Читать книгу Behind the Mask: Enter a World Where Women Make - and Break - the Rules - Emma Sayle - Страница 10

‘Though the sex to which I belong is considered weak you will nevertheless find me a rock that bends to no wind.’

Elizabeth I

I wake up late the day after our celebration of Killing Kittens’ first birthday. I had a skinful of booze last night but feel fine: no apocalyptic headache, no anxiety, no problem. Thanks to forgetting to set my alarm, I’ve slept off any potential hangover. I have plenty of time to enjoy my snack-attack of sardines on toast and open the two Valentine cards that have arrived.

One is from Aidan in Australia and he’s written:

Happy Valentine’s, Em!

I miss you and I’m still waiting for you.

Love Aidan. P.S. There’s a surprise coming your way.

I can’t help feeling warm and fuzzy when I read it. Even though we’ve broken up and live on different sides of the world, we’ll always share a special bond. The attraction between us has never faded, and I can’t help wondering how things would be if he were living in London. Would we be together? Maybe even married? But his life is over there, and mine is here.

I tuck Aidan’s card away and open the other one. It has a huge red heart on the front and it’s been signed inside: Mr B. I stare at it, wondering why I don’t feel any cupids flying round my head, or as though I’m soaring to the dizzy heights of love. It might be because his PA picked the card and probably even signed it too.

Stop it, Ems. You don’t know that. Mr B has made a romantic gesture. And it’s early days. Cut him some slack.

Tonight, there’ll be romance in the air: champagne, oysters by candlelight, chocolates, sexy pillow talk and smoochy music – just not for me. I’ve laid on all this for tonight’s Valentine’s party. The fourteenth of February might be the festival of love, but I have the first anniversary of my business to celebrate with my Kittens, so love – and Mr Black – will just have to wait.

I jump into the shower and get ready for work. I fling on a slinky black mini-dress, opt for minimal make-up with just a hint of eyeliner and lip gloss, and moisturize my legs as they’re on display tonight. I jump into a cab and head for the financial heart of London: the City. Heavy clouds cover the skyline and the journey is an arduous one: my driver is a snail and I try to calm myself as he catches every red light while his meter keeps on clicking away. I finally arrive an hour later, £50 poorer.

The venue for tonight’s Killing Kittens’ party is a funky retro-modern boutique hotel. I’ve booked four lavish penthouse suites at the excellent price of £1,000 for the whole evening. The owner is dating one of my members, so he’s thrown in the bar downstairs for nothing, which means people can gather somewhere before the party gets going. I walk through the busy hotel lobby to the elevator and press the penthouse button. I ride to the top floor and when the door slides open, I find Kitty Kat waiting for me, looking stunning in a skin-tight red all-in-one PVC outfit and mask, and armed with a clipboard.

When I started the parties, I knew I would need help. I could do all the organization myself, but I needed security and someone on the door. At first I corralled friends and family into helping me. My sister even spent a few months as my door girl, on the firm condition that she stayed on the door and didn’t venture into the humid depths of the Covent Garden sauna. I met Kitty Kat through a friend of mine and we hit it off right away. She was working as an actress and needed to supplement her wages, and she was organized and open-minded. It was a perfect match and she happily agreed to become my permanent part-time door girl, helping me run the monthly party. Now I can’t imagine how I would cope without her.

‘Good evening, Emma.’ She hands over the clipboard with the names of those attending. ‘I sent an email last night to the guests informing them of tonight’s venue. We’re expecting 100. My only concern is that there’s no private elevator to the penthouse. I’ll have to make sure we don’t get hotel guests straying up here by mistake.’

I laugh as I scan the list of names Kitty Kat’s given me. ‘Can you imagine?’

‘Don’t worry. Everything’s under control.’ She flashes me a reassuring smile. I have nothing to worry about with Kitty Kat on the prowl.

Jupiter, my security, comes down the corridor towards me, greeting me with a breezy hello. He’s a tough, burly guy, always immaculately suited and with an unexpectedly sweet smile and a cute sense of humour. He patrols my parties and makes sure that there’s no trouble. The three of us make up the core of the Killing Kittens’ family. ‘Great place,’ he says, nodding with approval. ‘I’m going to keep nimble, with four suites to look after, but we’ll be fine.’

‘Great. Thanks, Joop.’ I smile at him. He’s open-minded, which is a must, but also completely level-headed. I’ve never seen him bat an eyelid at all the goings-on. He’s also very sensitive to atmosphere, sensing when there might be a need to have a quiet word, calm someone down or escort them discreetly off the premises. ‘Right. I’m going to do my check.’

Tonight, in honour of the occasion, I’ve renamed the suites Heart, Rose, Cupid and Lovebirds. Hearts will be beating fast tonight, and even some of my shy and retiring Kittens will turn into bold lovebirds, cooing at others to join them in bed once the action starts. We walk through the suites, inspecting the set up. Kitty Kat is spritzing the rooms with a scented spray and scattering rose petals over the coffee tables.

‘It’s lavender. It creates a sense of warmth,’ she says with authority. ‘And did you know that rose petals also represent confidentiality? In Ancient Rome, a wild rose was placed on the door of rooms where confidential matters were being discussed.’

‘Very fitting for tonight,’ I reply.

Kitty Kat’s eyes sparkle behind her mask. ‘Are you happy with the suites?’

‘Absolutely. They’re perfect.’ All four rooms are smart and modern, with sitting rooms furnished with white sofas and chairs, glass tables and lamps. The beds are large and inviting, made up in crisp white linen. Each suite has a view of the glittering city skyline. Outside are private terraces so guests can go out if the atmosphere gets too steamy inside. One suite has a private hot tub on its terrace.

‘It’s great,’ I say. ‘And a bargain too, which makes me happy.’ I check my watch. ‘People should be arriving around now. I’ll go down and see what’s happening.’

Downstairs guests have already started turning up. The men are smartly dressed in suits and the women all look wonderful, most wearing cocktail dresses. Their masks are on and they are sipping champagne.

I clock Miss D at the bar in deep conversation with a man. She’s wearing a red strapless dress designed to grab attention. I’d expect nothing less. But I have a feeling it won’t be long before she’s slinking upstairs to take it off.

I walk among the guests, greeting the ones I know, and then sit at the bar to soak up the flirtatious atmosphere. A pretty young woman comes up. She’s wearing a red floral-print dress and seems full of confidence. Her handsome companion looks the total opposite: he is full of nerves and out of his depth. They take a seat next to me at the bar. She immediately gives him a glass of champagne, which he holds in shaking hands.

‘Just drink it,’ she says. ‘It’ll calm your nerves. You’re acting like a virgin.’

‘Nonsense,’ he snaps, looking mildly flustered.

‘No, it’s not. You look like Dustin Hoffman in that film The Graduate when he goes to sleep with Mrs Robinson for the first time. Seriously, get a grip. I don’t know why you joined KK if this is how you feel.’

He shoots her a look. ‘You know why.’

She sighs. ‘Listen, it was fun, but we’re not getting back together. We’re just friends now. That’s why I find it slightly odd that you wanted to join. But as long as you’re here, please try to man up, OK? And try not to be jealous.’ She frowns. ‘I’m just not sure this was a good idea. I mean, I’m used to this. You’re not.’

‘It’s OK, I can handle it.’ The man still looks nervous, though, and he takes a big gulp of his drink. ‘It’s just a bit weird, that’s all. I’m going to need a bit of Dutch courage.’

I want to congratulate my new KK virgin, the Graduate, for making it to his first sex party and encourage him to relax and enjoy it, but just then he chokes on his champagne and I turn to see Trolley Dolly sauntering my way. She’s got all eyes on her, as usual. She clearly meant business when she said she wanted to play with a married couple: she’s wearing a blue lacy corset and a double-tiered ruffle skirt with a matching wedding veil and garter. No wonder he’s a bit taken aback. He can’t stop staring as she comes up to me and kisses me on each cheek.

‘I do. I do. I do!’ she says between kisses. ‘I’m the Victoria’s Secret sexy little bride tonight. So where are Mr and Mrs?’ She scours the room for her playmates.

‘Patience is a virtue, Trolley Dolly,’ I reply, giggling.

‘Oh, I’ll wait all night if I have to. I’ll keep my eyes open, but no doubt they’ll find me in my bridal attire!’

‘You won’t be disappointed,’ I promise.

‘Neither will they, I can assure you,’ she smiles. I realize that three beautiful young women are staring at her across the bar. Trolley Dolly is just irresistible to my members; she has amazing sexual charisma.

‘I’ve got to go,’ I say. ‘I’ll send Mr and Mrs your way when I see them. Have fun tonight.’

I leave Trolley Dolly in high spirits, the Graduate and his friend still staring, and head back to the lift. I ride up to the penthouse with a young woman in her early twenties who’s wearing a black glittering eye mask, and her partner, who’s sporting a flamboyant red Venetian one. Clutching her lover’s hand, she turns to me and asks in a thick French accent: ‘Have you been to one of these parties before?’

‘Yes, many times,’ I reply, smiling reassuringly. She seems more curious than frightened, though.

‘Am I too young for this?’

‘No. As long as you’re over 18, you’re fine. You’ll find all ages here.’

She whispers, ‘Do people really start having sex?’

‘Yes, some do. But not everyone. It is really down to you.’ The lift stops and the doors open. ‘Just enjoy your evening,’ I add as I step out.

I head to the Heart suite, where the party is already in full swing. It hasn’t taken long for people to lose their inhibitions tonight. Perhaps it’s the inviting beds with their stretch of white linen and room enough for plenty of people to play together. In one corner of the bed, a curvaceous naked woman is on her hands and knees. Her long blonde locks cascade over her back and her bottom looks very round in this position. She is fully exposed as she looks over her shoulder, smiling happily at her partner, who’s still fully clothed and masked. She wiggles her hips to signal that she’s ready for him to have his way with her, and he quickly unzips his trousers, too aroused to do more than free his huge erection. He pauses only to tear open a condom wrapper and slip the condom on before he slides his length into her. She begins to wail in ecstasy as he digs his hands into her waist and thrusts into her, starting slowly and then picking up speed until he is penetrating her hard and fast. They seem to be having a splendid time, and they’re not the only ones. All around, couples are kissing and caressing, and on the bed there’s a tangle of limbs and mouths and stroking hands.

A young Asian man is standing by the side of the bed watching five women in various stages of undress but all with their heels on, playing with each other. Next to him is a pretty brunette in red silk underwear who’s passionately kissing another girl with a short peroxide-white haircut. His eyes are glazed and I can tell that he’s trying hard to control his breathing, but it quickens as the brunette slides off her red silk knickers just inches from him and moves her legs slightly apart to reveal her swollen lips. She asks in a sweet voice if her girlfriend would like to kiss her somewhere else altogether and the peroxide pixie-cut girl wastes no time in diving downwards to start pleasuring her.

The young man looks fit to burst, but he can do nothing else other than watch.

She’s naughty, I think, smiling inwardly. I know the pretty brunette is his girlfriend, as I rubberstamped their joint membership. She’s loving Killing Kittens’ golden rule: men must wait to be invited. Women make the rules and only they can break them. The more she moans as her female companion pleasures her, the more he desires her, and the greater his arousal. He can’t keep his hands off her when she finally reaches for him, her smile promising sex as she undoes his belt and carefully lowers his zip, before pulling him onto the bed to join them both.

I’m glad to see that all’s well so far.

I need some air.

I head to the Cupid suite, which has the largest terrace. It’s chilly outside with a fierce wind buffeting the rooftop, but a couple in their forties are sitting outside in the Jacuzzi. They look blissfully happy, chatting and laughing. Through the glass doors of the suite, I spot the young French lady sitting on a sofa in the suite, watching the mass of naked flesh on the bed. Apprehensive no longer, she’s now relaxed and aroused, her hands touching her lover’s body as he frees her breasts from their bra and fondles them lovingly.

I head along the terrace and go into the Rose suite, but turn around and head straight out when I spot Plaything with a woman in the Japanese bath having full-on sex.

I think I’ll leave him to it. Glad to see the neck brace is off, though. I’m sure that adds to his pulling power.

I bump into Jupiter, who’s been on patrol. ‘How are things?’

‘Fine. No trouble. It’s the men I have to keep an eye on more than the girls, but they’re all playing by the rules, even the new members. No need for any reminders yet. But you ought to talk to Kitty Kat.’

‘Really?’ I’m worried at once. ‘Why?’

‘It’s Miss D, I think. Kitty Kat’s near the lifts.’

Sighing, I make my way through the throng to the corridor where Kitty Kat is standing, still armed with her clipboard.

‘Jupiter told me you’re worried about Miss D,’ I say, going up to her.

‘Yes, I’m afraid so. She’s acting a little erratically. And she’s made more than one trip to the loo in the last 20 minutes.’

My heart sinks. I wish Miss D could learn to control herself. I also wish that she’d respect my friendship and my rules, but she seems incapable of it. If I weren’t so fond of her, she’d drive me mad. What am I saying? She does drive me mad. ‘Is it drugs?’

‘I think so.’

‘I can’t believe she’d be so stupid. She knows how I feel about it, and what the consequences could be.’ My fury starts to grow. ‘Where is she now?’

‘She’s in the bathroom in the Lovebird suite, I think.’

I head there, marching along with my eyes blazing, Kitty Kat following on behind. When I get there the door is locked and I rap firmly on it.

‘Miss D! Come out right now. If you don’t open the door, Kitty Kat will break it down. I’m going to count to 10.’

A voice floats out from behind the door, its tone unconcerned. ‘Ems, is that you?’

‘You know it’s me. Now open up!’

‘Just checking. Better to be safe than sorry!’

‘If you don’t open up, you’ll be very sorry!’

‘Give me a sec, Ems,’ she says, her voice wavering a little now. There’s suddenly a lot of noise and activity going on inside: the loo flushes, the taps are on and I think I can hear the sound of fast and frantic snorting.

I narrow my eyes and say loudly, ‘That’s it. Your time is up. We’re going to break the door right now.’

The door opens and Miss D peers round it, all wide-eyed and innocent. ‘You want to speak to me?’

‘Cut the Miss Innocent act. Exactly what have you been taking tonight?’

‘Oh! Er … nothing.’

‘What’s with the straw you’re carrying in your hand then?’ I ask, grabbing it from her. She knows the game is up and looks sheepish. ‘All right, Ems. I’ve had a bit of coke. I only brought a gram with me. It’s no big deal.’ She rolls her eyes as if to indicate that I’m making a big fuss out of nothing.