Chapter 6

My appointment with Mr Carruthers did not go well. I had no experience in dealing with accountants and no idea of what I actually wanted to do and, of course, I couldn't tell him exactly where the money was coming from. I hemmed and hawed like crazy as he got more and more suspicious. His smile, at first broad and welcoming at the prospect of a new client, gradually faded and his face expression became stonier and stonier as I stumbled through my half-thought-out explanation. Finally he stood and said, very firmly, that he was sorry but he didn't think he could help me. I was in despair as he ushered me out of the office, standing in the doorway to make sure I actually left. I stumbled down the stairs and into the street.

So caught up in my disappointment was I that I failed to pay attention to where I was going. I turned a corner blindly and walked straight into a woman hurrying in the other direction. Her handbag went one way, her briefcase the other. They both spilled open and the contents went flying and it was only by good fortune that she did not go flying also.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry," I cried.

After a moment of shocked disbelief, she crouched and began to frantically retrieve her things before they disappeared forever. Oddly, it was the papers from her briefcase she seemed most concerned about. For several minutes we both scrambled about until we had managed to retrieve everything important — at least she believed she had for she zipped the briefcase firmly shut and closed her handbag with a snap.

We stood and I was about to offer further apologies when two things hit me: she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen and she was the accountant we had spotted the other day. For a brief instant our eyes met.

"Yes!" Charles screamed in my head.

"I hope my clumsiness hasn't made you late for anything," I said. "To make amends, I insist you have dinner with me tonight. I'll pick you up at seven if you tell me where you live."

She smiled and my heart melted. "Make it seven thirty," she said, producing a card from her handing. God, even her voice was sexy.

"Why wait," Charles was practically panting. "Take her now."

"Shut up, Charles," I thought.

"Seven thirty it is."

I watched her walk away and I could swear she knew I was watching and put an extra wiggle in her walk.

"Right, Charles, we have two errands. I need a suit and we need a restaurant reservation."

In fact I acquired a whole new outfit and it didn't take much from Charles to persuade them that handing over £500 in cash was nothing out of the ordinary. I grabbed a cab to get to the restaurant I had in mind. I knew, under ordinary circumstances, I hadn't a hope in hell of getting a reservation but with assistance of Charles's and two £50 notes, I had a table for two at eight o'clock.

"Why did you give him the money?" Charles asked.

"Because it's expected. He'll believe he gave me the reservation because I bribed him so it'll seem quite natural."

"Hmmm," he sounded intrigued. "Can you do that everywhere?"

"No. I couldn't bribe that accountant, for example. At least not until we had established a working relationship. Then I could possibly give him a larger fee for doing something that was not quite in the rules."

"I shall have to think on this."

I had a bad case of the jitters as I showered and dressed. I knew Charles could have made me instantly clean and fresh but I needed the comfort of the ritual of showering, shaving and dressing to calm my frazzled nerves. It was all very well for Charles to tell me everything had been taken care of and why didn't I just bring her back here and forget about the stupid meal but he wasn't the one taking the most beautiful woman in the world out to dinner.

'Antonia Lockhart, BSc(Hons), A.C.A. and a number of other letters whose meaning I didn't know, her card read, with an address in a very salubrious part of town.

Antonia: she had had an Italian look about her — long, chestnut-brown hair, warm brown eyes, a proud nose, high cheekbones, generous mouth with full lips and a square jaw. It had been her face that captured my attention. What the rest of her looked like I couldn't remember; other than she was wearing a well-cut dark jacket and skirt and a very elegant pair of shoes. Well, my eyes had been at street level most of the time I had been with her.

But all these letters after her name: and that address. She was obviously a very senior accountant and moved in circles I couldn't dream of reaching even in my wildest fantasies. Yet I had invited her to dinner and she had accepted. What was I thinking of?

The cab pulled up and her flat and I almost chickened out. Taking deep breaths to try and calm my pounding heart, I pressed her doorbell. It opened almost immediately; she must have been waiting or heard the cab. She was as beautiful as I remembered. Her hair wasn't brown, it was a deep, glowing chestnut but all else was as I remembered. She was wearing a short dress of cream and a brown that was almost the same colour as her hair. A loose bodice, cut low enough to show some cleavage, and a full skirt which showed off her hips and drew attention to her long legs. Her shoes were the same colours as her dress.

"Well," she asked in an amused tone. "Do I pass muster?"

"Forgive me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I was making sure that, should I be snatched by aliens, I would have an image of you imprinted in my brain. You don't just pass muster, you look stunning." Not, perhaps, the best opening line but all I could come up with.

I offered my arm and escorted her down the stairs. I remembered to hand her both into and out of the cab. As we alighted at the restaurant, I saw her eyes widen in surprise. I was pleased as it meant I'd gone up in her estimation. We were led to our table and I managed to ensure that I seated her, not the waiter. The menus were, of course, written in that obscure double-speak so beloved of chefs and made even more unintelligible by being in French even though a number of the dishes were local.

"Have you been here before?" I asked as she studied the menu.

"Once or twice."

"Then I suppose it would be considered crass to order steak and chips."

She looked up in astonishment to find I was grinning.

She grinned back as she realised I was joking. "I suppose it might. I like the fish. It's supposed to be fresh."

The ice was broken.

"Would you prefer starter or sweet, or shall we go the whole hog?" I asked.

She laughed a throaty chuckle that set my nerves tingling. "As you're paying, the whole hog."

"I wonder how many dishes that adds up to," I said thoughtfully.

"Dishes?"

"That I'll have to wash to pay for this." That laugh again. I could easily get used to it. "Now I have a confession to make. I'm a wine philistine. Would you please choose whatever you think best."

She flashed me an odd look but happily made her recommendation.

"I want to apologise once again for knocking you down today. I hope I didn't make you too late for your appointment," I said once we had ordered.

"I was late already," she said a trifle ruefully. "That's why I was rushing." She reached across the table and touched the back of my hand. A jolt of electricity ran through me. "You really don't need to apologise. It was as much my fault as yours. If I hadn't been running late I would have fastened my briefcase properly and wouldn't have come charging round that corner."

I took her hand in mine. It was an elegant hand with long, tapering fingers and immaculately groomed nails. "I'm very glad you did, for it gave me the chance to invite you to dinner."

"Do you generally pick up women by knocking them down?" she asked teasingly.

"Oh, yes. And then I drag them by their beautiful chestnut hair back to my cave." She gave that throaty chuckle again. "Actually it was you who knocked me down."

"Oh?"

"Your beauty bowled me over the instant I set eyes on you," I said extravagantly.

"That was just plain corny."

"I know but that doesn't mean it's not true."

She coloured slightly and looked away. At that moment our starters arrived and we tucked in to the best meal I have ever had. Expensive the restaurant might have been but it justified every penny.

As we ate, our conversation was wide and varied. I found Antonia very easy to talk to and not at all intimidating as I had feared. She was a good talker with a sly sense of humour and an eye for the ridiculous. She was a keen observer of people and I found myself laughing at some of the thumbnail sketches she painted of her colleagues and clients. I deliberately didn't pump her about her personal details but still managed to find out that she was thirty, single, unattached and had worked for the same company since graduating. I was right in my assumption that she was several social leagues above me for she had attended a rather exclusive girls' school which she had enjoyed. Naturally I was rather cagey about my background and occupation and managed, I thought, to give the impression that I didn't do very much but that I visited an office every so often.

By the end of the meal I was more than half in love with her. Her face enchanted me. Her eyes and seemed to change with her mood from a light and sparkling almost hazel when she was amused to flat hard brown when she was angry. Her generous, expressive mouth with the full lower lip could change from a pout to a mischievous grin in the space of seconds. Her chestnut hair tumbled over her shoulders in soft waves and she had the rather endearing habit of briefly ducking her head and hiding behind the cascade whenever she said anything risqué. I was intoxicated, more with her than the wine, and felt distinctly light-headed when we left the restaurant.

I didn't give her a chance to comment when we alighted from the taxi outside my flat but hurried her up the stair. Her appreciation of the décor was more obvious than Debbie's and Harry's had been for she better appreciated its quality of style. I didn't give her the grand tour. In the hall, she turned to me and we were in each other's arms, our lips pressed tightly together, our tongues exploring each other's mouths. She pulled me fiercely to her and I could feel her breasts pressing against my chest. They were not the size of Debbie's by any means but they were clearly more than a handful nonetheless. Her strong fingers dug into my back. I held her shoulders, delighting in the softness of her skin and the play of muscle beneath. I worked my way down her back to cup her bottom and pull her against my hardness.

For a moment we stared deeply into each other's eyes then I led her to the bedroom. There didn't seem to be any need for words. I pulled her to me and she came willingly, pressing herself against me. I tilted her chin and brought my mouth down on hers. Her lips parted to accept my kiss; to meet my kiss and return it in full measure. My hands were on the small of her back, pressing her closely to me. I knew she could feel my hardness for she rubbed her stomach against it. Her arms circled my neck and pulled me down, deeper into the kiss. I ran my hands up and down her back; a strong back with good muscles. I bent so I could cup the cheeks of her bottom. They were good to hold, not too large, not too small with a soft elasticity that suggested she took regular exercise to combat the perils of a sedentary occupation.

In unspoken agreement, we stepped back and began to shed our clothes, maintaining eye contact as we did. I did not really pay much attention to her body, other to notice that it was as striking as I had imagined, my need was too great. I pushed her gently back until the back of her knees hit the bed and she fell back, her feet dangling over the edge. It leant over her and lowered my head to her breasts. As I had guessed they were large, not nearly as large as Debbie's but more than a good handful. They spread out over her chest with their dark brown areolae and nipples pointing skyward. I kissed around the base, up the deep, shallow valley between them and over the top. They felt nice; like her bottom, warm and softly resilient. I spiralled inwards and upwards towards her nipple, encouraged by her little gasps of pleasure and her fingers curled in my hair. I reached my goal and circled the stiff brown nipples with my tongue, stopping every now and then to tease them gently with my lips. Her gasps of pleasure now were louder, almost moans. I took a nipple between my teeth and bit gently before sucking it into my mouth. She jumped, then relaxed and pulled my head down upon her breast, arching her back to offer me more.

I crawled between her thighs and leant over her. She reached for my cock and, with a wicked smile, pulled it towards he cunt. For a moment I resisted, teasing her, but she tugged harder and I relented. I lowered myself slowly and she guided into her

"Charles," I thought, "make me the perfect size for her. In fact do that automatically from now on unless I tell you otherwise. Oh, and make me cum when she does."

I could feel rather than hear his sigh of exasperation but I felt the little tingle that I was becoming accustomed to and noticed her eyes widen a faction as she felt me expand slightly.

There was nothing fancy about out love-making. I half-lay on top of her, supporting my weight on my elbows and pistoned in and out of her. At first she lay with her legs spread wide, flexing her hips in time to my movements, her hand lightly clasping my upper arms. As her passion rose, her legs rose and curled around my waist and her fingers dug into my arms painfully. Her gaze turned inwards, her head began to roll from side to side and she began to breathe in short gasps. I increased my pace. Her heels dug into my bottom as she tried to lift herself off the bed to match my strokes. I could sense she was nearly there so increased my pace. She was not particularly vocal but as I pounded into her a little grunt was forced from her throat at every stroke. Suddenly her body relaxed and she began to tremble all over. Her internal muscles convulsed around my cock and she let out a long, keening sigh. That was my signal. With a few more frantic thrusts, I came, pumping my cum into her in large blasts.

Her legs slipped from around my waist and lay limply on the bed. She reached an arm around my neck and pulled me down, murmuring endearments as she stroked my hair. I was only too glad to relax into her embrace for, apart from the fact that her arms felt good around me, I was suffering from the strain of keeping myself propped up. I sighed contentedly and nuzzled her neck, savouring the soft texture of her hair, the scent of her perfume and the smell of her sweat. This was something I definitely wanted to feel more of.

Aware that my weight was probably squashing her, I rolled off and we lay side by side, enjoying this moment of post-coital satisfaction. Debbie and Harry had been great, a wild experience and one I looked forward to repeating but there was something about Antonia that felt special. I couldn't explain what it was but I knew that I wanted to see more of her. Even if she was way out of my league there was something about her that connected at the visceral level

She propped herself up on one elbow and regarded me broodingly.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening and some amazing sex," she began.

"But?" I said. "I heard a 'but' there."

She didn't smile but continued to regard me with a serious expression. Her frown made a small furrow between her eyes that I thought most attractive. "But there's something not quite right here."

My heart began to thump. "Oh? How so?" I tried to sound calm.

"Did you bump into me deliberately?"

"No, it was a complete accident. Honestly. But I'm very glad I did." That was no lie.

"You know, I couldn't focus this afternoon. It started me thinking. A man bumps into me and insists I have dinner with him. I'm not being rude but you're not the sort of person I would normally notice yet I find myself agreeing. Not only that but I find I'm as nervous as a schoolgirl on her first date.

"He takes me to the best restaurant in town where I know you have to book weeks in advance, oh, and he's wearing an expensive suit that looks brand new. He behaves as though money was no object yet it's obvious he's not used to it." I must have looked startled. "Just little things, nothing obvious. He takes me back to a run-down tenement where he has a flat that could have come from an up-market furniture showroom. Finally he screws the living daylights out of me so that, even now, I want more. It just doesn't add up. Who are you? What are you?"

I was busted. What did I do now? I could make up a story and say that I had inherited a lot of money and was still coming to terms with it but I sensed she would see through it sooner or later. Should I tell her the truth? Would she walk out and I'd never see her again? I didn't know if I could face that? I took my time sitting up before replying.

"Charles, what do I do?" I thought frantically.

"I don't know. Women aren't meant to be smart. It isn't natural."

"Why is it whenever I really need you, you let me down? Never mind. We don't have time right now."

I looked at her carefully. Could I really trust her? Should I tell her my story? How would she react? She shifted nervously under my gaze.

"Antonia, I think I'm going to trust you. When I finish, I'll call a cab and you can go home if you want. I won't want you to go but I won't do anything to prevent it. If you go I'll probably get over you eventually — sometime in the next fifty years — but I won't stop you."

"You're beginning to scare me."

"Come with me."

I pulled her out of bed and we padded through to the living room where I carefully removed the box from the cupboard and set it on the coffee table.

"My story starts just like this," I said. "That box on the coffee table. Look at it carefully but please don't touch it." I dug out the magnifying glass. "Use this."

She looked at me as if I was more than a bit mad.

"Please," I begged. "Trust me in this. You need to see what I saw."

She bent to examine the box and I couldn't help but admire the sleek lines of her back. 'I hope to God she accepts me, ' I thought.

"Amen to that," Charles said.

"Can I let her touch it?" I thought.

"Better not."

She spent a long time peering closely at the box through the magnifying glass. Her hair kept falling over her face and she absentmindedly pushed it back behind her ear. It was a most endearing trait.

Finally she straightened and looked at me with a strange expression on her face. "I've never seen anything like it. What is it?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I found it. Did you notice anything in particular?"

"It's got very strange markings on the lid."

"Yes, I think it's writing of some kind. There's something else that's important."