off back in Mayfair, but something in his manner deters me.
Leave it, Grace, I tell myself. Maybe he just likes to watch. After all, half the point of these parties is to cater to men’s inner voyeur – a rare opportunity to see people fucking in the flesh.
So I help out Elisa instead, kneeling behind her and running my tongue down her spine. Harry stares at me over the top of her head, groaning even louder as I bring my hand round to cup her breast. Elisa wriggles appreciatively, but I know it’s all for show. Just as I know exactly how far I can go.
No girls. That’s Elisa’s cardinal rule. Not because she doesn’t like women, but because she does. ‘Men only’ is her way of staying loyal to her girlfriend.
‘Stop,’ commands Harry and Elisa obediently removes her mouth. He gets up from the chair and motions her to sit in his place. With one foot on the floor and the other kneeling beside her, he takes his cock in his hand and starts to rub up and down. At the last moment he lifts himself higher and spurts over her face. A glob of semen lands on her cheek, another close to her left eye.
It’s all I can do not to glare at him. The stupid bastard. Thinks he’s the star in his own personal porno.
I hand Elisa a couple of tissues as he turns away. She dabs at her eye and I see her wince in pain. ‘Jodhpurs,’ she mouths at me as she looks up.
‘Come on,’ I grab her hand and lead her to a bathroom, closing the door behind us. Elisa leans over the sink, splashing water over her face.
I feel for her. Nothing stings like semen in your eye.
She raises her head and reaches for some more tissues. ‘That fucking pig.’ She pats her skin dry, then looks at me, her expression more serious than I’ve ever seen it. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he pays for that.’
I can’t imagine how, but I applaud the sentiment. God only knows how Janine can put up with him.
Elisa peers in the mirror. Her eyeball looks sore and red and her make-up is ruined.
‘Where’s your bag?’ I ask, then remember where she stashed it in the living room. I go and look behind the sofa. As I grasp the handle, her phone falls out on to the floor – I’m about to pick it up when Elisa’s hand appears and grabs it.
‘It’s OK. I’ve got it.’
She retreats into the bathroom, emerging five minutes later with her face fully restored. ‘Thank you,’ she says in a whisper, kissing me lightly on the cheek before glancing around at the remains of the party. ‘Once more unto the breech, dear friend.’
9
Tuesday, 10 February
The evening slides into the early hours. The Viagra has obviously worn off because Harry and Rob have collapsed on the sofa with Janine sprawling naked between them, all absorbed in the adult DVDs she brought with her. Good stuff, thank God. The delectable James Deen screwing a girl over a kitchen table, his eyes locked on hers as he whispers filth into her ear.
Harry fondles his penis as he stares at the screen, but it’s limp and lifeless now, a portent of years to come. Rob looks glassy-eyed, close to sleep.
Deen flips the girl on to her stomach and I risk a look at Alex’s face as he watches. Definitely not handsome, no, but there’s a kind of remorseless energy about him, a cool calculating intelligence that attracts and repels in equal measure.
As Deen lines himself up for the cum-shot, Alex looks across at me in a way that tells me he’s perfectly aware of my inspection. I turn away, retrieving the last of the empty champagne bottles and taking them to the kitchen. The clock above the sleek range cooker says 3.15 a.m.; with any luck we can wrap things up by six.
A second later Elisa appears, holding a plate of half-eaten canapés. I take them from her and tip them into a Tupperware box. No need for them to go to waste.
‘Did you find out who he was?’ she asks.
‘Who?’
‘The one that left. James.’
I shrug. ‘No idea. Why?’
‘Harry says he’s in government.’
‘An
Leave it, Grace, I tell myself. Maybe he just likes to watch. After all, half the point of these parties is to cater to men’s inner voyeur – a rare opportunity to see people fucking in the flesh.
So I help out Elisa instead, kneeling behind her and running my tongue down her spine. Harry stares at me over the top of her head, groaning even louder as I bring my hand round to cup her breast. Elisa wriggles appreciatively, but I know it’s all for show. Just as I know exactly how far I can go.
No girls. That’s Elisa’s cardinal rule. Not because she doesn’t like women, but because she does. ‘Men only’ is her way of staying loyal to her girlfriend.
‘Stop,’ commands Harry and Elisa obediently removes her mouth. He gets up from the chair and motions her to sit in his place. With one foot on the floor and the other kneeling beside her, he takes his cock in his hand and starts to rub up and down. At the last moment he lifts himself higher and spurts over her face. A glob of semen lands on her cheek, another close to her left eye.
It’s all I can do not to glare at him. The stupid bastard. Thinks he’s the star in his own personal porno.
I hand Elisa a couple of tissues as he turns away. She dabs at her eye and I see her wince in pain. ‘Jodhpurs,’ she mouths at me as she looks up.
‘Come on,’ I grab her hand and lead her to a bathroom, closing the door behind us. Elisa leans over the sink, splashing water over her face.
I feel for her. Nothing stings like semen in your eye.
She raises her head and reaches for some more tissues. ‘That fucking pig.’ She pats her skin dry, then looks at me, her expression more serious than I’ve ever seen it. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he pays for that.’
I can’t imagine how, but I applaud the sentiment. God only knows how Janine can put up with him.
Elisa peers in the mirror. Her eyeball looks sore and red and her make-up is ruined.
‘Where’s your bag?’ I ask, then remember where she stashed it in the living room. I go and look behind the sofa. As I grasp the handle, her phone falls out on to the floor – I’m about to pick it up when Elisa’s hand appears and grabs it.
‘It’s OK. I’ve got it.’
She retreats into the bathroom, emerging five minutes later with her face fully restored. ‘Thank you,’ she says in a whisper, kissing me lightly on the cheek before glancing around at the remains of the party. ‘Once more unto the breech, dear friend.’
9
Tuesday, 10 February
The evening slides into the early hours. The Viagra has obviously worn off because Harry and Rob have collapsed on the sofa with Janine sprawling naked between them, all absorbed in the adult DVDs she brought with her. Good stuff, thank God. The delectable James Deen screwing a girl over a kitchen table, his eyes locked on hers as he whispers filth into her ear.
Harry fondles his penis as he stares at the screen, but it’s limp and lifeless now, a portent of years to come. Rob looks glassy-eyed, close to sleep.
Deen flips the girl on to her stomach and I risk a look at Alex’s face as he watches. Definitely not handsome, no, but there’s a kind of remorseless energy about him, a cool calculating intelligence that attracts and repels in equal measure.
As Deen lines himself up for the cum-shot, Alex looks across at me in a way that tells me he’s perfectly aware of my inspection. I turn away, retrieving the last of the empty champagne bottles and taking them to the kitchen. The clock above the sleek range cooker says 3.15 a.m.; with any luck we can wrap things up by six.
A second later Elisa appears, holding a plate of half-eaten canapés. I take them from her and tip them into a Tupperware box. No need for them to go to waste.
‘Did you find out who he was?’ she asks.
‘Who?’
‘The one that left. James.’
I shrug. ‘No idea. Why?’
‘Harry says he’s in government.’
‘An
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