Swan (26 page)

My heart almost stopped. I couldn’t believe
what I was hearing.

Chet fell silent again as he began solemnly
applying the nail varnish. After each application, he lowered his head, blew on
my toes, then smiled up at me for approval. ‘The thing is, I tried so hard to
fight it, tried so hard to put you out of my mind, but couldn’t. It was
impossible. Remember that guy you saw me with that night at the salsa club?’ I
nodded. ‘Well, as you know he’s one of Pani’s people. He’d been following us.
He told me I had to give you up. He told me we were getting too close and Pani
wasn’t happy about it. He didn’t want me blowing my cover. And do you know,
Pani even sent me a one-way ticket to France as a sweetener for me to leave
you.’

I bit down on my lip, dizzy with excitement.

‘Now, try to stay still, Madeline,’ he said
sternly, focusing again on my toes. ‘If you move, this is gonna smudge. And
that’d be a shame, as I’m doing such a great job.’

I laid back, closed my eyes, listened to the
sound of his breathing.

‘In a way, I think the guy did us a favour.
I spent those weeks in Paris just thinking about you. Couldn’t get you out of
my head. That was why I had to come back and see you. That was why I had to
tell you everything.’

He looked at me inquisitively, as if
expecting a response.

‘I-I don’t know what to say, Chet. I-I mean ...’
I stopped talking, couldn’t meet his gaze. I was babbling like a moron.

Chet stood. ‘Hey, do you wanna see my David
costume?’ He was like an excited school boy promising to show me a new toy.

‘Yes of course,’ I smiled, pleased that we’d
moved on to a more light hearted topic. He threw on his clothes and left the
room. Then in a couple of minutes, he returned from his flat bearing a large
cardboard box.

‘I used to keep this in the closet for
safe-keeping,’ he explained. ‘If you’d stayed in there long enough, you’d have
probably seen it.’

He knelt down and proudly showed me the key
components that made up David Powell: a flesh-coloured body suit which gave him
the illusion of having a pot belly, a mono-fibre wig, and something that looked
like a sophisticated rubber mask. It all reminded me of stuff that Robin
Williams might have worn in
Mrs Doubtfire
.

I was full of questions: surely the
application of the mask/make-up must have taken him hours? Did he have to
re-apply it everyday or sleep with it on? Did he ever get hot under it, and had
there been any unfortunate accidents while he was out in public?

‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I’ve been doing
make-up for years, so I’m used to it. Pani’s people made this gear specially
for me, with ease and comfort in mind. I’d say the whole transformation takes
me about half an hour a day.’

My eyes were large as saucers. What
Hollywood could do with prosthetics in the twenty-first century was amazing. Chet
had really had me fooled!

I picked up the mask and sat on the bed,
studying it. It was so life-like, so real. ‘So, what inspired you to create
David? I mean, what were your influences for his character?’

‘I’m so glad you asked me that!’ he
exclaimed. ‘I had him as a cross between Eric Idle and Roger Moore. I don’t
know if that ever occured to you?’

I nodded enthusiastically. Yes it did. I
could see now that behind David’s debonair flamboyance there was a definate air
of
Monty Python
.

‘And the name? Why did you decide to call
yourself David Powell?’

‘Well, it’s a hybrid between two of my
favourite British directors – David Lean and Michael Powell. I don’t know
if you’re familiar with their films but -’

‘
Lawrence
of Arabia
and
A Matter of Life and
Death
.’

‘You know them! That’s amazing. Ah, you see,
Maria would never have known something like that. That’s why I love you.’

After a while, we stopped talking about
David and pondered what we were going to have for dinner. Both of us were
famished, and it was now well past eight o’clock. In the end, I suggested we
call out for a pizza. It was so hilarious when the delivery man arrived and I
had to pay for the food with Chet hidden in the bedroom.
If only you knew what’s going on
, I thought humourously as I took
the pizza boxes from him.

When we had both finished eating, we crashed
out in the living room and watched one of Chet’s films. It was so surreal
sitting there with him, listening to him giving a running commentary of all the
on-set gossip, what actors were a nightmare to work with and which scenes he
had most enjoyed shooting. It was like someone had beamed him down into my flat
from the
Star Trek
transporter.

I made sure I was extremely complimentary of
his performance, shamelessly stroked his ego and laughing excessively at the
funny bits.

During one of the breaks between films, I
went into the kitchen and fished out a tub of Belgian chocolate Haagen Dasz
from the fridge. ‘Do you fancy some ice-cream?’ I asked, snuggling next to him
on the sofa. I was in complete Heaven.

‘I love how much you love food,’ he smirked.
‘Maria never ate anything but brown rice and nuts. It used to drive
me
nuts.’ He flashed his tongue at me.

We both laughed.

Chapter
Nineteen

We didn’t go out for three days. On Monday morning I
called into work sick. Chet and I couldn’t get enough of each other, and he had
forbidden me from leaving the flat. I was his willing prisoner, his captive
audience. We spent most of the time making love, watching TV, sipping Dom
Perignon, getting take-outs and talking. Now that I had got my mojo back, I
found that I had enough stamina to go the full distance during our marathon
sessions. I did anything he wanted me to – no request was too dirty or
risqué for me; I was dedicated to one thing only – pleasing him no matter
what.

Life with Chet over those days was blissful.
Exciting. Unpredictable. I never knew what was coming next. For example, one
morning I arrived in his flat to find a note stuck to the fridge door:
Take your clothes off, then go to the
bedroom.

I glanced around, almost like I expected to find an
invisible audience behind me. The whole place was eerily quiet except for the
rapid beating of my heart. There was no sign of Chet anywhere. I walked into
the hallway, called out to him. There was no answer.

Tentatively, I padded towards the bedroom and
started undressing. My jeans. My t-shirt. My pumps. I found another note pinned
to the dresser mirror.
Lie on the bed and
wait
.

Pensively, I lay down on the bed, got myself
comfortable and stared up at the ceiling. My hair lay loose around by face and
shoulders like an auburn halo. Where was Chet and what did he have in store for
me?

I closed my eyes, breathed in, breathed out. My mind
wandered over the possibilities. Then the door opened and Chet walked in. He
was completely naked and in his hand he carried a silk blindfold. I started to
get excited. He looked so bronzed and gorgeous; so divine, I had to bite my lip
to stop myself from screaming.

Chet stood motionless by the door, staring at me
like he was deep in thought. Then, he walked to the bed, leaned over me, raised
me up slightly and secured the blindfold around my head. He then eased me back
against the pillows and assured me that I was in safe hands.

‘Do you trust me?’ he whispered seductively.

‘Yes.’

The suspense was killing me. Being blindfolded was
such an exhilarating experience. It heightened my sensitivity, made me aware of
the slightest touch, the slightest sound.

Suddenly I heard a low rattling noise, like marbles
hitting glass. I caught me breath. What on earth could that be? The noise
continued and seemed to be getting closer and closer. I shuddered as I felt a
freezing cold ice cube at the tip of my navel. Slowly, sensuously, it worked
its way up my stomach, sending tingles of consternation through my body. I felt
a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

Then Chet softly blew on the trail of icy water,
caressing my body with his fingers as he went. The contrast between hot and
cold was the most amazing feeling. Then he pressed down on me and covered my
mouth, throat, stomach, breasts and thighs in kisses. I let out a low groan of satisfaction.

‘Tell me what you want,‘ he murmured. ‘I’ll do
anything.
Anything
. Nothing is taboo.
Just say the word.’

I flushed with embarrassment. I was still shy about
vocalising my desires, didn’t quite know how to articulate my most salacious
thoughts.

‘Well ...?’ he purred.

‘Er, why don’t you surprise me?’ I giggled.

Chet lifted his hot body off me and disappeared from
the room. Straightaway I heard the sound of cupboards opening and closing in
the kitchen. Eventually, he returned. Something round and fleshy was pushed
into my mouth. Something sweet and tangy. A strawberry. I savoured the flavour
with my tongue. Chet fed me another, and another, till I had strawberry juice
drizzling all down my cheeks and throat. Then, he placed a strawberry in my
navel and ate it. His lips felt so warm and soft.

Chet’s hands continued to wander, skilfully
massaging my body with artistic subtlety. ‘Have you ever had a tantric
massage?’ he whispered suddenly.

‘Uh-uh. What’s that?’

He breathed in deeply and exhaled loudly. ‘It’s all
about awakening your inner goddess. About worshipping you like to deserve to be
worshipped ... making a connection.’

I didn’t know what the heck he was on about, but
whatever it was sounded good, so I lay still. Chet fell silent, like he was
meditating, then slowly, he started running his hands over my body again.
Massaging every inch of me with sweet smelling oil – even the tips of my
fingers. It was such an intimate, such a divine, almost spiritual feeling. I
had never experienced anything quite like it.

As Chet continued to work my body, he explained what
he was doing; how each particular technique was releasing my sexual energy
– my ‘chakras.’ He started using a lot of Eastern jargon that I didn’t
understand. Apparently my privates were called a ‘Yoni’ and his were a
‘Lingam.’ If I hadn’t been so turned on, I probably would have burst out
laughing. But as it was, Chet held me mesmerised. He knew he had me in the palm
of his hand.

After a while, his hands travelled to my Yoni and
with his thumb and forefinger, he began to massage it. Gently at first, then
gradually applying more pressure. It all started to get too much for me. I
cried out. Once, very loudly. But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. No, he
continued, taking me to levels of pleasure I didn’t think possible. Then,
slowly, he started to fuck me, working his hips with a combination of delicacy
and fury, never letting himself get too carried away by his desire. He wanted
to prolong my pleasure for as long as possible. This was a man who knew exactly
how to take a woman to the precipice of ecstasy yet leave her still begging for
more.

‘You’re like a female version of me,’ he said, as we
lay basking in the mutual delirium of our last orgasm. ‘You’re insatiable, do
you know that?’

I giggled and nuzzled my head into his chest.

‘No really,’ he continued, ‘I can’t get enough of
you. It’s like you’re a drug I’m addicted to.’

‘That’s exactly how I feel about you.’

‘Is it really?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Good.’

I hesitated. ‘Chet?’

‘Yes?’

‘Have you ever thought about what you’re gonna do
next? I mean, are you gonna stay here forever, or do you plan to go back to
your ... to your old life?’

Chet moodily pondered this question. ‘I don’t know,’
he admitted. ‘It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. I suppose
I’ll have to put in an appearance at some point, just to let everyone know I’m
okay. And anyway, it’s just not practical for me to go on living this way.’

I managed to mask my rising emotions. ‘What do you
mean “not practical?”’

‘Well for one thing, there’s my financial situation.
I can’t access any of my money and have to rely on Pani for everything. I’m on
his payroll until I bring Chet Vincent back from the dead.’ He gave a bitter
laugh. ‘I mean, Pani has control over every aspect of my life. Even this
apartment belongs to him.’

‘What?’ I raised my head. ‘Panikkos Pantelli owns
these flats?’

‘Yeah, and about a dozen other penthouses in Canary
Wharf. He’s got properties all over the world. How did you think I ended up
living here? You didn’t think it was a coincidence? Pani sorted out everything
– the apartment, my cameras - everything. I owe him a lot, he’s been
awesome. He’s the one that made this all possible ...’ Chet’s voice trailed
off. There was an air of uncertainty in his voice. I wondered if things were as
great between him and Pani and as he made out.

‘So do you trust him?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you trust him not to betray you?’