A Dangerous Game (31 page)

Perhaps Nicolas is right; I need someone unpredictable, I need

excitement.
 
I need a dominant man for sex, and I need freedom in my

everyday life.
 
And I don't want to be used by men whenever they feel

like it.

To relieve her feelings, she slammed down a medical chart on her

desk.

ingrid came through the door.

"Oh dear," Ingrid said.

"A touch of PMT?"

"I don't suffer from PMT."

"Then it's frustration."
 
Ingrid perched on the edge of Jacey's desk.

"You miss your sexy boyfriend.
 
You want to give him another blow job,

maybe?"

"No, I don't," Jacey said, 'and I wish I hadn't told you about that."

"You think no one knew?
 
All those people in the members' bar knew. And

I've been hearing things about your Senor Nicolas.
 
Treating women like

whores gives him a kick."
 
She leaned towards Jacey.

"You are tense.

You need to relax.
 
Come on, forget about Nicolas.
 
Come out with me

this evening.
 
I know a very nice little club.
 
We can have a few

drinks and a dance."

"I'll think about it," Jacey said.

"About eight o'clock."
 
Ingrid stood up.

"And we'll use your little Paulo as a chauffeur, to ease your social

conscience.
 
OK?"

Jacey did not think any more about ingrid's offer until later that

afternoon.
 
She had to admit that she did feel edgy.
 
She had been

remembering far too much about her past, and about Faisel.
 
It can

still hurt me, she thought, even after all these years.
 
I thought I'd

come to terms with it, but it's like a wound just waiting to be

reopened when I least expect it.
 
Will it haunt me for the rest of my

life?
 
Will I ever be able to forget?

Perhaps an evening out would be a good thing?
 
she wondered.
 
Although

knowing ingrid's liberal sexual orientation, she would probably end up

in a lesbian hideaway, or a bisexual's S&M dungeon.

In fact later that evening, she realised her worries were unfounded.

Ingrid took her to a discreet club, where a local band played sixties

and seventies ballads.
 
The couples moving gently round the small dance

floor were young, and smartly dressed.
 
This was Techtatuan's

professional middle class, Jacey guessed.
 
The food, a selection of

local dishes, was delicious.

"What do you think?"
 
Ingrid tucked into a bowl of mixed vegetables,

spiced with an aromatic sauce.

"Wonderful, isn't it?
 
The best vegetarian food in town."

"It's very good."
 
Jacey had chosen an omelette, cooked to

perfection.

"You like this club?"
 
Ingrid munched contently.

"I love the music.
 
It reminds of when I was at school."

"It's very nice," Jacey said.

"Not what I expected."

"What did you expect?"
 
Ingrid poured herself another glass of wine.

"Something a little more unorthodox," Jacey said tactfully.

"Oh?
 
Lesbians with strapped-on dildoes?"
 
Ingrid grinned.

"Do you think I'm only interested in sex?"

"You do give that impression," Jacey admitted.

"To be honest," Ingrid said, "I wouldn't know where to find a lesbian

club in this town.
 
And I don't think I'd want to.
 
I get enough sex at

La Primavera.
 
Here, have some more wine."

By the end of the evening Jacey felt pleasantly light-headed.
 
Several

couples, recognising Ingrid, had come over to talk.
 
They greeted Jacey

politely enough, but she sensed a certain reserve in their attitude.

Later, when Paulo had dropped them both off at La Primavera, she

mentioned it to Ingrid.

Ingrid shrugged.

"It's because you're Nicolas Schlemann's woman.

They're afraid of you."

"He's the one with the power," Jacey said, more sharply than she

intended.

"I'm just his current entertainment."

Ingrid looked at her, and then smiled.

"You can't blame them for being cautious.
 
You know Senor Schlemann's

reputation."
 
She put her hand lightly on

Jacey's shoulder.

"Come into my room for a nightcap.
 
I'll mix you something special."

Without really thinking about it, Jacey let herself be guided into

ingrid's apartment.
 
She sat on the settee while ingrid went to a

cupboard, took out some bottles, and mixed two drinks.

"Do you know who told me about that club?"
 
ingrid handed a glass to

Jacey, but did not sit down.

"Your pretty friend, Raoul Marquez."

"Really?"
 
Jacey was surprised.

"You're not going to tell me you've added Raoul to your list of

conquests?"

ingrid shook her head.

"No.
 
He is a nice young man, but quite wrong for me.
 
I would be very

bored with all that romantic nonsense.
 
If I want to fuck a man, I do

it, and that's that.
 
I don't want to receive red roses and poetry."

She moved behind the settee, and put her hands lightly on Jacey's

shoulders.

"But maybe that's what you would like?

Someone to make you feel special?
 
You know, you won't get it from

Nicolas Schlemann.
 
Why don't you exchange him for Raoul?
 
He would

make you much happier."

"That's not what I would like," Jacey said shortly.

"The last thing I want in my life is a romance.
 
Nicolas is absolutely

right for my purposes at the moment.
 
Good sex, and no strings."

She felt ingrid's fingers kneading her flesh.

"So your life is fine?

Then why are you tense?"

"I'm not," Jacey said abruptly.

ingrid said: "Did I tell you I once worked as a masseuse?
 
When I was a

medical student, I needed the money.
 
I was a real masseuse.
 
I did not

give quick hand jobs."
 
She laughed suddenly.

"Not very often, anyway."

Despite herself Jacey felt her body relax, ingrid's fingers were

strong, but soothing.
 
The wine, and ingrid's nightcap, had made her

drowsy.
 
She closed her eyes, and her body rocked slightly as Ingrid

worked on her neck and shoulder muscles.
 
She was not really aware of

exactly when Ingrid changed position, moving to sit next to her.
 
She

simply felt Ingrid's hands, palms flat, massaging her chest, making

circular movements.

"No' Jacey protested, without much conviction.

"Yes," Ingrid insisted softly.

"It will make you feel good."

Jacey realised that Ingrid was right.
 
She did feel good.
 
Relaxed, and

strangely sexy.
 
Ingrid's hands smoothed over her breasts, gently

now.

It was quite unlike any sensation she had ever had before.

"Now," Ingrid said, 'if you want me to stop, you must tell me.
 
Then we

will say good night, and that will be that.
 
I will not be offended."

Her fingers lingered near the buttons of Jacey's blouse.

"I find you attractive.
 
I want to make love to you.
 
But you have to

want it, too."

"I... don't know," Jacey murmured.

Ingrid opened her blouse.
 
She touched Jacey's nipples, massaging them

softly through her cotton bra.

"Tell me to stop, and I will."

Part of Jacey's mind prompted her to leave, but her body told her

something different.
 
She did not want the massage to stop.
 
Ingrid's

caresses were both soothing and pleasurable.
 
She felt Ingrid tug at

the thin straps of her bra, loosen them, and then unfasten the clasp at

the back.
 
Then Ingrid was kissing her, first on the neck and

shoulders, and moving down to her nipples.
 
Moving slowly, as if she

was enjoying the taste of Jacey's skin.
 
Her hands felt quite unlike a

man's.
 
They lingered, exploring.
 
Her mouth closed over one nipple,

and her tongue circled it gently.
 
Her other hand cupped Jacey's breast

and massaged it.
 
Jacey closed her eyes and sighed, curiously divorced

from reality.
 
Sleepy and warm.
 
So sleepy, in fact, that she wondered

vaguely if Ingrid had put more than alcohol in her 'nightcap'.

She felt ingrid's hands become rough and more demanding.
 
It broke the

mood, and when she opened her eyes, she was startled to see that Ingrid

had removed her linen jacket and cotton shirt, and was naked to the

waist.
 
Her body was angular and muscular, and her breasts small.

With her blonde hair tied back, she looked distinctly masculine.
 
Her

hands reached for the waistband of Jacey's skirt, and at the same time

she leant forward and kissed Jacey on the lips.
 
The kiss, and the