Flora Dain - Chase

When he tells me what it’s for and what it does I gaze at him open-mouthed. ‘You’re not serious?’

He’s serious all right – seriously laughing. The glee in his eyes melts my soul. His outrageous suggestion is irresistible.

He makes me lean against it, forcing me onto it so my most private and personal place is splayed open and then I must control my squeals as he navigates the buttons and the speeds, making me shudder with arousal in all the right places while the thing vibrates in all the wrong ones.

At the same time he hoses me off with the spray and, as I’m bent almost double to accommodate the thing, I’m encouraged to pay detailed attention to his glistening manhood. This is so exciting that shower time takes a while. We finish breathless with laughter, me tingling and stretched, both of us far wetter than necessary.

Towelling me off takes a while too as he fingers my newly loosened opening, grinning like it’s a perfectly normal place to loosen. ‘One day we might have some fun in here. We’ll see.’

The cone was way more fun than I like to admit; luckily the spray sluiced off most of my tell-tale excitement. I can only hope he’s teasing. Finally he drops a kiss on my shoulder and with it another bombshell.

‘Now put on something pretty. We’ll have a sexy night out.’

I fling my arms around his neck. ‘Must we? What happened to our sexy night in? I was looking forward to it.’

He smiles slowly, his expression dark. ‘Me too. You can’t believe how much. But I feel like showing you off on a dance floor. Plus it’s my cook’s night off. Anyway, you deserve it. Tomorrow we’re invited to a civic reception to welcome the South American delegation to Boston.’

I laugh and nuzzle his neck. ‘What, this is your revenge on me for causing you all this hassle in the first place?’

His face grows stern. ‘Nope. This is both a family and a professional duty.’ He kisses me gently, his look hooded. ‘My revenge on you comes later.’

We agree that first I have to call in at Billy’s tiny apartment to pick up some things for the next two days, since I arrived earlier than planned at his residence and was unaware we’d spend most of it black-tie. My trip across town is swift. I dive into the apartment and snatch up my bag, ready-packed for a wicked weekend but lacking any significant evening wear. I grab my cocktail dress and my newest long gown, drape both over my arm and make for the door. As I glance out of the window I pause a moment.

There’s a woman standing across the street.

People wait across streets from places all the time. Nothing special about that.

I must be getting jumpy. Darnley’s obsession with security rarely gets to me but the thought that our weekend could be derailed this easily makes me nervous. Also, something about this woman is oddly familiar. I’ve seen her outside the Academy. And more than once, now I come to think of it. She seems to be staring right at my window. A chill runs through me.

I slam the door impatiently and head for the stairs. I’m getting as paranoid as Darnley. Then I run back and double-check the lock, race back down to Bullen and try to forget about it.

Getting ready takes a while because Darley insists on supervising every stage of my dressing and make-up, leaning casually on the dresser in my room and tweaking my nipples to hard pebbles to show under the modest neckline of my semi-respectable, tight-fitting cocktail dress and then scooping it down a little to spoil the effect, modesty-wise, so it ends up showing far more of me than I usually allow.

I lift my chin, hoping to look unconcerned, until he runs a finger along my lowered neckline and grins, ruining that effect too.

At last we climb into the car. Tonight the security detail comes with us. Two men sit silently in front, two in another car behind. I gather we’re on the lookout for Cola. We start out sleek and high-end and work slowly down through the nightspots. But when we finally reach a nightspot popular with the Harvard crowd Darnley squeezes my arm. ‘Hey. Look over there. In the middle of the dance floor.’

It’s Cola, dancing with abandon. All at once she spots us and bids a hasty farewell to her partner, who disappears into the crowd. She hurries over to greet us, but now I see Darnley tap a message into his phone. As she takes us both by the arm and leads us over to the bar, she chatters eagerly while we order cocktails, and happily settles onto a barstool, like she always hangs around in bars on her own. Darnley remains tight-lipped.

Soon she sidles up to me. ‘Powder room?’

We go together, arm-in-arm.

‘Having fun?’ I smile at her, puzzled. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright. She’s a world away from the sullen child I met earlier .

I search for something to say. Babysitting spoilt rich kids is no way to use up our precious weekends. ‘I hope you enjoyed the play. You’re welcome to sit in any time.’

She puts her head on one side. ‘Thank you. It’s such a sad story.’ All of a sudden her lip trembles. ‘And please, don’t tell him about me next time.’ Her lovely eyes fill with tears.

She looks unbearably sad and now I sense real pain. Poor kid, but it’s a relief there’s something real below her brittle spoilt-brat surface. I look at her with new interest.

‘I didn’t tell him that time,’ I say gently. ‘You did that by using my phone.’ It occurs to me that maybe Darnley would sooner conceal his methods. It might be diplomatic to gloss over her casual phone use.

It also occurs to me that she was on-site for some reason. If she’s on a roll she’s troubled in some way. Our students don’t just wander in off the street.

I pat her hand and say nothing.

Definitely rehab.

I hover while she fusses with her hair and make-up and finally slips into a cubicle. As another one frees up I do too, listening out for her. Other women come in and chatter and leave. When I emerge all’s quiet but she’s still in there so I hang around to wait.

Minutes later I frown. Is she on something? Darnley will never forgive me …

‘Cola?’ I push at her cubicle door.

The cubicle’s empty.

Panic rising, I reach for my phone then pause. Maybe she’s back at the table. I glance round the door but Darnley’s sitting alone at our table, his men nearby.

Is she dancing? If I go back in without her Darnley will freak. Think.

I check the small corridor I’m standing in. The locked doors are all marked ‘Private’ except one marked ‘Fire exit’, right at the end. When I push it I find it leads outside.

Could someone have come in? I reach for my phone, seriously alarmed now. As I do it the door swings open and Cola appears.

‘Where the heck have you been?’ I sound shrill. ‘I thought …’

‘Thought what?’ She dashes a hand to her face, like she’s been crying.

‘You OK?’ I touch her arm.

‘You spying on me too?’ She snatches her arm away and now she’s back to the charm-school dropout. ‘I wanted some air, that’s all.’

‘Darnley’s worried about you. He says –’

She pushes past me. ‘I know what he says. I want to leave now. I’m tired of dancing.’

Back at our table Darnley takes one look at her sour expression, so different from a few minutes ago, and frowns at me. ‘What happened?’

I roll my eyes. ‘How should I know?’

I’m still dizzy from her mood-swing. The rehab’s definitely not working.

We drive back in silence, thankfully without Cola, who’s now en route to her hotel. Darnley’s expression is unreadable. As we walk in and we’re finally alone he glares down at me. ‘What’s going on? How much do you know about all this, Ella? A call came from your cell. You take for ever in the powder room. Now she’s upset. What happened?’