Shameless Exposure (9 page)

“Don’t beat yourself up. It may be some time before I’m satisfied with your incarnation as Miss November. I will have to make adjustments over the next few weeks.”

“Is that all it would be for you? A few weeks?”

“Please try, for once, to live in the moment.” He brought her into the moment with a lingering kiss.

His last comment had struck home. She knew he was right. They had split up in her student days because she was always looking into the future and he refused to be tied down. So she ate her toast, drank her coffee, and went to work in borrowed but clean, knickers and tights, little black dress and heels.

At the office she kept her coat on for as long as possible, thinking she would stand out like a harlot. After half an hour she realised that she had more flesh covered than most of the young women in the office and removed the coat to cool off.

Andreas left his inner sanctum to do a morning tour of the departments. She watched him work his motivational magic on the aspiring risers, put the fear of god into the plodders, and ruthlessly ignore the idle few with desks near the exit, Japanese style. When his performance was complete, he planted two hands on Caroline’s desk and appraised her outfit, which he noticed conformed in every visible detail to the description she had given him by text the night before.

“How did your South America meeting go? Is the strategic plan ready?”

“It will be on your desk by the end of the day.”

“We publish the half year results end of January. The numbers should be okay but I want a rabbit to pull out of the hat to give the share price a lift. I want to be able to say something definite about South America. I think we should go before Christmas.”

“We?”

“Yes. No disrespect to your obvious talents but I want the potential partners to see that Monsaint is fully committed to that market. I plan to lead.”

“That’s nice, you’ll be able to see your wife.”

“Unfortunately not. Six countries in nine days, there won’t be any time for R&R. Julia Sinbad has done a provisional schedule; I need you to make the calls and set up the meetings. We can fly out on Sunday.”

“Who else do you suggest should be on the team?”

“It will be just you and me. I asked Julia if she could spare the time but she’s up to her neck in complex legal stuff. We’re re-registering the company on the Isle of Man for a month to cut the tax bill.”

“Is that legal?”

“Of course it is. Ivan says everyone’s doing it. You can only do it once, but hey, six million extra is six million extra.”

Convenient, thought Caroline, because six million would be enough to reach the upper level profit target that would kick in Andreas’s three-times-salary bonus. She wondered why it was necessary for the success of any large enterprise to pay the Chief Executive so much more than anyone else. It didn’t seem to bother Andreas. She hoped that one day, in five or ten years’ time, she would get to experience the dilemma at first hand. Not for the money, but because she could see that she was as good as any of those who gathered every morning in the inner sanctum.

Unfortunately her boss, finance director Ivan, was welded to Monsaint and was also stalking the top job. Ivan was next in line, blocking her path. He could see that Andreas had been appointed from outside to root out the nepotism of Melody Bigger’s regime, but once the big-shot American was headhunted again, the pitch would be clear for Ivan’s safe pair of hands.

Caroline’s immediate concern was the prospect of abandoning Robert and Erik for nine days. Robert, well he deserved it for fooling around up in Scotland. But Erik? How could she fly away and leave him to Xena for nine days. She had allowed Erik to declare his love for her, suggest an affair, and all she wanted to do was rush back to his studio the minute she could get away from work and let him touch her up, artistically and physically.

Back at her desk, she emailed Christian in the finance department on the floor below, and ordered him to put version six of next year’s forecast to one side in favour of phoning her list of potential partner companies in South America.

Christian was eager for the opportunity to do something for his former boss. He pulled up a chair on wheels and crammed himself on the end of Caroline’s desk. By the evening they had meetings set up in all the major cities of South America, except Sao Paulo, because Andreas’s Spanish surname did not work the same magic as it had everywhere else. They would have to have another bash at Brazil tomorrow.

Caroline hailed a cab to Whitechapel, glad that Robert’s continued absence absolved her from the commute back to Surrey. Erik let her have a shower, but was impatient for her to model for an hour. He said he’d had some new insights and wanted to translate them while they were fresh. Although she was starving, she didn’t complain much, and when he had made his alterations, she enticed him onto the sofa and let him put his painty hands all over her clean skin. They made love there and then, postponing dinner.

They remained locked together long after he had come, her arms around his soft waist. He was no longer the starving garret artist; success was beginning to show, especially with his clothes off. She squeezed him gently and pressed against his warm skin, holding him to her with her legs as if she would never let him go.

Finally he said: “It’s getting late. We can stay the night here. I’ll call up a take-away.” He didn’t consult, just extricated himself from her grasp and put through his usual order with modifications for her more conservative palate.

“Wine?”

“Red please.” She slipped on her model’s robe.

He poured her a glass of Pinot Noir. “You can have one glass of this while we wait but I’m opening a Sancerre to go with the food.”

“I’m going away on Sunday for a couple of weeks.” She was hoping the prospect of her going away would make his heart fonder.

“That’s sudden. Am I invited?”

“Definitely not, it’s work. Andreas has brought forward the push on the South American market.”

Erik frowned and sipped his wine. “I don’t want you to go away. This magic is rare. I want us to experience it fully.”

“Don’t make it difficult, Erik. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing if we allow a couple of weeks to cool off. We both might feel different then.”

“If you go away it will ruin everything.”

“A couple of days ago it was all Xena and her amazing vagina. Why are you, of all people, getting possessive all of a sudden?”

“It’s not possession, it’s recognition. It’s realising what matters and going with that.”

“Well my job matters to me and I’m going with that. In any case, I have no choice, Andreas is leading the trip himself.”

“What? Your boss is taking you on a trip to South America?”

“A business trip, yes.”

“How big is this delegation?”

“I can’t believe you, Erik.”

“It’s just the two of you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but that’s perfectly normal in business. I can look after myself. Do you think I sleep with every man I work with?”

“According to Xena you got through quite a few of them in Germany.”

“Well it’s a good job you’ll have Xena to keep you company because I’m going, and I won’t be coming back. You’re a rude, horrible man, Erik Bellinker, and I will say so to everyone I meet.” She got up from the couch and began to gather her things together, intending to make a quick getaway without any clear idea of a destination. Erik put his hands dramatically over his head.

“Okay, I admit it, I’m jealous. It’s taken me by surprise. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have said that about Germany. Please don’t go, not tonight anyway.”

She was determined not to waver but then the buzzer went from downstairs announcing the arrival of two elaborate trays of Japanese food, one with generous helpings of vegetable tempura and sushi for her, the other with pickles and sashimi for him. She looked at the trays and put her pile of clothes down.

“I suppose a girl’s got to eat. I’ll stay, but only if you promise to live in the moment,” she said, with a satisfied smile.

 
Eight

The tables were filled with smiling, chattering women. Nobody missed dinner this time, and not just because of the bottles of wine on the tables. Everyone was looking forward to the moon ceremony. For the majority, it would be their first attempt to make contact with an animal spirit. It would also be, except for the wayward Jocasta, their first physical release for at least twenty seven days, a release they had been skirting around with increasing difficulty in their daily practice.

The upper reaches of the legal profession were one of the few remaining areas of modern work life, apart from rubbish collection, which was still a predominately male environment. Robert was not used to being outnumbered so comprehensively and sat down next to Angus for moral support once he had collected his bowl of yellow lentil stew with yellow rice from the kitchen.

“Ye decided to stay then?” said Angus, taking off his cap and placing it on the table.

“Regina more or less insisted, but I am curious to see the ceremony.”

“Well I hope ye are feeling energetic. Ye may be in demand later on.”

“Not me, I’m married.” Robert picked at his lentils, his appetite not stimulated by the smell or the texture.

“There’s no one married on Mura. That’s what Miss Heart says, anyway. Ye best be prepared. Eat yer stew.”

“What about you? Are you married?”

“Nay. I’m still looking for the right girl. There’s not many single lasses on Sporran.” From his grizzled looks, Robert guessed Angus had been looking for a long time. Angus drained his cup of wine.

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Aye, lived there all my life.”

“What about the women who come to Castle Dunlaggin? Lots of them seem to be single and looking for something or someone.”

Angus leaned towards Robert and spoke conspiratorially. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad of the work ferrying people here and there and doing odd jobs for Miss Heart. But most of these lasses are wrong in the head. I wouldn’t want a girl of mine to get up to what they get up to.”

“But surely there’s nothing wrong with masturbation?”

“In front of strangers?”

“But it’s not just mindless sex, is it? They’re trying to connect with some bigger power, develop themselves spiritually.”

“You’ve no been taken in by this nonsense have you?”

“Not taken in I hope. I’m just trying to keep an open mind. It’s part of my training.” Robert immediately wished he hadn’t reminded Angus that he was a lawyer. Angus gave him a look of contempt and refilled both their cups with wine.

“Well don’t say I didn’t warn ye.” That was Angus’s final word on the matter, so Robert struck up a conversation with a stocky woman sitting on the other side of him. Linda was older than most of the other acolytes, in her forties he would guess. Robert noticed she hadn’t touched the wine in the cup in front of her. She said she was divorced and this was part of her project to get her life back together. She had decided to expose herself to as many new experiences as possible.

“What about you?” Linda said. “I’ve only been here two weeks but I gather it’s unusual for men to participate in the programme.”

“I’m not here for the programme,” said Robert. “I came to help Regina with a legal matter and ended up staying longer that I expected.”

“But I’m sure I saw you come out of one of the practice rooms with Georgina?”

“Yes well, it’s hard not to get drawn in if you spend a few days here. It does raise some questions.”

“Yes, it does,” said Linda. “More questions than answers. I’m hoping I’ll understand it all better after the ceremony.”

“Me too,” said Robert.

“You’re not intending to be at the ceremony are you? Surely that’s only for women. I would be very embarrassed if there was a man there.”

“Regina and one of the acolytes said they wanted me to be here for the ceremony. I’ll ask Regina, or you could. Tell her your feelings on the matter and I’ll go along with what’s decided. I don’t want to intrude.”

“That’s kind of you, young man. I wish all men were so understanding.”

After dinner they all mucked in to wash the dishes and the floors before retiring for an hour to allow the moon to rise. They had been instructed to reconvene in the great hall, where mats had been arranged in a large circle around a central dais. Shafts of moonlight from the high windows of the hall striped the floor with silver bars.

The two Wimples, who guarded the large double doors at the back of the hall, collected the proselytes’ sandals as they entered. Regina was already in position, naked and in a trance, on the dais. A log fire burned brightly at the far end, spitting sparks up the wide chimney. Clusters of candles burned at each of the four corners of the room. They each chose a mat some, like Joni, selecting the light of the moon; others, like Linda, preferring the privacy of dark shadow.

Robert moved towards the dais to tell Regina about Linda’s objection to his presence. Two women leapt up and dragged him back before he could reach the platform.

“Have you no manners?” said the taller woman, angrily. “You have to wait until you’re summoned. And you have to be naked.”

“Apologies,” said Robert, “only I’m not sure if I’m meant to be here.”

“We all have doubts from time to time,” said the cross woman, more sympathetically. “Sit down and let the spirit speak to you.”

Robert chose a mat in the shadows and hoped he would disappear into the darkness and out of all their minds. He sat cross legged, with some discomfort. He hated the thought of causing embarrassment. A silvery arm, orgatron bracelet around the wrist, reached into his shadow and placed a hand on his knee.

“I’m so glad you decided to come,” said Joni. “I feel it will happen for me tonight. You have been sent by the vagina spirit.” Robert quashed the urge to correct her on that point. He had been sent by Forbes-Brown, who definitely had nothing to do with the spirit, unless that spirit was forty percent proof and aged at least ten years in oak barrels.

Murmuring music seeped into the hall from strategically placed loud speakers. Robert tried to place the sound and then remembered it from Ibiza:
Mystic Jungle Revisited.
Inspired by the tribes of somewhere or other and recorded in a studio in Paris on a synthesizer, it sounded ethereal in the surroundings and he began to sway in time to the music. He became aware of a heavenly smell as bowls of scented oil released their perfume, warmed by candles. He heard the doors clang shut.

Regina Heart rose from her platform and spoke above the music soundtrack.

“We are privileged to be gathered together on the night of the full moon. The spirit has favoured you by halting the storm. Conditions are ideal for every one of us to connect with our own spirits and draw strength from them. Open yourself, and they will guide you.

“You have practiced hard for many days. Some have struggled, some have suffered. Now is the time to put your practice to good use, to build towards an orgasm so intense that the power of the vagina will open the door to your spirit. You have learnt to control your autonomic system. Use what you have learnt. Take your time. Be in control until you lose control. Do not be satisfied until you have met your spirit. No more words…”

So saying she turned towards the moonlight, reached towards her vagina and began a slow, sensuous dance with her fingers. Robert took his cue from the other celebrants and watched in silence.

Regina followed her own teachings and took her time. After her initial explorations, she walked over to a bowl of perfumed oil and dipped her hands into it. She rubbed the oil over her entire body, studying her own anatomy with great care. Robert knew she had done this sort of thing before, in a previous life and in a completely different context. Then, the audience had been men in search of a temptress or a light beating.

Now the audience was mostly female, but they were in her pocket just the same, watching every move. It was quite a performance. Despite his loathing of the woman, his autonomic system responded to her sensuous moves. He wanted to be a dispassionate observer, but he was a man, and he felt a lurid fascination for her pagan performance.

She returned to the dais, glistening in the candlelight. Her expert fingers resumed their dance. Large slow movements around her vagina became tiny strokes around her clitoris. She adjusted her rhythms to the ebb and flow of the music. Her body, loose and relaxed at the beginning, became tauter.

Her breathing became shallow, and she began to mew, her eyes vacant. Suddenly she tensed and collapsed onto the soft platform. Robert wondered if that was the end of the show, but no, it was just a brief interval whilst Regina regained control over an impending orgasm. A draught stuttered the candles and sent a volley of sparks up the chimney. Regina stirred back to life.

She was on her back, but knees bent and feet flat on the platform, raising her bottom up. She caressed her breasts and the rest of her torso, wet her fingers in her mouth, and reached down again to raise the spirit.

Joni leaned across him to get a better view. Even in this light it was evident from Regina’s hard nipples and full labia that the actress had entered into the part with gusto. She began slowly again, this time using her fingers to open her vagina and massage inside. She emitted a series of deep sighs which became more urgent when her fingers returned to the hood of her clitoris.

Her body began to move, first like the waves of the sea, and then like the thrashing of the storm. Her cries became louder, more animal. She was possessed, jerked around by the spirit, and appeared to rise up at least two feet off the dais. Robert was sure he saw it. He turned to Joni, open mouthed, but she did not look at him. Her eyes were fixed on Regina, a look of wonder on her face.

When his eyes returned to the platform, Regina was back on terra firma, face down on the cushions, one hand frantically grasping the fabric spread over the dais, the other bringing herself to an almighty climax. Her screams of pleasure filled the hall and went on rather too long for comfort.

Robert thought she had had a seizure. She lay in the same position for some minutes, gasping for breath. Robert wondered if someone should offer medical attention, or even non-medical help. But Lucinda, one of the acolytes, was a doctor and she wasn’t doing anything so it must be all right. Maybe some women always have cataclysmic orgasms. He preferred Caroline’s more sporting approach; a healthy satisfying shag without too much messing about.

Regina emerged from her trance and smiled beatifically to her disciples.

“I have been visited by the wild cat. He says this is an auspicious day. The vaginal spirit is getting stronger with every passing month and nothing can stop the movement from leading the world to ecstasy. Now, all of you summon up your spirits. No one must leave until every orgatron has flashed red. Your spirits must be welcomed, must be played with, and must be fed. The movement needs your collective vaginal power in order to grow. It is your duty. Seek your spirit.”

“Did you see that?” whispered Joni. “The big cat entered her body and she levitated off the platform.”

“I thought I must be imagining it,” said Robert.

“You see, you shouldn’t be cynical. Regina has tapped into the eternal powers.”

There was a general shifting of bottoms as the proselytes absorbed what they had witnessed and faced up to the communal masturbation which they were required to perform.

“I think I should probably leave now,” said Robert. “My presence might inhibit some of the women.”

“You can’t. No one can leave.” whispered Joni. “We had a meeting before dinner to discuss it. Some of us said it might help to have a man present. There was a difference of opinion but we had a vote and the vote was that you attend, and participate if necessary.”

“What does participate mean?”

“It means some of us might need you to help us contact the spirit. Now be quiet. I have to concentrate.” Joni shrugged off her robes and walked over to the nearest bowl of warm oil, her long perfect silvery limbs gliding across the stone floor like a computer generated image. One by one, the other proselytes discarded their clothing and smothered their bodies in perfumed oil, returning to the comfort of their individual mats to begin their onanistic routines.

“You too,” hissed Joni, when she settled down on her mat, gesturing to him to remove his clothing. “You must enter into the spirit of things or it will spoil it for the rest of us.”

Robert’s autonomic system had been well and truly engaged by the sight of a score of women disrobing in moonlight and anointing themselves with oil. He felt very self-conscious as he walked over to the nearest bowl of oil. He stood out like a sore thumb. He tried to follow Joni’s advice and enter into the spirit of things.

The oil felt pleasant and he rubbed it carefully into every limb. He sneaked a look at the audience and every pair of eyes was fixed on his body. He gave thanks to Bono, his personal trainer at the Arcadia gym and wellbeing centre, a converted Victorian hotel near to his office at Lincoln’s Inn. The hours spent boxing Bono’s pads and ploughing up and down in the cold water of the columned basement pool had been worth it for this moment. The paunch had gone, his buttocks were firm, and for the first time in his life he had pecs.