Seven Scarlet Tales (8 page)

She let her body twist and turn against his, let him press closer and allowed his hand to wander up and down her leg, stroking the nylon along her inner thigh so that she tingled and trembled. She was as wet now as she had been after he spanked her. He must know that, if he wanted it, she wouldn’t object too strenuously.

She moved her lips near his and tried to brush them, inviting a kiss, but he turned his head away.

‘This is the place,’ he said to the cabbie.

The three of them tipped out of the car, and streamed up the steps to the lobby of a mid-range hotel, close to the St Pancras Eurostar terminus.

‘It is not a luxury place,’ Bruno muttered, shepherding them into the lift, which he had to summon by means of a secure key card.

‘Not exactly,’ Emma agreed, frowning at herself in the elevator mirror, under the glare of a striplight.

‘I’ve stayed in much worse,’ said Poppy reassuringly. ‘In Paris, funnily enough.’

‘Oh, really? Where did you stay?’

‘Near the Place de Clichy.’

Bruno laughed.

‘
C’est logique
,’ he said.

The lift arrived at his floor and they trooped along to his room, accessed once more by the key card.

‘Well, here we are,’ announced Emma, spreading her arms wide. ‘Where do you want me?’

He didn’t want her, Poppy thought, and he made it pretty obvious by the way he looked at her.

‘You can help yourself to a drink from the minibar,’ he said. ‘Perhaps take it into the bathroom.’

‘You want to get straight down to business, eh? Can’t blame you. She’s a pretty little peach, isn’t she?’

She tickled Poppy beneath the chin. Poppy squealed and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching the hostility between the other two take its course.

‘I would like some privacy,’ said Bruno, opening the minibar for Emma.

She took a bottle of mineral water and swigged from it before retiring to the ensuite.

‘Any funny business, Poppy, and you just need to shout, OK? I’m here for you. I’ll take you home afterwards.’

‘Thanks.’

Poppy watched the door shut behind her, then looked shyly up at Bruno.

‘So, do you want to?’

‘I told you, I don’t pay for sex,’ he said, his voice very low, almost a whisper. ‘Here.’

He sat down beside her and spoke into her ear.

‘I’m a policeman. I can’t pay you for sex.’

‘But,’ she whispered back, ‘do you want it?’

He looked astonished and he jerked back, reading her face intently.

‘What? Are you offering?’

‘Oh, I mean. It doesn’t matter. But I thought you might want to.’

‘Poppy, you don’t have to fuck any man who asks you, you know.’

‘I know. I know that.’ Tears rushed forwards, threatening to spill.

‘Do you?’

‘Yes. Just because I let men spank me doesn’t mean I give it up to anyone and everyone. Do you really think I would?’

‘No. Not now. But in a few years, you know, maybe that will change.’

‘I’m not planning to do this for years. Only until I get my degree and a good job.’

Bruno looked towards the bathroom door.

‘She thinks we are going to fuck. And if we just sit here, all quiet, she will think it is strange.’

‘So?’ Poppy was confused. Now it sounded as if Bruno was going to shag her just to keep Emma off the scent. Wasn’t that worse than doing it because they felt like it?

‘We will play the role, as we did earlier. Do you mind if I take off my clothes?’

He didn’t wait for Poppy’s answer but stood and began unbuttoning his shirt straight away. Poppy watched in stunned fascination as her strange new companion’s chest was revealed, buff and tanned above a classic six-pack abdomen.

‘Perhaps if you just take off your dress,’ he suggested. ‘I don’t ask for more.’

Poppy quickly wriggled out of it. Even though she wasn’t showing him anything he hadn’t already seen, she felt coy and embarrassed at letting him see her knickers.

‘OK.’ He had taken off his trousers and stood in just boxers, preening a little as if expecting her to gasp and faint. ‘Are you OK? Let’s get into bed.’ He raised his voice, for Emma’s benefit. ‘I want to fuck that sweet little pussy, baby.’

Poppy covered her mouth with her hands, but he winked and pulled her under the duvet with him.

‘I don’t mean it,’ he whispered. ‘We just hold each other, yes, and make some noise. Make the mattress, what do you say?’

‘Creak? Squeak?’ Poppy bounced her bottom and heard the springs groan rewardingly.

‘That’s it,’ he said, putting an arm around her. ‘Lie down.’

Poppy was reminded of earlier in the evening, when she had thought the spanking felt too much like role-play to be sexy. How was it, then, that this blatant role-playing felt horribly, dangerously erotic? Something inside her was wrongly wired, she theorised, a blue strand where a red should be, and vice versa.

Lying pressed against Bruno, breathing him in, feeling his strength and hardness, made her want to wrap herself tight around him and open up her legs. He smelled of older-man authority and responsibility and it intoxicated her. Screw the bad boys, what could be sexier than a good man who wanted to do right by you?

‘Hey,’ he whispered, rolling over a little so that he held her down underneath him. ‘You are playing this a bit too well, you know?’

His mouth was an inch from hers, his hair falling over his brow and tickling her. Their pelvises were in alignment. Only a double layer of cotton kept their genitals apart.

‘Kiss me,’ she begged, almost silently.

‘You want me to?’ He sounded amazed, and it turned her on even more.

She nodded. ‘I like you.’

‘I shouldn’t.’

‘Please.’

She raised her head a fraction, bringing their lips together. If he was reluctant, he didn’t show it. He gave in to her, so easily and sweetly, as if it could only happen this one way.

How right it seemed. They shared a connection Poppy wasn’t sure she’d experienced before. She gave herself up to him in rapt surrender, letting her body fall free. They rolled around all over the bed, rumpling the sheets, making the mattress sing. Emma was getting a good performance now.

He broke the kiss and she let out a laugh of delight.

‘You like to be kissed?’ he whispered, as if any answer were necessary.

‘Love it,’ she said out loud. ‘Love it, love it, love it.’

‘You need to talk for her.’ He inclined his head towards the bathroom door. ‘Some moans.’ He raised his voice again, holding her tight. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said.

‘Mmm,’ she contributed, squirming in order to get some consolidation from the mattress.

‘Say “Oh my God, it’s so big!”,’ he suggested, and Poppy giggled at his outrageous male vanity.

‘I’m not saying that!’

‘Oh, do, why not?’

She rolled her eyes, then put her hand on the bulge in his boxers.

‘Wow, this is nice,’ she said, sincerely and aloud.

‘Poppy!’ He tried to remove her hand, but lamely, not
putting his full strength into the gesture. ‘You are a bad girl, you know.’

‘I do know. That’s why you had to spank me, isn’t it?’

‘I can’t. Please don’t make me fuck you, Poppy. I can’t.’

She let go of him, stung and embarrassed.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, to, cross your personal boundaries.’

‘Shh, Poppy, you know, I would love to. I would love to fuck you all night. But I can’t. I really can’t. Listen to me. I’m going to give you my number. If you need me for anything, just call me. If anything happens at the club, will you tell me?’

‘What do you mean by “anything”?’

‘Anything at all. To you, to another girl, to a client.’

‘You want me to be your informant?’

‘I will pay, of course.’

‘You mean all of this was to get me to—’

‘No, no. I know these people, these club people. I know their associates, I know what they do. I worry for you, Poppy. I need to know you are OK. Will you keep my number? Will you call me if you want a friend?’

She nodded, sobered by the seriousness of his tone.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘I wish I could take you away from it, but …’ He shrugged. ‘It must be your decision.’

‘Right.’

She watched while he reached for his wallet and took from it a business card, which he slipped inside her bra. Then he took out a condom packet.

For a second, she thought he must have changed his mind. But he took the condom out of the wrapper and then threw it into the wastepaper basket, along with the foil.

‘For safety,’ he said.

‘What if Emma sees that the condom isn’t used?’

‘You think she will look so close? I don’t. Come on. Let’s get to it.’

They spent five minutes bucking and jerking around on the mattress, gasping and groaning for effect, until Poppy judged that the time was right to fake her orgasm and Bruno grunted in unison.

Oh, if only it could be real, she thought, lying back on the pillows while Bruno tried to make sure the bed looked rumpled enough. If only he could be her French cop boyfriend, about to make her some strong coffee and smoke a Gauloise after hours and hours of sex. Why could they not, just this once, break a rule?

‘I wish we could,’ she said, reclaiming her breath after all the hysterical huffing and puffing.

He stroked her forehead.

‘So do I,’ he said, looking down at her. ‘Believe me. But not tonight,
petit coquelicqot.
’

‘Now I’ll be measuring up all the clients in the club against you. I think I’m in for a lot of disappointment.’

‘You know you can call me any time.’

‘Yes. Thanks.’

‘OK, I think you have to go now. If you stay longer, I will have to take off your panties.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t stop myself.’ He raised his voice and called, ‘We are finished, you can come in.’

Poppy left the bed reluctantly and pulled her dress back on.

She couldn’t quite trust herself to look at Emma at first, convinced that something in her face would give the game away.

But Emma’s attention was on Bruno anyway, watching him lounge in the bed, mostly undressed, jabbing at buttons on his phone.

‘I hope you didn’t let him take pictures,’ she said to Poppy.

‘Oh, no, I didn’t.’

‘Good. If you showed up on a sex tube site Allyson wouldn’t be amused.’

Bruno reached for his wallet again.

‘Here,’ he said, counting out a wad of notes and proffering them.

‘Oh,’ said Poppy. ‘But …’

‘Take it,’ he hissed through clenched teeth. ‘Now.’

‘Thanks.’ She put the money in her jeans pocket without counting it.

‘Is it all there, love?’ Emma prompted her. ‘I hope you agreed the price up front.’

‘Yeah, I trust him.’

Emma laughed. ‘You really are green, aren’t you? Never mind. We’ll soon sort you out. Ready to go?’

Poppy slipped on her ballerina pumps and grabbed her jacket from the bedside chair.

‘I guess. Well, goodbye then.’

They were turning to leave, Poppy with some regret that Bruno hadn’t offered her so much as a farewell kiss, when the door began to bang and a man started shouting in rapid French.

‘
Putain
, he is drunk, ignore him,’ said Bruno, running to the door and admitting a blotchy-faced middle-aged man, who stank of beer and red wine.

Emma and Poppy were in the corridor, the sounds of an altercation between Bruno and the drunkard floating behind them, before either of them spoke.

Emma pressed the lift button.

‘Did you know he was a cop?’

Poppy felt her stomach twist.

‘What? How do you know?’

‘I speak French. They’re clearly both cops, it was obvious from the conversation they were having. You did know, didn’t you, Poppy?’

‘I …’ She couldn’t lie. The elevator mirror showed her cheeks a bright, unhappy scarlet.

‘What did you tell him?’

The lift door opened and Emma marched, holding Poppy by the wrist, out on to the street.

‘
What
did you
tell
him?’

‘Nothing, nothing. He just wanted to know if I’d taken the job willingly, and I said yes. Honestly, that was all.’

Poppy was disgusted with herself at the tears leaking from her eyes, but it had been a weird evening and she couldn’t seem to stop them.

‘Shh, all right, don’t make a scene. Come on.’

The pair of them sat down on the hotel steps, Emma wincing slightly, obviously still affected by the previous day’s episode with the cane.

‘He fucked you and he paid you for the fuck,’ mused Emma. ‘He could get into trouble for that. Now I wish you had got some photos.’

‘He isn’t out to make trouble, I swear. He’s on some kind of research trip.’

Emma shook her head. ‘Where did you come from, girl? Did they shake you out of a tree?’

Poppy rubbed her eyes, trying to blot out the tears.

‘I’ll get the sack, won’t I?’

‘No, no, you’ll be all right. I’ll take care of it. I’ll cover for you. But you have to tell me
exactly
what you told him. Did he ask about the club?’

‘Only about whether the girls did it of their own free will. Oh, and he asked about Allyson.’

Emma inhaled sharply. ‘He knew Allyson was in charge?’

‘No, he wanted to know who was in charge.’

‘And you told him? Shit. She won’t like that.’

Poppy started to cry again.

‘I’ve told you, I’ll cover for you,’ said Emma, testily. ‘I’ll say we shagged him as a duo and it was my idea.’

‘But then you’ll lose your job.’

‘Oh, no, I won’t lose my job. Me and Allyson, let’s just say we have an understanding.’

Poppy didn’t understand what Emma meant, but she was too tired to protest further, and fell gratefully into the cab Emma hailed, ready to erase the night.

Poppy checked her phone after her nine o’clock lecture and saw that she had a missed call from the club.

She phoned back and was treated to a terse, ‘Poppy, get to the club, quick as you can,’ from Allyson.

‘I have to go to the library,’ she began to protest, but Allyson cut her off.

‘Now.’

‘I’ll be half an hour.’

‘Good.’

She clicked off without a goodbye. Poppy had to sit on the wall and catch her breath. Trouble. What had Emma said? Had she kept her word and covered for her?