The Ninety Days of Genevieve (10 page)

She thought about him swimming, climbing out of the pool, his tanned body glistening with water. She knew his shoulders were wide and his stomach flat. She knew his buttocks were tight and there wasn't an ounce of spare flesh round his waist or his hips. She had never seen him naked, but she was certain he would look good. She imagined his swimming trunks reduced to the barest minimum, a posing pouch that disguised nothing and was held up only by the thinnest of ties. It was an attractive picture. She stayed with it. Her hands would be on his hips, moving downwards, grasping the ties, snapping them. She imagined him stripped. She would be clothed and he would be naked. That would make him vulnerable. It would give her the advantage. She would run her hands over his body, exploring. Over his chest, his flat stomach. Her hands would slide down and grasp his balls. She would feel his penis swell as she played with it, rubbing and caressing. She would listen to the sounds he made as she excited him. She would feel his body trembling, slipping out of control.

Exactly as she was feeling at that very moment. Damn it, she thought, even thinking about him turns me on. But she doubted that he felt the same. The more she thought about him the more convinced she became that he didn't see any kind of long-term relationship as part of his future. Ninety days were all she was going to get. And a career advancement when she signed him on as a client.

Or, she thought, was it really
if
she signed him on?

However, despite feeling sure that he saw her only as a casual sexual companion, she still experienced a thrill of excitement when she answered the phone and heard his voice.

'How do you fancy an afternoon in the country?'

Outdoor sex, she thought. Sex in a haystack. Did they still have haystacks these days? 'Do you want me to dress up as a milk maid?' she asked.

'Dress smart, but casual/ he said. 'There's only one rule: I want you to shave.'

That surprised her. If he preferred his women shaved why hadn't he asked her in the first place? 'I thought you liked proof that I was a natural blonde?' she said sweetly.

'I like variety,' he said.

'Aren't you going to send me a clothes parcel?'

'Not this time.' He sounded relaxed. The sexy authority that had coloured his voice when he had arranged their previous meetings was missing. He could have been any attractive man ringing her up for a date. 'I'll trust your good taste. Wear something you think an Arab millionaire would like.'

'Diaphanous harem pants?' she suggested, not really believing him.

'You're not auditioning for a Hollywood musical,' he said. 'This Arab went to Eton. He likes beautiful women, and he has impeccable taste.'

'Why have I got to attract him?'

'I didn't say you had to attract him. I said wear something you think he might like.'

'Same thing,' she said. She had a feeling he was playing a game with her and it made her angry. She did not want to dress up to attract someone else. 'If you want me to undress for this Arab, or make love to him, I'm not sure I like the idea.'

'You want to back out?'

The question came a little too fast for her peace of mind. Was that what he was planning? To force her to break their agreement? If she did, no doubt his conscience (if he had one) would be clear. He could take his account to Lucci's - and to Jade Chalfont. Or was she being paranoid? Jealous? Insecure? 'Just explain,' she requested.

His voice changed. 'You know better than that. I don't explain. I just give the orders. You agreed, remember?'

'Well, all right,' she said. 'But if you don't give me some idea of where we're going, how dan I choose appropriate clothes?'

'To a private antiques fair,' he said. 'Invitation only.' His voice was charming again, the perfect gentleman. 'Do you like antiques?'

'I don't collect them, if that's what you mean.'

'It isn't,' he said. 'Do you think you'll be bored?'

'If you mean do I want to back out,' she said sharply, 'no, I don't. I like museums, so I'll probably enjoy an antiques fair too.'

'Maybe you will,' he said softly.

'When is it?'

'Saturday,' he said. 'I'll come for you at one-thirty.'

She suddenly remembered her promise to Mike Keel. 'Not this Saturday?'

'You've got a date?'

'Yes,' she said. When he did not say anything she added: 'I'm helping at the sports centre open day. It's for the hospice.'

Why am I explaining? she thought. Why didn't I let him think some other man was going to take me out? Would he care? Would he imagine how she would behave in bed with someone else the way she so often found herself fantasising about him? She rather doubted it. Did he ever think about her when they were apart? And if he did, was she just one in a long list of females he could use to satisfy his mental picture show? Did he even need to use his imagination when he seemed to find it easy enough to bribe women into making his fantasies real?

'Lucky for you,' he said, 'it's next Saturday. The twenty-fourth.' He paused. 'Would you have backed out of your charity engagement?'

'Of course,' she said.

'Business comes first?' His voice was slightly mocking.

She thought that was unfair. He had already reminded her that she risked terminating their agreement by refusing his orders. She did not think the sports centre would loose any money if she did not turn up, but she was glad that she would be able to keep her promise to Mike Keel. 'We have an agreement, remember?' It was a pleasure to throw his words back at him.

'Yes,' he said, in a neutral voice. 'We have, haven't we?'

She could not decide what to wear for the charity demonstration. She was not going to play a serious match so she thought she could afford to look a little more glamorous than usual, even if she did not intend to take up Mike's suggestion and wear a bikini. In the end she chose a tight white top and a short tennis skirt. She twisted her hair into a pleat and applied a little more make-up than usual. She refused to admit that she was doing this for anyone else's benefit but her own. If people were going to watch her she wanted to look good. If the audience included Jade Chalfont, looking good was even more desirable.

Mike met Genevieve in the entrance foyer. 'We've got John and Frank Bernson here. If you play a demo game with Frank, John says he'll give a commentary. After that anyone who wants to can come onto the court and ask questions, or maybe have a go. If there's enough people interested in learning we'll start a beginner's session.'

The balcony overlooking the squash court was crowded but Genevieve was used to spectators watching her play. Once John began his talk she concentrated on trying to perform the moves he was explaining, and to keep the game fairly slow until the end, when she heard John explaining that squash was one of the fastest racket games in the world - as Genevieve and Frank would demonstrate. For a few moments the two of them obliged, and the squash ball rocketed from the wall like a noisy bullet as they each tried to score. When they had finished, Genevieve was surprised to hear the crowd applaud.

More people than she expected came down to the court and Genevieve partnered some of them in a slow demonstration. Several others claimed to have played squash at school or college and wondered if they were too old to take it up again. By the time she and Frank had finished answering questions and explaining points, Genevieve realised that she had been on the court much longer than she intended.

'Fancy a drink?' Frank asked, mopping his face with a towel.

'I rather wanted to see one of the martial arts demos. I hope they're not over.'

'Shouldn't be/ Frank said. 'It's only quarter past three. I think I saw karate down for three o'clock. Ifs in the main hall. If you change your mind about that drink, I'll be in the bar.'

Genevieve could hear shouts coming from the sports hall as she approached it. The centre had been turned into a demonstration area and there was quite a crowd watching younger members of the local club going through their paces. The commentator was explaining that karate was a disciplined sport that improved coordination, strength and flexibility.

The children were demonstrating the basic moves -punches, blocks and kicks - that everyone had to learn before they could progress to the more spectacular freestyle fighting. They looked serious and determined as they went through their paces, yelling with martial enthusiasm as they completed each set of moves. After they left the area to a round of applause, a young black belt demonstrated a
kata.
This, the commentator said, might look like a fancy gymnastic exercise but it was actually a series of defence and attack moves, woven into a pattern, and used for training purposes.

Although she knew nothing about karate, Genevieve was impressed by the young boy's speed and the sharp strength of his movements. When he followed his performance by showing how each of the
kata
moves worked against four opponents attacking him from different sides, she was even more impressed. The attackers - all youngsters of his own size - were obviously enjoying themselves pretending to be muggers and falling to the ground in make-believe agony as they were despatched. Genevieve joined in the applause when the demonstration was over.

'If that little bugger had a go at one of my boys I'd knock his head off/ a man said aggressively behind her.

'He wouldn't ever do that.' A woman next to

Genevieve turned angrily. 'Unless your son attacked him.'

'My son wouldn't attack anyone/ the man said. 'But this stuff just encourages kids to be bullies.'

'It certainly doesn't/ the woman said. 'My children train with this club. They're taught self-control and respect.'

'By hitting people?' the man sneered. 'Teaching kids ifs big to kick someone's head in? I prefer my kid to kick a football. We don't need all that kung-fuey junk over here.'

He stalked away and the woman turned to Genevieve, lifting her eyebrows in mock despair. 'Some people just don't know what the real martial arts are all about.'

'Your sons do karate?' Genevieve asked.

'My daughters,' the woman said. 'They're not here today because they're staying with my ex this weekend. But getting their black belts did them the world of good. It's given them confidence, and that improved their school work. But they're not silly enough to think a black belt makes them superhuman.'

The crowd on the other side of the demonstration area parted and Genevieve saw six adults, five men and a woman, step forward. They all wore elaborate samurai-style armour protecting their chests, legs and arms and carried masked helmets and bamboo-bladed swords.

'The next martial art we are going to see is the kendo/ a cool voice announced. 'The Way of the Sword.'

Jade Chalfont was standing almost directly opposite Genevieve, a microphone in her hand. She was wearing a white karate-style jacket tucked into a long black
hakama,
the traditional Japanese 'skirt', usually worn by males. Her black hair was pulled back into a severe bun. Coupled with her pale skin and the red gloss of her mouth, it made her look like a combination of samurai and geisha. Genevieve was certain she had chosen the look deliberately. It was both sexy and aggressive. Jade Chalfont, Genevieve thought, would make an impressive dominatrix, uniformed in black leather.

While Jade described the different parts of the protective armour and explained that bamboo swords were used in early training, her six students wound scarves round their heads and then donned their helmets. They bowed and picked up their weapons. All their moves had a ritual slowness about them which gave an impression of calm control. They demonstrated various attack and defence moves, and then the woman and one of the men fought together while Jade's cool voice explained the methods of scoring used in competition bouts.

Genevieve was just wondering why Jade had not shown off her own skill when she saw one of the students take the microphone. Jade bent down and picked up a sword that Genevieve had not noticed before. It had a long blade that glittered in the sports-hall lights.

'You may have already seen a young
karate-ka
demonstrate a
kata
,' the student announced. 'We also have
kata
in kendo. Sensei Chalfont will now demonstrate one for you. As you can see she will use a genuine Japanese sword. In the hand of an expert this sword can sever a man's neck with one blow.'

He did not need to add that Sensei Chalfont was such an expert. It was obvious from the way Jade moved forward, bowed, and took up her starting position. Her movements were calm and economical but there was a quiet arrogance about her. When she began her
kata
she moved with fluid grace and speed. It looked effortless but Genevieve sensed the hidden power behind the ritual actions. She had no doubt that Jade's sword would slice through flesh and bone with ease.

Jade completed her demonstration, hesitated for a brief moment, and then bowed. The crowd applauded and moved towards her. Genevieve turned away. She did not want Jade Chalfont to know that she had been watching.

'Not going to join the kendo class?'

She spun round, startled. James Sinclair was standing by the entrance doors. 'Aren't you?' she responded, concealing her surprise.