The Angels' Share (11 page)

The door to the bedroom wasn’t quite closed and as I walked silently down the dark, windowless passage I began to hear voices, or rather noises, that fuelled my curiosity. I didn’t dare open the door any further in case the hinges creaked but the six-inch gap was enough to take in the tangle of bodies that thrashed on the bed. With a white cotton sheet twisted and wrung out around them, Marco and a beautiful Spanish girl – to this day nameless – were violating each other’s bodies with an intensity I had never seen before.

I found it impossible to move. My feet had welded themselves to the terracotta floor and my eyes were drawn inextricably to the scene as if I, too, was one of the lovers. Marco withdrew his face from between the girl’s legs as she rocked on all fours, perhaps signalling that she wanted more. He wiped his mouth before peeling apart the lips of her sex with his thumbs and taking a close look at his work. Even from where I was standing I could see that he had engorged the hairless slivers of mahogany flesh with his kissing and transformed them into overripe plums. Marco lowered his head again and thoughtfully tilted it to the side before opening his mouth wide and taking a large bite of the fruit.

I knew what he was doing. I could feel it between my own legs as I stood gawping at the scene. Many times Marco had hoisted me into that position and devoured me from behind, always insisting that I shave myself before we began so that he could tease my lips with tiny, fragmented yet torturous licks. As I watched him doing it to someone else, I touched myself, more for consolation than anything although my fingers noticed that, remotely, I was beginning to respond.

My breathing had become, I thought, audible as my disbelief translated into short, painful gasps. I steadied myself by leaning on the cool wall but remained quite unable to walk away from the scene. Marco ordered the girl to lie on her back and she moaned something unintelligible back but obeyed his orders. It was then that I saw the full beauty of her body contrasting with the hard lines of Marco’s work-honed muscle. She was soft and full and had dark breasts that spread out across her chest as she lay back. Marco kneaded them back into place and instructed her to keep them in position while he jammed his erection into their softness. Within moments I could see the tell-tale signs on his familiar body that told me he was going to come. Marco was a selfish lover with a greedy appetite for pleasuring himself. The veins on his neck stood out of his deep tan skin like blue rivers and the way his mouth thinned and tightened told me he would orgasm at any time.

As I placed a hand on the cotton of my panties, just to prove that I was still capable of feeling, Marco ejaculated on the girl’s breasts and wasted no time in sliding off the bed and stepping out onto the veranda for a cigarette. The smell of smoke wafted through to where I was standing and it was all I could do not to cry out in surprise as the girl stared directly at me, opened her legs wide and brought herself to orgasm.

*   *   *

‘Did you and Marco split up?’ Connor’s arm ventured further around my shoulder. He thought I needed comfort.

‘For a while, yes. But being at university for the next few years made any kind of relationship difficult.’ I felt ashamed that I had never confronted Marco about his infidelity. I had excised my pain with many diary entries and much support from several of my girlfriends on campus. ‘To this day, Marco doesn’t know that I watched him having sex with another woman.’

‘So you indulged yourself with lots of other boyfriends and forgot all about the scoundrel.’ Connor let out a laugh that tried to say he didn’t care but I knew from the transparency of it that he did.

‘No, not at all. Marco is the only man I’ve ever been…’ I stopped and flushed scarlet as I suddenly remembered that Marco wasn’t the only man I’d been with at all. In fact, in the last three days I had trebled the number of sexual encounters I had ever had although I wasn’t about to announce that to Connor. On the one hand it seemed rather unadventurous having had only one lover at my age but then again, I didn’t want to announce my recent frolics and be branded easy. Also, I knew that with a couple of flirtatious sentences and a provocative rearrangement of my position next to him, I could have quadrupled my headcount and included Connor on the list.

He sighed and smiled and unfurled himself from the chair. ‘I’d better go. It’s late.’

‘And I’ve got work tomorrow.’ I was going to Creg-ny-Varn in the morning to start my new position. There was no point delaying things. If I carried on like this, Kinrade would know of my presence in no time.

‘I shan’t interfere, Ailey. It’s your business. If you want to allow Kinrade to languish in what’s rightfully yours then –’ He stopped and shook his head before fastening his jacket. He kissed me once on the cheek and opened the front door. A cold, salty wind fanned the flames in the fireplace and the noise of the waves obliterated my reply as Connor strode awkwardly across the pebbles and rocks.

‘I’m going to fight for it, Connor. We can still be king and queen.’ But my words were dragged back out to sea.

It was still dark when I got up although I could see that it was going to be one of those winter days when, if you didn’t venture out, you could truly believe it was summer. The western sky was littered with constellations and I took a few moments, despite the chilly wind, to calm myself with a mug of hot tea outside on the beach.

I had already boiled some water and washed and dressed in clean clothes. I’d pulled my long hair back into a neat pony-tail and smudged a minuscule amount of kohl under my eyes, topped off with mascara; I intended to apply lip gloss before I left. I wanted to look my best, both for Dominic and to appear professional in my new role, however menial the job.

An hour later, the first slivers of orange appeared over the cliff top and the usual morning rush hour of gulls swooped around the beach for scraps and dead fish. My aim was to be at Creg-ny-Varn before nine o’clock so even while the sun was still spilling over the horizon, I picked my way across the wet rocks to the track that led to the cliff top road. My guess that it would be a beautiful day was correct. The egg-yolk yellow of the sunrise paled and gradually transformed into a cool turquoise, the colours separated only by a wispy band of cirrus.

The walk along the cliff top road seemed shorter than usual. My pace kept time with my quickening heart as I anticipated the possibility that Ethan Kinrade could indeed be at Creg-ny-Varn, if Connor really had seen him the day before. I resolved to remain courteous, dutiful and, if necessary, servile. It would be one of the hardest things I had ever done but essential if I was to gather precious information about the man. He was my new boss and I was his maid. I would look after his needs while at the same time securing mine.

Before entering the long driveway, I squinted at the house through the pale winter-morning light. It was going to be a clear day but the sun hadn’t fully touched the island. I looked for lights in the house but saw none. Either Kinrade wasn’t home or he was still in bed. As a new employee, it wasn’t necessary to skulk through the field and enter the estate furtively so I marched down the drive, which was lined with chestnut trees under which Connor and I had once gathered conkers like hungry squirrels, and pulled the chain of the front-door bell. A shiver of memories ran the length of my spine as I heard the ghosts of our spaniels barking and my father calling out for someone to answer the front door. We had been happy once.

I rang the bell again and, when no lights flicked on, I decided to rouse attention at the rear kitchen garden door. I rapped as hard as I dared on the brittle Victorian glass but again no one answered my call. I was about to give up and see if there were signs of life at the distillery when two Labradors came bounding across the herb beds, emitting half-hearted barks and wagging their tails.

‘Ready for some hard work?’ Dominic strode around the corner with a chain of keys jangling in his hands. His expression was business-like, with none of the warmth and satisfaction he exuded at the end of our last meeting.

‘Good morning to you, too,’ I said, unable to help the grin that I hoped would remind him of our encounter. ‘I’m ready for anything you like.’

Dominic ignored my comment and proceeded to unlock the rear door. He shooed the dogs outside and ushered me into the kitchen, which was filled with the warmth of the Aga and the smell of coffee and toast.

‘He’s home then?’ I asked, my eyes scanning the spotless kitchen.

‘Like I said, Mr Kinrade won’t be back for some time. Your job is to keep the place immaculate and prepared for his return. I want every room cleaned thoroughly, all the fireplaces cleared and stocked with logs and each bed made up with fresh sheets.’ Dominic dropped the keys on the table, causing my already raw nerves to prickle with fright.

‘No problem but –’

‘And certain areas are off limits. If the door’s locked and there isn’t a key that fits, then keep out. Understand?’

I nodded. My curiosity about who had been drinking coffee and eating toast suddenly seemed inconsequential. I allowed my eyes to quickly flick up and down him. He was obviously dressed for work, and I couldn’t help it that my gaze lingered just below his waist and feasted on delightful memories. ‘What time do I finish?’

Dominic allowed a slow smile to cross his face. Not the kind of smile that invites further conversation or even a smile in return. No, it was a leer that continued to fill me with uncertainty about what I was doing; an expression that drove home the fear I thought I had overcome.

‘You’re finished when you’re finished,’ he replied and walked out of the kitchen, calling the dogs to heel.

I stood alone, gathering my thoughts and fighting back tears as the same ghosts that had met me at the front door filled the room. Being alone in the house,
my
house, and preparing to clean it from top to bottom while searching for clues and weaknesses about its owner, battered my senses more than I had bargained for. And I didn’t understand why Dominic was being so petulant, especially after the last time we had met. If he had been instructed by Kinrade to employ a maid then he should be welcoming my presence, not trying to scare me off.

I located a box of cleaning materials in a store cupboard and decided to begin my work at the top of the house. I had to search every room methodically, to gain hard evidence in the form of my father’s will or solicitors’ letters as well as build up a profile of the man I would soon be fighting in court. The third floor contained three attic rooms, which belied nothing of the fourteen years that had passed. Each piece of furniture, every storage box containing old toys and clothes and hoarded birthday and Christmas cards, remained as my parents had left them. I rifled through the contents of a couple, determined not to waste time on ancient memories, and consoled myself that there would be plenty of time for reminiscing when I moved back into Creg-ny-Varn. I opened all the windows, swatted away strings of cobwebs and brought order to the rooms by rearranging the twenty or so cartons neatly. It was evident that Kinrade had never bothered to use the top floor so, as quickly as I could, I began work in the main bedroom.

I was surprised to see that the bed was unmade, probably just as it had been left when I untied Dominic and slipped away from Creg-ny-Varn with a delicious tingle warming me. I began by stripping off the sheets and dropping them into a pile on the floor but not before pressing them to my face to inhale the remains of my masterful session with Dominic. I was surprised to find that the cotton was still strongly impregnated with the aroma of his body. I would have thought that by now only a trace of our sex would remain and that the sheets would have turned as cold and dank as the rest of the room. I shrugged and continued my work, throwing back the heavy drapes to reveal the bright, low eastern sun. Unfortunately, the light disclosed just how dusty the room was and I wondered if Ethan Kinrade had ever used the master suite since gaining possession of the property.

I uncovered the beautiful antique furniture that my father had cherished so much and applied polish to all the surfaces. Then I drew in a deep breath and opened the doors of the Jacobean carved oak wardrobe to take a good look at what a man like Kinrade would wear. I expected to see rows of tailor-made suits and designer shirts, all neatly pressed and hanging in colour order. I knew that a man in his position would want to impress with fine garments so nothing could have prepared me for the basic display, in fact hardly any clothes at all, that hung limply off two wire coat hangers.

‘Who would have thought…?’ I said to myself in amazement. A ripped pair of jeans slid to the floor of the wardrobe as I reached out a hand to make my first physical contact with the man I hated most in the world. I noticed a crust of mud around the hems as I hung them back up. Two thick shirts shared another hanger while a well-worn sweater languished at the back of the dusty cupboard. ‘Money a bit tight, eh?’ I asked an imaginary Kinrade. ‘Can’t afford any pretty clothes now you’ve got this place to look after?’ I laughed, already feeling one up as I remembered my father constantly worrying about paying the bills. I shut the doors and turned to the mahogany chest that I assumed would be filled with neat rows of underwear. I was wrong again. Aside from a silk cravat and a couple of mothballs, the drawers contained…

I gasped and my thoughts slewed to an abrupt halt. I actually closed the chest and reopened it just to make sure that what I saw was real. I might have taken the empty box and tossed it in the rubbish bin or even ignored it completely had the picture on the carton not been of an erect penis strapped up in a kind of horse’s bridle. The faceless male model stood proudly beside a scantily dressed blonde woman who held a lead connected to the leather penis strapping by a metal ring. I had never seen the likes of such a contraption and had I not been desperate to find out anything I could about Ethan Kinrade, I would have shut the drawer in fright.

‘Good heavens,’ I whispered in disbelief and picked up the box, thankful that the contents had been removed. ‘Who
would
have thought?’

The leather cock harness, as the box boasted, wasn’t the only unusual item to be found in the chest. A pair of handcuffs graced the next drawer down, along with several black leather straps that must have been used for many spanking sessions, judging by their frayed edges. I picked one up and ran the split ends of the leather between my fingers. I tried to imagine who had held the studded handle and across whose flank the leather had slapped. I brought the implement to my face and inhaled the smell, trying to garner its history. The raw odour coupled with the mystery of finding such an object sent shivers through me as I envisaged the thrills it must have delivered.

But it wasn’t the role of recipient that excited me. I walked over to the bed and raised my arm high above my head, bringing the strap down with full force onto the sheets.

‘
One
, Mr Kinrade,’ I counted, ‘for being such a dirty, low-down scumbag.’ I ran the leather between my fingers again, my eyes narrowing as I prepared for a second swipe at the imaginary man’s ass stripped bare by my own hands. ‘
Two
,’ and I lashed him again, ‘because I want to chase your sorry behind off the island and
three
–’

‘Three – because you’d like to whip and tease your poor, helpless boss before fucking him senseless?’

I spun around, my arm raised high ready to deliver another blow to my imaginary Kinrade’s smarting skin and was confronted by Dominic standing in the doorway, hands on hips wearing that same smirk as if it hadn’t yet left his face. I froze for a second, maybe two, but then began beating the bed for all I was worth.

‘Can you believe the dust in this place?’ I said with a smile. The lump in my throat and the sudden dryness of my mouth made it hard to speak. A dizzy cloud of dust motes shimmied through a shaft of sunlight that struck across the room and for a moment I was hopeful that Dominic believed I was intent on airing the bed. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll have it ship-shape in no time.’

‘You don’t look the type,’ he said. His slow advance was even more menacing than if he’d strode up to me and yanked the strap from my grasp. A sparkle, like sunlight on the sea, glinted in his eyes. ‘A slender girl like you wielding a harsh instrument with such force seems unlikely.’

‘Well, when there’s cleaning to be done,’ I chirped and raised my arm for another lashing but Dominic grabbed it in mid-arc and squeezed my wrist so hard that I had no choice but to let the leather fall to the bed.

‘You don’t strike me as the dominant kind but then you don’t look much like a maid either.’ He reached for the strap and held it in front of my face. I cowered, afraid he would be angry with me for prying in Mr Kinrade’s belongings and punish me with the leather. ‘Having said that,’ he continued, brushing the implement over my lips and down between my breasts, ‘you do have a certain way with this.’ To my surprise, he replaced the strap in my hand and tightened my fingers around the handle. He sat down on the bed, the weight of his body sinking into the messed-up quilt. ‘Don’t let me stop you,’ he continued. ‘I only came by to tell you that I’ve left some cut foliage in the kitchen that I thought you could arrange to brighten up the place.’

Now I was confused. The harsh tones, the scowl and disapproving manner had disappeared. Dominic was talking about foliage and sitting on the bed looking as if he had nothing better to do although the glint in his eyes remained, suggesting that he was lingering with intent. Still clutching the leather strap, I began to unfold the new sheets in a futile attempt to appear busy, when something stirred inside me: an early warning of latent thrill that I had only ever explored within the pages of my lost journal. Was Connor really right in his assumptions? Had my secret yearnings been tipped into reality? Was this why the moisture between my legs had not stopped seeping since the moment I arrived on the island?

It took me a moment to comprehend that it was I who had caused the loud snap as the leather connected with the wooden bedpost. I waited for Dominic to stand up in disgust and order me to get on with my work but he didn’t. He shifted uncomfortably and offered a small smile when I trailed the tool up his muddy jeans, over his chest and under his chin.

‘Lie down,’ I whispered and then brought the strap down hard on the bed, missing him by only an inch. ‘Now!’

Trying to understand the thrill of Dominic obeying my order was pointless. There were many things I couldn’t comprehend in my life so I decided to allow instinct to overcome reason and made a promise to myself that I would seek the return of my diary as a matter of urgency, to halt any further incidents of irrational behaviour. When I had finished with Dominic, that was.

‘Unfasten your jeans and turn over.’ I wasn’t sure where this was going. All I knew was that my mind had been set alight by the imagined sight of Ethan Kinrade’s bare ass on this bed and me administering a damn good thrashing. A substitute would have to suffice and if that meant venting my frustration, sexual or otherwise, on Dominic then I was prepared to face the consequences. And besides, he appeared to be doing exactly as he was told.