lean closer across the table. ‘But you know what? It’s not eating me up so much. Facing Gustav in London was a huge hurdle, but it wasn’t as horrific as I thought it would be. And I’m no longer that scandalised spoilt brat, either. There’s not much that would shock me now. Who knows? I may have seen and done far worse since then!’
I gape at him, fumbling for a reply. Now he’s testing me in a different way. He’s moved from taunting to teasing. Before I can think of a suitable retort he starts running his hands up Polly’s slender thighs again, right in front of me, right there on Gustav’s sofa.
Polly’s long white legs are bare despite the season. Thick snow covers the streets outside and buries any carelessly parked vehicles. Sub-zero temperatures have New Yorkers swathed in long coats and fur hats, pushing their way aggressively along treacherous sidewalks, no matter who else is trying to get a foothold. Everyone is glued to their mobile phones even when waiting to cross busy intersections or refusing to make way for oncoming walkers.
‘Making you horny, eh? Don’t you wish my brother was here running those clever hands of his over you to calm you down?’
They both chuckle. Polly’s pale-blue eyes, as he gropes her, don’t shine with embarrassment but are glassy with a wild kind of triumph. She’s always enjoyed a drink, but she’s more out of control than I’ve ever seen her. Maybe she’s just crazy, in the true sense of the word, about this guy.
‘You bet. He won’t know what’s hit him when he gets home.’ I smile coolly. I stand to replenish the now melted ice in the bucket, aware of a hot stickiness between my legs. I try not to stare where Pierre’s fingers are wandering, but a gremlin inside is imagining him fingering me.
‘Gustav has you exactly where he wants you.’ Pierre sits back, pulling Polly hard against his groin. Above us the clock is saying five to midnight.
‘Wrong way round. He’s where I want
him
.’
Pierre nods, the surliness finally lifting into straightforward youthful amusement. He lays his hands on Polly’s legs and pulls her thighs open. She starts to grind against him. As I retreat to the kitchen for more ice I see her trying to keep a straight face. I can tell she is counting the minutes till she gets him into bed. I’ve never seen her so distracted. So giddy about a guy.
In the kitchen I lean against the massive fridge. Feel the cool flank of it hum and buzz quietly against my spine. This whole evening has been bizarre. Of all the men in all the world Polly ends up with Pierre Levi. I didn’t expect to spend my New Year’s Eve playing gooseberry with my cousin and Gustav’s bellicose
doppelgänger
, but although he’s tricky and difficult to work out I think I’ve laid some friendly ground. I hope Gustav will be pleased. But I’ve had enough now. I want to be with Gustav again, playing with him as he lies back in the bubbling Jacuzzi, taking him in my hands and then riding him like a cowgirl.
The little golden locket he gave me for Christmas taps at my clavicle as I take deep breaths. I touch its smooth oval shape, trace the tiny bumps made by the trim of seed pearls for comfort. It’s already my talisman. The underside is engraved with an ‘S’ and is permanently heated by my skin.
‘For the urchin who had no jewellery to her name when I met her, a second piece for her collection,’ he murmured on Christmas morning as I took it out of its velvet box. ‘Made by the same French craftsman. You’ll see the tiny silver clasp that closes this has the same design as your bracelet.’
‘So you could tether me by the neck as well as by the wrists. Then I’d never be able to escape.’ We both shivered at the promise of kinkiness. How well I knew how to light his fire. Any minute now he’d be prowling round the apartment, choosing the place where he would next attach the silver chain.
I turned the locket and something weighted inside
I gape at him, fumbling for a reply. Now he’s testing me in a different way. He’s moved from taunting to teasing. Before I can think of a suitable retort he starts running his hands up Polly’s slender thighs again, right in front of me, right there on Gustav’s sofa.
Polly’s long white legs are bare despite the season. Thick snow covers the streets outside and buries any carelessly parked vehicles. Sub-zero temperatures have New Yorkers swathed in long coats and fur hats, pushing their way aggressively along treacherous sidewalks, no matter who else is trying to get a foothold. Everyone is glued to their mobile phones even when waiting to cross busy intersections or refusing to make way for oncoming walkers.
‘Making you horny, eh? Don’t you wish my brother was here running those clever hands of his over you to calm you down?’
They both chuckle. Polly’s pale-blue eyes, as he gropes her, don’t shine with embarrassment but are glassy with a wild kind of triumph. She’s always enjoyed a drink, but she’s more out of control than I’ve ever seen her. Maybe she’s just crazy, in the true sense of the word, about this guy.
‘You bet. He won’t know what’s hit him when he gets home.’ I smile coolly. I stand to replenish the now melted ice in the bucket, aware of a hot stickiness between my legs. I try not to stare where Pierre’s fingers are wandering, but a gremlin inside is imagining him fingering me.
‘Gustav has you exactly where he wants you.’ Pierre sits back, pulling Polly hard against his groin. Above us the clock is saying five to midnight.
‘Wrong way round. He’s where I want
him
.’
Pierre nods, the surliness finally lifting into straightforward youthful amusement. He lays his hands on Polly’s legs and pulls her thighs open. She starts to grind against him. As I retreat to the kitchen for more ice I see her trying to keep a straight face. I can tell she is counting the minutes till she gets him into bed. I’ve never seen her so distracted. So giddy about a guy.
In the kitchen I lean against the massive fridge. Feel the cool flank of it hum and buzz quietly against my spine. This whole evening has been bizarre. Of all the men in all the world Polly ends up with Pierre Levi. I didn’t expect to spend my New Year’s Eve playing gooseberry with my cousin and Gustav’s bellicose
doppelgänger
, but although he’s tricky and difficult to work out I think I’ve laid some friendly ground. I hope Gustav will be pleased. But I’ve had enough now. I want to be with Gustav again, playing with him as he lies back in the bubbling Jacuzzi, taking him in my hands and then riding him like a cowgirl.
The little golden locket he gave me for Christmas taps at my clavicle as I take deep breaths. I touch its smooth oval shape, trace the tiny bumps made by the trim of seed pearls for comfort. It’s already my talisman. The underside is engraved with an ‘S’ and is permanently heated by my skin.
‘For the urchin who had no jewellery to her name when I met her, a second piece for her collection,’ he murmured on Christmas morning as I took it out of its velvet box. ‘Made by the same French craftsman. You’ll see the tiny silver clasp that closes this has the same design as your bracelet.’
‘So you could tether me by the neck as well as by the wrists. Then I’d never be able to escape.’ We both shivered at the promise of kinkiness. How well I knew how to light his fire. Any minute now he’d be prowling round the apartment, choosing the place where he would next attach the silver chain.
I turned the locket and something weighted inside
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