Perfect Slave Read Online Free PDF Page B

were into all that.’
    â€˜I didn’t know you were either. Does it matter? We can just enjoy it, can’t we?’
    â€˜I should never have...’ His voice trailed off. He threw on his shirt, put his socks into his jacket pocket and levered his feet into his shoes.
    â€˜Aren’t we at least going to have dinner?’
    â€˜No. I want to go.’
    And that’s exactly what he did. He literally ran out of the bedroom and a few moments later Andrea heard her front door slam closed.
    She lay back on the bed. The contact of the sheet with her buttocks made them tingle anew. It was a delicious sensation. She couldn’t understand Greg’s reaction. Obviously he had let his inhibitions down in an unguarded moment and instantly regretted it. She doubted he would want to see her again. If he were ashamed of his behaviour, of his guilty secret, he wouldn’t want to see the only woman who knew what he was capable of.
    It was no great loss, Andrea supposed. They had dated three or four times and she had never felt anything more than a vague liking for the man. She had never cherished the idea that it might develop into something more significant.
    Pulling the crumpled panties off Andrea spread her legs apart. She could see her labia in the tall mirror on the opposite wall. They seemed to be smiling at her, a vertical smile. She spread her thighs wider and her vagina winked open, its dark scarlet flesh glistening with its own sticky sap. Very slowly Andrea reached over to the bedside table. She took out a thick rubber dildo and brought it down to her sex.
    The next twenty-four hours were going to seem like a lifetime, she knew that. She would just have to find ways to amuse herself until then.
    â€˜I’m waiting, master,’ she said aloud. The word set her nerves on edge.
    Â 
    â€˜Where are we going?’
    â€˜Battersea, Ms.’
    â€˜Battersea?’
    The large black Mercedes had arrived outside the terrace house where Andrea lived at ten minutes to seven. He had double-parked the car immediately outside her front door. The house had been converted into two flats and Andrea occupied the upper floor. She had been ready for half-an-hour and stood at the window, hiding behind the curtains, watching it arrive. At exactly seven o’clock the barrel-chested chauffeur got out of the car and rang the bell on the answer-phone at the front door.
    â€˜Yes, Ms. The heliport.’
    â€˜We’re going in a helicopter?’ She tried to keep her astonishment out of her voice.
    â€˜You are, Ms. It’s quicker.’
    Andrea hadn’t been expecting that. Though she hadn’t the faintest idea where Charles lived she’d assumed she would be driven there.
    â€˜Where does Mr Hawksworth live then?’ she asked.
    â€˜He has an estate in Wiltshire.’
    â€˜Wiltshire?’
    â€˜There’s champagne in the refrigerator, Ms, if you would care for a glass.’
    The interior of the stretch Mercedes was vast and had every luxury. There was a television, a CD player and two telephones on either side of the car. There was a cocktail cabinet with double doors set into the bulkhead that divided the passenger compartment from the driver. Opening the highly polished walnut doors Andrea saw that half the cabinet contained glasses and square decanters of spirits, while the other half was a small refrigerator. It contained four half bottles of champagne. She took one out, opened the bottle and poured it into a tall flute glass. This was definitely the only way to travel.
    â€˜Are there going to be other guests?’ she asked as she sipped the cold wine.
    â€˜I’ve no idea, Ms,’ the chauffeur replied.
    Andrea sat back in the comfortable leather seat and watched the world go by. The traffic was heavy as the big car travelled down to the embankment and along the river towards Battersea. Andrea had been determined to look her best and bought an expensive new dress,