‘Why? What you tell them? You are having kinky sex with a bad Russian man?’
‘No.’ I burst out laughing despite myself, disturbing the froth so it blows over onto the table.
‘Well, is easy enough. You say you are with a boyfriend. What is wrong with that?’
‘I’m not comfortable with lying.’
I look him up and down, his tall lean figure arranged in a relaxed posture, legs out in front, one elbow crooked with a hand behind his head. My mouth waters.
‘What is the lie? I am not your boyfriend?’ He sounds put out. My heart zings.
‘Are you? Are you my boyfriend?’
‘I think so. You don’t?’
‘Yes, yes, I do. I want to. I didn’t know.’
‘You have sex with me, I don’t pay you, you like it. This to me is girlfriend.’
‘That’s good. I just wondered if you saw it as some kind of business arrangement or something.’
He stretches the crooked arm, rests it behind my neck, hand on my shoulder. His fingertips ruffle my hair at the side of my head.
‘If all business arrangements was like this, the world is a better place,’ he opines, grinning. Then he puts his head to one side, his eyes suddenly cast down and serious. ‘I’m sorry I only see you once a week. You understand I am so busy working in this kitchen. And then I must look for acting job. And then I must see my housemates who are my cousins. Soon we will make more time, I promise.’
I almost burst with love for him. I reach out and stroke his cheek. ‘I’d like that. I really would.’
He takes my hand and kisses the fingers. All meaning detaches from time and space.
‘Oh,’ he says, ‘I forget. I promise O we will go watch her friends have sex after we finish in boudoir.’
‘What?’
‘Before you arrive, O ask me if we have time to watch this orgy. I start work at six, is only two now. So I say yes. What’s wrong? I only try to be polite. Is English to be polite, right?’
I squeeze his fingers. ‘I know. I just think O and her friends have designs on you.’
‘Designs?’
‘They want to get their hands on you.’
‘Ah. Ha ha. You think they are having lust for me?’
‘Definitely. Much lust. I think they want you to join in the orgy.’
‘Ah.’
‘I mean, if you wanted to …’ I hold my breath.
‘Is not why I come here.’
‘No. Me neither. But …’
‘You want to have sex with these people?’
‘No.’
‘OK. I don’t too. But I promise we watch, so …’
‘It’s fine. We’ll watch.’
* * *
An hour later, after Dimitri has tied me up beautifully in ribbons, like a package, using instructions from a book, then done depraved things to me – some painful, some not – on a four-poster bed, we relax in the boudoir, waiting for company.
‘Is quite a form of art, this type of bondage,’ he comments, releasing me from my silken cocoon so that I can dress in time for the performance. ‘It take a long time though. Maybe too long to put on my menu. We hardly have time for sex fun today.’
True. I pout a little, but I did at least get one orgasm out of it.
‘Next time we do easy bondage, get more sex, I think.’
It was sex enough, I thought with pleasurable reminiscence, to have his strong hands wrap me round and round in satiny ribbon until I lay helpless beneath his touch. I could do that again. And again.
He passes me my dress, an easy slip-on jersey number, perfect for this kind of leisure activity. I’ve hardly got my head through the neck hole when there is a knock at the door. Them.
We hop off the bed together and I go to sit on a chintzy chaise longue while Dimitri opens the door.
‘Dimitri!’ Trixietots launches herself on to him, hanging off his neck, crushing her ample tits against his chest. ‘So, so glad you could come. And I hope you will! Tee-hee!’ Giggle, flirt, hair twirl, finger suck. Stupid cow. ‘You’ll want to join in, I know it. Can’t wait!’
He manages to detach her and gives her hand a gallant kiss. She looks over at me and nods unenthusiastically. After her, two men – the ‘handlers’ – troop in, then O and Mal bring up the rear.
Dimitri joins me on the chaise, bundling me up close and sitting me on his lap. This could be interesting, I think, as the folds of my skirt fall away and my bare thighs rest on his patchy jeans. Maybe I could just sleep through the whole thing, using Dimitri’s chest as a handy pillow.
My interest is piqued, however, when Mal and the handlers sit like three solemn jurors on the end of the bed, watching O and Trixietots, who stand before them.