Lauren broke our kiss, her hands on my upper arms and gently pushed me away. Her eyes wandered over me. ‘Perfect. I love the blouse – just right. Well done.’ She pulled me back for a deeper, hungrier kiss and once again her hands roamed over my arse but not once did she seem to want to check the jewel was in place as she had instructed. ‘Now you must come to our table. We have two friends joining us. You will recognise th...

Sunday Morning It was almost 2.30 in the morning when Lauren told me a cab would be waiting outside the Grant to take me home. How did she know? I hadn’t heard her make a call. I dressed, putting my skirt and blouse on over my stockings and collecting my coat. As I was about to leave she called me back into the bedroom of her suite and I found her standing. She took me in her arms and held me tightly to her and kissed the...

Although there was no sign outside to advertise it, the place was called 'Intime.' It was tucked away in a quiet street. The street was tree lined with Georgian style lamposts which cast a yellow light on the damp pavement. There was no traffic and few footfalls. My taxi stopped outside. I paid the cabby and stepped out into the cool evening air and hesitated momentarily. I looked at the glossy black front door with the l...

“Pleasure before pain.” That was what Alexandra had said as she slowly removed her dress. There was a knock on the door and the club’s owner, Maxine de Vraie entered to Alexandra’s command. Maxine, whom I knew although we did not acknowledge the fact, was accompanied by two naked women, both tall, and slender, one blonde, the other brunette. “Balkans,” said Alexandra with a sneer. The Russians hate all the former satellit...

The Present Day Mira Destovsky and Ivanova were dead and gone. Mira’s younger sister, Alexandra, had assumed command of Mira’s business empire. My name is Jelena Miskoba. I was trained by the former KGB as an assassin. I only graduated when the Soviet Union was in total disarray after its collapse. I had learned the arts of cold-blooded murder and excelled in them. I was not like some of my peers who orgasmed when they ki...

Ivanova’s eyes lit up when the door to her apartment opened. It was 11pm. She knew that only Mira Destovsky had a key and she hoped this meant that she was about to feel the kiss of the whip or the cane that hung on a hook behind her bedroom door. Mira came into the large, sparsely furnished lounge and shrugged off her long, black leather coat. Beneath it she wore tight, also black leather trousers and a black silk shirt....

There were five students in the room, one teacher and a model who sat smoking, despite all regulations and sitting on the posing chaise as our teacher, Isobel, talked."Ignore Teri – she is a rebel." Isobel smiled at us. "Rebels make good models – they have character. Now, you," she pointed at Martha, the oldest in the room. "Martha, what is the difference between painting and photography?""A painter should try not merely...

It was 3 weeks later that Tippi called. ‘Hi, it’s me, Tippi.’ I had not been expecting her to call. I’ve so often spoken words and then, as they left my mouth, wished I could have swallowed them back. I’d assume that was what she had done. Maybe she was ‘phoning to apologise. ‘Look, Tippi, I was being really stupid that night. Could we just forget it?’ ‘We can forget some of it, sure. I wondered if you’d come to a party a...

I do not know what time it was that Irina brought us tea and coffee. I only know that within a few moments of her doing so, Ivanova arrived with Mira’s phone.'There is a call for you. It is, apparently, urgent.’ Sitting up and still in that beautiful nightgown, Mira took the phone from Ivanova and spoke. Her breasts were not concealed by the gown, they showed, white against the black and her dark nipples showed brown agai...

‘Take Joanna to my room, Ivanova – I will probably join you later.’ Ivanova stood and offered me her hand. I took it and stood and followed her as she led the way through a large pair of oak doors to a subtly lit corridor. The carpet was thick and I followed Ivanova’s delicious body, her hips swaying beneath the red silk. About half way along the corridor she opened a black, leather covered door and led me into a large ro...

It's often the silence that says more than anything. Sandra Rollason was the mistress of the unspoken, tall, elegant and extremely wealthy. She had invited me to an interview. I am a journalist and I had been commissioned to do a series of interviews of wealthy businesswomen for her magazine. I’d suggested that she might herself be a subject and, to my surprise she'd agreed when her editor had mooted the idea. Her office...

Irina selected clothes for me, presumably to Mira’s instructions. She rolled nearly black stockings up my legs and clipped them to a suspender belt of black silk. She held a long, crimson silk evening dress for me – I had never seen it before. It had a slit up the side that revealed my stocking tops and the bodice was almost transparent so that my nipples showed through the fabric barely but noticeably. The straps of the...

I woke up alone. I think it had been the clattering of a helicopter that had disturbed me. The sun was filtering through the drawn curtains of my suite and I lay between silk sheets and remembered the previous evening. My hand moved without my consciously directing it to my pussy where, as my legs spread, I stroked myself languidly. Mira’s smell was all around me and there were still damp patches on the sheets as evidence...

Mira Destovsky was sitting at her desk when I entered the office, ushered in by her tall, svelte, Russian secretary, Ivanova. She was all business, looking at her watch to confirm I was on time. I could only see her top half and she looked as gorgeous as I remembered her although her hair was drawn severely back. Her pale blue silk blouse was buttoned to the neck and she wore a man’s tie, loosely knotted and dark blue. He...

‘Is that your natural hair colour?’ The launch of the super yacht ‘Mira’ was a major event. I was there because I do the interior design section of my regional newspaper and my colleague, Luke, was there because he covers local industry. The yacht had been built in a local yard and the gala press day was designed to show it off. We’d been invited aboard for a sumptuous champagne lunch, followed by a short cruise with a di...