Hot Pursuit (9 page)

Lucy led the way up the incline. The borrowed jeans fitted snugly to her pert backside, embracing both orbs as closely as a second skin. A mid-morning breeze snagged at her hair and stroked ripples along the light jersey Anne had supplied. The fabric was occasionally pulled tight across the swell of her large breasts, making the shape of her rigid nipples clearly discernible. She approached the peak carefully and, as they neared the summit, she tentatively held out a hand to indicate they should slow. ‘This is it,' she whispered. ‘We're here.'

Anne was trying not to notice the sway of the brunette's hips, while constantly fretting about the malaise that had come over her since meeting the beautiful stranger. Despite her best efforts not to be aroused by Lucy's seductive gait, or provocative smile, desire once again fuelled a sultry heat between her legs. She inwardly groaned, certain her body wasn't sufficiently recovered to cope with any more passion, but aware her will wasn't strong enough to resist. Seeing Lucy turn to face her, anxious to be graced by the salacious lilt of her smile, she paused from the nuisance of the ascent and grinned.

‘We're here,' Lucy repeated. She pointed to the building that loomed beyond the rise and said, ‘This
is the central baronial hall.' There was something in her tone of voice that could have been fear, or maybe even respect, but she studied the grand building with her emotions hidden behind a mask of equanimity. ‘This is one of the last five baronial halls in Great Britain, and it's possibly where we'll find the library of deeds.'

Anne surveyed the stately home and the splendour of the surrounding grounds. She could make out stables hiding behind the central building, paved pathways cutting through the extensive greenery, and lush copses lining a picturesque river within the estate. While she was impressed by the location's majesty and grandeur, she was apprehensive about what would now happen. Something about the building, and Lucy's subdued mood, made her distinctly uneasy.

Their night together had been an incessant bout of passion, interrupted only by a return visit to the service station's restaurant and concluded with a brief, but satisfying, sleep. At first Lucy hadn't said much about who she was, or how she had arrived at the service station without proper clothes, but Anne hadn't been troubled by her reticence. Just being in the woman's presence, surrendering to her and basking in the rewards that came from that submission, proved more than enough. It had been a night of torrid abandon, a realisation of her most wayward fantasies, and a telling revelation of the emptiness in which she had previously existed. Learning that so much passion dwelt inside her, and that its pleasures could be so easily tapped, was something akin to finding religion or discovering the real meaning to her life. When Lucy had intimated that there were more revelations to be made, Anne had almost swooned with the promise of excitement.

But, remembering that she had said the first of those experiences might happen at the baronial hall, Anne was now chilled by a shiver of doubt. Trying to make sense of what was happening, and looking for some way to extricate herself from the unconditional commitment she had made, Anne asked, ‘What's a library of deeds?'

Lucy shook her head. She held out one hand, tilted her fingers expectantly, and Anne realised she was being asked for the binoculars that had been slung around her neck. Anxious to please, she passed them over and stood quietly as Lucy inspected the building. Peering past her new friend, taking in the details without the benefit of the magnified lenses, she saw a large car parked outside the imposing front doors. It was a vintage model that looked similar to the jalopy she had seen in the motel's car park and Anne guessed it had to be the same vehicle. She wondered if the dark-suited figure standing with one foot on the running-board might be the driver. The prospect conjured up images of masters and slaves and memories of all the exciting debauchery that Lucy had mentioned. Unaware she was doing it, Anne licked her lips. She placed a hand on Lucy's shoulder and asked, ‘Who's he?'

‘Do you remember what we discussed last night when we were in bed together?'

Anne blushed and glanced around the desolate landscape suddenly fearful that someone might have overheard. She and Lucy had discussed several potential outcomes for the day ahead and Anne was torn between embarrassment and arousal as she recalled each one. At the time she had convinced herself they were playing a fantasy game, merely speculating about imaginary situations they might find arousing. But now she realised Lucy had been serious.

The thrill of anticipation stole over her with renewed force. Apprehension twisted her bowels and cramped her stomach. The inner muscles of her sex rippled with unbidden and urgent longing. ‘I remember a lot of things about last night,' she said guardedly. ‘Could you be more specific?'

Lucy continued to survey the baronial hall through her binoculars. ‘Do you remember my saying I had to do something here?'

‘You were going to look for a library. And maybe deliver a letter,' Anne said, nodding. The conversation was easy to recall. Anne had asked if Lucy wanted to borrow a particular book and, struggling to contain her laughter, Lucy had said it wasn't that sort of library. Anne had felt so foolish for misunderstanding that she hadn't bothered to ask for a fuller explanation. ‘I remember you saying you have things to do here.'

‘And you remember promising you'd do whatever I asked in order to help.'

Anne's cheeks turned crimson. The memory of offering her unconditional servitude burnt more brightly than any other. She had been on her knees, her nose buried in the moist haven of Lucy's sex, and the promise had seemed like a fair exchange in return for the pleasure of Lucy's company. Swallowing thickly as she struggled to manage the words, she asked, ‘Is that what you want me to do now? You want me to . . . to . . . You want me to do one of those things?'

Lucy lowered the binoculars.

There was so much patience and understanding in her expression Anne wanted to melt with gratitude. She wouldn't have been surprised if Lucy had become frustrated, reminded Anne that she had made a promise and insisted that she follow through on what
they had agreed. Instead, she merely looked as though she had boundless sympathy for Anne's nerves.

Tossing her head in the direction of the figure beside the car, Lucy said, ‘If you still feel able to help me, if you think you'll be able to do
any
of what you promised last night, I'd like you to distract him.'

Anne clenched the inner muscles of her thighs together to stop herself from shivering. She regarded the figure, made miniature by distance, and asked, ‘Who is he? Is he a master?'

‘No,' Lucy said quietly. She sounded as though she found the concept vaguely amusing and was struggling not to laugh. ‘He's not a master. He's just one of the staff.'

As their evening had progressed Lucy had told Anne a little about the baronial halls, masters, favourites, staff and pets. She spoke of an underworld where sexual submission was commonplace and sadomasochism had become a way of life. Lucy described herself as a
favourite
, talked reverently about her adored master, and mentioned that staff were little more than employees who tolerated the wayward lifestyles of those they were paid to serve. It had been a lot to take on board in one evening but Anne hadn't doubted a word. However, now she was faced with brushing much closer to that underworld, she wondered if she should make an excuse and try to escape before things went too far.

She clutched her blouse tight across her shoulders.

‘What will I have to do for him?'

Lucy picked up the binoculars again and was silent for a moment. Her brow furrowed with concentration and her full lips thinned. But, when she lowered the glasses from her eyes her smile was once again broad and inviting. She stepped closer to Anne's side, placed
an arm around her waist and whispered curt instructions against her earlobe. The warmth of her breath and the music of her voice were almost enough to make Anne swoon but she was still uneasy about the enormity of what she was being asked to do. The previous evening Lucy's tawdry suggestions had made her pulse quicken and accelerated the heat between her legs. But now those responses were tempered by grim reservations.

Uneasily, she pulled herself from Lucy's embrace. Licking her lips – trying not to shrink from the prospect of what was being asked, or go the other way and embrace it too eagerly – Anne regarded her new friend coolly. ‘How do you know that will appeal to him?'

Lucy puffed out her chest. ‘I told you yesterday: I have a gift. I have an ability. I only need to look at a person and I instinctively know how best they can be pleased.'

The words made Anne shiver. With perfect recollection she remembered that Lucy had said the same thing in the motel room while brushing her nipple. Hearing the sentiment for a second time was enough to rekindle the fond memory of that intimate caress and she basked in the unbidden pleasure. It crossed her mind that she could put her faith in Lucy's judgement and that confidence made the decision for her.

‘It's an ability that's always served me well in the past,' Lucy continued arrogantly. ‘And it won't fail us this time.'

Nodding agreement, Anne drew a deep breath to steady her nerves and started toward the guard. Lucy caught her wrist, pulled her back into her embrace and let their bodies rest briefly together. The pressure from her breasts beneath the jersey and the warm
penetration of her kiss rekindled Anne's arousal. The sultry exploration of her tongue revealed a greedy appetite and made Anne hungry to experience more. Surprising herself, she returned the kiss with the same lust-fuelled fury. Her lower lip was caught between Lucy's teeth, the brief spark of pain aroused an unexpected rush of pleasure, and then they pulled their faces apart. Lingering in the promise of her embrace Anne was suddenly sure she was doing the right thing.

‘That was just for luck,' Lucy said softly. Her fingers lingered against Anne's cheek and the gentle caress of her touch was maddeningly exciting. ‘Do everything like I told you and we'll carry on from that kiss when we're together again.'

Trembling with emotions she had never known before, Anne staggered reluctantly away from Lucy and began her short trek across the open front of the estate toward the hall's main doors. She felt small and vulnerable as she made her approach and, once she was away from Lucy's reassuring presence, her worries returned with fresh force. The skirt, which Lucy had insisted she wore, was way too short and far too revealing. The tight blouse, with a string of buttons undone to expose her cleavage, was unnecessarily obvious. When the guard glanced in her direction, his gaze narrowing shrewdly, she was stung by the fear that he could easily see that she was a mere diversion. Lucy's plan to distract him seemed painfully transparent and she fretted that her help would be over before it could be properly begun.

Queasy with dread, she resisted the urge to glance back over her shoulder and plundered bravely on. Even though Lucy had explained the specific details of what she was expected to do, Anne found herself dwelling on only one key phrase. While enjoying the
sweetness of Lucy's whispered words against her ear she had listened to a detailed breakdown of the torrid behaviour that was expected from her. Lucy had stressed that it was vital the guard be encouraged to move away from the door and kept away for long enough to allow her to gain entry to the hall. And, on a subconscious level, Anne had heard and understood all those instructions. But the phrase that stayed in her mind was Lucy's sultry use of the word
wetplay
.

Wetplay . . . wetplay . . . wetplay
. . . Its constant echo overshadowed every other thought and resounded through her mind with every step.
Wetplay . . . wetplay . . . wetplay
. . .

‘This is private property,' the guard intoned solemnly.

He was tall, dark-haired and imposing in his uniform.

Anne thought his square jaw could have looked manly and attractive under other circumstances but, set in the shade of his angular peaked cap, he appeared sinister and unapproachable. She tested him with her most disarming smile and knew he remained singularly unimpressed. ‘I figured it was private property. I think I'm a little lost.'

The threat of thunderclouds lurked above them, turning the sky slate and giving the shadows a sharper edge. The polished windows on the imposing building were black glass and stared down at her like blind, uncaring eyes. Anne's doubts threatened to make her turn around and run but she cautioned herself she was doing this for her new friend and didn't want to disappoint Lucy. Her reservations remained high and incessant. Her stomach was an agony of doubt, excitement and too much daring, but she valiantly held her ground as she tried to win a smile from the guard.

He contemplated her sternly. ‘Head back the way you came,' he said, pointing officiously. ‘Stay on the roads and you'll come across signs soon enough. Wherever you're looking for it's bound to be signposted.'

‘That doesn't help me with my immediate problem,' she told him.

His frown deepened and she was chilled by a swift rush of dread. If Lucy was wrong, or if her new friend's ability had somehow failed her on this occasion, Anne could see that she wouldn't be able to distract the guard.

‘Head back the way you came,' he said again. He was raising his voice, as though she might have misheard him. ‘And, if you stay . . .'

‘I need to pee,' Anne said quickly. Blushing after saying the words, and demurely lowering her gaze, she studied him through the flutter of her upper lashes. She crossed her legs to make the act look convincing and pressed the heel of her palm against her crotch. ‘I'll go back the way you told me,' she promised. ‘And I'll apologise now for trespassing, or whatever law it is I'm breaking, but you have to point me in the direction of a loo.'