From her fourth floor office, Miranda watched the street below. Hard sunlight created deep shadows and a breeze half-heartedly stirred leaves on the trees.

A black London cab stopped at the opposite kerb. The lone passenger was a tall blonde in a summer dress. Her arms and shoulders were bare and tanned, her legs toned and shapely. Miranda saw the jut of high breasts and the breeze whipped her dress up around her thighs.

She tilted her head into the breeze, her blonde hair fluttering from her face like a golden flame. She had to be one of the lovelies from Caversham Harte EC, based in the square. The initials stood for Events Coordinators. Their consultants were always attractive and mostly female.

Miranda's phone hummed and, without looking, she knew it was Robert.

“You're blessed with perfect timing,” she said.

 Of course,” he replied. His voice was a dark brown velvet. Miranda liked that. “And don't forget my lethal backhand and my impeccably good taste,” he added.

Miranda sighed theatrically, “I do so like modesty in a man.” 

He ignored the remark. “If you have nothing better to do, pack a weekend bag and be outside your flat at ten sharp on Saturday morning.”

“And what might this bag contain?” Miranda asked.

“Overnight stuff, little black dress and trimmings, for dinner. Tennis kit, all white . Wear smart casual to travel; jeans would be good.”

“How can I resist?” Miranda said, finding it difficult to avoid sarcasm.

Robert Clayton was one of those men effortlessly good at everything. He exuded success, charm and entitlement as if it was as natural as breathing. Miranda was intrigued by his direct almost abrupt manner. He had lots to say yet he never used a sentence when a phrase would do.

They had dated four times since the Ritz dinner party. Since then, they duelled leisurely like two fencers. They enjoyed the match and waiting for a weakness. Miranda guessed this weekend would be no different.

Saturday morning was fine and clear. Robert was punctual and high spirited. They reached the motorway before he told her the programme.

“Watching tennis, playing tennis, good food, fresh air, back tomorrow,” he said.

Calthorpe Tennis Club was for the smart and rich. Robert was a long-time member. The courts were clay, laid out behind the club building and overlooked by tiered terraces.

They sat on the highest terrace and ordered alcohol-free Mojitos. Below them sat twenty or more beautiful bohos, as Robert called them.

He beckoned her closer. “Big match in five minutes. Mixed singles. If she wins, she gets his car. If he wins, he gets her.”

“Tell me more,” said Miranda.

"At a country house party six years ago, a girl called Susannah Pelly had a row with an aristocrat who shall be nameless. To cut a long story short, they agreed to play tennis. If she won, she got his prize racehorse; if he won, he got her for the night. It's known as slave time.”

“Wasn't it a bit one-sided.” Miranda's curiosity was aroused.

“They invented a handicap system. All the games started at forty to love in her favour.”

“Sounds interesting.” 

Robert grinned. “ Gets better. He had one serve, she had two. She could hit into doubles tramlines, he couldn't.”

“Did it work ?” she asked.

“Yeah. Very tight game. She lost. He almost dragged her off by the hair and fucked her brains out.”

“What did she have to say?”

“She loved every minute. Apparently.”

“What if she didn't ?”

“If she'd said 'No' three times like she meant it, all bets were off.”

“And it's lasted for six years?”

“Amongst the sort of people you see down there,” he said.

“Do you... have you done it?”

“Oh yes.” 

Miranda wanted to hear more but there were two figures on court and chatter below. The girl was sultry and dark, more handsome than beautiful. She had impressive legs and heavy breasts that jiggled as she moved. The guy was slim and fair with angelic features that made him look about fifteen.

The game was fast, hard and close. The girl could had have taken it twice but she blew it.

She gave the watchers a rueful smile and a shrug. Then she looked hard at the guy who beat her and nodded, slowly.

“Let's go check in at the hotel,” said Robert. “She'll have him on his knees by nightfall.”

Robert drove in silence and Miranda thought about the girl with great legs and heavy breasts who'd given herself away.

The Cranburgh Arms Hotel was even smarter than the tennis club. Robert was expected. “Two rooms.” He smiled. “With a locked connecting door.” 

Taken aback, Miranda nodded. Then she saw the information board behind the reception desk. It wasn't the details of the seminar it advertised that caught her attention. It was the name Caversham Harte EC, the organisers.

Robert said, “We have a court for three o'clock. Susanna's Rules, loser buys dinner. Okay?”

“Sneaky bastard,” she said.

“It's only money," he said, adding, "Sorry, I've work to do. Reception in two hours. Okay?” Then he was gone.

Miranda had coffee and sandwiches in the lounge which was huge, elegant and Victorian. It smelled of polished, old wood and fresh flowers. She settled in a large club armchair.

By the open french windows, sat a girl and two men. Miranda immediately recognised the taxi blonde. This would be the Caversham Harte team prepping the upcoming seminar. From where she sat, Miranda saw a folder under one of their chairs.

Miranda walked towards the trio. They stared at her. She retrieved the folder and said, “I'd feel an idiot if this isn't yours.”

The blonde flushed. Then she gave a dazzling smile and said, “Thank you so much."

Miranda returned the smile and retreated to her coffee. She paid the two guys little attention as they left the blonde alone. After they'd gone, she realised they could have been twins. The third time Miranda caught the girl's eye, she blushed. Suddenly the weekend became even more interesting.

At five minute to three, Miranda met Robert. By three thirty she had lost the set six games to four. They sat on court seats. “Hope your card's in good shape,” he teased.

Miranda was silent. Then she said, “We've got time for another set. Susannah's Rules. Winner gets a slave. Midnight to dawn.”

Robert stared at her. “Done.” 

His first serve wasn't deep but it kicked up to her backhand. She put the ball hard down the tramlines giving him no chance. Suddenly she knew how to beat him. So she did, six games to three. They sat on the same seats in silence. Then she said, “ Midnight... maybe I'll turn you into a pumpkin.”

“Whatever you say,” said Robert and they walked back into the hotel. Robert said, “I have to finish some stuff. See you in the bar at eight thirty.”

The blonde still sat by the french window. She saw Miranda and looked away. Miranda ordered tea and read a magazine. Twice more she caught the blonde looking at her. The second time she blushed. Miranda finished her tea and went over to the french windows.

The blonde's eyes were blue with a dark ring around the iris. They glittered with an interest that wasn't just about stray folders. Miranda introduced herself. The blonde smiled and stood up. They shook hands. Her name was Catherine and she worked for Caversham Harte EC.

“I know,” said Miranda.

They chatted for a while and Miranda asked about the two guys.

Catherine rolled her eyes. “Nephews of my CEO. Callum and Niall Carson. Twins. Very bright and hard to handle.”

“Lucky you,” said Miranda.

Catherine grunted. Then she said, “You look good in whites. Did you win?”

“I think I did.”

“Against your...” the blonde's voice trailed away.

“My man,” Miranda volunteered.

“You're an item?”

“Depends on what item means.”

“Do you sleep wih him?”

Miranda laughed. “Do you mean sleep or fuck?” She enjoyed saying “fuck” to strangers. Especially this one.

Catherine tried but failed not to look flustered. Then she said, “I mean fuck.”

Miranda shook her head. Catherine's pupils were black and dilated, aroused like a hunting cat after dark.

“Why not?”

Miranda said, “Perhaps I don't want to.”

Catherine tilted her head like a curious schoolgirl.

Miranda continued, “Or perhaps he shouldn't always get what he wants. And he's waiting for me to make it easy for him.”

Catherine's gaze was direct. “I think I'm jealous.” 

“Let me know when you're sure.” Miranda was gently sarcastic.

Catherine didn't hesitate,“ Okay, I'm jealous.” She sounded defiant.

“Of me? ” Miranda murmured. “Or Robert?”

Catherine said nothing, her pupils still black and dilated.

Swiftly Miranda said, “Have dinner with us. My treat.”

“I'm not the third wheel type.”

Yes you are, thought Miranda and signalled a waiter. “The roulette table is open, yes?” she asked. The waiter nodded. “Put this on red for me please.” Miranda dropped a ten pound note on his tray.

“Red you do, black you don't,” Miranda said to Catherine, who laughed and shook her head slowly.

Two minutes later, the waiter reappeared with two ten pound notes. Miranda took one and left the other for the waiter. He grinned his thanks.

Miranda thought about kissing Catherine's mouth and she thought about kissing Robert's. It was exciting to have the option – maybe.

“Eight thirty in the bar. Yes?” said Miranda.

Catherine nodded firmly.

At eight thirty, the restaurant bar was busy. Miranda was in her little black dress, Catherine in a silk top and long skirt. Robert introduced himself. Their table was reserved. The menus arrived and they chattered like old friends. After the second course, the stage became alive with musicians who eased into effortless Bossa Nova.

“If they play 'Girl from Ipanema' I will dance, partner or not,” said Catherine.

“You won't have to,” said Miranda.

 Girl from where?” Robert asked.

Miranda shook her head. “Take no notice; he's harmless.”

Five minutes later, the band glided into 'Girl from Ipanema'. Catherine was on her feet immediately. Miranda followed her onto the packed dance floor.

“Can you be the man and lead?” Catherine asked. Miranda nodded.

Catherine's hair smelled of honey and herbs. Her body was supple, sometimes moulding into Miranda almost accidentally. They were the same height so conversation was easy. Catherine's lips brushed Miranda's ear. “Of Robert,” Catherine said, “not you.”
“You left out a word.”

“I know."

Miranda moved her hand over Catherine's hip. Her thumb tugged at the elastic under the skirt. Catherine's breathing was suddenly loud in Miranda's ear. “I left out jealous,” Catherine said.

Miranda bent forward so her mouth was close enough to whisper. By the end of the dance, Miranda had told her all about Susannah's Rules.

Three empty chairs surrounded their table. Catherine gestured towards the bathroom and Miranda watched her go. A hand written message on the table read, Mr Clayton please ring Mr Maxwell ASAP.

Miranda knew he'd make the call in his room. She looked up as the Carson twins looked down at her.

“May we sit?” 

“Just for a minute?” asked the other.

They didn't wait for an answer. They sat.

“We came to say hello,” said the first.

“And to say thanks for the folder,” said the second.

Miranda had to laugh. They were the perfect double act.

“You have a beautiful body,” said one, smiling shyly.

“Very,” agreed the other. His smile was equally disarming.

“Thank you, you're very sweet,” she said, flustered and wishing she hadn't said sweet. Men hated the word. But they smiled at her, strong white teeth and kissable mouths.

They were identical. Dark Celtic good looks: tousled collar length hair and pale hazel eyes. No more than twenty, they radiated animal intensity. A pair of dangerous unruly Dobermans. Miranda wondered what all women would wonder. And whether Catherine kept them on a leash. Maybe she didn't. That was an interesting thought.

Miranda felt a wickedly familiar tingle. She thought about Cathrines's body boneless against hers.

Together the twins stood, bowed, smiled and left.

Miranda said nothing about them when Catherine returned.

“What are you going to do with him?” she asked simply.

 No who, when or why, Miranda thought. “Nothing. In less than two hours, he's on slave time.”

Catherine's eyeslids drooped. The tip of her tongue showed briefly between her newly-painted lips.

Robert returned, grim faced. “I have to meet a one o'clock flight into London Gatwick Airport. Then spend four hours with a group of excited Russians.”

“You're leaving when?” asked Miranda.

“Now. See you for lunch.”

They watched him go before Miranda paid the bill and they left for Catherine's room. It was the same layout as her own.

“Mainly I like men," Catherine said. "Most of the time.”

“Me too,” said Miranda.

“Maybe we should...” Catherine began, distracted as Miranda reached into her handbag and produced two steel dice.

"Best of three throws. Susannah's Rules. Highest wins five minutes slave time.” 

Cathrine laughed and waggled her head helplessly. “I'll give you five minutes slave time.” She picked up her phone and set the alarm.

Miranda turned off the light. They sat on the edge of the bed. Miranda said, “ I watched you from my office window om Wednesday afternoon.

You got out of a taxi and you let your hair loose in the wind. You let your dress blow up around your thighs.”

“Blue dress and a trolley case,” Catherine whispered.

“Yes, and I dreamed about kissing those thighs. And I dreamed of laying my cheek against your naked breasts.”

Catherine turned her head. “A kiss; just one, on the lips, no more.”

Miranda laid a hand on the blonde's cheek. Very gently she pulled her close. She brushed Catherine's lips with hers, from one corner of her mouth to the other.

“Tell me again,” Catherine whispered, “what you thought about me.”

“You have legs to die for. You have breasts to kill for and I want to lick you all over until you tell me to stop.”

The phone alarm sounded. Catherine turned it off. “To stop because I wouldn't like it?” she breathed.

“No, because you did,” murmured Miranda.

“Kiss me again – like you'd kiss me all over.”

Miranda pulled her down beside her on the bed. Then she kissed her again. Catherine's lips parted so that Miranda could insert her tongue. Catherine mewed like a cat and kicked off her heels. Miranda brushed the back of her hand against the silk top. Cathrinre arched her back.

“Tell me again what you'd do with my breasts.” Catherine's voice trembled.

"I'll show you.” Miranda undid one easy button, then another and then another.

“Don't stop.”

Miranda didn't. Then she unclasped the front of the strapless bra. Even in the dark, Cathrine's nipples were clearly long and tapered like the top joint of a little finger.

Her voice was huskily unsteady. “The scarf, under my pillow... tie my wrists, over my head.”

The scarf was long, heavy silk. As Miranda tied her hands to the bedframe, Catherine whispered, “Now I can't stop you, even if I wanted to.”

Miranda blew warm soft breath onto those sharp, wonderful nipples. Catherine moaned, arching her back. Miranda's fingers trailed around the blonde's waist until they found the zip. Miranda eased the skirt slowly down over long, creamy thighs.

Miranda left her on the bed, wearing only a black thong. She walked to the window and opened the curtains. Enough light filtered into the room for them to see each other.

In the middle of the room, Miranda shimmied slowly out of her black dress. She left her heels on the floor alongside the dress. She padded to the bed, breasts jiggling as she moved. She knelt beside Catherine and bent her head so tendrils of hair brushed the blonde's nipples. She slid one knee up between her thighs.

“I want more of you. More and more and more,” Catherine murmured.

With the tip of her tongue, Miranda ran slow wet circles around the erect nipples, making sure nothing else touched the blonde. Catherine spread her thighs wide as Miranda's knee pushed up against her thong. The material was slippery, soaked against her skin.

“You're driving me crazy,” Catherine gasped. Miranda took the tip of a breast in her mouth. She tongued it rhythmically, again and again. Catherine's body convulsed as though she was in agony. But the scream she gave was of pure delight.

Then Miranda went down on her. She made the thong into a soaking wet cord that she could roll over the blonde's clit. Catherine climaxed instantly like a randy sixteen year old in the back seat of a bad boy's car. Miranda slipped her tongue under the strip of thong. Catherine tasted of sex and desire. Miranda sucked on the swollen clit and made her explode into another shuddering climax.

Catherine lay quite still. Miranda undid her wrists.

“Take me to bed and hold me tight,” murmured the blonde.

So Miranda did. She thought about Robert as she drifted into sleep. She was owed six hours of slave time.

Miranda awoke alone in Catherine's bed. A note beside her read: Late USA conference calls. In hotel office. Sorry. XXX.

Her cellphone rang. It was just after six.

Catherine's voice was almost a purr. “I'm thinking about your long hot tongue.”

Miranda laughed softly. She wanted to say she was owed several orgasms but she didn't.

“How well do you play chess?” Catherine asked.

“Not badly.”

“Let's play. Susannah's Rules, for two hours slave time.”

“Okay," said Miranda. A bonus, she thought.

“Go have a shower and freshen up. Then dress for a date, what you took off will be good. In twenty minutes, I'll ring you back.”

Miranda was ready in fifteen. She thought about how quickly Catherine climaxed. There was a chess board on the main table. The pieces were in place. The board was surrounded by letters and numbers for postal or phone play. A double clock for timing each move stood next to a table lamp.

Her cell buzzed. “Are you ready for me ?” 

“Oh yes." Miranda felt a rush of anticipation.

Catherine said, “Put on the table light and close the curtains. Listening buds in both ears.”

Miranda did as she was asked. "Ready," she said.

“This is speed chess. Fifteen seconds for each move. Longer, you lose. Okay?”

“Okay.” Miranda's palms were damp.

 Take white and move first. Start now.”

After five moves Miranda had lost two bishops and both knights. After three minutes, her queen was gone and in just over four she had lost.

Catherine said, “You're a pushover; as easy as I was.”

“Now what?” said Miranda.

“Turn off the lamp. Stand up and dance like we did last night.”

The Girl from Ipanema flooded into her ear buds. She swayed her hips in the darkness and felt her nipples against her dress. She never heard them coming. From nowhere, two hard bodies sandwiched her tightly. Strong hands pinned her wrists to her sides.

“Enjoy," whispered Catherine.

A mouth spoke softly in her ear, “Hello again.” Then Miranda knew.

They carried her to the bed. They tied her wrists, gently but firmly, a blindfold covered her eyes. Her head whirled. But instead of horror and revulsion, Miranda felt something else: helplessness that turned to curiosity, fear that turned to anticipation and shame that flared into excitement and desire.

She sensed a face inches from her's. She smelled fresh black pepper and maybe red wine. The kiss, when it came, was gentle, almost tender.

“No,” she whispered.

Another kiss from another mouth that tasted faintly of mint. So did the tongue that flickered between her lips.

“Don't... please, no.” Miranda knew she had to say something.

Unprepared for the fingers that slid into her hair, she gasped. Lips found her's and a tongue probed deep into her mouth. She moaned quietly in the back of her threat. She let him slide his tongue aginst hers. Without thinking Miranda tilted her face up to him. When he pulled away, she was panting softly.

She said nothing. The shameless urge to have him do that again amazed her. She could just hear their quiet, slow breathing. She felt the warmth of their bodies not quite touching her.

Then a deep, long kiss that made her head swim. Dimly she was aware of expert fingers tugging at her shoulder straps. The neckline of her dress snagged her nipples.

She pulled her mouth away, panting. She heard herself say, “You mustn't.”

And then the sudden realisation that she didn't wanted them to stop. It was all a game and she had lost. Susannah's Rules rule. Miranda knew it, Robert knew it, Catherinee knew it and so did the twins.

They were going to have her, whatever she said. So, what the fuck...

Two powerful pairs of hands effortlessly rearranged how she lay. They kept her wrists tied and pushed pillows under her shoulders and the small of her back.

They'd done this before. Miranda wondered who with. She felt a face close. A mouth brushed over the tip of her nose and gently onto her lips. She liked to be kissed like that. He pushed his lower lip into her mouth, his tongue against the underside of hers. She tilted her head back as far as she could.

There was a touch of hair from another head that brushed the upper slope of her breasts. Then the head slid between them and she felt her dress tuggged right down to her waist.

With his teeth. she thought, With his fucking teeth. She wanted to push herself up off the bed.

The wet tip of a tongue trailed across the underside of her bare breasts. She couldn't stop herself from squirming into the sheet. The kissing twin had moved his mouth to her ear. It made he shiver.

“My brother Niall thinks your tits are sensational.”

“Tell him to fuck off,” she said. Then she arched her back up off the bed and moaned for brother Niall and his hot, hungry mouth.

“I'm Callum by the way. Do you ride?” He didn't wait for an answer. Her hands were untied, blindfold removed.

Suddenly, she was upright and straddled on the twin who had to be Niall.

“Suck me off,” he said.

“If you know how,” said Callum.

Miranda knew exactly how. She clamped his legs with the insides of her thighs. She bent forward, letting her hair brush the tip of his cock. He sucked air between his teeth. She turned her head and ran the tip of her tongue gently along the sensitive underside of the shaft.

His hips lifted and he groaned, “The bitch knows how.”

Slowly she ran the tip of her tongue around and around the helmet head. He jerked his hips off the bed and growled like an animal. Miranda felt a trickle of excitement running down the inside of her thigh. She felt powerful and excited. She tongued him again.

Callum sat in a chair by the bed, watching and masturbating with a slow, unhurried hand.

Niall's breaathing got louder. He snapped his head back with a grunt as she cupped his balls in one hand. She glanced sideways at Callum. His hand moved like before and his eyes gleamed. Miranda wanted the hand to move faster.

“It turns you on, doesn't it?” he said quietly. She nodded, unable to look away from the hand that now moved faster.

You have no idea, she thought. But he'd soon find out. Hot snakes stirred lazily in her belly.

Callum's voice was harsher, “Now you gorgeous bitch, suck all of him.”

Miranda did as she was told. She took his cock deep into her mouth. Niall flopped back into the bed and gasped like a hooked fish on a river bank. Then Callum was close behind her. One hand on her right breast, finger and thumb rolling the nipple, making her gasp.

“Open your legs for me,” he said. His fingers slipped right up inside her. She bucked her hips like a stripper and panted, “Don't stop.”

He barely touched her clit yet he could have made her come in a flash. He tugged her by the hair, away from Niall's cock. “ Taste youself,” he said slipping his fingers into her mouth.

She felt the length and thickness of his cock gliding along the valley between her buttocks. Callum whispered in her ear, “Make him come, do it now.”

Miranda moaned and cupped Niall's balls with one hand and gripped his shaft in the other. Then she moved her head faster. Niall's body went rigid and his breathing grew ragged and shallow. “I'm coming,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Miranda didn't stop. The thickness and length of Callum's cock was sliding faster along the cleft between her buttocks.

Niall began to shudder. His head went right back and he made gagging noises in his throat. Miranda felt a hot jet of cum hitting the back of her throat. Callum's hand in her hair dragged her head away from Niall's cock. He went on coming, pumping and jetting cum over her face and breasts. From behind, Callum scooped up cum in his hands. The heavy smell of pure sex made her dizzy with lust.

Callum's dripping fingers slid between her buttocks. Miranda moaned and whimpered like a bitch on heat. On her knees and elbow,s she pushed back hard. 

“Tell me something I know already,” said Callum. Miranda felt his cock nudge at her betweem her buttocks.

 Fuck me now and I'll come for you.” she squealed. “I'll scream for you, I'll do anything you want.”

Callum gripped her hips and pulled her towards him. Only the tip of his cock was inside her arse but it felt huge. She wanted more and she told him. Then she felt Niall wriggle underneath her. An intense wave of lust and desire swept through her.

Callum was rocking her hips and pushing deeper into her every time. “I love it, every fucking inch,” she whispered almost to herself.

Both Niall's hands were in her hair, pulling her mouth down to his. As his tongue slid against hers, his cock, hard as a sawn off pool cue, pushed gently against her clit. With one hand she reached for it, still wet and slippery with cum.

The tip slid easily inside her.

With a long drawn out shuddering moan she took him deep inside her. She heard Callum chuckle behind her. Then, with one achingly slow, smooth thrust, he too was completely inside her. For the first time in her life, she lost complete contol. The twins worked her into a frenzy of absolute lust. She writhed and thrashed and squealed with an excitement she had no idea existed.

In one smooth movement, they rolled her over. Callum had her arse from underneath while Niall fucked her from above. His body slapped against her, driving her down onto Callum's cock. She felt her first orgasm start in her toes. For a moment she fought it - and lost.

It started with a whispered, “I'm coming I'm coming,” and ended minutes later with a drawn out shriek of delight.

Both of them were still inside her but they let her lie panting for a moment. Then they started on her again. Callum's fingers found the sweet, swollen spot on her clit. It took them thirty seconds to get her right to the brink of climax. Then they let her sweat like she'd made Catherine sweat.

They made her come twice more. The second time they kept her on the edge even longer. When it came, the orgasm hit her like a multiple train crash. She came and she came until the world turned inside out and she fainted. When she came to, the twins had gone. Her phone said eight thirty.

She took Catherine's bathrobe, gathered her clothes, and hoped she would reach her room unseen.

She stank of sex and it aroused her. As she reached her room her cell buzzed. It was Robert and his dark brown velvet voice.

“Lunch,” he said. “Twelve thirty.”