Tales of the Odalisque Read online

  “Are you familiar with the Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins?”

  As it happened, she was although she had certainly never expected to be discussing Biblical lessons under such circumstances. “Matthew: 25.”

  The abbess looked surprised. “Very good. Then you are aware that it is a wise virgin who comes to an encounter properly prepared.”

  “I beg your pardon but isn’t that story really a reference to spiritual rather than…earthly affairs?”

  A slim, perfectly manicured hand flicked dismissively. “It hardly matters. The clientele at our auctions values innocence for the usual reason anything is valued in this world, because it is rare. However, they are also accustomed to having their every whim catered to and their every desire fulfilled. You will learn to do that and more.”

  Out of simple curiosity, not because she expected to have any personal interest in the response, Natalia asked, “For how long?”

  “Immediately after the auction winning bids are placed in escrow. The contracts are valid for seventy-two hours thereafter. Clients tend to make full use of that time.”

  Reaching for her clothes, Natalia nodded. “I see…”

  Seventy-two hours fulfilling the sexual requirements of a self-indulgent rake who had paid--if rumor was to be believed--northward of a hundred thousand pounds sterling to thrust his cock into virgin cunt. Truly, a fool and his money were soon parted.

  The cost of putting up with such a lout seemed far too great to Natalia but then she could steal ten times that amount in jewels and other items of value in mere minutes. For less providentially skilled young women, she supposed that it might be worth the effort.

  “Leave those.”

  The abbess picked up a small bell and rang it. The maid re-appeared so swiftly that she could be assumed to have been waiting just on the other side of the door. That the visitor she had shown in a short time before was now nearly nude save for her stockings and high laced boots did not occasion the slightest surprise.

  “Brigid will show you to our medical office. Assuming the doctor is satisfied that all is as it should be, she will then take you to your quarters.”

  With her throat suddenly dry, Natalia did as she was told.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Lucius Belmont, owner of the Odalisque, stepped back from the other side of the mirror and considered what he had just seen. Objectively, Miss Natalia Bollinger--if that was her real name--was quite remarkably beautiful for all that she had truly atrocious taste in clothing.

  Slightly over average height for a woman, she was at once willowy slim and tantalizingly curved. Her features were exquisite--large, thickly fringed eyes of a color he had not yet been able to determine; a small, slightly pert nose; high cheekbones and a chin that hinted at a degree of stubbornness. Her pale skin appeared to be flawless over every inch of her delectable body. Her breasts were nothing short of stunning, a bit large for her frame but perfectly sized to be grasped in powerful hands, the pale pink nipples licked and sucked until they were transformed into berry red teats. The narrowness of her waist invited embrace even as it emphasized the enticing curve of her hips. As for her ass, those pert cheeks hinted at delights that few men of sophistication would resist. If all that weren’t enough, the gap between her thighs--atop long, exquisitely shapely legs--offered a glimpse of what promised to be a delectable cunt, denuded of all but a modest landing strip of silky hair, her nether lips shy and enticing.

  She would be a sensation on the auction stage. He’d be wise to consider putting her behind glass.

  Which begged the question, how on earth was she still a virgin? Assuming, of course, that she was. He would know soon enough.

  Adjusting his trousers over the significant erection she had unknowingly aroused, he reflected on what his attitude toward her might have been were he not aware that a certain “street waif” had been watching his club during the past week.

  To be fair, the disguise had been good and her technique was passable enough. She’d had training, of that he was certain. But what was her motive? Why go to such lengths if her only interest lay in auctioning off her alleged virginity?

  Still considering that, he returned through the basement passage that linked the two buildings and re-entered the Odalisque. At that hour, the club was quiet, the stages deserted, the private rooms empty, no one in evidence save a few cleaners still tidying up from the night before. In the kitchens, the usual bustle of preparations for the coming evening would be underway. Such was the excellence of the sound proofing and ventilation systems that no hint of such practical matters impinged on the club itself. There only fantasies were allowed to reign.

  Lucius settled in his office, his long legs clad in bespoke charcoal gray trousers stretched out under the antique desk that had belonged to Vice-Admiral Horatio Nelson, himself no stranger to the seductive beauty of women.

  Having removed the jacket perfectly tailored to the broad sweep of his shoulders, he rolled up the sleeves of his custom-made ivory linen shirt, baring tanned forearms rippling with muscle. Sunlight filtering through the high windows revealed shards of gold buried in the thick darkness of his hair. His features--the chiseled planes of his face, the straight blade of his nose and the whisper of sensuality in the fullness of his mouth--hinted at his ancestry in the turmoil of the Mediterranean where centuries of invaders had usurped the wombs of local women. Eyes more amber than brown flashed with intelligence. At twenty-eight, even sitting quietly at his desk, he projected an aura of authority more often seen among older men who had wielded power for decades. These days, such men tended to defer to him for reasons that went well beyond the secrets he possessed.

  His intent was to review plans for the launch of a new branch of the club, this one in Kuala Lumpur, but the persistent state of his erection proved distracting. He considered relieving himself of it but refused on principle to give into the effect that the enticing Miss Bollinger had on him.

  His patience was rewarded. Within the hour, the abbey’s newest postulant became just a bit less mysterious. The reports he received indicated that two things were certain about her: As improbable as it seemed, she was indeed a virgin--of the natural, not reconstructed variety, the difference being readily determined by the thorough medical examination she had just undergone.

  On the other hand, the initial check of her background raised red flags. Natalia Bollinger, age 21, supposedly born in Bournemouth and thereby a subject of the British Empire, had never gotten a parking ticket, paid a bill late, failed a class, visited France, been admitted to a hospital, watched on-line porn, been fired from a job, been tardy returning a library book, joined a political party or indeed shown the slightest hint of any human frailty.

  A life of such utter flawlessness might appear consistent with her virginity but experience had taught him that it simply wasn’t credible. Indeed, it had all the earmarks of a carefully crafted ‘legend’, an invented identity of the kind beloved by spymasters and swindlers alike. He should know since he had one himself.

  Apparently, Little Miss Innocence was hiding something.

  But not for long.

  Lucius sat back in his broad leather chair, pressed his lean, hard fingers together, and allowed himself a smile of purely wicked anticipation.

  Chapter Two

  Natalia was still blushing when she left the doctor and followed Brigid upstairs to the dormitory on the top floor of the abbey. Partly this was due to her offended modesty but the more general cause was entirely justified anger. The thought that any young women should endure such an invasive procedure merely to prove that a thin membrane in her body happened to be intact was deeply offensive.

  Truly, the world was a perverse place. But then she had already known that.

  Even so, she blamed him. He was the cause of it all--creator of the Odalisque with its odious virgin auctions, panderer to the worst impulses of the absurdly privileged, exploiter of less fortunate albeit stunningly attractive young women and men, and pe
rhaps the greatest sin of all, the reason why she had been forced to leave her aerie in Switzerland and venture into the bog of sin and seduction that was London.

  Too vividly, she remembered Naomi going on and on about Lucius Belmont, “Luscious Lucius” she had called him giddily--how astoundingly handsome he was, how wealthy and powerful, how rumor had it that he had stamina of a bull and the cock to match, a veritable sex god who bestrode the sensual world.

  Her beautiful, exuberant half-sister had always seen that world as an endless buffet laid out for her enjoyment. The last time Natalia had heard from her, Naomi was in London, intending to apply for a job at the Odalisque. That had been six months ago. Since then nothing. Her elder sibling and only remaining family had dropped off the face of the earth. To date, Natalia’s increasingly frantic efforts to find her had gone for nothing.

  She was left with no choice but to use all her considerable skills to penetrate the layers of security surrounding the world’s most notorious sex club and its master. Even if that meant pretending that she was willing to sell her rather tiresome virginity to some degenerate billionaire who likely couldn’t manage an erection without a fistful of pills and the help of a crane.

  If she discovered that Naomi had come to harm because of Lucius Belmont--

  Thanks to her interest in martial arts--prudent given the occasional need to escape sticky situations inevitable in her occupation--she knew one hundred and twelve ways to kill a man, thirty-seven of them excruciatingly painful, eight requiring nothing more than a hair pin. Naomi had best be alive and well or the world was going to be short one sex god.

  “Put this on,” Brigid said.

  Dragged back to more immediate concerns, Natalia stared at the shimmering brown robe the maid was holding out for her.

  Her valise was on the floor nearby and the suit she had worn hung neatly in a small wardrobe. But apparently she was not to make use of her own belongings. Not that it mattered. The small cache containing clothing, travel documents, everything she would require once she had what she had come to find and made her escape was secured scarcely two blocks from the abbey.

  “What is that?” she asked, looking at the garment with unconcealed distaste.

  “Didn’t the abbess explain, Miss? You’re a postulant to start with. That’s what they wear.”

  The old suit she had found in a second hand shop in Berne had been unpleasantly scratchy. The robe was anything but. Sliding over her naked skin, it sent a shiver of pleasure through her. Privately, she had a great weakness for sensuous clothing; one that she didn’t hesitate to indulge when she wasn’t working.

  Adjusting the robe into place, Natalia asked, “Where are the others?”

  Twelve beds were arranged in two neat rows. Eight had personal items on the tables beside them. From that she concluded that she was the ninth virgin.

  “They’re in class,” Brigid said and promptly put a hand over her mouth in a futile effort to stifle her giggle. “Oh, lord, Miss, what goes on there. I don’t see the half of it but my boyfriend’s right glad of what I do pick up on.”

  “I…can imagine,” Natalia said. She couldn’t actually except in the most theoretical sense but that was of no matter. She didn’t intend to be around long enough to pick up on anything.

  At the same time, she couldn’t help noticing that some of the beds had been pushed together.

  Following the direction of her gaze, Brigid said, “Their studies--learning how to please the most exacting gentlemen--leave them a bit pent up, Miss, if you know what I mean. I hope you won’t be disturbed by some of the goings on at night?”

  Natalia fought a blush and lost. “Of course not.”

  “Right then. It’s almost time for luncheon. If you’d care to put your things away and come downstairs, you can meet the others.”

  That was an unexpected stroke of luck. Left alone on the top floor of the abbey, there was a great deal she could accomplish in very little time.

  She waited until Brigid’s bobbing head vanished down the stairs, then raced to open her valise. From the hidden bottom, she removed what she needed and sped back into the hall. The ceiling there contained a large skylight. Unfortunately, to reach it she would have to stand on a table or some other piece of furniture. She had learned at her father’s knee that the first rule of illegal egress was to leave no evidence of one’s comings and goings.

  Her attention turned to the window at the end of the hall overlooking the street. It was far from ideal, raising the possibility that she could be spotted by a random passerby. However, with the neighborhood so quiet, Natalia judged the risk worth taking. Especially if it enabled her to learn the details of her sister’s contact with Lucius Belmont and depart the abbey before she had to suffer any further indignities.

  With her hands protected by her favorite pair of climbing gloves, she slipped out the window and used the stone cornice above it to scramble upward. Once having attained the roof, she moved quickly until she stood just at the gap separating it from the building housing the Odalisque.

  Up close, the six feet difference in the height of the roofs inevitably appeared more formidable than it had from the street. And then there was also the three feet of empty space to be surmounted.

  Natalia stepped back, gathered the rope with its attached grappling hook that she had removed from the false bottom of her valise and spun it up expertly. Never taking her eye from the spot on the Odalisque roof that she was aiming for, she gauged the moment when speed and angle were perfectly aligned and flung the hook upward.

  It landed precisely where she had intended, catching hold of the stone lintel that ran along the edge of the roof. Pulling the rope taut, she was satisfied that the grip was sufficiently firm. With agility born from the fortuitous combination of natural talent and long practice, she swung out into the space between the buildings and began to climb.

  She was within a few feet of the Odalisque’s roof when a sudden shower of small stone fragments raining down on her signaled that all was not well. So close to her objective, everything in her cried out to continue. For a few moments, she tried to do so but the steadily worsening fall of crumbled stone forced her to accept that her desire and nature’s intent were no longer in agreement.

  With the greatest reluctance, she reversed course and began shimmying down the rope. Six feet from the bottom of the narrow alley, the stone ledge gave way and the grappling hook broke free. Natalia fell.

  Chapter Three

  The fall knocked Natalia’s breath from her and left her momentarily dazed. For a moment she lay staring up at the sliver of sky visible above the alley. A raven had alit on the shattered ledge. It peered down at her and cawed loudly.

  Thus reminded of her perilous situation, she staggered to her feet. Discovered in the alley with the telltale rope and grappling hook on the ground beside her, there would be no disguising her purpose. She would be fortunate indeed to be merely turned over to the authorities. It was entirely possible that she might disappear--as Naomi had done--from the sinister domain of the sex god.

  With that in mind, she peeled off her gloves, seized the evidence of her ill-fated attempt, and deposited everything--with a pang of regret for the gloves--in a rubbish bin around the corner. She then made her way quickly along the alley as far as the walled garden behind the abbey.

  As she had hoped, a gate connected the garden to the outer world. Regrettably, it was locked. That left only one option.

  She was half-way over the wall, perched on the very top with her legs straddling both sides, when French doors at the back of the abbey opened and a bevy of young women in white robes spilled out into the garden. Belatedly, Natalia noticed the long wrought iron table set for an al fresco lunch. The abbess was with them, as was Brigid and several other servants.

  All stared at her in astonishment.

  After what seemed a lengthy interval but in reality was no more than a moment or two, the abbess called out, “Are you coming or going, Miss Bollinger?
”

  Natalia dropped to the ground inside the garden, straightened her postulant’s robe as best she could and said, “I just stepped out for a smoke. After the doctor, I needed one.”

  Several of the young women tittered. The abbess raised a brow.

  “Did you? Smoking is a nasty habit.”

  “I’m trying to quit.”

  “I’m so glad. And yet I have a clear memory of telling you that you were not to leave the abbey for any reason. Am I mistaken in that?”

  A whiff of fresh baked bread wafted by Natalia. Her stomach growled. Preparations for her assault on the Odalisque and on Lucius Belmont in particular had kept her sufficiently occupied of late that meals had become catch-as-catch-can. A bit of spotted dick here, a mouthful of bubble and squeak there, the occasional coddled egg. She couldn’t remember when she’d eaten last.

  “I do seem to recall you saying that, ma’am.”

  “And did I not also make it clear that obedience is expected at all times?”

  “I also remember something to that effect.”

  The abbess sighed. “In that case, Miss Bollinger, you have a choice. You may leave now with no hard feelings on our part nor, I hope, on yours. Or you can stay and accept proper punishment for your transgression.”

  Under no circumstances was she leaving. At most, she had suffered a small set-back. And besides, how bad could the punishment be for merely straying outside the Abbey for a brief time?

  Head high, she said, “I will stay.”

  “Very well. Kindly return to your quarters and remain there until you are summoned.”

  What, no lunch? That really was a shame considering the array of dishes she just then noticed were spread out over the table--various salads, platters of fresh fruit, quivering little aspic jellies, thick finger sandwiches and meringues! She loved meringues.

  Her stomach growled again. She ignored it and for one of the very few times in her independent and occasionally reckless life, did as she was told.