Salome's Garden Page 6

  “Rowena Swift,” he whispered with adoration in his voice. “Please marry me!”

  The smile froze on her face for a long moment before gradually waning as it was replaced by a look of disbelief.

  “I’m serious,” Ridley affirmed, reading her expression.

  “Are you crazy?” Rowena was sure he must have been drinking, or else partaking of some illegal substance before her arrival.

  “No, I’ve never been saner in my whole life,” Ridley assured her. He took her hands in his own broad grasp. “I love you. I’ve loved you ever since I first saw you. You’re all I can think about.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” snorted Rowena. Bobby had been just as easy with his words. And just how many of her clients would have gladly made the same proposition were it not for their spouses or position in the higher eschelons?

  But despite her cynicism, there was something in Ridley’s blue eyes that she had never seen before. The fire of his lust may have died, but it had left behind a lingering glow in his gaze that she found compelling and, dare she say, even convincing.

  “I…I have to go,” she stammered, scrambling from the bed in sudden panic.

  “Please, don’t,” pleaded her besotted admirer, catching hold of her wrist as she tried to flee. “Stay a while and let’s talk.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Ridley,” she snapped, dressing so fast that her clothes looked as though they had simply been hung in haphazard fashion over her frame. She yanked her wrist free and held up both hands in a show of determination. “Just let’s not complicate a perfectly good working relationship. The sex was great – you can even have it on me if it will make you happy. But love?”

  “Rowena, please!”

  But the hotel room door was already closing. “Goodbye, Ridley,” Rowena said, and left.

  Indecent Exposure

  Rowena’s worries about bumping into Ridley again while in the line of duty were ultimately needless. She learned from a confused Clarissa that he had upped and left at a moment’s notice, with no explanation for his resignation, and leaving no forwarding address. Clarissa presumed that he had merely been poached by another escort company offering him more responsibilities or salary, or both.

  “It certainly can’t be because he’s been offered more perks,” Clarissa complained to Rowena one day shortly after his departure, sore at losing her trusted second-in-command. “After all, he got to fuck you first of all, didn’t he?”

  Rowena smiled thinly, still flattered that she was seen as a some kind of sexual standard by which all other comers were measured, yet secretly conscious that she was the reason for Ridley’s otherwise inexplicable departure. She had half a mind to confess all to Clarissa, but kept it zipped tighter than a priest’s flies – well, some priests anyway. The only thing she wanted to do was let the whole misunderstanding – and that is what she truly believed it was – just blow over. Opening her mouth wouldn’t alter anything now anyway. Better to just simply get back to business as usual.

  Which is precisely what she did. Summer faded into Autumn reds and golds, but the chillier weather did nothing to cool the ardour of Rowena’s many clients. The more they had of her, the more they wanted, so that Ridley’s declaration of undying love was soon forgotten in the sexual tempest that once more raged about the most delectable MILF in Salome’s Garden. High court judges punished her pussy all night long; accountants taxed her to the limit of her sexual prowess; and even army officers put her through physical manouevres that not even the Ministry of Defence could have dreamed up. She was the darling of the rich and sometimes famous, and nothing could dim her continually rising star that shone brightest in this erotic world.

  Autumn rolled almost imperceptibly into winter, and Christmas appeared on the horizon. Rowena worked right up until the big day before taking some well earned time off at Clarissa’s insistence.

  “Forget Salome’s Garden for a few days at least,” she had told Rowena firmly. “That pussy of yours needs some time out, so this Christmas, let it just be your turkey that gets a good stuffing!”

  She spent a girly night out with Clarissa and a couple of the other escorts, got drunk on tequila and woke up remembering nothing about what had happened after they had left the city centre nightclub. The clothes and underwear strewn around the hotel room they had returned to did nothing to help her memory, neither did the naked forms of Clarissa and the other two girls sleeping beside her on the king size bed. She cursed the amnesia, not least when she rolled over onto two massive dildos still sticky with lubricant! Her companions showed no sign of consciousness just yet, and Rowena scrawled a quick note to Clarissa before leaving for home.

  Hoping that the alcohol in her bloodstream had somehow depleted itself enough for her to drive home in a manner that would not arouse police suspicion, Rowena slid into the seat of her cute Boxster. Donning shades to protect her eyes from the stab of bright December sunshine, she gunned the engine, turned on the CD player and bopped all the way back to her Cheshire pad with the help of Lady Gaga.

  It was Christmas morning, the sun was shining, and everything was right with the world. She burst into song with Gaga as she screeched into her driveway, then let out a piercing scream and stood on the brakes to avoid colliding with the rear of the mysterious silver Mercedes occupying her usual parking space.

  “Fucking idiot!” she raged, jumping from her car without even bothering to switch off the engine. She had no idea whose car it was, but she intended to give the unexpected visitor a piece of her fucking mind!

  The Mercedes door opened and a masculine leg appeared. The body to which it belonged emerged as if by increments, and Rowena gasped and froze on the spot when she saw that it was none other than her conniving swine of an ex-!

  “Bobby! What the fuck are you doing here? And just how the hell did you find out where I live?”

  “Now, now, girlfriend,” Bobby tutted, straightening the lapels of his expensive-looking suit. “Can’t we just let bygones be bygones?”

  “Like hell!” spat Rowena, marching right up to him and jabbing a finger hard into his chest. “And let me just say this in words of one syllable so that perhaps your molecule-sized brain can finally grasp it: I am not your girlfriend!”

  Bobby scratched his chin. “Is girlfriend really just one syllable?” he frowned.

  “Oh, just piss off, you prick!”

  She marched towards her front door, but Bobby followed her at a leisurely pace and hung back a little as Rowena fumbled for her housekeys.

  “Clarissa gave me the address,” he called after her, and she almost choked, her keys forgotten. “At least, that’s what I think her name was. I managed to convince her that I was your closest friend and confidant and that I wanted to surprise you for the holidays. She seemed to think my arrival would do you the power of good.”

  “Now I know you’re lying,” Rowena said desperately. “Clarissa would never just give out that information.”

  Bobby sneered. “Well, it’s surprising what some people are prepared to divulge under the influence of a few cocktails.”

  Bloody hell! Clarissa? If Bobby had gleaned the information about her whereabouts from Clarissa, then it followed that he was also fully aware of her new chosen career path.

  She turned, pale at the revelation. She wanted answers but the words with which to formulate the correct questions eluded her. It was as though the world she had built for herself was teetering on the edge of collapse, and she could do nothing to prevent it.

  “Seems like we’ve both changed since you insisted we go our separate ways,” Bobby said at length. “And though you’re far removed from the Rowena I used to know, please allow me to congratulate you on the metamorphosis. It suits you.”

  Bastard! Rowena thought, but still she could say nothing. Okay, time to get a grip, she told herself. She took a deep breath and swallowed before managing at last to find her voice.

  “Okay, what do you want, Bobby,” she croaked.
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  Bobby’s eyes widened in mock surprise. He held held out his hands towards her in a flourish. “Why, you of course, Rowena. What else?”

  Anger rose in Rowena’s chest. How many times would she have to tell this idiot before he finally got the message.

  “Are you deaf or just plain stupid?” she hissed. “I’m sick and tired of telling you that we are finished!”

  She yelled the last word so loudly that it must have been heard in the next county. But Bobby never even blinked as she continued.

  “So under no terms whatsoever would I ever dream of getting back with you!”

  “Oh, interesting that you should use that word,” Bobby said after her rant had ceased and she stood breathing hard. “Because according to the terms as I understand them, you can be mine for at least one night.”

  “Now what the fuck are you talking about?” snorted Rowena.

  Bobby smiled slyly. “I’m talking about the grand and a half I’m willing to pay for your services of course.”

  Rowena’s stomach did a somersault as Bobby’s words sank in and the realisation dawned. Her heart began racing fit to burst, but then she quickly told herself that it was all just some bad joke on Bobby’s part, aimed simply at winding her up. For a start, where would layabout Bobby ever get more than a thousand pounds from? She was about to open her mouth to challenge him on this, when she noted the Mercedes and the flash Italian suit. God, it couldn’t be true, could it?

  “The lottery,” he explained in answer to her silent query. “Triple rollover. Don’t you even have time to watch the news?” He shrugged. “Guess not, the amount of time you must spend on your back. I gather you’re quite popular.”

  Rowena pointed a trembling finger at Bobby. “No way,” she insisted. “Absolutely no fucking way! Not even for a million.”

  Bobby smiled again. Jesus, thought Rowena, With that greasy new style, he looked like the devil himself!

  “You sure about that?” he asked. “Because I’m pretty sure the newspapers would be falling over themselves for the chance of printing such a sensational headline.”

  “What headline?” Rowena croaked.

  “Oh, I’m sure they’d dream up something sufficiently lurid,” Bobby said dismissively, with a wave of his hand. “But what’s important is that your little secret wouldn’t be a secret for very long now, would it, Rowena?”

  Rowena thought she might faint, her head was spinning so fast. She was trapped, she knew that. What choice did she have? She was paid to have sex, that was how this game worked, no matter how repulsive her clients may be. But by God, for some reason the thought of sleeping with Bobby repulsed her more than anything. She would rather give a blow job to Jabba the Hutt than let that swine anywhere near her own plot of Salome’s Garden!

  “I do believe,” Bobby said, interpreting her silence as concession and sidling towards her, “that this is what they mean by the word checkmate. And let’s face it, mating is something you’re pretty familiar with. So, let’s get down to you providing me with value for money shall we?”

  If Rowena had been undecided about what to do, then Bobby had just helped her make up her mind. His cocky swagger and full-of-it attitude turned her stomach. How dare he threaten her like this, and presume such power over her own body? This was truly the same old Bobby dressed in new clothes that he thought made him ‘the man.’ But she had news for him. He was a nothing, a nobody. And he could rot in hell as far as she cared, him and his fifteen hundred!

  With a derisive laugh, Rowena strode back to her car. “In your dreams, you fucking wanker,” she spat as she began climbing into the driving seat.

  Bobby’s face darkened. “Hey!” he called, hurrying after her. “Get back here, bitch! You owe me!”

  “I owe you nothing,” said Rowena, slipping on her shades and turning on the ignition. She raised her voice over the sound of the engine. “So if you’re desperate, may I suggest an inflatable fuck doll? I believe you have a similar IQ in common as well.”

  “You’re done for, Rowena Swift!” Bobby raged as she pressed the petal to the metal and screeched out of the driveway in a shower of loose gravel. “Soon everyone will know your little secret! Everyone!”

  Coming In From The Cold

  The steamy atmosphere of the bedroom was completely at odds with the blizzard outside that had raged for three days now. Rowena had never seen weather like it, not even during the worst winter she could recall. Back home, it was deemed cold when the thermometer bottomed out at minus six or so, but here it plummeted a full forty degrees lower than this and promised to freeze your bollocks off.

  But right now, at this moment, the wood burning stove in one corner ensured she was as warm as toast despite having been relieved of her clothes some minutes before! Sprawled naked on the large fur rug, she reached out to her equally naked new lover. The muscles of his arms rippled under her touch, and he pressed his body to hers as their lips met in a deep and lingering kiss.

  “I love you,” he whispered as he pulled out of the caress. He searched her eyes for some reaction, but she just smiled and draped her arms around his neck, opening her legs a little wider in readiness to accept the familiar erection pressing hot against her thigh.

  “Fuck me,” she breathed.

  He smiled too, the heat of the stove nothing beside the fire of Ridley’s lust as he very slowly pushed his cock inside her. Rowena bit hard on her bottom lip at the beautiful sensation of him filling every inch of her celebrated pussy, and she nodded encouragingly as he started to grind his hips slowly against hers.

  Salome’s Garden, Bobby…all seemed a distant dream. What the future held, and whether she would ever be able to walk the street again without scrutiny, Rowena did not know. But for now, nothing mattered except the moment. For now she was safe from prying eyes and paparazzi. Not even the most hardened hack would be prepared to chase her to this inhospitable place for the sake of simple sensationalist journalism. It wasn’t like she was Osama bin Laden or something after all!

  “Thank you,” she said softly, her lips next to Ridley’s ear. “You saved my life.”

  “My pleasure,” he grinned. “Literally! Just be thankful I hadn’t left already or else you’d never have reached me on that old mobile number.”

  Rowena giggled now. “And to think I thought you’d left because of my rebuffing you! You really know how to deflate a gal’s ego!”

  “Yes, that was a hard thing to take,” admitted Ridley. “But this opportunity at the polar base had already presented itself. Salome’s Garden was never meant to be my permanent career choice.”

  “Dark horse,” she said, nuzzling his ear and sighing as he moved luxuriously within her. “You kept that PhD quiet!”

  Ridley raised his head and shrugged. “Well there’s not much demand for a qualification in Climate Science at Salome’s Garden. So there was never a need to tell anyone.”

  Rowena recalled the copy of New Scientist that she had seen Ridley reading that night he had driven her to her first job. Even then she had wondered at how out of place it seemed.

  “I’m glad you can finally put it to good use here then, Professor!” she said, suddenly clamping her knees around his waist. “And that you could find it in your heart to bring me along for the ride.”

  “No problem,” he replied, holding her gaze for a long moment. “Besides, I need someone to keep me warm and stop me from going stir crazy. The next flight out of Antarctica isn’t due for another six months.”

  Rowena rubbed her nose against his. “Sounds absolutely perfect,” she purred. “I just hope we don’t end up melting even more of the ice cap with our extra-curricular activities!”

  “That’s possible,” Ridley laughed, before thrusting deep into Rowena and making her groan with pleasure. “But if the Yanks don’t give a fuck about Kyoto, then I don’t see why we should worry!”

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  nbsp; Ivan Latham, Salome's Garden