Chapter 6: The Birthday

1. The Preparations

They were expecting guests to dinner that evening. He had meetings throughout the day, so she planned to take extra time and care on her preparations. It was his birthday and she had plans for their own party after the guests had gone. She had done some shopping in the morning and taken lunch on a tray in the morning room and it was time to check on the arrangements for the first party.

In the dining room, their own butler and a waiter brought in for the evening were putting the finishing touches to the table. The flowers were beautiful and she took great pleasure in surveying the silver and crystal laid out on the dark, shining wood. She checked with the butler that the staff would take the coats from guests and show them up to the drawing room. She told them they had made the room look wonderful and enjoyed the satisfaction the compliment had given.

The car was ready at two to take her to the salon where her hair, make-up, manicure and whole body treatment were all taken care of. All through the afternoon, she allowed herself to daydream about their own private late party. She sent him a text message, "Preparing for later - much later." She knew that he would understand her meaning and would smile his way through the remainder of the day.

When she returned home, there was a parcel on the hall table with a card from him. It read, "This might help with your preparations." Intrigued, she carried it upstairs to her bedroom. She put the parcel on the bed. Before opening it she crossed to an ornate Chinese cabinet and removed from a secret compartment a silver key on a piece of ribbon. She took it into her dressing room and placed it in a beautiful silver evening bag. She returned to open the box on her bed and laughed to herself as she saw what it contained.

Under the tissue paper was a boned corset of scarlet satin, decorated with scarlet and black bows. Next she pulled out a matching g-string, with tiny ribbon roses over the front triangle of fabric. As she pulled out some black seamed stockings, a red garter fell onto the bed to finish her collection. She walked through to the dressing room and placed the small bundle of softness on the table. She ran her hands over the fabrics and textures, remembering the feeling of satins and silks on her skin. A delicious shiver ran through her at the memory of past ecstasy - and ecstasy to come.

On the door of her wardrobe her maid had hung a long black dress, split to the knee at the back. A pair of black patent pencil heel shoes were sitting by the chair and her silver evening bag lay on the dressing table. Content that everything was ready, she went downstairs to have tea in the orangery. It was her favourite place to sit at this time of the afternoon, warm and calm, full of the scent of all kinds of exotic plants.

She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander back to their first days together. His tenderness and masculinity had overwhelmed her then and continued to do so now. Breaking into her dream, her phone rang.

"It's me, darling. I'm running a little late, but I promise I shall be home before any of the guests arrive." His familiar voice made a tingle pass through her.

"Thank you for my gift. A present for me - for you?"

"My thoughts entirely," he laughed. "See you very soon."

Having taken a last turn of the public rooms, she walked up the curved central staircase to her room. She passed through her bedroom and into the dressing room where Miss Roberts, her maid, was putting a lace handkerchief into her tiny silver bag.

"Good evening, My Lady. Which necklace would you like to wear this evening?"

"Oh, I think the ruby and diamond collar with the matching earrings. Thank you, Roberts."

She began to take off her day clothes, placing them on a low chair. By the time she had put on a wrap and turned back, the discarded clothes had disappeared as Roberts went efficiently about her work. Fortunate in so many ways, she realised how lucky she was to have Miss Roberts. Formerly maid to the old Countess, she had come to work in their house when the old lady died. Initially she had worried at the thought of the intimate service provided by a lady's maid, but she had gradually come to depend on this calm and experienced woman, so that now she was not in the least embarrassed as she allowed Roberts to help her dress.

She stepped into the g-string, then discarded the robe and allowed Roberts to fasten the long line of hooks on the corset. She turned to allow her maid to pull the lacing until it was comfortably tight. Sitting on the edge of the chair, she unrolled the stockings, keeping the seams straight as they unfolded. She fastened the satin suspenders, then pulled the garter over her foot, over her ankle, over her knee, until it lay on her thigh between her knee and the lace top of her stocking.

She examined the effect in a full length mirror. Roberts nodded her approval of the new garments and reached for a pot and brush from the dressing table. She loaded her brush expertly with the finest bronzing powder which contained the subtlest glimmer. Gently she brushed it over her shoulders and décolleté, then with a smile pronounced the result satisfactory.

Roberts helped her into the black dress and she stepped up into the very high heeled shoes. Sitting down at her dressing table, she allowed her maid to fasten the rubies around her neck and put the last touches to her hair. She put in her earrings, touched her pressure points with his favourite perfume then rose and picked up her evening bag.

"Will I do, Roberts?", she asked.

"Oh, I think you might, My Lady." her maid laughed. "I hope you have a wonderful party."

As she walked across the bedroom, she heard the sound of a car sweeping round the gravel drive. Looking down into the courtyard, she smiled to herself. He never let her down. He said he would be here in time and he had arrived before any of their guests. Picking up a gift wrapped package from the dresser, she hurried downstairs to meet her husband.

They had scarcely reached the drawing room when the first of the guests arrived, giving them no time to discuss his gift. A look passed between them to acknowledge what they planned for later.

"Rubies?" he said with a flash in his eye. Only he knew that they were intended to match what she wore beneath the black dress that was all the others would see.

2. The Waiting

"Ah the birthday boy and his beautiful wife!" bellowed Andrew as he entered the drawing room at the head of a party of six. Despite their having been married only last year, Andrew made no secret of the fact he found her attractive and never lost an opportunity to tell her husband of his feelings. "You don't deserve to have won a woman like this," he teased.

"And poor Annabelle doesn't deserve to have been saddled with an old goat like you!" her husband retorted. "I insist that you behave yourself at my birthday dinner."

"I'll see what I can do, old man," replied Andrew with a wink to his hostess.

Within the next quarter of an hour all twelve guests had arrived and there was a happy buzz of conversation amongst these old friends. By the time the butler announced dinner, their laughter rang round the house.

Settling at either end of the long dark wood table, they exchanged a warm smile. How it pleased her to see him relax and enjoy this special evening. The dinner was a credit to her cook and they sat a long time at table before they made their way back to the drawing room for coffee. Sitting in a high-backed armchair by the fire, the birthday boy opened the presents from his friends and professed himself a fortunate man indeed. She gave him her parcel, which contained a beautiful leather-bound first edition of a collection of love poetry and saw his eyes light up with pleasure at this lovely thing.

When the guests began to leave, she saw her husband say something quietly to the butler, who sent the footman off on some errand. The goodbyes said and the cars waved off, they walked arm in arm back into the great hall.

"I must go and thank Mrs Watson, darling," she said.

"We'll both go. Now that I finally have you to myself, I don't intend to let go of you."

They knocked on the kitchen door lightly then let themselves in. Mrs Watson, who was pouring herself some cocoa, turned to see who was invading her kitchen now.

"It's only us, Mrs Watson."

"Oh, My Lady, My Lord. I thought the agency waiter had come back," she said, a little flustered.

"We just wanted to say thank you for an absolutely wonderful dinner. You really did us proud tonight and all of our guests asked us to tell you you're a marvel."

"Well, it was a pleasure, My Lady. I hope you've had a lovely birthday, My Lord."

Her husband smiled broadly. "Oh yes, Mrs Watson, the best yet. Thank you very much."

They said goodnight and made their way back upstairs, through the great hall and up the central staircase. They stopped at the drawing room where the butler and footman were collecting coffee cups and settling the fire. They said a few words of thanks and continued on their upward journey, maintaining the dignity of an Earl and his Countess despite the burning lust they could both feel in every fibre.

As they arrived in their bedroom, she could hear Roberts moving around the dressing room. On most nights her maid was there ready to help her out of her gown and to put away her jewels and belongings before she retired. Smiling at her husband, she removed her hand from his and crossed the room to her dressing room door.

"Was it a good party, My Lady?" she asked as she approached her employer.

"Yes, thank you, Roberts. It was a lovely evening. I think His Lordship enjoyed his party very much." After a slight pause, she added "I won't be needing you again tonight."

There was not a hint of reaction in the older woman as she answered, "Very good, My Lady. If there is nothing else, I'll say good night." Nothing in their faces betrayed what they both knew, that other hands would undress her that night. She picked up her silver evening bag and returned to the bedroom.

3. The Party

She found her husband had taken off his dinner jacket and loosened his tie and he was taking a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket. It occurred to her that that was what he had been arranging with the butler. She found it exciting to know that the staff were aware of their intentions to end the evening with their own romantic celebration. But they could only guess at what that would involve.

They talked about the evening as he poured the champagne, teasing themselves by waiting a little longer before they began the game. A look between them signalled that the moment had come. She rose and crossed to the night table. Opening the drawer she took out a pile of small white cards. Laying them face up on the low table in front of the sofa where he sat, she sat back.

"Since it is your birthday, you may pick any of the cards you wish instead of dipping blindly into the pile."

He smiled broadly and without hesitation picked one on which a single word was printed, "Submit". He laid it down facing her.

"So be it," she said seriously, "I am yours to command."

He rose and took her hand, leading her across the room. He lifted a tapestry hanging to reveal a hidden door. Without exchanging a word, he held out his hand to her and she passed him the silver key, with which he opened the door. They passed down a stone walkway and through another door into a room as large as the bedroom they had just left. The whole room was draped in fabrics so that it resembled a huge tent. The bed which stood in the centre of the room was canopied and draped with semi-sheer fabrics and deep scarlet silk curtains. On one wall there were rich curtains, pulled back to reveal a large video screen. Low divans provided a seating and lounging area in one corner. Before them, on low tables, books lay open revealing titillating pictures and explicit stories. On the walls there were dozens of erotic pictures, many of which seemed to be oriental or Arabic in origin, and mirrors tilted to reflect the bed from every angle. Across the room, half hidden by a folding screen, there was an object resembling a birthing chair, something suspended from the ceiling which seemed somewhere between a swing and a hammock and several deep piles of cushions.