The Golden Locket (Unbreakable Trilogy, Book 2) (20 page)

In the den, where all was quiet, I took some close-ups of the strangers, now fully dressed again in their masks and dinner jackets, sitting in various haughty attitudes around the room, holding up glasses of blood-red ruby port, the scene lit only by the flickering light of the fire. It felt like the middle of the night. I kicked off my shoes and sat down. It had been a fantastic lunch and my working day was over before teatime – I felt totally relaxed. All I wanted was for Gustav to come back for me so we could wander home and chuckle over my success.

‘None of us stags is going home until tomorrow. So how about a nightcap for the lady snapper?’ The groom took a small, bulbous bottle of golden liquid and filled three glasses.

‘In the middle of the afternoon?’ I asked drowsily.

‘There are no clocks in Club Crème. Haven’t you noticed?
Prost!
’ the blond one said with a grin, holding up his drink. He turned to his friend the groom. ‘How was it for you in the bar just now? That hooker’s mouth wrapped round your cock to show whose was biggest while the other girl took her from behind with the dildo?’

The others all roared with ribald laughter. I choked as the brandy went down the wrong way.

I was also blushing. I fiddled with the CD player on the table beside me, and some soft piano music filled the room.

‘You thought those strippers were hot, didn’t you?’ The blond one topped up my glass. ‘You thought the camera was hiding you, but I could see it in your face. You wanted a piece of that action.’

‘They were gorgeous, sure, high-class, but that’s what you guys pay for at the Club Crème.’ I shifted on my chair. ‘I just had a job to do.’

‘Anyone with eyes and a pulse would fancy those girls,’ the blond man said. ‘They were worth every penny. Pity they had another gig to go to. I reckon we should fetch them back here.’

‘I have a great set of photographs to keep you going, though,’ I reminded them. ‘Bet I could turn you on every bit as well as they can.’

I couldn’t believe I’d just said that.

They were all staring at me. Tall, well-built men. Still masked, but Gustav had told me you had to be good-looking to get into this club, and he wasn’t joking. The blond man closest to me was unsettling me. Everything was unsettling me. It was the middle of the day, yet we were underground and the room was in semi-darkness. There was barely any light in any area of the club. Another club rule. But this guy was starting to look familiar.

‘Your photographs, or you?’ The groom had a boyish laugh. ‘Oh, I have no doubt you could make us hard all over again. As you say, only top-quality pussy is permitted through these portals.’

I thought I could hear Gustav’s voice speaking somewhere along the corridor. He’d be back in a moment. I needed him here. Now. The alcohol was turning my brain to couscous. It felt too damn good, these gorgeous young men preening themselves like the principals in an Oscar Wilde play. Lust scrawled all over their masculine features.

I responded in the best way I know. By raising my camera. They all started clowning around again, arranging themselves into dissolute Byronic poses around the central figure of the groom, all arrogant profiles and languid limbs, half lit by the dying fire. And when they flung their dinner jackets back to put their hands on their hips I could see the hard outlines pushing inside their black suit trousers.

I put down the camera. My head swam as the brandy warmed my veins and the men grew silent. Their eyes glittered through the plain black Batman-style masks.

I walked unsteadily back to the fireplace, pushed in between the two guys who had resumed their positions there, and stared at myself in the gilt mirror. My hair was still pinned up, just, but my cheeks were flushed, my heavily mascara’d eyes huge and wild, and my lips were smudged and parted as if I was out of breath. I was the only one unmasked.

‘Come on. Admit you fancied a little bit of girl-on-girl action yourself? Just hearing you say it would make me hard.’ The blond man glanced at me sideways, and through my tipsiness his deep American drawl nagged at me. ‘This club is all about hedonism, after all.’

‘God, man, you’re like a dog with a bone!’ The groom wagged his finger. ‘Can’t you see how uncomfortable she’s getting?’

‘I am a little tired, boys,’ I murmured, clutching at the mantelpiece as the room shifted in the mirror behind me. ‘And I have another meeting tonight.’

‘Lucky client, whoever he is. Hey. You’re free to leave, whenever you like,’ one of the Robinsons remarked.

‘Except you have a bone that needs relieving, Robinson,’ the blond one chuckled, running his hand over his own crotch. ‘We all do.’

The room went quiet. They were well-bred men prepared to act like a pack of dogs at a given signal but, as with any dog, that signal would have to come from me. Two of them were standing possessively on either side of me. I was so hyped up now that even the slightly rough fabric of their black dinner jackets rubbing on my bare arms aroused me. Or maybe it was the visual proof that they were all hard. I felt sexy and naughty, and drunk.

Hurry up, Gustav, before I do something stupid.

As I stood there with my mouth still open, the blond one suddenly took my head in his hands and pressed his lips on my mouth. I could feel how smooth and boyish his skin was compared to the rough bristles on Gustav’s chin. As his mouth opened to push in his tongue I pulled away.

‘You frigid or something?’

That was the word my oafish ex from Devon, Jake, had used to taunt me when I finished with him. Something red and raw flared up inside me. I lifted my chin. ‘You couldn’t be more wrong. Just ask Mr Levi.’

‘We would if he was in here, but the poor fool thinks it’s safe to leave you alone with us. So, if you’re not frigid, show us what you can do in front of the camera.’

‘You bastard,’ breathed the groom, watching us. ‘You know I had my eye on her.’

I kept my eyes on my own reflection. If only he knew what his future bride Emilia was really like. I smiled at myself in the mirror, a very wide, wet smile, and fanned out my fingers to cup my breasts over the luxurious red velvet. I felt the bounce of my heartbeat as I started to squeeze.

The men’s tongues were running across their mouths. The two spokesmen moved away from the fire, went to sit on two armchairs.

‘That’s the idea,’ one of them growled. ‘We knew you were a dirty little ho!’

I hesitated, looking down at the flushed faces reflected behind me, the bulges in their trousers, and here it came, the coiling naughtiness between my legs.

I started to push the red dress off my shoulder, relishing the embrace of its soft rich fabric upon my pale skin. I pulled it down to the matching red bra, aware that my heavy breathing was making my breasts swell out of the red lace.

The men were obviously excited now. It occurred to me that they could have any woman they wanted. A phone could be picked up and a high-class hooker could be here within minutes, but Serena Folkes wasn’t one of those. She was just a respectable girl like their sister, or girlfriend, or wife.

Except the sisters, wives and girlfriends were tucked away at home.

I unfastened the one hook that held the dress together, cocking my leg so that the dress fell open. Then I wriggled a little, freed my breasts from the lacy cups. They fell heavily forward. I unclipped the bra and flung it across the room as the red dress slithered right down to the thick carpet.

The stags were openly massaging their crotches now.

My breasts were jutting forward, wobbling with my rapid heartbeat, bare and full and swollen with excitement.

I started to stroke and knead, gently at first, then more firmly. My hands were all that covered them. The men swore crudely, bodies rigid with expectation. I could make them fight over me. I didn’t care which one of them had me first. All I wanted was something big and hard very, very soon.

‘Do you think she’ll let us?’ the groom whined. He sounded as if he was far away, and his voice had descended several octaves. ‘Do you think that sergeant-major she brought with her will mind?’

The others guffawed. I had started something I couldn’t possibly wriggle out of now. Where was Gustav, for goodness’ sake? And what would he say when he came back? I flicked at my nipples, moaning out loud at the sudden quick burn.

‘God, I’d heard that you were not only talented but sensational-looking, too. That amazing hair. That skin! So fuckable! So
not
a vestal virgin!’ The blond man ran his fingers through his curls, now tight with sweat. Of course. The words ‘vestal virgin’ were a deliberate jarring reference to the last time we met. He knew exactly who I was. And I knew exactly who he was, too, but it was too late to back out and certainly too late to give in to the shock. All I could do was pretend that I had no idea who he was. That he was faceless, like everyone in this room.

The others were muttering to each other now. ‘I’m going to explode if I don’t do something with this boner!’

A surge of panic mingled with excitement pounded through me as the men nudged each other. Piano music wound around the room from the CD player as I swayed and caressed my breasts more seductively, and then as the blond guy surreptitiously unzipped his flies I saw the door opening.

Gustav’s black eyes caught mine through the fire-flickered gloom. He paused and sussed the situation. My hands stopped. The guys pressed their crotches.

And then Gustav gave one quick nod.

I turned slowly from the mirror. I needed to face him while I did this. The men were perfectly aware of the new voyeur, but they were too far gone to pay attention. They were expecting me to behave like a stripper, and that’s what I was going to do. I was going to be someone else, just for tonight.

I walked across to the middle of the small room, bent my knee and kicked off my knickers. I had bare legs and a shiny new Brazilian.

A low, guttural stream of obscenities flowed from everyone, but it was the blond guy who leaned forward, took me by the hips and pulled me towards him. My crotch was in his face now. His hands stroked up the back of my legs. I pushed and felt his breath blow across the bare skin. I started to sway my hips, desire pulsating through me, but I kept my eyes on Gustav.

The blond guy grasped my buttocks, pulling me right to his mouth. Gustav leaned against the bookcase full of leather-bound books, his features etched in stone.

The blond man’s tongue touched me. My knees started to buckle as I tipped myself against his face. Ripples of pleasure matched the flicking of his tongue. Then I moaned and pulled away.

I was bottling it. I couldn’t let him lick me with Gustav watching. But I couldn’t stop the mounting excitement either. So I played it up, wagged my finger – ‘no, no, no’ – then swiped that same finger where the blond man’s tongue had been, and danced for my boys instead.

Gustav’s mouth was partly open, his teeth clenched. I knew what that meant. He was disturbed, but that very disturbance was turning him on. I’d danced for him just like this once, the first time I ever went to his house.

‘Just watch me. I’ll be as good as any tart,’ I crooned from my trance, running my hands up the inside of my thighs to open them a little more, and then I started to pleasure myself. The men’s eyes glazed as I worked with my fingers, swayed my naked body, showed them glimpses of what I was doing, and then just as they started to fall back in their seats, their hands working furiously on themselves, someone else pushed into the crowded room.

Gustav glanced sideways, and we both recognised the newcomer at the same time

Mr Weinmeyer looked me up and down and grinned like the Cheshire Cat, and as he raised and drained his full glass of tawny port I made myself come.

There was a stifling silence, punctuated only by the zipping up of flies. The younger men shuffled about and tried to rearrange themselves into some kind of order as I turned my back and walked calmly towards the fireplace to study myself, and them, in the mirror. Any of them who hadn’t come just then would just have to wait until they were alone.

‘What a stunner. She’s come a long way in just a few short weeks.’ Mr Weinmeyer gave a long low whistle as if summoning a sheepdog, and clapped his hand on Gustav’s shoulder. ‘Shame Ingrid and I couldn’t have got there first. You’re even more of a man than I thought you were, Levi.’

Gustav’s eyes bore into me through the mirror’s glass. I returned his gaze, shaking now as the reality of what I’d just done sank in. I raised my arms and pinned one or two loose tendrils of hair.

‘I can’t lock her away, much as I’d like to. She’s so young, and she needs to learn. I’m enjoying watching her, and I’m discovering it’s the best way to keep her happy. Even if she runs away I know she’ll come back to me. She always comes back.’

I smiled at him in the mirror, and to my relief he returned my smile.

‘You struck gold when you found this one, Levi. And don’t forget the rule that what happens at Club Crème stays at Club Crème.’ Mr Weinmeyer chinked his glass against Gustav’s. ‘Actually, Mr Levi, Miss Serena, I’m glad I’ve caught you both, especially at such a dazzling moment. Let me just feast my eyes for a moment longer before I go over this new commission Ingrid and I have for you.’

I realised how pissed I was now, and turned carefully towards the two older men. Gustav picked up the discarded dress, came over to me, eased it on over my arms and shoulders and hooked it gently back into place. The golden locket had somehow slipped back out of sight, and he pressed it back into place before kissing me on the lips. The younger men had retreated to the corner of the room, where they were drinking and muttering and texting on their mobiles.

‘What do you have in mind, Ernst?’

‘My wife and I would like Serena to come to Venice. We have some business there, and we also have a whole lot of pleasure planned for all concerned.’ Mr Weinmeyer’s laugh was deep, booming and self-assured. ‘I promise we’ll send her safely home, Levi. Just like a pigeon.’

My legs won’t hold me up any more. The scene of my striptease at the Club Crème fades into my tired, pissed mind now that Gustav has brought me home. But there’s one detail I can’t avoid. The blond guy who nearly got a taste of me back there is Toga Tomas. He was at Pierre’s Halloween party in London. He asked me to give him a blowjob and I refused. He’s the one Pierre and Polly keep teasing me about.