was hard to concentrate. And he hated to disappoint her.
Taking her face in his hands, he stopped her. She looked up, surprised.
Hughie stood up. ‘If you’ve forgotten to type those letters, you’re in real trouble, Miss … Miss …’
She blinked at him. ‘Miss Love to Suck Your Cock?’
‘Well, be that as it may, I’m afraid this is a very serious matter.’ He shoved a pile of sketchbooks off the large mahogany table and they scattered across the room. ‘Pull down your knickers, Miss Love to Suck Your Cock. I’m going to have to spank you.’
‘I’m not wearing any knickers, sir,’ she giggled.
‘How convenient.’
He forced her over the round table and pushed what remained of the dress to one side. Her buttocks were round and white. As he lifted his hand, he caught sight of her face in the floor-to-ceiling mirror opposite. Hair tousled, lips parted in anticipation – he knew he was on to something. ‘I’m warning you, Miss Love to Suck Your Cock, if your bottom becomes too red, I may be forced to take you from behind.’
She squealed.
‘Or some other ghastliness,’ he added.
‘Oh yes, more ghastliness!’
His hand landed roughly on her cool cheeks.
‘Oh, sir!’
‘Be quiet, Miss Love to Suck Your Cock!’
‘But, sir!’
He spanked her again. A red welt formed.
‘Oh, sir! I’ve also broken the typewriter, sir! And killed all the office plants!’
‘You’re a dreadful secretary!’
He spanked her again.
‘Yes, yes! I’m just awful!’
Hughie turned her over roughly and pinned her to the table. ‘What is it you want, Miss Love to Suck Your Cock?’
‘I want to be used!’ She arched her back, pressing herself against him. ‘I want to be used and taken and satisfied and then used again!’
‘By whom?’ Hughie persisted.
Her eyes widened. She’d never imagined he could be so forceful.
She liked it.
‘By you! Only by you!’
And so, Hughie watched himself in the mirror as he performed an act of utter ghastliness upon the enraptured Leticia. As her body shuddered beneath his, he gently pushed a strand of hair back from her cheek.
Perhaps they might wander down to that tiny restaurant in Pimlico and have Chinese food afterwards.
And maybe, he thought, just maybe, she’d let him hold her hand as they walked home.
It wasn’t until later, when they were feasting on duck pancakes and jasmine tea, that the text came through.
The job is yours. Welcome to the firm.
Hughie walked Leticia home in glowing twilight. He wanted to be close to her. But each time he reached out to take her hand she deftly moved it away, swinging her handbag coyly. Finally, they stopped in front of the tall, terraced house where she owned a flat on the second floor, overlooking a leafy garden square.
‘So,’ he said.
‘So,’ she smiled up at him, tracing her fingers lightly along the lapel of Malcolm’s suit.
‘This is where we say goodnight. Unless, of course, you change your mind and invite me up,’ he grinned hopefully.
‘You know the Rules, Hughie.’
‘Ah, yes. The Rules.’
‘No point being sarcastic; they’re there for a reason.’
His hand travelled into the small of her back, pressed her close. ‘No emotional attachments, no gifts, no staying over, no sweet sentiments …’
‘And no nasty surprises!’ she concluded. ‘The Rules keep us safe, Hughie. You don’t think for one moment we’d be having this much fun if we were a couple, do you?’
‘Hummm,’ he buried his face into the curve of her long neck. ‘I wonder …’
She pushed him away. ‘You’re not in danger, are you?’ She looked at him hard. ‘Remember, if you’re falling in love …’
‘Only I’m not!’
‘Swear?’
He went down on one knee. ‘I prostrate myself before you in indifference!’ Then, while he was down there, he tucked his head under her skirt. ‘Ahh! Here’s a bit I missed!’ His lips moved up her inner thigh.
‘Hughie! We’re in the middle of the street! Oh!’ she swooned, gripping the iron railings. ‘Oh, yes!’
He poked his head out. ‘Of course, we could go upstairs …’
‘That would be against the Rules!’
‘Yes! But it would feel so wrong, wouldn’t it?’ Standing, he pulled her close. ‘It would be so incredibly … bad!’
She couldn’t resist. He really was a terrific playmate. ‘Oh, here!’ Giggling, she dragged him across the street, into the garden square, behind a hedge. ‘Only I’m warning you …’
He kissed her hard.
They tumbled onto the sweet-smelling grass. He looked into her beautiful dark eyes, hair tousled, lips parted.
‘I don’t love you,’ he whispered.
Her arms wrapped round his neck. ‘You say the sweetest things!’
Professional Massagers of the Female Ego
Two days later, Hughie found himself sitting on the same bench in Green Park, waiting for the man called Valentine. It was no name for a guy, that was for sure. He was wearing the same borrowed suit. (Already Malcolm was demanding that he have it professionally dry-cleaned.) The sunny day was almost identical to the one earlier on in the week and the whole experience was coloured by a strong sense of déjà vu. Hughie found himself scanning the figures in the distance; not searching for this unfortunately named man but for his red-headed woman instead. He was strangely disappointed when Valentine finally did appear.
‘You’re Hughie,’ Valentine announced, stopping in front of him and holding out a hand.
‘Yes,’
