Jem said as she and Headman walked hand in hand through the woods.

'After that performance, Jem? You've given me Roderick Morton. You can have anything you like, within reason.'

'There's a new Security trainee. She's been here before, but she's new to Security. Her name's Julia. And she's very cute. Can she be my bodyguard?'

'Do you need a bodyguard, Jem?'

'Of course not. But I want Julia.'

Then you shall have her, my dear. I'll call Chief Anderson immediately.'

'So she's definitely a spy.' Chief Anderson switched off the video monitors and swivelled in his chair to face Julia and Asmita. 'You've done well, both of you - for a trainee and a field operative. Everything in your reports, and everything we've taped, points the same way: Lucy Larson is not what she seems.'

'And what is she really, Chief?' Julia asked.

'If I knew, I'd tell you. I've got people working on it, but until we can find out her real name we can only guess. She has to be from either the police or one of the intelligence agencies, unless she's a private eye working for someone who's looking for a missing relative. In a way, it doesn't matter which. What matters is that she doesn't find out the truth.'

'But if she goes outside again,' Asmita said, 'and talks about her suspicions ...'

'We'll maintain surveillance,' Anderson said. 'Here and outside. We can deal with trouble if we have to. For the moment, we'll keep her on camera. And we'll rely on you, Asmita, a little longer. Go to her this evening. Keep her occupied.'

'A pleasure, Chief.'

'What about me, Chief?' Julia asked. 'Lucy will become even more suspicious if I'm absent from the Club.'

'That's too bad. I've new orders for you. You're to report to the Master's chambers this evening.'

'The Master!' Julia was surprised, excited, and more than a little nervous. 'What does he want me for? He doesn't know me. I mean, I've never actually met him -'

'Orders is orders, Julia. You don't question a summons from upstairs.'

Three pairs of eyes glanced upwards, as if they could penetrate the stone vault of the Security cellars, the lofty expanse of the Great Hall, the guest apartments above it, and into the Master's sanctum at the summit of the Round Tower.

'So that's it,' Chief Anderson said, rising to his feet and walking to the door. 'But as you're both here, and there's a few minutes before the end of the afternoon shift...' He turned the key in the lock and returned to his desk. 'Wat-kins!' he called into the intercom. I'm not to be disturbed!'

Asmita, smiling mischievously, had already shrugged off her chiffon sari. Anderson picked up the short strip of plaited black leather that lay on his desk. 'Where's your flicker, Julia?' he said. Julia pulled an identical implement from her belt. 'Good girl,' Anderson said. 'Keep it always at the ready. It's time you had some practice with it. Not the desk, Asmita; I want you on my chair. Kneeling on it, you silly girl: face the back and put your knees on the arms of the chair.'

Chief Anderson's executive chair was a sturdy piece of furniture; it remained upright while Asmita mounted it, and its arms were wide enough to support her knees. Anderson instructed the Asian girl to lean forward so that her small, brown-capped breasts were perched on the back of the chair, and then he swivelled the chair so that Julia was presented with the delightful vista of Asmita's outthrust hemispheres, her taut thighs, and the swelling underhang between them.

'Ready, Julia?' Anderson said, unbuttoning the tight gauze covering his groin and releasing his already upright member. 'Remember 'to start gently and build up slowly. When you get into your stride, don't get carried away: try not to leave marks, and ease up on any stroke that looks like it's going to land on her plump little cunt. Ill look after her tits. All right?'

'Absolutely, Chief,' Julia said, and positioned herself slightly to the side of the chair. She rested her flicker across the middle of Asmita's cheeks, and allowed the thin leather cylinder to roll down the brown skin until its tip was resting against the dark slit in the hollow below her bottom.

The Asian girl turned her head and smiled over her shoulder. 'Go on,' she said, 'enjoy yourself.'

'I'll try not to hurt you too much, honestly.'

'That's all right. I like it, as long as you don't mark me. I'm more worried about what the Chiefs going to do to my titties - oh!' Asmita's exclamation was of surprise, not pain: Chief Anderson had leant forward to take one of her large brown nipples into his mouth. He began to suck rhythmically, and Asmita threw back her head.

Julia watched for a few seconds, and then lifted her flicker. She took aim, and brought the leather down in a lazy stroke that landed with a soft slap across the centre of Asmita's right buttock. The girl glanced back, and hollowed her back a little more, inviting Julia to continue.