“Perhaps,” she agreed, and lifted the glass an inch. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you.” Benedict agreed with emphasis. They sipped the sparkling wine watching each other’s eyes.
here others must wait weeks and months Benedict went in immediately as though it were This right. A smile and a murmured word, and theatre tickets were his or the doors of fashionable restaurants opened magically.
That first night he took her to the National Theatre, then for dinner at Le Coeur de France where a very famous movie actor stopped at their table.
(Hello, Benedict. We are all going on to the yacht later for a hit of a party. join us, won’t you?” And those legendary eyes turned to Ruby. “And bring your beautiful friend with you.” They ate breakfast under the awning on the after-deck of the yacht, eggs and bacon and Veuve Clicquot champagne, and watched the hubbub of dawn traffic on the wondrously smelly old Thames. Ruby was the only girl in the party without a fur to cheat the chill of the river dawn.
Benedict made a mental note of the fact.
On the way home she sat with those long legs curled under her in the seat of the Bentley, still sleek and golden despite the night’s exertions, but with the lightest touch of blue beneath her eyes.
“I can’t remember having enjoyed an evening so much, Benedict.”
She patted a tiny pink-lipped yawn. “You’re a wonderful companion.”
“Tonight again?“he asked.
“Yes, please,“she murmured.
he sensed an urgency in him, when she came down into the lobby of the Lancaster that evening. He came quickly to meet her as she stepped out of the lift, and the quiet assurance with which he kissed her cheek and took her arm surprised her.
They were silent as he snaked the Bentley through the evening traffic. Ruby realized that at the tips of her long tapered fingers, within touching distance, was a fortune such as she had never before allowed herself to dream about.
She was deadly afraid. A wrong move, even a wrong word might drive that fortune beyond her grasp for ever. She would never have a chance like this again, and she was afraid to move, almost paralysed with fear. The decision she knew she would have to make very soon would be fateful.
Must she encounter his advance with withdrawal, or must she meet it as frankly as it was inside.
She was so deeply involved with her thoughts that when the Bentley came to a standstill she looked up with surprise.
They were parked in a mews outside an expensive-looking flat.
Benedict came round and opened her door, and led her without protest into the flat.
She looked about her curiously, recognizing some of the art works on display in the entrance hall. Benedict took her through into the long lounge and settled her solicitously into the tapestry-covered chair which dominated the room like a throne, and suddenly her fear was gone. She felt queenlike in her control. She knew with certainty that this would all be hers.
Benedict stood in the centre of the room, almost a petitioner in his attitude, and he began to speak. She listened quietly, her expression showing no hint of the triumphant surge of her spirits, and when he stopped to wait for her reply she did not hesitate.
“Yes,” she said.
“I will be with you when you tell him,” Benedict promised.
“It won’t be necessary,” Ruby assured him. “I can handle Johnny
Lance.”
“No.” Swiftly Benedict crossed to her chair and took her hands, drawing her to her feet. “I must be there with you.
Promise me that.” Then it became suddenly evident to Ruby that the strength of her position was unassailable. Benedict needed her not for any physical reasons - but merely because she belonged to Johnny Lance.
Looking steadily into Benedict’s eyes she determined to test her intuition.
“He does not have to know about you,” she said. “I could arrange a divorce with him.”
“He must know about me. That’s what I want, don’t you see?”
“Yes, I see.” She was secure.
“It is agreed?” He could barely conceal his anxiety.
“Yes,” she nodded. “It’s agreed.” And they smiled at each other -
each completely satisfied.
“Come.” He led her almost reverently into his bedroom, and Ruby stopped in the doorway with a little cry of delight.
The double bed was a mountain of glowing fur in a score of shades ranging from soft pinkish cream, through beige and oyster, pale smoky blue to midnight and jet glossy black.
“Choose one!” he ordered her. “To seal our bargain.” She moved like a sleepwalker towards the bed, but as she reached the centre of the Khedive carpet Benedict called out softly.
“Wait.” She stopped obediently and he came up behind her. She felt his hands on the back of her neck, and she lowered her chin, shaking her hair forward so that he could unhook the clasp and draw down the fastening of her dress.
She stepped out of the dress as it dropped around her ankles, then waited passively as he carefully removed her brassiere.
“Now,” he said. “Try them on.” In her stockings and high-heeled shoes she went to the bed, subtly emphasizing the lilt of her movements, and took up the first fur.
Benedict was sprawled in the wing-back chair across the room as she glanced back at him. His face was gloating and flushed, so that his features seemed swollen and coarsened as he stared at her. She understood now that this was a form of ritual in which they were engaged. Like a victorious Roman general, Benedict was conducting his own personal triumph, reviewing the spoils and the plunder. It had no basis in sexual or physical desire, but was rather a service of worship to Benedict himself. She was the priestess of this rite.
Yet, knowing this, Ruby felt no resentment. Rather, she found herself excited by the cold perversity of the pageant.
As she paraded and postured, turned and swirled and flared the skirts of a wild mink, she was very conscious of his eyes upon her body. She knew it was perfect, and his scrutiny stirred her physically for the first time in her life. She felt her blood quicken and pound, felt her heart flutter within its cage of ribs like a captive bird, and her loins tighten like a clenching first. For her also the ritual was narcissistic satisfying her own deep emotional need.
As she discarded each of the coats she dropped it in the centre of the floor, until there was a knee-high pile of precious fur.
At last she faced him, hugging the soft creamy cloud tightly about her body. Then she opened her arms, and the coat also, standing on tip-toe to tighten and highlight the hard muscle in her legs and flanks.
This one,” she whispered, and he came out of the chair, picked her up in his arms and laid her, still wrapped in mink, on the great pile of furs.
Ruby woke in the double bed to a feeling of excitement and enormous well-being such as she had not experienced since she was a schoolgirl on the first morning of a holiday.
The morning was far advanced, pale sunshine in a square shaft poured through the open window like a stage effect.
Benedict in a yellow silk dressing-gown stood beside the bed watching her with an unfathomable expression which changed immediately he realized that she was awake.
“My man has collected your luggage from the Lancaster.
Your toilet things are in the bathroom, your clothing in the dressing-room.” He sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, and leaned forward to kiss her forehead and then each cheek.
“We will breakfast when you are ready.” He sat back and watched her eyes; clearly he was waiting for her to say something important.
Immediately she was on guard, wary of making a mistake, seeking a clue in his expression.
“Last night,” he asked. “Was it as good for you, as it was for me?” Understanding washed over her in a warm
