Erotic Amusements (17 page)

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Marie, sitting on a red velvet armchair, filing her nails.

“Marie, I’m sure you could join in. Sit on Roger’s face or something?”

“No,” said Roger effortfully. “This show is for Jeremy to watch. He needs to focus on watching Laura get fucked.”

“Can you see it, Jeremy?” asked Laura, upping her pace. “Can you see the cock inside me? God, it feels good. Marie, if I hold my pussy lips apart, can you lick me? Would that work?”

Roger simply grunted, too far gone to make reply, while Marie threw off her robe and knelt between Roger’s jerking knees, finding Laura’s offered clit easily, peeking out from above the rapid pistonings at its rear. She managed to fit her mouth between those distended lips and lapped enthusiastically.

Laura, held in place on a heavenly plateau, bounced and bucked, on and off Roger’s cock, in and out of Marie’s mouth. She let go of her pussy lips and moved her hands to her breasts, fondling and squeezing them, tossing her head, gazing sometimes at the ceiling and sometimes at Jeremy. How fabulously depraved she felt—she would certainly have to do this again. Perhaps with…

Marie’s tongue was taking her to that place outside her control, while Roger thrust his entire midsection up with his cock, ramming her so hard she could barely keep her balance. Jolted like a rider on a bucking bronco, she began to yell out her climax, feeling the steam rush from her ears and Roger’s orgasm boil beneath her.

“Rocky.” she screamed. “Rocky, fuck me, I’m yours.”

Fuck, did I really say his name?
she wondered groggily a few moments later, lying spent on the bed while Roger dealt with the condom and Marie pulled her wrap back around her nude body. She eyed Jeremy, who had tears in his eyes, but that was most likely the frustration. His cock was certainly still at full mast.

“What a naughty boy.” She heard Marie’s voice and watched her through half-closed eyes, taking a hairbrush from the vanity. “Nobody gave you permission for an erection, did they?”

Yes, let her deal with Jeremy. Leave me here to float away on orgasm island.

Through the swirl of postclimactic fog, clasped in Roger’s unwelcome embrace, she heard the untying of the bonds, heard Jeremy ordered over Marie’s lap, heard the crisp smack of her hand, followed by the harsher report of the brush against his bottom.
Marie must have a strong arm
, she mused.
I can’t spank for that long
.

Jeremy snuffled and howled into his ball gag, then there was a long, shuddering moan and then the spanking noises ceased.

“Oh, you bugger.” she heard Marie exclaim. “This is a new gown. That stain’ll never come out in the wash.”

Marie was still grumbling in the hot tub half an hour later, where the other club members had joined them.

“Jizzed all over my lovely new gown, he did,” she told Louise and Sandra, whose lips were pursed with aghast sympathy.

“That lovely lacy one you got in La Perla? Ooh, no, Marie. What a shame.”

“I paid for it, didn’t I?” Jeremy wheedled, lifting spaniel eyes to his recent disciplinarian.

“I should hope you won’t be sitting comfortably for a week, young man.” Marie’s tone was severe, but she was grinning coquettishly at him.

“These bubbles are taking away some of the pain,” he said.

Laura moved her arm under the froth, placing a hand on his thigh, but he studiedly avoided any response to her touch.
I did. I said it out loud. Oh hell.

Clive Evans, a fishmonger and town councillor, turned to her. “Looks like your dad has a fight on his hands over this new planning application.”

Laura gave him her most withering look. Did this boring man really expect her to jaw on about council business at a sex party? Some people had no idea what manners even were.

“Really?” she said frostily.

“We all know he’s in Charles Cordwainer’s pocket, of course, but there isn’t a damn thing any of us can do about it.”

“Clive,” expostulated Roger and Marie simultaneously, exchanging alarm-signal looks. “You can’t say that.”

“What? Why not? Bloody disgrace, I call it. I voted against it. But Cordwainer’s bribed everyone. He tried to bribe me but I turned it down. And I’m sorry to say it but it’s true—young Laura here’s father is taking the biggest backhanders of them all.”

“I’m sorry,” said Laura, fighting to retain her veneer of icy calm, “but you appear to be telling me that my father is colluding with Charles Cordwainer to achieve some kind of undesirable result. Is that right? Have I understood?”

“We don’t want Vegas-style casinos in Goldsands, but Cordwainer does, and what he wants, he gets. He’s bribed Trewin and the rest to pass the license application. I’m against it. It’s fair enough for me to stand up for my beliefs, isn’t it, Rog?”

“This might not be the time or the place…” Roger suggested.

“Bollocks. I call a spade a spade, and I don’t care where it is, or when.”

“If you want to call spades spades, do it in your own house.” Roger was riled now, his chest rising nobly from the fizzing bubbles. “Don’t expect to be invited back if you can’t keep a civil tongue.”

“Excuse me.” Laura rose to her feet and reached for a towel. “But I think it’s time I was getting home. Jeremy.”

He did not react at first, moving up closer to Marie and kissing her shoulder.

“Jeremy. We are leaving.”

“Oh. Right. Good night, everyone. Thank you for having me.”

He followed a furious and dripping Laura along the marble corridor to the nearest bathroom, clothes clutched under his arm.

“We’re getting out of here,” she snarled at him. “Get dressed. I have some things I want to ask you.”

They dressed in a silence that buzzed with tension and anger, then drove, wordlessly again, to Laura’s house.

Once in her bachelorette pad, she was finally able to let the words fly.

“Is it true?”

She handed him a beer, which he decided against opening.

“Is what true?”

“You’re the resident fucking expert on all things Cordwainer, aren’t you? So is it true that he and Daddy…” She couldn’t repeat the accusation.

“You really didn’t know? I’m surprised. I thought your
boyfriend
might have told you.”

“My boyfriend? Yes. I thought he might have told me, Jeremy.”

“I don’t mean me. I mean the sainted Rocky Anderson. The real man. Your bit of biker rough.”

“Oh, do fuck off, Jeremy. Don’t you ever fantasise during sex? Just stop being so fucking suburban and monogamous and answer the damn question.”

“Okay. I’ll answer the damn question. Yes, I did know that there were links between your father and Cordwainer. Everyone knows it, Laura. Everyone.”

Laura, trembling too much to stay upright, subsided into the leather couch beside Jeremy.

“Is there any proof, though? What exactly is it between them?”

Jeremy took a breath. “I don’t know exactly. But as Clive said, it’s common knowledge that Cordwainer has been distributing so many sweeteners among the councillors and police of Goldsands that people are starting to call him Willy Wonka. And your dad was especially keen to push this casino license through. We think he’s going to be a major shareholder. There are some tape recordings that have come into the office, conversations he’s had with some of the other councillors. They’re pretty unequivocal. He’s in it up to his neck. I’ve also heard suggestions of building contracts that your dad has obtained improperly, with a little help from his friend. Threats, bullyboy tactics, blackmail. All that good stuff.”

Laura put her palms together and pressed the fingertips to her lips, thinking as fast as her synapses would allow.

“He could get into trouble? There’s enough to get him into serious trouble?”

“Oh yes, Laura. More than enough.”

She turned to him, desperation driving her on. “And you—you are going to expose him, aren’t you? In your grubby little article.”

“Laura, I’m a journalist. It won’t be personal. For what it’s worth, I do care about you. I’ve grown close to you. But I know you’ve been using me all along, so I don’t feel too bad about the way I’ve used you.”

“You
bastard
.” Laura lashed out, but Jeremy, usually so compliant in any physical situation, discovered his buried strength and caught her before she could do any damage.

“I’m not the bastard, Laura,” he said, clearly and precisely. “Cordwainer is the bastard. Now, do you agree that he needs to be stopped? He’s a loan shark, a protection racketeer, a slum landlord, the lowest of the low. And your father colludes with him. You can see how I’m fixed. Morally, I have no choice.”

“Morally?”
Laura spat the word, unable to follow it up, so speechless with rage and fear had he rendered her.

“Yes,” said Jeremy levelly. “Morally.”

“You’d sell me and Daddy for your scoop?”

“If it meant Goldsands didn’t turn into some tin-pot version of Atlantic City, yes.”

“Oh, I see, you
care
about Goldsands. You’re not just biding your time on the local rag until a London editor comes calling? I was so wrong about you, Jeremy. You have no ambition after all.”

“Don’t be stupid. I’d move to a London paper like a shot. But I grew up here, I have family here and maybe I’ll bring up my own kids here. Maybe I won’t. But I’d like the option. I’m certainly not bringing them up in Sin-on-Sea.”

“Sin-on-Sea. God, you should be working for a tabloid.”

“Thanks. But that’s what Cordwainer wants, d’you see? He’s turning Goldsands into this coastal sleaze pit. He’ll open the casino, then there’ll be brothels, then the drug barons will move in. You know it. And he’ll control them all.”

“What’s wrong with a free market?” Laura sulked. “If that’s what people want.”

“People don’t want it, Laura. Not people here. He has to be stopped. Did you ever go to the China Palace?”

“Yeah, they did the best crispy duck. But you know as well as I do that it burnt down back in the winter.”

“It burnt down because the owner didn’t pay his protection money. I think you’ll find that the man with the flaming torch was your beloved Rocky.”

Laura was silent for a while, chewing on a knuckle. “Supposing you’re right about all this. Supposing it’s all true. Is there any way you can keep Daddy’s name out of your exposé?”

“He’s guilty, Laura.”

“Can’t we go after Rocky instead? Rocky and that Flipp freak? Can’t they be the fall guys?” She turned her most beseeching look on the man she had so seriously underestimated. “I’d help you, Jeremy. If you promise to keep Daddy out of it.”

“The council thing is a big part of it, though…” Jeremy demurred.

“Surely you’ve got enough with the protection racket and all the rest of it? Can’t you stick with that? Spill the beans about Rocky’s part in it all, and mention that he employs runaway mental cases, or whatever that girl is? That’s enough, Jeremy. It really has to be. Because if you decide to involve Daddy…”

Jeremy let that thought hang in the air for a couple of beats.

“What?” he asked softly.

“I…won’t love you anymore. Does it mean anything to you, that I’d sacrifice Rocky so you can have your moment of glory? I’d do that for you. Rocky is nothing to me now.”

Jeremy considered this proposition, frowning at the unopened beer can.

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

Laura put a shaking hand on his thigh.

“My hero,” she said, before kissing him tenderly on the lips.

“Good morning,
Goldsands Gazette
, Lynda speaking, how may I help you?”

Michelle put a hand over her mouth, trying to mask her sudden shuddering breath. It wouldn’t do for the receptionist to think she had some kind of pervert on the line. Though actually…

She swallowed a bubble of hysterical laughter, drew a breath and uncovered her mouth.

“Hello, yes, I need to speak to a reporter, please. I think I have a story they might be interested in.”

“Okay, is it about a local event?”

“A…local event?”

“Y’know, fete, school concert, charity fun run…?”

“Oh, no, no. It’s something that needs to be looked into. Investigated.”

“Oh, right. Hold on a second. I’ll see if anyone’s free.”

Placed on hold, Michelle contemplated ending the call, but somehow the soothing sounds of Fleetwood Mac’s “Albatross” coming through the receiver calmed her into waiting.

“Hi again.” Lynda the receptionist again, sounding mildly flustered. “Sorry, could you give me an idea of what you want to talk about? Is it to do with something controversial, for instance, or a campaign or some kind?”

“I think controversial about covers it,” Michelle said with a bark of a laugh. “If I said the name Charles Cordwainer…” She bit her lip, waiting for the light to dawn.

“Oh. Just a moment, please.”

The albatross batted lazy wings through the blue skies for another few minutes, then the phone was snatched up and Michelle heard a hubbub of background voices before a man spoke.

“Hello, my name’s Jeremy Weill. You have a story regarding Charles Cordwainer?”

“Yes, I do. Could I meet with you, please? I don’t feel I can really do this over the phone.”

“Of course. Are you in Goldsands?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s a good place for you? Could I come to your home?”

Michelle baulked. The bar was busy already with the midmorning coffee crowd, and there was no telling when Cordwainer might drop by for a look at the books.

“Not really,” she said, her voice low and tense. “What about the nature reserve? Could we meet there? In the car park? Talk while we walk or something?”

“Okay. Nature reserve it is. Can you get there in half an hour?”

“Yes, I can. Yes. Thanks.”

“Oh—what’s your name? How will I know you?”

“My name’s Michelle. I’ll be wearing a floral patterned wrap dress and carrying a red handbag.”

She felt pleasingly like a resistance member setting forth on an espionage mission and she smiled to herself on replacing the receiver in its cradle. The man had sounded eager and interested. At long last, some power of her own lay in her hands.

The nature reserve was rarely busy. It lay on the western coastal fringes of Goldsands, past the broad swathe of caravan parks, beyond the point where the beaches turned to unpopular shingle. A rare and particular type of reedbed meant that it hosted some unusual wildlife, mainly species of birds, but also water rodents and a wide variety of insects.

Michelle crunched across the gravel car park and leaned on the fence that separated the swampy reedbeds from the walkways, looking out across the huge green-brown expanse. Only a few birdwatchers with binoculars kept her company here, lurking in the specially built hides that could be found dotting the walkways.

“If they knew about this,” she murmured to herself, picturing the reeds ripped up and concreted over, the intense stillness replaced with flashing lights and booming loudspeakers. “I’m doing the right thing. I am.”

She heard a car pull up and park with a gravelly flourish and knew straightaway that it must be the journalist. She turned towards the source of the noise and smiled to see a well-dressed young man in an open-necked shirt and linen trousers, slinging a satchel over his shoulder and peering around the car park.

He trotted up to her, shouting, “Michelle?”

“You must be Jeremy.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Traffic’s dreadful today. Have you been here long?”

“No, just a few minutes.”

They looked at each other, on the brink of turning the mood from one of casual pleasantry to something darker, neither one wanting to take that first step.
It would be so much easier just to take this man for a walk around the reserve, pretend that we are holidaymakers on a jolly. Why does this difficult stuff have to be done?

“So, um,” opened Jeremy, with a look that seemed to apologise for having to spoil the atmosphere, “how do you know Charles Cordwainer?”

She held out a hand. “Shall we walk? Have you been here before?”

“I’m ashamed to say I haven’t,” Jeremy said, offering his arm and heading towards the walkway with his informant. “I’ve lived here most of my life. Terrible, isn’t it?”

“I suppose a lot of people who live here could say the same thing,” she mused. “And yet it’s such a beautiful, peaceful place. It deserves to be more widely visited.”

“Yes, it does.”

Michelle sensed that Jeremy was trying to think of a polite way to steer the conversation back to Cordwainer. She took pity on him.

“That’s why I don’t want Cordwainer to raze it to the ground.”

“To…what?”

“Oh yes, that’s his plan. He hasn’t put it before the council yet, but he will, as soon as his corrupt officials manage to get its status of Special Scientific Interest revoked. And the council will grant permission, because so many of them are in his pocket, and this place will become Goldsands’ very own supercasino complex, complete with showbars and tacky hotels and, well, you name it. I don’t think the ducks will be too happy. And neither am I.”

“But…are you sure? I know he had the casino license approved, but I had no idea he had a location in mind.
Here?
How do you know this?”

Michelle stopped and leaned over a paling, watching a family of moorhens fuss and quack amid the reeds.

“I’ve heard it from his own lips. I’ve heard him in discussion with Councillor Trewin, with the chief of the county police, with the senior member of a firm of local solicitors, to name but a few. He’s been talking about it for months.”

“So you work for him?”

Michelle sighed. “In a way.”

“I’m sorry to press you.” Jeremy turned and put one arm over the fence, leaning in towards Michelle. “But I can’t do anything unless I know you’re on the level. Can you verify any of this?”

Michelle reached into her bag and took out a sheaf of papers. One contained an architect’s blueprint for the casino complex. Another was a list of boxes to be ticked before the planning application could be made, with names of collaborators peppered about the text. The final sheet was a first draft of a legal document pertaining to planning applications, signed and notarised by Charles Cordwainer and his friendly neighbourhood solicitor.

“I…see.” He stared at them. “Do you need these?”

“Take them. They’re photocopies of photocopies. Obviously Cordwainer has the originals.”

“Are you his…PA?” Jeremy looked up, seeming to search Michelle’s face for signs of her relationship to the object of their conversation.

“No. I’m…it’s personal.”

“Oh.” Jeremy bit his lip for a moment and Michelle knew he was trying to back up the million questions that this statement had set in motion. “Forgive me for asking—of course, you needn’t reply. But I’ve been interested in Cordwainer for a while, and I haven’t managed to uncover any signs of a personal life. Until now.”

“He’s a very private person. Except…he isn’t really.”

“I see. Well, no, I don’t see.”

“I could certainly interest a tabloid in his tastes. If I was that kind of woman. If I needed the money. Which I don’t.”

“You don’t want payment?”

“No. I just want…justice.”

“He has mistreated you?”

“I don’t suppose he’d think so but…” Michelle’s voice cracked. The tears she had been fighting for days made their renewed presence felt. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Look, do you want to come and sit down? In my car?”

He took her arm and led the quietly sobbing woman back to the car park, helping her into the passenger seat of his 4x4. There he let her cry on his shoulder until, mascara wrecked and eyes red, she was able to blow her nose and return to coherence.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “It’s just that I haven’t said anything to anyone…I didn’t realise how hard it would be to say the words.”

“You must have loved him.”

“I did. I still do…except I hate him. Oh, I don’t know. I’m a mess. I should never have got involved.”

“How did you?”

“I worked for him. Managed one of his bed-and-breakfast places.”

“And you fell for…what? Power? Magnetism? Charm?”

“All of those. Well, maybe not charm. He is very charismatic and very forceful. Hard to say no to.”

“Well, the majority of our councillors would agree. He obviously has some stellar powers of persuasion. But over time you came to realise that he wasn’t all you thought he was? Did he do something to hurt you?”

“Yes, he did something to hurt me. He likes hurting people, you see. He’s interested in…I don’t know…watching how his actions cause reactions. It’s all quite scientific, dispassionate even. He doesn’t care about people at all.”

“Is he a sadist?”

“Yes. That’s part of it. He likes to inflict all kinds of pain, not just physical. And he needs control of everything. Lovers, friends, towns. I think he’s an old-fashioned megalomaniac. He would just love to take over the world.”

Jeremy half smiled. “Bit of a Dr. Evil character, you’d say?”

She chuckled ruefully. “God, yes. And it took me so long to work it out. I’m obviously just a clueless bimbo. Absolutely his type, though—so easy to manipulate and control.”

“So there was quite a kinky element in your relationship? Power play? Dominance and submission?”

“Oh yes, that was the entire foundation. I’m sorry, does that shock you?”

Jeremy laughed out loud. “Nothing shocks me, Michelle. I’ll let you into a secret—I’m that way inclined myself.”

“Oh. You don’t seem the type.”

“I’m not. Not a Cordwainer type. I like a strong woman, if you catch my drift.”

She caught her breath, then giggled with embarrassment. “Oh, I see. Goodness, I didn’t think I’d be discussing the finer points of my sex life with a journalist today. What on earth is happening to my life?”

“Cordwainer happened to it,” commented Jeremy grimly.

“I think he’s ruined me for any other man now,” she said, gazing wistfully over the reserve.

“Oh, don’t say that. You’re young and attractive and clearly intelligent.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m older than you, though. I’m heading straight for my midlife crisis, if I’m allowed one of those. Perhaps I’ll get a job in one of Cordwainer’s girlie bars, or perhaps I’ll just dye my hair purple and go and live in a commune on some island somewhere.”

Jeremy patted her shaky hand. “Perhaps you’ll find happiness. It’s still out there for the taking, you know. What did he do to you, to knock your confidence so badly?”

“He gave me away.”

“Gave you? Away? What, like a coat he’d grown out of or something?”

“Exactly like that. I was his submissive for two years. He was so lovely, to start with. So considerate and so attentive. He always made sure I was happy, I was getting pleasure and enjoying myself. About a year into the relationship, he decided he wanted to…show me off.”

“Exhibit you?”

“Yes. He started up this kind of private sex club. He’d invite powerful local men to watch me…do things…have things done to me. Eventually they were allowed to join in. It became a regular gang bang. He liked to watch me with other men, he said. He liked to watch other men use me for their pleasure. It gave him pleasure. And he knew it gave me pleasure. It did, up to a point. It made me happy if he was happy. But…” Her voice trailed away, uneven once more.

“Oh, Michelle.”

“I’d have carried on doing it forever, if it meant I could stay with him,” she whispered passionately. “But he gave me away. And he never even asked me…never told me…”

Jeremy silently handed her his handkerchief.

“Who…did he give you to?” he asked over her low sobs. “Are you still working for Cordwainer? Still at the B and B?”

“I manage the Fairhaven,” she croaked.

“That’s his, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And…he gave me to Trewin. The builder. Councillor.”

Jeremy’s hands gripped the steering wheel until the knuckles whitened.

“Trewin? You…belong…to him. In some way?”

“I told him to fuck off. I don’t want to be with him.”

“And what does Cordwainer think of that?”

“He doesn’t know. Yet. I suppose I’ll lose the hotel.”

“Michelle, if I publish with this, won’t he know that you’re the source? Doesn’t that put you in danger?”

She looked at him, long and hard and desperate. “Yes. It does. But I don’t care.”

“You should care. You don’t deserve the shitstorm that’s coming. Listen. Don’t go back to the hotel. Go somewhere far away. Somewhere Cordwainer doesn’t know about and can’t trace you to.”

“If he wants to find me, he’ll find me. He’s got high-ranking police officers in his corner.”

“Okay. Look. This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to drive you to a caravan park my sister runs. It’s twenty miles down the coast, near Bridehaven. You can stay there while we try to work out something better. Or until Cordwainer is behind bars. Whichever works out quickest. You’ll have no need to leave the park—there’s a supermarket on site, and I’ll tell my sister to run you a tab there and charge it to me. Okay? It’s important, Michelle. You know how big this is, don’t you?”

Michelle simply stared, her breath coming in great gasps. “Is it really so bad?”

“Yes, it really is. Now I have these documents, I plan to run my story tomorrow or the day after. I will also contact the police. I have a lot of other information on Cordwainer, about bribery and corruption at the council, and about some of his other activities. But this is the hook I need, to really make it sink into the public awareness. The nature reserve, and his plans for it, are what will stop this wicked, evil man, Michelle. And he must be stopped. You know that, don’t you?”