“He bought some shares and sold them on for a profit. It seems your father needed a quick cash injection.”
“Ah, okay. Well, I don’t think that has anything to do with me, or does it?”
“No, but I guess you should know so that you can go into this with open eyes.”
“Well, if he helped my father, then he is definitely the man I want to help me as well.”
“He seems quite keen to do so.”
“And he knows exactly what I do here?” she enquired with surprise in her voice.
“Yes, I told him everything. I highly doubt he’ll be interested in yourgirlsbut the idea of an exclusive club where people can indulge in a certain lifestyle seemed to intrigue him.”
“How about you, my darling? Have you met anyonespecialyet?”
Veronica and I were more than similar in our tastes and had only discovered that when we’d bumped into each other, rather embarrassingly, at anotherexclusiveclub in London some years ago. I remembered that I had been mid fuck when she’d walked into the room to watch. Of course, my cock deflated instantly and the woman beneath me furiously stomped off leaving me naked in front of my laughing cousin. A vow had been made that we never frequented the same venues again. I wasn’t into fetish behaviour but sometimes, I just wanted sex with no strings attached. It was while at those clubs, however, that I’d discovered my like for certain elements of the BDSM scene.
“I may have. Well, someone I’m rather attracted to. It’s going to be complicated, however,” I replied.
“In what way?”
“Well, technically she’s my boss.” I laughed, and she joined in.
“Yes, awkward, but rather hot, don’t you think? All that forbidden love,” she said. “Anyway, I have to go. We open shortly. And I’ll email over some dates for Mr. Miller. Let me know which one is best.”
I disconnected the call, placed the handset on the arm of the chair and sighed. Sitting in my home office I looked around thinking of all the places I could fuck Gabriella. There was a rather handy picture rail with hooks still attached, perfect for restraint. I shuffled in my seat at the thought and wondered whether she’d allow me to do that to her.
Such was my attraction to her however, I think I would choose vanilla if that was all that was on offer.
* * *
For the next few days I fantasied about Gabriella and it distracted me from my work. I was winding down and had a weekend visit to my mother planned before I could see Gabriella next.
The thought of my mother caused my shoulders to tense. She was a bitter woman, but in some ways I didn’t blame her. She had lost so much, and even after pledging her support to my father after he lost their fortune, she lost him too. She wasn’t bitter about losing the house, the cars, the staff, the lunches with friends and she wasn’t concerned when she was ostracised by herclique, even. She was, however, devastated and scarred by Dad’s suicide. She could not move on from the belief that he had taken the coward’s way out leaving her to cope with it all. Still, I did my duty and spent one weekend a month with her. As time had passed, that weekend had lessened from being Friday to Sunday, to only overnight on a Saturday. Even then, I usually arrived later in the day.
My father was a victim of fraud, lies, cheaters, and scoundrels, and even though he was dead, I idolised him. I struggled to sit through her tirade of abuse about him for any length of time.
It was midday on Saturday that I opened the front door to my mother’s apartment. It was quiet, which was strange. Mother normally had the radio on for company, she’d say.
“Mother?” I called out, there was no reply.
The apartment was within a stately home that had, like many, been split up into spacious and extravagant apartments. Mother’s was on the ground floor. I walked through to her kitchen and noticed her French doors open. There was a communal garden and as I stepped out onto her patio, I heard the tinkle of her laughter. It was the first time in years I’d heard her do that and I frowned.
“Darling? We’re over here,” I heard her call. I looked towards the tennis court to see my mother in her whites wielding a tennis racket. I also noticed an elderly gentleman on the other side of the net. He raised his racket in greeting. “This rascal is cheating,” she added with further mirth.
I sat on the bench outside the fence that surrounded the court and watched as she finished the set, winning her the match.
As he left the court, my mother’s opponent said, “Your mother is amazing. I’ve lost every game.” He strode over and tucked his racket under his arm then held out a hand. “Duncan Windsor,” he said. It was odd, the surname was familiar, of course but, and I chastised myself for my snobbish thought,Duncandidn’t sit well as an upper-class first name in my mind.
I shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I must say, I haven’t seen my mother so animated in a while.”
Mother slapped my chest with the racket. “Oh, Darling, don’t be so silly. Tomorrow, Duncan, same time?” Duncan nodded and left us. Mother slumped onto the bench and I sat beside her. She huffed the air through her puffed cheeks. “Phew, Alexander, I’m pooped.”
“I’m sure you are. When was the last time you played tennis?” I asked.
“Yesterday, and the day before. In fact, every day for the past two weeks. I decided I couldn’t live the way I was, and I know you’ve delayed your visits to me in the past because I was always so sour. I found my racket, I even, and you won’t believe me I’m sure, bought a pad thingy, got online and ordered these rather attractive clothes.”
I scrunched my brow but couldn’t help smiling. “A pad thingy?”
