Nicola Jane - Follow Your Fantasy - Deeper

You look to Giselle for help but she shrugs, almost imperceptibly.

'Did you bring room service?' asks Anton, his voice revealing some kind of European accent now you're not hearing it through the acoustics of the lift. He has an aristocratic-looking face. The kind of high cheekbones and patrician features that look as if they would only top the most expensive of tailored suits.

'Ahhh…' You hesitate, unsure how flirty to be at this late stage in the proceedings.

'Could you send my mail for me?' he asks to your complete bewilderment. It saves you the effort of thinking how to play it. Again, no reaction from Giselle. You rack your brains trying to think what it might be a euphemism for. French letters? You've got some of course – condoms are always in your bag.

You nod once. It's not an answer but you can't think of anything to say. He doesn’t seem to care if you talk or not, though, and reaches to his left to pick up a smallish, brown package from the nightstand. He tosses it to the foot of the bed where it falls amid the crumpled silk sheets.

'That needs to go to a magician who'll make it disappear.' He laughs at his non sequitur joke. You've no idea what he's talking about still. Giselle flicks her eyes at it to urge you, if not your tongue, out of your paralysis and you step forward to pick it up. It's not heavy but it's padded and you can't tell what's in it.

'I don't – I mean I can't take – I mean - carry drugs if that's what this is.'

'It's the most powerful drug there is.'

What the hell has Giselle been saying about you?

'I don't know what makes you think I'm into that but I can assure you I really don't-'

'Take a look, honey,' says Giselle finally. 'We're all hooked on that drug.'

You unfold the top corner of the package and immediately see something that reminds you how you wound up in this life in the first place. Sparkling jewels. But this is no rhinestone thong, it's the real deal. A tangle of diamonds threaded together on fine silvery metal threads. There's too much of it to be simply a necklace. You let out a deep breath, not even caring that it's audible. It's impossible to say how much this package is worth. Even if it's not looking illegal in an instantly obvious way, you can't walk around with something as valuable as this.

'What is it?'

'Ahhh, so uncultured!' He smiles, showing he doesn't mean to insult. 'You're holding something that has beguiled men throughout history in the hands of the right woman. The story goes that Marie Antoinette was the one who brought it to France. Before her, maybe even as far back as Cleopatra wore it. But we all know what happened to the last Queen of France.' He makes a brief his finger motion with at his throat. 'Napoleon, shall we say, acquired them for Josephine and Josephine had him ensnared forever. I think that was his intention. Powerful men love to be enslaved by women.'

Giselle snorts in agreement. 'Especially rich, powerful men.'

'But surely this can't be the same one. How would you know? How did you get it after Napoleon?'

'Things like this, priceless, beautiful, alluring … they pass from collector to collector. You could say I'm a collector. You might say Leon – the magician – is one too.'

'But what is it?'

'It's an adornment to bewitch men and make you the most desired you've ever been. Leon will be enraptured and you, if you want to take it, you could have the most memorable night of your life, following in the footsteps of the greatest women in history.'

Anton snakes his arm round Giselle's shoulders and begins playing with her right breast, squeezing her nipple between two fingers. Giselle arches her back and flicks her hair in pleasure.

'Why don't you want to take it?' you ask Giselle, eyes narrowed but too curious to inject that much suspicion into your tone.

'I'm already having the most memorable night of my life,' she says and bends her head to lick around the tip of Anton's erection. She winks at you on the way down and, even now, it's hard for you to know if she's telling the truth. But you want to get a look at what's in the package and taking it is the only way to find out what it is.

'The address is on the packet,' Anton says, his voice even, despite the fact Giselle's hand is also now wrapped around his cock. 'Go straight there. No stop offs. No phone-calls.'

'Leon will pay you for your time – or your whatever,' Giselle says and laughs. She sounds like the Giselle you first met – all hard edges and no sense of camaraderie. Not that you've seen her out of business mode that often, but there have been times when she's touching you or you've been playing with her, that there have been flickers of connection. Or all of it has been just a game she plays for her own reasons. Anton probably feels like he's her most valued customer when he's just tonight's most valuable.

'The whatever?' you ask, knowing she loves keeping you hanging with this kind of cryptic comment. 'What's in "the whatever"?'

'A magician never reveals his secrets,' she says.

It’s the second time that word has been used. You look at the package and see that it's labelled "Leon The Great and Powerful" with an address that's a few blocks from here. Whatever 'the whatever' entails, it involves jewellery that's hundreds of years old. You say goodbye and leave them to it.

This time the lift opens, descends, and opens again with no interruption from the screen in the panel. According to your watch, you only arrived at the hotel fifteen minutes ago but no-one pays you any attention as you leave. You drop the package into your handbag anyway, hoping you don't look too furtive, and nod at the doorman as he holds the door open for you.

'Can I get you a taxi?' he asks.

'Yes, please.' The address is only a few blocks away but you don't want to walk around with a priceless antique.

You wait only a few moments for the doorman to hail your taxi but it's long enough to look around in paranoia that somehow the value of what you're carrying is visible. As the doorman is opening the door for you, you notice a guy leaning against a silvery-blue car ahead of you. He's smoking and looks like he's been up all night, for several nights. Even the way he draws on the cigarette looks like it's costing him effort. The way he's half sitting on the rear of the car suggests it's his and when you turn around as your taxi pulls off, he proves your hunch right by stubbing out the cigarette and opening the driver's door.

You turn forward again and then, a few seconds later, mounting unease makes you turn back. Sure enough the blue car is two cars behind your taxi. Why would anyone be following you? How could they actually know what you've got with you?

Or, are they following Giselle? You didn't notice the guy when you arrived at the hotel, but that doesn't mean he wasn't there. You've no idea what Giselle was wearing when she arrived so you can't be sure if it's a mix up or not. You can't even really be sure you're being followed. The guy finished his cigarette and it was time to leave, that's all.

You're too unnerved to risk opening the parcel in the taxi. Even if the blue car is nothing to do with you, you can't whip out a pile of diamonds in front of the taxi driver. You run your fingers over the brown paper still hidden in your bag, trying to make out the size and weight of the stones. You don’t have time to explore much longer as the taxi pulls up in front of a nondescript, brown brick building. Somehow you'd expected a more vaudevillian style theatre with red lights around a 'Leon The Great and Powerful' sign. If there wasn’t a number above the door, you'd have thought you'd come to the wrong place.

You step out onto the pavement and see the car overtake you and turn right at the next junction. You look down, making more of putting your purse away than you need to, face turned away from the road as car headlights sweep past. Maybe you should have got the taxi to go a less direct route but it's too late now. What are you thinking? That you're in some low budget film noir?