Stephanie's Revenge (14 page)

For
half-an-hour she idly unwrapped some of the parcels from her
shopping expedition, but was in no mood to try things on. She hung
them in the wardrobe or stacked them, unwrapped, on the floor.
Tomorrow she would go over everything with Jasmina's help. They
could play with all her new toys.

She dressed
carefully, wanting to resume her relationship with Jasmina just
where it had been left, in a tangle of desire. The teddy she chose
was black, black silk with fine lace at the bust and panels of lace
at each hip. She found a pair of black, sheer, hold-up stockings,
with a band of black lace holding them in place on her thigh. The
stockings were much higher than usual, the lace welt reaching
almost to the feathers of pubic hair from the lush growth between
her legs.

The dress she
wore was red: the bodice a single slash of ruckled organza from
shoulder to waist, in contrast to the absolutely plain A-line skirt
which reached to just above her knee. It was not too obvious. Not
too vampy. If Jasmina's enthusiasm had started to wane she didn't
want to suggest she was the wicked witch of the sex castle waiting
to draw her into the lair.

Downstairs,
Stephanie had the servants lay a table for two at one end of the
enormous plate-glass dining table that could actually seat twenty
or more people. The fire in the wide, gothic-style fireplace had
already been lit. Even in the height of summer the evenings were
always chill in this part of the castle, the sun not penetrating
the thick stone walls.

Remembering
what had been said in Rome, and imagining that after dinner they
might not get as far as the bedroom, Stephanie had tried to think
of everything. She tucked the little black velvet bag out of sight
by the side of the hearth.

The powerboat
had gone out at seven. The chauffeur had rung from the Rolls to say
they would be at the jetty by seven-thirty, and that they had been
delayed by the torrential rain. Stephanie sat by the fire gazing
into the flames, the foreboding she had felt displaced, though not
replaced, by her growing sense of excitement.

It was eight
o'clock before she heard the powerboat's engines. She went into the
hall and called for a servant to bring a golfing umbrella, taking
one herself before heading down to the jetty. The stone steps were
slippery in the wet. The rain was heavy again now, the calm lake
boiling with tiny ripples as the raindrops poured down.

Jasmina sat
next to the boatman, crunched up under the small canopy of the
boat. The boat was not designed for wet weather. Skilfully, the
boat was manoeuvred alongside the jetty. As soon as it was secured
fore and aft, the servant jumped aboard with the umbrella and
sheltered Jasmina as she came ashore. Stephanie held out her hand
to help her.

'You made
it.'

'Mais oui. It
is terrible. Il tombe des cordes.'

'Translate.'

'It rains, you
say cats and dogs.'

'Come on,
there's a fire inside. Mind the steps, they're very slippery.'

Jasmina was
wearing a grey, snake-skin pattern leotard and a short black skirt.
Her legs were bare. She wore a man's hat, a large black fedora that
suited the bold outlines of her face. Stephanie watched her long
legs pick their way up the steps. The servant followed with her
small weekend case.

They dashed
across the courtyard in front of the castle doors which Stephanie
had left open.

'Wow!' Jasmina
said, looking around. 'It is beautiful!'

'Come through
here. Or do you want to change?'

'No.'

Jasmina took
off the hat. Her short black hair emphasised her long, elegant
neck. Here eyes were smiling as was her mouth.

'D'abord,' she
said, then translated, 'first.'

She moved
close to Stephanie, hooked her hand around the back of her neck and
pulled her into a kiss. She kissed hard, wrapping her other arm
around Stephanie and hugging her hard too.

'So now you
know,' she said. 'I have not changed my mind.'

'You certainly
haven't,' Stephanie said.

They walked
through to the fireplace hand in hand. Jasmina asked for a Scotch,
neat and Stephanie decided to have the same. They clinked the big
crystal tumblers.

'To us.'

'Oui. To us
both.'

Jasmina's eyes
sparkled in the firelight. Stephanie felt a surge of raw desire.
The woman was more beautiful than she remembered. It was not only
the way she looked. She had a natural grace and elegance, an
economy of movement that made even a small inclination of the head
seem like a ballet motion. Stephanie put out her hand to touch
Jasmina's cheek as if wanting to reassure herself that she was
real. Immediately Jasmina put her own hand on Stephanie's, holding
it to her cheek, then she moved her head and pressed the palm of
Stephanie's hand to her lips. It seemed like a long time before she
let Stephanie's hand fall.

The servant announced that dinner was ready. Stephanie led
Jasmina to the table. A broccoli soup was welcome against the chill
of the rain, and the sea bass that followed was grilled with
fennel. They drank Frascati from a vineyard not more than sixty
miles away. There was fruit and an almond cake and a plate of
tiny
dolci
.

Jasmina ate
voraciously, constantly finding things in the room to comment on:
the huge flower arrangement in the centre of the table, the gothic
wood-carvings decorating the fireplace, the modern rugs strewn over
the marble floor.

She
continually broke into French. 'Je peux... Pardon. I speak to
someone who is not Italian and it makes me want to speak
French.'

'You speak
Italian too?'

'Yes. And
Spanish. I seem to have an ability with language. I am not fluent
in all, but enough to get by, I think.'

'Your English
is good.'

'I will get
better. There are many things I would like to ask you, that I have
thought...'

'Ask
away.'

'I looked up
the word in my dictionary. You are lesbian?'

Stephanie
laughed at her directness. 'No.'

'But—'

'I like men
too. I like men a lot. But recently I've discovered that I like
women.'

'Me too, I
think. This is very new for me.'

'Jasmina,'
Stephanie considered her words carefully, 'this castle can offer
many experiences, new experiences, if that's what you want.'

'I think it
is.'

'You are very
beautiful.'

'Stephanie.'
Jasmina pronounced it in French, emphasising each syllable equally,
ste/phan/ie. It sounded so sexy. 'What you did to me. So suddenly,
so unexpected. You make me quiver, tremble. You understand?'

'It's what you
make me feel, too.'

'How can this
be? You are so experienced.'

'You are very
exciting.'

'I want to
learn, Stephanie. Everything. You will teach me?'

'If that's
what you want.'

'Oh yes.'

They drank
coffee by the fire. The storm had abated slightly during the
dinner, but now appeared to have circled back over the lake. The
forks of lightning and cracks of thunder were, if anything, more
violent than before.

They decided
to leave the guided tour of the castle until the morning. If
Jasmina wanted to know everything, Stephanie would certainly take
her into the cellars, but not tonight.

'So how does a
black, French girl come to be working in Rome?' Stephanie asked,
genuinely curious.

'I was born in
Chad. It was, I think you say, the arsehole of the world. I had not
family. They put me in, in...'

'An
orphanage?'

'Yes. A French
missionary, he helped me. I worked for him. Then, when he went back
to France, he took me with him. Back to Angouleme. There I was like
a side-show. The first black they had seen. The man was kind to me.
I was very young. But as I grew up he changed. His wife died. Just
the two of us left in the house. Alone together, it was not good.
So I went to Paris. Then I went around Europe. Amsterdam. Munich.
Madrid. I learn languages. I work in all kinds of places. I learn
many things. I come to Rome. I get this job as a model—'

'Have you been
to London?'

'No. London
next.'

Jasmina put
down her coffee. They had been sitting on chairs opposite each
other in front of the fireplace. Jasmina slid to her knees on the
thick rug in front of Stephanie and looked up at her.

'No more
talking. I want to make love. I want you. You know what I am
saying?'

'Yes.'

'You can do
what you want with me. Anything you want.'

Stephanie felt
a surge of desire. Jasmina had a directness that was disarming.

They kissed, a
long, inquisitive kiss, Jasmina's head tilted backward, her throat
one long stretch of dark, sinewy flesh. Stephanie felt her heart
racing, her whole body alive with anticipation. Jasmina was so
open, so willing, so fresh, like the pages of a diary waiting to be
written on. She seemed to have no inhibitions, no taboos. She
wanted only to learn. She had no idea what her limits were, where
she would draw the line. She wanted only to discover the new world
Stephanie had transported her to.

Stephanie
broke the kiss. 'Shall we go upstairs?'

'Non,' Jasmina
said. 'Ici. By the fire.'

'I thought you
might say that.'

Stephanie
stood up. She ran her fingers into Jasmina's short curls and
pressed her head into her lap.

'I feel your
heat.'

Stephanie did
not move, savouring the anticipation. Then she stepped away and
pulled the red dress off over her head.

'Oh, so sexy,'
Jasmina said, looking at the black teddy, its lace panels
tantalising in what they revealed, the black hold-ups making
Stephanie's legs seem even longer, the thin band of naked thigh
between the lacy tops of the stocking and the silk teddy, a magnet
for the eye.

Stephanie had
left her hair loose. She shook her head to straighten it again, the
hair streaming down her back.

'Take your
skirt off.' A note of command crept into her voice. Still kneeling,
Jasmina unzipped the garment and let it fall to her knees. She
rocked back to sit on her bottom and kicked the skirt away.

'Now lie on
your back.'

Jasmina obeyed
again. The rug in front of the fire was thick cream wool, its pile
so deep a whole hand could disappear into it. Jasmina lay on it,
one leg flat, one leg bent at the knee. She began to massage her
right breast with her left hand under the leotard. In this prone
position her breasts were no more than the faintest swelling on her
chest but her nipples, Stephanie could see, were already fat and
swollen like the knobs of a cupboard door.

'Come.'
Jasmina held out her hand. 'Please...'

Stephanie took
three steps forward until she was standing over Jasmina, the toe of
her red high heel shoe grazing her waist. Jasmina caressed her slim
ankle, feeling the sheer nylon, looking up her stockinged legs. She
could see where the silk of the teddy was stretched by Stephanie's
pubic bone, where it curved down between her thighs; she could see
the mass of thick black curly hair escaping from underneath the
tight silk.

'Please...'
Jasmina said again, arching her back off the floor, the evidence of
her eyes fuelling her lust.

Stephanie
knelt at her feet. She took Jasmina's calves in her hands and
parted them, moving forward until she knelt between her open legs.
Reaching forward she cupped the full curve of Jasmina's pubis in
her hand, feeling its heat. Jasmina whimpered at her touch.
Stephanie found the three fasteners that held the crotch of the
leotard in place and worked each open in turn, having to press each
popper hard into Jasmina's soft labia to get it undone. As soon as
the last was free the material sprang back, Jasmina's cunt lips
blatantly revealed. Against the chocolate brown of her skin her
cunt appeared pink, like the centre of some exotic fruit. It was
glistening too, wet with her own juices.

'Now it's my
turn,' Stephanie said.

She dipped her
head down to the pink, moist fruit. It was no more pink than her
own sex, but the dark thighs and belly made it look much more so,
made it look somehow more exposed, more precious, more virginal.
Stephanie licked it first, like a child licking an ice cream, long
wet licks with the whole breadth of her tongue, relishing the taste
of Jasmina's juices.

'Mon dieu...'
Jasmina sighed.

Stephanie's
tongue worked up the whole length of her sex, from the little
rosette of her arse to the very top of her clitoris. Jasmina had
never had a woman do this to her, never felt the roughness of a
woman's tongue and the softness of her cheeks on her thighs. It was
making her come, an orgasm so sharp and sudden she could not help
herself from screaming and scissoring her legs together to catch
Stephanie's head, clamping it fast to her sex.

Stephanie
could feel her come. She felt her sex contract. She felt a rush of
juices, like a man spunking, in her mouth.

Jasmina's
thighs relaxed, allowing Stephanie's head to move again. But
Stephanie had no intention of leaving it at that. This time she
concentrated on Jasmina's clitoris, nudging it with the tip of her
tongue, drawing little circles around it. As she did she reached
out with her hand to the black velvet bag she had hidden at the
corner of the hearth. Without losing contact with Jasmina's sex she
managed to snag the velvet with the tips of her fingers, pulling it
towards her across the thick rug.

Jasmina's eyes
were closed; she did not see what Stephanie was doing. She was too
busy coping with the sensations from her body.

As Stephanie
played with the engorged clitoris, using her tongue to manipulate
it from side to side now, rhythmically, and feeling Jasmina's body
respond with the same beat, she groped inside the bag and drew out
the dildo.