The Ninety Days of Genevieve (15 page)

The young man shrugged and walked quickly away. The woman smiled at Genevieve. 'They can't handle it, can they? If you don't look like their ideal woman they just don't know how to react. Tess has won lots of competitions. She wants to compete in America. They really appreciate women's body building over there. And you can win big money, too. Do you do weight training?'

'No,' Genevieve said.

The woman glanced at Genevieve's sports bag and the protruding handle of her squash racket. 'It would improve your game.'

'I just don't have the time/ Genevieve said.

She had been looking round the weights-room while she was talking. The two body builders had stopped working out. One of them posed in front of the mirror, flexing and twisting, while the other watched critically. A woman on the lat machine stopped her work out, paused for a moment and then got up and walked over to them. Something about the imperious way that she moved made Genevieve look at her more closely. She realised with a shock that it was Jade Chalfont.

With her glossy hair tied back and her body covered by a dark cat-suit she looked lithe and fit. She started to chat to one of the body builders. As Genevieve watched, Jade Chalfont threw back her head and laughed. The sound made other women in the room look up with curiosity.

That's right, Genevieve thought cattily, make sure you're the centre of attention. She had to admit that the woman looked good in the figure-hugging suit. It was made from shiny black Lycra and reminded Genevieve of one Georgie's leather outfits, although it lacked the sexy appeal of Georgie's well-placed zips.

Would Jade Chalfont wear an outfit like that? Genevieve looked at her again. She had the body of an athlete, shoulders broader than normal tapering to a narrow waist, and quite small breasts. Genevieve could not help wondering if this was the kind of figure that appealed to James Sinclair. It was more angular, and harder, than her own. Squash had made Genevieve strong, but she had never lost her rounded curves. Jade was built more like a boy. Maybe Sinclair found androgyny some kind of turn-on. She had a sudden and unwanted image of Jade Chalfont on her hands and knees as Sinclair entered her from the rear. The picture conjured up a memory of her own session with the vibrator, and its partial entry. Was that what he really liked? She had a feeling that it was not. She felt certain that he had performed that particular trick mainly to please Zaid.

She looked at Jade again. She seemed such a dominant type, Genevieve found it difficult to believe she would let any man give her orders, in bed or out. But she knew that appearances could be deceptive. How many people looking at her in her business suit, coolly elegant, would believe that she would not only submit to, but thoroughly enjoy, the kind of sex games Sinclair had initiated her into? She hardly believed it herself.

Jade Chalfont was still chatting to the body builders and as Genevieve watched she reached out and traced long fingers down one of the women's legs. The woman bent the leg and the muscle stood out. Jade nodded appreciatively.

'See the one with the black hair?' The woman was still standing next to Genevieve. 'She does some kind of martial arts thing with a sword.'

'Kendo,' Genevieve said, absently. She thought Jade seemed to be running her hands over the female body builder's muscles rather more than was necessary.

'Something like that,' the woman nodded. 'I'm not into martial arts. All that yelling puts me off. Aerobics and swimming are enough for me.'

Not wanting to be recognised, Genevieve backed away from the weights-room door, smiled goodbye to the woman she had been talking to and walked quickly down the corridor towards the exit.

She was annoyed to discover that she could not get the image of Jade Chalfont out of her mind. There was a hard edge about her that she realised could be seen as both sexually attractive and challenging to many men. She gave the impression that she would enjoy a fight, too. Did she see Sinclair as a trophy to be won, both on a personal level and for Lucci's?

Up until then Genevieve had felt fairly sure of herself. But now doubts were beginning to creep in. She suspected that Jade Chalfont was her equal in ambition. She felt certain that Jade would have accepted any kind of sexual contract that Sinclair offered her. Had he offered her one? Was he playing with both of them for reasons of his own? Because he wanted Randle-Mayne to come to him cap in hand and ask to settle their differences? Sinclair's account was worth a great deal of money. If a large agency like Randle-Mayne lost him, it would not look good at their next shareholders' meeting.

Or was Jade Chalfont simply another challenge for Sinclair? Another chance to discover just what she would do to achieve her ends? To advance her career? A chance for him to discover how easy it would be to control her? Was James Sinclair just an erotic adventurer using women as pawns in his fantasies? Could she really trust him to keep his word? She was not sure.

But here was one thing she could be sure of: if she backed out now, she would never know.

Genevieve was watching a video when the phone rang. She had recorded this particular programme several weeks before and had been looking forward to watching it. It was a potted history of popular music, with clips from original recordings, but as the pictures flickered hypnotically and the sound track evoked memories of songs she had liked when she was at school, she had slipped into a far more interesting fantasy in which she imagined a naked Sinclair tied to the Victorian green leather couch. She would manipulate the levers to arrange him in a series of interesting positions, and then question him about his relationship with Jade Chalfont. Any answers she did not like would result in his legs being pushed even further apart. And then, she thought seductively, maybe I'd use a vibrator until he begged
me
for relief.

It was a pleasant fantasy and she was not too pleased when the phone buzzer interrupted it. And even less pleased when she heard her brother's voice. She reluctantly banished her mental picture of Sinclair's tanned body and the impressive erection she had already decided he would be experiencing after just a brief session with the vibrator.

'Hi, big sister,' Philip's voice sounded cheerfully in her ear. 'Hope I haven't interrupted anything?

Genevieve switched the video off.

'What was that background music?' Philip enquired. 'Didn't sound like your thing, sis.'

'A video,' she said.

'Thought you might be having a party.' He laughed to show her that he didn't think anything of the sort and for some reason Genevieve found his assumption annoying. There was a ten-year difference in their ages, but that didn't mean she was too old, or too stuffy, to know how to enjoy herself.

'Why shouldn't I be having a party?' she asked, more sharply than she intended.

'Hey, don't bite my head off,' Philip said. 'You never have parties. Too busy working, that's what you always say.'

Genevieve had to admit that he was right. Her social life had suffered because of work.

'I just thought I'd tell you that I took your advice,' Philip added. 'And it worked.'

For a moment she could not remember what she had told him.

'In fact,' Philip went on, 'I sat down with Jan, my new girlfriend, and spelled out exactly what I wanted. We both agreed that being tied up wasn't really politically incorrect as long as I respected her and only used scarves and things, and not chains. She wasn't over-enthusiastic, but she feels that equality works both ways. If I respect her wishes she'll respect mine. She's pretty broad-minded. We decided that I could do it twice a week, maximum.'

There was a long pause while Genevieve digested this. 'Well,' she said at last, 'that's fine. I'm happy for you both. Did you put it in writing and both sign?'

This time the pause was on Philip's end of the phone. 'You're taking the piss, big sister. I thought you'd approve.'

'Oh, for God's sake!' Genevieve said. 'It's so coldblooded. You'll be telling me next you've drawn her a diagram.'

'Excuse me if I've got it wrong/ Philip said, 'but you were the one who told me to make sure my next girlfriend knew exactly what I wanted.'

'I didn't expect you to turn it into a business arrangement/ Genevieve said. 'I meant you to sort of suggest things romantically.'

'Don't be so old fashioned, sis. What has romance got to do with it?'

'You're in love with this girl, aren't you?' Genevieve asked.

'Of course not/ Philip said. 'I don't want to get emotionally involved until I've finished college and seen a bit of life. I fancy her, that's all. And before you start on me again, I've explained that to her as well. I've been completely honest. I want sex, and I'm willing to buy her drinks and so on, but that's all.' He paused and then added, 'We have relationships without all that lovey-dovey stuff these days, you know? Modern women actually prefer it. Sorry if it shocks you, but this is the 1990s.'

Did it shock her? she wondered. And if so, why? Was it only because she really could not accept that Philip had grown up? She still saw him as her little kid brother. It was difficult to accept that he was now a young male with sexual needs. Was his arrangement with his girlfriend really very different from hers with James Sinclair?

Suddenly she felt like giggling. Whatever would Philip think if he found out the details of her recent erotic adventures? Dear politically correct Phil, who thought scarves were all right but chains were kinky. Thought you'd shocked me, did you? She stretched out her legs, tensed them, then relaxed, remembering. You don't know me at all, little brother. And perhaps it's just as well.

And how well did Sinclair know her, she thought, lazily sinking back in her chair and recovering her previous mental picture of him helpless on the green leather couch. What would he think if he could share that fantasy? Would he be excited? Horrified? Angry? She realised that she did not know. She knew so little about him.

She was not even really sure if he would keep the unorthodox agreement they had made. She could hardly take legal action against him if he backed out. This whole thing could be his idea of a rather unkind joke. An exercise in personal power. She would not know the truth until the ninety days had ended.

When the phone rang early on Wednesday morning she picked it up with a sense of expectancy, guessing that it was Sinclair. He surprised her by asking how she was, and she suspected that he was phoning from a more public place than usual.

'Are you free this Saturday evening?'

That surprised her even more. 'You're
asking
me?'

'I certainly am. I'd forgotten about this invitation to the Fennington and I really need a partner. It's an annual do, and if I turn up on my own I'm going to get collared by some terrible old harridan or the resident bore.' He paused. 'If you come with me I can promise you a really splendid dinner, and a rather traditional dance.'

'Well, all right,' she agreed, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. A dinner in the Fennington Hotel? How could she refuse? They had a reputation for expensive excellence.

'It's very formal,' he added. 'You're expected to glitter. Diamonds would be nice.'

'I haven't got anything very formal,' she said. 'Just the usual little black dress. And I haven't got any diamonds either.'

'I'll arrange something,' he offered. 'I'm rather good at choosing clothes. Maybe you noticed?

'If you think I'm going to turn up at the Fennington wearing a leather miniskirt and a plunge-neck blouse, you can think again,' she said coolly. 'Agreement or not, that is definitely
out.'

He laughed. "Don't worry. If you don't like my choice you can buy something else, at my expense. Expect a delivery tomorrow evening.'

It sounded absolutely genuine, but she knew Sinclair better by now, and the first thing she did was check with the hotel. She was amazed when they confirmed Sinclair's story. They were booked for the annual dinner and dance of the Grand Order of the Knights of the Banner. Invitation only. A few more enquires confirmed that the Knights were a well-established charitable Order and had been discreetly doing good for over a hundred years.

When the promised clothes arrived they provided further confirmation that this invitation was genuine. The dress was a classically tailored, off the shoulder design in heavy, dark-green satin with a long, hidden zip down the back. It reminded her of the gowns worn by film stars in the twenties, and although the skirt reached her ankles and the neckline was hardly deep, she wondered if some of the ancient and venerable Knights of the Banner would find it daringly modern. It hugged her figure, but not tightly enough to look tarty or display the lines of her underwear. She did not own a strapless bra but the boned front of the dress made it unnecessary. Sinclair had also sent her matching gloves, green silk-covered shoes with respectable heels, and a pair of silk camiknickers. There were no stockings. She thought the knickers were a nice touch, in keeping with the period style of the dress.

A small box came by another courier. It contained a heavy diamond choker and matching bracelet. They glittered convincingly but she knew they had to be fakes. If they were genuine she was holding a fortune in her hands. The five-stranded choker made her hold up her head in an imperious, slightly uncomfortable, position. The wide bracelet, worn over her glove, felt like a manacle. But, she thought, I'll certainly glitter.