Proserpina
I relinquished my children to the maids with some hesitation; I had never done this before. They had always been with me or somewhere close by.
But this evening they seemed exhausted and were too tired to create a fuss. Piers was already dozing by the time I had finished supervising the arrangement of their rather limited number of clothes. Seeing that they were washed and changed, I turned to leave.
I realized that I was drained, and after gulping down a cup of hot, sweet tea, I followed Beatrice to a door at the end of the landing. An elevator at the end of the landing intrigued me.
Catching my curious gaze, Beatrice rolled her eyes and said.
'He stays upstairs. Got the entire floor. No one there 'çept hisself.'
I was too tired to point out that the house belonged to HIM anyway, he could run around naked if he wished.
Yawning, I remained silent.
She threw open the door with the flourish of a magician, and I stopped in the doorway, awed. A woman's room, all pearl grey and pale pink. Drapes hung at the floor-to-ceiling windows, shutting out the light from the setting sun. The room overlooked the lawn and I saw that there was a tiny balcony beyond. The furniture was white and pretty, but it was the sight of the huge bed which made me want to slip under the covers and forget the world.
Enormous, the covers pulled back invitingly, it seemed to beckon me.
Beatrice had been observing me carefully, and as I turned, she asked,
"Not very old, are you? Twenty?"
I blushed as I realized she was wondering how a man in his forties could have found a woman who was so different from him.
Sensing my consternation, she waved her dimpled arms and said,
'Ah, I've known Mr. Lucien for years." I knew there was something goin' on a year ago, but I never saw you here. Then the man took to drinking big time, and I knew something'd gone wrong."
She pursed her lips and continued to stare at me thoughtfully, hands on hips.
Having had enough of being stared at like an animal on sale, I said tiredly,
"I'd like to have a wash. Can you..."
Apologizing loudly, she left still talking, informing me that there were clothes of all sizes in the wardrobe. Kicking off my well-worn footwear, I sighed in pleasure as my feet literally disappeared into the soft carpet.
The summer sunlight had faded, and I wanted to take a bath to wash off the grime and tiredness of the journey. Closing the door, I padded across to the bathroom and gasped in wonder when I pushed open the door.
Open-mouthed, I stood for a while, admiring the washroom done entirely in baby pink marble. It had all sorts of the latest gadgets, some of which I had never seen before. A Jacuzzi at one end on a raised platform that opened onto a small enclosed terrace with lush green grass on the ground. I gasped as I realized that it would be like bathing in the open air! The sudden recollection that Lucien might come storming into the room made me hurry.
I stripped hastily and entered the rather spacious shower cubicle, which was lined with mirrors. It made me pause in embarrassment. I was so used to the tiny bathroom with the stone walls in the monastery that this was positively decadent! Imagining what would happen if Lucien were to barge into the bathroom, I had to hurry, and ignoring the luxurious bathtub, I opted for a shower.
I let down my long hair and stood under the shower, allowing the warm water to cascade onto my upturned face, using every bath accessory I could find with a vengeance.
An array of soaps and shower gels and women's accessories scattered on the shelves lining the marble walls seemed to invite me to use them. Another pang of jealousy stabbed me as I wondered if they had belonged to "Sweetie'. One cupboard had all sorts of strange-looking objects that left me gazing stupidly until I guessed what they were-they were sex toys.
Blushing furiously, I slammed the shelf shut.
Tiredness engulfed me as I towelled myself, slipping into a pale green bathrobe of the softest material after drying my long hair, which smelled clean now.
For a while, I sat on the edge of the bed, facing the door, trying to think of what I would do and how I would face the man who had my emotions in his hands. I noticed how like an old-fashioned-looking boudoir it seemed-the room a mistress would have had in the time of a lost era. The fleecy carpets, the cushions tossed carelessly on the soft mattress...
Sighing I patted the downy pillows. By now, I was yawning and longing to sleep. I felt so exhausted.
Having sat around for almost an hour, I realized that Lucien had not returned, and with a pang, I realized that he must have gone away with that woman. Shrugging away the vague disappointment I felt, I went in search of Ria and Piers. After a quick check on my children, both of whom were now fast asleep under the vigilant eyes of the smiling nursemaids, I made my way back to the room after having a wafer-thin light sandwich. The inviting sight of the bed had me set aside my reservations, and yawning hugely, I tumbled into the soft bed, falling asleep almost instantly.
***
It was dark when he made his way home. Lucien raked his hand through his hair as he entered the house, having had to go on a long drive with Patricia Longstern, aka Sweetie. It had taken some strong convincing to send away the blonde woman who had been his lover off and on for the last couple of months. She had made an interesting bedmate, was open to some very out-of-the-box ideas in the bedroom, and was not averse to having other men take her while Lucien watched. The sight only filled him with disgust, and he knew she was a slattern, as Schwartz had once said, crinkling his handsome face in loathing.
But the electric sparks that existed between Proserpina and himself had been missing. Patty was more like an enthusiastic gymnast who was obsessed with herself and her acrobatics in bed. One of her favourite activities had been admiring herself in the mirrors as she performed sexual acts.
'Patty's self-love was immense," he thought drily. She had bored him soon enough, but she had been clinging to him for a while now, more of a nuisance than anything else. The thought of fawning over him in public, being photographed by the paparazzi as she elegantly alighted from the luxurious vehicles he traveled in, the expensive holidays, and buying whatever took her fancy-it had all been too much for her to resist, although she had been astute enough to have figured out that she was definitely on the way out of his life.
After a bout of tears that miraculously dried up at the sight of a fat check and the promise of some expensive gifts, he managed to drop her back at the little house in the suburbs. He could almost see the wheels churning in her mind as she selected her next wealthy lover.
Scowling darkly, he accepted that no one had the power to move him like the young woman he had dragged back unwillingly from Bhutan. Her defiance only added to her attractiveness, and his breathing quickened as he strode into the house. She had always had the power to hold him in thrall, and he had fought against it, wary of giving in to any sort of hold over him. And motherhood had made her seductive body even more voluptuous; the curvaceous figure had been hard for her from the time they boarded the aircraft.
Watching the demure way she held the children suckling at her rosy, firm teats had been too much; he had gone to the tiny washroom in the aircraft to fist himself to a climax, groaning as he did so.
Lucien Delano's mother, a j**kie who had sold her body for her fixes, had certainly influenced him, he thought grimly. Watching her being used by men as he grew up on the streets, using his fists and his wits to stay alive, had damaged him, as the psychiatrists would say, he supposed.
It was now dark; the lights in the mansion had been turned on, and his bodyguards hovered around. Although he could not see them, he knew that the rest of his security detail was spread across the grounds, alert.
"The club could wait tonight," he thought grimly as he took the stairs and confronted his housekeeper as she appeared.
"Are they settled in?" he snapped, and immediately, 'Where is she?"
Beatrice gave him an old-fashioned look and indicated a door on the far right at the end of the corridor on the first floor.
"The poor child's exhausted." She murmured as he purposefully strode over to the door, ignoring her. Just the thought of her made him go hard. The little vixen had made the breakup with his newly-rejected lover a costly one.
He took a deep breath. He would make her pay.
***
He stopped short inside the room; Proserpina was lying curled up on the bed, fast asleep. Covered in a pale green bathrobe that had ridden up her legs and her long ebony hair spread out around her, she looked extremely young-too young to be a mother. Her fist was under her cheek, and he crossed to her side, watching her sleep. Her plump lips parted slightly.
She appeared more like a child as she lay, oblivious to the lasciviousness in the eyes of the man who stood over her, his large manhood rock hard and ready. The sight of her half-exposed breasts rising and falling as she slumbered made him breathe faster. With an unfamiliar urgency, he stripped off his jacket and shirt, tearing off his pants in his need to enter her and subjugate her. He stroked himself, the pre-cum glistening at the tip, as he imagined himself driving into her, pounding into her salty, sweet wetness.
She would pay.