and perfect your skills.”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“What do you mean?”
Anthony stopped walking, his back to Peter, and closed his eyes. “I’ve never bedded a woman.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Anthony swung around to glare at Peter. “I’ve never had sex with a woman. How the hell am I supposed to make sure she enjoys it, when I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing?”
Peter’s stunned expression made Anthony want to run and hide.
“But you’re twenty-five.”
“And I was raped by a man when I was barely twenty.”
“God, Anthony…”
He tried to smile, to laugh it off. “I’ve fucked a lot of men though, or should I say, they’ve fucked me, so I do have some experience.”
“Excuse me for asking this, but is there a particular reason for your sudden desire for a woman?”
Anthony scowled. “My reasons are my own, but why shouldn’t I have sex with anyone I want to?”
Peter hesitated, his calm gaze on Anthony’s. “You know there is no shame in admitting you prefer men. You don’t have to bed a woman to prove something to Val, your family or, most important, to yourself.”
“Why does everyone assume I prefer men? When have I ever expressed a preference?”
Peter examined his fingernails. “People assume things, and the fact that you’ve never been seen with a woman perhaps explains it.” He looked up. “And the fact that you’re twenty-five and have only fucked men.”
Anthony stared helplessly at Peter, his hands fisted at his sides, his heart racing along with his thoughts. How much could he reveal about the change in his feelings, about his doubts about everything he’d once believed true about himself?
“Recently I realized that I no longer enjoyed being sexually humiliated.”
“By Minshom?”
“By anyone. I realized that I wanted to try to find out what I want, not what I am told I should like or forced to participate in.”
“There’s nothing wrong in that.”
“Thank you. It’s taken me long enough to work that out. But I have now, and I intend to try to find out for myself.”
“You do know you might not like what you discover?”
Anthony looked up, saw the understanding on Peter’s face and shrugged. “You mean I might realize that I do need pain to enjoy sex and really prefer men?”
“That is a distinct possibility. Some might say that your choices so far have actually been the right ones and that you are simply fighting your true nature.”
“Would you say that?”
“No, I’d tell you to go out and experiment, to find out what you truly desire and embrace it, whatever it may be.”
Anthony swallowed hard. “Thank you, Peter.”
Peter nodded slowly, his face once more calm and thoughtful. “Then we need to find you an experienced and discreet woman.”
“Yes, that would be helpful.”
Peter got up. “Will you stay here while I go and inquire if the lady I’m thinking about is available this evening?”
“Of course.”
After Peter left, Anthony sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. That had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. He hadn’t told Peter that he tended to avoid women, afraid that they’d laugh at his inexperience or, worse, that he’d somehow hurt them with his perverted lusts. Marguerite was different somehow. Her gentleness combined with her acerbic French pragmatism intrigued him.
He wanted to touch her intimately, to see her body convulse in the throes of passion, to strip away the artifice and understand what made a woman’s love different from a man’s. His cock stirred at the thought, and he glanced at the door, wondering whether Peter would actually come back after all or just leave him to stew.
The door opened and he shot to his feet, smoothed back his disordered hair. Peter was smiling.
“I’ve found the perfect woman. She’ll make you wear some kind of leather mask to conceal your identity.” He shrugged. “She doesn’t like to know whom she’s fucking, and she loves to play the dominant role. I didn’t think that would bother you at all.”
Peter’s matter-of-fact explanation made Anthony want to groan. Apparently his sexual tastes were known to more people than he realized.
“That sounds perfectly acceptable, Peter. Thanks for your help.” He swallowed hard. “Shall we go?”
“Stop crowding me!”
“I’m not.”
Marguerite glared at Lisette, who walked ahead of her in the narrow viewing passageway between the rooms on the second floor.
“Why couldn’t we just go into one of the public rooms off the main salon and sit down? Why does it have to be here?”
Lisette turned to face Marguerite. “Because what you need to see is far more intimate than that, and there is a woman on this floor who specializes in training men to perform at their sexual peak.”
Marguerite sighed and followed her sister to the next viewing station. She had to assume Lisette knew what she was doing, but she still felt apprehensive.
“Of course,” Lisette whispered, “if you want to try it for yourself, I’m sure I could persuade David to lie down and let you crawl all over him. It might be fun.”
“No, this is fine, thank you.”
Lisette nudged her. “Coward.”
Of course she was a coward; who could doubt it?
Marguerite leaned against the wall and peered through the small mirror right into the room. A woman dressed in a black lace corset, stockings and high polished riding boots paced the room. She carried a thin whip that she constantly slapped against her thigh. Although not in her first bloom of youth, she was a magnificent creature. Auburn hair piled high on her head, milk-white skin and a lush bosom to drive men wild.
Marguerite looked down at her own average breasts. Not only was the woman beautiful, but she radiated confidence, something Marguerite had lost and desperately needed to rediscover if she wanted to get anywhere with Anthony. And she did want Anthony—his lack of aggression and innate honesty appealed to her. He offered her a chance to make up for the mistakes of the past, to rediscover the sexual being she was meant to be after the distortion of her marriage.
“Look,” Lisette whispered. “Here he
