Eighty One - Laura's Story Pt. 05

18

Back in the real world of work and normal people, Laura's weekend adventure acquired the characteristics of a dream. Whilst trying to convince an open mouthed Abbie that it did indeed take place she cast her mind back to try and recall the rapidly fading detail of her experience. When that tiny part of her mind tried to convince her that it was indeed all fantasy and wishful thinking, her bruised backside was there to confirm the reality. She liked to think of the bruises as some sort of trophy and wore them with pride. The frustration of again failing to secure a chess piece took second place to the pleasure she took from knowing that she had Andrews full approval to continue.

The ping from her computer alerted her to the arrival of a new email. Graham Weston. She dreaded opening it for fear of having to read a deluge of gloating once he had heard about her failure to secure the pawn at the weekend. She was mistaken. The message was short: 'You might enjoy visiting an exhibition.'

It was already mid morning, so Laura took a break from working on the Simpson's presentation. As she often had since the game began, she sat in front of her computer, cup of tea to hand, and gave Google a good bashing. Pawn, knight and bishop must have flown up the search engine rankings since she started. On this occasion however she got lucky, or might have. A couple of secondary searches convinced her that she was on the right track. She rushed out of the office.

"Abbie, Abbie check this out!" She said, her excitement getting the better of her. "Are you in the middle of something?"

"I'm always in the middle, getting to the end is the problem, particularly when the boss is leaping around you wetting her knickers."

"Can't wear them remember, but anyway, put this into Google. Bishop, exhibition, London, illustration." Abbie tapped away then looked at the results.

"Yes, so?"

"Look at the third one down. There's an exhibition of illustrations on next week. Here, in London."

"Yes, and how does that help you? We went through this with the pawn stuff and they all turned out to be innocent. Why not this as well?" Laura's smug look made Abbie smile.

"Now put in Robert Bishop artist." Abbie did the search and checked out the first three links before turning back to Laura.

"Bloody hell!"

"Exactly, it's got to be more than coincidence." Abbie turned back to the screen and continued examining the images.

"Even if it is a dead end I think I'll go and see it anyway." She said to Laura.

"Blimey, you're getting to be more of a perv than me. You don't play chess as well do you?" Abbie laughed. "Look, I won't be able to concentrate on the presentation 'till I know about this so I'm going to take an early lunch and check out this gallery, okay?"

"Can I come, please?" Abbie pleaded.

"No you can't. Get some work done. You can be a perv in your own time." Laura walked back to her office. As she got to the door she called over her shoulder.

"And I'll check the browsing history on that computer when I get back so behave yourself."

"Spoilsport."

The gallery was housed in a Georgian building set between two retail outlets in a neighbourhood catering to the tastes of the wealthy. Easels standing in front of high screens displayed artworks from what Laura assumed to be the current exhibition. It was slightly disappointing to discover that it appeared to be a typical London art gallery—with prices to match.

Laura stepped through the door and took a cursory look around. The wide room went back much farther than she had expected: it didn't look that big from the outside. The artworks were modern, mainly abstract, and produced in oils or acrylic, Laura wasn't knowledgeable enough to tell which. She liked most of them but could never afford to own one.

Listening to an elderly couple debating the merits of a large abstract painting made Laura smile; she never did have any time for 'arty bullshit'. At a desk in one corner sat another couple, casually leaning back in the chrome and leather chairs. They appeared to be discussing the purchase of another piece.

She wandered on, attempting to look interested in each exhibit while she worked out how to tease information out of the owner. The elderly couple walked past her, thanked the owner and made their way to the door, still arguing their point of view.

Laura moved on and stood in front of a large canvas covered in what looked like sand mixed with plaster. She kicked herself when the overused phrase came to mind, 'I could have done that'. She heard the door close, the second couple had left. From the corner of her eye she watched the woman, smartly dressed in a dark grey trouser suit, stride purposefully toward her. She was attractive, tall and slim and looked to be in her early fifties. Laura hoped the woman didn't ask for her views on the artwork.

"Hello, that's an interesting piece isn't it? Reminds me of a cat," she said, smiling.

"And you like cats do you?

"No, can't stand them either." They both chuckled; Laura liked the woman.

"Aren't you supposed to promote the work?" Laura asked.

"Oh I do, but with these abstracts it comes down to personal preference. Now this one I love." She moved on to the next picture, a rainy night time city scene. "Just look at those reflections and the colours in every shadow. Just brilliant." Laura had to agree with her, it was a remarkable artwork.

"Do you have a particular area of interest?" The woman asked.

"I don't really know much about modern art to tell you the truth. I did study the history of art for A level, but that was a long time ago."

"It hasn't changed." She said smiling.

"No, I suppose not." They wandered along and paused in front of the next piece. They both studied the painting. There was a long silence, which Laura eventually broke. "I saw the press release for your next exhibition and, as I was passing, thought I'd call in to find out a bit more about it." Laura thought she picked up a slight hesitation before the woman answered, perhaps a transient thought holding her tongue.

"Ah, the Bishop collection. We were so lucky to get that. It's only here for a month, on loan from a private collector. I love the erotica stuff. Fifty percent of the exhibits are the original drawings. I've seen them, so intense. That's your area of interest is it?"

Laura wasn't quite sure how to reply. "Erm...well...I don't know really. A friend of mine suggested it, said I might find it interesting." Laura felt the blush travelling up her neck and into her face.

"His sort of work isn't to everybody's taste." The woman said and then she paused, choosing her words. "Are you looking for something in particular?" There it was, an open invitation. Laura's heart raced. She had nothing to lose so she jumped in with both feet.

"I know it sounds silly but yes, there is something in particular. It's a bishop, of the chess sort."

Just at that moment the door of the gallery opened and a young woman entered. She placed her bag behind the desk before joining the others. The woman turned back to Laura and continued the conversation.

"And you think we might have one?"

"Have you?"

"Did your friend say we would, the one who suggested you try us?" Laura sensed the beginnings of a bizarre conversation—it had to be the right place.

"Well, he didn't say you in particular. I just thought it might be you, considering the type of work in the exhibition."

The owner turned to the young woman with an expression of delight on her face and said, "I don't think we'll be needing you on Saturday after all Sally." Turning back to Laura she confirmed her assumption, "You are Mrs Miller aren't you?" Laura gave a dumb nod. "There you are then Sally, that hunky boyfriend of yours will be able to have his wicked way with you after all." Sally's eyes remained fixed on Laura. The peculiar look on her face Laura found hard to read. Was it relief, disappointment, or something else? Then the girl spoke.

"Is this your first time? I remember mine. You can never get that back. You'll love it." Laura's blank look spoke volumes, compelling the owner to step in.

"Thank you Sally. Why don't you go and finish those price sheets, I'll see to Mrs Miller."

As the girl turned to leave she gave Laura a wink and a smile, and said, "I'll see you soon then."

"Yes, lovely." Was all the bewildered Laura could think of. "What did she mean?" she asked the owner.

"Oh, she's got her head full of boys, doesn't know what she's doing half the time. Now then, the opening is from eight till ten so you'll need to be here at seven. Is that OK?"

"Be here for what exactly, what will I have to do?" She spoke the words slowly, hinting at her suspicions.

"You'll serve drinks and nibbles to the guests." She could see that Laura wasn't convinced. "Is that okay?"

"Er...Yes, of course. And that's it?"

"Did you have something else in mind?"

"No, it just seems too straight forward." The woman laughed.

"Why shouldn't it be? You seem very cautious."

"I need to be. So far I haven't had too much luck with finding chess pieces. I just need to make sure I'm not falling into another of their traps. So, let me get this straight. I come here on Saturday, serve the guests for a couple of hours and you'll give me the bishop, is that right?"

"Right, well not quite. I don't actually have your bishop, but don't worry, I'm assured that one of the guests has."

"Are you sure?" Laura pushed the point.

"Yes, it's simple," she confirmed. Lets hope so thought Laura.

On the way back to the office her morale rose higher and higher. At last she felt she was getting somewhere. The woman had confirmed all the details, surely there was no way they could hoodwink her again. On Saturday she would get the bishop, the first piece.

After relaying the story back to Abbie she too could see no loopholes. In high spirits, Laura suggested that the two of them could go out for a meal, her treat. Andrew would be staying at a hotel tomorrow night after a late meeting so she would be on her own anyway, the ideal opportunity. She rang Andrew to confirm with him. Yes he would be going to the meeting. She told him the good news about the gallery and Saturday night. He was pleased for her, so much so that he suggested they book at a new restaurant they had seen but not yet visited. Laura was a little hesitant, she told him that it looked pretty expensive. He insisted that she book and he would pay.

19

The gentle sound of the piano completed a near perfect ambiance at the restaurant. The music was never intrusive but just loud enough to be appreciated. The pianist was good, very good in fact; the feint clatter of crockery and muted voices proved to be his only rivals. The minimalist, modern décor and subdued lighting gave a formal but intimate feel to the place. Abbie and Laura were pleased to push the boat out for the occasion.

It took quite a while to share the office gossip, month by month there seemed to be more than ever. And of course Abbie wanted to hear even more detail of Laura's 'weekend in the country' as she called it. She did seem to have a genuine interest what was happening to Laura, and not just in a smutty or crude way. She asked meaningful questions about how she felt, where she saw it going and at what point she might refuse to do as they said. Laura couldn't decide if she detected a level of sympathy or envy.

The quality of the food surpassed their expectations. As they often did, they shared a starter, not wishing to lose their appetite for the main course. Not that it would have been a problem: as in most of these establishments the portions diminished as the prices increased. The handsome young waiter took away their plates and returned with the desert menu, before once again leaving, giving them ample time to make the difficult decision. Laura chose straight away, the pistachio soufflé. She knew Abbie would be spoiled for choice and would take ages but they were in no hurry. She closed her menu and looked around. There were a couple of free tables but they had been in use earlier, Laura remembered. They were doing well, a full house mid week was impressive.

That distinctive sound caught Laura's attention. The rasp of nylon against nylon as a woman walked past. The slow graceful walk was emphasized by the feint clicking of heels on the grey slate floor. Since the introduction of Weston's rules Laura had worn stockings on a regular basis but she knew she wouldn't capture attention like that woman did. She knew what she was doing, and she did it so well. Placing one leg right in front of the other like a model caused the thighs to produce a gentle swish which only came with practice, and of course the correct choice of stockings. That harsh rasp needed the best quality nylon.

Her companion, an older woman perhaps in her early forties, followed behind as the waiter directed them to their table. Their elegant dresses certainly hadn't come from a high street outlet—they were classy women.

Laura watched as the waiter stood behind the younger one's chair before gently easing it in as she sat. He could only offer the service to one of them so her companion had to seat herself. Interesting to know how he made the choice, Laura thought.

Once seated the woman slowly crossed one leg over the other making the hem of her dress rise to mid thigh. All women like to showcase their best features, naturally, and those legs were probably hers. Laura admired them, shapely and firm all the way down to the slim ankles. She noted how she flipped her shoe, her long leg bouncing up and down very slightly as she talked causing the thin heel to glisten in the soft light.

Laura had little time for frippery but the elegance and grace of the woman certainly grabbed Laura's attention. She knew how good she looked but had the maturity to present herself in a subtle manner. 'She's at home in her skin,' as Laura's Grandmother used to say. Laura watched as the lady interacted with the waiter and her companion. She'd had a lot of practice, being a people watcher by nature.

The woman was confident, bordering on arrogant even and that suited her; she had the beauty and probably the intelligence to match. Laura was brought out of her reverie by Abbie. "Hello, are you with us?" Abbie repeated. "I said I've decided. Salted chocolate caramel tart."

"I'm sorry, I was miles away. Good choice." The ever attentive waiter took the order. Abbie leaned out from the table to watch as he headed for the kitchen.

"Nice arse that one, very nice," she said, in her usual relaxed manner.

"You shouldn't be looking at other men in that way."

"It's good for me, keeps me mentally alert, besides it's only window shopping. You must do it, all women do." Although she didn't admit it to Abbie, it amused Laura to recall that she had been doing the same thing not two minutes before—with another woman. Talking of which, what were they up to? She discreetly looked over. Their interaction fascinated her. It didn't seem quite normal but hard to say why not. The younger one was leaning on the table, her chin cupped in one hand. Her older companion held her hands in her lap, her head slightly lowered. Laura likened the pose to that of a child being reprimanded.

The waiter approached the table with the two deserts. "Wow," Abbie exclaimed, before leaning over to study Laura's, "do you want to swap a bit, yours looks fab."

Laura welcomed the arrival of their desert. After trying out each others choice the level of conversation dropped whilst they ate, granting her the opportunity to observe the two women. She tried to discreetly stretch her neck upward to get a better view. The older woman suddenly glanced around the room. Laura quickly averted her eyes and tried not to be caught staring. Desperate to resume looking she strained at the limits of her peripheral vision. The coast was clear, the woman had resumed talking to her companion. The light clatter of a spoon on crockery marked the end of Abbie's desert.

"That was yummy. I hope Andrew's as impressed next time you find a piece; I could get used to this," she said, dabbing around her mouth with the starched napkin.

"Me too. I just hope nothing goes wrong this time." Abbie started to tell her of the best deserts she had ever eaten and how much they cost. Laura did her best to respond in the correct places and even put a meaningful comment in now and again. She didn't want to be rude but her attention was elsewhere.

The older one left the table, heading for the door marked 'Powder Room', which Laura thought was very tastefully put. Taking a break from prying into other people's affairs she gave her attention back to Abbie.

"If you mess it up again on Saturday," Abbie proposed, "we would have to find another of these bishop's and get another meal out of it. What do you think?"

"I think you're mad. You know how much is at stake here, and I need to get them quickly." Abbie decided to continue goading her.

"Oh go on, did you see the steak that man behind you had, it was massive."

"Yes, and that's what my backside looked like last time I failed. No thank you. Me and my poor arse would rather you bought your own meals."

"You're no fun."

The younger of the ladies gently dabbed her mouth with a napkin, left the table and headed for the powder room, leaving their table empty. The strange occurrence renewed Laura's interest in their affairs. Her impatience made the time pass slowly as she waited for their return. Unable to resist any longer she excused herself from Abbie and followed the women, desperate not to miss anything. The short passageway led to only two doors, marked Ladies and Gentlemen, they could not have gone anywhere else. Gingerly pushing open the Ladies door Laura entered the sizeable, plush room. Two sinks set into a marble worktop stood below a huge antique mirror. Facing the mirror were two cubicles one with the door closed, the other empty. Laura felt a surge of excitement pass through her. She knew she was invading their privacy but she couldn't help herself. They were in there together, they must be. Then she heard the low whimpering noises. Shit! they're doing stuff—together. She couldn't believe it. Suddenly becoming aware of how awkward it would be if she got caught prying she turned to the mirror, opened her bag and pretended to reapply her make up. Her eyes didn't leave the door as her ears strained for every sound. However, the need to strain was decreasing by the second as the whimpers turned to moans and the volume increased. She went into the other cubicle, tempted to stand on the seat to see over the top. No, she couldn't do that. What if they looked up and saw her, she'd just die from embarrassment. Sitting on the seat she found herself squeezing her thighs together as she idly rubbed between her legs, unashamed of how the incident was turning her on and envious of the pleasure being heard. The noises reached an unmistakable climax, as did one of the women, before gradually reducing in volume and intensity.

While waiting for the women to leave Laura opened the door as quietly as possible, and just a small amount, to sneak a look. She heard the clunk of the bolt being pulled across and the door opening. The younger woman left the cubicle. Through the small gap Laura watched her go to the sink, wash her hands and shake off the excess water. She chose to use a paper towel from the dispenser rather than the hot air blower. She then paused briefly, and used the large mirror to check her hair and make up before returning to the dining area.

Laura stayed in the cubicle, still peeping through the gap in the door. Desperate not to make any sound which would give away her presence, she sat as still as possible and waited. She wanted to see the older woman leave.