Anyway she seemed well on it. Money in the bank; a new mortgage and enough over for a first class flight back to Aussie to see the boyfriend. Tongues wagged and word had got around but she didn't seem to care. So it was urgent that Emma got to her to speak to her, got across the room through the party to ask for the number, got the number without drawing too much attention to herself. Which she succeeded in doing. Wrote the number on the back of her hand in eyebrow pencil and promised herself not to get so drunk that she would wash it off in forgetfulness. A number for emergency purposes only...

The afternoon sun spilled round the edges of the curtains. Floral landscaped lights danced and meandered across Emma's body, naked and stretched across their bed. Donovan surveyed her. The pale bobbed hair. The oh so English flush...barest peach cheeks and marble white skin. Eyes brushed powder blue and dainty lips. Her impeccable vowels would outlive the lipstick barely clinging since he had kissed her. She seemed tired, Donovan thought. Unusually contented. Saturday afternoons were not normally like this with her. Emma was calm and didn't seem to need him. He would have found himself by now holding her wrists and restraining her but instead Donovan was simply pleased at her relaxation and took his time to look more closely. Abandoned arms. The roundness of her shoulders where the palest of purple veins pulsed just below the surface. Her skin seemed painted over gesso with an underlying blue. The curve of her throat. The flatness to her belly where sunlight still played. Her round breasts that Donovan daily watched for, always naked underneath her clothing. Pastel pink nipples, so pubescent... and then he saw them...four dark puncture marks around the nipple of her left breast...

Donovan had gone out. Gone running. Emma wasn't sure how long he would be gone. The possibility of an early return heightened her senses. It was part of it: that she might be discovered. She had copied the number from the back of her hand. She had written it backwards to add to the subterfuge but written it in her addresses book nevertheless. She rang. 'Lady Margaret, how may I help you?' came the answer. Emma felt her blood rush a little faster. There was a pause...time passed inexorably. 'Good morning can I help you...?'

Yes I'm sorry of course you can. Of course. I mean I really hope so...

School, Medical or Victorian asked Lady Margaret.

I err I don't really know right now...I guess I...Emma tried to answer.

You do know, you know exactly said Lady Margaret quite precisely and sharply.

Medical...I mean no Victorian yes Victorian...

Emma gave her credit card number. Lady Margaret exchanged a time and day. Emma wrote the details on the back of her hand. And so it was that Emma and Lady Margaret booked that appointment. Emma heard their front door click open. The crowded sounds of Camden streamed in and it was Donovan coming home. She put the receiver down quickly. Her body was hot and her back slightly arched. Her breasts ached and her nipples had become erect. She was already wet between her legs. But it wasn't for Donovan...

The day of the appointment Emma booked the entire day out of the office. She took the Tube from Camden to Harley Street and then walked. Almost furtively, felt that she might be followed. She was wearing a raincoat and neatly heeled shoes. Underneath her raincoat she wore a long silk slip. It had all been arranged. Four brass plates and wide White Georgian door belied the interior. She pushed the bell and spoke into the call box. 'Emma for Lady Margaret...' 'Please come in. Fourth floor.'

There was an audible rasp and the door fell open. Emma saw dark red plush battened down with brass and a curving staircase. Real wooden polished handrails to the stairs and up she walked. Her body grew heavier, each step more considered. Emma's life went into reverse. By the time she had reached the fourth floor she was a child again.

There were three closed doors and minimalist reception: Zen grey and black: its low table scattered with various publications. Emma spied a girl sitting cross-legged in perfect serenity. Emma allowed herself to consider the beauty of her long black hair and still calm alabaster face. Emma merely said Emma...these were all the words she could find. 'Come this way please...follow me.' said the raven beauty. Emma was led into the last room. Light levels suddenly fell. The walls covered almost gilt frame to gilt frame. Tapestried chairs. Ferns, aspidistras and potted purple sage. Floral chintz curtains . Deep pile Wooten covered in rugs. A chaise long. Overcrowded and Victorian.

Emma grew even hotter, slipped off her topcoat and sat upon the couch. Waited and waited more. Felt her eyes grow heavy and her body limp. Lay down so tired of even making that decision. She knew the door had opened and closed because there was a slight wisp of moving air. Emma turned sideways. She saw brown-heeled boots fastened with cleats. A long skirt hooked up at one side showing a full-bodied petticoat held in tightly with a belt. A white lace bone bodice and red hair held up in a simple pin. Full red lips. Lady Margaret spoke. 'Emma there is a simple way my dear for you to stop. Your safe word is sage. This is therefore entirely at your discretion. Do you understand?''

Emma did entirely. Lady Margaret brushed her cheeks against Emma's face, their lips barely touching. There was a footstool. Upon there had been placed a folded white towel. Lady Margaret unwrapped it to reveal three long sterilised steel bodkins, the only objects shining in the entire room. Lady Margaret's hands caressed Emma's body. Felt the contours of that body through her slip. Stroked her legs and lent across her many times to straighten Emma's head upon a cushion. Her hands were deft and knowledgeable. Emma closed her eyes and let all resistance leave her. She began to be aroused. Her legs parting slightly. Her labia swelling as juices gathered dripping slowly from her vagina. She allowed Lady Margaret to slip a hand into the top of her slip and expose one breast. Lips were around her nipple now. A dextrous tongue curling around the edges of the most sensitive area. Lady Margaret's teeth around the nipple had it suddenly erect and offered into her mouth. Her teeth bit harder and still Emma knew her threshold had not been reached. One sharp delicious point pressed into Emma's skin just at the edge of her nipple. All her boundaries, all her resistance coalesced at this point on her flesh. Emma so wanted to feel. To feel only to feel. The expectation and her excitement were perfectly matched. One sharp point penetrating her skin. A sudden rush and a deep orgasm within the secrets of her cervix. And Emma wanted more. She'd closed her eyes but opened them for a while. Saw Lady Margaret looking deep within her soul. A slight questioning then total recognition and there was submission in her control. Lady Margaret took a second bodkin and drove it forcibly into Emma's pale skin. Pleasure in giving in. Ecstasy in being known. Lady Margaret drew Emma closer and rocked her like a baby. Where one woman's body began and the other finished it was impossible to tell. Emma's entire body shuddering...the wettest of orgasms poring out from her until all pain was eclipsed. It was over. Emma smelled sage and opened her eyes. The purple leaves held in the sunlight like the colour of bruises...

Her skin seemed painted over gesso with an underlying blue. The curve of her throat. The flatness to her belly where sunlight still played. Her round breasts that Donovan daily watched for, always naked underneath her clothing. Pastel pink nipples, so pubescent... and then he saw them...four dark puncture marks around the nipple of her left breast...

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