Tease (26 page)

She smiled once more as she watched beautiful Tiger jump down agilely from her horse prop and elegantly slip her heels back on, patting down her hair with one hand and smoothing out her dress with the other. Now there was a real woman. That undertow of pure sexuality, whilst maintaining the tease that she would never actually give it away. Although judging by the almost tangible sparks flying between her and the sculptor right now, Pepper
wondered if Tiger might be making an exception to that rule this afternoon.

‘I must leave for my lunchtime poker game over at Big Annie’s. I heard she won big money a few nights ago which I intend to relieve her of today,’ announced Pepper. ‘Okay, darling, but what do you really think?’ asked Tiger, clutching at Pepper’s satin dress a little needily.

‘You heard me back there. It’s going to be knockout. But now we have to work out how in hell you’re going to take off your stockings while you’re riding that baby. There’s not much time left to get it right.’

‘We have a few days before it’s sent to Cannes. It’s just a case of balance. I’ve been practising on that big old stuffed polar bear in my house anyway. And the rest of the routine is all finished, rehearsed and perfect. Have faith in me, darling,’ pleaded Tiger. ‘I know it will be fabulous, it’s just too much fun not to be.’

‘Well, I’ll share in your enthusiasm. I’ll see you in rehearsals with the girls tomorrow,
ma chérie
,’ and with that, Pepper kissed her goodbyes to Tiger and Bob, and made her way towards the door to grab a black cab into town for her poker game.

Tiger’s mobile buzzed from inside her handbag and a text message flashed from Blue to signal that he was waiting outside with Vladimir to take her to her press interview across town.

‘I must be going, Bob,’ said Tiger slowly, licking her lips as her eyes ranged over his sturdy torso. He was tall
and broad, with beautiful golden skin and the palest blue eyes, a little crinkly at the corners.

‘Before you go, ma’am?’

‘Yes?’ asked Tiger, looking up at his handsome face.

‘I need you to sign off, so we can despatch the prop tomorrow.’

‘Oh sure, just give me the paperwork.’

‘This way, ma’am.’ Bob led Tiger to a small Portacabin set into the corner of the huge workshop. Tiger’s heart started pounding, her stomach fluttered with nerves as he opened the door. She found herself checking for any sign of a wedding band as he held the door open like a gentleman. All clear. She wondered if she dared to steal a kiss. How presumptuous, she thought, chastising herself. Though she was a free agent – Libertina had made it more than clear that what they shared was little more than a fling or at best a friendship with benefits. Bob closed the door softly behind him. Tiger froze, unable to walk any further as sheer excitement washed over her. Dare she make a move? So shamelessly? Bob was spectacular looking, with that incredible body and those thick blond curls that Tiger longed to run her hands through, never mind the way he had firmly patted his big hands on the horse’s flanks … and hers back there. Tiger’s thighs tensed at the thought, and a second wave of anticipation hit her stomach. ‘Ma’am? Are you okay?’ asked Bob, watching Tiger, who was curiously rooted to the spot. In a nanosecond Tiger had turned and pounced. Bob stiffened in shock before
reciprocating passionately, immediately grabbing for her hair with his grease-stained mitts.

‘Oh darling, don’t get me dirty, I have to be in Knightsbridge straight after this,’ whispered Tiger as she quickly unsnapped his overalls and tugged at them, reaching within the elasticated band of his grey Calvins for his already rock-hard cock. Bob took a moment to lift Tiger onto the desk where all the paperwork sat, leaving greasy smudges on her taut thighs. Tiger helped him yank her dress up, trailing her mink-trimmed stiletto over his smooth back as he bent over her. She nuzzled into him, lapping up his warm scent as he moved in to caress her neck with his hot tongue. As Tiger ran her kid gloves over his back, her mouth watering in anticipation of a good lunchtime spank, she caught a glimpse of a face at the window. She froze. ‘Stage door Johnnie!’ she screamed. Bob recoiled. ‘How did he find me
this
time? Ohmygod I have to go,’ garbled Tiger.

‘What the?’

‘Oh shit dogs. Oh baby, we could … oh hell. Oh this is all wrong, I have to go. I’m sorry. Fuck it!’ stuttered Tiger, jumping up and grabbing her handbag. ‘Shit shit shit!’ She turned back and scribbled her autograph right across the now-crumpled despatch forms. Within seconds Tiger had bolted from the building to a rousing chorus of cheers from the workmen as she dodged past, frantically tugging her hemline to sit at her knees. Outside, Tiger stopped to gulp some air. There sat Vladimir in the
Towncar as it purred calmly in the fresh air of the no-man’s-land of Tower Hamlets, waiting to rescue her. Thank god, she thought, jumping inside.

‘Blue? I swear I saw Johnnie. How did he know where I was? I’m sure he’s been sending the letters. He must be. There’s no other explanation.’ The words poured out as Tiger panted. ‘Vladimir, drive round the block once, before you go to Knightsbridge. I need to look for someone,’ she ordered. Blue delicately wiped an oily smudge from her chin.

‘Calm down, darling. I didn’t see Johnnie out here. You must have been mistaken.’

‘Blue, it was him! I’m sure of it. It’s getting creepy now. He seems to know where I am all the time! I mean, who
tells
him this shit? He must follow me.’

‘He’s harmless, and you’re paranoid,’ Blue sighed. ‘Okay, so how do you explain the pink card in the bouquet last week?’

‘Well, most girls like pink. It’s a fair choice of colour. God, you were in a weird mood that night.’

‘Then how about this. Johnnie knows where I live. He was outside my house after that press story with a posy. He always finds out where all my shows and appearances are. Think about the letters. “I know where you live.” “I watch you sleeping.” “I know what underwear you have on today.” “I know your secret.” And what about that one that arrived in
Vegas
…’ Tiger trailed off, remembering she hadn’t been telling Blue about the latest little batch.

‘Woah there. What’s all this new stuff?’ exclaimed Blue, pulling a hip flask from his satchel. ‘I don’t think you’ve been giving me the whole story. Now, have a nip of gin and calm down. I calculate we have around thirty minutes before we get to Knightsbridge and you are going to tell me about every single pink letter that you’ve kept quiet. Got it? And only then can you tell me how you came to have grease and gold paint on your chin and your – your thighs.’

Tiger nodded and swiped the hip flask from his hands with a wicked glint in her eye.

‘Did I hear the word “lunch”?’ asked Rex hopefully.

‘Well, it’s 12.45, so I guess—’ started Sienna.

‘Great. Driver, change of plan. Could you swing round and take us to The Ivy, please,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll ring ’em now, babes, and make sure they have a table.’

Sienna sighed. Dining out again. She would have to get her butt down the gym soon – she had definitely noticed her size 6 outfits feeling a bit snug. Sienna had never had to worry in the past about what she ate, but she figured the constant flow of champagne and being driven everywhere might have something to do with her recently expanding in the arse department.

She looked out of the black cab window as it crawled through the throngs of tourists on Shaftesbury Avenue and finally conceded she was struggling to keep up with Rex. She did her best to be indispensable, both as an
employee and as a lover, but it was starting to wear her out. Rex never stopped. All his business seemed to be done over breakfast, lunch or dinner, or on his mobile in between breakfast, lunch and dinner. And then he would continue in the evening after dinner, networking or buttering up editors and clients alike at members’ clubs and parties. It was almost a relief when he went away on his numerous little business trips so she could put her feet up at home, have a face mask, slop around in her pjs, and give her professional smile a rest for a night.

Of course, Rex was incredibly discreet where work was concerned; he was the consummate professional. In fact no amount of alcoholic or chemical substance ever seemed to touch the sides with him. Sienna found it slightly scary how he managed to remain in control at all times. Rex had a knack of getting his associates completely kaboo-bied by the end of a meeting, but he always worked his charm to the very last second, and he always remembered absolutely every word and every promise that had been uttered. Sienna guessed that kind of dedication was what made him one step ahead in business. Every media personality wanted Rex Hunter behind them. So did every woman, sighed Sienna, trying not to think about all the actresses, models and PR girls who seemed to chuck themselves at him on a daily and nightly basis right in front of her. It would help if Rex would introduce her as ‘my girlfriend’ once in a while, rather than as ‘my assistant’.

As the cab pulled up at The Ivy, Rex clocked the usual smattering of paps outside.

‘Hmm, wonder who’s in today?’ he muttered to himself, peeling a note from the large wad in his inside pocket and throwing it at the cab driver. ‘Keep the change mate. Right, come on, Sienna let’s see what’s on at the circus.’

He charged through to reception and greeted the
maître d’
like an old friend.

‘Come on, babes, we’ve got our usual table,’ said Rex, ushering Sienna into the restaurant. She had learnt never to look around at the people in a room when she entered, or she would look like a star-fucker or a tourist. Instead, she now waited until she was settled at her table, seat or space at the bar, before having a quick survey of the room just before reaching for her handbag; and then if she saw anyone she wanted a closer look at, she would take out her compact and hold it up in their direction so she could stare for a few more seconds whilst looking as though powdering her nose. Any more staring or surreptitious glancing was strictly off limits, in fact, the said celebrity would then have to be studiously ignored until they got up to leave, at which point generally the whole room would stare for the duration of their exit.

Safely at her table, Sienna flicked her eyes around. A high-profile radio presenter and a comedian sat to her right. She didn’t bother with her compact.

‘What do you fancy?’ asked Rex.

‘Oh, I haven’t looked at the menu yet.’

‘No I mean to drink. Bolli or Stolli?’

‘Um, actually I might have some water, thanks.’

‘Water? Jeez, fish fuck in that stuff. Choose something else.’

‘No really. It’s a bit early for me. I’m okay with a Perrier. I’ll have some champagne with you later.’

‘Hmm. Whatever you say. Bottle of the Bollinger Grand Annee Rosé please and thanks,’ ordered Rex as the waiter swooped. ‘Ahh. Can’t beat a bit of pink,’ sighed Rex, rubbing his hands together and studying his menu.

‘Well, if it isn’t the two lovebirds,’ boomed a familiar voice.

‘Lance! Mate! To what do we owe the pleasure?’ said Rex cheerily. Sienna rolled her eyes and curled her lip from behind her menu. She wasn’t sure about Lance any more. He’d obviously had sex with her sister for a start – ugh – and he also intimidated Sienna the more she got to know him. From sitting in on meetings with him and Rex it was quite evident from his monologues and critiques that Lance had a mind like a steel trap, and a mischievous streak verging on merciless. Sienna wondered whether Tiger was brave or just stupid to have got close to him. Though her sister obviously liked intelligent, witty men. From what Lance had hinted, she sensed the pair had enjoyed a long relationship, long enough for Lance to have felt burned by Tiger finishing with him. It was weird though that Tiger had never mentioned him once, though they didn’t often share confidences.

Sienna certainly found she couldn’t relax around Lance, and she never knew whether to take him seriously or if he was pulling her leg. Rex had told her she would have to get used to people like that in the PR business. Sienna just found it exhausting keeping up with it all.

‘Who are you here with, mate?’ asked Rex.

‘Oh I’m sitting over the other side in social Siberia with Devon Sexton’s manager,’ Lance said under his breath, crouching down to Rex’s level.

‘Oh? Where’s Devon then? She’s a bit of a babe that one.’

Sienna scowled over at Rex.

‘Well, I’ve got this big feature on her now she’s got her “Devon Rocks” tour coming up. Her bloody management won’t let me near her until they’ve given me the official Hollywood story. Honestly, mate, they’re all so bloody media trained these days, I can’t get a single interesting scrap of gossip out of them. Not like the old days.’

‘Yeah, I’m on the other side though,’ protested Rex, ‘and believe me, most of the “talent” out there can’t string a sentence together. The managers have to give ’em a script to stop them gabbing on to sharks like you about how many pills they necked at the weekend.’

‘Well, bollocks to the manager, I’ll just insist on taking Devon to lunch somewhere miles away, the Fat Duck or something, so we have a long journey; she’ll run out of the official story in about ten minutes flat. Then we make friends and I’ll talk about my new puppy or my mum or
something, then I’ll move in for the kill on the way back when she’s forgotten I’m a journalist and thinks we’re best buddies.’ Lance paused and looked at Sienna whose mouth was open as she listened. ‘Are you writing this down? Good for you to know the tricks.’ Lance winked in her direction. Sienna smiled and hastily buried her head back in her menu.

‘Mate, can you sit with the little lady for two minutes while I go and decant?’ asked Rex.

‘Sure. My pleasure!’ replied Lance as Sienna looked up like a rabbit in the headlights. Before she had a chance to politely decline, Rex was off to the gents and Lance was already in his chair and leaning in.

‘So how is the delectable Miss Starr?’

‘I’m good thanks,’ replied Sienna self consciously. ‘You?’

‘How’s Miss Starr Senior?’ asked Lance, ignoring Sienna’s question.

‘Yeah, er, she’s good I think. She’s in Cannes next week doing a show.’