The Ninety Days of Genevieve (17 page)

'It won't be for long,' he said. 'It gives us a chance to talk about about next year's charitable work.'

Left on her own Genevieve went back into the ballroom. The band was playing softly. Guests who obviously knew each other were forming into chattering groups.

'Hallo.' Startled, Genevieve turned and found herself facing the woman who had been smiling at her at the dining table. 'Are you at a loose end too?'

'A bit/ she admitted. 'I don't really know anyone here.'

'Neither do 1/ the other woman said. 'I came to oblige a friend. He needed a partner at short notice. I'm Bridget.'

Genevieve introduced herself. Bridget looked round, rather like an unenthusiastic princess surveying her subjects. 'I'm sure all these old dears are terribly worthy/ she said, "but most of them are also terribly boring. Why don't you come up to my room? We'll relax and have a drink and watch TV or something.'

It was better than standing in the ballroom like a wallflower, Genevieve thought. She followed Bridget up the wide stairs to the first floor, glancing slyly at a familiar chair as she walked past.

Bridget's room was very similar to the one she had already seen. Although there was a double bed she could not see any evidence that Bridget was sharing with her friend. Once in the room Bridget lost her haughty manner. She opened a cupboard and took out some bottles. 'Let me mix you something.'

Genevieve accepted the drink. It was potent, and made her feel light-headed. Bridget came and sat beside her, and refilled her glass. They chatted casually. Then

Bridget reached out and touched the diamond choker. 'That's beautiful.'

'Fake,' Genevieve said. 'And on loan.'

'Can I try it on?'

Genevieve nodded. She fumbled with the clasp and safety catch.

'Here,' Bridget leaned forward, 'let me.' She smelled enticingly of an expensive perfume. At close quarters her skin was flawless. She undid the choker expertly and held it round her neck. 'It doesn't suit my dress,' she decided.

Genevieve agreed. Bridget's gown was prudishly high necked. 'You need one like mine. Off the shoulder style.' She hiccupped suddenly and giggled. 'You've put something in my drink.'

'I have not.' Bridget sounded offended. 'Come on now, let me see what I'd look like in the choker and your dress.'

Well, why not? Genevieve felt in an obliging mood. She stood up. The bracelet clasp was easier than the choker. She removed it and dangled it in front of Bridget, finally dropping it in her lap. She began to peel off her gloves, slowly.

Bridget found a remote control and suddenly the room was filled with a rhythmic slow beat. 'Let's do it properly,' Bridget laughed. 'D'you think you'd make a good stripper?'

'You tell me,' Genevieve invited.

She had never stripped to music before, and normally she would have been embarrassed to try. But now she felt confident and relaxed. She let the music talk to her and it affected her in a surprising way. She felt sexy and liberated. She reached for the back zip and pulled it down. The dress opened, falling to her waist. Genevieve put her hands over her breasts in mock modesty but the movements of her hips, gyrating to the drum beat, sent the dress slithering to the floor. Stepping out of it, she waited for an appropriate moment in the music to hand it, with a flourish, to Bridget. The music stopped, almost on cue.

'Well?' she asked. 'Have I passed the audition?'

'Let's say, you're promising.' Bridget stood up. 'But much too fast. If you had a male audience you'd have finished before most of them had a chance to get a hard-on. You've got to tease. Wind them up, make them wait. And never stand still. You could have done something better with the gloves, too. A good stripper will make everything she takes off sexy. She doesn't need any of that crude stuff with snakes or bananas to turn her audience on.'

Genevieve was not sure whether to be annoyed or amused that Bridget was taking her performance seriously.

'All right, expert/ she challenged. 'Show me.'

Bridget pressed the remote control again. The music that came out of the speakers this time was harder and more insistent, a real stripper's beat. It seemed so appropriate that Genevieve wondered if Bridget had prepared the tape in advance.

And Bridget was a sensation as a stripper. Genevieve could not believe that this was the same haughty beauty she had smiled at across the dining table earlier that evening. Dancing with professional grace, Bridget made every move erotic. She removed her dress as if she was making love to it. She strutted in her dark-blue lacy underwear. She rolled her stockings down to her knees.

Genevieve felt her own body moving in time to the beat, and her feet tapping. The thought of watching another woman undress had never excited her before, but now she felt a distinct tension waiting for each item to be removed and tossed away. She realised how a man must feel, wanting to both prolong and end the teasing.

Bridget's naked breasts were firm and round and, Genevieve thought surprising herself, really rather attractive. Standing close to Genevieve's chair, Bridget worked on her panties. She turned her back and began to rotate her hips suggestively, pushing the flimsy lace garment down to her knees, stepping out of one leg, then the other, tossing the panties into the air on cue to a crash of cymbals. Naked except for her rolled down stockings and high heeled shoes she reached out to Genevieve. 'Come on, darling, show me what you've learned. Dance with me.'

It was then that Genevieve knew she could say no and leave, and that would be that. If she stayed, she was committed. She would experience what would be for her an entirely new way of sex. Did she want to stay? Bridget was still swaying in front of her, smiling - her rounded body an unknown territory, but not a threatening one.

Yes, Genevieve decided, she wanted to know what it was like to feel those smooth curves, to know how a man felt when he caressed a woman. To know how James Sinclair felt when his hands explored her. She stood up and began to move to the music, closer to Bridget. They were together and yet separate, deliberately avoiding contact to begin with until Bridget put her hands on Genevieve's shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed her full on the lips.

It was a long kiss and it left them both a little breathless. Their bodies were touching now, in unexpected places. Genevieve felt Bridget's hard nipples brushing her skin. Felt her own touch Bridget. Bridget's mouth moved lightly over Genevieve's neck and travelled downwards. The music stopped.

'Let's make love,' Bridget said softly.

She bent down and picked up the remote control, and a different kind of music flowed from the speakers, gentle chords and a dreamy saxophone. Genevieve thought it was too convenient to be accidental.

'You planned this,' she accused, smiling.

'Well, sort of,' Bridget admitted. 'You never know if you're going to meet someone you like. Do you mind?'

'I've never been seduced by a woman before.'

'There's a first time for everything,' Bridget said. 'And this is yours, darling.'

Stretched out langourously on the bed, Genevieve kicked off her shoes. Bridget's fingers hooked under the elastic top of her knickers, gently slid them down and tossed them on the floor.

'Oh,' Bridget murmured, 'you shave. That's nice. I like that.'

Her mouth traced lingering patterns from Genevieve's neck to her breasts, drawing circles round the hardening peaks with the tip of her tongue. Genevieve felt warm tremors of pleasure course through her.

Bridget worked slowly on her body, seeking out all the special places that women know but men often can't be bothered to discover, licking and stroking unhurriedly, watching Genevieve for indications of sexual excitement. If Genevieve moaned or sighed Bridget lingered there. She seemed content to give pleasure rather than receive it.

But Genevieve also wanted to give, and the gradual arousal of her body was making it difficult for her to simply stay passive. She reached out and found the softness of Bridget's breasts. Giving in to an uncontrolled urge she fastened her mouth on a nipple and sucked gently, coaxing the pink tip into an even harder peak with light flicking movements of her tongue. Bridget groaned deep in her throat, offering herself to Genevieve, and Genevieve surprised herself by responding fully to the invitation.

They explored each other in an uninhibited orgy of sensation. Genevieve revelled in discovering new erotic pathways on Bridget's supple body, delighted in the small noises she drew from the other woman, shivered with delight as Bridget's mouth and fingers traced patterns over her own skin. Then Bridget's hand stroked gently between her legs.

'Darling,' Bridget murmered, 'you're so wet.'

She slid downward and suddenly Genevieve felt a warm tongue lapping her with soft caresses. The effect was instant. Bridget knew exactly how to tease her clitoris into full erection, how to prolong the intense agony of pleasure, and how finally to release it.

Genevieve's back arched as the delicious spasms of her orgasm shook her, mounting to a climax and then subsiding gently.

She lay on the bed for a moment, recovering, feeling that she should offer Bridget the same pleasure, but for a hesitant moment she wondered whether she could actually use her mouth on another woman. She had never had any reservations about performing this service on a man. In fact the way she felt now she could have cheerfully taken James Sinclair's penis in her mouth and given it the full treatment, forcing him to the brink of release and then torturing him by refusing to oblige. She wondered how long he could control himself then, how long it would be before he groaned for relief. The thought excited her. Her encounter with Bridget had made her feel incredibly sexy.

Then she realised that Bridget had taken matters into her own hands, literally. With her eyes closed and her face tense with delight, Bridget brought herself to a manual climax that seemed every bit as satisfying and tumultuous as Genevieve's own. Opening her eyes again she smiled at Genevieve. 'Sorry, darling. Couldn't wait.'

They lay for another ten minutes in sleepy companionship, then Bridget sat up. 'We can't stay here forever. Duty calls. I'm going to have a shower, unless you want one first? You can use any of my things. Try the body spray, it's gorgeous.'

Showered and dressed, Bridget became once again a glacial and haughty beauty. She helped Genevieve zip up her dress and fix the diamond choker round her neck.

'Playtime's over,' she said. 'Let's go and find the men.'

Genevieve found James Sinclair quicker than she expected. He was waiting in the corridor, smoking a thin cheroot. Bridget looked at him archly.

'Not dancing, Mr Sinclair?'

'You've got my partner,' he said.

'Not any more,' Bridget replied.

Sinclair smiled slowly. 'Playtime's over, is it?' he drawled, from behind a blue curtain of smoke.

'For now/ Bridget said. She smiled at Genevieve: 'Maybe we'll get together again sometime, darling?'

She swept regally down the corridor. It took a minute for Genevieve to realise what the brief conversation implied.

'You bastard!' She turned on Sinclair, furiously. 'You've been watching us.'

'Well, of course/ he said. 'Didn't you guess?'

'No, I didn't.' She knew now that she should have. No wonder Bridget's hi-fi played such appropriate music.

'When I pay for something I expect to get full value.' He paused. 'And Bridget doesn't come cheap.'

'Do you mean she's a - well - a professional?' Genevieve stumbled over her words, more from disbelief than embarrassment.

'A whore?' Sinclair smiled. 'But of course. And a very expensive one. She used to be a dancer, Royal Ballet I believe, but the pay was terrible, so she took up stripping. Then she found that selling sex was a good way to make a lot of money fast. She won't be doing it for much longer, though. When she's saved enough she's going to open a riding school.'

'What kind of a hotel is this?' Genevieve demanded. 'Are there two-way mirrors in all the rooms?'

'Not in any of them/ he said. 'There are other, less obvious ways of accommodating voyeurs. This is a Victorian hotel. The Victorians were quite subtle about their spy holes.' He drew on the cheroot and blew a cloud of pale smoke into the air. 'I hope you remember those tips Bridget gave you about stripping. That wasn't just for fun. I like to get full value on my investments. Practise at home. You're going to give me a private performance before too long, and I expect it to be good.' He stubbed out the cheroot in an ashtray. 'Come on, let's try a different kind of dancing.'

She enjoyed the rest of the evening, its formality contrasting strangely with the sexual adventures she had participated in, but at the back of her mind anger was smouldering. She was not worried about Bridget. A professional of her standing would certainly be discreet, but Sinclair had put her in a dangerous position in the corridor. If anyone had seen her and recognised her the publicity could have ruined her. He had broken the rules of their contract. She was determined to have it out with him.

The last waltz finally came and went and Sinclair guided her off the dance floor. Genevieve saw the stately Margaret coming towards them. Her blue eyes were bright and enquiring.

'Did you enjoy yourself, my dear?'