A Class Apart (15 page)

But Kate had other ideas, and finally Joel had to give in and accept that there was to be no more sleep for him. Not yet anyway. It would be easier if he were like other men, those who awoke with an erection. But he had never been good first thing in the morning.

He sighed, and turned to face her. The look in her eyes confirmed all he had suspected. Some women were never satisfied. But he had to admit that the idea was beginning to grow on him, so to speak.

“Something you want?” he whispered.

She nodded.

“I thought so.” Holy shit, the way she was looking at him he could do anything with her. His mouth twisted into a smile. “Just what exactly did you have in mind?”

“This,” she said, taking him in her hand, and feeling him begin to grow.

“Oh,” he said, looking into her eyes.

She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth, but his arms remained folded across his chest.

“Is there something in particular that you would like to do with it?” he asked.

“Whatever you would like me to do with it.”

He really was beginning to wake up now. He didn’t know her well enough yet, but she would soon catch on to what he wanted.

“What about here?” he said, pushing his fingers between her legs.

She gasped, and nodded.

“Then ask me.”

She looked confused.

“Ask me to put it there,” he said.

“Please will you put it there,” she said softly.

“Beg me!” he murmured, closing his eyes.

She couldn’t do as he said.

“Beg me!” he said again.

She swallowed, and opened her mouth to speak.

His eyes were gleaming as he looked at her. “You want it, you beg for it.”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

He pushed his fingers into her. “Come on,” he said. “Tell me just how much you want it. Let me hear you beg.”

He was becoming harder and harder now. This kind of talk, or was it power over women, never failed to turn him on. Especially with a woman like Kate Calloway. So refined and proper.

“Please!” she said.

“Please what?”

“Please will you make love to me?”

“You mean, will I fuck you?”

She nodded, her cheeks were crimson.

“Then say it?”

He heard her swallow.

“Go on,” he said, his eyes burning. “Ask me to fuck you.”

“Will you fuck me?”

He rolled over on top of her, and pushed into her. “Ask me again!” he cried. “Go on, beg me, beg me to fuck you, hard!”

She said nothing, but clung to him, as he thrust himself against her.

“Tell me how it feels,” he said, his voice unsteady.

“It feels good,” she sobbed, and began to move with him.

His love-making was fierce, and he rolled her over and over, pushing her and pulling her, squeezing her breasts, bruising her mouth with his kisses. He rolled onto his back and pulled her onto him again.

“Ride me!” he growled.

By now Kate could feel her inhibitions fleeing. His mouth was a thin line of aggression, his eyes blazed with lust. She leaned forward and placing a hand either side of him she rode him with all her might.

“Speak!” he yelled. “Say something to me.”

She chose the richest vocabulary she knew, and screamed it into his face. He caught her by the hair, and threw her onto her back. His mouth was almost cruel as he pressed it to hers. She arched her back, and clawed her nails across his buttocks. His fingers dug cruelly into her shoulders and he cried out to God as finally he was spent.

Soaked in his own perspiration, he rolled over onto his back, covering his eyes with his arm, and breathing heavily. She put her arms round him, and looked into his face, but he didn’t move.

The spasms inside her body were beginning to ease, and she waited for him to regain his breath before he spoke. “You know,” she whispered, “last night. Last night was the first time for me in over a year.”

He didn’t hide his surprise. “A year?” he said, but he didn’t lift his arm from his eyes. “That’s a long time for anyone, especially a woman who fucks like you.”

She wished he would lift his arm. “I suppose you could say I was saving myself,” she said.

This time he raised his arm and looked up into her face. He wasn’t smiling; on the contrary, he looked almost angry. “Then all I can say is I hope it was worth waiting for.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, it was.”

He looked at his watch. Alarm bells were starting in his head, and he knew he would do well to get out of here fast. She was serious, she really had been saving herself. Holy shit! Why him?

“Would you like some breakfast?” she said quickly.

“I think it’s time I was going.”

“So soon?” she said. “After all, it is Christmas Eve.”

“What difference does that make?”

“None, I suppose. But do you have to rush off?”

“I’ve got a lot to do today. Still got presents to buy.” He pulled himself up from the bed.

“What about some coffee then?”

“No thanks, haven’t got time. Where are my clothes?”

“Where you left them.”

He scratched his head.

“In the drawing room.”

“Oh yes,” and he left the room.

Kate stayed beside the bed and watched him go, furious and humiliated. A few minutes later she heard him whistling in the lounge as he pulled on his clothes. She slipped on her robe and went to stand in the doorway.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” he said, when he saw her watching him.

“I’m going down to my parents, this afternoon.”

“Oh.” He sat down on the settee to pull on his socks.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Going to my brother’s in Hampstead.”

“How super.”

He didn’t know if she was being sarcastic or not. People like her often used the strangest and most unsuitable vocabulary. “Where’s the nearest Underground?”

“South Kensington. Go to the end of the street into Fulham Road and turn right,” she said, deliberately directing him in the opposite direction to the Tube, and she flounced back into the bedroom. Of all the rotten bastards! She had never felt quite so used in her life. How dare he just come here, fuck her and leave? Treat her as though she was some common pick-up. Men! She hated them!

“Let yourself out,” she called. “I’m going to have a bath.” She slammed the bathroom door, and locked it. Two could play at this game.

She turned on the taps, and sat on the edge of the bath, feeling utterly miserable. She had really liked him. OK, he was a bastard, but that made him more of a challenge. Besides, she had wanted to talk to him about her novel. They could have more in common than sex, if only he would give it a chance. And now she would probably never hear from him again. She felt cheap. Men could put it wherever they pleased, then just pass on to the next one. Didn’t they realize that for women it was different?

She heard a tap on the door, and looked up.

“Kate!”

Be thankful for small mercies, she thought, at least he remembers my name. “Yah,” she answered, and began to hum.

Can I come in?”

“What do you want?”

“To say goodbye.”

Well, what was the harm? She unlocked the door and opened it a fraction.

“Bye,” she said, and started to close it again.

He jammed his foot against it. “Is that all?”

“Is that all what?”

“All that I’m going to get?”

“Exactly what else did you have in mind?”

“Well, I thought perhaps a kiss.”

She let go of the door, and turned back to the bath. She knew she was being weak, but she couldn’t help herself.

Joel watched her as she leaned over to turn off the taps. He was sorry now for having been so abrupt with her. He turned her to face him. “I think I’ll call a taxi,” he said. “So how about that coffee before I go?”

“There’s a phone beside the bed,” she snapped. “I expect you noticed it when you were in it, last night.”

“Kate, come on, don’t be like that. I thought we had a good thing going here.”

“Oh really?”

“Didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“Look, I’ll give you a call over Christmas. Arrange to meet up when you get back to London. How’s that?”

“How the Almighty doth bestow favours,” she mumbled.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing. I’ll write my number down for you. When will you ring?” God, did she have no pride?

“Tomorrow, wish you Happy Christmas, eh?”

“Promise?” This was called grovelling.

“Promise,” he said, and tipped her face up to his. “Do I get a kiss then?”

She smiled, and put her arms round his neck.

“I’ll go and call a cab,” he said as he let her go.

She followed him into the bedroom, and jotted her parents’ number onto a piece of paper.

“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll make the coffee.”

“A man in the kitchen. What one’s always wanted.”

He hardly had time to drink it before Mrs Adams was at the door asking if she could borrow some milk. She forced her way into the flat in her usual inexorable fashion, and looked disapprovingly at Joel as he lifted the entryphone to speak to the taxi driver who had arrived downstairs.

Kate almost pushed Mrs Adams out of the flat. “Here’s your coat,” she said to Joel, slipping her telephone number into the pocket.

Joel swallowed the remainder of his coffee and put the cup back on the table. “Thanks for a great time,” he said, brushing his mouth against hers.

“Bye,” she said. “Don’t forget to ring me tomorrow.” But he had already gone.

Ellamarie rang Ashley at the office to tell her how Maureen Woodley had shown up at the Ritz after she’d left, in a dress that was two sizes too small, and a slit up to her waist.

“Cellulite, darling, she looked like a Jaffa.”

Ashley laughed, but she sensed the misgiving in Ellamarie’s voice when she told her that Maureen Woodley had decided after all this time to let it drop that she knew Bob’s wife.

“You don’t think she’ll do anything though, do you?” Ashley asked.

Ellamarie was graphic in her explanation of what she would do to Maureen Woodley if she did, and then changed the subject to Kate who had taken Joel back to her apartment, “desire bursting from every orifice. And I’ve just called Jenneen, and you’ll never guess who’s there with her? Matthew. Matthew Bordsleigh.”

“But I thought it was all long over between those two.”

“Didn’t we all? But he’s there all right. He answered the phone.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Ashley sighed. None of them knew how Matthew had been ruthlessly blackmailing Jenneen for the past year.

“Everything OK your end?” said Ellamarie.

“Oh, perfect,” said Ashley, knowing she sounded bitter.

“That reminds me, Julian’s friend, or partner, whoever he is . . .”

“Blanche’s cousin,” Ashley interjected.

“Blanche’s cousin. Well, he took Maureen Woodley home last night. At least I think he did. He chose the right person of course, – if that’s what you can call her – Maureen’s a helluva good massager of egoes, and with one the size of his they were probably at it all night long.”

Their conversation was brief as Ellamarie was in a hurry, but she had wanted to make sure Ashley was all right after her early departure from the Ritz the night before.

Ashley managed to assure her that she was, then when she rung off went back to the media plan she had been studying. Half an hour later she was through and gathered up her things to leave. She looked around the office. It was in this room that Julian had first . . . No! Stop it! Just get out of here before you start again. Quickly she picked up her coat and left the room.

“Merry Christmas!” she called to Amanda, as she passed her office.

“Merry Christmas, Ashley!” Amanda called back. “Have a great time!”

“You too,” said Ashley. She turned to walk on, and someone crashed into her, sending her bag and the files she was carrying cascading all over the floor.

“Can’t you look where you’re going?” she heard a voice growl.

She whipped round. “Well, of all the . . .”

“Of all the what?” said Conrad Frazier, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Nothing,” she said, slamming her eyes at him. She stooped to gather her belongings, but not before she had noticed his dishevelled appearance and the growth on his chin. So, Ellamarie was right.

To her amazement, he walked right on past her. “Aren’t you at least going to help me pick this lot up?” she called after him.

“No,” he said.

She was so shocked by his rudeness, she couldn’t think of a thing to say. And then suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, she burst into tears.

“What’s all the noise out here?” said Julian, coming out of his office. He didn’t notice Ashley. “Conrad,” she heard him say. And then he chuckled. “Well, by the look of you, old chap, it was quite some night last night.”

“I’ve known worse,” Conrad answered.

“Ashley!” Julian suddenly cried. She froze. Please don’t come over. Please don’t say anything, she begged him silently.

“What are you doing down there?”

“Picking up the things that Mr Frazier knocked out of my hands,” she said, not looking up.

“Let me help you.” Julian crossed the room.

“No, no. It’s all right. I’ve got everything now.” She stood up, running the back of her hand across her eyes.

Julian saw straightaway that she was crying. He turned to Conrad. “What’s happened?”

“She came crashing into me,” he said. “Though what she’s crying for I can’t imagine.” And then, for the first time, he got a good look at Ashley’s face. “Oh God,” he groaned, as he recognized her. “Look, I’m sorry. It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”