Chapter 1

 

The actors synchronize their bows and curtseys perfectly on this occasion. On previous nights the line has been ragged. Jessica stoops so low she's aware she's showing acres of cleavage in her low cut Elizabethan dress but if the guys in the front rows get an eyeful it all adds to their enjoyment of the evening.

She is Katherine in The Taming of the Shrew.

There is a storm of applause and many loud whoops from fellow students.

After a number of wet nights it has been warm and dry, ideal conditions for an outdoor production in the college grounds- apart from the midges. On a previous night the young man playing Petruchio slipped badly on the wet boards and Jessica had to stifle her desire to laugh.

She loves playing the part but hates the way Katherine caves in and ends up worshipping Petruchio. She likes the first part of the play when she can be the shrew, type casting Sian called it. But all this, 'the sun is the moon if you say it is,' stuff sticks in her craw. So she was quite pleased when Tom Kingston slipped and went arse over tit. She doesn't fancy him in the least and wishes Jeff Wilson who is playing Sly had got the part.

Jessica changes into shirt and jeans and comes out front to mingle.

Sian runs up to her all excited. 'Did you see who was in the audience, standing at the back?'

'You're dying to tell me.'

'Only Don Varden.'

'You're kidding.'

'He's still here. Last time I saw him he was drinking champagne in the marquee.'

The two girls edge through the throng trying not to be too obvious. A few people pat Jessica on the back and congratulate her on her performance.

He's there large as life, chatting to two women.

'It's definitely him,' coos Sian. 'Not some lookalike. God, he's so hot!'

It's true. Don Varden, the big star. Jessica has always thought the black actor incredibly handsome and very talented. Even at this distance he has a massive physical presence. Charisma or what?

'Go on Jess! He'll want to talk to the star of the show,' urges Sian, pushing her forward into the entrance to the tent.

He turns to look at her as she gets near, looking more handsome in the flesh than in his photographs. Jessica finds herself smiling shyly though she isn't usually nervous around men.

Don has spent the evening looking at Jessica on the stage. Now he sees her close up. She takes her colouring from her Jewish father, glossy dark brown hair, eyes a dark shade of blue, mouth a perfect cupid's bow, dark eyebrows not plucked to extinction, regular white teeth revealed by her warm smile.

'Congratulations,' he says. 'I thought you were great.'

'Really? I'm probably not cut out to play Katherine.'

'You didn't sound convinced when you said you were his property and you'd do anything to please him,' said Varden.

'Well, I ask you! I know it was written a few hundred years ago but really!'

'You don't think a woman should be submissive to a man?'

'Certainly not! Do you?'

'Actually I thought you got it just right. I don't think Katherine is really converted to the idea. I think she's just playing along. After all she's been through the mill, starved of food and sleep and humiliated by Petruchio.

'I expect you've played Petruchio dozens of times?'

'A couple of times. I played him as a real bastard.'

Jessica looks at him more closely. What is he really like, beyond the charm and the deep brown eyes (long lashes for a guy) and chiselled features?

'Actually I'm not sure the play works in these feminist times,' she says. 'Not all Shakespeare's plays stand up today. I think modern audiences have difficulty accepting the anti-Semitism in The Merchant of Venice.'

'Yeah, I know about persecuted minorities... but leaving all that aside, there's no doubt you're a good actress...actor we better say these days!'

'That's kind of you,' she says. Her cheeks feel hot though she doesn't usually blush.

'Not at all. I recognize talent when I see it. Are you thinking of treading the boards professionally?'

'I was thinking of becoming a doctor.'

'No-one should try to argue you out that ambition, Jessica. A chance to really make a difference.'

'That's kinda what I thought.' She tries not to sound too pious.

'Would you like to meet Ralph Taylor?'

'The Ralph Taylor!'

'Sure, Ralph Taylor the film director. It might help you make up your mind...or you might just want to enjoy a weekend at his place in Wiltshire.'

'A weekend!' Jessica is aware she's in danger of just repeating everything he says. She doesn't want to sound totally star-struck and naive.

'He'll be happy to meet you. He invites a few house guests most weekends in the summer months when he's not away filming.'

'I'm not sure...'

Jessica looked round for Sian. She's skulking near the bar.

'Is that your friend? Pretty girl. She can come too if you like.'

'Really?'

'Does she have acting aspirations?'

'I'm not sure...'

'Perhaps if she was a little taller...'

'But it's not all about looks, is it?'

'Not entirely but being realistic it certainly helps. It's not a fair world. How tall are you Jessica?'

'I'm five nine.'

'And you must know you're very attractive. You must have been told you're pretty from being a little girl. I bet your dad doted on you?'

'But acting talent's what's really important surely?'

'How old are you, if you don't mind my asking?'

'Twenty.'

'Do you think your friend would like to come?'

'Sian. She's called Sian. She's the same age as me.'

'We're talking an outdoor swimming pool, tennis, gym, horse riding, vast grounds, you name it. Do you ride Jessica?'

'When I get the chance.'

'Bring Sian over. I'd like to meet her.'

 

Chapter 2

 

And so the friends are driving down to rural Wiltshire in Jessica's Mini Cooper. The place is even more impressive than Don Varden's word picture though he'd gone on to describe the croquet lawns and the river running through the grounds (with private jetty and motor launch) and the fact that the house started out as an Elizabethan mansion, now with many additions.

'It's not right that one man has so much wealth when other people are starving,' said Sian half way up the tree-lined drive.

'Nothing's fair in this world,' said Jessica echoing Varden's words. 'Do you want me to turn round and drive back?'

'You are kidding? I'm wondering what other gorgeous guys will be there besides Don Varden, film stars, photographers, top sportsmen...all stripping off round the pool.'

'Do you think they'll all be black guys?'

'Why do you ask that?'

'Well Don Varden's black and so is Ralph Taylor.'

'There can't be many black film directors?'

'You're right,' says Jessica. 'Perhaps it's a kind of black mafia.'

'We might be the only white girls,' said Sian smiling broadly.

'Do you like black guys?'

'I do when they're like Don Varden.'

Both girls start to giggle. 'I know what you're thinking,' says Sian.

'What?'

'Big cocks.'

'It's a myth,' said Jessica.

'Have you ever been with a black guy?'

'Well no,' says Jessica.

'So how do you know it's a myth?'

'Perhaps we'll find out.'

 

Jessica feels a bit self- conscious about parking her mini alongside the big expensive cars already there in front of the house gleaming in the sun.

The girls are dressed for warm weather and are lucky- it is another beautiful day though humid. They are wearing strappy summer frocks they've bought specially for the weekend. Jessica is wearing a cotton frock in pink with a white flower print and a pale blue headscarf worn like an unravelling turban. Sian's is in a strappy cami tunic dress which hugs her fuller figure. The girls, one dark, one blonde, are wearing shades for extra style. They may have arrived in a Mini Cooper but they agree they look OK which gives them much needed confidence.

They are greeted at the main door by a white male servant in smart uniform who pops out before they can ring the bell. This makes Jessica look for cameras and she sees several high up on the building. After putting their cases through the doorway, instead of taking the girls inside he steers them through a high wrought-iron gate at the side of the house and along a crunchy gravel path flanked by hedges and gardens.

The trousers the servant wears are tight round his bum and Jessica nudges Sian as they walk behind him and they suppress giggles.

'Everyone is round the swimming pool,' he says, 'enjoying this glorious weather.'

'Isn't it gorgeous,' says Jessica and this time Sian digs her in the side.

Eventually they reach an outdoor pool with bright sunshades, deckchairs and recliners on three sides; the other side has a bar with its own brightly coloured awning and a large barbeque manned by servants in the same uniform as their guide. The people sitting round the pool are all wearing white towelling bathrobes and flip flops.

Beyond the pool several white marquees are pitched on a well-manicured lawn.

Jessica realizes with a shock that those in the water-all black guys- are swimming nude. This only becomes apparent when one muscular young man hauls himself out onto the side of the slightly steamy pool.

She recognises Don Varden and can't help noticing he's well hung just as they'd predicted. He smiles and gives them a friendly wave.

A beautiful Asian woman in a white bathrobe walks towards them.

'Jessica and Sian?' She has a slight accent.

'That's right.'

'We were expecting you. I'm Meera, Ralph's partner. I hope you had a pleasant journey.'

'Sure.'

'No trouble finding us?'

'Satnav.'

'Of course.'

'It's very kind of you to invite us.'

'Come along with me girls. I'll show you where you can change. I hope you're happy with our rule, no fabrics in the pool?'

Jessica and Sian look at each other and pull faces as if the idea is scary but they mutter sounds of assent.

'You're an actress Jessica? I used to act in Bollywood but small parts only.'

'I've only been in plays at university, amateur stuff. I can't call myself an actress.'

'And you Sian?'

'Just a student...so far.'

'You're both very pretty.'

They expect to be introduced to Ralph Taylor but Meera is guiding them along the damp bath side to the tents on the lawn. Perhaps the famous Director isn't here.

'You can leave your clothes in there and put on a robe. Come and join us. The water's lovely and warm.'

About ten minutes later Jessica and Sian emerge, five minutes to undress and five minutes to decide if they will swim in the nude.

'If we just keep our robes on until we slip into the water.'

'Won't that look a bit pathetic, as though we're prudes?'

'I think they want to take a good look at you Jess. See if you've got the body for films.'

'You're the one with the big boobs. They'll probably be busy looking at you.'

'All those black guys ogling us!' There seems to be a mix of relish with dread in Sian's tone of voice.

'I suppose we can't expect to look at them naked if they can't look at us.'

'We probably need to be bold. Just toss our robes over a deckchair and dive in.'

So the debate continued until finally Jessica grabs Sian by the hand and drags her out of the marquee. 'Come on,' she says. 'This is ridiculous!'

Jessica's hardly hit the water before Don swims up to her.

'You look magnificent,' he said. 'A sight for sore eyes.'

He gets so close that her soft naked breasts are pressing against his hard chest.

 

Chapter 3

 

Jessica is shown up to her room by another uniformed servant.

The uniform is like that worn by the old-fashioned hotel bellboy and all the guys seem to have pert butts accentuated by the extreme tightness of their trousers. Whilst the uniforms would be fine for youngish boys they look slightly ridiculous on grown men. The thought crosses Jessica's mind that this may be intentional. All the male guests are black while all the men attending to their needs are white. Is the uniform meant to ridicule them? If so, do these servants care? Are they paid so much they don't mind being mocked? Are they here because they want parts in films? It all seems strange.

She has spent most of the late evening dancing with Don Varden. A huge portable dance floor was rolled out on the lawn near the pool and a live jazz band took up their positions. Jessica hadn't noticed the strings of coloured fairy lights round the swimming pool until dusk when they came on. Other lights were placed around the dance floor and behind the musicians, a few strobe effects.

There was also a full moon casting pale light over the lawns and gardens which, taken with the artificial lighting, created an ethereal atmosphere, nothing seeming quite real. No doubt the amount of alcohol dispensed from the outside bar also played a part in making Jessica feel light footed and light headed as though she was skimming over the white grass. The band played corny tunes like 'I'm in Heaven' and 'Love is the Sweetest Thing'.

She forgot about Sian for long periods, though vaguely aware she had a dancing partner- was it Meera, surely not? They were no longer the only girls there. Other women, mostly older, had drifted into the scene, sort of materialized. But they are all white women apart from Meera. Clearly these black guys didn't want to dance with black girls.

Don kissed her and held her tight and she was carried away.

Undoubtedly she was drunk but there was some sort of magic in the air.

Now the servant who'd accompanied her in the lift has gone (she remembers feeling unsteady and leaning against him) and she is alone in a lovely airy bedroom with white curtains billowing at an open window. She undresses but feels too tired to take off her make-up, wash, or brush her hair. She gets into bed naked and feels the room spin as she lays her head on the soft pillows.

When she hears a light tapping on the bedroom door she's not sure if she's dreaming. Someone comes into the room with a light tread and she knows it will be Don so she pulls back the duvet to make room for him. Her mind vaguely registers that he'll want to fuck but doesn't know if she'll have the energy. She smiles to herself thinking that he'll be a good fuck with his huge brown cock and she'll be able to tell Sian about it in the morning. She'll be able to say the virile black man myth might just be true.

'You've been a naughty girl, haven't you?' He says this in a soft voice with a playful tone.

'Yes, I drank too much.'

'And you were flaunting yourself in the pool weren't you?'

'Was I? I loved swimming nude,' she says dreamily.

'You liked all the guys lusting for you, didn't you?

'I suppose I did. Is that terrible?'

'You behaved like a whore.'

'Don't be cross.' Jessica scarcely opens her eyes. His voice lulls her even though he's criticising her behaviour likes he's her father.

'I should have made you parade round the pool to let everyone see everything. Let them see what a slut you are.'

'Yessssss,' she says sleepily.

'I should punish you shouldn't I?'

'How will you punish me?' She says this as though he's discussing a treat for her or the kind of flowers she likes best.