Musical Beds (8 page)

Milan was terribly late for the next day’s rehearsal, Leonard taking over with much fussing and fretting for a scrappy and unsatisfying run-through of The Planets.

When Milan arrived, he swaggered unrepentantly into the room, pausing to shoot a dazzling smile and a wink at Sarah the harpist before gliding up to the podium. He was deathly pale with pink-rimmed eyes, but he put up a good façade of exuberance, and the rehearsal perked up to near-competent levels.

Back at Vanessa’s flat, the percussionist tried to open the subject of Milan, but Lydia had no desire to rehash it all yet again and begged to be allowed to slump mindlessly in front of a DVD with a bucket of ice cream instead.

Lydia enjoyed the Bridget Jones marathon, but couldn’t help noticing how very often Vanessa’s phone bleeped to indicate an incoming text message. Her friend also seemed to be doing a lot of sly smiling and punching of keys.

“Who’s that? Secret lover?” she asked.

“No. Just Ben. Wondering if we want to go for a picnic in Richmond Park tomorrow. Do you fancy it? Supposed to be nice weather.”

“Just Ben, eh?”

A telling silence ensued.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Lydia?”

“Why do you think? You’re blushing!” Lydia reached out and gave Vanessa’s cheek a playful pinch.

“It’s just a bit hot in here, that’s all.”

“The ice cream should cool you down. Ness, are you and Ben…?”

Vanessa sighed, looked away for a moment then turned her guilt-etched face back to Lydia.

“Do you think it’s wrong?”

“What? Why would I think that?”

“Oh, you know. He’s so young and I’m…not.”

“Ness! Don’t say that! You’re gorgeous. So have you…?”

Vanessa nodded shyly and Lydia squealed.

“That’s amazing! Oh, wow. I’m so happy for you. He seems really lovely.”

“Yes, he does, doesn’t he? I’m hoping I’m not deluding myself.”

“No. He’s not the type. He’s not a Jack-the-lad after a quick shag, is he? Oh, I really like him. This is brilliant.”

Vanessa gave Lydia’s hand a quick squeeze.

“Thank you,” she said.

“What for?”

“I was scared to tell you in case you thought I was some kind of sick pervert.” Vanessa laughed miserably.

“Oh, for God’s sake. You’re talking to the girl who was involved in a ménage and performed at a private sex party, remember.” The words sounded surprising to Lydia, even though she knew them to be true, and she put a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, yes. I’d forgotten about the sex party.”

“Did Milan ever take you to anything like that?”

“Not that setup in Vienna you went to, no. There was an incident in New York, though.”

Lydia leant forward.

“Really?”

“You want gory details, don’t you?” Vanessa sounded worried that Lydia might be looking for salt to rub into her relationship wounds, but Lydia was genuinely curious.

“Of course.”

Vanessa flicked a blob of ice cream from the end of her spoon onto Lydia’s nose.

“You really are a sick pervert. Well, we’d just played Carnegie Hall, and we were all supposed to be going to a restaurant afterwards, but Milan got a call from some guy he knew. Next thing I knew, he and I were in a cab heading for the Meatpacking District. We went into this club—we were on the guest list, I think. I don’t know what I was expecting. Some kind of edgy techno-house music type thing in a warehouse full of graffiti. Excuse me, I’m not very good with the terminology. I haven’t been out clubbing since 1993.”

“I can tell,” snorted Lydia, though she wasn’t exactly conversant with the latest trends in dance music, either. A Strauss waltz was more her bag. “So, go on. It wasn’t a dance club, I take it?”

“No, it wasn’t. It was a fetish club.”

“Ooh, seriously? He never took me to anything like that. Was he hiding a side of himself from me?” Lydia wondered, though Milan had never been one to hold back, so she guessed the opportunity had simply not arisen.

“I doubt it. Milan is interested in everything to do with sex, I think. He likes to dabble and he’s extremely open to new experiences, as I guess you worked out.”

“Yeah. What was this place like then?”

“I would call it…interesting. I’m not really that way inclined, but parts of it got me quite, y’know… Other parts of it just made me want to run and hide. There were people dressed head to toe in suffocating latex and leather and stuff—gimp masks. I always find them frightening, don’t know why. Maybe because they remind me a bit of gas masks, which are scary objects in themselves.”

“Ugh,” Lydia shuddered. “Hate them. And air-raid siren noises.”

“And there were people in cages—one woman was cuffed into this cage thing that had a little space for her head, so guys could just go up to her and put their dicks in her mouth. She had this contraption between her lips that held them open.”

“Milan didn’t…?”

“No. He did join in with a whipping, though. A cute girl in a corset and stockings, getting her bum flogged by all and sundry. Actually, I might have given her a couple of strokes.”

“Did you? Did it…do anything for you?”

“It made me feel a bit squirmy, I think. In an ‘I wonder what she’s feeling?’ kind of way. More curious than anything. Milan said it wasn’t the pain she was getting off on as much as the humiliation. I can’t really relate to that, but I might have asked him to give me a little spank or two, just to see what it felt like…”

Lydia giggled. “And what
did
it feel like?”

“Quite nice, actually. He didn’t do it very hard, of course. I’m a coward when it comes to pain. I got my own back and did it to him. He seemed to enjoy it.”

“Really? Milan?”

“He’s a sensation junkie. If it feels good, he’ll do it.”

“That’s true.”

They sat in silent contemplation for a moment, Lydia replaying all the wild and wonderful things she’d done with Milan before she dismissed the thoughts with firm determination and picked up the thread.

“And what about Ben? Do you think he wants a good spanking?”

Vanessa grinned into her ice cream.

“We haven’t got as far as S&M yet, strangely enough. If we do, I’ll let you know, okay?”

* * * *

Ben was waiting for them at the railway station the next day, holding a large hamper in front of him with both hands.

They walked up through a pastoral idyll to the strangely named Leg of Mutton Pond, where they arranged themselves on tartan blankets and unpacked the goodies. Vanessa was ridiculously excited about having her friend and her lover together in a social situation, and she was full of rapturous exclamations about the beauty of the weather and the surroundings.

“Where do you live, Ben?” asked Lydia as he unwrapped chicken drumsticks from some tinfoil.

“Me? Oh, Wimbledon.”

“Quite handy for Vanessa’s place then.”

He looked up keenly, then his gaze switched rapidly from Lydia to Vanessa and back again.

“I don’t know…is it?”

Vanessa’s heart melted at his obvious conflict—he wanted to admit their relationship, but he didn’t know if she would approve. She saved him the angst.

“Ben, I hope you don’t mind, but I told Lydia. Or, rather, she guessed. What with the somewhat alarming number of text messages I was sending and receiving last night.”

Ben looked stunned for a moment, then his face lit up.

“So we’re Official, then?” he asked.

“Semi-Official. Lydia’s the only person I’ve told. I don’t know about you…”

“Not a soul. Thought you wanted it kept under wraps.”

“Well, you know what the orchestra’s like. Gossip Central. Lydia knows all about that.”

“I do indeed.” Lydia smiled. “I think you make a great couple. I give you my blessing.” She grabbed a bottle of prosecco from the hamper and brandished it in a mock-toast to Vanessa and Ben.

A couple of fallow deer wandered past behind the lovers, as if curious to know what the big deal was over by the pond.

“A blessing! Did you hear that, Va—I mean, Ness? We are blessed.”

“It makes a change from being cursed,” said Vanessa dryly.

Ben hurried over to her on his knees and sat beside her, wrapping her in one of his long arms.

“Look, I can touch you in daylight and we don’t shrivel up. Isn’t it amazing?”

“Very,” laughed Vanessa, rubbing her nose against his, pressing their foreheads together.

Lydia popped the cork on the bottle and poured the sparkling wine into three glasses.

Almost at once, her phone rang.

“Sorry,” she said, standing and going to lurk a short distance away, under a tree, while she took the call.

“Wonder who that could be,” said Vanessa, with heavy irony.

“You think it’s Milan?”

“Five quid says she scuttles off to answer the summons.”

“Oh, no. You think he’s got her on a string?”

“She’s doing her best, but he’s a bugger to shake off. He hates it when people leave him rather than the other way around. Just can’t let it go. An ego thing, I suppose. These artistes…” She sighed.

“Poor Lydia. Still, if she does rush off…” He tickled her under her armpit and breathed hot air into her ear.

Squealing, she tried to fend him off.

“Don’t you go getting any ideas, Mr Chancellor.”

“But I like ideas. Ideas make the world go round.”

“Thought that was love?”

“Yes, and what about ideas plus love? What a combination.” He spread his arms wide, as if he’d come up with a unique invention he had to broadcast to the world.

“Ben…” Vanessa laughed, despite her misgivings.

“Ness…”

“My joints aren’t what they were, you know.”

Ben burst out laughing. “You sound like my gran. What rubbish! You’re as lithe and flexible as a much younger woman—more so, judging by some of the things I’ve seen you do in bed.”

“Shhh.” But Vanessa was beaming, her cheeks hot with pleasure.

Lydia ended the call and paced over. From the apologetic look on her face, Vanessa gauged that she hadn’t been far from the truth in her surmise.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve got to head into town for a little while. If I can make it back here before you pack up, I will. Otherwise, I’ll call you and catch up with you later.”

Vanessa pursed her lips. “Might one enquire for whose sake you are abandoning us?”

“I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t urgent…sorry.”

“Five letters, Italian city famed for leather goods, M-something-L-something-N,” said Ben laconically.

Lydia shook her head and waved perfunctorily before turning and heading back to the gate through which they’d entered the park.

“I think a nail was hit on the head,” remarked Vanessa, watching her friend disappear. “Damn him.”

“Well, it can’t be helped,” said Ben, picking up a chicken drumstick with an air of practicality and biting into it. “Dig in, come on. The sooner we finish the feast, the sooner we can start…the other feast.”

“You really think I’m up for some al fresco fun, don’t you?”

Vanessa sipped at her prosecco. The bubbles were already going to her head.

“Of course. What could be nicer than the fresh air on your naked skin?”

“Or ants in your pants?”

“Warm sunshine bathing your body.”

“Nettle stings on your arse.”

“The sensual mingling of nature and man—and woman—in erotic harmony.”

Vanessa burst out laughing.

“Wasps where no wasp should ever go.”

“Ah, come on, it’s too early for wasps.”

“Bees, then.”

“Try not to look too much like a flower and the bees will leave you alone.”

Vanessa picked up a strawberry and bit into it, sinking her teeth provocatively into its soft, pink flesh.

“Tell you what. If you can find a spot that’s totally and utterly invisible to all passers-by, even the deer, I might consider it.”

“Yeah?” Ben clapped his hands. “That dress you’re wearing—it’s nice, but all I can think about is lifting it up and getting underneath.”

“All right, well, let’s eat first. Get our strength up.”

They fell upon the cold chicken and the slices of quiche, the hard-boiled eggs and the jam tarts with a will, finishing up the prosecco between them before it had a chance to go flat.

Then they packed the hamper and shoved it under a nearby hedge for safe keeping, before Ben took Vanessa’s hand and began stalking with her through the park, hell-bent on finding a place where privacy could be maintained.

Despite the park’s size and range, unpeopled areas were surprisingly hard to locate, and the pair wandered for some time until they found a woodland thicket, some way off the main path. Vanessa had almost reconciled herself to failure, with a sense of some relief, but now her heart began to hammer double-time again.

The foliage was dense enough to make them invisible to passers-by yet, once in the thick of it, it was dry underfoot and the trees allowed enough dappled light in to carpet the floor with patterns of shadow and brightness.

“I still don’t know,” said Vanessa, wrinkling her nose. “Is it clean? I’m worried about getting wood bark everywhere.”

“Forget your obsession with cleanliness, just this once,” said Ben, wrapping his arms around her from behind and putting his lips to her neck. “Clothes can be washed. So can skin.”

“It smells a bit damp.”

“It doesn’t. Feel this tree trunk. Dry. It hasn’t rained in over a week.”

“What about, you know, sap, or whatever it’s called? It could stain.”

“There’s one thing I know about sap, and that’s that it rises. Like mine is doing right now.” He nipped the back of her neck, ostensibly playful, but with serious intent behind the gesture.

“Ben!”

“Come on,” he growled in her ear. “I want to rumple you. You’re always so immaculate. I want to see leaves in your hair and grass stains on your skirt.”

He sat down on a tree stump, pulling Vanessa onto his lap, and started devouring her lips, silencing her complaints about possible mess in the most effective way imaginable.

She relaxed into the kiss, enjoying the mingling of Ben’s scent with the ferny, loamy aroma around her. They were in a secret place, an enchanted wood of their own, remote from the world. There was no need to think about anything but each other.