laughed. ‘Merely a term of endearment,’ he said, taking a long sip of pink Moët.
‘Let me guess,’ said Serena, allowing a passing waiter to half-fill her flute, ‘friend of the groom?’
‘Ouch!’ winced David. ‘Below the belt, Miss Balcon. I am not, you should know, a traditional member of the financial community.’
Taking a moment to look him up and down, Serena had to agree with him. His midnight-blue suit was sharp and tailored, the brightness of his white shirt set off his golden tan, his jet-black hair was fashionably tousled, and his eyes – she noticed for the first time – were a rather startling steel grey, like a stormy night sky. In fact David Goldman had enough glamour to belong to the bride’s side of the room. Not that she was going to tell him that.
‘So where’s Cate?
Cate and David must have been together almost four months now, thought Serena, ever since the night of the Sand launch party. While she had only met David once or twice over the whole summer, she knew the couple didn’t see much of each other. Cate seemed to be constantly working, David doing whatever he did in the City. Still, she was rather surprised not to see her sister with her new boyfriend at this wedding.
‘Ah, you know what she’s like,’ sighed David, ‘always doing something or other with that bloody magazine. This weekend she’s in LA doing a cover shoot. Anyway,’ he smiled slowly, ‘as I’m dateless this evening, I would be delighted to spend it with another beautiful Balcon sister.’ He gave a mock bow.
She smiled, admiring his chutzpah. Serena often found that men were intimidated by women like her.
‘I hope you’re not implying that I’m second best? I never play second fiddle.’ Serena was conscious that her voice had a hint of flirtation in it.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ replied David with a smirk. ‘Now, can I tempt you with a dance?’
Despite herself, Serena was enjoying herself. Elmore had abandoned her, having disappeared to do a set on the piano, his gift to the happy couple. Thrown into the company of David Goldman, she found she rather liked his style. He was happy to gossip about misguided wedding outfits and to deflect the attentions of drunken investment bankers keen to talk to Serena; he also laughed in all the right places when she spoke, and swirled her around the dance floor making her feel as light as a fairy instead of six months pregnant. He wasn’t her type, of course. David Goldman wasn’t a star like Tom Archer or a billionaire businessman like Michael Sarkis, but she was beginning to see what Cate saw in him. David had eyes that looked as if they were constantly thinking up mischief, and a charm that made flirting seem like an art form. She began to wonder what David Goldman saw in her sister. So Cate was sweet, clever and pretty in her own way, but Serena knew David’s type: men that were turned on by beauty, glamour and women with a profile they could parade like a trophy. Men like that just weren’t turned on by women like Cate.
The party was winding down. A handful of guests were now flailing around on the dance floor to cheesy seventies disco music, while across the room, empty wine glasses stood in herds on claret-stained linen. The bride, minus her headband and shoes, and groom, minus his jacket and tie, left waving and giggling for the Honeymoon Suite on the first floor of the chateau. Elmore had last been seen disappearing with the DJ’s assistant, a young, swarthy man with a bottom as firm as an iceberg lettuce. In one corner, Melissa’s bridesmaid, a singer in a fading girl band, was passionately snogging an accountant in a grey suit. Looking around, David picked up a bottle of Moët and, disappointed to find that it was empty, declared that the party was over.
‘Had too much to drink anyway,’ he said, rubbing his temples. ‘So, where are you staying tonight, Miss Balcon? With Elmore? Or can I walk you somewhere?’
‘I believe I’m in somewhere called the Dovecote,’ said Serena. ‘I’m not entirely sure where it is.’
‘At the bottom of the herb garden, if I remember rightly. I’m not far from there,’ said David, standing to pull Serena’s chair back for her.
‘Just as well,’ replied Serena, ‘I may need an arm to steady me. I haven’t had a drink in ages and three glasses of champagne have pushed me right over my limit.’ She felt wobbly in her heels, but when they stepped out into the night, the cold air on her face woke her up with a start. Hurricane lanterns hanging from the trees released a gentle glow like fireflies, so she could just make out the shapes of other couples crossing the lawns on their way back to their suites. Her heels were sinking into the grass. She bent down to unlace her sandals, hanging onto David’s arm for support until she was barefoot on the wet lawn, which was strewn with autumn leaves and confetti. She didn’t let go of him as they walked to the Dovecote and, when they arrived at the door, David didn’t need to ask to come up to her suite. A duplex building, like a giant wooden beehive, they ascended a stone flight of steps to the first floor. A bluey-silver moonlight flooded through the windows, so that the enormous four-poster bed seemed lit up by a spotlight.
‘It’s such a beautiful room, isn’t it?’ she said, her voice soft and nervous.
‘Yes, beautiful,’ said David, unable to tear his gaze away from her. Her dress had gone almost totally sheer in the strange lunar light, giving her an unearthly shimmering glow.
Only feet from her, David reached his hand out to touch her fingertips. ‘What would you do now if I tried to kiss you?’
She paused for several seconds until David took a step closer towards her, touching her cheek with his fingers.
‘I’d let you,’ she faltered, drawing his head closer until she could feel his warm breath on her neck. As his soft lips touched her skin, she felt a fire of longing. It was too long since she had felt someone’s touch.
His fingers expertly moved up to the scoop of her neckline and began slowly, deliberately undoing the tiny pearl buttons one by one, until the fine fabric just slipped off her shoulders and onto the floor like a feather. He unclipped her coffee-coloured lace bra, his head swooping down to take a hard, brown nipple between his lips. Unable to stop herself, her fingers played with the buckle of his belt, uncoiling it from the loops of his trousers like a snake springing into action. A fleeting picture of Cate flashed before her eyes, but she squeezed them shut. Cate wasn’t serious about David, she thought, they hardly saw each other, pushing the image of her sister back like a genie into its bottle.
David pulled Serena’s tiny thong down over her thighs and she pushed him backwards. Not wanting him on top of her with her protruding bump, they fell back into the goose-down folds of the duvet.
‘Like this,’ she whispered.
Totally naked, except for a condom straining over his massive erection, Goldman lay back and Serena straddled him, her firm thighs pressing against his submissive body. She took his cock and tipped the end into her wetness, stroking her clitoris, then sliding him in so slowly that he groaned out, his hands reaching up greedily to play with her breasts. Rocking, then grinding her hips into him, her pelvic muscles squeezing his shaft tightly inside her, she watched his face crease with pleasure, his eyes closed, an ecstatic moan escaping from his lips. Completely in control now, and enjoying the sense of power, she lifted her body upwards so she almost slipped off him before thrusting back down on him again, her free hand cupping his balls.
‘Fuck, fuck, incredible,’ he moaned. His body arched towards her before caving back on the mattress while Serena felt her own intense orgasm. Looking down to see his exhausted, handsome face, his lips tilted upwards, she felt another wave of pleasure rush through her. She smiled, satisfied and reassured. Serena Balcon had
