Those Wicked Pleasures (18 page)

‘I don’t need David to protect me. Maybe you haven’t noticed I’m a big girl now. All grown up.’

‘Oh, I’ve noticed.’

Bob Flanders, Lara’s latest affair, interrupted them. He was one of her on-again, off-again men. His surprise at seeing her there was evident enough for Lara to conclude that her presence would quell all rumours about some secret rift between Jamal and her – the object, after all, of her being there. Bob was a fun guy, and she happily went off with him to join some of her other friends.

Jamal watched her skirt divide, exposing the long
luscious limbs and provocative walk. He was crazed with desire for her. Julia caught the look in his eye and knew at once there was something between Jamal and Lara, some dark secret so deep that her friend had not been able to confide it even to her. Julia could feel the intensity in Jamal, the heat of his passion for her friend. And there had been something Julia had glimpsed in Lara’s eyes when Jamal had touched her, when he spoke to her, that she had never seen before. She was quite shocked, concerned, because she sensed more than passion, something deeply sinister in the sexual electricity that passed between Jamal and her friend.

A gaze between Julia and Jamal, and he knew that she had guessed. He gave nothing away. Instead he turned his attention on her, unleashing his charm.

‘Julia, I have never seen you looking sexier.’ He kissed her gently on the lips. They had known each other for a very long time. He had watched her grow up, just as he had done Lara. She knew he didn’t want her, no matter how pretty and sexy she looked. Not really want her the way he wanted Lara. She didn’t have that something special deep inside her that Lara had, that men lusted after. That something she had never wanted to investigate too deeply in her best friend. She was thinking about that now. She was surprised by Jamal’s caress of her naked breast under the see-through, black silk. Before she could react, he quickly bent his head to her breast and kissed the nipple. A shiver of delight, and Julia backed a pace away from Jamal. He gave her a raunchy laugh.

‘Surprised? Don’t be. I won’t be the only man who will take liberties with you tonight.’ He placed an arm around her, caressed her naked back and whispered in her ear, ‘I won’t do it again. Not unless you ask me to. That’s my secret, I only like to take women who want me.’

He plucked one of the delicacies from a passing tray and fed it to her. Julia watched him. He had eyes only for Lara. Julia tugged at his arm and he looked at her. She told him, ‘Great party. Don’t spoil it for us, will you?’

He laughed at her. ‘Spoil it? Hardly. Come with me. The way you girls look tonight, nothing can spoil this evening for you. I predict you will both go home happier than you have been for a very long time, and with the man of your choosing. Or maybe you won’t go home at all. It’s that kind of party. Full of surprises – even for me, it seems. Come with me.’ He grabbed her by the hand and was leading her to the far side of the room.

‘Don’t do this, Jamal.’

‘Don’t be childish. I might be doing you the best turn of your life. Be brave, it’s about time you made a grab for what
you
want, Julia.’

Chapter 13

The atmosphere at Jamal’s effervescent party was electric, bright, buzzy, filled with gaiety. Lara, who had dropped her guard hours before, had danced and flirted. She found the party charged with sensual energy, and that suited her. She felt uplifted, as everyone else seemed to be. She drank without moderation, and did more drugs than she had ever done before. But at a party such as this it was the norm, as natural as breathing. Her happiness seemed boundless, and she allowed herself to be worn down by Jamal’s advances.

He found her between two men who were making overtures to her. ‘Not tonight, boys. You’ve been out-flanked by the host.’ He attempted to whisk her away. She held back.

‘Anything, anything you want.’

‘Anything?’ She wanted reassurance.

‘That’s what I said.’

‘Can you give me love?’

‘Love? Oh, yes, and much more.’

She believed him. His intent, anyway. She was tired of flight from sexual bliss with Jamal and allowed herself to be discreetly swept away by him to his bedroom. Once in his room, memories of their first night together flooded back. How passionately in love with him she had been. How anxious she had been to give herself to him. How cruelly tantalising he had been: he had known how desperately she had wanted him.

On entering the bedroom, Lara was more overcome with emotion than she expected to be. She disengaged herself from Jamal. Outside, across the East River, were the twinkling lights. In this room he had made a woman of her as no other man had. Not dear David, nor safe Sam. Lara wanted him. But this time she felt mature enough about her sexual passion for Jamal. Strong enough to face her own erotic self and take responsibility for it.

She felt his presence behind her before he even touched her. When he placed his hands caressingly on her shoulders, a tremor of excitement caused her to close her eyes for a moment and sigh. He drew the combs from her hair and it tumbled into his hands. Jamal arranged the blonde tresses around her shoulders and down her back. He kissed them with great tenderness, then the side of her neck, and the lobe of her ear.

‘I want you. I always want you. I’ve wanted you terribly, for these many weeks since my return. I hardly dreamed you would come tonight.’

Lara felt elated that she had been able to keep him guessing.

‘I have never seen you like this – brimming with sensual power for all the world to see. It thrills me to know that no man has ever had you as I have. Tell me how much you want me. Tell me you’re not going to pretend that I mean nothing to you. Let me make love to you. And don’t be afraid of who you are and what you are. Take courage and trust me, and we can go together to places you have never been before. I want to make all your erotic fantasies come true.’

Lara turned round to face him. One pull on a strand of the soft silk bow and her dress seemed to dissolve. He slipped it from her shoulders and she stood before him in her black satin spike-heeled pumps, naked above her black stockings. The dark, plum-coloured nimbus round her
erect nipples and against the creamy whiteness of her skin triggered the sexual violence in Jamal. Those full breasts so ripe for his hands and mouth … he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He placed her against the pillows while kissing her eyes and cheeks, biting passionately into her lips, between mumbling his love for her.

He undressed with an urgency she had not seen in him before, flinging his things away from them, then slid on to the bed and lay next to her. He pulled her roughly into his arm and rocked her for a while, while licking the dark nimbuses, sucking deeply on her nipples, sometimes slapping the sides of her breasts, wanting her to feel the sting of the passion he had for her. He forced her to say she loved him. And, once she had, she could not stop. She told him more, it all kept tumbling out. How she loved him for his cock, his tongue, those hands of his that searched out every nuance of her erotic nature and steered her towards sexual bliss.

Her honesty and passion affected him. Though he wanted to tell her he loved her more than ever before, he could not find the words. Instead, he showed her in the way that would give her the most pleasure. He placed her on her knees, straddling him. She offered him first one breast then the other, and he, more calmly now, kissed them, opened his mouth and devoured as much of them as he could, while his hands roamed freely wherever he located a place to excite her passion.

He placed his face between her breasts and smothered himself with them. The thought of dying inside her exited his lust. He parted the breasts, and, as if he fantasised them full of mother’s milk, caressed one tit with great tenderness and sucked deeply, half-disappointed not to taste her milk. She seemed lost, as if transported to some realm of the god Eros. Searching fingers found her soft moist slit, open and yearning for him.

Slowly he pulled her down to lie on top of him. His penis probed that soft warm place oozing with sweet cum. He crushed her in his arms, kissed her with wild passion, with lips and tongue, as he felt the fire rising in her. They made love, she relentlessly impaled by his throbbing penis. He loved her, and at that moment, nothing else in the world mattered to Lara.

Her eyes spoke wordless volumes of her deep need for sexual ecstasy. He had not understood before her desperation to be loved, adored for herself, and her appetite for life. She filled his heart at once and forever. He gave in and confessed.

‘I love you.’

‘You’ve said that before.’

‘But do you believe me?’ He was kissing her again.

‘Yes, I must believe you.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you reach me as no other man has. Because you set me free to explore my passion to live. And you could not do that unless you love. That’s the way sex with you has always been, but, until now, I could not accept that. I was too busy suffering guilt-feelings about my sensual self and your exploitation of me.’ She kissed him deeply and bit into the sides of his mouth, dug her fingernails into the flesh on his back, and raised and lowered herself again and again on his penis, riding him with urgency and coming in waves of lust made more powerful by her honesty.

He lost control. This young slip of a girl was in command. She had seductive power over him that, until now, he had not admitted to. He pulled her head back by her hair and told her, ‘Give yourself up to me – now and for always – and I’ll give myself up to you as I have never done with any other woman in my life. Be my sexual slave, and I’ll be yours, and we will love each other for it. It’s a
fair exchange, Lara, and I promise you will never be happier. A bargain?’

She was tired of running away from Jamal, from her sexuality. She gave herself to him, without fear or conditions. She committed herself to his desire, to do with her whatever he chose. She longed to explore the far reaches of her lust. With him, she felt she might be half-safe in doing it.

Jamal, the consummate seducer, believed her, not while she told him, but when he felt her give herself to him, before she even assented. It was as if her heart, body and soul submitted simultaneously. That was how he loved his women the most: enslaved to him. That was when he sensed real power over them, felt able to mould them to his will. Lara had taken longer than most, but then she had been younger, more spoilt and better protected than most.

Jamal raised her off him and rolled her over on to her back. From the small chest of drawers next to the bed he drew a large pink jade object, a sculpted penis encrusted with raised flowers, Chinese roses. A Han dynasty piece of art made to be used by men to excite themselves by watching the jade penis violate their women with ecstatic pleasuring. Jamal, like those emperors and noblemen of the past, enjoyed sinking this pornographic
objet d’art
into Lara. She attempted to stifle moans of delight as he twisted and turned the penis better to impress the flowers, the knob, on her tender inside. In vain. Her ecstasy enraged his lust. And now he straddled her with his face between her legs to watch the thrust and parry between jade dildo and flesh as he manipulated it with such dexterity. She caressed his bottom and fed his engorged penis slowly into her mouth. Filled, to the rhythm of the jade thrusts, she fucked him with her mouth. They were the god and goddess Eros that night.

When Lara woke the following morning, she was in
Jamal’s bed, enfolded in her lover’s arms. He opened his eyes, and they made morning love even before they spoke. They bathed together before breakfast in bed, on white lacquer trays. The sun streaming into the room, two Moroccan servants fussing over the breakfast trays, a recording of Rubinstein playing Chopin – sexual slavery in this case seemed to have a tolerable aftermath.

From long slender crystal flutes, stuffed with tiny white peaches that had had vintage pink champagne poured over them, they toasted themselves without words, simply the rims of their glasses touching. A sound like the tinkle of a tiny silver bell. Crystal meeting crystal. Lara took a sip, enough to quench her thirst. She watched Jamal empty his glass in one long, slow swallow. His servant filled it at once. He drank again and plucked a white peach from the glass. She watched him eat one, then a second. She followed suit. She felt the succulent flesh as it burst on her tongue. It was sweet, and the juicy texture sensuous. Placing his glass on the tray, Jamal dismissed the men. One arm pulled Lara that little bit closer to him, gently enough to avoid upsetting their trays.

‘Why have you been staring at me, my love? Do you think our being here together so unreal? Am I a mirage? Should I vanish in a blink of your eye, a puff of your imagination?’ He laughed. That teasing wicked laugh that she knew so well, and had, until now, feared because of its power to charm, to seduce.

‘Is something wrong? he asked, the smile still on his lips.

‘No. Nothing’s wrong. Except …’

‘Ah, with women there is always an “except”. Except what, my decadent angel?’

‘Except I’m surprised to be here having breakfast with you in this room. I have never done that before.’

‘No, that’s true. How do you feel about it?’

‘Comfortable.’

He gave her a smile and asked: ‘Just comfortable?’

‘Strangely happy. As if my being here has brought us closer together.’

They gazed into each other’s eyes for some time before he spoke. Then he asked her, ‘Will I flatter you too much if I tell you: you are one of just a very few women who have stayed in this room, woken in this bed?’

‘Does that mean something?’

‘Only that I love you more than the women I entertain in the Fifty-Third Street house. You know the form. You’ve been there.’

He raised his glass and drank. Broke off a corner of the warm croissant and buttered it and popped it into his mouth. He had said it, he loved her. He was done with talking about it. Without looking at her, he changed the subject, suggested, ‘My favourite egg-dish. You must eat it now, before it gets cold.’

He placed a forkful in his own mouth then exclaimed, ‘
Merveilleux
!’ He followed it with a sip of champagne, another corner of the croissant, and picked up his fork again. ‘You will never find this dish prepared better than my chef does it. He is a master at fresh oysters and scrambled eggs. First he shucks the large plump Belon oysters flown in from France the same morning, and pats them dry. Then he places them gently in a frying pan of hot walnut-oil and butter. In seconds, Lara, seconds they catch a golden sizzle and he has turned them over, and is pouring the beaten egg over them. A quick scramble, and this …’

Lara tasted the oyster as it burst, still soft at its centre, in her mouth. Combining with the egg, it was as he said: sheer ambrosia. Jamal was still talking recipes, but she could hardly concentrate on what he was saying. She was too distracted by the knowledge that he loved her. She felt dizzy with joy: he loved her, and he was able to tell her so. The moment she had opened her eyes and seen the room,
she had known. She sensed that, unless he loved her, he could never have allowed her to stay in his house.

Suddenly she was ravenous; she ate her sensuous scrambled eggs, croissant and brioche with gusto. She drank, as he did, hot cups of Fortnum & Mason’s Royal Blend tea. Then suddenly she slumped back against the pillows, laughing. She had no idea what he was talking about, she had lost him seconds after he had told her he loved her. Her laughter did at last stop his babbling.

‘It never stops with you, Jamal. Even at breakfast. It’s always sex with you. If it’s not carnal, it’s epicurean. This is the best breakfast of my life, and I will never forget it. It will always be one of the special experiences that happened to me.’

Unable to contain her feelings for him one minute more, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. ‘Breakfast – sexy and delicious, just like you. Oh, I’m so happy. What does it all mean?’

‘That we’re in love. That we’ve a larger secret to hide than before. Now finish your eggs before they get cold.’

He seemed not very happy about being in love. Or if he was, he was hiding it too well for Lara’s liking. His attitude sobered her up. She felt compelled to ask him, ‘Why does it have to be a secret? Why can’t we proclaim it to the world? I will.’

‘You won’t, you know.’

‘Why?’

Jamal removed their trays to the floor next to the bed. ‘Now listen to me well, Lara. Things have changed for us since last night, but not a lot. Think about it. You will see I am right.’

He took her in his arms and kissed her. She accepted his kisses, but could not agree with him that things had changed so little for them. She protested, ‘I can’t agree with you. Maybe not a lot for you, but I feel my whole life
has changed because we are in love. Why, give me one good reason why we should keep our feelings a secret.’

‘You know too little about love and being in love, Lara. I have loved you since you were a little girl. But not in the way you want me to love you. You were a spoilt child who had everything she ever wanted, got everything her heart desired. You had every advantage in the world. And now you are a woman and nothing in you has changed, and I love you all the more for it. That’s the way it is, and that’s the way it should be, as far as I am concerned. But the one thing you cannot have is me. Or not the way
you
want me. Lara, take what we have, and enjoy it to the full, because that’s what I’m going to do. But it can only go as far as I will allow it, and that’s why it has to remain
our
secret.