The Maestro (19 page)

'When it was
all over he turned to me and said that he wanted sketches of what I
had just witnessed to be drawn immediately. I was grateful that my
ordeal was over. I thought I could escape from the room, go back to
my apartment and bring myself the release that Delgado wouldn't
permit me. But instead he insisted that I did them then right in
front of him.'

'It was
another torture?' Linda asked.

'A terrible
torture, because not only had the pressure built up inside me and
it was terrible, but also I had to relive everything that I had
just witnessed, but secondly the two girls were still naked in the
room.

'Delgado sat
beside them on the mat, stroking them, caressing them gently,
asking them if they were all right, asking Avril if she understood
what he had meant, asking Veronique if he thought he might have
improved her art, and if their relationship would be okay now that
this had happened. The two girls nodded and smiled, like two
pussycats, agreeing with everything that Delgado said.'

'This must
have made you angry considering how satisfied they were and how you
felt.'

'It did, of
course it did, but I realised something else.'

'What was
that?'

'The sheer
power of the man. I wouldn't even call him a man. There is
something totally demonic about him, not only the way that he can
control people like me. I'm young and I suppose more susceptible to
that kind of thing, but I look at strong women like you and
Veronique and I see how you all fall under his spell. There is a
terrible power about him. You think he uses it to create, but if he
ever used it to destroy then that would be frightening.'

'But so far he
hasn't.'

'Not yet, or
at least not as far as we know,' Rebecca said ominously.

'Is that why
you are running away?'

'Yes. I want
to go back to my nice little English life with my boyfriend and get
a nice little middle-class job. You're right, he has opened my
perception to things but it frightens me.'

'Do you still
have the sketches?'

'Yes, would
you like to see them? My flat is only two minutes' walk.'

'I'd love
too.' Linda had been aroused by the tale. The thought of going back
to Rebecca's flat was very enticing. One last great adventure for
the girl before returning to the Home Counties.

After Linda had paid the bill they made their way up the steep
incline away from the sea and towards Rebecca's apartment. As they
stopped at the traffic lights, Rebecca turned to Linda. You know I
don't think your time on
piso
tercero
is going to be so long. He's
getting very pally with Veronique.'

The thought
stung Linda as it had done earlier when Rebecca had mentioned the
Swiss girl before her. She shouldn't be so surprised, she told
herself. It was another trick, another little bit of scheming by
Delgado, that ability in whatever way to make everybody he came
into contact with, feel special. But maybe it didn't matter. She
was more confident about her art than she had ever been in her
life, and grateful to Delgado though she was, she knew her own
artist future lay firmly in her own hands now.

Back in the
flat, Rebecca showed her the sketches. She saw the beautiful Avril
tethered to the chair; she saw Veronique licking the bound girl,
and then standing up as the figure of Delgado removed her clothes.
She saw the girls lying prone on the mat. She remembered the story
that Rebecca had told her vividly as she could recall her own
experience with the maestro. She remembered how Rebecca had turned
her on that day, and she turned to her, wanting to taste her, to
touch her, to bring her to the orgasm that she never had watching
the two French girls. She turned to where she had flopped onto the
bed behind her, but found she had fallen asleep.

A couple of
days later, Delgado called at the same time he usually did. They
talked about the progress she had made with her work since the last
time he had seen her. He was even more complimentary than he
usually was, telling her that he was getting a clear idea of what
she was attempting to do, and that more importantly, so was
she.

Thinking that
they would go out for their usual bottle or two of wine, she went
to change from her work clothes.

'I can't go
tonight, Linda.'

'No?'

'I have
another engagement.'

'Fine.'

'Linda, I have
a proposition for you.'

'Yes?'

'I can see how
you have incorporated the colours of my country into your
paintings, into your very ideas, but there are other colours.'

'What do you
mean?'

'I thought you
might like to look at some different scenery.'

'Where?'

'I have a
little place a hundred or so kilometres inland, past Poblet. It's
beautiful hilly countryside and it's much cooler than here. You
will be totally alone there but I think that could only benefit
your paintings. There is a time to live and to pour your life into
your work but there is also a time when life itself almost becomes
a distraction from your art. Do you understand?'

She understood
perfectly well. She was being banished to the countryside because
Delgado wanted to install his new protégé in there. She didn't say
any of this, however, thinking that maybe Delgado was right, that a
retreat into the peace and cool of the countryside might be exactly
what she needed at this stage. In a month she thought that she
would probably be ready to show. She needed at least a month.

'How long
for?'

'For as long
as you want, as long as it takes. I don't want you to come back
here until you can fill a gallery with your paintings. When you
think you are ready call me, and I'll contact some friends and
we'll see about getting you an exhibition. I don't think it will be
so hard.'

And so she was
packed off into the interior of Catalunya. The place was quite
large, but with no electricity, and it was as remote as Delgado had
implied. The nearest village was some seven kilometres away. She
would go there in the evening after the sun went down. She didn't
want to waste any natural light. But there was no shortage of
artist's materials. Delgado seemed to have purposely left some
gigantic canvasses for her.

At first she
enjoyed the peace and the calm of the area and she certainly
appreciated the cool of the higher land. There was most definitely
a spiritual atmosphere about the place, and when she wasn't working
she liked to go for strolls around the hills outside her wood
cabin.

She threw
herself into her painting, finding it was actually easier for her
to achieve the affects that she wished without going through the
agonised struggle that she had gone through when she had still been
staying above Delgado's studio.

But it was a
call from Sebastian - the one luxury she had retained was her
mobile phone - which started to unsettle her. After getting the
message from Alfonso not to contact him, she had decided she would
wait to see if he contacted her. He was effusive in his apologies,
explaining that the crazy film director they were with had insisted
that they go and live in the jungle for two weeks to discuss the
film they were about to make, and they had not been allowed to call
anyone.

She listened
to everything he said carefully. The jokey charm was still there,
making her feel a deep nostalgia for their life in London that
seemed to have happened a lifetime ago. For the first time since
she had begun working in Delgado's studio she started to have
serious doubts about what she was doing and her love for Sebastian.
She noticed a certain forced artificiality in his voice and even
the declarations of love he effusively gave her, no longer meant
the same to her, and she wondered whether they did to Sebastian.
Her life, she knew had changed irrevocably.

She also made
another exception to her self-imposed exile, and that was to
contact Alfonso. He was now back in Barcelona, although he was
going to be off to New York to see some clients. He wanted to come
to see her, but she said it was impossible. He sounded
disappointed. He told her he had at least three galleries waiting
to see her work. He said he had really been singing her praises,
and that as soon as she had enough for an exhibition she should
show him her work.

With immense
effort and dedication she finished twenty-five canvases in three
weeks. The day after all her work was complete she did nothing but
rest in bed, her limbs ached with the sheer physical exertion of
painting and she felt emotionally and intellectually drained, but
she had never been more proud of anything she had done in her
life.

The next day
she contacted Alfonso, but he was in Frankfurt. However he arranged
for a van to be sent to collect her and the paintings. She was so
grateful: now that her present work was complete she wanted to get
back to the city she loved as soon as possible.

The paintings
were to be stored at Alfonso's. She couldn't very well go back and
expect Delgado to put her up again so she booked into the same
hotel she had done when she first arrived in Barcelona.

She rang
Maria, but she could not reach her. She thought about calling
Delgado, but something held her back. She thought it best to wait.
Strangely the person she had dreamt about most during the last
couple of days, at least sexually, had not been Delgado at all, but
Suzanne.

She remembered
a very daring plan she had first thought about as she and Alfonso
had left the bar that night.

Alfonso had
told her one interesting piece of gossip about Paco and Suzanne,
something that she had harboured in her mind for a long time.
Whenever she thought about it, it made her feel wicked. Alfonso
told her that on Tuesday nights Suzanne took a class in
bookkeeping. Suzanne had told Alfonso that she knew that as soon as
she had gone out the door, Paco would shut up the bar and go
upstairs and watch television, even though when he went out to
watch the football he would forbid her to do the same thing.

In theory it
wouldn't be a difficult thing to do as Alfonso had even told her
what college she studied at; in practice there were all sorts of
things that could go wrong. Still, she would try.

This was why
after showering and putting on her sexiest underwear and a
beautiful white satin dress with thin shoulder straps, that fell to
just below her knees, and adorning the ensemble with a necklace of
pearls, she was hiding in a doorway, waiting for Suzanne to leave.
She knew that if Paco was as prompt as Alfonso had indicated she
would only have a minute.

Her heart
raced as she stood, frightened that Suzanne might see her,
frightened in case the bar closed before she could enter. And there
was Suzanne dressed in a bright scarlet skirt and a white satin
blouse. Maybe there was somebody in her bookkeeping class that she
wanted to start an affair with.

As soon as she
had walked ten paces in the opposite direction, Linda crept into
the bar. Paco was already walking towards the door, and Linda
suspected was just about to tell her that the bar was closed, when
he noticed how beautiful she looked.

His eyes roved
around her body, taking in the delectable curves of her breasts,
the rounded hips, the nape of her neck, and the ash-blond shoulder
length hair.

'Yes madam,'
he said trying to impress her with his English. Maybe he had
recognised her from that time Alfonso had brought her in, or maybe
she just looked so obviously English. 'You like to take a
drink?'

'Yes please,'
she said, her eyes beaming at the barman. She sat on a round black
leather bar stool, brazenly hitching up her skirt a couple of
inches so that Paco could get a meaty view of her legs over the
granite-topped bar.

'What would
you like?' he said, pleased with knowing he was using the correct
English.

'A gin tonic
please.'

'Certainly.'
There was something quite oleaginous about the man. His thick chest
and the hard callused hands bespoke of a powerful sexuality, but in
the same way as Delgado, something repulsed her about him, but the
repulsion somehow added to his sexual appeal. The gusset of her
panties was already wet.

He placed a
glass along the table, a quarter full of ice and poured a large
measure of gin inside it.

'I'm so hot,'
she said sexily, watching a perceptible eyebrow raise.

'Yes, is very hot in...
verano
,' said Paco, struggling to find
the correct English word.

'Summer.'

'
Si
, summer.'
She liked his square jaw, imagined him going down on her, licking
her clitoris, or tongue fucking her.

She hitched up
her skirt so that Paco could glimpse the smallest edge of her white
lace panties in the triangle of shadow her dress cast onto her
thighs.

She knew how
quick she had to be. She reached up and touched the sweaty palm of
his hand.

'You have such
strong hands.'

'
Gracias senora
,' he said relapsing into Spanish, shocked by having such a
beautiful woman compliment him.

Linda noted
his surprise as she gazed into his eyes, thinking what a stupid man
he was when he had such a fantastic looking wife.

'Are you
alone?' she mischievously asked him.

'Yes I am
alone.'

'Mmm.' She
felt as if she was in some bad pornographic film. There was nothing
sophisticated about this erotic game, no battle of wills, nothing.
Anyway, she figured that a macho man as Paco would appreciate such
an obvious approach.

She moved her
fingers away from his hand and placed them on the meat of her
thigh.