Shameless Exposure (14 page)

Caroline found a suitably gloomy corner, illuminated only by a tea light. Antonia bought two vodka and limes from the bar. Caroline drank it much too quickly, but just before passing the point when things would get out of hand, she had the good sense to text Robert and tell him she would need scooping up when he left work.

“He could scoop you up too, Antonia, if you like?”

“Thanks. I’ll share your cab to Waterloo and then carry on to London Bridge. But come on, spill the beans. Who else has been enjoying Bluebell’s charms?”

She told Antonia about meeting Erik Bellinker on a train, and how she had posed for a charity painting, and how he had kept making doe eyes at her until she thought
what the hell, why not
, except that when she thought that she was with two young men at a party who were after a job.

“Slow down, slow down. Erik? He was your first serious lover, wasn’t he? The one who you made love to in a glade of bluebells?”

“Bluebells? That was later on. But yes, he was very important to me. And he kept going on about how he still loved me and I would always be the only one. And I nearly fell for it. But it’s over now, the painting’s finished. There’s a big event next week when the twelve paintings will be shown to the critics and auctioned. The artists and models will be there and Princess Thingy, and the board of the cancer charity. Do you want to come? I can get you an invite.”

“What day is it? I should be back in Frankfurt, but I could fly over for the day.”

Caroline checked her smartphone. “Thursday.”

Antonia didn’t check anything. “Put me down for ticket. I’ve never met a famous artist before. So what put you off Erik? An affair sounds exciting.”

“Erik is into weird things and has strange friends. He wasn’t happy just with me in his bed, he’s a free spirit. The one good thing about the trip to South America was that it gave me chance to see what an idiot I was. He does this with all his models, tells them they’re unique and special, but always having at least two on the go. He did the same thing when I was nineteen.” Her eyes moistened.

Antonia took her hand on the table. “With you, it’s true. You are unique and special. And he’s just a jerk. Let’s change the subject. How’s your mother?”

“Which one?”

“You’ve got more than one mother? One’s too many for me.”

“Didn’t I tell you I was adopted? Bettina brought me up, she’s my real mother. We discussed whether I should try and get in touch with my birth mother. I’ve been to an adoption charity that puts people back in touch. They don’t know who she is yet, but even when they find her she might refuse to meet me. Sandra from the agency says that’s quite common. It’s a shock for people after so many years.”

“I suppose it would be,” said Antonia. “How exciting, a mystery mother. I wish I could swap mine for a different one.”

“We might not get on at all. I might hate her. I know part of me is angry at her for giving me up for adoption.”

“Let’s have another drink before Robert comes,” said Antonia. “I’m having so much fun. Same again?” Antonia leaned her slight frame against the bar for support and made eyes at the barman, who had seen it all before and affected to take no notice.

“So,” said Antonia, plonking a drink in front of Caroline, “you’ve been nude modelling for a famous artist, kidnapped in Rio de Janeiro, ravaged by your boss, and are seeking a secret mother. Now tell me your gossip.”

“Don’t tease me Antonia. You make it sound like I have no morals. You know I try to do the right thing. Anyway, you can talk. I haven’t forgotten what you did with my husband last year.”

“I haven’t forgotten either, but I hope you don’t blame him. I made him tie me up, I wanted to know what it was like.”

“Antonia. It’s not just that I’ve had a bit to drink, I forgive you. I forgave Robert too, ages ago. I even offered to let him tie me up.”

“And did he?”

“Not properly. It was my fault. I couldn’t take it seriously. I laughed at him for being lousy at knots and he got offended. But I would try it again. I like the idea of him being masterful and me being at his mercy.”

“Their egos are so fragile,” said Antonia. “You have to pretend to take them seriously.”

“Who’s got a fragile ego?” Robert had found them in the corner of the bar, and they had been so engrossed they had not seen him come in. “You two look like you’ve been here a while.” He bent down through the alcohol fumes and kissed Caroline and then Antonia.

“Le’ me get you a drink,” said Antonia.

“No, you sit there, I’ll get them. Just one, then we’d better get going. I don’t want Caroline snoring on the train back to Guildford.” Robert disappeared to the bar, busier now that offices and shops had released their slaves.

“As I was saying,” said Antonia, “you have to make it seem serious, unless the man’s a bastard to start with. I had to provoke Robert, be a bit stroppy, and then he was putty in my hands. Let’s get him back to my place and I’ll show you what to do.”

“We could give Robert a treat,” said Caroline. “I think I owe him one. Would you mind? Could three squeeze into your bed? It would balance the account and I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about those two young men at the party.”

The two women conspired while Robert waited patiently at the bar. He still felt like a gooseberry even after a double malt whiskey. The women kept whispering to each other and dissolving into laughter half way through a sentence. Eventually he ushered them out into the foggy rush hour and hailed a black cab to take them to Waterloo.

Caroline and Antonia sat with their arms around each other as they edged through the busy streets while Robert perched on the pull down seat opposite them. They were obviously up to something, high as kites, their skirts riding up their legs. It was a pity that Caroline would inevitably be lulled to sleep by the boring train journey and by the time they got home the fun would have gone out of her. Caroline leaned forward and took Robert’s hand.

“Darling, Guildford is such a long way away. Why don’t we stay up in town tonight?”

“It’s not a bad idea,” said Robert. He pulled out his phone to look up a late hotel booking.

“No, you don’t need a hotel,” said Antonia, waving her hand. “You can stay at my place. You two can have the bedroom and I’ll make up the sofa bed.”

“Where am I going?” said the taxi driver, wearily.

“Still London Bridge, but no need go via Waterloo,” said Robert. “Just take a left along the river before the station.”

“I see you haven’t forgotten where she lives,” said Caroline, trying her best to look severe. “I’ve only just realised Antonia’s flat wasn’t really on your way home, was it?”

Ten minutes later they were in the mirrored lift speeding up to the twenty-first floor. Antonia had her arms round Caroline’s neck and was giving her a snog. Robert feared a messy situation but let Antonia pour him a glass of red wine. The women would probably pass out soon, they must have been drinking since lunch time.

Antonia staggered around collecting bed linen and began pulling cushions off the sofa. She scratched her blond bob, unsure how the thing was meant to turn into a bed. Robert took over and wrestled with the contraption until it was flat enough to lie down on.

Antonia took Caroline’s hand. “Come into my bedroom. I want to show you my toys.” She turned to Robert and gave him a wicked look. She didn’t shut the door. She opened the fitted wardrobe and took out her box of equipment, updated and supplemented since her first experiment with Robert. Caroline appeared to take great interest in each item, asking Antonia to demonstrate how the cuffs and clamps worked. Robert poured himself another glass of wine, got out his tablet computer to follow the football, and tried to ignore the giggles and ominous silences that came from the bedroom.

After a particularly long silence, he went up to the bedroom door and peered round.

“Are you two all right in there? Still conscious?”

“You can have the sofa bed,” said Caroline, emerging from under Antonia’s duvet. “We’ll have the proper bed.”

Robert felt a flash of annoyance; bloody selfish women! He’d been hopeful of exciting drink-fuelled sex with Caroline, and here she was smooching with Antonia. He should have insisted on a hotel. He lay down on the so-called sofa bed, comparing it unfavourably to the rack at Dunlaggin Castle, which at least would provide some support for the back. He tried to block out the giggles and moans of pleasure that were coming from the bedroom and concentrate on the text updates of the football scores. Was that moan Caroline or Antonia?

“Robert?” Antonia’s head peeked round the bedroom door. “I was trying to show Caroline how to use my things but it’s no good in the bedroom, there’s nothing to fix anything to. Caroline was wondering if we could swap rooms for a while and then I could tie Caroline to the coffee table like you did with me.”

Robert stomped into the bedroom. Caroline wouldn’t meet his eyes. She wrapped Antonia’s duvet around her and scooted through to the living area. Antonia collected the equipment from the bedroom and instructed Caroline where to lie, face down across the cold glass of the long low table. Antonia worked her way round the table securing Caroline’s bare limbs to the legs with a mixture of cuffs and ties. She deliberately made a poor job of it and Caroline complained loudly that it was no good, she could easily move if she wanted to.

Robert was determined not to get drawn into their antics and pushed the bedroom door shut. He checked the tablet: Manchester United losing at half time. This was turning into a bad day.

Antonia pushed the bedroom door ajar. “Robert?”

“Yes?”

“Caroline’s been a naughty girl. Not only does she keep trying to get away, but she says her boss Andreas is more of a man than you are.”

“Does she, indeed?”

“She told me she keeps having fantasies about him.”

Robert slammed the tablet down on the bed and marched into the living room.

“What’s this about your boss? Don’t tell me…”

Caroline smirked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know? I’ve been wicked and I need to be pulled into line, but you’ll have to tie me up tighter first.” She waved an arm and a leg.

Robert was hooked. He re-secured the ties and tightened the leather cuffs until she really couldn’t move an inch. He handed Antonia two long black feathers and ordered her to use them all over Caroline’s body.

“No, stop.” She laughed and wriggled around on the table but the ties held firm.

“Confess,” said Robert.

“I haven’t done anything,” said Caroline. “I’m innocent.”

“Why did you say that about your boss? Antonia, spank her until she confesses.”

Four loud slaps later, Caroline was still protesting her innocence. Antonia went back to the bedroom and emerged with a leather flail.

“This stings a bit,” said Antonia. “I remember.”

“I’m sworn to secrecy,” said Caroline. “Do your worst.”

When he and Caroline had tried this before, when she had laughed at his ropemanship, he hadn’t been able to slap Caroline properly with his hand or anything else. This time he swung the flail with enthusiasm.

Antonia watched Caroline’s bottom turn red and was turned on by the spectacle. She pulled down her knickers, got down on the floor, and presented herself to Caroline’s mouth. Caroline licked steadily and delicately like a cat between strokes of the flail, but nipped Antonia when the flail stung her flesh so that they cried out together.

Robert was still dressed. He was tempted to get his tablet and take a picture of the scene before him, but knew it would look seedy out of context. So instead he took off his shirt, knelt down, and pushed his face between Caroline’s reddening legs, using his tongue to replace intense pain with intense pleasure. She fought against her restraints to open herself up to his tongue and he used his hands to spread her buttocks more. Every jab of his tongue sent another shudder through his wife’s body.

Antonia soaked up the sexual energy coursing through Caroline and used firm fingers to circle the hood of her own clitoris, enhancing the intermittent lapping of Caroline’s tongue. She pressed herself into Caroline’s face and nearly smothered her with a long, tumultuous orgasm.

“I saw it, I saw it,” Antonia said triumphantly, when she had regained her breath.

“Saw what?” said Robert.

“My animal guide; a beautiful deer.” Her wide eyes froze on Robert’s. “And you are a snow leopard who is about to consume me.”

“I said you could have sex with him,” said Caroline. “You don’t need to talk twaddle. Just let me off this table first. I want to join in.”

“Why did you say Antonia could have sex with me?” said Robert.

“Don’t you want to?” said Caroline.

“What’s the right answer? I don’t know what’s going on; you left me out of the plotting.”

Antonia took the initiative and started undoing Caroline’s restraints.

“Stop squabbling like a married couple and come to bed with me this moment. I’m absolutely desperate for a proper fuck and bags I go first.” She took Robert’s hand and dragged him through to the bedroom.

 
Thirteen

Caroline woke early consumed by guilt and thirst. What madness had overcome her? It was so unlike her to feel sexually generous towards Robert. Normally she was as jealous as the next woman. She wondered if the alcohol could have influenced her judgement.

She stared at the pale lilac wall, feeling a small warm hand resting on her hip. When did the fun time with Antonia turn into the crazy notion that it would be okay to share Robert, even for one night? Caroline turned her head. Antonia was still in the middle, both she and Robert still asleep. He had an arm around Antonia’s waist. Caroline rolled out of the bed and onto the warm wooden floor. She crawled into the bathroom and showered, alternating hot and cold water to revive herself.

Slightly refreshed, she padded back into the bedroom and checked her backside in the mirror of the wardrobe. The redness had gone, apart from a few crossed lines and squiggles like someone had written the start of a symphony on her bottom.

She quietly opened a drawer in the wardrobe in search of a clean pair of knickers. She found the right drawer, but there was nothing the least bit practical. She recognised the silver thong Antonia had worn to the club in Spain; too small. She found a pair of silk French bloomers, black; too big, they would show beneath the hem of her skirt. She went deeper towards the back of the drawer and dug out a stretchy nude Sloggi thong. Just right, they would fit over her hips. She dressed and slipped out of the flat.

It was already noisy in the street below. She managed the short walk to London Bridge Station without stumbling. She picked up a coffee and a bottle of spring water from a cafe on the way into the Underground.

Settling into her seat on the tube another wave of guilt crashed over her. Not about anything in particular, just guilt. And jealousy; she had left the two of them together in bed. Robert was bound to wake up with an enormous erection. He always did the morning after sex, and Antonia never was one to let an erection go to waste. They would be having long, languorous, satisfying morning sex. And she was on the tube to a high rise office in Stratford, world headquarters of Monsaint Medical Instruments.

Everyone on the tube had their nose in a free newspaper or an expensive tablet. She drank the whole bottle of water straight down and sipped the Latte. Once a handful of brain cells had half woken up she reached into her coat pocket for her smartphone. She ignored the texts and answerphone messages and checked her work emails to make sure there were no nasty surprises. Then she looked up the Monsaint share price to make sure it was still going in the right direction to trigger her share options in the New Year. She wanted a new bathroom with a corner bath big enough for her and Robert to be in at the same time and one of those showers like a tropical forest in the rainy season.

The phone messages were from people in other companies trying to sell her things. The texts were from Andreas and were sent after eleven p.m. She had fallen into a drunken stupor long before then. She should have guessed; they were not about work. The man didn’t seem to understand the word ‘no’. She had tried being polite and subtle but it hadn’t worked. She would have to tell him loud and clear that she didn’t feel anything towards him and she never would. She considered composing a text reply but decided it would be easier to go into his office and deliver the message verbally.

She marched through the automatic doors of the office which only just accommodated the speed of her movement. Colin the security guard looked up from page three of his newspaper and gave her an encouraging smile.

“Good morning, Miss Fanshaw.”

“You know it’s Mrs, Colin.”

“One day you’ll realise you made the wrong choice.”

“If it was only one wrong choice I would be okay.”

“You’re better than the lot of them put together. Go sort ‘em out, Miss.”

She signed in with her swipe card and walked past Julia Sinbad into the inner sanctum with her head held high, as if she had a meeting with Andreas. He was not there. But there was a plate of doughnuts on the low table with a flask of coffee and a tray of china cups. She was light-headed with hangover hunger. She’d had nothing since the rocket salad with Antonia. It was a big pile of doughnuts, different varieties. Most of them would probably go uneaten. She took a chocolate one with a hole in the middle and scoffed it quickly, leaving traces of chocolate around her mouth.

She was still thirsty. She poured herself a cup of black coffee from the flask. She carried it round to the back of Andreas’s slab of a desk and placed it on the blotter. The cup made a brown ring; she really should have used a saucer. Board members used a saucer. She had always wondered what it would be like to sit in that high-backed leather chair, swivelling from side to side like an evil genius. She would try it out for size, just for a second.

She settled down into the padded seat and put her feet on the carpeted floor. In front of her was a pile of papers. She picked one up, and leaned back nonchalantly, holding it some distance from her eyes. She drank some coffee. Yes, this was definitely what she was born to do.

“Caroline, why are you sitting in my chair? And why have you got chocolate around your mouth? I didn’t expect you to take my texts literally, not here, anyway.”

“Sorry Andreas, I was thinking of getting a chair like this for my office at home and I wanted to see if it was comfortable.”

“I see you’ve made yourself at home, drinking the board’s coffee, going through my papers.”

She stood up, tried to pick up the coffee and put down the paper at the same time, spilling the coffee over the papers. Andreas rushed forward to rescue the papers from the pool of brown liquid, but knocked half of them on to the floor. She bent down to pick them up and realised it was several pages of his expenses claim from the trip to South America. She leaned closer to check what she had seen. The moment her back was turned she felt his hand go up her dress and fondle her arse.

“Andreas!”

“Who’s come to work with a bare bottom?”

“Get your hands off me.”

“Why are you playing hard to get all of a sudden? You weren’t so frigid in Rio.”

“I came in here to tell you to stop sending texts. It’s got to stop. I’m a married woman. If there’s any more I’ll make a complaint.”

“Who to? The boss?”

“Andreas, I don’t want to complain. I know you’ve helped my career. Just stop the texts and let’s get back to how we were before.”

“Like when I was in London and you were in Frankfurt?”

“Yes, like that.”

“Okay, if that’s the way you want it. Now if you’d care to let me get on with running the company…” Andreas gestured towards the door with an extended arm. “Tell Ivan to come in on your way out.”

Ivan Kalashnikov, Director of Finance, Andreas’s loyal number two, and Caroline’s line manager. She guessed she was going to be sent to Siberia. She went across to Ivan’s desk and gave him the message with a smile that looked like a grimace, then back to where Julia Sinbad was sitting, head down over a bible-sized contract.

“Julia, I’ve seen something that’s bothering me. I have to tell someone, someone I can trust. Can we go to the small meeting room for a few minutes?”

“If you’re sure it’s necessary,” said Julia.

The meeting room was like a cell in a modern prison, but without the window. Julia closed the door. The strip lighting made Caroline look as white as quality copier paper. Julia handed Caroline a paper tissue.

“You’ve got something round your mouth. I’ve only got a few minutes. What is it?”

“I’m telling you this because you’re a woman and I think you’ll understand. I know Andreas has told you the basic facts of what happened in Rio.”

“It was very worrying.”

“You bet it was. But what’s even more worrying is that I think Andreas was involved in setting it all up.”

“Be careful what you say. It’s a serious matter to make allegations against the Chief. Are you suggesting he engineered a romantic setting so that you would seduce him?”

“What? Me seduce him? No, I’m talking about the kidnap – when I was taken from the beach to a house in the hills.”

“Andreas said nothing about a kidnap. He said you went to an unauthorised meeting with the parent company of
Instrumentos Medicos
and used your inside knowledge of Monsaint’s strategy to try for a vice-president post with them. And when he found out, you pleaded for your job, seduced him, and persuaded him not to say anything.”

“Oh my God, Julia, this is unbelievable. I was snatched from Copacabana beach. I thought I was going to be raped and murdered. But I saw Andreas’s expense claim in his office and it includes the cost of a pleasure boat, a country villa, hiring two security guards, a van and a Range Rover. And fourteen bunches of bloody flowers. I think he kidnapped me so that he could rescue me and I would, well, fall gratefully into his arms.”

“Andreas sends flowers to the office manager of every business he visits to say ‘thank you’ for their hospitality. It’s one of his nice touches.”

“I know rather too much about his nice touches.”

“So you admit being in his arms?”

“It wasn’t quite that romantic. I was just glad to be alive.”

“Leave it with me,” said Julia. “Give me a couple of hours to speak to Paul and one of the non-executive directors. This is really very sensitive.”

“Shouldn’t I speak to Paul? Make a formal complaint to HR?”

“Definitely not, leave it to me.”

“Thanks, Julia. I knew I could rely on you.”

Back at her desk, Caroline found it impossible to concentrate. She felt like she had opened the can of worms and now they were crawling all over her. Monsaint had been her whole life for the past five years, and she was at odds with the big boss. She tried to ring Robert to tell him she had a problem with Andreas. He would know the best way to handle it. His phone was switched off; she hoped he was in court and not still in bed with Antonia.

By lunch time there was still no word from Julia so she went out for some fresh air and to browse the second hand book stall under the railway arches. It was run by a grey-haired woman in a red woolly hat.

“Are you looking for anything in particular, love?”

“Do you have an advice manual for people who have screwed up their lives?”

“Oh dear, I think you need this one.” The woman handed her a book with a lurid cover.

“It doesn’t look like a self-help book,” said Caroline.

“It works just the same,” said the woman. “You read it and realise it could be much worse. It’s based on a real-life story.”

“With a cover like that? How do you know it’s real-life?”

“Cos I wrote it, love, twenty years ago. I used to look more glamorous than this. Those cabinet ministers were a funny lot, but you can’t change the past. I’m happier doing this than I ever was then. My idea of the high-life now is a flask of tea and a biscuit. Would you like some?”

Caroline shared the woman’s sweet tea and felt fortified. Something would be worked out, wise heads would prevail. She bought the woman’s dog-eared life story and jammed it into her pocket. When she strode back into HQ, Colin was waiting for her with a message.

“I’m sorry, Miss Fanshaw, you’re to wait down here. Mr Larkins is coming down to see you.”

“Paul? Down here? What’s wrong with up there?”

“I’m afraid you’re not to be allowed in.”

“Not allowed in? I work here.”

“Mr Larkins will be down to explain. I’ve told him you’re here.”

She took one of the seats normally occupied by hopeful photocopier sales staff and prospective interns clutching CVs. The lift doors opened and a grim faced Paul Larkins emerged carrying a box. Colin buried his head in his newspaper.

“These are your things,” said Paul. “Can I have your phone, please?”

“What’s going on, Paul? And no, you can’t have my phone. I need it to make calls.

“I have to insist. It’s company property and evidence as well.”

“Evidence of what, exactly?”

“You have been suspended while I investigate an allegation of gross misconduct.”

“Hang on a minute. You’re suspending me? I’m the bloody victim. You should be suspending Andreas.”

“We only suspend the person against whom the allegation has been made. Witnesses continue at work. In any case, you can’t suspend the chief executive; just think what would happen to the share price.”

“What is this allegation against me? Who’s made it?”

“I can’t say anything more until I’ve conducted the investigation. You’ll get a letter within a week outlining the allegations. You’ll get a chance to reply at a hearing.”

“This is absurd. Andreas put his hand up my dress this morning.”

“Please don’t say anything; it will only make things worse. And think very carefully about your position. I’m not allowed to suggest you resign. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Me, resign? I told you, I’m the victim. He’s been pestering me for weeks.”

“I understand you’re upset. Everyone is when it comes to this point. But I’ve been in HR all my working life and never, I mean, never, does it work out well if it goes to a company hearing. When there’s a dispute between an executive and a more senior executive, the more senior executive always wins. So go home and think about it. Sometimes it’s best to learn a lesson and cut your losses.”