Once her dessert was finished and Miss Buchanan had slid herself off Rhett, she acted like the two men she had just used weren't even there. She raised an eyebrow to Miss Havisham, who made a small but clearly meaningful gesture to two of the servers who had been attending the table. They quickly placed themselves at each arm of the naked woman, who was still dripping a mixture of fruit, cream, custard and sex fluids down her legs into little pools and wet footprints as she walked. She swaggered towards the door, stretching her arms as if awakening from a slumber, to place them one around the waist of each of the newly replaced men. They responded, one with his arm around her neck, the other around her waist, and both nibbling at her neck and ears, to her noisy delight.
The trio left in a haze of sexual suggestiveness, and I remained both appalled and impressed. The woman seemed to have no limit to her stamina, her appetite, and the depths of her debauchery.
Miss Havisham made another gesture, and the two soiled, flaccid men whom Miss Buchanan had just discarded were dismissed. The girls all took this as their cue, singing their goodnights as they made their exits.
And then there were three.
"Angelo, I wonder if you'd be kind enough to take Miss Shynalee to the room you prepared for her earlier, and make sure she has everything she desires," she looked at him over her glasses.
"Of course, Miss Havisham, and thank you for a lovely evening," He stood to pull my chair back. "Miss Shynalee, if you'd like to come with me I'll show you to your room," he flourished with an easy formality.
I allowed Miss Havisham to see the surface of my mixed emotions, my trepidation, my excitement, and my reservations as I stood to bid her goodnight. She responded by projecting reassurance, warmth, and confidence.
I put my arm in Angelo's and... oh lordy, the bicep! (That was obviously never going to get old, even though I felt like a silly teenager swooning over a pop star) I allowed him to promenade me away from the lone figure of Miss Havisham, who turned her attention to the remaining servers, directing them with bossy little commands in their work of cleaning up.
I can't remember the pleasant small talk Angelo made as we ascended the sweeping staircase to the first floor. My mind began to accelerate in nervous anticipation of what would happen when we reached the bedroom. What did I even want to happen? I was again rehashing my earlier concerns that, of course, Angelo was just doing his job. I now had no doubt that his job included everything and anything I requested, up to and even beyond what Miss Buchanan had just extracted from her own victims, but I didn't want some professional gigolo to run through his paces with me... did I?
Did I?
How much like Miss Buchanan was I? The idea was positively intoxicating, that this incredible man would be my plaything and would perform like a trained monkey for my amusement and pleasure. But even so, was that a fantasy I really wanted translated into the here-and-now of the real world?
I'd never really questioned my previous sexual experiences before, but between Angelo's positively swoon-worthy masculinity and manners, and the kiss with Crystal, both of which had so exceeded anything I had experienced with my previous boyfriends... I also wondered if I owed it to myself to just enjoy the moment with Angelo for, if nothing else, a bit of research into what I'm supposed to be getting from a boyfriend!
But the idea that I could share intimacy with Angelo, knowing that for his part it could be switched off at any moment, was terrifying. I had already (ok, I admit it) fallen too far for him. If we were to share a bed, what sort of shape would I be in then?
In a flash, the manor house was the Moulin Rouge. I could hear Zidler's voice, "Word to the wise, my dear: Never fall in love with a woman who sells herself. It always ends badly."
I was on a dangerous precipice. Truth be told, I was dangling over the edge of it and beginning to fall.
We were far down the hall which ran deep towards the back of the manor house, and Angelo had stopped talking. He was looking at me, expecting me to respond. I suddenly realized, to my tremendous embarrassment, that I had absolutely no idea what he had said. I blushed, "Um... oh, sorry?" I fumbled and mumbled like a fool.
He smiled kindly, "I said your dress is absolutely beautiful. You! are absolutely beautiful. I've so enjoyed our evening together."
Oh, shit. This was it. We were outside my room. He had the door open for me. He was... what? Was he saying goodnight? Shit!
"Angelo, I..." I started, and stopped again. His kind eyes were going to accept anything I said to him. There was literally no cost. I could do anything from send him away to hump him right here in the hallway, and whatever I wanted, he would do. But what of me? Dangling as I was, hanging by the thinnest thread and yearning to fall into his arms, though they would turn to dust if I did. I was stuck, lost in his eyes. Trapped.
He reached forward and took my hand, "I know I'm on the job, Shynalee, but please believe me. I wouldn't lie about this. I honestly, genuinely, really enjoyed your company tonight. That circus with Miss Buchanan was an unwelcome distraction. She's always like that. She's one of the more... demanding of Miss Havisham's clients. But I want you to know that there's no place I would rather have been tonight than by your side." If this was a professional seduction artist, he was good. How could I know?
Well, of course, if only I possessed the extraordinary ability to look inside people's minds and know how they really felt, that would obviously be pretty useful right at that moment, so... I scanned and probed, as I looked into his uncomplicated eyes. I could see that he had been with many of Miss Havisham's clients. Countless. Some he liked, some he tolerated, but he saw his job as a kind of sport that he was good at. But amid all of that there was something reflecting back at me that was unique. It was a fondness. He wasn't lying. He wasn't pretending. He did really like me.
We kissed.
I wish I could say, "He kissed me", because then it would be his fault. But I honestly can't say who initiated it. Was it just mutual? Is that a thing? I mean, we kissed each other at first, but oh boy, did he kiss me! His kiss was tender but authoritative, and it drove its message way, way, further than my mouth. I started to be activated all through my body, and not least my sex. It rapidly became a hungry kiss, and I know a lot of the hunger came from me.
And look, it had been a long day, ok? From Miss Havisham stripping me half naked in the park, exposing me in the shop, parading me in front of traffic, and submerging me in Mahogany's sweet torment, and then her own teasing, and don't forget my intimacy with Mahogany, and that fireworks encounter with Crystal, and then the show... and I had to admit it, Miss Buchanan's little stunt had strummed my senses at a pretty profound level, too. So was there just a little pent-up sexual tension? Yeah. Something like the Three Gorges Dam worth. And the walls were cracking.
He brought us inside the room and closed the door, then paused. I was panting, leaning in to kiss again, but he was stretching back, his shirt already pulled back and down, hanging from his waist and wrists, leaving his sculpted upper body reflecting the low lamp light. Did I do that?
He looked deeply into my eyes, and the world stopped turning.
"Is this what you want?" his deep, chocolatey warm voice laid out my choice. His tone was even. It was authoritative. He was ready for go, and he was ready for no-go. There was no escaping it. I would have to take responsibility and actually choose this if I wanted it. I wasn't going to be able to say later that I was swept up in the moment. The decision was mine.
Fuck!
