‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Last time I checked.’
‘I thought she was your mother.’ I flushed, remembering her reaction. Why could I not have thought before opening my mouth? Dear God, no wonder he’s not interested in me.
‘Ah,’ he said, ushering me into another corridor, at right angles with the first and carpeted in red. ‘I thought I detected a certain degree of friction. Ronnie’s not usually so…’ He paused, as if searching for the right words. ‘…hostile to my guests.’
‘Well,’ I said, feeling indignant suddenly. ‘You must have a very easy-going relationship, that’s all I can say.’
‘She gets what she wants out of it,’ he said. ‘It’s not what you think. Ronnie and I…well…I’ll explain some other time and, in a way, she is my mother.’
He turned to look at me, and I just looked back, uncomprehending.
‘Let’s just say,’ he said, stopping at a door and opening it. ‘If you knew my parents, you’d understand.’
He stood back to let me in and switched on the light. It was an office, wood-panelled like the corridor, with a few chairs, an oak desk and a computer. The windows were covered with thick velvet drapes. Bizarrely, there was another large curtain on the wall near the computer. It must have been about three feet long, stopping at my waist, and I wondered if the shock had thrown my geography off. I’d been sure there was another room there, which meant it must be an internal window, but why would anyone want a window looking into another room?
‘Sit down,’ he said, indicating one of the chairs.
I sat down, putting my hands in my lap again. This wasn’t going as expected, at all, not that I’d known what to expect. Whatever I’d been imagining, this hadn’t even figured.
‘So, you know why you’re here, don’t you?’ He sat in the chair by the computer and looked at me in that searching way he had. He seemed less sure of himself than usual, almost as if being in this location had somehow sapped him of some of his character.
‘I…I think so.’
‘You want to take back your fantasies.’ He shrugged. ‘Your words, not mine, Miss Anderton.’
‘I…suppose so.’
As I sat there, I suddenly became aware of noises from out in the corridor. It was the sound of people – a lot of people – passing by. Judging by the tones of the voices, it was mainly men, but also some women.
‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ he said quickly. ‘It’s never too late.’
‘No, I…’
‘I get the feeling you’re less sure of yourself now that it’s a possibility,’ he said, standing up. ‘Come on, let’s get you home.’
‘No,’ I said, hearing the firmness stamped into the word myself. ‘I’m sorry. I just thought it’d be less…well…clinical than this.’
‘What did you think it’d be, then?’ He paced around the room. ‘This is the business end, Miss Anderton. We need to discuss terms and requirements. When a film’s made, the production company don’t turn up in pirate costumes, swashing their buckles.’
He stopped and looked down at me. I looked back up at him to find him smiling.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where that came from. Swashing their buckles.’ He gave a self-conscious laugh, before sitting down again. ‘What I’m trying to say is that we need to establish what it is you want exactly. I can’t judge how best to realise your fantasy, if I don’t know what your fantasy is.’
I looked at him in horror. He couldn’t be expecting me to say aloud, to a man I barely knew, my deepest, darkest secrets. Surely not?
He regarded me coolly, before standing up again.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘What about if I show you some other people’s fantasies? Would that be helpful?’
I stared at him again, feeling overwhelmed. Finally, I nodded.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’
Thirty Two
Her
He took me out into the corridor. The doors beyond where we’d passed previously all had the same velvet drapes across what looked to be small windows in them. Several men in sober black suits were now on patrol, I noticed, flushing as I realised they must know why I was there. I was feeling more embarrassed by the moment, Nathaniel’s presence, so close to me, only serving to heighten my self-consciousness further.
The men ignored me, though, and only paced up and down the corridor, occasionally pausing to pull back one of the curtains before moving on, evidently satisfied with what they’d seen.
‘Come, Miss Anderton,’ he said, and held out his hand.
I took it, and let him guide me down the corridor. His hand was cool in mine, and strong, leading me onwards determinedly. I could feel my heart racing in my ribcage, but it was more from nerves than from anticipation.
‘We’ll start at the other end,’ he said, as if it were all in a day’s work to him – which, I realised suddenly, it probably was. ‘These rooms have been busy for an hour or so already.’
He led me to the furthest door and pulled back the drape. I hesitated. I had no idea what I was going to see, and this whole scenario was putting me on edge.
Through it, I could see a man kneeling on the floor. He was naked and hairy, his head entirely covered in a leather mask. He had his face pushed into the carpet and, above him, another man stood, his stiletto heel dug sharply into the prone man’s back.
I pulled back, embarrassed at my role of voyeur, and looked at Nathaniel.
‘Not to your taste?’ he said, clearly trying to hide a smile.
I shook my head.
‘We cater to all tastes here.’ He gave a shrug and let the curtain drop. ‘That man on the floor is a prominent name in the world of sports. He’s already been mugged once, in pursuit of that fantasy. Fortunately, Ronnie caught him before he did himself – and his career – any lasting damage. Discretion, Miss Anderton. Here, he can indulge his fetish in safety.’
He walked over to another door and casually pulled back the drape.
‘This woman,’ he said. ‘Fantasises about men worshipping her feet.’
I peered through the curtain, hardly wanting to look. Inside the room, a woman stood naked. She was middle-aged and slightly overweight. On the carpet around her, a group of men were on their knees, licking and sucking at her calves and ankles. As I watched, one of them lay down flat on the floor and ran his tongue over her toes.
I pulled back again, feeling slightly sick.
‘What’s the matter?’ Nathaniel sounded amused. ‘Are feet a turn-off?’
I nodded, flushing. None of this was anything like my fantasy. It hadn’t ever really occurred to me that people got off on these kinds of things, and I was starting to worry. Did he really understand me so little?
He didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. He merely let the curtain drop again. ‘So now we’re getting somewhere,’ he said, with a wry smile. ‘No feet.’
As we made our way back up the corridor, he pulled back more curtains. Some he didn’t invite me to look into, others he did.
‘Now, this one,’ he said, stopping at a window almost back at the office. ‘Dreams of being forced to…well…a picture tells a thousand words, Miss Anderton.’ And he stood back, holding the curtain open.
Inside the room, a woman was on her knees on the carpet. She was naked again and, like the other, middle-aged but, this time, thin – all muscle and bone. Around her a group of men clustered, their backs to her and bent over. From what I could see, she was licking their asses, moving from one to another, thrusting her tongue deep inside the cracks of their cheeks.
I stepped back.
‘No asses, then.’ Nathaniel was trying not to laugh, I could tell. ‘Believe it or not, her husband got so fed up with her, he sent her to me himself.’
I laughed a little myself, but it was a shaky laugh. I was starting to think I should just go.
‘I fear I’m being a little unkind,’ he said, leading me back into the office. ‘And yes, I have been teasing you to some extent, but I was making a point. Your fantasies aren’t you. Everyone has them, and they’re nothing to be ashamed of, bizarre though some of them might seem. In fact, compared to some of our guests, I suspect yours will turn out to be quite…run-of-the-mill.’