Page 4 of Mayfair Madame (Mayfair Heights #1)

Chapter Four

Ellie

“ H ey, Mum.” Sunday was our day to chat.

Since Dad died, she’d been lonely. Sixty-five years was a long time to be together.

It was a loss that you didn’t get over quickly, but I’d admit, sometimes it was wearing.

Sure, she had friends and a better social life than I’d ever have, but she’d lost her confidence and no longer seemed to be the strong woman and mother who had raised me.

My sister, Lucy, still lived close by and probably bore the brunt. The few times a month I spoke to her, she’d mention how much our mum got her down. How she fussed and moaned. Guilt would hit me hard then.

I’d moved away, opting to follow my then partner to another part of the country. That had backfired spectacularly, and just eighteen months later, she’d left me, citing demanding work hours. I’d called bullshit, but it had driven her into the arms of another. I had only myself to blame.

I’d stayed around for another year or so until this job had come up. How had I been able to refuse?

A promotion, more money, the promise of more to come. It’d have been stupid to turn it down.

“Ellie, how nice to hear from you! I’ve hardly spoken to anyone all week.” The same sentence she started every conversation with, although I knew she was lying.

“Mum, you went out with Edie on Wednesday, and I know Lucy has called you, and don’t say that doesn’t count. You know I’d call more, but…”

“Your job is demanding. I know that, Ellie. You don’t have time for me these days.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, biting back the comment that sat on the edge of my tongue. She always knew how to bring on the guilt.

“Mum, I’m sorry. I work odd hours, but I promise I’ll try to call more.”

“Your brother-in-law isn’t doing well. I’ve told your sister she should make him go to the doctor, but she doesn’t listen to me.”

And this was why. Since Dad had gone, she’d decided everyone’s business was hers, and I’d lost count of the number of times I’d told her it wasn’t. Even my sister had adopted my phrase—it’s not your business.

Mum’s patience was almost non-existent now. Any workman would suffer her wrath if they didn’t turn up or call.

She continued to prattle on, but I’d zoned out, saying yes and no in what I hoped were the right places.

“Ellie, did you hear what I said?” she asked sharply.

“Sorry, Mum, I got distracted.”

“You always do. Call me when you have time.”

“Mum, don’t be like that.”

“Like what, Ellie? We talk once a week. The least you could do is pay attention.”

She was absolutely right, but she repeated herself over and over, and my mind kept wandering. Since meeting Naomi a couple of nights ago, she’d been all I could think about.

“What do you have planned for the week? Will you be seeing Auntie Anne?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

And with that, everything she’d said before was forgotten, as I knew it would be, and she told me all about her plans for the coming week.

Fifteen minutes later, we said our goodbyes, with me promising to call in the week, work permitting.

Talking of work, Lord Benjamin Godfrey was still insisting on prosecuting Naomi. He’d been very vocal with his demands, and tomorrow, we’d need to go back and retake her statement. Clement Winthrop’s testimony was inconclusive.

The old boys’ network at play. It seemed he didn’t want to upset a man who could make things difficult for him.

And here was Naomi, assaulted, yet he was acting the victim. If it hadn’t been for his actions, she wouldn’t have retaliated and hit him over the head.

I wasn’t ashamed to admit I was looking forward to seeing her again. It had been three days, and the image of her sitting on the bed, stroking her breast, played on repeat in my mind.

I clenched my thighs, a tingle spreading throughout my core. It wasn’t right to think of her that way, but it didn’t stop the need to satisfy myself.

I threw my phone onto the coffee table and headed to my bedroom. I bounced onto the bed and got my favourite vibrator out of the drawer.

I pressed the button but there was nothing, not even a slight quiver.

Damn. So much for a fancy USB charging one. Not much good if you forgot to put it on charge. I searched around and pulled out another favourite, thankfully with fully charged batteries.

I lay naked on the bed, my pyjamas in a heap on the floor. The room was cool, despite the sunshine flooding it. Tentatively, I touched the buzzing vibrator to each nipple and groaned as they hardened, the surrounding skin puckered and taut.

My stomach muscles tightened, and my most sensitive parts pulsed gently, waiting for my touch.

I moved my hands lower, doing my best to ignore the flabby stomach I hated. Stretch marks marred the skin. I’d been a chubby child and had waged a constant battle with my weight for most of my life. Even now, the war continued.

I pushed the intrusive thoughts from my head and dipped my hand between my legs, parting my lips with my fingertips, now wet and slick.

I touched the tip of the vibrator to my clit, and an instant thrill shot through me. I closed my eyes and squirmed at the sensation.

Oh, yes. I pressed the vibrator harder, finding just the right spot. I arched my back and lifted my hips off the bed. Spreading my legs farther, I moved the device lower, teasing the entrance to my pussy, thrusting it in and out with ease.

I swirled it around, delving deeper. My inner muscles clamped tighter, and my breath hitched as strong vibrations brought me to the edge.

How would it feel to have someone’s hands on me, caressing my skin? Their tongues licking, teeth biting, kisses soothing.

I slipped the vibrator farther down and whimpered as it stretched the soft flesh.

Anal wasn’t just for men. I enjoyed it a lot and especially liked double penetration, although that wasn’t for everyone.

All the while, I played with my clit with the fingers of my other hand, arousing myself until I moaned with pleasure. Everything tensed. Every sinew, every tendon strung like a finely tuned violin.

I moved my fingers quicker, now slick with my juices, and I held my breath, my heart hammering.

Sucking in another breath, I fucked my pussy with the vibrator and let out a cry as finally I crested the wave, and a powerful orgasm shuddered through me.

I groaned, but still I wasn’t done. I kept my fingers firmly pressed against my clit as my body spasmed. Stars flitted behind my closed lids, and the beat of my heart pulsed in my ears. It had taken mere minutes for me to come, but with a force I’d not felt in a while.

Sated and boneless, I turned off the vibrator and snuggled into my pillow, drifting off to sleep. I woke two hours later, shivering but feeling more relaxed than I had in a while. My stomach growled, reminding me it’d been a while since I’d eaten, but could I really afford to?

Old insecurities reared their heads, the ones that told me I was fat and that no one loved me. Why else would my ex, Kate, have left me? In my mind, it had nothing to do with the many work hours and everything to do with my looks.

I tried working out, tried my best to eat healthily, but I was still the fat kid who couldn’t run from one end of the school gym to the other.

The kid who tried every excuse not to have to go swimming each week. Anything to avoid the taunts and the teasing as I stood at the side of the pool in my regulation black bathing costume.

Years of therapy had done its best to rid me of them, but every so often, they returned. Usually, when I saw or met someone I liked. Especially someone like Naomi.

Tall, beautiful, shapely. Everything I wasn’t. She wouldn’t give me a second glance.

My stomach rumbled again. I should feed the beast. Living on a diet of coffee and very little else wouldn’t help. I should eat.

The earlier rush of lust and adrenaline disappeared, to be replaced by the usual apathy that accompanied these thoughts.

No one would want me. I’d best get used to it.

Dinner comprised a few crackers with cheese, some celery and cucumber. It’d stave off the hunger for a while at least.

I ate while streaming my favourite show. Who knew the Danes and Saxons would be so interesting? But I was invested in their lives. The political intrigue and back-stabbing had me shouting at the TV more than once, but soon enough, it was time for bed.

Work again tomorrow, and I couldn’t wait.

The following morning, Josh picked me up, grumpy as usual.

“What’s up with you?” I asked, not feeling much happier myself.

“Kids kept me up half the night. The little one is teething, and the other one… Fuck knows what was wrong with him. He was bouncing off the walls at two this morning.”

I’d slept better than I had in a while, despite waking at three for my usual pee and flick through social media. The next thing I knew, the alarm was going off.

“Well, that’s kids for you.”

“You never wanted any? I know you’re a, you know…” I laughed. He was such a prude, but at least he tried, unlike some of them at the station.

“Lesbian. You can say the word, Josh. You won’t spontaneously combust.”

“I know, but I never know if I’m using the right words.”

“I’m not easily offended, Josh. Although some use the word ‘dyke’ in a derogatory way, it’s not always as bad as they think it is.”

“See, that’s what I mean. I need to be educated about these things. Some of them in the station do too. I put them right if I hear them use that word.”

“Thank you. I know we haven’t worked together long, but it means a lot that you do that.”

He shrugged. “You’re my partner. I have your back, no matter what. You’d have mine too.”

“Yeah, I would. As miserable as you are.” I punched him lightly on the arm, and the mood in the car lifted. I’d been lonely since moving down here, but I hadn’t taken the transfer to make friends. I’d moved for a new start.

Maybe I just might get that here.

There was no ruling saying I had needed to tell Josh, but it was only fair. He’d been cool with it and said as long as I did my job, we’d have no issues.

My last colleague had made sly digs every moment he could, to the point I reported his ass for being homophobic.

One more reason to move away and find somewhere I was respected for who I was, not who I slept with. I was fucking good at my job, but some couldn’t see past the fact that I preferred women to men.

“So, we’re off to see Naomi Reeves again,” he said. “This is fucking messed up. I spoke to the super, and he said we have to follow up on her statement. I showed him the pictures you’d taken. He didn’t exactly say it was inconclusive, but I’m not hopeful she’ll get the outcome she wants.”

“That’s a shame. She has every right to prosecute that arsehole for what he did to her.”

“You’ll get no argument from me. Fucking nobility, think they can get away with murder. I know for a fact they have, but some choose to turn a blind eye.”

We drove past Mount Street, where we’d visited the night of the incident.

I looked out the window at the unfamiliar buildings. “Where are we going? This isn’t where we went last time.”

“No, we’re going to where Naomi lives.”

A few minutes later, we pulled up outside a modern apartment block.

“What is this place?” I’d not been to this part of the city before. Mayfair wasn’t somewhere we visited often.

“Mayfair Heights. It’s been here a while. It’s owned by Rupert Cardon. He owns a lot of property in and around London. Worth an absolute fortune, by all accounts.”

“I’ve a lot to learn.” London was like nowhere else I’d worked. Yes, Chester had its classier places and some places you’d not wish to roam at night, but it was nothing like here.

“You’ll get used to it. This place is a little different from other apartment blocks.

There’s the main entrance and the exclusive one.

The main entrance leads to an avenue of shops and bars and the main apartments.

There’s even a gym. We’ll look around when we’re done.

You’ll see what I mean. Naomi said not to go through the main entrance.

There’s a set of double glass doors next to it, leading to the penthouse suite. That’s where we’re heading.”

How the fuck did she afford that? Probably best not to ask.

As instructed, we walked through the smaller entrance on the left. It was unassuming, but obviously, money had been spent here.

Floor-to-ceiling cream marble tiles, mirrors along one wall, gold handles on the glass doors, and a doorman in a grey uniform sitting behind a curved desk greeted us.

“Good morning. I believe you’re here to see Miss Reeves. If you’d like to take the right-hand lift to the penthouse, her assistant, Melinda, will meet you.”

Josh and I eyed each other as we made our way to the lift. The moment we pressed the call button, the doors opened. The interior was impressive, just like the foyer. All mirrors and gold, not a smudged fingerprint insight.

It ascended swiftly and smoothly, with silent doors that opened at the top floor. Waiting for us was an older lady. Late thirties, early forties. It was difficult to tell. She was impeccably dressed in a navy blue skirt suit and high heels.

“Miss Reeves will see you now.” She turned on her heel, and we followed her down a short corridor to a set of double doors at the end.

They swung open to reveal a gorgeous open-plan apartment. If only a police salary would pay for this kind of luxury. Seems the escort business paid well.

But it wasn’t the apartment that stole my breath. It was the sight of Naomi lounging on a sofa.

She stood as we entered, but she was nothing like I remembered. Gone was the made-up face, the jewellery, the expensive gown, to be replaced by a down-to-earth woman wearing tight-fitting jeans and a loose T-shirt, one shoulder bared.

Even more beautiful than the last time I saw her. I felt myself fall further under her spell, but her next words almost brought me to my knees.

“Ellie Sharpe, so lovely to see you again.”