Susannah’s Rules

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From her fourth floor office, Miranda watched the street below. Hard sunlight created deep shadows and a breeze half-heartedly stirred leaves on the trees. A black London cab stopped at the opposite kerb. The lone passenger was a tall blonde in a summer dress. Her arms and shoulders were bare and tanned, her legs toned and shapely. Miranda saw the jut of high breasts and the breeze whipped her dress up around her thighs. She tilted her head into the breeze, her blonde hair fluttering from her face like a golden flame. She had to be one of the lovelies from Caversham Harte EC, based in the square. The initials stood for Events Coordinators. Their consultants were always attractive and mostly female. Miranda’s phone hummed and, without looking, she knew it was Robert. “You’re blessed with perfect timing,” she said. Of course,” he replied. His voice was a dark brown velvet. Miranda liked that. “And don’t forget my lethal backhand and my impeccably good taste,” he added. Miranda sighed theatrically, “I do so like modesty in a man.”  He ignored the remark. “If you have nothing better to do, pack a weekend bag and be outside your flat at ten sharp on Saturday morning.” “And what might this bag contain?” Miranda asked. “Overnight stuff, little black dress and trimmings, for dinner. Tennis kit, all white . Wear smart casual to travel; jeans would be good.” “How can I resist?” Miranda said, finding it difficult to avoid sarcasm. Robert Clayton was one of those men effortlessly good at everything. He exuded success, charm and entitlement as if it was as natural as breathing. Miranda was intrigued by his direct almost abrupt manner. He had lots to say yet he never used a sentence when a phrase would do. They had dated four times since the Ritz dinner party. Since then, they duelled leisurely like two fencers. They enjoyed the match and waiting for a weakness. Miranda guessed this weekend would be no different. Saturday morning was fine and clear. Robert was punctual and high spirited. They reached the motorway before he told her the programme. “Watching tennis, playing tennis, good food, fresh air, back tomorrow,” he said. Calthorpe Tennis Club was for the smart and rich. Robert was a long-time member. The courts were clay, laid out behind the club building and overlooked by tiered terraces. They sat on the highest terrace and ordered alcohol-free Mojitos. Below them sat twenty or more beautiful bohos, as Robert called them. He beckoned her closer. “Big match in five minutes. Mixed singles. If she wins, she gets his car. If he wins, he gets her.” “Tell me more,” said Miranda.”At a country house party six years ago, a girl called Susannah Pelly had a row with an aristocrat who shall be nameless. To cut a long story short, they agreed to play tennis. If she won, she got his prize racehorse; if he won, he got her for the night. It’s known as slave time.” “Wasn’t it a bit one-sided.” Miranda’s curiosity was aroused. “They invented a handicap system. All the games started at forty to love in her favour.” “Sounds interesting.”  Robert grinned. “ Gets better. He had one serve, she had two. She could hit into doubles tramlines, he couldn’t.” “Did it work ?” she asked. “Yeah. Very tight game. She lost. He almost etimesgut escort dragged her off by the hair and fucked her brains out.” “What did she have to say?” “She loved every minute. Apparently.” “What if she didn’t ?” “If she’d said ‘No’ three times like she meant it, all bets were off.” “And it’s lasted for six years?” “Amongst the sort of people you see down there,” he said. “Do you… have you done it?” “Oh yes.”  Miranda wanted to hear more but there were two figures on court and chatter below. The girl was sultry and dark, more handsome than beautiful. She had impressive legs and heavy breasts that jiggled as she moved. The guy was slim and fair with angelic features that made him look about fifteen. The game was fast, hard and close. The girl could had have taken it twice but she blew it. She gave the watchers a rueful smile and a shrug. Then she looked hard at the guy who beat her and nodded, slowly. “Let’s go check in at the hotel,” said Robert. “She’ll have him on his knees by nightfall.” Robert drove in silence and Miranda thought about the girl with great legs and heavy breasts who’d given herself away. The Cranburgh Arms Hotel was even smarter than the tennis club. Robert was expected. “Two rooms.” He smiled. “With a locked connecting door.”  Taken aback, Miranda nodded. Then she saw the information board behind the reception desk. It wasn’t the details of the seminar it advertised that caught her attention. It was the name Caversham Harte EC, the organisers. Robert said, “We have a court for three o’clock. Susanna’s Rules, loser buys dinner. Okay?” “Sneaky bastard,” she said. “It’s only money,” he said, adding, “Sorry, I’ve work to do. Reception in two hours. Okay?” Then he was gone. Miranda had coffee and sandwiches in the lounge which was huge, elegant and Victorian. It smelled of polished, old wood and fresh flowers. She settled in a large club armchair. By the open french windows, sat a girl and two men. Miranda immediately recognised the taxi blonde. This would be the Caversham Harte team prepping the upcoming seminar. From where she sat, Miranda saw a folder under one of their chairs. Miranda walked towards the trio. They stared at her. She retrieved the folder and said, “I’d feel an idiot if this isn’t yours.” The blonde flushed. Then she gave a dazzling smile and said, “Thank you so much.” Miranda returned the smile and retreated to her coffee. She paid the two guys little attention as they left the blonde alone. After they’d gone, she realised they could have been twins. The third time Miranda caught the girl’s eye, she blushed. Suddenly the weekend became even more interesting. At five minute to three, Miranda met Robert. By three thirty she had lost the set six games to four. They sat on court seats. “Hope your card’s in good shape,” he teased. Miranda was silent. Then she said, “We’ve got time for another set. Susannah’s Rules. Winner gets a slave. Midnight to dawn.” Robert stared at her. “Done.”  His first serve wasn’t deep but it kicked up to her backhand. She put the ball hard down the tramlines giving him no chance. Suddenly she knew how to beat him. So she did, six games to three. They sat on the same seats in silence. eryaman escort Then she said, “ Midnight… maybe I’ll turn you into a pumpkin.” “Whatever you say,” said Robert and they walked back into the hotel. Robert said, “I have to finish some stuff. See you in the bar at eight thirty.” The blonde still sat by the french window. She saw Miranda and looked away. Miranda ordered tea and read a magazine. Twice more she caught the blonde looking at her. The second time she blushed. Miranda finished her tea and went over to the french windows. The blonde’s eyes were blue with a dark ring around the iris. They glittered with an interest that wasn’t just about stray folders. Miranda introduced herself. The blonde smiled and stood up. They shook hands. Her name was Catherine and she worked for Caversham Harte EC. “I know,” said Miranda. They chatted for a while and Miranda asked about the two guys. Catherine rolled her eyes. “Nephews of my CEO. Callum and Niall Carson. Twins. Very bright and hard to handle.” “Lucky you,” said Miranda. Catherine grunted. Then she said, “You look good in whites. Did you win?” “I think I did.” “Against your…” the blonde’s voice trailed away. “My man,” Miranda volunteered. “You’re an item?” “Depends on what item means.” “Do you sleep wih him?” Miranda laughed. “Do you mean sleep or fuck?” She enjoyed saying “fuck” to strangers. Especially this one. Catherine tried but failed not to look flustered. Then she said, “I mean fuck.” Miranda shook her head. Catherine’s pupils were black and dilated, aroused like a hunting cat after dark. “Why not?” Miranda said, “Perhaps I don’t want to.” Catherine tilted her head like a curious schoolgirl. Miranda continued, “Or perhaps he shouldn’t always get what he wants. And he’s waiting for me to make it easy for him.” Catherine’s gaze was direct. “I think I’m jealous.”  “Let me know when you’re sure.” Miranda was gently sarcastic. Catherine didn’t hesitate,“ Okay, I’m jealous.” She sounded defiant. “Of me? ” Miranda murmured. “Or Robert?” Catherine said nothing, her pupils still black and dilated. Swiftly Miranda said, “Have dinner with us. My treat.” “I’m not the third wheel type.”Yes you are, thought Miranda and signalled a waiter. “The roulette table is open, yes?” she asked. The waiter nodded. “Put this on red for me please.” Miranda dropped a ten pound note on his tray. “Red you do, black you don’t,” Miranda said to Catherine, who laughed and shook her head slowly. Two minutes later, the waiter reappeared with two ten pound notes. Miranda took one and left the other for the waiter. He grinned his thanks. Miranda thought about kissing Catherine’s mouth and she thought about kissing Robert’s. It was exciting to have the option – maybe. “Eight thirty in the bar. Yes?” said Miranda. Catherine nodded firmly. At eight thirty, the restaurant bar was busy. Miranda was in her little black dress, Catherine in a silk top and long skirt. Robert introduced himself. Their table was reserved. The menus arrived and they chattered like old friends. After the second course, the stage became alive with musicians who eased into effortless Bossa Nova. “If they play ‘Girl from Ipanema’ I will dance, partner sincan escort or not,” said Catherine. “You won’t have to,” said Miranda. Girl from where?” Robert asked. Miranda shook her head. “Take no notice; he’s harmless.” Five minutes later, the band glided into ‘Girl from Ipanema’. Catherine was on her feet immediately. Miranda followed her onto the packed dance floor. “Can you be the man and lead?” Catherine asked. Miranda nodded. Catherine’s hair smelled of honey and herbs. Her body was supple, sometimes moulding into Miranda almost accidentally. They were the same height so conversation was easy. Catherine’s lips brushed Miranda’s ear. “Of Robert,” Catherine said, “not you.” “You left out a word.” “I know.” Miranda moved her hand over Catherine’s hip. Her thumb tugged at the elastic under the skirt. Catherine’s breathing was suddenly loud in Miranda’s ear. “I left out jealous,” Catherine said. Miranda bent forward so her mouth was close enough to whisper. By the end of the dance, Miranda had told her all about Susannah’s Rules. Three empty chairs surrounded their table. Catherine gestured towards the bathroom and Miranda watched her go. A hand written message on the table read, Mr Clayton please ring Mr Maxwell ASAP. Miranda knew he’d make the call in his room. She looked up as the Carson twins looked down at her. “May we sit?”  “Just for a minute?” asked the other. They didn’t wait for an answer. They sat. “We came to say hello,” said the first. “And to say thanks for the folder,” said the second. Miranda had to laugh. They were the perfect double act. “You have a beautiful body,” said one, smiling shyly. “Very,” agreed the other. His smile was equally disarming. “Thank you, you’re very sweet,” she said, flustered and wishing she hadn’t said sweet. Men hated the word. But they smiled at her, strong white teeth and kissable mouths. They were identical. Dark Celtic good looks: tousled collar length hair and pale hazel eyes. No more than twenty, they radiated animal intensity. A pair of dangerous unruly Dobermans. Miranda wondered what all women would wonder. And whether Catherine kept them on a leash. Maybe she didn’t. That was an interesting thought. Miranda felt a wickedly familiar tingle. She thought about Cathrines’s body boneless against hers. Together the twins stood, bowed, smiled and left. Miranda said nothing about them when Catherine returned. “What are you going to do with him?” she asked simply.  No who, when or why, Miranda thought. “Nothing. In less than two hours, he’s on slave time.” Catherine’s eyeslids drooped. The tip of her tongue showed briefly between her newly-painted lips. Robert returned, grim faced. “I have to meet a one o’clock flight into London Gatwick Airport. Then spend four hours with a group of excited Russians.” “You’re leaving when?” asked Miranda. “Now. See you for lunch.” They watched him go before Miranda paid the bill and they left for Catherine’s room. It was the same layout as her own. “Mainly I like men,” Catherine said. “Most of the time.” “Me too,” said Miranda. “Maybe we should…” Catherine began, distracted as Miranda reached into her handbag and produced two steel dice. “Best of three throws. Susannah’s Rules. Highest wins five minutes slave time.”  Cathrine laughed and waggled her head helplessly. “I’ll give you five minutes slave time.” She picked up her phone and set the alarm. Miranda turned off the light. They sat on the edge of the bed. Miranda said, “ I watched you from my office window om Wednesday afternoon.

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