Back in Service (3 page)

Slowly, Leo obeyed, revealing his man’s firm rump, and as she approached him he tensed his muscles so his shapely buttocks appeared even more defined to her appreciative eyes.

‘I hope you will take this correction to heart,’ she told him. ‘Your insolence shall never go unpunished, so mind you behave yourself in future. But harsh words are not enough; you need to be properly punished in order to learn your lesson.’ She raised the flexible rod in her right hand, her bosom heaving beneath the white shirt. She brought the switch down hard upon his pliant flesh, heard him gasp as she saw his body recoil beneath the blow, and watched a red stripe appear across the pale skin of his left buttock.

‘And again,’ she announced. This time, the stinging blow fell on his right cheek, but Leo’s bottom was braced against it and the rod landed with a resounding crack.

‘One more…’

He gasped loudly this time beneath the impact, and then gave a low moan of fulfilment as he fell facedown across the bed. ‘Thank you, George,’ he muttered, pulling himself up onto the mattress and slipping beneath the sheet. ‘Forgive me, but I am exhausted now. Hetty will make up a bed for you in the corner when she returns. Make yourself at home until then. Do not give me another thought, I shall sleep all the more soundly for that welcome diversion.’

He pulled the sheet up over his head and Hetty knew this was her cue to change back into her own clothes. This time, however, she would not follow the usual script. She was determined to take up Milord’s invitation, and it would be safer to travel alone through the streets of Paris as George. Slipping silently out of the apartment, she crept downstairs, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

Hetty had never been out alone on the streets of Paris at night, but her bold stride attracted only a few curious glances as she descended to the square below the
Sacré Cœur
where a cab could usually be found. Dressed as George she felt strangely confident, but her heart was still thudding in her chest as she gave her instructions to the driver and climbed up into the dark interior of the hansom cab.

As the horse began clopping slowly over the cobbles, she felt obliged to shout to the driver, ‘Come on, man, I have not got all night!’ the way a true gentleman might.

Soon they were trotting at a faster pace, heading south through the narrow streets towards the Seine, and she sat back in the leather seat reflecting on what she was about to do. She left Leo sound asleep, but there was every chance he would wake in the night and find her gone. Her only alibi was her friend Marie, a sickly woman she could say she had gone to visit and found in such a bad state she felt obliged to remain at her bedside all night.

Her thoughts drifted to what awaited her in reality at the end of her journey. There was the possibility Milord would fail to recognise her and refuse to admit her in men’s clothing. It was a risky venture, for she did not have the money to pay for the carriage ride there, let alone for the journey home, and a cold fear took hold of her as she contemplated being stranded in the heart of Paris with no money.

Fortunately, before the full implications of her predicament could sink in, they reached the street near the Opera where Milord had his residence in exile – a large house set well back behind black wrought iron railings and an imposing gate. A man was stationed in a small hut just inside the grounds, and he promptly unlatched the gate when he saw the cab pull up.

‘Wait a moment, cabbie,’ Hetty said with all the authority she could muster, and approached the gatekeeper. She showed him the visiting card, apologising profusely for its being torn in half as the man peered at her suspiciously.

‘What name shall I give to Milord?’ he asked.

‘Err… tell him Monsieur Leo, the artist he was with this afternoon, has accepted his invitation after all.’ She knew there was no point in referring to herself as ‘madam’ whilst dressed as a man.

It seemed to take an eternity for the man to return from the main house, but his step was light and he went straight up to the cabbie to pay the fare while Hetty breathed a sigh of relief. Even so, she was filled with trepidation as she followed the gatekeeper up the gravel path to the great oak door. There were lights in all the windows and she could hear music drifting from inside the mansion. When the door opened and the full impact of the scene burst upon her senses, she let out a gasp of amazement mingled with fear, for she had never seen such a gathering in her life, not even at Longton.

There were about thirty men in the room, some in fancy dress and others wearing more sober evening attire, and mingling amongst them were women whose bold demeanour, heavily painted faces and revealing clothing suggested they were all ladies of the night. But she hardly had time to feel out of place when Milord suddenly appeared before her dressed in the elaborate costume of an eastern potentate with a jewelled turban perched on his head.

‘I was told to expect my new friend, Leo, the painter,’ he said, his wry expression suggesting he knew exactly who was standing before him. ‘Instead I find his younger brother has paid me a visit. How delightful. I trust your brother and his lovely wife are well?’

‘Very well, thank you, Milord. Leo told me you would not mind me taking advantage of your generosity in this way.’

He laughed in a richly mocking tone. ‘Now that all depends,’ he said archly.

‘On what, Milord?’ She tried to conceal her anxiety.

‘On whether you are going to be a good sport and join in our fun and games.’

‘Oh yes, I shall indeed,’ she declared with all the enthusiasm she could muster.

‘Then first we require you to dress more suitably for the occasion. We have more men than women here tonight, as you see. I trust you will not be averse to dressing as a woman to even up the numbers? I am sure we can find you some suitable clothing. Therese!’

A woman standing nearby instantly broke off her conversation and floated to his side. She was wearing a low-cut gown that revealed most of her full bosom, and her legs were shamefully visible beneath the diaphanous folds of her skirt.

‘Come,
chérie
,’ she said, taking hold of Hetty’s hand with a knowing smile. ‘We shall find you some costume that will make you look
très belle!
’

Hetty followed her meekly into an antechamber where an assortment of fancy dress was arrayed on hangers. Therese took her duty seriously, examining various outfits with care before choosing a black and pink bouffant skirt with a black lace corselette, black mesh stockings, pink silk garters adorned with rosettes and a pair of high-heeled black slippers.

‘I think you will look very fine in this,
chérie
. Come, let me help you put it all on.’

Hetty had never worn such extravagant and daring clothing before, and she became quite passive as Therese began removing her male clothing.

‘Oh, so you are already in disguise!’ the woman exclaimed, giggling. ‘Then you know how to wear feminine clothing. First the corset… let me lace you in.’

Hetty was unused to her waist being constricted quite so tightly. At first it was hard for her to breathe, but she forced herself to take shallow breaths and speak in a whispery voice Therese pronounced to be very sexy.

When she was fully attired, the woman led her over to a pier glass on the opposite wall so she could view the full effect, and Hetty gasped to see herself dressed in such provocative garb. Her breasts were pushed high by the constricting corset, and her hips were thrust forward by the unnatural pose the high heels obliged her to adopt. When Therese added some rouge to her cheeks and lips, it was as if she was looking at an entirely different young woman.

‘You look quite delicious, my dear.’ Therese curled one of Hetty’s fair locks around her finger. ‘I am sure all the gentlemen will fall for you instantly, and I shall be insanely jealous.’

‘Tell me, Therese, what will happen tonight? I have never been to one of Milord’s parties before.’

‘Well, that is quite obvious, but do not worry,
ma petite
, just be sweet and obliging to all. They may wish to play a little rough with you later, but it is all in fun and you will come to no harm, I promise you.’

‘A little
rough?
’ Hetty repeated, frowning.

‘Oh, just a few strokes on the
derrière
, that sort of thing, all quite playful, and if you let yourself go a little you might even enjoy it.’ Laughing softly, she led Hetty back into the crowded ballroom, where a few couples were waltzing in a cheek-to-cheek fashion that seemed quite improper. But she had known all along this was hardly going to be a conventional
soirée
, and she allowed herself to be taken into the centre of the throng and introduced to Lord Faulkner, a handsome young man with a rakish appearance.

‘I have not seen you here before, have I?’ he asked with obvious interest. ‘Where on earth did Milord find a pretty thing like you?’

‘In
Montmartre
, my lord,’ she responded demurely.

‘Oh I say, very bohemian! Tell me, are you some kind of artist’s model?’

‘You could say that…’

He bent close enough for her to smell the musty, exotic scent of his cologne. ‘You do not pose in the altogether, by any chance?’

‘I have been known to do so,’ she replied just as softly, her eyes twinkling. She found she was rather enjoying being the focus of such a handsome man’s attention. For a moment she felt a pang of guilt as she thought of Leo lying innocently in bed at home, but then reminded herself she was doing this for their sake, to help get them out of their current financial difficulties. And the more she ingratiated herself with these rich dandies, the more likely she was to achieve her goal by the end of the evening.

The nobleman’s gaze swept across her up-thrust bosom like a caress, and Hetty felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She felt very exposed, both physically and emotionally; the buzz of excitement in the room was infectious. The atmosphere was one of heady anticipation, and as the music swelled to a crescendo the guests on the dance floor followed it in a frenzy of exhilaration. Then Milord held up his hand and the small band of musicians brought their music to an elegant finale before promptly taking themselves and their instruments out of the room. The dancers whirled around one last time and formed an expectant semi-circle around their host.

‘Now, my friends, we have reached the moment you have all been waiting for,’ he announced in a clear voice that thrilled through Hetty’s shamefully tingling body. ‘I promised you a very special auction and you shall have one. But first, I would like all the ladies to assemble over here beside me, while you gentlemen must back off a ways. Come, come…’ He clapped his hands briskly and Hetty followed the rest of the women as they herded around him like a flock of obedient sheep. His eyes feasted on their very obvious charms for a few moments, drawing out the suspense, before he went on.

‘You, my pretty creatures, are the precious goods offered for sale this evening, while
you
,’ he turned towards the men with a smile, ‘are to be the bidders. Dig deep into your pockets, gentlemen, for it is all in a good cause. These charming ladies will have given you excellent service before the night is over, service for which you are paying in advance. Now then, which of these beautiful slaves shall I put up for sale first? Ah yes, the lovely Therese. I can see you are eager to display your charms, my dear.’ He led her chivalrously up to the platform the musicians had vacated and made her stand on a low stool so all could see her. ‘Now then, what bid do I hear for this exquisite creature?’ he began the proceedings in an efficient tone.

‘Let us have a better look at the goods!’ someone shouted.

Milord raised one elegant eyebrow. ‘Can you not see what a high quality slave we have here?’

‘Show us her breasts!’ another man yelled, and a cheering chorus of approval travelled around the room.

The noble auctioneer gave a show of reluctance, but the crowd insisted, so he stepped forward and unlaced Therese’s red satin basque, allowing her ample and perfectly shaped breasts to fall out of their chemise and stand proud. Her dark nipples hardened, and even though she feigned a coy expression, Hetty sensed she was enjoying herself immensely.

‘Ten francs a tit!’ someone cried, rousing a grumbling chorus of disapproval.

Another gentleman demanded to see her arse, but at first Milord ignored him. Only when several others took up the request was he obliged to take it seriously. He then made Therese bend over and lifted up her voluminous skirt and petticoat to expose her bloomers.

‘No, her
bare
arse,’ the man insisted.

With a sigh, and much theatrical rolling of his eyes, Milord pulled down the baggy drawers to reveal a pair of firm pink buttocks, which wiggled provocatively at the assembly.

‘Twenty francs a cheek!’ someone called, and the room filled with laughter. The atmosphere was growing more raucous by the minute, and Hetty felt her pulse quicken with unwilling excitement wondering what would happen when it was
her
turn to stand on the platform.

The bidding continued, until a handsome young blade offered a hundred francs for Therese and his bid was accepted. He strode up to the platform to claim his prize, but Milord held up his hand.