House of Intrigue Read online

  By the same author: HOUSE OF ANGELS

  HOUSE OF INTRIGUE

  Yvonne Strickland

  This book is a work of fiction.

  In real life, make sure you practise safe sex.

  First published in 1995 by Nexus

  332 Ladbroke Grove London W10 5AH

  Copyright © Yvonne Strickland 1995

  Typeset by TW Typesetting, Plymouth, Devon

  Printed and bound by

  BPC Paperbacks Ltd, Aylesbury, Bucks

  ISBN 0 352 33055 4

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The Wheel Turns

  He ran his hand across her warm cheek, pushing the hair aside from her ear.

  'So I can't get you to change your mind? It's your final decision?'

  'Yes,' she replied quietly, the candlelight gleaming in her hazel-brown eyes, 'my final decision.' She looked down at her hands and bit her lip. 'It isn't that I'm not very fond of you Richard, believe me, but I couldn't think of settling down. There are too many other things - things you cannot understand. Anyway, I booked the flight last week, you know I did.'

  'OK,' he said, laying down his knife and fork and pushing aside the empty plate. 'But can't we keep in touch -won't you give me a post box address or even a phone number?'

  'Richard ... please, I've told you I can't. Look, you have my mother's address; if you still want to keep in touch, she will forward your letters on to me.'

  He remained silent for almost a minute, lifting his glass and drinking a little red wine as he watched her eyes. His gaze took in her soft, light brown hair, which tumbled about her naked shoulders, the silver locket she always wore but was so secretive about, her firm breasts confined by the thin material of the white dress. He thought of how intimately each had come to know the other and how very sensual she could be when she was aroused.

  'You can't blame me, can you though?' he said at length. 'You're young and very beautiful, and I feel as if I've known you for a great deal longer than I really have.'

  'Yes.' She smiled, reaching over the table to place her hand over his. 'And nobody has ever been sweeter to me than you. I've thought a few times that if I

  'Excuse me, sir, madam,' cut in a voice at their side, 'will you be requiring desserts?'

  He glanced from the waiter to Karen, his head tilted questioningly to one side.

  'Er ... no, I think I've had enough,' she said. 'Just a coffee perhaps.'

  They stepped from the warm intimacy of the dimly lit restaurant and out into the side street. The night air was chilling and damp and the dark pavements glistened wet in the impersonal glow of the street lamps. Karen pulled her fawn raincoat around her.

  They reached the car in its parking bay, a short distance from the main road. Opening the doors, he was about to speak, when even his thoughts were drowned by the shrieking hee-haw, hee-haw, hee-haw of two police cars and an ambulance, careering by among the chaos of moving vehicles, their glaring blue lights flashing out a new discord within the seething madness of the traffic. They fell into the car and slammed the doors.

  He took her hand and said, 'You know I'm up in Birmingham tomorrow afternoon. I won't even be able to drive you to the airport because I can't get back in time.' He switched on the engine without taking his eyes from her. 'Look, what I'm saying is, why not come back to my hotel for another hour or two and we can drive around to your flat later. I don't want to say goodbye until we absolutely have to. What do you say?'

  She smiled in the dim light, the illumination from the instrument panel glinting in her eyes.

  'I've got a better idea if you feel like it.'

  'What's that?'

  'Well, it's no more bother for me to cook breakfast for two instead of one.' They leaned towards each other and kissed. 'We can still have a drink or two at your hotel first though, if you want to collect a few things from your room.'

  'D'you know,' he responded with a broad smile as he put the engine into gear, 'I might just go along with that idea!'

  They moved slowly through the city streets, through the glaring lights and rearing dark forms of sleeping office blocks with windows blank and anonymous against the darker night sky. The traffic moved, then slowed, then stopped for a time and began to move again in a hesitant, growling stream of glaring and blinking lights.

  'Here comes more rain,' he breathed.

  The wipers began to hum and squeak away the crawling minutes.

  'I'm lost,' said Karen, wiping the condensation from her side window and peering into the semi-frozen river of lights.

  'Next main junction and we turn on to Bayswater Road - not too far after that.'

  She looked through the window again but there was not the churning of lights in the rain, nor the shifting back and forth of nameless people across the wet streets and pavements. Instead, she closed her eyes and saw the calm blue sky, open and smiling across the vineyards. There was the white villa with its terracotta roof, its portico and its windows, letting in the sunlight through open green shutters. There were the gardens and the pine woods, and across the valley, the distant sea. There were her friends and there was Sonia, head of the little empire whose tentacles of licentious indulgence reached, through her girls, into the highest levels of European government and finance. Sonia, whose house in Languedoc, the house where Karen had taken up employment the previous year, was used for the commercial recording of diverse and bizarre acts of sexuality. This was the Sonia who Karen had resisted for a time but within whose web of sensual darkness she had become so hopelessly entangled.

  'You've gone very quiet,' he said, smiling across at her.

  'Oh, have I?' She smiled back at him. 'I was just wondering when this awful traffic jam would end.'

  'Not long now.' The traffic lights changed to green and they began to edge forward.

  'You don't really want to swap all this for an uneventful life out in the sticks, do you?' he continued.

  'You must be joking,' she breathed.

  Once on the main thoroughfare and heading away from London, their progress improved. Soon, over to their right, a large, modern hotel proclaimed itself in a rising slab of light against the sky.

  'Are you going to wait in the bar?' he asked, as they pulled up a little distance from the main entrance. '

  'Oh ... er, no,' she hesitated, 'I've changed my mind about coming inside. I'll stay here and listen to the radio. You won't be long, will you?'

  'Is it as posh as it looks?' she asked, glancing back at the glittering hotel as he negotiated their way back out into the traffic.

  'I've stayed in a lot worse, I can tell you.'

  The wipers hissing to and fro with hypnotic rhythm reminded her of that day, which now seemed a lifetime ago, when the cab had collected her from the shop doorway and taken her on that uncertain journey to the interview with Sonia.

  The trees and iron railings of Kensington Gardens drifted by on their left in the dark rain and Karen mused, 'It must be very pleasant here in the summer.'

  'Steady on,' he laughed, 'we're halfway through May already. It isn't the Mediterranean, you know!'

  'No,' she answered, 'it isn't.'

  'Oh well,' he went on, 'wherever you end up later this week, next stop is Notting Hill.'

  'You have a nice little place here,' he remarked, watching her draw the
red velvet curtains across the lounge windows. 'And only a few minutes walk from the underground.'

  'Mmm, it's not bad, is it,' she agreed, turning to meet his gaze. She picked up her fawn raincoat from the back of the chair and walked over to the bedroom. 'Bring your coat in here if you like,' came her voice. 'There's plenty of hanging room - I've already packed a lot of my things.'

  He pulled off his jacket and followed her through, noting as he did so the two small suitcases resting on the floor by the end of the double bed.

  'My travel bag - will it be OK in here too?'

  'Of course/ she said, smiling at him. 'Unless you've changed your mind about staying.'

  'Er ... no, I hadn't actually,' he answered, watching her slim body in her short white dress as she pushed the two cases back against the wall.

  She turned and moved back over to him.

  'Thank you for a lovely evening, Richard. I really have enjoyed myself.'

  He put his arms about her waist and kissed her. 'I'm sorry about all the hold-ups.'

  She returned his kiss, enveloping him with her perfumed warmth. He pulled her closer still and his lips moved from her mouth to her soft neck and down over her bare shoulder.

  'Look, I'm going to take a quick shower and get changed.' She stepped back and pushed her hair over her shoulders. 'If you want to get us both a drink, there's some Scotch in the kitchen cupboard. It's all the booze I've got, I'm afraid.'

  He watched her walk slowly towards the bathroom, hef hands above her neck, seeking the zip fastener at the back of her collar. She hesitated at the doorway, pulling down the zipper as far as her reach would allow. An arm passed around her waist and she closed her eyes. His lips brushed about the back of her neck, making her body tingle. The zip fastener continued downwards until it reached her waist. The dress fell away from her shoulders. The insistent lips moved to the side of her neck and to her cheek while the hands moved about her and firmly cupped her naked breasts, fingers and thumbs gently squeezing the hardening nipples. She could feel his arousal against her behind.

  'Is there room for two in there?' he whispered.

  She twisted her head and smiled. 'Only just.'

  A minute later, he was in the shower with her.

  'You're right about it being cramped,' he laughed, holding her close to him under the hot, cascading water. 'It certainly wasn't built for two!'

  They lathered each other liberally with pink shower gel, the thick foam building up and swirling about their feet. His penis, hard and inflamed, slid sometimes around the base of her warm stomach, sometimes between her legs, the head slipping easily, but only so far, between the lubricated folds of her sex. Their hands played a voluptuous game with each other's bodies. He splashed the foam away from her breasts and let his mouth close upon her nipples, sucking and teasing them in turn with his tongue until they were reddened and hard. Their fingers played the game of lust, his stroking deeply into her, feeling her relaxed and unresisting, hers closing about his erection and working it slowly back and forth so that his fingers dug into her flesh and he groaned softly.

  'We'll never do it in here!' she laughed. 'There's not enough room.'

  'Never mind,' he breathed into her ear. 'There are other ways.'

  Slowly he eased himself downwards, his lips brushing past her breasts and down her soft stomach, glistening and running with water, until he reached the firmer and silk smooth flesh above her vulva. He liked the absence of hair about her sex and had been curious enough to want to ask her about it, but never considered the time appropriate. Now he was on his knees, his hands running down the curves of her body, his mouth pressed against the lips of her sex, his tongue darting about the core of her sensuality. She was pushed hard back against the cubicle wall, her hands resting on his head, and he moved his knees to either side of her feet in the restricting yet intimate little world of warmth and water. He began to move her legs apart and she responded by placing a foot either side of him so that he could bring his knees together, all the better to gain access to that which he most desired. His tongue rioted within her sex and he was aware of the tension rising within her body as her fingers clawed in ecstasy against his scalp. With his left hand, he reached under her behind and, finding the area between the cheeks slippery with undissolved shower gel, he moved his finger down until he found the little rosebud of her anus. Her body stiffened abruptly as his finger entered there, and meeting little resistance he moved ever further into her. She slid a little down the cubicle wall, pressing down harder on his head and further parting her legs. He knew it would be wrong of him to stop now, even though his own organ of lust had not yet entered the stage, but still waited, fretting and eager in the wings. Her pelvis thrust harder against his face, and while his tongue played its exquisite game, his finger probed deeper into her rear, making her push down harder still. He felt and tasted her climax approaching; heard her breath coming in hoarse gasps; felt her wet body quivering. Then she cried out as if falling from a precipice, her thighs writhing against him until her orgasm was done.

  They stood facing each other once more in the crystal torrent and kissed. She felt the head of his penis, hot and eager, butting and chafing against her sex like a thoroughbred at the starting gate, impatient to lunge forward. He caught his breath as her fingers closed and caressed about it and their lips met again for a few moments. She lowered herself down to her knees before him, one hand still about the swollen shaft, the other, with fingernails extended, coursing down his spine. He let out a soft 'Aaah' as her lips closed over the head and her hand slipped under his scrotum. Leaning forward above her, he rested his hands against the back of the cubicle, closing his eyes and feeling her tongue tease and circle maddeningly about him. She moved down further, taking over half of his erection into her until she could accept no more. He, almost involuntarily, moved his pelvis back and forth and felt the flames begin to rise and take control of him, oblivious now to the hissing cascade upon his shoulders and back and aware only of his aching desire within the urgent caress of her mouth. The tide was rising within him and he knew he was about to lose all control. He expected that any moment she would stop and allow her hand to take over for the final act but she did not. As the inevitable approached, he threw back his head.

  'Christ! I'm going to ... I'm going to .. P

  She held him more tightly as he ejaculated, drinking fully the milk of his passion as his pelvis jerked before her in blissful release.

  She eyed him from the bedroom as she pulled the deep pink housecoat about her and fastened the belt around her waist. With a bath towel wound round the lower half of his body and a tumbler part filled with Scotch in one hand, he sat relaxing in one of the easy chairs. On the low table before him stood another glass waiting for her. As she entered the room, he rose and smiled, picking up the tumbler and holding it out to her.

  'I think we both need this.'

  'I suppose so,' she said, smiling, and sat down in the chair next to his.

  The radio played soft, cool jazz and they both sat and listened, neither of them feeling inclined to speak for the moment. Karen looked into her glass and swirled its amber contents gently about, reflecting upon what had so recently transpired in the shower. Whether he realised it or not, it was the first time she had done that for a man; the first time she had let it go to the ultimate in that way.

  She thought of the others, at the house in Languedoc. To most of them, including those considerably younger than her 23 years, such an act would be a part of their sexual repertoire. To her, a few months ago, it would have been unthinkable. Had her stay in France and her experiences at the house changed her outlook so very much? She had been brought up to believe in the sanctity of marriage and to honour the chastity which, it was said, should prevail outside that institution. She did not regard her relationship with an old school friend, a relationship which had been expressed physically as well as emotionally, as unusual. In the all-girl environment of the school, where she first became aware of her ph
ysical needs, such relationships were regarded as normal and, indeed, often encouraged by the very people whose role it was to further the moral well-being of those in their charge. The fact that she had not married but had continued her relationship with Sandra was part of a life which had moved beyond the narrow horizon of her tutors. And so her life had continued, until that final traumatic break; the break which had in the end sent her out into the wider world and, ultimately, to the house in France. Outwardly, she had for so long affected a reluctance when it came to sexual expression with others but her time in employment at the house had forced her to admit, if only to herself, that her desires could not forever be treated as a burdensome inconvenience.

  And there was Sonia. With Sonia she had identified and established a relationship which now seemed even more significant than when they were together at the house. There were many doors yet to be unlocked, many dark and secret places to explore and experience. They were not to be found here.

  She felt a hand on her knee.

  'What are you thinking about?' he asked.

  'Oh, I ... nothing much. Well, I suppose I was wondering when, or if, I would see London again.'

  'And what about me?' he asked, running his fingers slowly up the front of her thigh.

  She looked into his eyes and placed her hand over his.

  'Perhaps if you came to France -1 can always take time off. It wouldn't be a problem.'

  'Yes, I'd like that. A week in Paris in the summer - how does that sound?'

  She smiled. 'It sounds OK to me.'

  'Is that a promise?'

  'Yes, it's a promise, but you must give me plenty of warning - a couple of weeks at least.'

  'I'll do my best,' he said, his hand tightening on her leg. He leaned over the side of the chair to kiss her and she leaned across the arm towards him. 'It's awkward on these chairs, isn't it?' He grinned, patting the two upholstered arms separating them.

  'It depends on what you are trying to do,' she responded coyly.

  But it was obvious what he was hoping to do from the bulge at the front of the towel which he was attempting, with little success, to conceal. Karen smiled to herself, aware of the currents stirring again within her own body.