Shameless Exposure (8 page)

“Are you still looking for a job?”

“Sort of. I’ve got one selling classifieds but you don’t need two degrees to do that. I overheard someone in the kitchen saying you’re in medical instruments.”

“I am, Monsaint. Have you heard of us?”

“No.”

“My god, an honest person,” she laughed. “You’re meant to pretend you know all about us and have had a lifelong fascination with medical technology. What are your degrees in?”

“Chemistry and Engineering. I’ve been trying for R & D jobs but everyone’s cutting back.”

“We’re not. Send me your CV and I’ll pass it on to our head of research. We could do with a wizard. I’ll get you a card, Merlin.” She stood up and her head swam. Seeing her sway, he leapt up and caught her in his arms, holding her longer and tighter than was strictly necessary.

“Thanks,” she said, stabilised. “I’m not used to smoking anything. It’s not the done thing in the healthcare business.” She released herself from Merlin’s embrace and set off up the stairs in a second attempt to find her coat. She decided to start with the attic bedrooms at the top of the house and work down.

The first room she tried was full of guitar cases and amplifiers. The second was full of bodies, or so it seemed at first sight in the dim flickering light of an art-house pornography film. Taking a step into the room allowed closer examination. There were no coats, just three piles of clothes on one futon, and three bodies on the other.

“You came, darling,” said Xena. “We were waiting for you.”

“Well quite clearly you weren’t,” said Caroline, huffily. She was aghast to see Erik lovingly stroking Xena’s breast while Craig was massaging her toes but watching the film. She knew it was none of her business but it pained her to see Erik’s devotion to Xena. He really should be devoted to Caroline.

“I’m looking for my business card – I want to give it to somebody.” The words sounded lame and out of place. “And my phone because I’m expecting a message.” They looked at her, even Craig, tearing his eyes from the screen, like she was the most uncool person in the world.

“Never mind your business card. Come over here and stroke my other breast. Help me to the very edge of orgasm,” said Xena. In a French accent, it sounded a reasonable request. Caroline steeled herself to be free and easy going, and took three steps to the futon. She forced her hand towards Xena’s breast, caught sight of Erik’s erection, which had been hidden by Xena’s bottom, and lost her nerve. She turned and fled, upset and angry with all of them and especially with herself.

Tears blurred her eyes, but she did manage to find her coat on the pile in the first floor bedroom and extracted phone and business cards from the pocket. She tucked a business card between her boobs and searched in vain for somewhere to put the phone. The LBD did not come with pockets. In an inspired moment she tucked it into the front of her thong, checking in the full-length mirror that it didn’t make her look like she was part way through a sexual reassignment process. Thank goodness she’d chosen the mini version.

She found Merlin in the utility room behind the kitchen, talking to the other young helpful man from the bathroom. Merlin’s friend was leaning out of the back door to smoke a cigarette. Caroline produced her card with a flourish, which impressed Merlin.

“I didn’t realise you were so big… in Monsaint I mean. Head of Europe?”

“Yeah well, that’s what the card says. I’ve passed that job to a colleague. I’m looking at South America at the moment.”

“Cool. What’s it like there?”

“According to popular search engines it’s the place to be. World Cup, Olympics, growth rates that make Europe green with envy. We want to get into the personal healthcare market ahead of the Americans.” Merlin looked at her like she was the most clever, dynamic, attractive human being he had ever met.

“Get me another glass of wine and I’ll tell you about the company. It will help you target your CV.” He trotted off obediently and she smiled at his furtive tobacco smoking companion.

He looked sheepish and said: “I’m planning to give up in the New Year. Do you have another business card?”

As she reached into her cleavage, her attention was drawn to a double beep and a vibration in her thong.

“Excuse me a moment.” She turned her back on him, and, as it happened, towards the returning Merlin, who saw her pull up her dress and retrieve a phone from the lacy front panel her thong. She held up the phone like a trophy in explanation.

“I have a message.” It was after eleven o’clock and Andreas was sending her text messages again. She opened it and laughed, despite herself. The attention of these younger and older men was compensation for the recent poor behaviour of people her own age like Robert and Erik. Her fingers flew across the screen and she pressed
send
, replacing the phone in its temporary home and taking a sip of wine like a woman of the world.

A minute later she was treated to a second round of beeps and vibrations, followed swiftly by a third. She guessed Andreas’s excited fingers had pressed
send
twice by mistake. She replied promptly, telling him for added interest where she was keeping her phone. She and Robert had tried telephone sex before they were married, but text sex was a novel experience for her. She couldn’t imagine it would be satisfying, but the presence of two young admirers added a certain something.

“Shall we find somewhere more comfortable?” she said. They walked through the chaos of the kitchen and found the room which would once have been a dining room. Long curtains were pulled partly across patio doors opening onto the garden. The room was being used as a spare bedroom, furnished with a chesterfield and rails in the alcoves to hang clothes. She sat on the chesterfield; the two young men lounged on the bed.

She talked about Monsaint to Merlin and his friend, using the quarter of her brain that was necessary to trot out the inanities of corporate promotion. With the other three-quarters, she thought up dirty responses to Andreas’s fantasies.

“Who are you texting?” asked Merlin.

“It’s just someone I work with. He’s feeling lonely because he’s living away from his wife.”

“What’s he want?”

“I shouldn’t tell you. It’s just harmless flirting.”

Merlin’s friend leaned across from the bed and peered at the screen of her phone. She tried to shield it from his eyes but he saw what the text said.

“Who would use words like that?” said Merlin’s friend.

“He’s American,” explained Caroline. “They use different words to describe sex. But I’m not sure how to reply. I haven’t done this before.”

“Have you told him what you’re wearing?” asked Merlin.

“Yes, and the colour of my knickers.”

“Well you’ll have to tell him that you’re running your hands over your breasts at the thought of him
oiling his rod
,” said Merlin’s friend.

“Rolf’s a small ads copy writer,” said Merlin. “This is right up his street. He can make a banger sound like a hot rod.” She did as instructed and sent the text. The three of them giggled complicitly while they waited for a reply. A minute passed.

“I expect he’s trying to do it one handed,” said Rolf, which Caroline found very funny.

When the reply arrived, the reason for the delay became clear. Andreas had attempted an ambitious essay, involving his rod, his sod, his pod, and Caroline in several unlikely scenarios.

“What now?” said Caroline.

“Tell him it makes you feel zet to imagine his pod in your nouth,” said Rolf. She laughed at his witty misspellings. From nowhere, a warm generosity towards the young hopefuls flooded her heart. She would give them a treat, a gift from Bluebell.

“Okay,” said Caroline. Andreas’s reply was swifter.

She relayed his message to her boys. “He says he’s close to coming over his phone.”

“Yuk! Tell him you’re rubbing your… what do American’s call them?” said her copy writer.

“Bazookas. But I expect he can translate from the English. Last time this happened he said he wanted to put his spoon in my honey pot,” said Caroline, her fingers busy on the screen. When she was happy with her clever reply, she pressed send, but before the little envelope had disappeared into the ether, a new text arrived from Andreas.

She looked at Rolf and Merlin, mock disappointment on her face.

“Typical man. He’s already come, and I’d only just got started. Now I’m feeling frustrated.”

“Not all men are like that,” said Rolf, trying it on.

“You’d better be careful of him,” said Merlin. “He’s a bit of a rake.”

The woman, Caroline, who had bolted with shyness at the scene in the attic, paused for a drink of wine and contemplated her next move. Two frisky young men. She put the glass down and allowed Bluebell, the inner exhibitionist she had discovered one night at an amateur striptease competition in Spain, to guide her movements. Bluebell loved to be in control of adoring men.

“Well, let’s see if you can do better,” said Caroline.

“What me?” said Rolf. “Here? Now?”

“Both of you. I saw a woman upstairs – she had two men in bed with her. I was jealous.” It would be too difficult to explain who she was jealous of, and it wouldn’t matter to these young men anyway. Upstairs Xena had been the centre of attention, Erik’s attention. Now, she was calling the tune. The hungry eyes of Merlin and Rolf, undressing her while she sent the rude texts, showed she had them under her spell. She took her arms out of the sleeves of her dress and inched the dress down over her boobs. Their eyes widened.

“Are you sure this is OK,” asked Merlin. “Will you still take my CV?”

“That depends how well you do,” she said, hoping he realised she was joking. The men undressed quickly and it did not take them long to finish undressing her. She let them manhandle her onto the bed and play with her body, not bothering to correct their rushed technique. There was something sweet about their clumsy adoration, something stimulating about their rock-hard keenness. They had even bought condoms with them which they politely put on, after she had treated them both to a good sucking.

She let them both have a go at fucking her while she lay back on the bed, smiling to herself and enjoying their physical hunger, but before Rolf got too carried away she pushed him off and climbed back onto the chesterfield, kneeling on the seat, legs slightly apart. She held the patterned back of the settee firmly.

“You boys are giving me some idea of your abilities. But I’m not satisfied yet. You must try harder to convince me you have something to offer.” She tried to guess who was going first, redoubling his efforts, fucking in time to the bass beat that came through the wall from the front room. She couldn’t tell and didn’t care. She stopped laughing to herself, and was drawn into the concentration of feelings that presaged the approach of an orgasm. She wanted to shout but didn’t, out of consideration for the party guests in the kitchen. She felt the boy spasm inside of her and withdraw. A second firm cock restored the rhythm, speeding her towards a second coming.

When Erik opened the door he saw a look of complete abandon on Caroline’s face and Merlin reaching the heights of pleasure. He absorbed the scene. Once he had collected himself, Merlin looked embarrassed, and then frightened because Erik didn’t say anything.

“Sorry mate, she’s not your wife, is she?”

“I wish she was,” said Erik, “but no.” When Caroline had got her breath back, she thought about attempting an explanation but just said:

“Erik, can I stay at your place tonight? It’s too late to get back to Surrey.”

“A cab is on its way.”

They didn’t say a word in the taxi on the journey to Belgravia where Erik had his London residence, a ground floor flat in an imposing house looking out over a tree-filled square. When he saw Caroline’s impressed look as the cab drew up outside, he just said:

“It’s an investment. I have to do something with the money.”

There was no discussion, there was no shower. They climbed into his bohemian bed together and fell asleep, both comfortably sated by their different encounters. In the morning, Erik woke first and made red bush tea and got back into bed. She sipped her tea while they chatted like the old friends they were. She felt twenty again; free to be in love, free to be an idiot. She wanted to review the night’s hot experiences in the cool light of morning.

“Did your threesome live up to expectations?”

“Sex with Xena is like nothing else I’ve experienced,” said Erik. “She does things with her vagina which feel like an endless caress. The orgasm training means she could have sex with two men for hours and still be going strong.”

“What’s the point of that? It sounds boring. I don’t think she would have lasted long with my two young men.”

“You shouldn’t criticise what you don’t understand. There’s another dimension. You should try it, really.”

Her good mood evaporated instantly: “I’m sick of people telling me I should try new things.”

“That’s not what I meant, Caroline. Let me show you.” He turned and slid a hand between her legs.

“Not now, some of us have to go to work.” She jumped out of bed and put on her work face.

 
PART TWO

 
Seven

Robert called up the stairs. There was no reply. He edged nervously up the stone spiral, holding the cold stone wall for support. It was much easier to move around now he was back in is own dry clothes and not having to hold his robe up with one hand. Once on the higher landing he peered into Regina’s bedroom, and was relieved to see she wasn’t there.

He got out his phone to make the call, but then decided to explore the narrow flight that must lead out onto the battlements. The steps turned tightly round on themselves and became too small to place his whole foot on. He held onto a thick rope which served as a banister. Arriving at a wooden door, he pushed it open with difficulty, revealing a dusty unused bedroom, a tiny iron grate in the corner, a small wooden bed against the wall. He pulled the door closed and continued upwards, round and round in the dark until he bumped into another door.

He fumbled for the latch, stooped his head low, and emerged into a bright world and a stiff breeze. The storm had finally passed over to the mainland, its remnants blowing away the low cloud and leaving a high milky covering which almost allowed sunshine. For the first time he could see the landscape usually reserved for tourist brochures and postcards. It was worth waiting for. He was staggered by the majestic combinations of mountain and water, subtle colours layered far into the distance until the merest suggestion of mountain met a sky so similar in colour that a Dulux colour chart could hardly have separated them.

He took several deep breaths, exhaling the claustrophobic atmosphere of Regina’s regime. This afternoon the boat was bringing over supplies and he had a chance to escape back to Edinburgh, sanity, and, once back in London, Caroline. When the storm was still battering the ramparts he had promised Joni he would stay one more night to see the moon ceremony for himself. She would understand that circumstances had changed.

He spoke to Dorothy and she put him through to Forbes-Brown.

“Where the hell have you been, Robert?” was Forbes-Brown’s greeting.

“It has been hell actually,” said Robert. “A slight swell in the sound and everything grinds to a halt. I’ve had to climb onto the roof of the castle just to talk to you.”

“I don’t believe a word of it. But is the client satisfied?”

“It would take a lot to satisfy Regina Heart. It turns out her contract doesn’t actually expire until February so we’re going down the tribunal route. Cheaper all round, and they’re more likely to side with a defenceless individual against a big company.”

“Good work, Robert.”

“What?” Robert had never heard those words from Forbes-Brown before and was emboldened to make a request. “Could you look up something on your computer for me? The signal’s so poor it takes too long for the pages to load.”

“What pages? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Robert. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Forbes-Brown’s office was a museum of 1980’s work artefacts. The walls were lined with leather bound books. The coffee table supported a pile of real magazines covering subjects as wide as golf and classic cars. His means of communication to the outside world was a solid lump of phone connected to Dorothy, his secretary, who sat in an ante-room wearing a silk blouse, twin set and pearls. She did his typing, translating his elegant long-hand into a suitably legal typeface. His concession to the new century was a sleek grey laptop which he used to weigh down the pile of papers in his in-tray.

“Open it up,” said Robert. “Okay? Now there should be a world icon along the bottom. Click that.”

“Sorry Robert. It’s just a dark screen.”

“Have you switched it on?”

“How do you do that?” Dorothy had offered to give him a tutorial in 2008 but he’d not got round to it yet.

“Do you want to put me back through to Dorothy?”

“She’s on her lunch break.” The routine of the Edinburgh office day was also firmly based in the past. Staff had two tea breaks with biscuits and strictly one hour for lunch. Anyone returning to their station five minutes early was letting the side down.

“There will be a button near the top with a broken round symbol.”

There was a pause, followed by a faint whirring as the machine came to unaccustomed life. There was another long pause.

“It wants to know which country I’m in,” said Forbes-Brown, “but Scotland’s not on the list.”

“Try
United Kingdom
.”

“Got it. Now what? It says I have to register something.”

“Have you never used it before?”

“Just ask me what you want to know, Robert.”

“I want to know the weather forecast for the Western Isles. I want to know if this is a lull in the storm or the start of a fine spell.”

“Well why didn’t you say so instead of making me mess around with this bloody thing? I listen to the shipping forecast at five-thirty every morning. Let me think… There were warnings of gales in Forties, Cromarty, Forth, Trafalgar, Shannon, Rockall, Malin, Hebrides, Bailey, and Fair Isle. What are you?”

“I don’t know, Forbes-Brown.”

“What the hell do they teach at school these days? You’ll be Malin or Hebrides. In any case it was rough or very rough, becoming high in Rockall and Bailey. Moderate or good, occasionally poor.” Forbes-Brown had trained his mind to remember detail for his part two exams and the skill had never left him.

“Can you interpret that for me, Forbes-Brown?”

“It means get off that bloody island this afternoon while you can. I expect to see you here first thing in the morning.” He summarily ended the call.

Robert turned the phone over in his hand a couple of times then called Caroline. The call went straight to voicemail. She must be in a meeting. He left an upbeat message with the good news that he could begin the epic journey back to London via Edinburgh later that day. He stared out to sea, beyond the outer islands, and searched the horizon for the approach of the second instalment of the storm. It looked peaceful everywhere. He went to each corner of the battlements and drank in the scenery, imprinting it on his mind. He resolved to bring Caroline up for a holiday the next time they both had some time off work.

He set off down the stairway in search of Joni to tell her that he couldn’t stay that night for the moon ceremony. She had been insistent that he would be very welcome. She guaranteed an experience that would open his mind to the possibilities of the spirit world. He might even glimpse his own animal guardian.

“Everyone has at least one. Regina has three. Most people go through their whole lives without realising, which is so sad.” Joni looked sad. “I’m thinking of giving up modelling and becoming a full time priestess. Regina thinks I should. Her wild cat told her that I have great significance to the movement because of my name.”

“What’s special about your name?”

“I didn’t realise but
Joni
is just another spelling of
Yoni
.”

“I’m none the wiser.”

“
Yoni
is the symbol of the female genitalia. It used to be worshipped because it was recognised as a deity. Regina explained to me that there’s nothing new about her discoveries. She’s just reaching into a hidden plane that’s been there since ancient times. She believes my destiny is with the spirit.”

“Wouldn’t you miss modelling? The lifestyle, the travelling?”

“Not at all. Modelling is so empty. Regina says that the movement is growing quickly and she needs a group of committed disciples to spread the word internationally. She says the spirit has told her that America is ready for the message and that the spirit will provide millions of dollars for a centre in California next year.”

“Well she may be right on that point,” said Robert. “Her former employers probably owe her a lot of money.”

“Please stay one more day, Robert. You were in my dream last night. You helped me connect with my spirit animal.”

“How did I do that?” said Robert.

Joni blushed and lowered her head, using her hair as a shield. “I’m not like Greta and Georgina. They’re like animals already. I’ve never been able to experience this thing that everyone talks about. I know I’m getting close, very close, but it’s always just out of reach. In my dream you led me to heaven.”

“I’m glad I could help – in your dream, of course. So are you saying you can dream an orgasm but not have one awake?”

“No, it was one of those dreams which jump from one thing to another.” Joni drew back the veil of blond hair from her face and stared at him with big sincere eyes. “I just remember the feeling afterwards, not the thing itself. It was wonderful. I told Regina about my dream. It’s something she encourages us to do. She said it was a sign that I was very close and that you could guide me. She said my animal guardian was probably hiding inside you and using you to help me achieve orgasmic bliss. The moon ceremony is the perfect opportunity.”

“I think I’m flattered,” said Robert. “But you do know I’m married?”

“That doesn’t matter. The spirit doesn’t recognise conventional institutions.”

“What if it matters to me?”

“You don’t need to worry. The spirit will make sure it’s all right. Let it guide you.”

“It must be marvellous to have such faith. I’m not so sure I can trust my animal spirit. I fear it could get me into trouble.”

Robert was relieved that the break in the storm would let him avoid the dilemma posed by Joni. She was an attractive woman, pleading for his help in a matter which appealed to his vanity. He knew that in a sense she was right to choose him; he was an experienced man who could lead her to the holy grail of orgasm.

He also knew it would be wrong. So far he felt he had kept his slate clean. He had resisted the voluptuous if frightening charms of Regina. He had thanked Georgina fulsomely for her demonstration, but not participated. And he had decided, on the balance of probabilities, that he was not guilty in regard to Greta. It must have been a dream. He could leave the island with remarkable memories and a clear conscience.

He walked carefully down the treacherous steps to Regina’s bedroom. She was there, standing in front of the window that looked out over the Pap of Mura, the large hill of heather, moss and rock dominating the island. The Pap formed the majority of the island’s acreage, with only two small uncultivated fields beneath the castle walls. He was grateful she was wearing something, though the pale yellow chiffon robe, pieced by rare sunlight, did nothing to hide her extravagant curves.

She turned to face him. “It’s beautiful here. I feel so at peace.”

“It’s certainly been an experience I will never forget,” he said. “Thank you for looking after me so well. I’ll be in touch once we’ve prepared the papers.”

“You’re not leaving now. You told Joni you would stay for the moon ceremony.”

“I’d love to but Forbes-Brown needs me back in Edinburgh. Perhaps some other time?”

“I would rather you stayed.
A tiny impatience destroys a great plan,
” she said, repeating the mantra of the day that had been written up on the kitchen board. An edge of menace crept into her silky voice. “I’ll speak to Forbes-Brown.”

She picked up a phone from her dressing table and was put through to the distinguished lawyer by Dorothy. She turned back to the window and spoke to the Pap, her eyes fixed firmly on the nipple of stones which marked the summit. Her voice went quiet and girlish, she giggled, she demurred. If it had been a game of football, Forbes-Brown was having seventy per cent of the possession. But it was Regina who scored the goal. She turned to Robert.

“Spencer insists that you stay another day to allow me time to consider the work you’ve done so far. He says it will save time in the long run. Okay with you?”

Robert nodded, resigned to the manipulative power of the island queen, who resumed her giggles at Forbes-Brown’s fawning flattery.

♥ ♥ ♥

The meeting to plan the assault on South America came to a close and the project team dispersed from the drab windowless cell provided for such bursts of corporate creativity. Caroline watched them leave, yawned, and switched on her phone. She listened to the message from Robert. He would be back in London in two days.

She had no idea what she would do. She hadn’t been thinking ahead. In fact, she hadn’t been thinking at all. She had been reliving her twenty-year-old self, swept along in a tide of alcohol, drugs and strong attractions. Earlier that day she had felt so jealous of Xena she actually thought she must be in love with Erik. Unfortunately, she was not just out of her teens; she was a married woman with a responsible job. Erik, of course, thought it was simple. He had got up to have breakfast with her.

“We can have an affair,” he explained patiently at the kitchen table. “Just make sure it doesn’t damage anything important to you.”

“I don’t know how you can be off-hand about it. You keep saying you love me, but then go on about Xena. It screws everything up.”

“Only if you let it. Don’t do anything stupid, act normally and things will become normal. You have to trust the zeitgeist.”

“What’s the zeitgeist got to do with it? I don’t think Robert would accept that as a reasonable explanation for me breaking my marriage vows with you. He was suspicious of you all along.”