playing a role. Tonight something hung in the balance, even if I couldn’t say what that thing might be.
As I left Hyde Park by one of the smaller gates, I looked up and down Park Lane. I was opposite The Grosvenor, and to my right I could see the glittering Dorchester complete with fairy-lit plane tree on its forecourt. The very sight of it gave me a head rush. How long had I waited for this moment – and how stupid had I been to resist it when I first arrived in London? It wasn’t as if I couldn’t just go and have a drink in one of the bars. On the other hand, I would have had to go alone, and I would have felt like a call-girl. Being invited to a proper social gathering where I’d be introduced to people was far preferable.
Tatiana had arranged to meet me for pre-party drinks in the top-floor bar of The Hilton. I crossed the road towards The Grosvenor, then walked down Park Lane towards The Hilton. At twenty-eight floors, it stood out from the crowd, although the building itself wasn’t as attractive as most of those around it. Still, there was a certain cheesy 1970s appeal to it. As I approached, lights were going on all over its façade but the greatest concentration was on the column of balconies running up the front of the building.
I headed in through the revolving door and made for the lift, conscious of several pairs of eyes following my movement. I knew that staff would be on the look-out for call-girls, but I knew that I looked too odd, too exotic, to be one of those. Inside the lift, similarly, I could feel people looking at me furtively as we whooshed to the top of the building. My heart was fluttering and I felt a little sick with nerves, but I hoped it didn’t show. I was used to keeping my feelings inside me. I was, after all, a performer.
As I stepped out, my knees wobbled coltishly. All around, from floor-to-ceiling windows, London unfurled deliciously. I crossed the small lobby separating the restaurant from the bar, Windows, and looked around. A waiter appeared and offered to show me to a table, but I had spotted Tatiana waving to me from one of the stools at the bar. Beside her sat Morgan. I plastered a fake smile on my face and strode purposefully over to them.
Don’t blow it, don’t blow it
, I kept muttering under my breath, through clenched teeth.
‘Roch!’ exclaimed Tatiana as I grew near, and I blanched at the nickname. How dare she assume close friendship after just two meetings?
Again through clenched teeth, I greeted her and Morgan.
‘Lovely to see you again,’ said Morgan, meeting my gaze. He wasn’t in the slightest bit sheepish about the night before, that much was clear. I just hoped he wasn’t counting on a repeat performance. I didn’t find him attractive and the only reason I’d let him near me was to show that it wasn’t that easy to take me – that if anyone was going to do any ‘taking’, it would be me.
Tatiana moved to another stool and patted the one she’d vacated, so that I could be in between them. Obeying her, I grabbed the cocktail menu, resolving to choose the most expensive one on the assumption they’d be paying. As I read, I could feel them both watching me.
When I finally looked up, Tatiana placed her hand on my bare knee. ‘Roch, you do look absolutely divine,’ she purred. ‘Morgan, don’t you think she’s just edible?’
Blood rushed to my head as I thought of Morgan’s mouth on my pussy the previous night, and I looked down at my knees, unsure whether to scream or laugh hysterically, before fleeing the bar never to see this strange pair again.
‘Oh yeah,’ drawled Morgan. ‘Very tasty.’
I nearly gagged. I couldn’t stand the way they had started talking about me in the third person, or the way Tatiana’s hand had remained on my knee. I stared at it. It was like a claw – well-manicured and slender, but a claw nonetheless. Tatiana, I thought, might be all respectable on the surface, but something much darker lurked
As I left Hyde Park by one of the smaller gates, I looked up and down Park Lane. I was opposite The Grosvenor, and to my right I could see the glittering Dorchester complete with fairy-lit plane tree on its forecourt. The very sight of it gave me a head rush. How long had I waited for this moment – and how stupid had I been to resist it when I first arrived in London? It wasn’t as if I couldn’t just go and have a drink in one of the bars. On the other hand, I would have had to go alone, and I would have felt like a call-girl. Being invited to a proper social gathering where I’d be introduced to people was far preferable.
Tatiana had arranged to meet me for pre-party drinks in the top-floor bar of The Hilton. I crossed the road towards The Grosvenor, then walked down Park Lane towards The Hilton. At twenty-eight floors, it stood out from the crowd, although the building itself wasn’t as attractive as most of those around it. Still, there was a certain cheesy 1970s appeal to it. As I approached, lights were going on all over its façade but the greatest concentration was on the column of balconies running up the front of the building.
I headed in through the revolving door and made for the lift, conscious of several pairs of eyes following my movement. I knew that staff would be on the look-out for call-girls, but I knew that I looked too odd, too exotic, to be one of those. Inside the lift, similarly, I could feel people looking at me furtively as we whooshed to the top of the building. My heart was fluttering and I felt a little sick with nerves, but I hoped it didn’t show. I was used to keeping my feelings inside me. I was, after all, a performer.
As I stepped out, my knees wobbled coltishly. All around, from floor-to-ceiling windows, London unfurled deliciously. I crossed the small lobby separating the restaurant from the bar, Windows, and looked around. A waiter appeared and offered to show me to a table, but I had spotted Tatiana waving to me from one of the stools at the bar. Beside her sat Morgan. I plastered a fake smile on my face and strode purposefully over to them.
Don’t blow it, don’t blow it
, I kept muttering under my breath, through clenched teeth.
‘Roch!’ exclaimed Tatiana as I grew near, and I blanched at the nickname. How dare she assume close friendship after just two meetings?
Again through clenched teeth, I greeted her and Morgan.
‘Lovely to see you again,’ said Morgan, meeting my gaze. He wasn’t in the slightest bit sheepish about the night before, that much was clear. I just hoped he wasn’t counting on a repeat performance. I didn’t find him attractive and the only reason I’d let him near me was to show that it wasn’t that easy to take me – that if anyone was going to do any ‘taking’, it would be me.
Tatiana moved to another stool and patted the one she’d vacated, so that I could be in between them. Obeying her, I grabbed the cocktail menu, resolving to choose the most expensive one on the assumption they’d be paying. As I read, I could feel them both watching me.
When I finally looked up, Tatiana placed her hand on my bare knee. ‘Roch, you do look absolutely divine,’ she purred. ‘Morgan, don’t you think she’s just edible?’
Blood rushed to my head as I thought of Morgan’s mouth on my pussy the previous night, and I looked down at my knees, unsure whether to scream or laugh hysterically, before fleeing the bar never to see this strange pair again.
‘Oh yeah,’ drawled Morgan. ‘Very tasty.’
I nearly gagged. I couldn’t stand the way they had started talking about me in the third person, or the way Tatiana’s hand had remained on my knee. I stared at it. It was like a claw – well-manicured and slender, but a claw nonetheless. Tatiana, I thought, might be all respectable on the surface, but something much darker lurked
Similar Books
