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Bill rolled his eyes. His lips thinned in exasperation. His front teeth settled on his lower lip, as though he was about to spit out a long stream of his familiar trademark swearwords.
‘If I don’t chuffing grin,’ he argued, ‘I’m going to look like a perverted old serial killer clutching grimly at his victims.’
Trudy tightened her mouth to conceal a reluctant smile.
Charlotte, sitting next to her, muffled a splutter of laughter in her wine.
Daryl, however, made no response. She seemed captivated by the bare breasts of one of the models. Tall and leggy, dressed in a waist-hugging scarlet Prada dress, Daryl would not have looked out of place standing alongside the models. Admittedly, her chest wasn’t as well developed as any of theirs but Trudy knew Daryl’s naked figure was superbly athletic.
Daryl wore a dreamy half-smile that suggested her thoughts were in the lewd and lovely dimension where she always seemed happiest. Daryl was bisexual, and shamelessly promiscuous. Her relationships were many and usually short-lived. Trudy didn’t dare imagine what she was thinking as she studied the models, but at that moment she almost envied Daryl the simplicity of her libido-dominated ambitions.
Trudy glanced at the models.
She caught herself staring at a pair of naked breasts. Hurriedly, she dragged her gaze away before anyone realised she’d been looking at erect nipples. Her cheeks were warm with the threat of a blush. She felt queasy with nervous apprehension.
‘I can imagine the ideal caption for this one,’ Harvey grumbled. ‘Thirteen tits on display at Boui-Boui.’
Charlotte giggled.
Trudy shot Harvey a reproachful glance.
‘I chuffing heard that,’ Bill growled. ‘And it’s not too late for me to find a new agent.’
Despite his display of grumpiness, Trudy knew Bill was enjoying some aspects of his recent success. He had been a Michelin-starred chef when they first met and now he had achieved celebrity status as an authority on kitchens and cuisine. He had a TV show and wrote cookery articles for two national magazines. He was regarded as an expert on all matters relating to restaurants and recipes and she knew he was savouring the deserved recognition.
Yet she was aware that he wasn’t enjoying every aspect of his success.
The muted mobile buzzed again. She ignored it.
She knew the artificiality of photo shoots and promotional publicity had begun to irritate Bill. The previous evening, on his return from the city, he had confided that all the fake poses and airbrushed pictures made him uneasy.
Trudy sympathised. She understood that such artifices flew in the face of his gruff northern honesty. But she also knew they were a necessity of his newfound celebrity.
She glanced at him, admiring the way he looked so commanding in a single-breasted white dinner jacket over an open-throated black shirt. He had a way of dressing that she always thought of as understated panache.
As he stood proudly between half a dozen stunning topless models, she could tell the smile on his face was false but she figured it was convincing enough to fool the photographer. It would probably be convincing enough to fool anyone who didn’t know him. But she did know him and she could see the small and telling details that would never be caught by a camera.
His fingers flexed and unflexed. She sensed that he wasn’t sure whether he should be touching the bare flesh of the shoulder beneath his hand; whether such contact would look intrusive and unsolicited or masterful and controlling. She didn’t envy him having to make such decisions.
Of course, if she’d been beneath his hand, Trudy knew that Bill would have shown no hesitation in being masterful and controlling. That was one of the many things she loved about him.
He caught her looking in his direction and smiled.
It looked like the first genuine grin he’d worn all day. It was certainly the first smile she’d seen him give this afternoon where the expression touched his eyes.
Instead of worrying about him, knowing that that would be of little use, Trudy quietly vowed to make sure his smile properly returned when they were alone in the evening.
It was Sunday and, under the new arrangement they had agreed, this was the one day of the week when they should have been spending time alone together. More importantly, it was one of the few nights of the week when they should both be sufficiently rested to make the most of their time together at the end of the evening.
There were a couple of boned and rolled sirloins waiting in the fridge. There was a bottle of matured Chivas Regal sitting in Bill’s office. And, once the whisky had been sampled and the steaks had been devoured, Trudy had grand plans for the evening.
Her pulse quickened as she thought of handing Bill a wooden spoon and then bending over a counter. She would call him ‘Mr Hart’ and beg him to –
The photographer clapped his hands. His voice was not particularly strong or commanding and he had to shout to make himself heard above the babble of conversations. He asked everyone in the background to remember their roles and pretend that they were dining.
Trudy shook her head. The photographer’s interruption had not derailed her train of thought. Her smile broadened as the image of her planned evening settled more comfortably before her mind’s eye. If she concentrated she would be able to imagine the weight of Bill’s skilful hands caressing her bare buttocks to warm her, ready for an evening’s delightful discipline. Twin spots of colour rouged her cheeks as she glanced at her table companions and feared that Daryl, Charlotte or Harvey might guess the lurid path of her thoughts from the crooked tilt of her smile.
‘What’s this photo shoot for?’ asked Daryl.
‘Glossy lads’ mags,’ Harvey said. ‘The second series of Billy’s new TV show goes out in a couple of months. I want to get him maximum exposure ready for that. In two months he’ll be in more magazines than staples.’
‘Will Bill’s show be as big as Master Baker?’
Harvey pulled a face. ‘Master-bloody-Baker,’ he grumbled. ‘Is that all anyone can talk about these days?’
Charlotte sat forward in her seat, clearly intrigued by the mention of Master Baker. She brushed long locks of dark hair from the side of her face and tucked them over her ear before slyly smiling at Harvey.
Master Baker was one of the main sources of conversation in the Sweet Temptation offices. Some days, when Trudy walked past Charlotte and Daryl, it was all she heard them discussing. Daryl was a huge fan of Kelly White. Charlotte favoured Tom Yates. The show aired on a Saturday night and the pair of them spent most of their Monday morning discussing what had been said, what decisions had been made and how they could have been played differently.
‘I love Master Baker,’ Charlotte told Harvey. ‘Tom Yates is such a bitch to some of those contestants.’
‘Only when they deserve it,’ Daryl reminded her. ‘If you want to see really scathing comments you have to go to Kelly.’
Trudy didn’t bother following the conversation. She had heard Daryl and Charlotte have this argument before. Although Trudy liked the show she couldn’t claim to be as big a fan as either of them.
‘Master Baker is a good show,’ Harvey conceded. ‘But it’s unlikely Billy’s show will get as many viewers. They’re in different time slots. They’re aimed at different audiences.’
Daryl nodded as though she’d been listening to what Harvey said. She pointed at one of the models and asked, ‘Have you got a phone number for that blonde?’
He frowned and glanced at the models. ‘Which blonde? There’s four of them.’
‘Any of them will do,’ Daryl admitted. ‘But I’d prefer it if you’ve got the number for the one with the pierced bellybutton.’
Like the rest of those at her table, Trudy found herself scanning the models to see which blonde had a pierced bellybutton. It was a glimpse of more female flesh than she needed. She turned away as soon as she’d worked out it was the blonde with the sculpted muscle tone and a thong so tight the crotch was moulding the shape of her labia. This was the blonde with the yin-yang tattoo on her shoulder. The one whose hand kept repeatedly touching Bill’s backside.
‘Beatrice?’ Harvey laughed. ‘Of course I’ve got her number.’
‘Could I have it?’ Daryl asked. She produced a business card, one that said she was Sweet Temptation’s head of administration. The card contained her mobile number and her email address. ‘Or could you get her to give me a call?’
‘Why don’t you go over and ask her yourself?’ Charlotte asked.
Daryl shook her head. ‘She’s busy working. Credit me with some professional integrity.’
Charlotte shook her head. ‘You have the professional integrity to perv off at a topless model and then try to get her mobile number from the model’s agent?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Table thirteen,’ the photographer exclaimed.
Trudy flinched, expecting that they were about to be reprimanded for talking too loudly, or discussing things that were inappropriate. Her cheeks reddened and she turned, ready to offer an apology.
‘There are four of you,’ the photographer told Trudy.
Charlotte and Daryl exchanged a glance.
‘Is that wrong?’ Trudy asked.
‘I need two people on each table,’ the photographer explained.
Trudy glanced around Boui-Boui’s front of house. The familiar chintzy country-house décor was the same as always. The waiters and waitresses were dressed in their uniform of black pants and black shirts. With the exception of a couple of empty booths in the rear corners of the restaurant, every table aside from the one she was sharing with Harvey, Charlotte and Daryl was occupied by only two diners.
‘A couple on each table balances my backgrounds,’ the photographer told her. ‘It conveys a subliminal suggestion of romantic dining.’ He glanced at Harvey and said, ‘Wasn’t that part of the brief for this photo shoot, Mr Walker?’
Harvey nodded. ‘That’s right. It was.’
Trudy came to a quick decision.
Glancing at Harvey and Daryl she said, ‘I could do with some alone time with Charlotte. I believe she’s got a new man in her life and I can use a one-to-one session to find out all about him.’
Charlotte’s cheeks darkened and she glanced downwards. She was shaking her head as though already refusing to discuss the matter. Her resolve only made Trudy feel more determined to find out who the man was and why he was such a mystery.
Harvey placed a hand on Trudy’s forearm.
His touch was warm but not unpleasant.
‘If it doesn’t interrupt your vitally important interrogation,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t mind staying on this table with you so that we can have a private word.’
Trudy glanced at Charlotte who shrugged and nodded.
Charlotte looked vaguely pleased as she stood up with Daryl and moved to an empty table. Her obvious relief made Trudy more determined to find out about the mystery man she was hiding. She turned doubtfully to Harvey, wondering why Bill’s agent might need to have a word with her.
Chapter 2 (#ulink_1737fcc6-cb02-5e60-9f8a-192285e984a9)
Her mobile buzzed again, reminding her she had an unread text message.
At the photographer’s request, she’d muted the phone before the photo shoot began. Under other circumstances she might have glanced at the screen to see who was trying to get in touch. But Harvey’s solemnity suggested he needed to discuss something serious and Trudy figured the text message had already waited for five minutes, so another five wouldn’t hurt.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘No. Not wrong. But I want to ask you a favour.’
She remained silent, encouraging him to continue.
‘Billy’s my biggest client at the moment,’ Harvey explained. He gave a nod towards Bill and his smile briefly broadened.
Trudy made the mistake of following the direction of his gaze and glancing at Bill. The photographer now had the six women surrounding Bill as though he was posing for an old-fashioned James Bond promo. Two of the women knelt by his hips, their jaws tilted so they were facing up to him with adoring smiles. Their breasts were still embarrassingly visible. Their thongs were revealingly tight. Their heads were disconcertingly close to his groin.
Trudy quietly seethed.
She remembered the last time her own face had been so close to Bill’s groin. It had only been the previous evening, when Bill returned home from his three-day stint in the city. But it had been good. Under the new arrangement it seemed the sex between them was always good.
The memory of what they had done the previous evening made her stomach muscles tighten with a pang of delicious excitement. She felt momentarily resentful of the models being allowed to be so close to him. They had no right to be kneeling with their heads close to any part of him. They certainly had no business putting their faces so close to that particular part of him.
That, she decided, was her position.
She tried to drag her gaze away before her glare could become withering. There were two more models at Bill’s side. The women draped their hands possessively over his shoulders. The final pair, including the blonde with the pierced belly button and the yin-yang tattoo, embraced Bill intimately from behind. Their bare chests were pushed firmly against his back.
All of them were grinning broadly.
Too broadly, Trudy thought.
She finally managed to wrench her gaze away.
She fixed her scowl on Harvey. It occurred to her that he was the one who had organised this photo shoot. He was the one who deserved her anger. She tried not to make her hostility too obvious.
A passing waitress deposited a plate of muffins on their otherwise empty table. Trudy was so distracted that, if it hadn’t been for the flounce of fuchsia hair, she wouldn’t have known who it was. Absently she mumbled, ‘Thank you, Nikki.’
‘I don’t doubt Billy will be even bigger in a few months if all my plans work out,’ Harvey continued. ‘We’ve got quite a few companies interested in having him as their representative. There are some lucrative overseas markets beckoning. Our Billy is becoming quite a popular brand in his own right.’
‘That’s great.’
Trudy tried to say the words with genuine enthusiasm. The truth was, it would only be great if Bill thought it was great. If he thought the nuisance of celebrity was becoming an ordeal she knew he would stop it immediately.
‘But,’ Harvey continued, ‘I have to say that this new arrangement of yours is causing me a bit of a dilemma.’
Trudy paused.
She was momentarily too shocked to respond.
Had Bill told Harvey about the new arrangement? How much had he told him? She willed herself not to blush. Surely Bill would be more discreet than to share their intimate details with someone else?
‘Our new arrangement is causing you a dilemma?’ she repeated.
Did Harvey know that she usually spent Saturday nights being disciplined until her buttocks were a bright-pink blaze of heat? That was one of the main things she associated with the new arrangement. Had Bill confided that they kept a special spatula in his country cottage kitchen which he used throughout Sunday mornings while she took on the role of being his spankmaid? That was another key aspect of the new arrangement. Did Harvey know that she usually spent most of Sunday, her one free day of the week, naked in the bedroom or the kitchen, thrilling to Bill’s innovative, masterful and wonderful discipline?
‘Our new arrangement is causing you a dilemma?’
She tried not to let the rising anger show in her voice. Her cheeks seared. She felt ill with embarrassment at Harvey’s apparent knowledge. How indiscreet had Bill been?
The new arrangement had been Bill’s response to the situation that had nearly driven them apart half a year earlier. They had just been getting to know each other and exploring the boundaries of their new relationship. Bill was introducing Trudy to the pleasures of sexual discipline and she had found the experience incredibly exciting. Sexually, he was a natural master and she had discovered, much to her surprise, that she enjoyed being a natural submissive for him.
It was the perfect balance for a sexual relationship. It would have been a perfect romance if not for Donny, one of her former friends from university.
Donny, along with Charlotte, had been a collaborator in the idea for the online catering company Sweet Temptation. Donny made it known that he wasn’t happy that Trudy was in a relationship with Bill. He claimed the age difference was too great and he had gone out of his way to cause her upset and distress. To make matters worse, because it suited a private vendetta he was pursuing, Donny had also tried to hurt Bill’s career.
Bill had spent a night in jail cells because of Donny’s machinations.
As it turned out, Donny’s grudge had little to do with Trudy finding happiness with Bill. Donny had briefly dated Bill’s daughter, Imogen. He had abandoned her when she became pregnant and Donny and Bill had loathed each other ever since. Donny, Trudy now realised, had simply been taking advantage of an opportunity to upset an old adversary.
