The Ninety Days of Genevieve (27 page)

'Why should he come to us now? This Japanese thing is going to put him in the big league.' Martin Ingrave, one of the account managers, perched on Genevieve's desk. 'I thought it was a bit odd when he approached us in the first place. We're small-fry compared to Randle-Mayne, and even Lucci's.

'Sinclair likes Barringtons/ Genevieve answered.

'I reckon he must like Lucci's too/ Martin said. 'He certainly likes Jade Chalfont, anyway. I mean, he took her to Japan with him, didn't he?'

'Martin,' Genevieve said irritably. 'I know that.'

Martin leaned forward confidentially. 'She does this kendo thing/ he said. 'I reckon Sinclair might find that interesting. I've heard he likes dominant women. The kind of women who kick men around. Kinky types, you know?'

Genevieve stared at Martin in genuine surprise. 'Well, that's not what I've heard/ she said.

'Lots of people think he's having a fling with Chalfont/ Martin said. 'And you couldn't get more dominant than a swordswoman, could you?'

'Lots of people don't know what they're talking about/ Genevieve snapped.

'Do I detect a little jealousy here?' Martin grinned. 'Fancy him yourself, do you?'

'He's a prospective client/ she said. And lied: 'I don't mix business with pleasure.'

'Sounds to me as if you'd like to.'

'Sounds to me', she said coldly, 'as if you're asking for a punch on the nose. And get your behind off my desk.'

'Wow!' Martin pantomimed a kiss. 'You're beautiful when you're angry. Why don't you try that approach with Sinclair? It might turn him on.'

But I do turn him on, Genevieve thought, as she made her way to Georgie's by taxi. I wonder why? I don't conform to any of the types believed to attract him. Why did he choose me? She remembered he had once told her she was a highly sexed woman waiting to be liberated. Looking back on the last couple of months she had to agree that he was probably right. But how did he know that? she thought. I didn't even know it myself.

Georgie answered Genevieve's knock. This time her T~ shirt said: Trees not Tarmac! Her workroom was still as cluttered and untidy as Genevieve remembered, and still smelled sexily of leather. The zipped suit had gone. Now the tailor's dummy wore a complex creation with narrow straps and buckles growing like a spider's web from a front-laced basque.

'Nice isn't it?' Georgie noticed her interest and turned the dummy round. 'It'll look even better on a real body. This customer is turned on by straps.'

'How odd/ Genevieve said.

'It isn't odd at all.' Georgie traced one of the straps with a finger. 'This is really a sex map. All the lines actually go somewhere. Men love that. Why do you think they all like seamed stockings?'

Genevieve laughed. 'There's a world of difference between a man liking seamed stockings and getting turned on by a kinky bondage outfit.'

'Not so much of the kinky.' Georgie pretended to be annoyed. 'This is more normal than you might think. Let's face it, a plain naked body soon gets boring. It needs dressing up. And plain sex gets boring too. Fantasy helps to keep it fresh. You must believe that, or you wouldn't come here.' She added slyly: 'You liked the corset I made for you, didn't you?'

'It wasn't my choice/ Genevieve said quickly.

'That's what you say.'

'It really wasn't,' Genevieve protested.

'You enjoyed wearing it, didn't you? You enjoyed the idea that it was turning your fella on?'

'I had to wear it.'

'What do you mean "had to"?' Georgie grinned. 'Did someone point a gun at your head?'

'I have this sort of - agreement/ Genevieve hedged. 'With my - friend.'

'So you're into playing games/ Georgie nodded. 'Aren't we all? Fun, isn't it?' She searched for, and found, a tape measure. 'You'll have to take your jacket off. And your skirt.' When Genevieve stared at her in obvious surprise, she added: 'The order was for a dress and boots. I'll need to measure your legs.' She watched as Genevieve unbuttoned her coat, and slipped out of her skirt. 'I can probably alter a standard boot for you. It'll be a bit cheaper than custom-made. You've got really nicely-shaped legs.'

Genevieve suddenly remembered that Georgie was a lesbian. 'Thank you,' she said, rather more abruptly than she intended.

Georgie stood up and grinned at her cheekily. 'Don't look so worried. I'm not going to rape you.'

Genevieve blushed. 'I'm sorry. That wasn't what I was thinking.'

'That's the trouble with you straights,' Georgie said. 'You think gays are all raving sex maniacs.' She began to take measurements, with professional efficiency. 'I don't go around wondering what every woman I meet is like in bed. If it happens, it happens. Actually you're not my type. Too feminine.'

'I've got nothing against gays,' Genevieve said.

'Lots of your best friends are lesbians?' Georgie challenged.

'Well, I don't know,' Genevieve admitted. 'It's not something you go around telling everyone, is it?'

'That's the point,' Georgie persisted. 'People don't talk about it, and thafs why everyone gets these peculiar ideas. I bet you'd be ashamed to introduce me as a lesbian to your friends. I bet you'd be ashamed to go into a lesbian club.'

Genevieve thought about Bridget. She was tempted to confide in Georgie about it, but wondered if Georgie would be discreet with the information. And was Bridget really a lesbian, or just a professional who would put on any kind of performance for money?

'I wouldn't be ashamed at all,' she said.

'You've been to hundreds of gay clubs!' Georgie mocked.

'I wouldn't even know where to find one,' Genevieve said, which was true. "They don't put "Lesbians Only" on a sign outside, do they.'

'I'd take you to a club,' Georgie offered. 'Would you come? See how the other half lives?' When Genevieve hesitated she added: 'We don't dance around naked, prodding each other with big rubber dildos. And I wouldn't take you to The Cupboard. Thafs a bit specialised. Just a place with a nice friendly atmosphere and some decent wine.'

Genevieve smiled suddenly.

'AH right. When?'

'I'll be working late for a few nights/ Georgie said. 'But I'll give you my number. You can ring me and I'll arrange something. If you don't ring I'll know you've had second thoughts. No hard feelings if you do.'

'What about your girlfriend? Won't she be jealous?'

'She won't be there/ Georgie grinned. 'She's on a management course. But she wouldn't mind anyway. You're straight, aren't you? And like I said, you're not my type.'

When she first unpacked Georgie's outfit Genevieve thought she had been sent a conventional dress, but when she held it up she realised that this beautifully crafted leather creation was certainly not a design you could wear in the street. It was sleeveless, with a scoop neck that curved well below her breasts. There were thin chains attached to rings across the neckline, and this time Genevieve knew exactly how this adornment was to be fitted.

The dress was almost literally backless. A leather strap formed a thin belt, another ran down between her buttocks, and two more looped under them, drawing black lines that emphasised her curves. The straps could be attached to studs on the front of the skirt, pulling in tight against her thighs.

The parcel also contained a pair of elbow-length leather gloves, and a pair of boots. They were close fitting and laced from the toes to high above her knees, and had stiletto heels so high that once she was wearing them she would be practically standing on tiptoe. The platform soles would make it even more difficult to balance. They were far more extreme than any previous footwear Sinclair had arranged for her. When she finally laced them and stood up she felt as if she was tipping forward. Georgie had thoughtfully included some padding in the toes, but Genevieve wondered if she would actually get down the stairs and into the car without falling over. She also wondered what her neighbours would think if they saw her. Once again she was thankful that she lived in an apartment block where most of the tenants returned to their country homes and their families at the weekends.

She practised wearing the boots and was surprised to find that that once she adjusted the way she moved, she could walk without pitching forward or tripping over. She had to take tiny steps. Like a geisha, she thought. It was not a comparison she wanted to dwell on. When she thought about geishas she thought about Sinclair enjoying himself in Japan.

She thought about him with a beautifully costumed Japanese girl kneeling at his feet, removing his shoes. She thought about him in a dark kimono following the girl to a deep bath. She thought about them together, naked, the girl washing his back, giggling. She thought about them later, stretched out on a futon, making love. Sinclair exploring the girl's body with his mouth. The girl working expertly on him with hers, sliding her lips up and down the length of his penis until his body jolted with an orgasmic shock. Then the geisha changed, and became Jade Chalfont, and Genevieve realised that her thoughts were no longer just fantasy. They were painfully near to possible fact. The thought both depressed and angered her, and even Sinclair's voice later on the phone, arranging their meeting time, did nothing to cheer her up.

He arrived outside her flat almost to the minute and hooted. She put on the fur coat over her dress and negotiated the stairs on her impossible heels without too much trouble. Sinclair watched from the driving seat as she walked towards the car.

'I hope you're dressed correctly,' he said. She opened the fur coat briefly. 'Very nice,' he approved. 'Turn round.'

At the start of their agreement she would have questioned him. Now she did not bother. The streets were empty. The Mercedes stood under a pool of light from a street lamp.

'Lift the coat/ he said abruptly. 'You know what I want to see.'

Once again she did not bother to argue. She turned, and gathered the skirt of her coat to one side, and stood with her legs slightly apart. She could almost feel the movement of his eyes stroking the curve of her buttocks.

'Very nice/ he said. He pushed open the car door. 'Get in.'

She settled beside him and the Mercedes moved smoothly away from the kerb. She glanced sideways at him. He was as immaculate as ever in a dark suit, but this time he wore a black polo neck instead of his usual shirt and silk tie.

'Why am I the one who always has to dress up?' she asked.

'Because I paid for your outfit/ he said. 'So I think I'm entitled to show it off.' He paused. 'Do you want to back out?'

'Certainly not/ she said sharply.

He laughed. 'Business comes first, doesn't it? As always.' He drove silently for a few minutes. 'And you're lucky/ he added. 'I was going to get Georgie to make you a real bondage corset. Then you would have had something to complain about.'

'I thought I already had one/ she said. She saw his teeth flash briefly white in the shadows.

'That was fancy dress/ he said. 'The real thing would have to be tailor-made. It would give you the kind of waistline you've always dreamed about. A real hourglass figure. It would have straps and buckles to truss you up, and immobilise you. You'd move only when I let you move. And it would be
very
uncomfortable. You'd love it.'

'What makes you think I like being uncomfortable?' she asked.

'You like feeling helpless/ he said.

'I most certainly do not.'

'You most certainly do/ he said. 'Not in real life. But here, with me. Haven't you learned to accept and enjoy your sexual nature yet?'

'I do as I'm told when I'm with you/ she said coolly, 'because that was our agreement. Enjoyment doesn't come into it.'

'And you haven't enjoyed any of it?' he mocked. 'Well, congratulations. You're a very good actress. You certainly fooled me.'

I'm acting, she thought. But not in the way you think. I'm acting all the time. Pretending I don't care. Pretending this is all strictly business. And it's fooling you. I'm a much better actress than I thought. Aloud she said: 'Where are we going?'

'I promised to show you some classy CP, didn't I?'

'CP?' she repeated.

'Corporal punishment/ he said. 'But don't worry, in fantasy land no one really gets hurt. Well, not much, anyway.'

The car stopped outside two darkened shops. Between them was a single door, with a small electric sign above it showing the outline of a whippet.

'Wait here/ Sinclair said. 'I'll park round the corner.'

He was only gone a few minutes but it gave her time to fix the hood. Once her face was obscured she felt more comfortable. Now she was unrecognisable. Free.

Sinclair inserted a card in a slot and the door opened. A steep flight of stairs led down, dully illuminated by lights designed to look like torches. She negotiated them carefully in her high-heeled boots. At the foot of the stairs was a surprisingly large foyer. The walls looked like stone, and were decorated with a variety of evil-looking implements that would have looked more at home in a torture dungeon.

A cheerful girl in a tight leather dress took Genevieve's coat. She hardly gave Genevieve's outfit a second glance, as if seeing half-naked women in a leather hood was an every day occurrence. Which, Genevieve reflected, judging from the decor of this club it probably