Interview with a Master (2 page)

“One day I
cut martial arts classes and came back home early. I could hear Claire outside. She was swimming, and I went to the kitchen window and watched her for a long time. She was wearing a tiny bikini and she was stunning – she had a sensational figure; her breasts fascinated me. I couldn’t take my eyes off them – the shape, and the way they pressed together and glistened and heaved each time she came up for breath. I was in lust! I watched her swim half a dozen laps and then I went out through the side entrance of the house and skirted the gardens. I went to the guesthouse. I had a key. I let myself in and went to the bathroom. She had three shelves stacked with lotions and potions – women’s cosmetics. I’m sure you know the kind of things I’m talking about.”

Leticia
nodded.

I stopped for a moment and smiled
contritely. “I drilled a peep hole through her bathroom wall,” I confessed. “And then disguised it behind some bottles of cosmetics. There was a bushy garden alongside the building. I went out and crouched in the shadows, and waited for her to finish swimming.”

Leticia
was following me with her eyes as I moved around the room. I returned to the fireplace and stood there for a moment, lost in thought until I heard her clear her throat discreetly. When I turned around she was looking up at me with her pen poised over her notepad and a curious expectant expression on her face. Not one of approval, but one of intrigue.

“And she caught you?”

I shook my head. “No. Not the first time. But the next afternoon, when I went back to the garden and waited for her to finish her laps, I was surprised. She normally swam for an hour. This day, she was back, standing wet in her bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, not thirty minutes after we had finished studying for the day. I didn’t think anything of it at the time – but I wasn’t thinking, not with my brains anyhow.”

“What happened?”
Leticia’s voice was suddenly hushed.

I lit a cigarette, and then went to the bar
, dropped ice into a tumbler, and splashed whisky over the top. I held up the bottle in silent invitation. Leticia shook her head.

I sipped thoughtfully at my drink, and swirled the ice round until it clinked against the sides of the glass.

“When she unwrapped the towel, she still had her bikini on. Her nipples were hard. I remember that clearly. They were stiff little lumps against the shimmering fabric of her bathers and I gasped out loud and almost gave myself away. But she seemed not to have heard. She was humming to herself.”

“
And then…?”

“
And then her hips began to undulate like she was in the midst of a slow erotic dance. Her breathing became harder and faster. She backed herself up against the bathroom wall and closed her eyes. Her head was thrown back, and she began to touch herself – gliding her fingers up and down her body. Then she slid one hand down inside her bikini bottoms and rubbed her pussy until she was moaning through an orgasm.”

I finished my drink in a
single gulp while Leticia sat staring blankly at a spot on the far wall, as if she were hypnotized. When she stirred again, there was a husk in her voice I hadn’t recognized before.

“And then what happened?”

“She disappeared from sight for a long moment,” I explained. “I heard the water in the shower running. When she stepped back into view, she untied her bikini top. She stood on tiptoes, with her hands cupped under her breasts and she pinched the nipples until they were hard little buttons. I was amazed at how large and firm her breasts really were. She stood admiring herself in the mirror – twisting and turning so she could see herself from every angle.”

“And so you could see too.”

I nodded. “Exactly. Then she disappeared from my sight again. I thought she was in the shower. I was just about to head back to the main house when something dark moved across the peep hole and I heard her voice.”

“Oh, my God!”

I nodded again. Even now, I could remember exactly that moment of dire panic and horror – the moment I had been discovered. It came to me like a relived nightmare, detailed and textured. I remembered the hot flush of fear, and then a near-fainting sensation as all the blood drained away from my face.

“What did she say?”
Leticia unfolded her legs and placed both her feet flat on the floor, leaning forward attentively with her elbows braced on her knees and her chin cupped between her hands.

“She was furious,” I said. “She hissed at me.
Her voice was low. She told me to go to the front door immediately, and if I wasn’t there, she was going straight to my father. She threatened to tell him everything.”

Leticia
gasped. Her hand went to her mouth, brushed against her lip. “What did you do?” She leaned a little further forward on the chair, and I caught a glimpse of pale cleavage. The upper part of her chest was dusted with a light trace of freckles, and the creamy skin above the neckline of her sweater was tightly compressed. I looked away to refill my glass, and dropped in two more cubes of ice.

“I went to the front door – in a lather of fear and panic,” I admitted.
“I had never been so scared. This wasn’t like facing an opponent in a fight – this was a totally new kind of fear. It was a guilty fear.”

Leticia
’s eyes clung to mine, and then she started to shake her head with slow dawning realization.  “But she didn’t tell your father, did she? She didn’t say anything. She’d trapped and caught you, and I’m guessing – from what you’ve told me already – that she started to blackmail you.”

I smiled. I raised my glass in a mock salute. “Brilliant deduction,” I said. “For that is exactly what she did.
Claire blackmailed me for sex. She used me. Made me her slave, I guess. Over the weeks that followed she forced me to submit to her every whim….”

Leticia
shifted in her seat, like she was trying to make herself more comfortable. She chewed the end of her pen and I watched her, saying nothing, but seeing the curiosity burning in her eyes.

“What…. what happened when you went to the front door of the
guesthouse?” she asked politely, her voice very timid as though she suddenly feared I might deny her the rest of the story. “What did Claire say to you?”

I set my glass down and stepped away from the bar. I crossed the room and sat next to
Leticia. Our thighs brushed, and I felt the warm suppleness of her flesh through the fabric of her skirt. She turned her body to face me. Her eyes were wide and luminous, and there was a sudden unnatural blush upon her cheeks.

“Before we go any further, I must warn you
that the things I am going to share with you throughout this interview are very explicit. I can either censor the descriptions, or I can tell you in detail. The choice is yours. But if you want the detailed explanation, then you must be prepared for graphic language. I’m no fan of political correctness, so you can’t expect me to keep apologizing if your delicate, sensitive ears are offended by language.”

Leticia
sat up stiffly; the sudden movement pressed her breasts hard against the fabric of her sweater so their shape became more clearly outlined. She clasped her hands in her lap and looked primly officious. “Mr. Noble, I am a fully trained and experienced freelance journalist. I deal in detail. Your language will not offend me, I assure you.”

I sat back, and stared hard at her face for long seconds. She met my gaze, and her eyes were steady. “Fine,” I said. I got to my feet and went to the window. The
drapes were drawn. I edged them apart an inch and stared out at the night sky. Here in the hills, miles away from the city, the air somehow seemed clearer. It was most apparent at night. Overhead the stars shone bright and vivid, a million winking lights free of the filter of hazy city smog.

“When I went to the front door of the
guesthouse Claire was there, waiting for me,” I said, still looking out of the window. I dropped the curtains at last and turned back to face the room. It was gloomy. With only the glow from the fireplace, the light was soft, shadows darkening the corners and the ceiling. Leticia’s face was pale and white.

“Was she angry?”

“She pretended to be,” I said. “But when I saw her face framed in the doorway, I didn’t see outrage. There was a flash of vindictive triumph in her eyes. She looked like a predator. It was in the glimmer of her gaze, and the way she held her body. There was steel in her expression, but I had the feeling I was a fly walking into a carefully woven spider’s web. And I was.

“She accused me of spying on her. I denied it, of course. She slapped me across the face. She had pulled on a bathrobe, but the sash around her waist was tied loosely. It fell open and I stood there staring down at her breasts. She covered herself up and told me to follow her. I did. She led me into her bedroom and then she turned on me, shaking with sudden fury.

“She told me she was going straight to my father, and then to the police. That frightened the hell out of me. Maybe I could deal with my father’s outrage if
the whole incident could be kept private, but the thought of a family scandal – the newspapers, the publicity – that truly terrified me.”

“She slapped you?”
Leticia husked.

I nodded. “She accused me of spying again, but when I denied it this time, I tried to tell her that I had noticed water leaking into the garden from the
guesthouse and I was trying to locate the problem. She laughed. ‘I know what you want!’ she said. ‘You want to look at my pussy. You’ve been crouched outside in the dirt, thinking about putting your cock inside me!’”

“What did you say?”
Leticia whispered hoarsely.

I shrugged. “Nothing. I didn’t get the chance. Suddenly Claire pulled the
bathrobe off her shoulders and let it fall around her ankles. She stood before me, completely nude, and she was exquisite. Her skin was the color and texture of marble, her legs perfectly sculpted. She stood there with her hands on her hips and I couldn’t help but stare at her. Then she reached up and grabbed a handful of my hair.”

“Oh, my God,” I heard
Leticia whisper, but I didn’t stop talking. I was in the flow of retelling the events, and the images were clear and vivid as though they happened only yesterday.

“She dropped onto
her back on the bed and her thighs fell apart. Somehow I sensed instinctively what she wanted from me. I got down to my knees and she twisted her handful of my hair, but the rage was suddenly gone. Now she was consumed by something altogether different.”

“Lust.”

I nodded again. “It was in her voice. She was suddenly breathless. She was lying back on the bed and she was panting. She wriggled closer to me, and then lifted her hips. Then she pulled my head down between her thighs and I started to lick around her pussy until I discovered her clitoris and then ran my tongue up and down the wetness that was leaking from within her.”

I he
ard Leticia make her own sudden breathless little noise. It sounded like a stifled gasp. I glanced at her, but her face was expressionless, though her eyes were suddenly wide and glistening.

“
Claire threatened to tell my father everything if I didn’t please her. She made me swear I would do anything she wanted – and then she came. Hard,” I went on. “Her hips bucked and then she was writhing on the bed and moaning. She forced my mouth tight against her pussy. When she finally let go of my hair, I slumped back and stared up at her. She had her eyes closed and a dreamy smile on her lips. She was gently rubbing her nipples. I had the juice of her all across my chin. I went to wipe it off, but she sat up suddenly on the edge of the bed, her legs still splayed wide apart, and then she cupped my face in her hands and leaned forward. I thought she was going to kiss me,” I shrugged. “She didn’t. She licked her own juice off my chin and lips, and made satisfied little mewling sounds like a kitten.”

I saw
Leticia move on the seat, shifting her weight and re-crossing her legs. Then she reached down into her handbag and retrieved a new notebook.

“Do you want a light on?” I asked.

“No,” she said quickly.

I hesitated. “Surely you can’t see what you’re writing in this gloom.”

“I’m okay,” she insisted. As she leaned forward, her hair rippled and swayed with the movement of her body. With the back of her hand she brushed it away from her eyes, then looked up at me, smiling. There was a sense of distance about her now – as if her attention was drifting, her focus wavering.

“Are you tired?” I asked. “We’ve been talking for quite a while.”

Leticia glanced down at her wristwatch suddenly, and gasped with shock. “Oh, hell,” she said. “Is that really the time?”

I nodded. “Maybe we should finish for
today? We can always continue another time.”

“No!” she said again, this time more urgently, and then softened her tone. “Not quite yet, please. I just need to hear the end of what happened. I… I hate having my notes and records fragmented and disorganized.”

I didn’t say anything. I shrugged. Time made no difference to me. I had no meetings for the next week.

I sighed. “Where were we?”

“Claire’s bedroom,” Leticia reminded me. “She had just orgasmed.”