The Bracelet Read online

  ‘Slush pile?’

  She let her hand rest in his as she prepared to leave. ‘Don’t tell me that your research didn’t include slush piles! They’re the stuff of publishing nightmares, but just occasionally publishing dreams! Goodnight, Tarquin.’ It took a huge effort of will, but she managed to walk away from him and out of the wine bar without once looking back.

  Once home, however, her composure snapped and she rushed to the phone to call Jacqueline. She was grateful that her friend was in for once.

  ‘Jackie, I’ve just had my first meeting since I joined the society. He was the most incredible man, really deep and serious but you felt that underneath there was this other, totally different person. I couldn’t believe my luck!’

  ‘I told you the system works well,’ laughed Jackie.

  ‘But it doesn’t!’ Kristina could hear the childlike wail in her voice. ‘I don’t think he fancied me at all. When we parted he never mentioned anything about meeting up again.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Jackie, suddenly subdued.

  ‘When you first met Laurence, did you arrange when you’d next meet?’

  ‘Well, to be honest we went straight back to his place that first time. He said later that he couldn’t wait to see me put the bracelet on, and I felt the same.’

  ‘So did I!’ exclaimed Kristina. ‘I kept imagining what it would be like to have him dictating my every move, touching me when and where he wanted, arousing me in ways I’d never known before and …’

  ‘Kristina, stop it!’ said Jacqueline crisply. ‘You can’t force him to feel the same.’

  ‘Can’t I do anything about another meeting? Do I have to leave it to him?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jacqueline sadly. ‘That’s the whole point, don’t you see? The women are passive in this relationship. We can’t go and ask the men out like we do in our everyday lives. This is the society, and the men are in total control right from the moment you first meet.’

  ‘I wish I’d never heard of the society then!’ shouted Kristina, and she slammed down the phone.

  When Ben got in later she was already in bed and pretended to be asleep. If she couldn’t feel Tarquin’s hands on her body, or give reign to her sensuality under his tuition, then she certainly didn’t want Ben anywhere near her tonight. But she could have cried from fury and frustration.

  Chapter Three

  FOR THE NEXT three days Kristina continued to feel frustrated and confused. She’d never had a problem in getting any man she wanted, in fact her problem had been getting rid of the ones she didn’t. This turnaround had thrown her off balance, and she hated it. As a result she channelled all her rage and frustration into her work and drove an even harder bargain than usual with publishers and foreign agents.

  ‘We’ve had a good three days!’ remarked Sue as she went over the contracts she’d had to prepare. ‘You’ve got the magic touch this week.’

  ‘I wanted someone else’s magic touch,’ muttered Kristina.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Kristina quickly. ‘Talking to myself I’m afraid. Oh no, not the phone again. I wanted to get these emails sorted out. Ask them to call back would you. Say I’m in a meeting.’

  She watched Sue pick up the phone, and then saw her frown. ‘Could you repeat the name?’ asked Sue. ‘It just doesn’t ring a bell right now. I’m sure I …’

  Kristina didn’t wait to hear any more; she snatched the receiver from her startled assistant. ‘Kristina Masterton here. Can I help you?’

  ‘Yes you can, Kristina Masterton,’ replied a blessedly familiar voice. ‘I’d like you to come to my house at nine tonight.’ He gave her his address, then said, ‘Please do not wear any perfume or jewellery. That will be supplied.’

  He gave her no time to reply, no chance to say yes or no, he simply replaced his telephone and Kristina was left with her heart racing and her hands trembling at the realisation that it really was going to happen after all. Tonight she would have to put on the bracelet.

  ‘Who was that?’ asked Sue. ‘He had a lovely voice. Very cultured and soothing.’

  ‘My gynaecologist,’ said Kristina wildly, unable to think up anything better on the spur of the moment.

  ‘Really? Give me his name and address! Shall we do those emails then?’

  Kristina gave herself a mental shake. There were hours to go still; hours that she needed to fill with urgent work. She had to push all thoughts of tonight to the back of her mind until later, but although she managed to, she resented doing it because what she really wanted was to enjoy the anticipation of the moment. For the first time in years work was not uppermost in her mind.

  *

  At exactly nine o’clock that night, Kristina stood on the top step outside the address she’d been given and after taking a deep breath, reached out and pressed the doorbell. She heard the faintest echo of chimes from deep inside the house and then the door was opened by a slim Indian girl who looked to be about nineteen. She smiled at Kristina, but didn’t speak. Instead she stepped back and inclined her head in what Kristina assumed to be a gesture of welcome.

  The hall was dark, the mahogany-stained floor highly polished with one large gold and green Persian rug covering the centre, while on the side tables stood expensive porcelain figures, mostly of eastern origin.

  The girl who’d let Kristina in remained standing to one side, her eyes on the floor, and just as Kristina was about to ask if Tarquin was at home he walked out of one of the doors that led off the hallway.

  She’d wondered earlier if he was really as darkly sensual looking as she’d remembered, but the moment he appeared she knew that she hadn’t been wrong; in fact if anything he looked even better tonight.

  Once again he was in a suit, but this time it was dark blue, and the pale blue shirt had an unusual cutaway collar that enabled him to tie a large knot in his blue and red tie. As he smiled and stretched out his hand she saw that he was wearing a large Patek Philippe watch with a bold but simple face to it. Expensive but very tasteful, she thought appreciatively.

  She reached out to take his hand, and it was then that she saw it. Lying in his palm was a tiny gold bracelet with the familiar letter ‘B’ suspended in the middle. ‘For you,’ he said softly. At that moment, for one fleeting second, Kristina hesitated. She wanted to put it on, had dreamt of nothing else since their first meeting, but to actually place herself in this man’s hands was a huge step to take and she felt panic stir in her.

  Tarquin Rashid watched her without expression. The choice had to be hers and hers alone, but he hoped that she wouldn’t back out because he, like Kristina, had anticipated this moment with increasing excitement and desire.

  At last she picked the bracelet up and thought that she heard a slow exhalation of breath from Tarquin, but then she was slipping it on and at the touch of the cool gold on her skin she began to tremble.

  ‘Excellent,’ remarked Tarquin, gesturing for the Indian girl to go up the stairs ahead of them. ‘Now we can begin.’

  Kristina went to follow the girl, but he shook his head. ‘I go next, you follow me,’ he explained. His voice was polite but firm, and she realised that from now on she could do nothing unless he told her to. She was to take no decisions and make no choices, everything that happened this night would be dictated by Tarquin.

  The room that they finally entered was on the third floor, a huge studio-type room with an enormous skylight window. A vast bed set low to the floor dominated the room and behind it was a silk-covered screen. There were pillows and cushions all over the bed’s surface and the room was scented with burning candles set in the four corners. The perfume was subtle yet erotic, with a hint of both jasmine and sandalwood.

  She stood uncertainly on the soft carpet, awaiting Tarquin’s orders. She was still trembling and hoped that it didn’t show. It was ridiculous to be frightened by the situation when she’d chosen it, longed for it, but the fear wasn’t of the man in front of her but of the total loss of control.
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  For what seemed to Kristina to be an endless time he stood two feet away from her studying her carefully, while the Indian girl waited in the background. ‘Tell me what you’re feeling,’ he said at last.

  ‘Excited,’ replied Kristina.

  He moved close to her and put the palms of his hands flat against the sides of her head, his grip firm but not unpleasant. ‘You’re meant to tell the truth,’ he murmured. ‘I don’t like it when people lie to me.’

  Kristina tried to jerk her head away and his eyes widened in surprise. ‘I didn’t tell you to move,’ he reminded her and it was only then that she fully understood the extent of the control he had over her.

  She tried to remain still, and the pressure from his hands eased a little. ‘Tell me how you really feel,’ he suggested, his fingers moving up into her hair and lightly massaging her scalp.

  ‘Rather nervous,’ she admitted.

  ‘Of course; that’s only to be expected. Lydia will undress you now and then give you a bath. After that you will be ready for me.’

  She assumed that Lydia was the girl who’d let her in, and the thought of another woman undressing and washing her wasn’t at all to her liking. Knowing, however, that there was nothing she could do about it she simply remained where she was as Tarquin stepped away from her and the Indian girl took his place.

  Kristina saw that Tarquin was watching closely as the girl began to unfasten the buttons of the lightweight coat-dress that Kristina had worn to the house, but when she tried to help the girl by drawing an arm out of one of the sleeves his voice interrupted her.

  ‘No!’ he said curtly, and he turned his head away slightly in what she recognised as a sign of displeasure.

  Lydia smiled at her. ‘Don’t worry,’ she murmured as she eased the garment off the other woman’s shoulders. ‘The first time is always difficult.’

  Kristina wondered how many other women the girl had seen come to this house.

  Beneath the top garment Kristina was wearing a cream satin body edged with lace and with very high-cut legs. Lydia stepped to one side to allow Tarquin to study Kristina as she stood there before him, feeling her nipples hardening under his gaze until they brushed against the prickly lace. This most delicate of caresses seemed almost unbearably erotic and her stomach drew in on itself with desire, the muscles tightening in anticipation of sexual pleasure.

  Finally Tarquin nodded and Lydia once more stood in front of his visitor. Then, slowly, she knelt on the floor, her slim hands going between Kristina’s thighs as they tried to unfasten the press-studs set there.

  Lydia’s fingers were light and practised, and as she undid the studs she let the pads of them trail over the cotton gusset of the garment, lightly caressing Kristina’s outer sex lips beneath the material. The touch was brief, almost imperceptible, and yet Kristina heard her breath catch and felt her thighs start to shake with longing for more pressure, for Tarquin’s hands at last to touch her there at the very centre of her pleasure.

  If he was aware of Kristina’s feelings the dark-haired man didn’t show it. His eyes remained unfathomable and his expression sombre. From the look on his face Kristina felt that she could just as easily have been a patient who was posing a problem as a woman he intended to make love to.

  Now Lydia moved behind Kristina and very slowly she eased the thin straps off her shoulders and let them fall down the sides of her arms, the material again teasingly brushing her flesh which was now starting to burn all over her body as though from some inner heat. Finally the entire garment was eased upwards and over her head. As Lydia pulled on it she allowed her hands to cup the undersides of Kristina’s small but rapidly swelling breasts and once again Kristina was pierced with need for physical contact with the stranger standing so near and yet so far away.

  Now she was totally naked and Lydia gestured for her to follow her out through a door set in the side of the room, but before she could obey Tarquin moved up to her again. Very slowly he put out a hand and to her astonishment he covered her eyes so that she couldn’t see what he was doing. Suddenly his mouth was on hers and his tongue was parting her lips, thrusting in and out in an imitation of the sexual act that only fired her already fevered imagination all the more. Without thinking she moved towards him, her hips trying to brush against his upper leg or groin.

  At once he stopped kissing her, uncovered her eyes and stepped away. ‘I didn’t tell you to move,’ he reminded her in a detached voice that was in startling contrast to the sexual urgency that she’d sensed in the kiss. ‘It seems that you find the rules of the society difficult to obey.’

  Kristina didn’t answer, feeling certain that even to speak uninvited would be wrong. At her silence he nodded in approval. ‘Before the bath I will remind you of two things. One, if you wish the bathing to stop, remove the bracelet but you must then return home. Two, I do not want you to speak or indeed make any kind of sound during the bath. The time for such communication is later, when I choose. Please indicate your understanding by nodding your head.’

  The frustration of not even being allowed to vocalise her agreement was unbelievable and also incredibly arousing. Normally Kristina had to make sure that she explained everything several times over. Her entire business life was made up of communication and now here was a man refusing to allow her any form of communication. She wondered if this was how Laurence behaved with Jacqueline, but then guessed that it probably wasn’t. All the men, like the women they chose, were bound to be very different. At this moment she was very glad she’d been chosen by Tarquin.

  ‘Well?’ he sounded impatient and she realised that she’d been day-dreaming. Hastily she nodded, and he then indicated that she should follow Lydia through into the adjoining bathroom.

  The bath, like the bed, was huge and so full that when Kristina lowered herself into the water it rose almost to the top. The bath was scented but there were no soap bubbles and when Tarquin seated himself at the foot of the bath he was able to see every inch of Kristina’s body.

  Lydia put a bath mitten on her right hand, poured some liquid soap on to it and then began to gently rub at Kristina’s back, moving her hand in small circular movements that both cleansed and stimulated the skin.

  When she moved her hand a little and started to use it beneath Kristina’s breasts, Kristina looked directly into Tarquin’s eyes, but because they were so deep-set and he was sitting in shadow it wasn’t possible for her to make out the expression in them. She hoped that he liked what he was seeing and was just about to sit up straighter, pulling back her shoulders to emphasise her small breasts, when she remembered that he hadn’t asked her to move and she managed to prevent herself from moving at all, congratulating herself on her self-control.

  Lydia worked swiftly but carefully, and when she started to soap the breasts themselves she removed the mitten and used only her bare hands. She deliberately teased the pale pink nipples a little and as the soap dried round them the hardened tips felt cold despite the warmth of the room.

  ‘Crouch on your hands and knees,’ said Tarquin softly. ‘Keep your legs as far apart as the bath allows. Lydia needs to be able to cleanse every part of you.’

  For the first time since she’d entered the house, Kristina didn’t want to obey. The idea of opening herself in such a way to another woman, allowing the Indian girl’s fingers access to her most private place, was both shocking and in a way degrading. At the same time, though, she could feel her pulse quickening with excitement and with only the slightest hesitation she scrambled into the position Tarquin had requested and let her head hang down so that she was looking into the bath water and not his face as she was washed between her thighs.

  She felt the girl’s fingers slide between her legs from behind her, and then her pubic hair was being soaped and the massaging movements caused Kristina’s highly aroused body to start to open so that her outer lips expanded. Now Lydia’s fingers were moving along the inner tissue until quite unexpectedly they glided over the slowly swell
ing clitoris and Kristina gave a gasp of delight as a spark of hot pleasure flared in her lower belly.

  ‘I told you to remain silent,’ said Tarquin, disappointment clear in his voice. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  Kristina swallowed hard, wondering how she could possibly vocalise what had just occurred. ‘I’m sorry, but Lydia touched … That is, her fingers brushed …’

  ‘For a literary agent you seem to be having great difficulty with words,’ he laughed. ‘Please explain accurately what happened.’

  Kristina bit on her bottom lip with irritation at herself, but even as she tried to find the words Lydia’s fingers repeated the movement and this time lingered a second longer so that there was a slow coiling movement of pleasure deep inside Kristina’s abdomen and again she gasped.

  ‘Tell me,’ repeated Tarquin insistently.

  ‘Her fingers keep touching my clitoris!’ gasped Kristina. ‘It makes me feel wonderful and I can’t control my breathing when it happens.’

  ‘Then we must teach you better control during the course of the evening,’ he commented.

  She felt herself start trembling again at the words, and suddenly Lydia stepped away from her and Tarquin held up a large bath towel. ‘Time to get out of there. I will dry you.’ She expected a slow, sensuous towelling but it was brief and hurried, and she still felt slightly damp when he put one large hand on the back of her neck and pushed her in the direction of the bedroom again.

  ‘Now we will really begin,’ he murmured. She felt the bracelet caress her wrist as though it was reminding her that she was still bound to obey him and her only pleasure would be the pleasure that he allowed her.

  Leading her to the foot of the bed, Tarquin then opened the intricately carved door of a wardrobe and drew out a turquoise satin kaftan which he draped round the passive Kristina. It was unlike any other kaftan she’d seen, with a high mandarin-style collar that fastened quite tightly round her neck with a velcro strip and then hung open down the front. The sleeves were conventional, long and wide, but when Tarquin’s hands turned her towards a mirror set in the wall on the opposite side of the room and then gently pushed her forwards she saw that with every step she took the garment parted, revealing tantalising glimpses of various parts of her body before closing around her again.