So anyway, The Golden Locket finds Serena and Gustav in New York - or at least, Serena is there. Gustav has failed to arrive at JFK airport from a trip back to the house in Lugano, and instead, she has two visitors in the penthouse apartment on the Upper West Side as they watch the New Year's Even fireworks over Central Park.
A face from the past appeared at the very end of The Silver Chain. I won't say too much, but here is an excerpt from The Golden Locket to whet your appetite. Enjoy, lovelies, and spread the word!
'Gustav
and I are in a cosy, intimate and very select restaurant in the West
Village, tucked below street level. It's so discreet it looks like a
kind of muted tavern and only has a small sign outside the glowing
windows. I feel really special sitting here. I've seen one or two
celebrities schmoozing in corners and a group of beautiful people who
look like they must be models or the cast of a play carousing
genteelly, if that isn't a contradiction in terms, in the glass
garden room at the back.
'No need to obsess about the detail. They said it was for their
private collection so I don't know if they'll want me to crop the
pictures quite so brutally down to her private parts,' I murmur as he
stares at the next picture. 'They were asking me to capture the
moment. It's just that the moment they were referring to was when the
two of them decided to get seriously naked.'
'You're
telling me!' he splutters, bringing the camera close to his eyes. 'I
knew the Weinmeyers were experimental exhibitionists, but these are
practically pornographic, Serena! You're only just starting out in
this business. What were they thinking of, dragging you in to their
dungeon and making you do this?'
I
try to take the camera off him, but he snatches it back and folds it
into his fist. His mouth has drawn into a line and a muscle flashes
in his cheek. He pushes his black hair back off his face and sits
back in the red leather seat, loosening his tie still further. His
stretches his arms out in an effort to look nonchalant, but I can
tell from the way his fingers are drumming that he's agitated.
I
start to shrink back in my own banquette. The leather squeaks under
my bare thighs. I dressed up especially tonight. I'm wearing a very
flimsy mint green silk dress and some heels, and I'm not wearing any
knickers. The leather is hot and sticky beneath me.
Gustav
is glaring at me. I'm caught on the hop by his sharp questioning.
He's wearing his authoritarian, headmaster face. I know it's the thin
veneer he applies to conceal the bubbling pot of passion beneath, but
it still unsettles me. Makes me eager to please.
His
frown furrows deeper when he sees a smile creeping round the edges of
my mouth.
'You
going to cane me for my misdemeanor, Gustav?'
He
shakes his head slightly. His features are still carved in granite.
'It's not your fault for getting into a dodgy situation, Serena. I'm
blaming them. They should have known better than ask you to undertake
a task like that.'
I
part my legs slightly on the seat while I think how best to reply to
him without wrecking the atmosphere. I allow the leather to rub
against my tender private flesh until the friction starts to work on
me and I have to stop.
'Give
me some credit, Gustav. They
asked me because I was the right person for the job. As you know they
saw my London exhibition and liked it. They've got my Paris lovers
series on their wall. I'm a big girl, Gustav. Just like you said this
morning. I fulfilled my commission to order. Yes, I was embarrassed
at first, and then I admit I was downright shocked when they enticed
me down these stairs into this red room and started writhing around
on a gigantic bed and all that, but hey! Two consenting adults
pleasuring each other under the watchful gaze of Venus in a sexy cosy
nest, plying me with delicious punch. As Mrs Weinmeyer herself said,
what's not to like?'
His
fingers stop tapping. I see his mouth twitching then with a hint of
amusement but there's a tinge of sadness in his eyes. 'My country
bumpkin. What's happened to her?'
'She's
still here. But I was always a voyeur, Gustav. That's the first thing
you noticed and liked about me.'
I
put my hand on his leg, and when he doesn't move I start to slide it
up his thigh, squeezing the muscle which is all the sexier for being
hidden under his formal business trousers. He shifts in his seat, his
eyes half closing. 'Hey, baby. Let's not fall out,' he murmurs.
I move my hand into the warm fold of his groin, lean closer to
whisper. 'I agree. I don't ever want to argue with you. But you've
got to get this into your handsome head, Gustav. I want to be a
famous photographer. And that means never saying never. To anything.'
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