Protection (19 page)

They better pray he did, because if Amanda had to deal with them on her own, she didn't fancy their chances. The little housekeeper was far too protective of the house to be polite to people she saw as ‘vultures' and one wrong word would see them straight out the door. Appointment or no appointment.

Fortunately, the driveway was still clear by the time Brick finally pulled in, but if all was calm outside, inside was a flurry of activity.

Duster in hand, Amanda was polishing for England. Her desire to eradicate even the smallest speck of dust so complete that she didn't even hear Carrie come in and it was only when Carrie grabbed her by the arm and marched her firmly into the kitchen that she paused long enough to voice her anguish at the house not being ready.

“Of course it's ready!”Carrie shot back, turning her back to fill the kettle. “You were dusting when I left and you were still at it when I got back! The house looks perfect Amanda, so will you please stop before you wear yourself out.”

But Amanda wasn't listening and when Carrie turned back to ask if she'd like a biscuit it was to find her wiping vigorously at the surface of the table.

“Give.. me.. that!”Carrie cried, making a grab for the duster and flinging it onto the draining board. “For heaven's sake, Amanda, stop it! The house is spotless! If that lot find even the smallest speck of dust it'll only be because they've dragged it in with them. Now, calm down for five minutes and have a cup of tea.”

“I can't!”Amanda cried, eyeing the table's surface for marks. “There's still so much to do.”

“No, there isn't and besides the magazine is going to be too busy trying to get a picture of me and Andrea together to worry about the state of my house. Not that I don't appreciate your efforts, because I do. You've done a fantastic job and the house looks great. Now, sit. Drink tea, eat biscuits and when they arrive, go and hide with Andrea. The two of you can sit and watch me squirm together.”

And squirm she did.

Hazel Copeland arrived promptly at three o'clock, dressed entirely in lilac and accompanied by a photographer who barely nodded in her direction before covering his face with his camera and proceeding to snap away.

Once inside, Hazel then became efficiency personified and barking instructions at the photographer, shook Carrie's hand, before staring pointedly over Carrie's shoulder as if expecting to see someone.

“Lost something?”Carrie asked, knowing full well who Hazel was looking for, but Hazel merely regarded her with a supercilious smile and raising an eyebrow, wordlessly tried to force Carrie into offering the information they both knew she possessed.

“Your.. er.. other half not about?”She asked eventually when it became clear Carrie wasn't about to spill.

Carrie crossed her arms. “If you mean Andrea, then, no, I'm afraid she not. She's working.”

“Oh dear, that's a shame.”Hazel oozed, continuing to stare about her as if she expected Andrea's work place to be beneath the furniture. “I was so looking forward to meeting her. Never mind. Perhaps we'll meet later. Shall we get started?”

“Your photographer already has.”Carrie replied cooly and leading them both into the lounge watched as the photographer snapped a close up of a vase.

“Ron doesn't like to hang about.”Hazel said by way of explaination. “Some of his best shots have been taken spontaneously. Now.. where shall we have you standing? How about over by the fireplace?”

“We need more coffee.”Andrea announced, turning away from the monitors and picking up the pot. “They've only been here ten minutes, but they're already doing my head in.”

“So I've noticed.”Amanda said. “You practically chain drank your way through that little lot. But if anyone's going, it's me. You step out of here and they'll pounce on you like a load of hungry hyenas.”

Andrea pulled a face. “What a lovely analogy. But we know where they are and I really need to use the bathroom. Not something you can really do for me.”

Amanda sighed. “Alright, but be quick and if they do catch you don't blame me if you appear on the cover of ‘Hello' magazine looking like a startled rabbit.”

Smiling into the camera Carrie struggled to control her poisonous thoughts. It wasn't easy. Hazel Copeland was getting on her bloody wick and if she mentioned Andrea's absence one more time, she'd was going to belt her one and then ram smug Ron's camera right where the sun didn't shine!

How many more pictures did he need for Heaven's sake? And what was wrong with the way she'd had her chairs? It was nothing short of personal invasion the way they were shifting her stuff about and if they didn't finish soon she was going to loose her bloody temper!

“A couple more in Carrie's beautiful entrance hall I think Ron.”Hazel gushed. “Then perhaps one or two in the kitchen? That suit you Carrie?”

Seeing the pair of you devoured by hungry wolves would suit me, Carrie thought and smiling fixedly, followed them into the hallway.

“So...”Hazel tried yet again. “Andrea not due back any time soon then?”

Carrie gritted her teeth. “Nooo.”She said. “Like I told you, it's a busy day for her and she won't be back ‘till late. But I'll tell her you were here. She'll be so disappointed she missed the chance to appear in your magazine.”

The sarcasm flew straight over Hazel's head, but it didn't miss Ron's and sourly regarding Carrie through the lens of his camera he wished it had the capability to spit bullets.

Carrie Shilling and her bloody movie ‘ Avenging Angels' had ruined his life.

Until then, Tanya, his girlfriend had been perfect. Meek, obedient and always willing to spread her legs whenever he wanted. But then Carrie had exploded onto the scene, with her brilliant, white wings and her bloody great gleaming sword and everything had changed. Suddenly Tanya's head had been full of feminist crap and she had actually ordered him to tidy up, before refusing to sleep with him unless she wanted to. She'd even had the nerve to drag him out of pub when she thought he'd had enough and three days later she'd left him. Her ‘ Dear John' written on a flyer for the movie.

“... next time? It would be so nice to have a few shots of you together. It's always the gay men that get all the best press isn't it? Doesn't seem fair.”

Carrie inhaled sharply, unconvinced by Hazel's solidarity speech. Didn't she know she could see right through her? There was absolutely no way this horrible woman and her Neanderthal photographer were ever going to step inside this house again.

But Carrie's growing irritation pleased Ron. He knew how bloody annoying Hazel could be when she was in full ‘ wheedle mode' and how she could keep on and on, determined to get at the juicy nugget of gossip she had convinced herself was there, and seeing as how Carrie was getting the full Copeland treatment, she was either going to give in and grant them an exclusive, or create a scene just to get rid of them. Either way it would make a juicy article.

He just wished she'd get on with it, because as nice as it would be to get one over on Carrie, he'd been looking forward to finishing early and getting down the pub.

“Look, I've told you before.”Carrie sighed wearily. “Andrea is not here and I do not know when she will be back. Now, please, just take your photos, ask your questions and leave. I'm sure you're both very busy people.”

She's cracking, Ron grinned and brought the camera up to his face.

“But, surely you can see, Carrie, how beneficial a photo session with Andrea would be?”Hazel persisted. “Our readers might pretend they're people of the world and that homosexuality and lesbianism are just ordinary facets of life, but in reality, they're fascinated! And they want proof, pictorial proof that you're part of a real couple and not just some weirdo who indulges in strange sexual fantasies with women. All of which could be so easily proved by just a couple of photos. Now, tell me, where's the harm in that?”

Gobsmacked, Carrie just stared at her.

Ron took pictures of her incredulity.

“So, what you're saying.”Carrie said at last. “What you're actually saying is, that if I don't agree to have my picture taken with Andrea , you're going to start spreading malicious rumours about me.”

Hazel had the gall to look shocked. “Good grief! No!”She cried. “That's not what I meant at all! All I'm saying is - should such nasty tales start doing the rounds, we, at the magazine, would have the wherewithal to quash them immediately and save you and your partner from a lot of un-necessary heartache.”

That was enough for Carrie and unable to control her temper any longer she pushed Hazel towards the door. “How dare you try to blackmail me!”She spat, looking for all the world like the avenging Angel she portrayed on film. “How dare you! Get out of my house! Right now! Who the hell do you people think you are?”

Delighted, Ron snapped away, chuffed to pieces that he was finally getting the pictures he wanted and not at all prepared for Carrie's hand to suddenly shoot up and cover his lens.

“And you!”She yelled. “Stop taking bloody pictures! I shall be talking to my lawyer about this. Now get out, the pair of you, before I have you thrown out.”

Still snapping away, Ron backed up. Totally unaware of what was behind him and, in truth, not much caring, until his back abruptly slammed against hard furniture and he felt something shudder against him before crashing to the ground.

Standing in front of him, Carrie had never been in any immediate danger, the shattered remains of the china vase all behind Ron, but the crash had been loud enough for Andrea to hear and racing out of the kitchen to see what the hell had happened, she found herself face to face with a waiting camera lens.

The magazine ran the article two days later, despite the threat of law suits from Carrie's representatives, and although the glamour shots of ‘Carrie at home' were arranged in the magazines usual style, pride of place still went to the pictures of an anxiously advancing Andrea. Neatly accompanied by a smugly sarcastic caption.

Carrie's lawyers prepared to sue.

Whilst Isobel, spreading open a copy of the magazine, carefully cut out sections of the photographs into hundreds of tiny, little pieces.

The phone woke Isobel and grabbing the receiver with one hand, she croaked a greeting, suppressing a groan when her boss's voice sounded on the other end.

Was she well enough to go into work today? He wanted to know. Because several others had also called in sick, and he was desperate for cover.

Keeping her voice deliberately cracked, which wasn't difficult seeing as how it was only seven thirty in the morning, Isobel explained that she'd like to help, but she was still covered in the itchy rash and seeing as how she had to stop and slap Calamine lotion on every five minutes, she didn't think pounding the streets would be very practical.

Forced to agree with her, her boss nevertheless wished her a speedy recovery and hung up, leaving Isobel to snuggle back under the covers and contemplate what she was really going to be doing that day.

A crash course in waitressing from Rita. But even that wasn't for a couple of hours and reaching over the side of her bed, she picked up her scrapbook and levered herself into a sitting position.

Most of her pictures were now stuck to the thick paper, and nice as they were, none of them showed her naked or writhing in ecstasy as she'd been at the gym. Her hair all sweaty, her legs apart, her tits covered by another's mouth.

It was enough to turn her on just thinking about it and tossing the scrapbook aside, Isobel slid her hand under the duvet and finding the warm nest of her fluff eased a finger smoothly between her pussy lips, feeling warm pulses of desire instantly tingle through her groin as biting her lip, she began to rub herself. Massaging the hardened nub of her swollen clit until the juices gathered and flowed and her other hand pulled at her nipples. Creating little electric shocks of pain as she rubbed and rubbed at her clit and kept her mounting orgasm at bay with the pain she was inflicting on her breasts.

Breathing hard, she slid her finger inside herself and gushed again, her pussy filling with liquid as she began to pump. Her muscles welcoming the intrusion as her mind filled with images of her. Her head buried between her thighs. Her hair brushing her stomach. Her hot tongue, lapping and sucking.

Near to coming, Isobel withdrew her finger and returning to her clit, rubbed and stroked. Groaning louder and louder as the pleasure built and built and she suddenly rattled over the edge. Wanting her. Needing her. Determined that nothing would stand in the way of having her.

Why did these mornings have to be so cold?

Shrugging on her overcoat, Andrea delved into the voluminous pockets and pulled out her gloves, shivering when the cold lining brushed against her fingers and frustrated when her fingers didn't thaw out after a few minutes.

Why couldn't she get warm? She didn't understand it. She didn't feel as if she was coming down with anything and her gloves had always helped before, but even numerous cups of coffee hadn't warmed her, despite drinking them hot enough to burn her tongue, and now she was preparing to face the biting wind again, just so she could chat with Brian Holding, the man responsible for tomorrow's additional security.

Why they had to meet outside was anyone's guess, although Brian had mentioned something about a walk-round assessment to determine possible security weak spots, so maybe that was it, though she doubted if he'd find anything. Carrie had the house and grounds totally covered as far as she could tell and walking round it was probably just going to be a waste of time. But, seeing as how she'd been the one to insist on additional security in the first place, she supposed she couldn't complain now.

Pulling up the collar of her coat, Andrea let herself out of the back door and shivered again as she started up the driveway.