Cruel Venus Read online

  Moments after he exploded inside her, he could feel himself hardening again. Knowing it, she got to her feet and led him to the back of the bus. Pushing him down on the seat she sat astride him, taking him into her fast and starting to move with electrifying vigour, her breasts quivering and bouncing, her black eyes watching him closely. He looked back, feeling the slap of her buttocks on his thighs, and making her pant and groan as his fingers slid between her legs. Her small, chubby hands gripped her breasts and he ducked his mouth to the solid dark red buds of her nipples, sucking them tightly and cruelly until their bodies were thrown into the tumultuous sensations of climax, engulfed by the chaotic throb of exhausting release.

  In all his life he had never known a woman like this. A woman who was no more than a girl, whom he’d taught to fuck like the most experienced whore, and who was now as consumed by him as he was by her.

  ‘Don’t tell me, you’ve got to go!’ She pouted as he gently withdrew.

  He looked at his watch. ‘I’m due at the station in ten minutes.’

  She climbed off his lap and sat beside him, crossing her legs on the seat and entwining her hand in his. ‘How did Allyson react to the paper?’ she asked.

  He looked at her and wondered what she was really thinking, for everyone knew how devoted she was to Allyson, the heroine who had plucked her from some Allyson-imagined hell and was now turning her into a rising star. It hadn’t stopped her falling for Allyson’s husband though, had it? Nor had it stopped Allyson’s husband falling for her. If anything Allyson’s husband was out of his mind with lust, maybe even love for the girl, and was fast losing the struggle to keep it in check, for why else would he be here, so close to home, where anyone might discover them, if he wasn’t having a problem with control?

  ‘How did she take it?’ he repeated. ‘I’m not sure. She was prepared to believe it.’

  ‘But you told her it wasn’t true.’ Her big eyes looked up at his, her kiss-reddened lips were apart and inviting.

  Unable to stop himself he kissed them, for a long and deliciously arousing time. ‘I sidestepped it,’ he said finally.

  ‘But you’re going to tell her?’

  A stab of guilt penetrated his chest, stopping his breath. He looked away. But unable to keep his eyes from her, he looked at her again. Yes, he’d tell Allyson if he was forced to, he’d tell her everything in all its crazed and obsessive glory, all its inexorable, brainwashing might, if it was the only way he got to keep this girl.

  Tessa’s eyes went down. His own fell to her breasts and watched them rising and falling in the labouring heaviness of her breath. How could he stop himself touching them? They were so heavy and soft and unbelievably responsive, like Tessa herself, who never stopped him whatever he wanted to do.

  ‘I don’t think you should tell her,’ she whispered, watching his hands as he caressed her.

  He was surprised, and relieved. ‘I thought it was what you wanted,’ he said.

  ‘What I want is you,’ she cried earnestly. ‘Not to hurt Ally. I really like her. A part of me actually loves her, you know, like a sister or something. She gave me my job. She really trusts me.’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘God, I hate doing this to her. I hate you for making me.’

  ‘Hey, no-one’s making you,’ he said gently. ‘Remember it was your idea to drive down last night and stay in a hotel. Your idea for us to meet here, before I go to the station.’

  ‘You don’t get what I’m saying,’ she protested. ‘I mean, you make me because I can’t resist you. Because there’s something in me that has to do whatever you want me to do. I feel like a slave to the need you’ve created inside me.’ Her voice lost its passion. She was suddenly very young and confused. ‘It’s weird. I’ve never felt anything like it before.’

  Two tears trickled down her cheeks. He caught them with his fingers, and touched them to her breasts.

  ‘You frighten me,’ she whispered.

  ‘Sssh,’ he soothed.

  ‘Do you love me?’ Her lashes were wet, her lips were moist and tempting beyond endurance.

  He kissed her softly. His passion for her was right there, burning in his fingertips, on his tongue, in his eyes, in his loins. It dominated his senses, consumed his mind. ‘You know I do,’ he said.

  ‘But what about Ally? She’s your wife! The whole world knows how much you love her.’

  ‘Ally is Ally,’ he replied. He didn’t want to think about her now, he didn’t want her to spoil a single moment of this precious, stolen time.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  He tilted her mouth up to his and kissed her. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you back to your car,’ he said.

  Her Beetle was parked further down the track. They walked hand in hand, her head leaning against his shoulder, her coat wrapped warmly around her naked body. In the misty bands of sunlight, streaming through the golden, leafy trees, they looked like ghosts passing through a timeless glade of sparkling autumnal beauty.

  ‘What’s going to happen?’ she said, stopping to look up at him as they reached her car.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he answered. He leaned forward and kissed her lingeringly.

  ‘I’ll drive straight to the house,’ she said, ‘as though I’ve come from London. See you there?’

  ‘We’re meeting at the pub,’ he told her. Then looking anxiously into her eyes he said, ’This afternoon’s going to be tough, for us both. Do you think you can handle it?’

  ‘It’ll be tough for Ally too, after the papers.’

  He glanced away for a moment, looking back along the hazy, glistening track as though he were looking back at his life. Allyson, his wife, the only woman he had truly loved – until now. How could he do this to her? What the hell was he thinking?

  He turned back to Tessa, then putting a hand behind her head he pulled her mouth hard against his, defiance and anger pushing aside the savage onslaught of guilt.

  Chapter Two

  THE BELL OVER the pub door clanged as Allyson walked in, a mobile phone pressed to one ear, and a heavy bag weighing down her shoulder. She was wearing tight black jeans, snug little ankle boots and a thick cable-knit sweater that seemed to engulf her. Her sleek blonde hair was swept casually to one side, her neat, attractive features were lightly made up and currently drawn in a frown. ‘Can’t you just tell her to go to hell?’ she grumbled, giving a quick wave to Ron, the landlord, as he ducked into the kitchen to investigate a loud crash.

  At the other end of the line Shelley sighed. ‘Wouldn’t I love to,’ she replied. ‘But I’ll have to go and find out what the old witch wants.’

  Allyson knew that their illustrious old cow of a programme controller, Stella Cornbright, was unlikely to be summoning Shelley to her home on a Sunday afternoon for tea. So, whatever it was it had to be serious. She glanced around the pub. It was still early. There were only a couple of locals, over in the corner playing darts, out of earshot. ‘Do you think it’s got something to do with what was in the paper this morning?’ she asked, keeping her voice low as she dumped her bag on a tapestry-covered stool and sat down on a comfy bench seat.

  ‘No,’ Shelley answered, her tone indicating that she’d been expecting the question. ‘If it were, it would be you she was demanding to see, not me.’

  Allyson waited.

  Shelley said no more.

  ‘Is that it?’ Allyson said tightly. ‘You obviously know what I’m talking about, so don’t you have something to say?’

  ‘Not right now,’ Shelley answered. ‘But I don’t mind listening to what you’ve got to say.’

  Allyson gave an incredulous laugh. ‘You’re making it sound as though I have to excuse myself, or something,’ she cried.

  ‘I should think that was the last thing you had to do,’ Shelley replied. ‘What did Bob say?’

  ‘Not much. Except that Dan Jacobs probably lives in the same building as Tessa. If not, the same street.’

  ‘How very convenient.’

  Allyson�
�s face darkened as her heart thudded an extra beat. ‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that. Don’t you believe him?’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’

  ‘Only you know the answer to that.’

  Allyson was so thrown by the turn the conversation was taking that she decided to drop it, at least for now. ‘So, did Stella give you any idea what she wanted to talk about?’ she said, turning to look out of the window.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh God, looks like Tessa’s car just pulled into the car park. She must have driven down.’ Then, ‘I thought she was getting the train.’ Her mind had gone from nought to sixty in less than a second and the conclusion was turning her cold.

  ‘Bet you’re looking forward to seeing her,’ Shelley remarked dryly.

  Allyson couldn’t help smiling, for she could easily imagine the droll expression on Shelley’s beautiful face. ‘Even more than you’re looking forward to seeing Stella,’ she responded.

  ‘Are you going to fire her?’

  Allyson laughed. ‘Who, Tessa? Not today,’ she answered. ‘I need to keep a perspective on this, because there’s a huge chance the News of the World have got it wrong. You know what they’re like. Anyway, I’m not sure I’ve got the power to fire her, have I? So it might be you I’ll be coming to for that. Or Stella.’

  ‘Stella,’ Shelley answered. ‘We can hire, but Stella fires. I’m calling the Monday meeting for twelve tomorrow, by the way. Edmund and Debbie are on the early morning shuttle from Glasgow, they’ll need some time to get their acts together before we get under way. We should be a full team tomorrow. A rarity. Are you driving back to London tonight?’

  ‘Not if the meeting’s at twelve. I’ll stay down an extra night. Oh shit, I wish you were going to be here. This thing has really thrown me. And here comes Soirée’s answer to Christina Ricci, looking like she’s just been screwed all the way to senselessness and back.’

  ‘Goodness me, that can’t be darling, brilliant, got-to-be-rescued little Tessa you’re talking about, can it?’ Shelley teased. ‘And she always looks like that, which accounts for the high visibility of all the male tongues in the office. God, she makes me feel old. I could forgive her for a lot, but definitely not that.’

  Tessa was hovering uncertainly, and because Allyson was still laughing at what Shelley had just said it was easy to smile as she waved the girl over. ‘Give me a call later and let me know what it’s all about,’ she said to Shelley.

  ‘I take it you mean Stella,’ Shelley responded. ‘Sure, if I have time. I’m out for dinner tonight, with David Billington and a couple of his clients.’

  ‘Sounds like fun. Give him my love.’

  Allyson put away her phone and forced another smile as she looked at Tessa. God, this was difficult. What was she supposed to say to a girl who was rumoured to be having an affair with her husband? A girl who she happened to be inordinately fond of, and about whom she had always felt very protective? In fact she’d probably grown a little too close to Tessa, and knew that Tessa was very attached to her too, which was why it just wasn’t conceivable that Tessa would betray her this way. The poor girl was looking so terrified right now that there was simply no way that menace of a newspaper could be right.

  ‘So how does it feel to be famous?’ she said, making an attempt at levity.

  Tessa’s youthful dark eyes were dimmed by nerves as she put her coat on a chair and sat down. ‘Given the choice, I wouldn’t have gone for it this way,’ she replied, trying to match Allyson’s wryness.

  Allyson laughed. ‘No, I would have preferred you to take another route,’ she said, ‘but it’s done now, so we’ll just have to wait for the fuss to die down, then put it all behind us.’

  Tessa’s eyes were disconcerting in their frank, searching efforts to gauge what Allyson was really thinking, and not enjoying being probed quite so deeply, Allyson reached over for her bag to take out her purse. ‘My parents want Bob to sue for libel,’ she said, without really knowing why.

  Tessa seemed to flinch. ‘Can he do that?’

  ‘I’m not sure, I haven’t given it much thought. But yes, I guess he can, if it’s not true.’

  ‘Oh it’s not,’ Tessa assured her.

  Allyson smiled warmly, and could have hugged her for sounding so convincing. ‘What’ll you have to drink?’ she said.

  ‘Whatever you’re having.’

  ‘Ron,’ Allyson said, as the thickly bearded landlord re-emerged from the kitchen. ‘Come and meet my assistant, Tessa Dukes.’

  Ron’s small, watery eyes rounded with amazement, leaving Allyson in no doubt which Sunday tabloid the paper boy tossed over his garden gate. ‘Your …?’ He looked at Tessa and his normally florid complexion deepened to scarlet. ‘Tessa,’ he said, pronouncing it Tesser. ‘Nice to meet you. Heard a lot about you. From Allyson, like. Says how good you are at your job.’ He glanced at Allyson, as though seeking assurance that it was all right to say that.

  Allyson’s expression was friendly.

  Ron looked at Tessa again. Tessa was smiling, shyly, the way she always did with strangers, especially men, and Allyson watched the cordiality of Ron’s smile start yielding to a bemusing haze of unexpected attraction. The girl certainly had a way with men, there was no doubt about that, and the fact she seemed not to know it was probably what made it so potent. Her appeal was very definitely of the Lolita variety, for there she sat, looking no more than sixteen, skirt barely covering her buttocks, boots tugged up over her knees, and the exposed, cold-mottled flesh of her thighs looking as succulent as cake. And as for the big braless breasts that were amply evident beneath her tight-fitting light blue sweater, and the lips that looked permanently ravished, it was enough to make Allyson want to stuff the girl in a sack and smuggle her swiftly out of sight. Startled, Allyson pulled herself up sharply. She’d never looked at Tessa that way before, but there again Tessa hadn’t been coupled in a scandal with Allyson’s husband before.

  ‘We’ll have two lagers and lime,’ Allyson said to Ron. ‘I’m reckoning on us being around fourteen for lunch.’

  ‘Roast beef today,’ Ron told her, dragging his eyes from Tessa. ‘Got some nice fresh runner beans off John Turner up at the farm. Wanda says she’s going to doing something fancy with ‘em.’

  ‘Roast potatoes?’

  ‘‘Course. Wouldn’t be a Sunday dinner without roasters, would it? Got some nice colly and a bit of cabbage too. And Wanda’s doing her home-baked apple crumble and ice cream for pudding. Says Bob called her up and asked special.’

  Allyson laughed. ‘She spoils him.’

  ‘Well, it’s a bit of a favourite with everyone round here,’ he said. ‘Hope you’re going to have some, young lady,’ he said to Tessa. ‘Can’t be doing with all you London types who won’t eat a square meal.’

  ‘Oh, I can’t pass up on Wanda’s legendary crumble,’ Tessa responded, peering at him bravely from under her lashes.

  Allyson’s smile lost some warmth. How did she know the crumble was legendary? Who, except Bob, could have told her? No! No! She’d just said it to be polite.

  The pub door opened and a few more locals came in. Allyson wasn’t sure she wanted to go on introducing Tessa and watching the reactions, for those who didn’t get that particular paper would certainly have been informed by those who did, and Ron would no doubt find a way of letting everyone know that the ‘Secret Love’ was actually sitting at a table over there with Allyson.

  Allyson got up to greet her neighbours and ask after their families, the way she usually did. She knew she was being rude not introducing Tessa, but bless the girl, she seemed to sense the awkwardness so was making herself busy fetching the drinks from the bar. A couple of the newcomers threw astonished looks in her direction, probably drawn to the jostling breasts under the tight blue sweater, for they’d be something of a treat in this wintry outback where the desire to be warm triumphed every time over style.

  Then Bob arrived from the
station with a busload of celebrities and the small, oak-beamed bar was soon full to overflowing. Allyson watched him as he ordered pints and vodka martinis for their party, then swung behind the counter to mix the martinis himself, while Ron and his two barmen mastered the pumps. Allyson’s first martini slipped down so fast that her head started whirling, but the second seemed to steady her up and got her joining in with the loud and lively chat that was erupting all around her. Wanda and her waitresses bustled in and out of the tables, taking orders and delivering mouth-watering lunches, Wanda’s high heels tapping on the flagstones and her newly permed hair frizzing in the heat of the kitchen. There was a roar of laughter as Wanda treated Bob to a cheeky pinch on the bottom, and the old lady almost disintegrated with delight when he put his arms around her and smacked a kiss on her age-puckered lips.

  Later, after downing her second martini, or was it her third, Allyson got involved in a rowdy game of darts with two of the footballers and a young couple who’d just taken out a giant mortgage on a draughty little cottage at the end of the street. Bob, she noticed, was engaged in some hot dispute with the farmer, Jack Turner, and Reg Singer who ran the village shop and post office. Tessa was glowing and blushing as she listened to the hilariously tall tales being bandied about by a noisy group of locals and Londoners, where the men involved appeared as keen to make her laugh as they were to ogle the blue sweater. Allyson hiccuped through another urge to go and cover the girl up, but it was soon vanquished, for though her sight was a bit blurry, and her perspective was temporarily askew, she was managing to hang onto the assertion that she was responding irrationally, and that Tessa had every right to show off how lovely she was. But even through the vodka she could sense how alive her doubt still was, and it seemed that not even Bob’s apparent lack of interest was managing to uproot it. Nor were the martinis managing to drown it.