Sharing Nicely (14 page)

I was happy to watch the goings on around me. There was a jovial atmosphere behind the masks—I was sure most people could tell who they were talking to, but still, it added a little playfulness to the event. I wondered how many people would pluck up the courage to flirt with a person behind the safety curtain of their papier-mâché mask.

I plucked a glass from a tray that was offered to me and thanked the young girl before she waltzed off on her way. I admired her balance and poise, I was sure I’d have dropped a tray of champagne flutes if I’d attempted to carry them. Greg was still deep in conversation. I didn’t mind too much, it was clearly a good opportunity for him to catch up with a serious business associate.

I watched those in the centre of the room dancing to what even I with my lax knowledge of classical music knew was a Viennese Waltz. Maybe I’d watched an episode or two too many of
Strictly Come Dancing
. I wasn’t sure it was totally time appropriate but the orchestral music, coming from a surprisingly small number of musicians huddled at one end of the hall, certainly sounded suitably classic for such a gathering.

“Sorry about that.” Greg turned to me. “I thought it was best to get the business out of the way as soon as possible. Now I can focus on having a good time with you.”

“Sounds fabulous to me,” I replied with a huge grin. “This is amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He pulled me into his body, and cupped his hand around my shoulder. “I’ve been to a few of the Conte’s masquerades now but each time I’m taken by the scale and magnificence of it all.”

We stood and watched for a while then Greg relieved me of my glass and dragged me to the centre of the ballroom.

“I can’t dance,” I squealed. “Greg, I can’t.”

“Hush,” he said. “Just follow my lead. It’s a slow one, you’ll be fine.”

He clutched my waist and I laid a hand on his shoulder. The other hand he gripped tenderly in his hand and led me forward with a gentle tug.

I was going to protest, but as the music started I found myself too absorbed in not standing on anyone’s toes to think about talking. It took a minute or so, but I did eventually get the hang of the steps.

“See”—he smirked—“I knew you’d get it.”

I smiled at him. I was still not sure I could talk and dance at the same time, but I had to concede he was right. I enjoyed being swung around the floor, albeit elegantly, by his strong, demanding touch. I tingled with arousal as I followed his steps—our bodies barely touched but it felt like elaborate foreplay. He stared deep into my eyes when I finally lifted my head from looking at my feet and I could see the lust simmering in his expression behind his shiny, blue mask.

My dress moved magically around me, I didn’t snag it once and the swishing made me feel lighthearted and free. I began to enjoy myself as I felt the music and didn’t worry so much about the steps. When the song finished Greg and I stepped aside.

“When did you learn to dance?” I asked.

“Oh, early on. I had a girlfriend who was aristocracy. I needed to learn to dance to attend an event with her. She was a complete cow, but I will be forever thankful for the dancing lessons.”

“You’re very good,” I whispered in his ear when he stopped to pick up a canapé from a silver tray held out by a butler. “I think you’ve got the hips for it.”

“So have you,” he returned, squeezing my waist with one hand and eating the caviar-decorated nibble in one bite.

“How long do we have to stay?” I asked. “I mean, it’s fun but I’d prefer to dance with you naked, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I know what you mean,” he growled and pulled me into a full embrace. I flushed. I wasn’t sure his rough behaviour was suitable for such a setting. No one seemed to have noticed us, though. “But I think we can hang around here and have some fun still. Follow me.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah, really.” He leant forward and kissed me. I wondered what kind of fun he meant. Surely sex was out of the question.

He pulled back after a long, slow kiss that curled my toes in their fine satin confines and pulled me behind him towards a table in the corner of the room that was laid out with edible delights. I looked at them and thought it would be great fun to eat but it wasn’t quite what I needed to satisfy my appetite at that moment.

“Take a plate,” Greg whispered in my ear, “and some food, then stand right here, by the wall.”

I didn’t know what he had planned but I followed his directions. One moment he was beside me then he wasn’t. I picked a few items off the table and stood, plate in hand, at the very end of the trestle, back to the wall and side to the table. I picked at the food before me. I wasn’t vastly hungry and even though the morsels were elegant and delicious I was too nervy to truly appreciate them.

What was Greg up to? As I watched the party twirling around me I realised one of the things I loved about Greg was that he kept me guessing. He was definitely not predictable.

I jumped when I felt my skirt being lifted at my side. I looked down and saw a blue shoulder between my dress and the white of the table. The pattern was very familiar and after a few seconds Greg was beneath my skirt.

I didn’t know what to do. I tried to look nonchalant. I hoped no one had noticed what he’d done. I looked around me and conversations continued, the music played and dancers danced. It seemed that he’d pulled off the stealthy move.

Warm fingers curled around my ankle and I tried not to move. A strong hand travelled up my calf, onto my thigh and higher. I glanced around and smiled. I tried to give away nothing as Greg’s touch rose between my thighs and he stroked over the crotch of my knickers.

I held fast, braced myself against the onslaught of arousal that coursed through me from his continued stroking. I didn’t want to drop my plate, or knock the table or do anything else to draw attention. I remembered the food in my hand and decided I should at least try to eat something, just in case someone noticed.

I lifted a crisp piece of bread to my lips, smelling the creamy mozzarella and sharp tomato that sat on top of my bruschetta, along with the herbal hint of basil. I just had the tempting bite at lip level when Greg’s questing finger found its way under the lace of my pretty underwear and into the warm cleft beneath. I moaned and hoped people would think it was at the delicious nature of the food.

I put the bread down again without taking a bite because he pressed on. His fingers sank into my giving flesh and I stretched around to accommodate him. His fingers repetitively sank into me and with each thrust I was certain my knees were going to give way under me and I’d collapse down onto him. I felt the fine satin of his jacket against my inner thigh and was aware of him shifting beneath me. His other arm wrapped over my hip and his other fingers dipped down into the groove of my pubis. His face was pressed against my buttocks, I could feel his breath moistening the back of my knickers and combined with the pressure on my clit and his fingers inside me I was as close to undone as a woman could be in so many clothes. I had to hold myself straight and try not to pant or moan out loud. I prayed no one would approach me. There was a crowd around, a queue of people along the buffet and many of them were within earshot. It was almost impossible to control the ecstasy that whizzed around my body as I built speedily to a climax.

I had to close my eyes when the orgasm overtook me. He bit my arse as I came and I bit hard down on my lip to stop from yelping. The pain of his teeth in my flesh carried the pleasure to the next level. I shook and shuddered and flicked open my eyes as soon as I could.

“Are you okay, miss?” a tall, thin old man in a black plague doctor mask asked.

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Just a little warm, that’s all.”

The gentleman nodded. “You should get some fresh air, dear.”

“I will,” I replied, aware of Greg pulling his fingers from within me and replacing the crotch of my underwear to where it should be.

The kindly gentleman wandered off and I put my plate down on the table. I was sure I was going to drop it because I shook with the relief flowing through me.

“Enjoy that?” Greg appeared at my elbow and made me jump.

“Yes,” I said with a nod, “and no. You’re wicked.”

“I am,” he replied with a huge grin and a gloating laugh.

“I will have to plot my revenge,” I continued. “But right now I need fresh air.”

Greg led me over to a huge set of doors at the far end of the room but just when I felt the stirrings of a cooling breeze through the open door, the Conte stepped out and stopped Greg in his tracks.

“Greg, I’ve got someone I’d love you to meet.” The Conte smiled brightly and Greg looked at me then back at the man before him.

“Sure, Conte.” He smiled. “It would be a pleasure. Just one moment, please.” He turned to me and continued in a bright, light tone. “Go outside for a breath of fresh air, I’ll join you in a moment. Wait for me on the balcony, okay?”

“Sure.” I smiled. “Don’t be long. I’m starting to tire, I think I need to go to bed.”

I gave him a playful smirk and he nodded. Greg walked back into the push of the crowd and I headed out of the impressive hall into the cool of the Venetian evening.

I was surprised by the length of the balcony when I reached the outside. It seemed to run the whole length of the building, with the one set of doors I’d walked out of and another farther along that could only go into a completely different room. There were a number of people on the balcony. A few couples cuddled together, oblivious to everything around them, and the odd single figure stared out over the canal below.

It was quiet and cool and I found a space along the railing to look out over the water myself. The cold air soothed my burning cheeks. I took in deep breaths. It had been a risky manoeuvre, but Greg was a man who did such things without thought. He wasn’t the kind of person to let propriety dictate what he could or couldn’t do.

I smiled. It might have scared the life out of me at the time, but it had also been one of the most intense orgasms of my life and it was certainly one I’d always remember. I was happy and I’d not even thought about work in nearly two days. I was mentally taking note to ring Taylor in the morning when I became aware of someone beside me.

I looked to the left and a man dressed all in black leaned there. He looked a bit like Zorro, which really didn’t seem to fit in with the opulent, historical theme. I looked away again and a few seconds later I felt something hard poking at my side.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

I froze. I knew that voice but surely it was too much of a coincidence.

“What? Cat got your tongue, Kerry? I know I have this stupid mask on but surely the ginger hair gives me away.”

“Darren?”

“One and the same.”

I looked to the side and yes, it was him. The bright hair, the cocky smirk.

“So, what are you doing here?” I started casually. I really wanted to run like billy-o to find Greg. If he saw me with his rival, God knew how he’d react.

“I’m here for you. Let’s go.”

“Darren, we’ve been over this.” I sighed. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m here with Greg.”

“Except he’s in there and you’re not. So that’s not technically true. Also, I’ve got a gun pressed to the bottom of your ribs. I really don’t want to hurt you but I do want to talk to you, alone. So, I suggest you turn slowly and walk towards the exit over there.”

My heart stopped, or so it felt, then leapt up into my throat. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe. Suddenly my floaty frock was a prison and it constricted my chest painfully. All I could feel was that weight at my hip. All I could think of was that I was seconds away from being dead.

I had no choice, I honestly couldn’t think of anything to do but to walk slowly towards the other door.

“Good girl,” he growled, and I prayed that Greg would walk out and see. I prayed that something heavy would fall from the sky directly on his head. Anything at all to stop me in my tracks. Sadly, nothing happened. We negotiated our way through the house down to the canal. Of course, there was a water taxi waiting and no one, not a single person pointed out that I was leaving with a different man than I had arrived with.

“What are you doing, Darren?” I asked when finally the taxi pulled away.

“I’m enjoying a little break in Venice, Kerry, what about you?”

“Well, apparently I’m being kidnapped by a big kid who can’t take it when a woman tells him no.”

“Who also has a fucking gun aimed at you, Kerry. You might want to take that into account before you throw insults about.” Darren waved said gun around and I shut up because I had no idea if there were bullets in it or not but I didn’t want to take the chance.

My mind whirred. I didn’t have a phone on me—I was in an old-style dress and had had nowhere to put it. I certainly didn’t have any pigeons on me to send with a message and although I knew how to do an SOS in semaphore I had nothing to dot dot dash dash with. I was stuck.

“So, I saw you and Greg in the newspaper this morning, here in Venice, enjoying yourselves and looking all in love. Up to that moment I’d almost forgotten about you, how you broke my heart.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d shagged him a time or two, yes, but there had never been the emotional connection between Darren and I that I enjoyed with Greg. How could he say I’d broken his heart?