Possession Ch 04

Beth awoke in a room that was bathed in light. It was the middle of the day, she guessed. But if it hadn't been so bright, she would have rolled over and gone back to sleep.

She just wanted to forget what had happened the night before. When she had finally collected herself, she had clambered into her crumpled garments. Her nerves had been completely frayed and her hands were shaking so much she hadn't been able to match the buttons of her pyjama top to their respective holes.

Still in a daze, she had almost crawled up the stairs until she found her room. Then she had collapsed on her bed, immediately dropping into a black oblivion from which she had emerged only too soon.

She had slept deeply and dreamlessly. But she had been so tired. It was the sort of overwhelming exhaustion that came at the end of a long ordeal. But Beth knew her ordeal was far from over. It had merely begun.

Beth had been so humiliated. Dmitri had ordered her to undress for him. she did not have to comply, but she had. then she had been put out that he had not shown her any sort of appreciation or admiration for her.

He had not laid a finger on her in anger and he had not caused her pain, but he had touched her. Not just touched her, he had stroked her in her most intimate region. What was worse, she had enjoyed it.

Once or twice, late at night, under the cloak of darkness when she had been certain that her stepfather and mother were sound asleep, she had explored her body herself. On more than one occasion, she had managed to bring herself to a shuddering orgasm. She had enjoyed the release, but there had been no fireworks - it had not been the spectacular sensation that Beth had heard the girls at work gossiping about.

Yet Dmitri had not simply made her come - he had made her come apart! Afterwards she had been breathless. But she had also been left strangely bereft and even humbled.

She was so confused. How in the world had he brought her to pleasure? She hated him for the power he had flaunted over her family. His threats against her mother had been unforgiveable. He had scared her so much, she had been backed into a corner. Surely she should be immune to him?

Instead her reaction to him had been intense. Her body thrummed with the excitement of new self-discovery.

But now she also felt grubby. Between her legs, she was sticky and damp from the lingering evidence of her encounter with Dmitri. Every time she rubbed her thighs together, she was reminded of what had happened.

It made her redden with embarrassment. But he had ignited a new craving inside her. Now she knew what it was to explode, she wanted to recapture the moment. Like a drug, one taste was simply not enough to satisfy her completely.

She was so confused! Her frame of mind was as volatile as a whirlpool and as stable as a landslide. With a frustrated groan, she reached for a spare pillow and pulled it over her head.

There was a knock on the door, interrupting Beth's mental tirade of self-pity. She sat up, clutching the pillow protectively to her chest. She hesitated, not answering. What if it was Dmitri? She wasn't mentally prepared to face him.

The knocking persisted. When Beth still didn't respond, the door opened and a woman's face poked through the gap.

"Oh good!" the intruder exclaimed. "You are awake!"

Beth stared at her warily. "Who are you?" she asked.

The woman entered, nudging the door open with her foot because she was carrying a tray in her hands. She was much older than Beth - probably in her sixties - and her grey hair was pinned back in a bun. She was dressed neatly in a navy skirt and white blouse and had an air of kind authority about her.

"Only Mrs Jenkins, my dear. I'm Mr Voronov's housekeeper."

"His housekeeper?" Beth repeated with a touch of incredulity.

"Of course!" Mrs Jenkins set the tray down on top of a chest of drawers. "The man is completely incapable of housework - he needs someone around here to look after him! And I've been doing it since he was still in nappies - I was his nanny you see."

He'd had a nanny and now he had a housekeeper? Beth didn't know why she was so surprised. She'd been welcomed by a butler the previous night, no wonder he employed other staff. And the image of Dmitri washing dirty dishes, although it was amusing to picture him in marigold gloves, was laughable.

Beth, on the other hand, was usually the one waiting on other people, not the one being waited upon. She watched Mrs Jenkins potter about, picking up a cushion that had fallen off the end of the bed and straightening a towel on the rail hanging off the radiator. Awkwardly, she pushed aside the covers and made to get up.

"Now just you stay in bed, young lady," Mrs Jenkins rebuked Beth with a stern look. "You aren't going anywhere until you've had some breakfast."

Beth froze before slowly tucking her feet back under the duvet. Mrs Jenkins brought over the tray to her and placed it on her lap.

"It's only a cup of tea and a round of toast, but I didn't know what you'd didn't think you'd want anything too fussy after your late night last night."

"Thanks," Beth murmured in reply.

"Eat up," Mrs Jenkins smiled at her encouragingly.

Beth began nibbling at a piece of toast.

"Good girl. What do you think of the jam?"

Beth tilted her head, puzzled. "The jam?"

"It's from my garden, you see - I grew the strawberries myself."

Beth had never met anyone who made their own jam before. It had always seemed like such a time-consuming process. She took a larger bite of the toast.

"It's really tasty," she said once she had swallowed.

"Good! I was worried it would be a bit too sweet - you never can tell with summer strawberries, you know!" Mrs Jenkins wandered over to the towel rail and began folding and refolding the towel that was hanging there.

"You don't have to do that," Beth said.

"Nonsense! It's about time you let someone look after you - goodness knows you look like you could do with a good feed and a holiday. I know how young girls like you always think it's fashionable to be skinny, but as my mother told me, you should never trust a girl who is too thin - they always try to steal your lunch!"

She chuckled at her own joke. It was an infectious laugh and Beth found herself joining in.

"Isn't it amazing what a good laugh and a cup of tea can do, isn't it?"

Beth nodded in agreement.

"Like I said, it's about time you let someone look after you. I know you've been having a trying time recently - sometimes you just have to make sure you get some food down you so you can face the next day. Though I won't blame you if you've lost your appetite," Mrs Jenkins paused, her lips pursed in disapproval. "I can't say I approve of Mr Voronov's methods. Threatening your family - I was his nanny from when he was just a tiny dot and I know I've brought him up better than that!"

Beth spluttered, choking on her toast. She coughed and gulped at her tea to wash it down.

"He told you?"

"Yes," Mrs Jenkins said, her expression sympathetic. "As I said, I can't say I agree with what he is doing. But it's not my place to judge him so don't ask me to say any more on the matter. Although if you want my opinion, if I were still his nanny, I would give him exactly what for!"

Despite how heartening it was to know she had Mrs Jenkins behind her, Beth stared down at her plate of half-eaten breakfast and willed for the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She felt thoroughly ashamed. Hearing about her arrangement with Dmitri from someone else only increased how disgusted she was with herself.

The mattress shifted as Mrs Jenkins sat on the edge of the bed.

"Now don't look so downcast, dear, I've met all sorts, working for Mr Voronov and his family. I've learned how to spot the wrong sort from the right sort and I can tell you're not a bad person," she patted Beth's knee reassuringly.

"I still can't believe he told you," Beth raised her hands and buried her face in them.

"Told me?" Mrs Jenkins chortled. "He didn't tell me. I asked! He said he had a lady visiting and when I asked him who you were, he was rather shifty about it. I knew something was up, and bless him, he tried to come up with some sort of story, but soon enough the words came tumbling out. Like I said, I used to be his nanny - that boy might have been able to lie to his mother, but there is no way he can lie to me!"

"Still, I just..." Beth paused to search for the words. "I just wish - "

"Dear, whatever you might wish, I've already told you I don't think any less of you for your arrangement with Mr Voronov. I'm old enough and ugly enough to know that there are some things in life you just have to do and live with." She nodded at the breakfast tray that Beth had barely touched. "So you eat up and I promise you'll soon start feeling much better."

The housekeeper hauled herself back to her feet, wincing as her knees creaked. Obediently, Beth began munching on her toast again.

"Good girl. Now you stay in bed for as long as you want. Mr Voronov says he's not expecting to see you before dinner at seven." Opening a cupboard, she pulled out a large, fluffy, white towelling bathrobe. "You'll want this until we can get you something more presentable to wear."

"He wants to see me at dinner?"

"He didn't say for sure, dear, but he asked me to lay out food for two. I'm at my bridge club tonight - it's my evening off - so it'll only be cold cuts and salad, but I'm sure I can find some time this afternoon to whip up something tasty for dessert." Mrs Jenkins frowned as she assessed Beth. "Although you do look too skinny to eat puddings. Maybe I should just chop some fruit."

"I love desserts," Beth blurted out. "But don't go to any trouble."

"Oh, nonsense." The frown on Mrs Jenkins' face vanished. "Too many of the girls Mr Voronov brings home stick to such strange diets. I always tell him not to trust a woman who survives on cucumber and celery - perhaps he finally listened," she winked at Beth.

Mrs Jenkins continued pottering about until Beth had finished eating her breakfast. Only then did she whisk the tray away and leave Beth alone, with strict instructions to find her if she was hungry later and directions to the nearest bathroom.

Without the friendly chatter, it was eerily quiet. The silence unnerved Beth. It would have been tranquil, had it not given her time and peace to think.

For some unknown reason, it mattered to her that Mrs Jenkins did not think her defiled. Yet Beth was aware there was a whole world outside who would be ready to look down on her for her actions.

Despite her inner protestations to the contrary, Beth had a choice. When Dmitri had asked her - told her - to remove her clothes, she could have walked out of his house. She could have demanded to be taken home, where she would have gone to sleep and when she woke up that morning she would have been in her own bed, not some strange man's house.

But then Dmitri would have sent his goons. He hadn't seemed to be the sort of man who made a habit of bluffing.

Whatever her actions were, Beth had to live with their consequences. And if she had to choose between guilt that she had not kept her mother safe and a toxic concoction of self-loathing and debasement, she picked the latter.

Perhaps she had assumed too much over the past years. When Beth and her mother had found themselves alone, their roles had switched. Beth's Mum was too distraught to do even the simplest of tasks so it had fallen to Beth, who was barely a teenager at the time, to look after them both. She had become the parents, even though she too was adjusting to life without her Dad.

But maybe if she hadn't taken on so much responsibility, Beth's mother would have been forced to get a grip. She wouldn't have thrown herself at any man who offered her some semblance of protection and, more importantly, she might not have married Kevin.

Hindsight was as clear as day. But it was too late for what-ifs and maybes. Beth could not undo the past, just like she had no way of telling the future. Deep down she acknowledged that although she had been presented with a choice, her other option was not realistically one that she cared to consider. But it hadn't been a fair choice.

And so Beth decided to do the only thing she could do at that point in time to feel more human. She wanted to bathe.

Gathering together a towel and the fluffy robe that Mrs Jenkins had laid out for her, she went in search of the bathroom. When she found it, thanks to Mrs Jenkins earlier directions, it was immediately apparent that it was well-equipped. A new toothbrush had been laid out for her - the packaging was in the bin. A large array of shampoos and other hair products lined the shelf. There was even deodorant and a small vial of perfume.

A slight frown creased Beth's forehead when she noticed that most of the bottles had been opened. Her momentary illusion that this selection had been put out specially for her was shattered. Clearly she was just one of many women who had needed to use the facilities whilst staying in Dmitri's house.

She needed to get a grip, Beth told herself as she ran the shower. Any relationship she had with Mr Voronov was purely business and certainly did not have anything to do with romance. The sooner she got that into her head, the better. And he had made it clear that he was staking ownership of her, not the other way around. She had no right to feel even the slightest pang of jealousy, no matter how small.

But Beth wasn't jealous. Not a jot. And above all, she did not care one tiny bit what Dmitri Voronov thought of her.

Undressing quickly, she stepped under the hot running water with a sigh of bliss. The shower was heavenly. The water cascading over her skin was both cleansing and revitalising. It was exactly what she had needed.

With a sense of petty victory, she chose what appeared to be the most expensive bottle of shower gel. It smelled like limes and blossoms - a far cry from the cheap bars of soap she bought from the supermarket. Rubbing it into a lather, she spread the foam over her body.

Her hand brushed her nipples and instantly they hardened into stiff peaks. He had also touched her there and the sensation had been wonderful. Experimentally she grasped a bud between her thumb and forefinger and squeezed. The sudden pressure forced a breathless gasp to escape her lips and when she let go, her nipple still ached and tingled.

Hesitantly she moved her hand lower. It was her body, but it felt naughty to be doing this now she knew what sort of intense pleasure she could achieve. Yet Beth could not help but wonder how Dmitri had known. He had played her body with the skilled fingers of an expert pianist. But why could she not do the same?

Glancing through the door of the shower cubicle, she checked the door was locked. Then she pressed her fingers against her folds. It felt good, but a far cry from how amazing it had been before.

But Dmitri had not touched her like that. Chewing her lip, Beth shifted. She parted her legs, bending one knee slightly. Her lips parted and she ran a finger between them. Her skin was wet and slippery, but not from soap and water.

Where was that spot that Dmitri had found? The one that had pushed her over the edge?

Beth's fingernail grazed a hard pearl. Her whole body jerked and she felt her internal muscles convulse. She had to shoot out an arm and lean against a wall to steady herself, or else her knees would have buckled. There, that was the spot.

Her clitoris. The whispered the word, tasting it. How anatomical it was. Such a contrast to the intense desire that it triggered.

The door handle rattled. Beth froze. Then there was a knock.

Beth rinsed her fingers quickly and turned off the water.

"Yes?" she called out.

"Only me, dear!" Mrs Jenkins replied. "Don't you fret - I wasn't going to peek. Just wanted to check you were all right - you've been in there an awfully long time."

"I'm fine," Beth said. "Just washing my hair."

"Not to worry then - come out when you're all done. There's a visitor waiting for you in your room."

Beth asked who it was, but Mrs Jenkins didn't respond - she must have already gone. She wanted to groan in frustration. What she would have given to be left alone for another ten minutes.

But her sense of courtesy meant she felt compelled to hurry. She finished washing, dampening her hair to make the reason for her delay seem more plausible. Wrapping herself in the towel robe, she folded her clothes into a bundle and carried them back into her room.

The bed had already been made, not that one could tell. The bedspread was covered in piles of new garments of every description. Surveying the organised chaos was a stunningly beautiful woman who could have stepped straight from the catwalk. She wore fitted jeans as if they were a second skin with a black t-shirt and blazer. High-heeled thigh-high boots completed the ensemble. She oozed understated sexiness and confidence that Beth could only be envious of.

"Hello?"

The woman swung around, her eyes locking onto Beth. "So you are the girl my husband won't stop talking about," she remarked with an air of perfected nonchalance. She was not Russian, but her accent still had a hint of the exotic.

"Excuse me?"

"I am Masha, Ivan's wife. He tells me he saw you naked last night."

For a moment Beth was about to say sorry. But why should she? It wasn't as if she had performed a strip tease for the two men. She hadn't even realised Ivan was married until it had been mentioned, and if he had been wearing a wedding ring, Beth hadn't noticed it. If he was committed to his wife, he should have realised he should not be there and left sooner.

So, folding her arms, even though she was barefoot and clad only in a robe, she stared the other woman down as best she could, considering she was several inches shorter. "Ivan was there when I was naked, yes."

Masha arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow in challenge. "And you are not apologetic?"

"Whatever happened last night was a private matter between myself and Mr Voronov. Your husband was a witness. I do not think that is my fault."

"Ivan did not tell me you had a spine. I approve."

"Thanks," Beth muttered uncertainly.

"You do not have to worry. I do not blame you. I learned a long time ago that when it comes to those two men, I should never forget that they are like brothers, but will never actually be brothers."

"What do you mean?"

Masha shrugged with resignation. "Ivan is Dmitri's best friend - perhaps the only man that Dmitri trusts. But he is also an employee with an employee's contract and an employee's pay. His family did not have the same luck that Dmitri's father had. Without the Voronov family, he thinks he would be nothing. A brother would have told Dmitri to stop. Instead, when Dmitri tells Ivan to do something, Ivan obeys." Masha shook her head. "One day that silly man will grow a pair of balls."

Beth's eyes widened and she was struck utterly dumb by Masha's scathing tone.

"Oh don't look so shocked. I might be married to the man, but I know he's no saint. Even if he ever had been, spending any sort of time with Dmitri would corrupt even a host of God's angels."

"Is he so terrible?"

"You've only just met the man, haven't you?" Masha didn't wait for Beth to respond. "If you think what he is trying to do to you is terrible, you will soon learn what the true meaning of terrible is. He might be blackmailing you into bed, but he is capable of much, much worse."

Masha turned her attention to the bed and started picking through a pile of cardigans. She left two on the bed before tossing the remainder into a bag.

"What is all of this?" Beth asked, glad to move onto another topic of conversation.

"Dmitri called Ivan and told him that you needed clothes. My husband, like most men, would never go shopping unless threatened by death. Fortunately Dmitri hadn't made that ultimatum, so he called me to do the job instead." Masha made a cursory examination of Beth. "Fortunately, unless you're hiding anything under that robe, he seemed to have provided me with an accurate physical description."