Vintage (46 page)

Her limbs were surprisingly long and tight and tanned. The muscles in her arms and legs were elegant, like a ballerina’s. Christina’s first thought was that if Odile had been just a couple of inches taller, she could have made it as a catwalk model. She had the perfect, slender figure that the fashion masters loved to design for—no bumps to ruin the line. Christina had always been too curvy for the haute couture shows. She had never really found herself in great demand in Paris. You did fashion or you did
Sports Illustrated.
Very few girls crossed over.

“Do you think the water is ready?” Odile asked.

Christina realized that she had been staring at Odile’s body.

“Try it out.”

Odile stepped out of her panties. She kicked them in the direction of her dress and shoes. Then, wearing nothing but a smile, she stepped into the bath and lowered herself down into the soft white foam. She did it very slowly, like a siren disappearing beneath the waves. Christina couldn’t help staring again. She had never met anyone quite so content in her own skin.

“Is it hot enough?” Christina asked eventually.

“It’s perfect,” said Odile. “Come on in.”

Christina hesitated. “I’ll go and grab us some more wine first.”

Seconds later, she found herself in the suite’s sitting room and in a quandary. Should she nip into her bedroom and change into a swimsuit and robe? She ordinarily wore a swimsuit in the hot tub back in California. And this was a similar kind of situation, right? But if Christina went back in there in a one-piece, or even in her bikini bottoms, it would look prudish. Worse, it might look as though she was making some kind of negative comment on Odile’s manners.

Christina remembered what her grandmother used to say. “Manners are for the purpose of making other people feel comfortable.” That was what mattered. If Odile felt most comfortable in the nude … 

Taking a big swig of wine, Christina made her decision. She took off her cashmere sweater and jeans and replaced them with a long Japanese robe. Nothing underneath. Then she headed back into the bathroom.

Odile was relaxing. She had her eyes closed, her head tipped back against the side of the tub.

“I thought you’d run away,” she said, without opening her eyes.

“Just talking to the chef,” Christina lied.

“He did a wonderful job tonight,” said Odile. “Everything was delicious.”

Christina undid the belt of her robe and climbed the steps to the tub, intending to discard her cover-up at the very last minute. She hoped that Odile would keep her eyes shut until she too was submerged. She didn’t. Odile opened her eyes right as Christina was casting the robe away, in a gesture that seemed altogether too dramatic for having been witnessed. Christina blushed to the roots of her hair.

“Is that what they call a Brazilian?” Odile asked.

After that opening gambit, the conversation could
only get less embarrassing, Christina decided. She settled into the bubbles opposite Odile and did her best to relax. Being covered to the neck with warm water helped, as did more of Villa Bacchante’s Blanc de Noirs. But eventually there was another lull in the conversation. The timer on the Jacuzzi jets clicked back to zero and the water was still.

Christina looked toward the two fluffy towels that were draped over a chair nearby. Not near enough. While she was wondering how she could get out of the tub and to the towels without provoking any more cringe-making observations about her body, Christina was ambushed.

Odile moved from her side of the tub to Christina’s and planted a kiss right on her lips.

Christina didn’t protest. Indeed, eventually it was she who led Odile by the hand out of the bathroom and into the master bedroom. They headed straight for the enormous bed. Christina pulled back the champagne-colored satin counterpane while Odile threw the surplus pillows onto the floor.

Odile lay back first and pulled Christina down on top of her. The tension that had been growing between them all evening exploded in their kisses. Christina grabbed at Odile’s body hungrily. She threw her head back and gasped as Odile bit her shoulder in a moment of uncontrolled passion.

They tumbled over and over, exploring each other’s bodies as though there might not be another chance. Christina sucked at Odile’s tiny pink nipples. Odile returned the favor, making Christina sigh with delight. Odile was the first to venture lower. She cupped Christina’s warm pubis in her hand.

At that moment, they locked eyes. Odile searched Christina’s green eyes for permission and found it there in
the crinkles of a smile. Permission granted, Odile parted Christina’s labia with her fingers. Christina was already wet. She arched upward as Odile stroked the smooth pink skin of her vulva.

“Lay back.” Odile pushed Christina down onto the mattress again.

With well-practiced fingers, Odile found Christina’s clitoris. She moistened the clit with Christina’s own wetness and set to work massaging the tiny nub into life. She could tell how well she was doing from the sound of Christina’s breathing and from the way Christina held the top of Odile’s arm. The faster and firmer Odile worked, the harder Christina’s fingers gripped her.

“Stop, stop!” Christina moaned but Odile could tell that it wasn’t an order. Instead, she pressed her mouth against Christina’s swollen red lips and silenced her with kisses.

Christina’s eyes flickered as she fell into a sort of pre-orgasmic trance. All her inhibitions had finally deserted her, forced out by the stronger sensations that were taking over every fiber of her body. She felt entirely physical. Animal. This was what her body was for. Pure enjoyment.

Blood filled her clitoris, amplifying the shock waves that started there and reverberated throughout her being. The ecstasy was intensified still further when Odile sucked on her nipples, flicking them from side to side with a tongue that promised much more joy later on. Meanwhile, Odile dipped her finger inside Christina’s vagina again and lubricated her clitoris for the final stretch.

This time Christina begged Odile not to stop. She closed her eyes tightly and gripped Odile’s arm so hard that she would leave red marks. Her orgasm built inside her. It started like a small electric charge. Pins and needles.
This was the point at which all might not be lost. While Odile was busy with her clitoris, Christina twisted her own left nipple between her fingertips, trying to regain the sensation of Odile sucking there. Odile took the hint. She sucked and stroked and sucked until Christina started gasping as though she could no longer breathe. Now there was no going back.

Christina’s cries rose in volume until she was almost shouting.

“Oh God!” she cried as her orgasm cascaded through her body. “Odile! Oh God!” She clamped her hand around Odile’s wrist to stop her from carrying on. It was all too much. Christina collapsed back onto the pillows. When she looked up at the chandelier above them, she was amused to see that it was jangling.

Odile stayed the night. The following morning they drank coffee together on the terrace where it had all started. It was a beautiful day. The sky was clear and blue. Odile pointed out more landmarks for Christina.

“My house is just over there.”

Her mobile phone beeped. Odile had a text. She sent one back, smiling as she texted.

“I should go,” she said. “Just one more kiss.”

Christina leaned into Odile’s embrace. They kissed passionately. Odile slipped her hand inside Christina’s cashmere sweater and pushed it up to reveal her breasts. She placed another kiss on Christina’s nipple before she let her go.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said. “
Au revoir, ma chérie.
”

H
ilarian arrived in Slough for the last quarterly meeting of the Froggy Bottom trustees that year with a spring in his step. Not even the fact that he had to be in Slough could dent his mood. He carried with him a bottle of Froggy Bottom’s new release for each of his fellow board members and looked forward to telling them that Kelly herself had designed the wonderful label. That should shut old Reginald up for a little while.

But Hilarian sensed that something was afoot the moment Reginald’s secretary swung open the door to the wood-paneled boardroom where the trustees always sat. Reginald was smiling. That wasn’t usual or especially comforting, though perhaps it could be explained by a sudden attack of Christmas spirit. However, Georgina’s tight little mouth was also twisted into an approximation of a happy face. Definitely bad news.

“Good afternoon, Hilarian,” said Reginald, ostentatiously looking at his watch. Hilarian was five minutes late.

“Traffic,” said Hilarian.

“That’s why I always set off fifteen minutes sooner than I think I ought to,” said Georgina. “Prior planning … ”

“Christmas presents from Kelly,” said Hilarian, ignoring Georgina’s dig as he arranged the bottles of Froggy Bottom’s first sparkling wine—a blend of pinot noir with just a little chardonnay—on the polished wood table.
Reginald immediately picked up the nearest bottle and set it back down again on top of a pile of papers, so as not to mark the French polish. “Ideal for pre-Christmas lunch aperitifs. Kelly’s very own vintage,” Hilarian continued.

“Her vintage,” echoed Georgina with a little snort. “We’re afraid not.”

Hilarian listened with growing horror as Reginald launched into his speech. After four years of looking for a way to part Kelly from Froggy Bottom, it seemed that the Mollisons had at last found their legal loophole. They’d employed a new lawyer who went through the wording of Dougal’s will like a forensic scientist, taking each and every letter and full stop and turning them inside out and upside down in his search for the tiniest crack that would let him insert a scalpel to cut Kelly off.

Now Reginald explained the position. Certain phrases jumped out. “Exact words of the will.” Reginald shook his head.
“His
child,” “Quite specific in that regard,” “Kelly named as his child in an entirely separate document.” “Good reason to believe that Kelly Elson is not the illegitimate daughter of Dougal at all … ”

“Reginald, you know I’m no fan of legalese. What exactly does this mean?” Hilarian asked.

“It means that, as trustees, Georgina and I will be voting to suspend maintenance payments to Kelly until the matter of her parentage has been properly investigated.”

“What?” said Hilarian. “You can’t.”

“I’m afraid we can. It is absolutely within our discretion. We’d advise you to follow suit.”

“And then … ”

“If it is revealed that Kelly has been benefiting from the proceeds of Dougal’s estate under erroneous circumstances, then ownership of Froggy Bottom will be transferred to Dougal’s legitimate heirs at once.”

“We need to appoint a lawyer to investigate this on Kelly’s behalf,” said Hilarian.

“I don’t believe we need to do
anything
on Kelly Elson’s behalf until we know exactly who she is,” said Georgina.

“She’s Dougal’s daughter,” Hilarian said simply. But even as he said it, the first fingers of doubt began to inveigle themselves into his mind.

“That’s what he was told. But whose word do we have except that of Kelly’s mother? A woman, who, according to reports from the housekeeper at the time, was not entirely to be trusted. A DNA test should prove it,” Georgina concluded.

“We don’t have Dougal’s DNA,” Hilarian pointed out.

“Ah, but we don’t need it,” said Reginald.

Hilarian was confused.

“Because we have the DNA of his legitimate children,” Reginald continued. “If a test shows that Kelly isn’t related to them, we have the answer.”

“You’re not serious.”

“We are deadly serious. As should you be,” said Reginald. “Dougal entrusted us with ensuring that his estate was properly managed.”

“As it is. Under Kelly. And she needs ten thousand pounds for new rootstock and maintenance. The root-stock is urgent. If we’re going to expand the vineyard this year, it needs to go into the ground in the next few weeks. I want her to have the money now.”

“We disagree. I think that concludes our business for today,” said Reginald. “Thank you for coming along, Hilarian.”

“What? You think that’s it?”

Reginald nodded. Georgina was carefully packing her papers back into her briefcase. Along with the bottle of wine.

“You’re so bloody pleased with yourself, aren’t you?
You bloody smug little shit. And you.” Hilarian pointed at Georgina. “You’re going to withhold Kelly’s money.”

“We don’t know that it’s her money—” Reginald began.

“You’re going to withhold Kelly’s money,” Hilarian persisted. “And still go home and drink the wine that she worked so hard to produce?”

Georgina took the bottle out of her briefcase and put it back on the table, as if to make a point.

“You’re a pair of bastards. What does it matter to you whether Kelly gets ten thousand pounds this month? It’s not like it comes out of your pockets. Dougal’s other kids don’t need the cash. And they don’t need the vineyard. They don’t even want it. They never went anywhere near there while Dougal was alive! That vineyard was Dougal’s pride and joy and neither of them gave a fig about it. They didn’t even bother to go to the funeral.”