Obsession Read online

  Title Page

  OBSESSION

  By Cathryn Cooper

  Publisher Information

  Obsession first published in 1996 by Headline Book Publishing. Published as an eBook in 2011 by Chimera Books Ltd.

  www.chimerabooks.co.uk

  Digital Edition converted and distributed by

  Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex.

  This eBook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The characters and situations in this eBook are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright Cathryn Cooper. The right of Cathryn Cooper to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Chimera - a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy.

  Chapter 1

  It was a warm evening in nineteen twenty-five, and Katie Fisher was at a party the night she became obsessed with Carew Bentley Thompson.

  She was standing half hidden in a cluster of aspidistras and palms that tickled her face and totally obscured the lower half of her body. They also hid most of her black and silver Charleston dress, which had small glass beads sewn into the design that tinkled as she moved. The dress was as dark and shiny as her hair, complimented her long legs, but fashionably hid her slender curves.

  ‘What do you think of him?’ asked Phoebe, whose lips were bright red and her blue eyes dramatically edged with grey shadow and sooty lashes.

  With a practised eye, Katie studied the young man concerned. He was impeccably turned out in white shirt and black evening suit. But Katie pretended his clothes were transparent. His body, she decided, was firmer than might be presumed from his lifestyle. Definitely of the country house set and a county family.

  ‘He’s quite delicious,’ she said, her eyes still on him, though her words were directed at Phoebe, ‘In fact, I find him so appealing, I think I would like to seduce him.’

  But her friend was no longer listening. A man had grabbed her and, laughing like an innocent schoolgirl (which she certainly was not), Phoebe was gone, her stockinged legs kicking, her arms waving in time to the tinny blare of the gramophone and the Black Bottom Rag.

  Not that her absence mattered much to Katie. Her eyes - which were the grey of a stormy sky - were fixed on the handsome Carew. He had an arrogant look about him and getting her way with him would be no mean feat. But that was part of the challenge. He was all man, and she wanted him.

  Like any handsome man, he was surrounded by women, pretty women: blondes, redheads, brunettes and all the colours in between. They laughed at his jokes, fluttered their eyelids each time he deigned to look, smile or drop a word their way. Any of them, Katie realised, was his for the taking. No matter that she was good-looking, what chance did she have amongst a comparable flock of flattened breasts and slim legs who fawned on his every word, every glance?

  All the same, she found it hard to take her eyes off him. He was a man who made an instant impression and evoked an instant response. Already he was in her mind and she had an urge to feel him in her body. She shivered delightfully at the thought of his hands upon her breasts, his body invading hers.

  Almost as though her wish had become reality, fingers began caressing her glossy, shingled hair. She tilted her head slightly so that the silver feather that was fixed in her headband bent like some toppled sail. She purred appreciatively as the fingers moved to the nape of her neck, leaving delicious shivers in their wake. Delicately they followed the line of her spine until it and the fingertips disappeared into the valley between her buttocks.

  Longing spread through her loins and made her nether lips feel heavy, as though they had suddenly turned to lead. A fire erupted in her flesh as a hand covered and squeezed one cheek of her firm behind.

  ‘Care to dance, Katie darling?’

  She did not turn round. She knew who the voice and the hand belonged to. Shame, she thought, that it wasn’t Carew Bentley Thompson.

  She eyed the dancing crowd of twenty or more before replying.

  ‘No thank you, Edgar.’ She sipped her drink, but over the top of the sweet and colourful cocktail her eyes did not leave the man who had aroused her thoughts. Edgar’s hand only served to add reality to her dream.

  ‘Pity,’ he said. Through the black chiffon of her dress where silver threads snaked like a spider’s web, she felt his hand squeeze her bottom. She did not move or protest. His hand was warm, the touch of his fingers more than just pleasant.

  For a brief moment, she surveyed the room around her. The walls were covered with red-and-gold-flock wallpaper. Portraits of old family and the glint of old money was reflected by silver samovars, candlesticks, clocks and gilt picture frames.

  But her eyes returned to the present heir to Thompson Towers. Not that he was much taller or broader than other men. But he was more noticeable, more aware of his own magnetism.

  As she watched and wondered about Carew, and Edgar’s hand continued to stroke the soft skin of her bottom, Katie was aware of her heart palpitating and her lips parting. Edgar’s face came close to touching hers. His, breath smelt of brandy and cocktails. Thankfully, eau de cologne helped hide the rich hint of the best Havana tobacco.

  ‘You have a very nice bottom, Katie,’ Edgar said in a low and provocative voice. ‘It feels very smooth - very firm. I’d like to see it again, to run my fingers over its softness and divide its excruciating loveliness with my weapon. Would you like that?’

  She smiled. Edgar was as sure of his own sexual prowess as she was of hers. He was good in bed, and she’d felt and tasted his body on many occasions. But even with the most exotic gourmet meal, the palate can become jaded. Now she was after a different dish, one she had not tasted before. But Edgar was sweet so she felt obliged to give him hope.

  ‘Perhaps I would like it very much, Edgar darling. But that depends.’

  ‘On what?’ His lips gently kissed her ear. His breath was damp upon her naked neck.

  ‘Your matinee performance,’ she said throatily. ‘Your small bit role before the grand finale.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  The rising ache in her loins forced her to take a long and languid breath before she replied.

  ‘I would like an aperitif before the main meal.’ She sounded as if she were speaking through silk. ‘I want a taste of things to come.’

  She heard his breath catch in his throat and imagined what his penis was doing within the confines of his dark suit. ‘Then you shall have it.’ His voice was soft and low.

  She gasped as his hand clasped her buttock a little more tightly. His fingers dug a little more sharply.

  ‘Exquisite,’ she whispered. ‘Quite exquisite.’

  With pleasant deliberation, his hand travelled down to the silver scalloped hem of her dress that stopped some three inches short of her knees.

  A draft of air circled up over her bare thighs as his hand tunnelled up over her flesh and under her dress.

  ‘I wonder what all these people would think,’ he said, his lips just above her ear lobe, his eyes gazing on the same crowd she was watching. ‘I wonder what they would think or say if they knew where my fingers are now and where they are going?’

  ‘I wonder,�
�� she murmured, then purred with delight as his hand trailed over the garters which held her silver stockings no more than six inches above her knees.

  Shivers ran down her spine. Her eyes sparkled and leapt with the dancing crowd as his fingers met the silky nakedness of that exquisite expanse of leg between the back of her knee and the curve of her behind.

  ‘Your skin is like satin,’ he whispered.

  Her smile persisted even though her lips were slightly open. Her sighs fell like autumn leaves.

  Eyes still sparkling, she continued to survey the revellers whose appetite for the Charleston was only out-distanced by their appetite for sex.

  Her attention was focused solely on Carew. She’d heard tales of his prowess, and had also heard tales of his pride. He took pleasure in women chasing him in the hope that he might favour them with his bed and his body. Some he kept hanging on a string, kept them grovelling at his feet. It did them no good. Carew still denied them their ultimate goal.

  But Katie was not a woman to be denied or manipulated. She wanted him, but it had to be the whole thing, the whole way. No consolation prizes for her.

  So her eyes watched, her body waited, and she considered how best to achieve her aim.

  A delicious tremble coursed through her firm yet pliant flesh as she watched the kicking, arm-flailing dancers. Determination to know sexually the beautiful Carew was coupled with instantaneous desire. Edgar’s hand might be on her body. Carew was the man in her mind.

  Purposefully, she shifted her weight from one curved hip to another. Edgar gasped, and her smile broadened. He had found out her little secret.

  ‘You’re not wearing any knickers!’ he exclaimed softly, his voice grating into a groan.

  ‘It’s a warm night,’ she responded. ‘And so’s my pussy. It’s a habit I got from an aunt who used to live in Natal,’ she said. ‘Of course, you know how hot it was out there - all that red dust and white heat. And all those big, black Zulus.’ She sighed as she savoured the pleasure Edgar’s fingers were giving her. ‘Can you possibly imagine how their bodies glistened in the sunlight? They used to gleam, my aunt told me, rippled with primitive energy. What with the heat and them, how could she wear knickers?’

  She heard him gasp again. The sound from her own throat was reminiscent of a subdued mew as his prying fingers explored her bare flesh.

  ‘Did she ever...?’

  ‘Why, Edgar! You weren’t going to ask something truly wicked? Something truly filthy?’

  ‘I only wondered,’ he stammered.

  ‘Of course you wondered. Imagine living in a primitive country with primitive - though handsome - people. She had a lover, you know. My aunt. He was a chief. Over six foot tall he was. Black as ebony, brave as a lion. His body astounded her, you know. So hard, she said, so full of life.’

  ‘And her husband?’ gasped Edgar, his fingers now slow and thoughtful as they explored her hidden flesh.

  ‘Like a slug. That’s how my aunt compared one with the other. Her chief was beautiful, hard and brave. Her husband was rich, had the body of a slug, and the sex drive of a stone.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ gasped Edgar, though it was obvious from his rushed breathing that her story had affected him gravely. ‘Her husband would have found out. Surely he would.’

  Katie’s laugh was light. ‘Why should he have? Can anyone see what we are doing behind these leaves? Can they see where your fingers are going, where your palm has just been?’

  Edgar groaned. ‘No. Of course they can’t.’

  ‘And the fact that we are doing this and no one knows we are doing this, excites you doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ he groaned again. ‘Yes! Yes! It’s tantalising.

  Completely tantalising!’

  ‘And my story aroused you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Oh yes.’

  Now it was Katie who sighed. ‘Good. All good stories should have impact.’

  Edgar did not reply. Softly, his hand slid over her satin smoothness. His breath catching in his throat, he sighed into her ear.

  ‘I’d like to divide those cheeks,’ he murmured. ‘I’d like to bend you over, expose your behind to the moon and slip my rod between your furry lips. How would you like that, Katie? Tell me. How would you like that?’

  Katie was only half listening. Although sexually aroused, her attention was still held by what was happening on the dance floor.

  Carew was caressing the glossy cheek of a pouting blonde who was looking up at him spellbound.

  She saw his hand leave the girl’s face and course down over a smooth, bare shoulder before travelling further and cupping her breast. She saw his other hand close over her behind. His fingers tensed and he pressed her hard against him.

  The music eddied on; a crashing compote of gramophone, laughs, squeals and shouts.

  But Carew and the blonde stood out from the crowd. Their eyes were fixed only on each other. Their bodies were tight together, almost as if some great heat had fused them like that.

  As her moans of delight caught in her throat, a strange idea came to Katie Fisher. It occurred to her that she was out there with them on the dance floor: with Carew and the blonde. The blonde, she guessed, was feeling as aroused as she was, her heart palpitating as Carew’s stiff cock tapped demandingly against her pelvis.

  Katie groaned with delight. Part of that delight was triggered from what she was watching and imagining. The other part was because Edgar’s fingers were probing between the cheeks of her bottom and the lips of her sex.

  As she opened her legs slightly, the chiffon dress and silk stockings rustled like crisp rice paper. Perfume wafted and mixed with the scent of her body and the loamy heaviness of the surrounding potted palms.

  Edgar’s fingers could get no further. It didn’t matter.

  The night was not over.

  The music stopped and a low buzz of conversation ran excitedly through the revellers. Katie was aware of something tense and intangible running through the air.

  What next? she asked herself.

  She saw Carew lean over and whisper something in the blonde girl’s ear. The blonde nodded and gazed up at him with big, bright eyes. He spoke to her again, and again she nodded. With a soft alluring lowering of the eyelids, she slipped from his grasp.

  Katie watched her go. The girl was as pretty from the rear as she was from the front. Her bottom was large but firm and moved with a hint of rebellion against the sheer pale green of her dress.

  Katie wriggled appreciatively on the finger that had now found its way into her vagina. Her gaze went back to the man who now commanded the attention of everyone.

  Once the blonde girl had left the room, Carew, as though summoning the faithful from some high minaret, raised his arms and shouted. ‘Who’s for the cabaret?’

  There were outbursts of giggles and salacious grins from those who knew him best.

  Katie spotted Phoebe who looked over at her and winked. ‘Is she game?’ shouted one girl. ‘Does she know what she’s about to get?’

  ‘Never mind that,’ said a blonde chap with china-blue eyes. ‘Is she wet and ready for it?’

  Carew’s wide and sensuous mouth seemed to fill his face as he smiled. His own blue eyes were bright and, perhaps, arrogant as he surveyed those that crowded around him. Just for the briefest of moments, Katie had the impression of him having noticed her.

  What does he see? she wondered. The question intrigued her. In her mind, she pictured what she thought he had seen on her own personal canvas. Green leaves encircled her hips and formed a backdrop for her slim body which undulated on Edgar’s exploring fingers. Her eyes were sparkling, her creamy skin was faintly flushed and her lips slightly open. Judging from the tickling of her shingled and rich dark hair on the nape of her neck, she was holding her head back
slightly. Like a lover lost in ecstasy, she thought, that’s how he is seeing me.

  ‘Carew up to his naughty tricks again is he?’ said Edgar, his hand patting her behind before leaving her body. ‘This should be interesting.’

  ‘I’ve sent her to the library,’ shouted Carew. ‘I’ll leave all you boys and girls to make your way to the minstrels’ gallery whilst I collect her from there and take her to the dining hall. Now remember to be quiet about it. Noise can be very off-putting when you’re trying to concentrate on what you’re doing.’

  Outbursts of sudden laughter gradually subsided into muted giggles.

  The women - those in the know - unstrapped their glittering shoes, and the men untied the laces of their patent pumps.

  Lights were dimmed as they began to file out of the ballroom where the party had been held. They filtered out into a passage where row upon row of stem-faced ancestors lined the walls and cold white busts of blank-eyed men sat cold and silent on high Corinthian columns.

  Phoebe waved at Katie. Katie waved back.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ whispered Phoebe.

  ‘How would I know?’ Katie responded. ‘You’re the one who brought me here. You’re the one who said this man and his parties were not to be missed.’

  ‘I don’t know everything about him,’ Phoebe said, and grinned. ‘Though I have heard he does like people to watch whilst he’s doing it.’

  ‘Does he now,’ said Katie. ‘Well no doubt you’re about to find out whether there’s any truth in it.’

  Someone told them to be quiet.

  Edgar was behind Katie as they walked the long corridor and occasionally she felt the warmth of his palm on her back or her behind.

  The carpet was thick, rich red and vibrant blue beneath her stockinged feet. The air was cool about them.

  A man with a handlebar moustache and eyes of glassy blue held back an ancient tapestry to expose a white rimmed arch and a set of stone steps that led up and out of sight.

  ‘Silence!’ he exclaimed with as much military character as his moustache. ‘May I remind you ladies and gentlemen that we must have silence.’