CHAPTER ONE

General Narrative

 

Certainly Basil Rothberg had imbibed more wine than was usual for him - he had never before let himself speak so frankly to his companion, Lord Hilary Amberton.

Moreover, what Basil Rothberg did not know was that, seated as he was with his friend near the fireplace of the salon, his words, thanks to a curious acoustical effect, were clearly audible in an alcove above, an alcove in which, seated alone, Lady Fiona Savage was intently listening.

"It infuriates me to see that little vixen behave the way she does," said Basil. "Just look at her now!"

He lifted his glass to point out a young woman who moved from one group of guests to another, gayly chatting. Lord Hilary, adjusting his monocle, considered the scene, and remarked, "I've always considered young Caroline quite intelligent, but remember, Nevil, that today is her first official ball given in honour of her twentieth birthday."

While the two men spoke, their eyes did not leave the magnificent young girl who wore a superb white satin evening gown and carried herself with the haughty and disdainful grace of a high-fashion model. They watched her lift a forefinger in an imperious signal to inform a valet that she wished another goblet of champagne.

"Bah!" Basil sniffed as he emptied his own glass, "Miss Caroline Martin is too intoxicated with her own person and her social rank. Seeing how she treats everyone who approaches her, I for one would like to be able to take her over my knees and smack her bottom the way one does a badly brought up child!"

Lord Hilary turned smilingly towards his friend. "Yes," he gently agreed, "I think you'd be quite capable of doing just that. Not that I can blame you, to be sure. On the contrary, I've an idea it wouldn't be unpleasant at all. It reminds me of once in Paris ..."

He was interrupted by the arrival of a servant in livery, carrying a tray of goblets filled to the brim with sparkling champagne.

"I suppose you must have run into a little whore who agreed to let herself be spanked, eh?" Basil chuckled.

"It can be quite amusing, I don't dispute it. However, it in no way can compare with the experience of spanking the bare behind of a young and very respectable debutante, don't you agree?" And both men, eyeing each other, uttered a suppressed laugh.

"Nothing comparable indeed," Basil agreed. "A debutante most in the public view this season. What a come-down it would be, to be sure." Both men lifted their goblets and drank slowly. At the same moment, Caroline Martin crossed the salon and came towards them.

What superb young woman she was. Her evening gown, which delicately moulded out her charms, to show the quality of her young beauty. Her firm, highset breasts were audaciously revealed by the bold decolletage of the gown, whose elegant cut accentuated the slimness of her waist and the roundness of her thighs which one divined through the glossy, immaculate satin, as well as her excitingly long legs. Her bare arms and shoulders had the creamy softness of a camellia. Her hair, of a warm auburn tint, fell in thick curls against her shoulders and gently danced at each of her movements. Her large, wide, imperious eyes, more green than chestnut, seemed to flash little golden points. Her lips were full and sensual. In a word, she was a ravishing beauty, all the more desirable because of her stunning insolence of carriage and manner.

Basil Rothberg felt a flood of desire surge through him as he watched her approach. By God, he wanted her, she must be his!

He began to rise to greet her, but at that exact moment she swiftly changed direction and with a haughty glance full of derision moved past the two men towards a group of guests who joyously welcomed her. Basil remained stunned, her subtle and exciting perfume titillating his nostrils; then, red with confusion and rage, he sank back down into his chair, swearing under his breath.

He was a man of about forty seven, rather patrician-looking, but at this moment beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and his pale lips were compressed to hide the anger which seethed within him. "Do you see what I mean, Hilary?" he demanded in a voice quivering with fury.

Lord Hilary, who had witnessed with astonishment the manoeuvre of Caroline Martin, and whose eyes had fixed with admiration on the suggestive undulations of her behind under that clinging satin evening gown, nodded. "She deliberately sought to insult you," he declared. "But tell me Basil, is there a reason?"

"Yes," Basil replied after a moment's hesitation.

In her little alcove above the salon, Lady Fiona Savage followed this dialogue with burning attentiveness.

"Yes," Basil resumed, "I think I can tell you what it's all about. Recently, I invited Caroline out for the evening. Dinner, the theatre - you know. I frankly admit that my real intentions were not entirely honest, but so what. In short, we were in the taxi, and - the devil, it's ridiculous to tell you such a thing, it's so commonplace! At any rate, I put my hand on her knee - over her dress, mind you. Just a companionable gesture, you understand, and then do you know what happened? She slapped me! Not only that, but she made a real scene, called me all sorts of disagreeable names and then cut me cold for the rest of the evening. Yes, Hilary, just as if I were a clumsy lout just out of college and not a man of my rank and situation."

Lord Hilary sympathetically shook his head. "A most embarrassing situation, my dear friend," he placated Basil. "I recall finding myself in a somewhat similar episode. It makes one's blood boil, doesn't it? Your disappointment and above all your anger in discovering that the girl won't play the game you'd hoped to get her to co-operate in - but these vixens won't play, there's not much a man can do, eh?"

Basil Rothberg growled in a menacing tone: "I'd like to be able to force her to play, to use your phrase. Yes I'd give a lot to have that happen, wouldn't I just."

Inflamed by the many goblets of champagne he had emptied, his mind began to conjure up fantasies of what he could do to a Caroline, helplessly subjected to his most uninhibited desires....

In her alcove, Lady Fiona Savage smiled with intense satisfaction. She was already formulating a plan that would lead to the project she intended to turn into profitable reality. Caroline Martin, young, charming, popular debutante, a beauty surely destined for a wealthy husband from the most exclusive social order ... never before had such a project tempted Lady Fiona, and what pride it would give her to bring it off successfully.