Stephanie's Castle

by

Stephanie's
Castle first published in 1992 by Nexus. Published as an eBook in
2012 by Chimera eBooks.

ePub ISBN
9781780801841

mobi ISBN
9781780801858

www.chimerabooks.co.uk

Chimera (
ki-mir'a,
ki-
) a creation of the imagination, a wild
fantasy.

New authors
are always welcome,
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This novel is fiction - in real life
practice safe sex.

This work is sold subject to the condition
that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold,
hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior
written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in
which it is published, and without a similar condition being
imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The author asserts that all
characters depicted in this work of fiction are eighteen years of
age or older, and that all characters and situations are entirely
imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual
happening.

Copyright Susanna Hughes. The right of
Susanna Hughes to be identified as author of this book has been
asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights
Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Stephanie
answered the phone with reluctance. Another minute and she would
have been across the office and on her way home. She was tired. It
had been a long day collating the latest market research on a new
product range and she was desperate to get home, have a long bath
and an early night. But her sense of conscientiousness would not
allow her to walk away leaving the phone to ring.

'Stephanie
Curtis?' The voice was cool, precise and very feminine. It was not
a voice Stephanie recognised.

'Yes?'

'I'm Mr
Devlin's driver. I have the car outside. He wondered if you might
like a lift home.'

Stephanie's
mind was racing. Devlin! She hadn't seen or heard from him for
three months. She couldn't say she'd forgotten him - Devlin was not
a man forgotten easily - but this message came out of the blue. Any
misgivings she might have had were overcome immediately by the
thought of not having to fight her way home on the tube.

'That would be
very nice.'

'I'm parked
outside. You'll recognise the car, won't you?'

She headed
across the open-plan office too wrapped up in her own thoughts to
acknowledge the goodnights of the two girls who remained. Stephanie
had always attracted a lot of attention with the men in the office.
Her long black hair, brandy eyes, fleshy mouth and her trim waist,
complementing her firm breasts and long, lithe legs, made her an
obvious target for male lust and fantasy. It was no surprise, then,
when Dennis Andrews, a founder member of the lust brigade, leered
at her in the lift all the way down the six floors to the
foyer.

'Out on the
raze tonight then, is it?' he drawled.

'No, Dennis.
An early night.'

'I bet. Tucked
up in bed...' He tried to make tuck sound like fuck.

'Give it a
rest, Dennis.'

'You know I'll
do anything you say, Stephanie. Given half a chance.'

'Don't tempt
me.' Meaning she'd like to tell him to jump into a very large vat
of boiling oil.

'Why not? You
tempt me.'

Dennis held
the main entrance door open for her. Parked outside the building on
double yellow lines was a large Mercedes coupé so clean and highly
polished that the building was perfectly reflected in every panel
of the car. Standing by the passenger door was a tall, slim woman
wearing a black suit and white blouse. The skirt of the suit was
short and revealed most of her long, shapely legs. She wore black
high heels, as shiny as the car, which accentuated her pinched
ankles. Her blouse was tight, more like a leotard, and clearly
revealed the outline of her large breasts, flattened slightly by
the material. The suit was clearly meant to be a uniform, but a
very expensive one.

As Stephanie
walked towards the car, and the driver opened the passenger door
for her, she could see it was empty. She had expected Devlin to be
there, sitting in the car waiting for her. His absence made the
invitation even more mysterious.

Dennis Andrews
followed in Stephanie's wake, his mouth wide open. 'Goodnight
then,' he said, perhaps hoping for a lift.

Stephanie got
in without replying. The driver closed the passenger door behind
her and looked at Dennis.

'Goodnight,
sir,' she said, turning to walk around to the driver's door.
Dennis's mouth remained open as the car pulled effortlessly into
the traffic.

'The office
bore,' Stephanie explained.

'There's
always one.' The woman drove precisely, with the minimum of effort.
Stephanie remembered the way the car felt, silent, with not the
slightest vibration - instantly soothing despite the snarling
traffic outside. 'My name's Venetia.' She had obviously been given
Stephanie's address, as she appeared not to be waiting for
directions.

Stephanie
relaxed into the big leather seat of the car, determined to appear
cool. She watched Venetia drive. The skirt of the uniform had
ridden up to display all of her thighs. She was wearing black
tights, very sheer and shiny, and Stephanie could see her muscles
flex in her right leg as it dabbed on the brake pedal or darted to
the accelerator. The left leg remained passive. They were
magnificent legs and Stephanie had to admit that Venetia had the
body and the face to match.

'How long have
you been working for Mr Devlin?'

'A year.'

'Where is
he?'

'I'm not sure.
He phoned and asked me to give you this.' Venetia reached over to
the glove compartment and flicked it open. The light inside
revealed a thick white envelope attached to a stem of orchids.
Stephanie took the orchids out. They were a wonderful combination
of yellow and white with a slash of crimson.

'They're
beautiful.'

'Home
grown.'

'Really?'

'Not by
Devlin. But his gardener's very keen.'

'Must have a
big greenhouse.'

'No, they're
flown in.' She volunteered no further information and Stephanie
didn't ask.

The envelope was not sealed. Inside it was a handwritten note.
'I've been thinking about you, my dear. A lot. Please accept this
invitation.
Devlin
.' Stephanie searched the envelope but there was nothing else
with the card.

'Is that
it?'

'No. The rest
is in the boot.'

'What
rest?'

'You'll see.'
Venetia said it with a smile, her tongue darting between her lips.
There was clearly no point in enquiring further.

The rest of
the journey was spent in silence. The car was so quiet Stephanie
could hear the rasp of nylon against nylon as Venetia moved her
legs to drive the car. Stephanie rested her head on the head
restraint of the seat and closed her eyes. She remembered the night
with Devlin, his huge ugly features, his banana-sized fingers, his
cock, gnarled and veined, so big she had not been able to fit it
all into her cunt. A shiver of pleasure ran through her body as she
thought of him and that night and what he had done to her. She
opened her eyes and looked at Venetia. What was her relationship
with her employer? She could not believe, looking at her as she
drove, that it did not involve sex.

She directed
Venetia to her front door. The power-steering made the parking
easy. Before Stephanie realised what was happening Venetia was out
of the car and opening the passenger door. It gave her a strange
feeling to be waited on like this but it was not a feeling she
disliked.

Venetia opened
the boot of the car. Inside was a large leather suitcase. Stephanie
recognised it from an advert in Harper's - Louis Vuitton, sculpted
leather.

'I'll take it
up for you.' It was not a question. Venetia took the case out of
the boot and followed Stephanie to her front door. The case was
obviously heavy but she carried it without apparent effort even up
the flight of stairs to Stephanie's first-floor flat.

'Now you can
open it.' Inside she lay the case on Stephanie's dining table and
handed her the keys in a little suede pouch. She was obviously
acting under strict instructions.

Stephanie did
not want to appear over anxious. 'Would you like a drink?'

'Yes, some
wine would be nice,' Venetia said without hesitating, almost as
though this were part of the instructions, too.

'Red or white?
The white is better.'

'White then.
May I sit down?'

'Of
course.'

Stephanie went
into the kitchen. Fortunately she always kept a bottle of Chablis
in the fridge. She opened it absent-mindedly, wondering what on
earth Devlin had planned for her.

She handed
Venetia the glass and took a sip from her own. Then she unlocked
the suitcase. Venetia did not look up as Stephanie flipped the lid
back. She knew what was inside or so it appeared.

The case was
full of clothes. On top two swimsuits, one a practical two-piece,
the other a glamorous creation of spangles and lurex that could
never be exposed to water. There were two silk evening dresses, cut
to reveal more than they covered, a day dress of fine cotton, three
pairs of shoes, and a mass of underwear, suspender belts, matching
French knickers, bikini briefs, soft and underwired bras. Three
sets in all, all silk; all in the most perfect taste - classy and
elegant - and all, Stephanie knew, expensive. Everything in the
case was by a top designer, everything the right size, everything
the right style for her.

'Did you
choose these?'

'No, Devlin
always chooses.' Venetia's response begged the question. She
dropped the 'Mister'. And what did she mean by 'always'? He did
this all the time?

'I can't
accept this.'

As she said it
she saw a map tucked into one of the satin pockets of the case. It
was a map of Italy with a thick felt-penned circle around Lake
Trasimeno.

'Devlin wanted
to make sure you have everything you need. It's hot there at this
time of the year.' Under the circle was scrawled in the same
handwriting as the note in the car: 'Friday at six till Monday at
nine.'

'I'm to pick
you up at the office.'

'To go to
Italy for the weekend?' Stephanie knew she had not managed to keep
the incredulity out of her voice.

'In Devlin's
plane. We'll be there by nine, traffic control permitting.'

'I need
another drink.' What Stephanie actually needed was time to think.
She went into the kitchen and closed the door behind her. Venetia
said nothing and remained sitting passively on the sofa.

Stephanie knew
Devlin was rich but she had no idea he had this sort of wealth.
Private planes, suitcases full of clothes that probably cost as
much as she earned in a year; leggy chauffeurs. She knew Devlin had
wanted her sexually but she had not imagined she had made this kind
of an impact on him. Or perhaps she hadn't. Perhaps this was just a
regular event in his life, a rich man's game. Some men collected
cars, or antique furniture: Devlin collected women. Had them
delivered to him on a metaphorical plate.

As this
thought occurred to her Stephanie knew it did not matter. She
didn't mind if she was one of ten, one of a hundred. She felt
flattered, she felt special, and that was quite enough for her. She
also had to admit that sexually the thought of Devlin was
exciting.

She walked
back into the living room. 'I accept,' she said simply, looking
into Venetia's eyes for any reaction.

'Good,' she
said without the slightest flicker of interest. 'Have you been to
this lake?'

'Yes.'

'Sounds
exotic.'

'It's a
castle. Used to belong to one of the Italian noble families. It
even has its own vineyard. Devlin's done a lot of work on it. It's
very comfortable. Very secluded.' Suddenly Venetia smiled. 'Very
thrilling.'

Of course it
was thrilling to be flown to a castle on a lake in Italy but
Stephanie knew at once that was not what Venetia meant. The word
'thrilling' seemed to hang in the air between them. She looked
again at Venetia sitting back on the sofa, calm and confident, her
legs crossed. Venetia met her eyes and for a long moment they
looked at each other. Venetia slowly and deliberately uncrossed her
legs. Stephanie watched as she did so. The black skirt covered
nothing and Stephanie was sure she could see through the sheer
nylon, under the seam that ran up between her legs, a thatch of
pubic hair. Venetia parted her legs slightly as if to give
Stephanie a better view.