Our Little Secret (31 page)

It’s horny, yes, like I’ve been with Edward, but it’s so unexpected and so forbidden, it has an edge to it that is thrillingly new. I know I should stop and pull away, but somehow I can’t seem to. It’s like being kissed for the very first time – ever. Well, it is for me, by a woman. The knowledge of this throbs through me. Is this how women kiss? Wow!

Finally, she pulls away and smiles, like she’s delighted. I see the tiny gap between her teeth that I adore. I’m shaking uncontrollably and she trails her fingertip down my stomach.

‘You’re such a sensual little thing, aren’t you?’ she whispers.

I feel molten hot as her hand reaches my jeans and she squeezes me. ‘I saw you on the bed. You got very hot and sticky, didn’t you?’ she says, a slight tease in her voice.

I reach out and touch her face, then her hair. She stares intently down at me as I feel her hand over my jeans, her fingers pressing into me through the fabric.

‘Maybe we should finish that off?’ she whispers. ‘What do you say?’

No, is what I should say. No, because I’m not bisexual and I’m in love with her husband – and I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual. But Edward and me: that relationship, right now, feels like it belongs to another land and time. And God, yes, I’m curious. Curious as hell. Because I want to know what it feels like to be with a woman. All those feelings I had on the shoot, when Carmena was on me, come rushing back. Only this time with the knowledge that Marnie and I are alone, and this might be my only chance ever to answer her question. Edward has nothing to do with this – with me and Marnie. This is about women, I tell myself. How will I ever know how it really feels to be a woman if I’ve never felt one – experienced one for myself.

I take the plunge. I can’t find any words. Instead I slide my hand under her top, lifting up her vest. I want to feel her flesh.

She makes a low, guttural sigh that makes my insides flip. Like she’s been waiting forever for me to touch her.

She pulls away quickly and takes off her top, her hand leaving me.

This loss of contact sends a shockwave of reality. What am I doing? What are we doing?

But it’s all moving too fast and I don’t want it to stop. It can’t stop now.

She doesn’t say anything as she takes off her thin bra and then, apart from her jean shorts, she’s naked.

Her breasts, now that I’ve finally seen all of them, are larger than I expected and her nipples are puckered and already erect. I’ve seen them, partially of course, when we were in her room, and I’ve seen them in the portrait, but now they are here in front of me, it feels more intimate than anything I’ve ever witnessed. I reach out and cup one of her breasts. I can’t believe this is happening, I can’t believe I’m touching her, but I can’t help myself. I draw her towards me and kiss her lips, my shaking hand exploring the shape of her, feeling the weight of her breast. She is so soft. So womanly. So wonderful.

Then I stop kissing her and, feeling brave, lean down and flick my tongue against her nipple. She moans. And in that noise, all the power shifts. She wants me and I want her. And suddenly I need to explore as much of her as I possibly can. And I won’t stop until she’s taught me everything she knows.

70

We are silent as Trewin drives us through the dark night back to the house. Marnie doesn’t look at me, but sits next to me, her hand over mine.

I can still taste her. I feel shaken and ashamed and thrilled at the knowledge of what we’ve done. I know she’s feeling the same. I feel the silence fizzing with the knowledge of what we just did.

Does she feel undone by the passion we shared, too?

Because it was passionate. All of it, but especially once we were naked together. I can’t stop remembering how it felt to lie together, how it felt to be engulfed in her softness. How it felt more sensual than anything sexual I’ve ever experienced with a man, but it was open, too. Because we talked and laughed as we explored one another and it felt so private, being there on the bed with her, just me and her and the toys.

Oh my God. The toys.

And it was
me
. I instigated it. I told her to show me everything, teach me everything. I told her to explain and demonstrate her work, and oh, how she loved it. How she loved exploring me, showing me, leading me forward to feel more, think more about my body. How she called a sexual honesty from me that no one ever has.

I can’t breathe as I think of myself splayed handcuffed and naked, and how we slid together in the oily lubricant she rubbed over me, and how she slid that large black dildo into me and licked me.

I still feel the rocking aftermath of my orgasms that came time and again.

‘Don’t look like that,’ she whispers when we arrive at the house and stand on the steps.

‘Like what?’ I ask her.

She turns to me and strokes my face. ‘Don’t be scared. There’s nothing to be scared of. You explored your body, your sensuality, fully for the first time. It’s a wonderful thing. Some people go through life never finding out. Never exploring their sexual self. But you have been brave enough to begin that journey. It’s a wonderful thing, my darling. The sharing of the start of your journey.’

I nod, feeling oddly close to tears. I’m so grateful to her for making it OK, and I hug her close.

‘Thank you,’ I whisper. ‘Thank you for everything.’

‘Let’s not talk about it, or analyse it. It was too special for that. It’s just ours.’

71

I sleep like a baby. When I wake up, I don’t even remember straight away. And then I do. And it’s like I’ve been shot.

I sit bolt upright in bed.

Marnie and me. We had sex. Forbidden, amazing, illicit, thrilling sex.

Fuuuuck!

If I thought I’d got myself into a scrape after having sex with Edward, it’s nothing to what I feel now.

Edward. My Edward. What have I done? How could I betray him so soon?

I get dressed quickly and get downstairs as fast as I can. I can’t bear to be alone with my thoughts. I’m shaking so much, I just need to see people and be normal. Because if I see people, speak to people, then hopefully I will regain my balance, because I feel like I’m teetering on the top of a very tall building.

I’m unprepared for the scene that greets me. I’d totally forgotten about the party, but the rest of the world hasn’t. The whole ground floor is swarming with people, and I see catering vans on the drive through the open door. A huge dining table is being set up in the gallery.

Marnie is in full operations mode, barking orders to everyone. When she sees me, she immediately dumps a load of heavy tablecloths in my arms.

‘It’s all hands on deck, today, Miss Henshaw,’ she says. She doesn’t mention yesterday, but she doesn’t look at me, either. How has she got the energy for a party? The woman is superhuman.

The hours whizz by, and I help Marnie dress the table and watch her make decisions about the food, and some of the time I completely forget about yesterday. And then, suddenly, I remember and I feel hot and dizzy. Is she thinking about it, too? It’s impossible to tell. She doesn’t look at me directly once all day.

I’m feeling jumpy, too, as I’m expecting Edward to walk in at any second.

Edward.

Oh God. Edward.

I keep thinking about the yacht, but the whole experience has been warped and changed after what happened with Marnie yesterday. I know it’s crazy, but I feel like I’ve been unfaithful to him and that he’ll know the minute he sees me.

But then, at the same time, I know that what Marnie and I shared has nothing to do with Edward. It was just about her and me. I feel about Marnie and me like I feel about me and him.

God, it’s all so confusing, but I know that until I see him and find out how he’s feeling, I won’t be able to think straight.

Around four o’clock Marnie announces that the house is ready. ‘I’m going to change,’ she says. ‘Oh, where has Ed got to?’

I go to my room and take a long shower.

When there’s a knock on my door, I’m so skittish I almost kill myself slipping out of the shower. I’m convinced it’ll be Marnie, but it’s Edward.

He’s standing by my door, looking absolutely stunningly perfect in a dress suit. His white shirt has gold studs up the front, but he’s not wearing a tie. He looks like he’s just stepped out of a James Bond movie.

‘Hi,’ I squeak, trying to tame the pile of towelling on my head.

His face lights up and, all of a sudden, my insides melt.

‘Marnie sent this for you to wear,’ he tells me, revealing that he has a hanger hooked on his forefinger. ‘I’m in the doghouse because I’m late.’

‘Thank you,’ I tell him, taking the carrier case from him, my towel slipping off my hair. I feel like a total mess, but his hand brushes mine and then he stares at me and it’s those eyes – those amazing eyes of his. My pulse starts to race.

‘I missed you,’ he whispers. ‘How have you been?’

‘Fine,’ I tell him. But I haven’t been fine. I’ve been something entirely other than fine. I’ve been somewhere so far away on the outer reaches of my comfort zone that seeing him now, hearing that he has missed me, pulls me back as if I’ve been on a bungee jump.

All the craziness of yesterday – the shoot, everything that happened with Marnie – suddenly feels like a distant dream. Like it happened to someone else. It’s such a relief that I am still the me that I was with Edward on the yacht. It feels like I’ve just landed in a safety blanket. In his gaze, I’m safe.

I smile stupidly at him.

And suddenly I don’t care about Marnie, or the party, or the risk I’m taking. I just pull him roughly into my room and, dropping the carrier, press myself up against him. Then, holding his face, I kiss him deeply. Claiming him once again, just for me. It’s so wonderful I feel giddy.

He is a man. My man. And I need him right now.

‘There’s no time,’ he murmurs through his kisses, but he’s already pulling off my robe and I’m untucking his dress shirt.

He pushes me back against the door, wrapping my legs around his waist. We press our heads together and laugh with relief and delight. He kisses me deeply and hungrily.

Then he’s undressing, his trousers falling away and, in a second, he’s fucking me hard against the door, his hands clasping my buttocks. I claw at his hair as he thrusts, filling me with pleasure.

And it feels like he’s claimed me again, and everything that was so scary and new that happened with Marnie last night is at last erased. From this moment I can put it behind me and lock it away. I will never mention it. Never think about it ever again.

Afterwards, he lowers me to the floor and gently laughs as he kisses me, but as he pulls away from me, I can tell he’s stressed about the time. He goes into my bathroom and I watch as he washes his face and fixes his hair and quickly re-dresses.

I stand naked in the doorway, watching him. He catches my reflection in the mirror.

‘Tomorrow I’ll take you to the Hamptons and we’ll be together. I promise. Just us. I’ll come and get you early,’ he says. ‘OK.’

He draws me to him I press my head against his shoulder, feeling the tender heartbreak that in a moment our embrace will be over. I breathe him in. That smell I love.

72

Edward hardly looks at me later as I come down and mingle with the guests who’ve arrived on the terrace. It’s a warm evening and the lawns are dappled in the soft evening light. It’s like a perfect party of the most perfect people you’ve ever seen. I feel like I’ve stepped onto a film set.

I like the dress Marnie has given me. It’s a demure cocktail dress with yellow roses on it. I feel very 1960s retro in it, and I’ve tied up my hair to match. I feel as if there’s a neon sign above my head, though. Can’t everyone tell that Edward and I are lovers? Isn’t it so
obvious
? It feels so obvious to me.

Gundred and Laura are serving canapés, and I feel awkward. I feel out of place. I’m staff, I should be helping, too. I’m not sure what my role is, or what I’m supposed to do. I’m being treated like a guest, but I don’t feel like one of these sophisticated people, who all seem to know each other. I wander through them, hearing snatches of conversation. ‘He’s got Nicole for the shoot. She wasn’t his first choice, but I think it’s a great casting.’ ‘Did he get the Picasso? I knew he would.’ ‘And then Anthony insisted, and we got the whole of the frescos reinstated, but planning in Venice is a nightmare.’

I hear Mamie’s familiar laughter on the other side of the terrace and I look up and catch her eye. She looks stunning in a strapless black sheath of a dress. Her blonde hair is greased back, which only accentuates her incredible bone structure even more. She’s wearing some stunning sapphire-and-diamond dangly earrings that almost graze her shoulders.

She looks me over and I can tell that she approves of what I’m wearing. She flicks her eyes at me, and I assume she has some kind of errand for me inside. I follow her, going into the house through the French doors where Edward and I danced that night.

‘You look divine,’ she says. She reaches out and strokes my cheek. ‘Positively edible.’

I flush at her reference. Her reference to us.

‘Thank you for the dress. I love it,’ I manage, pretending to ignore her remark.

‘Keep it,’ she says.

She doesn’t look around, but simply stares at me, then, taking me quite by surprise, she leans down and kisses me.

‘I can’t stop thinking about you,’ she breathes, kissing me again more fully.

Despite everything that has happened, and all my resolve about Edward, I feel a deep sexual tug inside me, along with a rising sense of panic. I might try and forget what happened between us, but she’s not going to let me.

I pull away, terrified that she’s being so brazen. What if someone saw us? What if Edward saw us?

I thought last night was a one-off thing, but then I look at her and I remember who she is. An adrenaline junkie. I see the risk she’s just taken blaze triumphantly in her eyes. She can see I’m shaking.

All at once I remember her taste in my mouth. I remember being naked in her arms, her sex against mine . . .

She raises her eyebrows at me, like there’s been a dare and she’s won.