Chapter 1
"Shut -you bastard!" Bruno glared at the suitcase, then sat heavily on it -shifting his weight up and down until it had closed tightly enough for him to secure the twin locks. Panting a little, he rose to his feet and carried the case into a corner of the bedroom.
He wiped his forehead and finished his drink, swallowing the neat whisky down in two quick gulps. Through the open door came the sound of the shower and Daphne's voice humming the latest pop song.
"How the hell does she pick them up so fast?" he wondered out loud. Then shrugged his shoulders. His wife was always a couple of jumps ahead of him: whether the trend was pop songs or fashions.
The man sniffed, stretched his arms out wearily, then began to knot his tie in front of the dressing table mirror. "Tomorrow, Mr Swanson", he told his reflection. "Tomorrow we'll be in Portugal, getting some of that lovely sun on your pale, wrinkled old face".
Then he peered a little closer and frowned. Lines were beginning to show quite clearly on his forehead and around his eyes. They weren't too deeply etched -not yet. But Bruna knew that a few more years of his present hectic pace would fill out the crowsfeet soon enough.
Too many cigarettes, too much alcohol -and too many godamned cocktail parties. To say nothing of the intense pressure of work ...
Bruno made a wry face at himself in the mirror and turned away from the tell-tale reflection. Why was there always a price on everything? he wondered. You couldn't get anywhere nowadays without having to pay for it in some way or other. Even when you were reasonably succesful you couldn't sit back and simply enjoy it. You lived under a constant compulsion to prove yourself all the time. You couldn't afford to relax -not completely relax -for a single moment.
He sat heavily on the bed and began to ease his feet into a pair of expensive black leather shoes. Lacing them up tightly, Bruno thought again of his precarious hold on fame and good living. All this: he glanced quickly around the room, taking in the long, black leather settee from Heals with its twin easy chairs; the lounge separated from the bedroom by a sliding panel which was now up; the wall-to-wall carpeting; the thick window curtains which opened and closed at the press of a button... all this: the Knightsb-ridge penthouse; his Savile Row suits it could all disappear practically overnight if he had another failure or two.
In fact, after the fiasco his last play had turned into, he'd be fortunate to survive at all unless his inspiration (and luck) took a sudden turn for the better.
Still, there was Douglas Wilder's synopsis on the bedside table... Bruno picked it up and flicked briefly through it. A further half-dozen copies were in the lounge and tonight they would be handed to the BBC and Independent Television producers who were attending his party.
In outline, it read like a damned fine play, Bruno thought. An experienced eye could see how it needed an imaginative director like himself to bring out all its qualities -and he had first option on directing it: in writing!
An unpublished, unknown writer, Douglas had sent the play to Bruno before his last production had been televised. And Bruno had quickly signed a contract with Wilder which gave him the right to sell it to either of the television authorities on a 50-50 basis. This was perfectly fair -or, rather, Bruno corrected himself bitterly: it had been perfectly fair. When they had drawn up the agreement Bruno was acknowledged as the most brilliant young director working in British television. Almost single-handedly he had raised the standards of tv. drama to the level of an art form without losing the mass viewing public in the process.
If anyone could persuade the producers to accept the work of a nobody it was Bruno Swanson. His name on the director's credit was sufficient guarantee for any play...
At least it had been until that costumed period piece he'd stupidly made such a mess of. Bruno threw the synopsis back onto the table. In this profession, no matter what your previous record was like, you were evaluated almost solely on your last production. Past successes counted for little: what the audiences and the critics thought of your penultimate play was the deciding factor in establishing your reputation.
If the viewing figures were low and the critics had either ignored or slated it, you'd be very lucky to get more than a couple of chances to redeem yourself. That was one of the drawbacks to being a freelance television director. Without the security of a contract you worked under intense pressure to maintain both your status and the fat fees which a successful independent could demand.
But a contract director could never earn the inflated fees which Bruno, by playing one television company against another, could command for his services. Until that last bloody play he'd had them all eating out of the palm of his hand. Now, unless he was able to sell them on Douglas' synopsis and do a fantastic job of directing it, the pendulum looked as if it had started to swing the other way...
The trouble was that Bruno had become something of a cult figure. And like most cults and trends his public and critical acclaim was an inconstant, unreliable phenomenon. He would slip from favour as soon as he showed the least sign of growing stale and unfashionable.
He looked up, suddenly conscious that he was no longer alone in the room. Daphne had been standing by his side for some moments and she now put her hand out and gentry ruffled his dark, tightly-curled hair.
"What's the matter, darling?" she asked softly. "Still worried about that last play?"
He nodded gloomily, unable to shift the depression which was stealing over him despite his efforts to elude it. "They've all been waiting for the great Bruno Swanson to screw up", he said. "And now he's done it." He smacked his fist into the palm of his hand. "You could almost smell the satisfaction at the BBC. Behind their 'tough luck, old boy' cliches and their smarmy condolences they were as happy as sand-boys. 'Swanson's had a flop at last!' they were thinking. The boy wonder's run out of inspiration'.
"You'll see it in their eyes tonight", he went on angrily. "The bastards! Well, we're going to show them! Once they've read Douglas's synopsis and I tell them they can't have the play unless / direct it -".
Daphne took his hand and sat down on the bed beside him. "Relax, baby", she soothed. "You know as well as I do that everything's going to work out fine." Her perfume, exotic and expensive, filled his nostrils. He could feel the silk of her negligee against his body; and beneath it the round curve of her breast thrusting forward into his shirt. "You and Douglas will get the final script ready for production while we're on holiday, and when we're back they'll be fighting each other for the privilege of producing it! They're not fools, whatever else they might be..."
While she spoke, Daphne began to caress the nape of his neck; her long, skilful fingers lulling him into a gradual easing of his tension. "Even from the synopsis they'll be able to tell that you're the only director who can do justice to the play".
She kissed him just below his ear, then, keeping her lips on his skin murmured: "Don't worry, precious!"
He slid his arm around her waist, feeling the suppleness of her flesh through the pale, flimsy pink negligee -and was reminded that Daphne, too, was a symbol of his success.
She was beautiful, desirable -and very, very sexy. Everything about her oozed gracious living and poised elegance. If it hadn't been for his sudden rise to fame in television, Bruno doubted if he would have met a girl like her: Let alone married her.
In every way they were opposites. She possessed a quality of absolute calm, of complete stillness. Nothing seemed capable of disturbing the inner tranquility of her life. Although she was one of London's leading fashion models, Daphne had never betrayed the least sign of tem perament. Her wealthy parents, now dead, had cushioned and protected her from every form of physical and psychological want. And since she was independently wealthy, her modelling was strictly a hobby -Daphne wouldn't mind too much if her offers of work suddenly ceased: like most things in her life, she didn't really need it ...
Bruno frequently wondered if she felt the same way about their relationship. It was an uncomfortable, disconcerting idea.
She stretched her body indolently on the bed, her pale green eyes closing; her tall, willowy figure beautiful in repose. Her negligee rose, barely covering her crotch, and Bruno could see the raised curve of her mons veneris thrusting beneath the hem of the garment.
He started to rub the inside of her leg, his fingers sinking deliciously into the softness of her white flesh. At the caress, Daphne moved her legs slighdy apart letting him catch a glimpse of her half concealed sex ...
Bruno marvelled again at the silken sheen of his wife's thigh. The skin was so tender; so warm and supple to his touch. He stroked upwards until the tips of his fingers were almost within reach of Daphne's swollen sex-lips, moving them up and down the inside of her thigh in a slow, hypnotic massage.
His eyes stared at the faint mark his hand was creating on her flesh. Under the pressure of his fingers, four red weals appeared -quickly fading as soons as they moved on. He pressed them more urgently into her thigh until the deep stains marred her skin for a longer period: finding the contrast between the white beauty of Daphne's thigh and the cruel welts raised by his fingers strangely exciting.
She wriggled her body sensuously, making the muscles of her legs alternately stiff and relaxed. Bruno slipped his other hand beneath her knee and gently raised it, then stroked down the fulless of Dahpne's under thigh. He caressed to the plumpness of her bottom and let his fingers rest there -curling in towards the pubic hair which was now clearly visible.
"What about our guests, darling?" Daphne murmured. Her voice was low and throaty; it did something to Bruno, stirring an impulse deep inside him to fling his body on top of hers and savagely sink his prick into the soft sweetness of her cunt.
"They won't arrive for another hour", he said thickly. "In any case... let 'em wait!"
He squeezed the round flesh beneath his fingers, feeling it give voluptuously. Daphne sighed. "You ought to relax, I suppose" she whispered sexily. "Get rid of that tension ..."
Bruno wriggled up on the bed until he was lying beside his wife. Keeping his right hand under her thigh he cradled her head with the other and brought her mouth against his.
He kissed her fiercely, pushing his lips onto hers and almost immediately driving his tongue wetly between her teeth. Daphne opened her mouth and he inserted his tongue, licking at the luscious warmth until the tip of her tongue met his and they melted sexily together.
She began to make tiny breathy sounds -urging her lips against Bruno's and sliding them beautifully from side to side. Her clever tongue flicked in and out of his mouth, tapping against his teeth, quivering and tempting. Bruno felt it striving to penetrate him as fully as possible, and he reluctantly withdrew his own tongue from Daphne's mouth and allowed her to explore him as intimately as she wished.
Daphne made her tongue revolve in a slow, tantalising action around Bruno's lips; circling the fleshy and sensitive inside of his mouth -poking the very tip of the liquid, live muscle against the back of his teeth.
He pulled her sharply against him, turning her on her side until he could feel the firm thrust of her breasts against his chest. Her body strained wildly against his, the hard mound of her sex pressing excitingly into his stiffening prick.
Bruno kept one hand around her shoulders, letting the other slide gradually down the silk of her back. His fingers caressed downwards until they felt the base of Daphne's spine and the globular swell of her buttocks. The negligee ended here, rucked up so that the full expanse of the girl's arse-cheeks was exposed.
He slowly passed his hand over the hem, then slid his fingers onto the warm orbs of her bottom. The cheeks were relaxed and wobbled slightly as his hand strayed over them -cupping and raising the heavy white globes, moving from one to the other in turn.
Daphne murmured into his mouth; soft, gentle breathings which stirred the man quickly and made his cock pulse into a full, ripe erectness.
She caressed the back of his neck, running her long fingers up and down the sensitive nape and into the short hair. Bruno eased his other hand down to her buttocks and massaged the cheeks tenderly -opening them, closing them, turning them over under his exploring fingers...
Daphne's tongue was still in his mouth, still twisting sexily around and provoking him with its ceaseless, wet touting. He pushed a forefinger into the deep crevice of her arse, running it with slow deliberation up and down the warm valley. It slid over the hidden orifice of her anus, stole to the moist, hot hole of her cunt ... then retraced its path -now moving out of the divide and pressing firmly into Daphne's spine.
With a deep sigh, she withdrew her tongue from his lips, giving him a final kiss before opening her eyes and regarding him with a slumberous, desiring expression.
Bruno turned over on his back as she pressed her fingers into his hip. His hands fell away from her buttocks, and he let them rest passively at his side. Daphne held his eyes in an unwavering stare, locking them hypotically to hers as she rearranged her position on the bed: finally kneeling over him with her negligee opening at its neckline and her hands plucking insistently at the belt of his trousers.
Without taking her eyes from his, she slowny unzipped his fly and tugged his trousers off. Through the brief black Skants Bruno's prick rose lustfully -its crown, with the sharply pointed head, clearly outlined beneath the tight silk.
Daphne retraced the path of her hands up his now-bare legs. She stroked persuasively and firmly, keeping her fingers on the inside of his thighs, rubbing meaningfully into the muscular flesh.
Bruno let his eyes drop to the neck of his wife's negligee. The twin melons of her breasts could now be seen fully. They swayed gently as her body moved, hanging with ripe firmness -the tips a thick, deep red where the nipples had already begun til harden.
She was massaging the area of thigh just below his crotch now, her skilful fingers kneading the flesh in a beautifully sensuous series of strokes. Her hands were very gradually moving towards the thick protuberance of Bruno's cock, which was now quivering strongly under the erotic restraint of his silken underpants.
At last, when Bruno felt that he would go crazy with frustration, Daphne allowed her fingertips to brush against the stiff meat of his prick. The light touch sent it pulsing more violently than ever, and a she ran her forefinger quickly up and down the tender underside, he could scarcely control himself: with all his might he wanted to rip the tight pants off and let his penis break free of its silk prison. But Daphne loved the preliminaries to the sex act... loved to prolong them as much as humanely possible ... and he knew that she would be disappointed if he terminated her "games" too abruptly.
So, his breath quickening and his eyes hot and lustful, Bruno forced himself to remain still and allow her to take her own sweet time about uncovering his cock.
She was bending over him more closely now: he could feel her exhalation of air on his bare stomach. And her hands were moving more intimately over his sex, beginning to examine the outline of his balls and the long shaft of his prick.
But she had not yet made any attempt to pull the underpants down. Bruno tensed and untensed the muscles of his back, writhing his hips in an effort to persuade her to quicken the seduction.
Daphne blew a sweet but infuriating kiss at him. Her lips, puckered and moist, then swooped suddenly down and fastened greedily onto the arrowhead of his penis closing around the hard, throbbing crown and sucking with furious gulps through the thin silk which separated the meaty flesh from her mouth.
Bruno closed his eyes tightly. The sensation of those soft, womanly lips on his prick was exquisite. And the steady pull of her mouth sent a violent surge of pleasure through his entire body.
Her fingers were holding the lower half of his cock steady; squeezing the hard stem, almost releasing it then squeezing it even harder. He could feel her wonderful teeth nibbling softly on his penis, biting with an exquisitely half-painful, half-pleasurable pressure until the weapon jumped wildly in the tight confines of her mouth.
She drew harder and harder on it: soaking the black material of his Skants as her saliva dribbled helplessly over her full, pursed lips. Then, stealthily, Daphne slipped one finger beneath the tight elastic and started to fondle his scrotum.
Aroud and around the tender, erotic place she stroked; insistent, unrelenting. Bruno squirmed in delicious agony, hands clenching and unclenching. Her remorseless finger at last tickled up a little higher, and soon Bruno felt Daphne's sharp fingernail sliding over his balls, making them jiggle from side to side and itch with a powerful, maddening irritation.
Carefully, she lifted his pants away, raising them so that his balls were uncovered but his prick was still encaced in the black silk.
The pants were so wet by now that Bruno could feel Daphne's lips and teeth against his cock as if they were unhindered by any protection. Daphne seemed to sense that the time was now ripe for her to bare his prick and suck it properly, for she dragged the right side of his pants up -momentarily relinquishing her hold on his penis -and allowed the fiery red rod to burst into full view.
His eyes were hot and misty, but Bruno saw through a kind of red haze that Daphne was licking her lips, savouring the prospect of wrapping them around his nude and fleshy prick. She had tugged the pants into his crotch, and Bruno felt the elastic biting into his skin. His shaft was now completely naked -the long, wide weapon twitching from side to side as if it was being battered by a heavy wind.
He raised his hand, the one nearest to Daphne's crouching body, and slipped it into the top of her negligee -letting his fingers cup the warmth of her down-hanging breast. He pressed the soft flesh gently, then flattened his palm and pushed it upwards, squashing her breast against her chest. The nipple burned into his hand and he brought his forefinger and thumb together around it and squeezed ...
The hard, bright ruby stiffened under his tweaking, growing thicker and larger; making Bruno long to take it into his mouth and suck deeply and strongly on it!
This desire was suddenly dispelled by an even more exquisite sensation, however. Daphne had taken his cock into her mouth -but instead of securing her lips around the hot stem she had kept them open! Her breath came beating down on his prick, making it feel as if he had put it into a warm oven!
Then she started to lick over and over the crown her tongue lapping in a quick, feverish motion, making the tender point itch frantically. He tightened his hold on her breast, clenching his fingers ruthlessly around the inflamed nipple -trying to force Daphne to close her lips and suck him properly.
Finally, she yielded to his silent but insistent demands. With a strange, gurgling sound, she tightened her mouth around the thickness of his cock and began to chew and worry the hard gristle.
Bruno relaxed, the steady rhythm of her sucking lulling him into a pleasant, drowsy intoxication; slowly minimising his tension and, eventually, calming him completely. With even, regular strokes of her lips, Daphne brought him to a peaceful, sensuous state where his anxieties and worries evaporated to the point of nonexistence.
The action of her mouth becoming instinctive and automatic, Daphne's mind paused in its enjoyment of Bruno's prick to wonder again at the curious effect this form of love-making had upon her husband. Most men would grow wildly excited by such an intimate and arousing caress. To have a beautiful woman fondle your cock with her hps -sucking and licking at the meat with the expertise she knew she possessed... surely it would stir them into a frenzy of lust?
But Bruno grew more and more passive; content to lie perfectly still and submit to the treatment without movement or the least sign of passion. There was no doubt that he enjoyed it. She glanced up at him. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted -and he wore an expression of bliss; a steady, dreamy smile playing on his mouth.
And yet Bruno always remained so quiet, so damned passive! Daphne could never induce him to shoot his spunk into her mouth, no matter how hard she tried. He simply refused, forcing her to withdraw her lips before his orgasm approached and concluding their love-making by fucking her in the more usual way.
She longed to actually taste his sperm -hungered for the rich, foamy fluid to gush into her mouth... But Bruno, though he would never explain his reluctance, denied her this pleasure. And since he was the only man she had ever sucked, it seemed that Daphne would never know the sensation. Unless...
Unless she had an affair! Perhaps surprisingly, in view of their careers (in both the television and the fashion worlds promiscuity was, of course, rife) neither of them had ever taken a lover. Dahpne felt sure that she would know if Bruno had a mistress -and she herself had never met a man who attracted her enough to warrant the risk of losing Bruno.
It was, she insisted, only a small and unimportant thing, this refusal of her husband to come in her mouth. And she tried to suppress the desire, renewing her sucking of his prick with vigour -blotting out the urge as much as she could.
Yet the fleshy taste of his manhood, the rich, firm meat was so beautifully hard between her hps. How gorgeous it would be to have your mouth flooded with his white sperm ...!!
Daphne ran her tongue more quickly around the ridge of Bruno's foreskin -gliding it wetly over the vulnerable place and hopping against hope that this time he would be forced to shoot his spunk before he realised his climax was upon him.
But Bruno came suddenly to life. He sat up abruptly on the bed and grabbed her upper arm, dragging her face away from his prick.
A sharp pang of terrible frustration screamed shrilly through Daphne's mind. Once again the pleasure for which she hungered had been snatched away from her at the last moment. Her body trembled, and for a moment she felt like rolling away from Bruno -repaying him by refusing to be fucked ...
But the urge in her cunt was too intense to be suf focated by thoughts of mere revenge. She allowed him to sprawl on top of her and ease his rigid prick between her soft thighs. Her fingernails clawed at his back, scratching at the broad muscle as he began to lever his cock between the lips of her quim.
"Kiss me!" she gasped. "Oh, darling, kiss me!"
He crushed his mouth against hers, thrusting his tongue violently into her at the same time as his prick entered the tight slit of her cunt.
Daphne raised her legs, lifting them and driving her ankles into the small of his back. Bruno eased his throbbing rod fully into her, feeling the wetness of her slippery, rubbery walls constrict his cock and suck it tighter and tighter into the beautiful channel.
He began to fuck her passionately, sliding his dick fiercely in and out of her hot, gluey hole -the friction seeming to draw his sperm remorselessly and of its own volition from his testicles.
Daphne had reached her orgasm almost as soon as Bruno's cock had first entered her. She was wet and sticky, the depths of her cunt oozing with love-juice. She felt his spunk start to erupt -the boiling fat beginning to spurt into her in long spasms -and wanted to hold him back, delay his climax somehow. She wasn't ready, she wanted more, it was too soon ...
But Bruno had been brought almost to fever pitch by her sucking and the feel of his wife's quim around his prick spurred and hastened his orgasm to a point where he could no longer control himself.
Feeling for her breast -once more pinching her hard red nipple between his fingers -Bruno twitched his loins frantically in an abandoned, fucking rhythm ... and launched his sperm-jets with all the power and fury he could muster.
They gushed into Daphne's cunt; four hard, lengthy spasms of thick male juice ... and the girl clenched her buttocks tightly, holding Bruno's prick in the vicelike grip of her quim for as long as possible.
All too soon, though, his cock slackened and Bruno began to withdraw. Daphne fought back the waves of frustration, the mounting despair at having her pleasure terminated so prematurely. She realised it was simply because Bruno had become over-excited in the early stages and had been unable to control himself. Normally, he was a beautiful lover -and in any case, if they had more time, she knew that he would be both willing and able to satisfy her completely.
But in half an hour their first guests would start to arrive; and the party was a very important one -it could make a tremendous difference to Bruno's career. She opened her legs and he slid right out of her, rolling over onto his side, breathing heavily.
Daphne watched his chest rising and falling as Bruno slowly climbed down from the ecstatic heights of his orgasm. She kissed him softly on his cheek, murmuring: "Relax for a few minutes, darling. Ill get dressed and finish tidying up ..."
Quickly, Daphne got off the bed and slipped out of her negligee. She stepped under the shower again and soaped her cunt carefully, trying to ignore the urge which crept through her sex as her fingers worked up a lather; the feel of her own hands on her flesh giving her a strong temptation to fondle the lips and complete the satisfaction which Bruno had denied her.
The hot water was like a caress to her white, soft flesh. Daphne leaned back so that the jets hit her stomach and crotch, washing away the pungent odour of Bruno's sperm and, at the same time, stinging the half open lips of her quim with a fierce, hard patter of droplets.
She closed her eyes, fingers splayed on her pubic mound -almost unconsciously drawing the slit wider so that the water dripped down into the outer lips. Dreamily, Daphne began to wonder what it would be like to have sex under the warm rain of the shower. To have a wet, naked body pressed up against hers, hands fondling her breasts, touching the nipples so that they perked up stiffly ...
While the spray bathed them in a delicious, steamy heat, they would soap each other lovingly -using their hands to froth up a generous lather. Their breasts would rub together, the large wet globes melting into one another; their firm, sexy crotches Daphne opened her eyes in sudden shock. An awful emptiness seemed to open out beneath her; a yawning chasm which threatened her with black, unknown terrors. She gripped the shower walls to steady herself as panic sent a flood of adrenalin racing through her body.
And the fantasy was too strong, too detailed to be thrust immediately aside. Again, even while she tried desperately to suppress it, Daphne visualised that beautiful, naked woman holding her tightly and fondling her while they were washed by the hard jets of hot water.
Numbly, she reached up and turned the shower off. This was the first time such a situation had even occurred to her, let alone appeared so oddly attractive and exciting. Daphne began to dry herself, remaining inside the shower stall: afraid to look at Bruno (or to let him see her while she was feeling like this).
"It was only a daydream -a silly little fantasy!" she tried to reassure herself -speaking aloud in a soft whisper. But the sound of her voice reminded her of her femininity, of her sex... and, in turn, this conjured up once more the alluring picture of another girl pressing up tightly to her: naked and voluptuous ...
No matter how fiercely she tried to dispell them, the images stayed sharp and clear in her mind. The warmth and softness of that female body against hers had, even in fantasy, seemed so provocative and desirable!
Daphne couldn't understand what had started such a reverie. It was completely against her nature, completely alien to her. She shivered, although the steam in the shower had made the temperature soar. Maybe it was just a result of her frustration, she thought. Nothing more than resentment at Bruno (and, by implication, at all men) for terminating their pleasure too quickly.
Phrases came floating up from her mind, ideas that she'd read long ago and had practically forgotten.
"Some women are attracted by a homosexual relationship because they know instinctively that another female can give them longer and more intense pleasure..."
"It isn't necessary for a woman to dislike the male sex for her to enjoy lesbian favours; she may find them pleasurable simply because they are a novelty..."
Daphne licked her already wet lips. The shock induced by the revelation that she possessed certain lesbian tendencies was fading now. And although the idea of making love to another girl was an uncomfortable one, it no longer frightened her quite so intensely.
She couldn't imagine herself ever crossing the bridge which divided fantasy from reality and actually putting her desires into practice, but at least these hitherto undetected impulses could be faced without horror and self-disgust.
Daphne wondered briefly why she had never felt even a faint sexual attraction towards other women until this moment. It was odd, really. In a few weeks she would be 28, yet it seemed as if her sexual development was still not complete...
She stepped softly from the shower, dried her feet, and walked on tiptoe back to the bedroom. Bruno was still asleep. He sprawled on the bed, his penis lack, his mouth open: snoring gently.
As she dressed, Daphne was unable to stifle a feeling of distaste for his hairy, rather ugly nude body. Again, the image of a gentle, soft-skinned girl came to her mind cuddling her warmly and intimately ...
Before the picture could take hold again and become an insistent, exciting idea, Daphne leaned over her sleeping husband and shook him roughly.
"Bruno!" she called loudly. "Wake up, darling: it's getting late!"
He stirred, grunting his way out of a deep slumber, rubbing his eyes. Daphne stepped back from him, her mind's eye superimposing on his muscular frame the curvy contours of a voluptuous girl...
She blinked the persistent fantasy away, now irritable and angry with herself for not being able to control it. The chimes sounded at that moment and she turned gratefully back to the door.
"I'll get it, darling", she told Bruno. "You'd better hurry up and get dressed".
"It's only Douglas and Caroline", he said, stretching and yawning. "I told them to get here early so I could brief them on how to talk. Tell them I'll be with them in a minute".
She left him fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and walked into the lounge. Her heart was beating rather more rapidly than usual, and it wasn't until she stepped into the hall and opened the front door that she realised why.
Caroline! Douglas Wilder's wife, Caroline! Daphne could scarcely take her eyes away from the beautiful young girl who stood in the porch. She had met the girl only once before, though Douglas had been a regular visitor to their flat during the past two weeks. But a strange and thrilling sensation passed through her as she stood there staring at Caroline's remarkably large and firm bosom. Her wrap was half-open and the upper slopes of the girl's exquisitely white breasts were spilling out of her low-cut evening dress.
Daphne raised her eyes with an effort and smiled at the couple. "Nice to see you again, Caroline", she said, taking the girl's hand in her own. "You too, Douglas". He nodded pleasantly at her and Daphne noticed that he seemed rather nervous and on edge. The prospect of meeting so many important people all at once, she decided. Poor Douglas! He was taking quite a chance -throwing in his lot with Bruno. Though her husband had quite unashamedly conned him into this situation; and Douglas probably didn't realise just how precarious Bruno's standing with the television moguls was at present.
Still, Daphne had a great deal of faith in Bruno's talent. She had read Douglas's play herself and she knew that if anyone could bring out all the subtleties and tensions in it to perfection, it was her husband.
"Ill fix you a drink", she went on, leading them into the lounge. "Bruno won't be more than a few minutes. As you know, he wants to "brief you' on how to handle the producers!" She laughed. "He doesn't think anyone can put over a proposition to them except himself. And he wants to give them a really hard sell on your play, Douglas..."
Douglas took his Martini and cleared his throat. "To the play!" he proposed, and they clinked glasses and drank, Daphne looking over the rim of her glass to watch Caroline surreptitiously.
She was a very sexy-looking girl, Daphne decided, carefully appraising Caroline's deep brown eyes and auburn hair. The hair was long, and Caroline usually wore it so that the tresses cascaded over her shoulders. But tonight, presumably because she felt this was rather a formal occasion, the beautifully luxuriant hair had been built up high on her head. Daphne suddenly burnt with a desire to unfasten it and watch the golden plaits shimmer down the girl's back... until they hung over those marvellously firm-looking breasts -which, of course, would be naked and hard-nippled ...
Caroline met her eyes suddenly and the looked quickly away again. Daphne caught a trace of embarrassment in the girl's expression -and realised that she thought Daphne was studying her critically; finding fault with her appearance.
Or could it be that Caroline saw the appreciation in her eyes and understood that Daphne was looking at her rather more intensely than a mere sizing-up would warrant?
The uneasy atmosphere was broken by Bruno's entrance. He opened the door suddenly and practically bounded into the room -rushing up to Douglas and shaking his hand powerfully, at the same time putting his arm around Caroline's shoulders and drawing them both into a warm embrace.
"Great to see you!" he exclaimed. "You look beautiful, Caroline -really tremendous!" He pecked her on the cheek affectionately, then turned his attention entirely to Douglas.
"Listen", he began. "We haven't got much time before the others arrive and there's a lot of things I want to tell you..."
He drew the man towards the settee and Douglas sank down into the cushions, shrugging his shoulders helplessly at the two women as Bruno stood over him and began talking quickly and urgently.
Daphne smiled at Caroline. "We'd better leave them to get on with it", she said. "Come and sit down next to me. We can get to know each other a little better. After all, the four of us are going to spend a whole fortnight together starting tomorrow".
She took Caroline's hand -mildly surprised at her outward show of calm when her heart was still hammering and her nerves felt taut as a bowstring -and led the girl to an easy chair. While Caroline settled herself rather primly on the edge of the cushions, Daphne sank informally onto a pouffe at the girl's knee -tucking her feet under her body and resting her elbow on the arm of Caroline's chair.
"Do you really think they'll accept the play?" Caroline asked her suddenly. "Somehow, you know, I just can't see any of the companies putting it on, even with Bruno directing it. It's a very unusual theme for television, isn't it? And -".
Something about Caroline's choice of words made Daphne realise that she, at any rate, had guessed that Bruno's present reputation could do more harm than good to Douglas's play.
"What you mean, darling", she interrupted. "Is that ith Bruno urging them to produce it, the chances are that -y'll refuse the play simply out of spite! Isn't that what you're really trying to say?"
Daphne watched sharply for Caroline's reaction. The girl blushed and bit her lower lip in confusion; and it became immediately obviously to Daphne that she had scored a direct hit. To Caroline's credit, however, she noted that the girl didn't try to deny the truth of Daphne's accusation.
"Well... yes, I suppose it is!" she stammered. Caroline leaned forward confidentially until her face was only a few inches from Daphne's. The girl's scented skin and the wider opening of her cleavage made Daphne feel weak and dizzy with a strange, persistent desire. It was all she could do to keep her eyes averted from the enticing, seminudity of Caroline's breasts. Caroline whispered:
"Please understand, Daphne -I don't mean to sound rude or ungrateful. It was very kind of Bruno to read Doug's play in the first place and sponsor it... But after the way his last production flopped -".
Caroline bit her lip again. "I'm sorry -".
Daphne shook her head. She glanced towards Bruno and Douglas. They were deeply engrossed in conversation -Bruno doing most of the talking. "Thats all right, darling", she said. "For God's sake, let's be frank with each Other -in a little while, when the big men and their over-dressed women arrive, the air will be thick with lies and innuendos! Come on, tell me exactly what you Ihink!"
"Well, you know that I work for the BBC -as a secretary", Caroline went on. She was speaking so quietly How that Daphne moved her head even closer to the girl.
Their cheeks brushed softly, Caroline whispering into Daphne's ear, and Daphne half-closed her eyes in a sweetly blissful excitement as she felt the girl's softness so close to her body.
"Naturally, I hear an awful lot of gossip -about things that go on in the commercial companies as well as the BBC. The other day 1 saw an unofficial letter from an important BBC producer to one of the top Independent Television bosses. It suggested that Bruno should be black-listed from now on! It said they wanted to get rid of him for a long while -because he was getting too influential.
"He's made a lot of enemies, as I expect you know". Daphne nodded silently. "It's mainly because his work is so good that it shows up the mediocre stuff most of the other people turn out", Caroline went on quickly. "All they needed was an excuse -like a big flop -then they'd get together and see so it that he never worked in television again".
Caroline took Daphne's hand impulsively. "I remember one line of the letter by heart", she said. "It went: *We can't afford a genius in t.v. -think what he could do to the rest of us'. It sounds crazy, to think that they'd stifle talent like Bruno's just out of spite -but I've worked for them long enough to know that they're capable of such a stupid, dirty trick!"
Daphne was surprised to see that Caroline was so enraged, so worked up about the injustice to her husband. And then she realised that by associating with Bruno, Douglas would receive similar treatment at the hands of the television moguls. If Bruno praised his work and urged them to produce it, that would be the kiss of death...
On the other hand "Listen", Daphne whispered. "You might well be right about the blacklisting -though I doubt if every single producer would agree to it. But you mustn't underrate them: they wouldn't dare to throw away a really good play, there's too few of them about for one thing ...
"Caroline -". (This wasn't entirely for Bruno's benefit, Daphne realised. She wasn't doing this to save his career: she had a far more personal motivation). "I don't think Bruno knows it's gone as far as this: he suspects that they've got it in for him, but I'm sure he doesn't realise he might not get another chance ...
"Look -Douglas brought the play to Bruno in the first place because he knew that my husband could take it to a producer and get the highest price for it and the most expensive budget. Maybe things are a little different now; maybe Bruno needs Douglas more than the other way around ...
"Once they've read the synopsis, they'll still be clamouring to produce the play. Whoever showed it to them in the first place! It doesn't matter! Believe me, Caroline, it's a damned fine play and they're simply not stupid enough to pass it by".
"Have you told Douglas about the letter yet?" Caroline nodded. "What did he say?"
"We're here, aren't we?" the girl replied. "You can see for yourself that he hero-worships Bruno: he won't hear a thing against him!"
"All right then. Now, supposing I ask you to leave things as they are at present? Supposing I ask you not to put any kind of pressure on Douglas to back out of his agreement with Bruno? Would you do that?"
Caroline sighed. "I've spent the entire evening before we arrived here telling him to do just that!" she said wearily. "And it hasn't made the slightest bit of difference! I was going to take things into my own hands when we met the producers: create a scene and force Douglas to stand on his own two feet. But now that I'm here, now that we've talked like this..." She shook her head and sighed again. "I don't know", she admitted. "I really don't know what to do for the best".
Daphne, still holding the girl's hand, gave the warm, slender fingers an affectionate squeeze.
"I like you, Caroline", she murmured. "I like you an awful lot! I'd like to be very good friends with you honestly!"
Caroline frowned, unsure how to take this rather odd and irrelevant remark. But she made no attempt to disengage her hand from Daphne's.
"Do this for me, darling", Daphne continued, beginning to stroke the girl's fingers slowly and deliberately. "Give Bruno a chance -you won't regret it. I promise, you won't regret it!"
She brought her lips very close to Caroline's ear, whispering sexily and letting her arm brush as if by accident against the girl's breasts. "You'll see -they'll give Bruno another opportunity to direct, and he'll do such a good job on Doug's play that your husband will be able to name his own price for his future work!
"It's not too much to ask of you, it is? After all, Douglas himself has faith in Bruno: why shouldn't we?"
Caroline licked her lips -and the tip of her tongue rubbed momentarily, electrically, against Daphne's cheek. The girl trembled. It was only an accident, she told herself. Only an accident! Don't jump to conclusions! But Caroline's breasts seemed to press more firmly against her arm -resting heavily on Daphne's bare flesh. She felt her heart beginning to race again ...
"I came here tonight with the intention of telling you that we didn't want to go on holiday after all", Caroline was saying. "I was going to be a real bitch and jump off the sinking ship! That was cowardly of me, wasn't it?"
Daphne waited silently for her to continue. "I'm sorry", Caroline whispered. "I'll do what you said: I won't talk Doug out of his association with Bruno -even if I thought I could do it!" She smiled a little sadly. "If they do turn us down I suppose he can always send it to an American t.v. company! Though they're supposed to be worse than us for in-fighting, aren't they?
"Anyway, if they really are as petty-minded as that to refuse to consider a play simply because they've got a grudge against the man who holds an option on directing it... screw them!!"
Daphne twisted her head round in surprise. The crude epithet sounded rather shocking on the girl's sweet and innocent lips. Caroline smiled at her. "Don't pretend you haven't heard that phrase before", she said mockingly. "I know them all -and I bet you do, too!"
Daphne pressed her fingers tightly, then released the girl's hand. "I'm glad you're on our side, Caroline", she murmured. "Very, very glad!"
The door chimes went again and Daphne got to her feet. "Let's charm the hell out of these bastards!" she said grimly. "We'll show them they haven't got a monopoly on conspiracies!" Then she set her face into a fixed smile and deliberately tugged the bodice of her evening gown a little further off her shoulders, revealing rather more of her breasts than was usual.
She paused at the settee and gave Bruno's hand a squeeze. "All set, darling?" He grinned at her. "All set!"
And she walked to the door and flung it open. "Very good of you to come, Mr. Greene. You, too, Mrs. Greene. Here ... let me take your coats ..