Amy Cunningham Romance Reviews Today  www.romrevtoday.com  says:

"You're in for a fun read with Ms. Dawson's SECRET SERVICES, a sexy, romping tale reminiscent of Remington Steele or James Bond...an understated, classy eroticism...Rated Hard R for some satisfyingly erotic situations, SECRET SERVICES is a pleasing e-book that will appeal to readers who enjoy a sexy tale that retains its own distinction with a well-written story...Add SECRET SERVICES to your e-book arsenal today; you won't regret it!"

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By Rae Douglas  http://www.romancejunkies.com/artman/publish/article_670.shtml

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Just Erotic Romance:  Reviewer: Reva Moore  Rating: 4 Heat Level: S
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Secret Services has action, adventure and enough erotic scenes to blow out the coldest air conditioner.

Just Erotic Romance: Reviewer: Angel Brewer Rating: 4 Heat Level: H

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Secret Services was a delight to read...the time period was a fresh departure from the standard historical, and the major world events were nicely integrated into the plot.

Just Erotic Romance: Reviewer: Barb Chan Rating: 4 Heat Level: H

SECRET SERVICES

CHAPTER ONE

Friday, May 17, 1929, was the day my boss gave me my first important assignment and the day I decided to lose my virginity.

Samuel Parfitt called me into his office as soon as I arrived at the Daily Gleaner on Fleet Street just after nine in the morning. I took a quick glance first in the mirror of the ladies room, pleased that my new bob had kept my hair tidy, even though I’d ridden on the open top of the omnibus.

"Morning Gillian," Sam said, as I came through the door. His eyes swept me from head to toe as usual, hoping for a glimpse of leg. Fat chance! I kept my short frocks for parties. He waved me to a chair. "Have a seat."

I sat down and smoothed my skirt over my lap.

He puffed on a smelly cigar. "I have a job for you."

My heart leaped in excitement. A real assignment. For me! What had happened to Mary Dawn the by-line barracuda?

"Mary Dawn is indisposed," he said. "Looks as if she’ll be off for a few days. Bad case of flu." Flu, my eye. Flat on her back with some upper class twit, no doubt.

I put on a caring look and waited.

"We have an invitation to Lord Ellersby’s estate for this weekend. We can send one woman."

It didn’t sound very exciting to me. I’d spent many a dreary weekend reading The Field in dank and under heated libraries in country estates, waiting for the next meal to relieve the monotony. That was why I’d defied my mother and taken a job in London. Well brought up young ladies still weren’t supposed to work in 1929, but I was determined to make my way. I had my sights set on a regular by-line on the news page, but I was still doing pick up assignments for the women’s section. So I wasn’t about to refuse a chance of something important.

Mr Parfitt leaned forward. "They play the ‘Game’," he said in a low voice.

I’d heard of the Game. It was a big mystery and most of the girls I knew were wild to get invitations. Despite lots of questions, I’d never been able to get any details about what went on. From what I had gleaned, it sounded like another boring version of Charades to me.

"What exactly is the Game, sir?"

"No one really knows. Everyone who plays it refuses to say. If we send in a girl--"

"A reporter."

"Yes, a reporter. We can do an exposé."

"You think there’s something to expose?"

"I think it’s probably just some idle rich having what they call fun." Mr Parfitt had definite socialist tendencies. I knew the only reason I’d been hired was because I could be counted on to get exclusive interviews with people like Lady Gloria Simmons when she sailed for New York on the Queen Mary. A percentage of our readership likes that.

"But you might catch some interesting gossip," he said. "It’s just what we need for the Sunday edition."

The paper teetered between solid news and titillation. One day it would make up its mind or go out of business.

"How many column inches and do I get a by-line?"

He regarded me through narrowed eyes. "Ambitious, aren’t you?"

I smiled sweetly. "I am."

He grinned like a shark contemplating a tasty meal. "We can talk privately when you get back. We could work something out."

I fluttered my eyelashes in a suitably coquettish way and gave him a little smile that I hoped conveyed a promise.

Well pleased with himself he gave me directions to get to Somerton House, Lord Ellersby’s estate, and told me to draw my expenses.

I had to go back to my flat to pack some clothes. On the way home on the bus I thought some more about my boss’s expectations. Of course he wouldn’t get anywhere with me. Not even this job was worth that. He was old enough to be my father, overweight and smelled of those awful cigars. But he had reminded me of a problem. To hear some of my friends talk, they spent their lives skipping from one aristocratic bed to another. Because I worked and lived in town, they assumed I had even more affairs than they. I maintained an aloof air of secrecy which drove them wild. But the truth was, I was still a virgin at twenty-two and had no secrets to share.

My best friend Philippa got married last year. Her husband, Richard, was something in the City, very staid and serious, and wouldn’t have appealed to me, but they seemed happy enough. I met Philippa one Saturday for some shopping in Bond Street and we went for tea with our parcels in The Strand. Philippa stripped off her gloves and took a sip of her tea.

"Heaven," she said. "I’m exhausted."

"How’s everything?" I asked. "You’re not..."

"Preggers? Heavens no." She laughed. "But it’s no thanks to Richard."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Every night and most mornings," she sighed.

Richard? Richard with the little mustache and dark suits and sensible ties? I looked surprised, hoping for more. Philippa was in a talkative mood and leaned forward confidentially.

"You know, Gilly, I can’t tell you much, it wouldn’t be right with you still not even engaged, but there’s one thing I regret."

"What’s that?"

"I didn’t have more experience when I was married. As it turns out, Richard and I are very compatible." She blushed prettily. "But I had no idea what to expect, except what my mother and my sister told me." She gave me a long look. "It helps to know what to look for in the marriage stakes."

I’d never found anyone I wanted to snuggle up to naked, and it was starting to worry me. Of course when you have a mother like mine, you have a built in morality guide too. But even ignoring Mother’s directives on purity, I was too picky. This one was too tall, the other was too thin. One had a braying laugh, another one pawed at me with damp hands. Ugh! Philippa’s advice combined with my own concerns. How was I supposed to choose a husband in the near future if I had no basis for comparison? I’d decided that I had to stop being so critical, pick myself a partner and get on with it. After all, it wouldn’t be as if I were committing to someone for life.

Bed hopping was a feature of most week-end parties and this invitation to Somerton House was perhaps my chance. I could do my assignment, rid myself of my annoying virginity, take my place among the worldly-wise females around me and maybe, just maybe, liven up an otherwise dull weekend. Of course, I had to find a partner, but that shouldn’t be too difficult. I’d just pick the one with the best body and who seemed a bit experienced. I didn’t fancy any amateur groping and fumbling.

I’m always cheerful when I’ve made a big decision, so I hummed a tune to myself as I trotted up the stairs to my tiny flat. My restricting and embarrassing condition had been on my mind for a while and I’d even procured some French letters. Last time I was home I’d sneaked into my brother Bill’s room and gone through his dresser drawers. Hidden in a traveling writing desk I’d found several packets of prophylactics. There were six in a pack and I’d only taken one pack. How many did you need in a night?

I packed a filmy nightie that was pretty enough, but not new. I’d read about men ripping off a woman’s clothes in a passionate frenzy. I was all for the frenzy, but didn’t want to spoil a brand new item. I chose two evening frocks, a little silvery cloche hat that brought out the color of my eyes, and a short flapper dress I’d never worn and something for walking. Stockings, shoes, underwear, perfume and I was all set to embark on my voyage of seduction.

Soon after midday I picked up my suitcase and went in search of a taxi. The paper was giving me expenses, so there would be no open top buses this weekend. I caught the two thirty from Waterloo and arrived at Somerton House in time for tea.

The assembled guests were sipping cups of Darjeeling in the small salon. Surprisingly I didn’t see anyone I knew. Maybe that was a good thing if I was going to behave scandalously. Unfortunately my mother had contacts everywhere, so I’d still have to be careful.

"You must be Lady Gillian!" A well modulated voice made me turn. A tall, blonde woman in a fashionable frock came towards me. "I’m Sandra Ellersby," she said, extending a hand. "The butler let me know you had arrived. I’m so pleased you could make it. We’re always glad of fresh faces for the Game." She gave a smile and a knowing look, led me to a side table and poured me a cup of tea with her own hands. "You’ll find we’re not too formal at these get-togethers," she said, passing me a plate of sliced lemon, "so please don’t wait for introductions. Do you know anyone?"

I scanned the room again. "I don’t think so, Lady Ellersby."

She gave a tinkle of laugher. "Oh, please, call me Sandra. There’ll be no formality this weekend, I assure you." She gave me a wink, but I wasn’t quite sure what it was I was supposed to understand.

"Let me start you off." She took my arm and steered me towards another girl of about my age. "I’ll introduce you to Emma Houndsdale and then you can go from there."

She smiled warmly and patted my hand after she’d made the introduction and sailed off towards a group of people in the corner.

I’d actually heard of Emma Houndsdale. She’s the youngest daughter of an earl and is on the guest list of every party mentioned in the society pages of The Times. Of all the girls whose names appear regularly in the society pages she wears the shortest skirts, the longest necklaces and kicks the highest in the Charleston.

That day an embroidered cap molded to her head, leaving just a few wispy fair curls peeking out around her elfin face. She smoked a cigarette in a holder and gazed at me amiably.

"So you’ve come to play the Game, young Gillian."

"I suppose so. Is it some sort of group game?"

She flicked her cigarette ash and gave a small smile. "In a way."

"I’m not all that fond of party games."

She looked at me narrowly as the smoke wreathed around her face."It’s easy to play. We all sit around a table. It doesn’t take long, and then everyone can go off and enjoy themselves." She took a delicate drag on he cigarette.

She looked like Theda Bara in ‘Madame Mystery.’ I decided I’d have to learn to smoke and look as femme fatalish without choking to death. After I’d orchestrated the seduction of the willing virgin.

The assembled company chatted or watched some of the men play cards until it was time to dress for dinner. I was on the lookout for a suitable ravisher, but wasn’t having much luck. Three or four of the men were very old, at least thirty-five or forty. It would be like going to bed with an uncle. I needed someone with plenty of stamina because I meant to find out everything I could while I had the chance.

I wandered around the large room and approached the grand piano where a young man was tinkling away on the keys. He was film star handsome and looked up as I stopped. My spirits rose. I leaned on the piano in the same way I’d seen Louise Brooks do it in ‘Pandora’s Box.’

"Hello there," he said and did a clever ripple of chords. His hands were very pale and slender. His nails were buffed and perfectly shaped, a lot better than mine. I mustered a mysterious smile and sipped my drink, trying to imagine how he’d look without his jacket. His shoulders were thin and his neck was a bit too long. He closed his eyes and listened to his own music, ignoring me. So he fancied himself as an Ivor Novello. I moved on before he could start to sing.

I spent a few minutes listening to a beefy young man holding forth about a polo game. The body looked fine, but he had a bushy, gingery mustache that would tickle like mad. I was beginning to feel like an appraiser at a horse show. I was getting a bit depressed, having geared myself up for the big plunge, so to speak. Maybe I wouldn’t find a man I’d want to let into my bed.

I stood by the window for a moment and looked out at the gardens. Was it too much to ask for a man who was good to look at, well put together, who would be interested in making my initiation to sex a pleasurable and memorable experience?

Ever since I had been old enough to go to grown up parties I’d received mixed messages about sex. Many women seemed to think it a boring chore that one did in return for a name and position. Others, and this include most of the girls I knew, thought it could be much more. Certainly a lot of films gave us hope for being swept of our feet by a handsome man.

At last it was time to dress and one of the maids drew me a nice warm bath liberally dosed with bath salts. The air was heady with scents of exotic flowers. I hoped it would put me in the right mood. In the warm water I lay back and let my fingers flutter over some of the important parts concealed by the water. They seemed nicely attuned to what was in store later tonight if all went well. I stroked my inner thigh very gently, imagining the fingers of my future lover doing the same. The resulting quiver was more than satisfactory. I’d indulged in some heavy petting from time to time so I knew what was supposed to happen. It just never had.

I chose some black silk underwear and dressed for dinner in a nice blue frock with silver trim. It floated in a very ethereal way. With my silver shoes, my shawl and my cloche hat I was satisfied with my appearance. I stuck a tail comb in my mouth to judge how I would look with a cigarette holder, but it was awfully difficult to hold between my teeth. How did they manage it? I looked like a horse accepting a carrot, all teeth and lips. I decided I needed a lot more practice before I could carry off the sophisticated smoker role. One thing at a time.

Over pre-dinner drinks I found that more guests had arrived and most of the men were politicians or something in the government. Several were British, but I heard a German and an American, easily distinguishable by their accents. The average age of the gathering had increased and I was beginning to think I might be taking a magazine to bed instead of a lusty lover. What a waste of expensive bath salts and talcum. A couple of the men were positively ancient and wheezed a bit. The thought of my bed partner having a heart attack put me off even more.

The only married couple was Lord and Lady Ellersby. The other women were young and rather nice looking on the whole with lovely clothes. They all flirted outrageously with the men. An atmosphere of tension began to build. Was that what the novelists meant by sexual awareness? I hoped so. If the older men were to be paired off, I would have the pick of the younger ones.

And two more young ones did appear in time for dinner. The guests were on their second or third cocktail and the noise level was rising when I saw the new arrivals. They were both tall, one fair and one with red hair. I’m not fond of red hair, it reminds me of my brother Billy, the condom king. He was an absolute beast when we were little, so I thought I’d pass on the fiery locks.

I was giving the other fair-haired one a surreptitious once over for height and muscle tone, when someone grabbed my arm. I slopped my drink onto the Persian rug and turned to protest.

"Gillian! What the hell are you doing here?" My brother Billy’s best friend stood within six inches of me, glaring into my face.

"Hello, Johnny. I might ask you the same question." Mother always said attack is the best form of defense.

He lowered his voice even more so it came out like a hiss. "Do you think you’re staying here?"

I wished I had a cigarette holder to flick nonchalantly. "That’s what my invitation said."

"You have to leave."

I tried to imitate Lady Ellersby’s tinkly laugh. "Of course I can’t leave. Why should I?"

"Do you know what happens here on these weekends?"

"A lot of boring talk, some large endless meals and some sort of parlor game."

He grabbed my arm tighter and started pulling me out of the crowd. "Get your things. I’ll take you to the station. Tell them you’re ill."

I pulled my arm away from his hold. "I most certainly am not ill and I won’t say I am. Really, Johnny, you’re being a bore. Get yourself a drink."

I’d never paid much attention to Billy’s friends, consigning them all to the category of loud, obnoxious rugby-playing brutes. But then, I’d never been this close to Johnny Westmarland before. He had nice dark hair that sort of waved over his ears and extremely interesting deep blue eyes. There was tiny scar by his mouth that gave his lip a charming little kink. I took a step back to take in the rest of him. Not bad at all. Tall, wide shoulders, long legs. He was in fact quite stunning in his dinner jacket and crisp white shirt. Pity I couldn’t trust him enough to make him my partner for the weekend. He’d never keep the secret from Billy and the rest of the rugby team.

Johnny had taken his eyes from me and was staring at the man with the German accent. Suddenly he fished in his pocket.

"Here are my car keys," he said thrusting them into my hand. "I can’t leave right now. Leave the car at the station."

"You must be quite mad. Why on earth do you have your car keys with you at dinner?"

"Don’t ask irrelevant questions. Will you go?"

"Of course I won’t go. I’m looking forward to my dinner. And another drink." I waved my empty glass in the air and swanned off to get another.

Dinner was announced five minutes later. It was just as well because my head was beginning to get a bit swimmy after my second cocktail. I needed some food in my stomach. There were twenty for dinner. Ten men and ten women. Quite a feat for a hostess not to have an odd man or woman. My mother would have approved. I sat next to a balding, fat man who concentrated on his dinner plate and barely addressed a word to me.

I decided I’d better start noticing details if I was to write an article worthy of a by-line. I tucked in to a very good piece of game pie and gazed around at my fellow guests, who all seemed remarkably animated. Even the old ones were talking and guffawing away despite their advanced age. My experience of country dinner parties had been of watery gravy, dull conversation and a bewildering array of cutlery. This was much better.

I tried to commit the colors of the dresses and the more interesting jewelry to memory. At the far end of the table I saw a face that seemed vaguely familiar. Did I know him, or had I seen his picture in the paper recently? I frowned, trying to think who he was. If he was a friend of my mother’s I’d have to be extra careful.

Suddenly I felt a weight on my knee. I froze. The large, silent gentleman next to me was slowly moving his fingers up my thigh as if he were practicing a piano exercise. This was not a new experience for a modern girl used to riding London buses. I took hold of my dessert fork, slid my hand under the lace tablecloth and stabbed.

Fatty Arbuckle next to me jerked back and gasped aloud. The hand was withdrawn. "Sir James!" Lady Ellersby’s voice floated clearly down the table. "I know what you’re up to. Don’t be naughty. You know the rules. Everyone starts at the same time. No early shoppers!" She laughed and the man next to me shifted uncomfortably and went back to buttering a roll. The rest of the diners joined in the laughter. Sir James raised his napkin to his lips and shrugged as if to say "It was worth a try."

‘Everyone starts at the same time.’ This had to have something to do with the Game. She certainly wasn’t talking about playing cards.

I caught Johnny’s eye. He was on the opposite side of the table about three chairs down, watching me with a cat-like intensity.

I crossed my eyes and stuck my tongue in the side of my mouth like we did when we were small and sent him the message that I thought him ridiculous. He turned to his neighbor, a red head in a lime green dress, and hitched one shoulder to send me the message that he had other fish to fry. So be it! I continued my scan of the guests. I needed detail for my article, but I also needed to pick out my bedfellow for the night.

By the end of dinner, I’d come to the conclusion that the fair-haired man I’d first seen with his red-headed friend would be my best bet. When he loosened the button on his dinner jacket I saw a lovely scarlet cummerbund that drew my eye to his waist and hips. They looked slender and strong and he had long, lean legs. Quite attractive, in fact, although his chin was a bit weak. I caught his eye and smiled at him over my water glass. I’d left my wine untouched for the last part of the meal, wanting to keep my wits about me. I wasn’t going to take this important step in my life half sozzled, although I understood from my friends that was often what happened.

When Lady Ellersby rose to signal the end of dinner and led the ladies off to the drawing room, I noticed the German deep in conversation with the man I thought I recognized. They had pulled two chairs closer together and didn’t even glance up as the ladies left. Johnny had risen to his feet and I gave him a cheeky little wave as I walked out.

I’m not all that fond of ladies’ talk after dinner, so I decided to find a loo, powder my nose and skip some of the chat about engagements and pregnancies. With luck I’d only have to endure about fifteen minutes of gossip before the gentlemen reappeared, full of port and smelling of cigars, and we could get on with the main business of the evening, namely the Game. I’d already figured out the Game had to be some naughty version of Postman’s Knock or Sardines, so it might help me in cutting Mr. Cummerbund from the herd.

I found the cloakroom tucked away in a dark passage close to a door giving onto a garden. It was hot and stuffy in the main rooms of the house and I decided a bit of fresh air would do me good. I stepped outside onto a brick pathway. How could I corner Mr Red Cummerbund and lure him into bed in the time remaining? I’d concocted plenty of schemes to get round my mother’s rules and this shouldn’t be beyond me.

I was deep in thought, strolling between some highly scented lilac when a movement in the shadows startled me. My pulse racing, I stopped and peered into the gloom. For all I knew, lying in wait outside could be part of the Game. The shadow moved and revealed itself to be a man. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized who it was.

"Johnny! What are you skulking about here for?"

He stepped closer and wrapped his arms round me. "Pretend we’re kissing," he whispered against my lips.

Pretend? I’ve had a few kisses in my time and this was not pretend. His mouth was lovely and soft, yet hard at the same time. I caught the tang of a spicy aftershave. The kiss blotted out all my thoughts of the fair-haired man. It set my pulse pounding and started a quiver deep in my insides. The feel of him pressed against me sent a zing right through me. I lifted my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. My fingers stroked the nape of his neck and the zing went deeper. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

I drew back for air and let my hands fall to his shoulders. My God, what was happening here? All my body parts were responding in the right way, but I had the wrong man. Johnny Westmarland was the last one I should be canoodling with.

He was still holding me tight, one hand cupped behind my head and the other on my waist. His lower hand begin to move downwards until it slipped over my hip. Despite myself I gave a little moan of appreciation. The thought of the hand moving farther turned my knees to water

When he heard the moan his lips pressed harder on mine and forced my lips apart, gently yet firmly. Then he slid his tongue inside, stroking my mouth so that I started to feel dizzy with the feelings he was arousing. It made me hot in all those special places, my breasts were tingling and he hadn’t even touched them. I was damp between my legs.

This wasn’t what I had intended at all, at least not with Johnny and not in a dark garden. It had to be time to return to the ladies. I moved back, trying to free myself.

"Just wait one moment," he said. His breath fanned my cheek, making me shiver.

"What–"

He closed my mouth with another kiss but I began to feel a bit uncomfortable. It wasn’t done to go beyond flirting with your best friend’s sister unless your intentions were serious. Johnny had to know that. I pushed harder against his shoulders and freed myself just as two men came by, materializing like battleships out of the darkness.

As they passed I made out the features of the German and the man I thought I recognized.

"Good evening," Johnny said, still holding me tight against him.

The two men nodded in response. The German waved a fat cigar. "You are too early," he said in a heavy accent. "Come back now so we can all play."

With a chuckle he and his companion disappeared along the path.

The thought of playing any kind of game with him gave me the cold shivers, but he was right about one thing. "It’s time to go back inside"

Johnny pulled me towards a stone bench. "Sit down!" he said. "We have to talk."

When I was settled beside him he took hold of my fingers. He stroked the back of my hand seemingly lost in thought, sending more prickles of fire up the nerves. I knew I should pull my hand away, but the sensations were just too delicious. I promised myself I’d make him let go in just a few moments.

"I shouldn’t have done that," he said. "I didn’t mean it to be like that."

Even though I’d been thinking along the same lines, I didn’t like hearing him put it into words. I didn’t quite know what to say, so I said nothing.

"You don’t know anything about the Game, do you?" he said.

"Not all the details, no."

"If you knew the details you wouldn’t be here."

I laughed. "So what do they do? Sacrifice virgins on an altar?’

He looked me right in the eyes. I swallowed. All the times he’d spent part of the school holidays with Billy I had never realized what wonderful eyes he had. They were as blue of the summer sea and his lashes were thick and dark.

"They play a sex game," he said seriously.

I swallowed again. My stomach clenched in anticipation.

He opened his mouth to speak and then fell silent. "I can’t tell you the details," he said at last.

I could have smacked him. "Oh for goodness sake, Johnny. They play Postman’s Knock or Sardines and get a good grope, that’s all." I stood up. "I’m going back inside. It must be time to rejoin the gentlemen."

He took hold of my arm, his face intensely serious. "Take the chair under the portrait of old Lady Ellersby," he said. "Please, I need you to promise."

"Very well, I promise. What is it, Johnny? You’re making me nervous."

"Just be sure you’re in that chair and wait for instructions. Let me see your shoes."

"What on earth for?"

"Just do it."

He bent at the waist and I lifted one foot to humor him. Apparently satisfied he took hold of me again and placed a brotherly kiss on my cheek. "Play it the way I tell you," he said and led me back to the house.

As we climbed the shallow steps onto the stone terrace I had a sudden thought. "What were you doing out there, Johnny? Weren’t you all supposed to be inside sipping your port and brandy?"

Before he could answer me, Lady Ellersby swooped down on us and took my arm. "Come along," she said, "we have to get ready." She waved a hand at Johnny. "The men are waiting for you in the drawing room. Hurry along."

Johnny gave me a meaningful look and turned in the direction she indicated.

Lady Ellersby led me to the dining room. "We’re so pleased to have a fresh face for our little game," she said. "You’re not nervous are you, dear?"

Suddenly I was so nervous that I felt slightly sick. For a moment I considered taking Johnny’s advice and pleading an indisposition. I steeled myself. How bad could it be? I had a job to do, a report to write. How could I hope for my own by-line if I didn’t have the pluck to see this through?

I hesitated at the doorway of the dining room. The lights had been dimmed to almost nothing and the table stripped of all its linen, plates and cutlery. The bare wood reflected some light, and as my eyes adjusted I could make out the shimmer of the ladies’gowns and the glint of expensive jewelry. Ten chairs had been removed and the remaining seats were placed evenly around the table. The air hummed with a suppressed excitement like our nursery just before Christmas when we were little and magic that we couldn’t even imagine was about to happen.

I had no idea why Johnny wanted me to take a particular seat, or why he’d looked at my shoes. For a moment I thought of taking a different chair, but the one under the one under the portrait of old Lady Ellersby, the present Lord’s mother was still vacant, maybe because it was the one farthest from the door and under a window. I decided to do as Johnny said. I smiled with as much confidence as I could muster and made my way to the seat. It.

"Are you sure you want that one?" Lady Ellersby called out.

Immediately all eyes were on me. "Yes, thank you." I cleared my throat. "It’s close to the window in case I need a little air."

"Very well. As you wish." She addressed all the women. "Take your places, ladies, I’m sure the gentlemen are impatient. The servants have all been dismissed for the night, so any preparations for bed will have to be undertaken by you."

There was a knowing titter of laughter around the table.

"I’ll repeat the rules of the Game for the benefit of our new guest." She smiled graciously at me and my stomach clenched even tighter. I wished I’d taken Johnny’s advice.

"The first rule is that no one ever breathes a word of the Game outside this circle. Once in here you are committed to the Game. Anyone who breaks the secret will never appear in decent society again."

My heart sank. Lady Ellersby didn’t have to spell it out for me. I knew what it meant to be ostracized, what vicious rumors could circulate. My poor mother would die of shame. Was I ready to abandon my assignment? Maybe I could make up some excuse and slip out. I might have enough material to cobble a few words together--

"The second rule is that the doors are now closed and I have the key." She waved a large brass key in the air. "Everyone here will play the Game."

Damn.

"The third rule is that you spend the night with the man who provokes you to a reaction, no ifs, ands or buts. So if you have your sights set on a certain gentleman, steel yourselves until he gets around to you! It’s much more fun to see how long you can hold out!"

The ladies all laughed merrily and exchanged little comments.

Reaction? My heart began to thud in my chest as a fuller understanding of the Game began to seep into my stupid head. Johnny was right. What in the name of everything was I doing here?

"The last rule is that any sound you make while the Game is being played is counted as a reaction. So don’t cough, yawn or sniffle while we are in session."

The Game was nothing like I had imagined. I’d had no idea it would include everyone of the guests. I’d been full of confidence when I thought I would pick my companion, but suddenly I found I wasn’t quite so keen on an adventure after all. How would I know the difference between Red Cummerbund or Johnny and the fat German?

"Tomorrow night is ladies’ choice," our hostess continued merrily. "So we ladies will have a second chance to get our prey." More laughter. My eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting and I could make out more details of the ladies close to me. A couple of them wore a smile like a cat contemplating a bowl of cream.

"One more thing. Everyone take off their shoes!" She wagged her finger at Emma. "A little bird tells me that some of you have hopes a special someone will recognize your footwear. Everyone is equal in this game."

Emma pouted prettily, showing her full lower lip. There was a flush on her cheeks, emphasizing her large, dark eyes. I scanned the room. All the women had a high colour and shifted restlessly in their chairs. It was suddenly very warm.

There was a rustle and flurry of movement as we all slipped off our evening sandals. I pulled my toes from my shoes and left them as close to my feet as I dared. Where was Johnny? Was he with the other men? It was clear now why he’d wanted to get rid of me. He’d come to this weekend looking forward to spending most of it in bed with one of these women, not expecting to meet his friend’s sister. When I wouldn’t leave he’d decided to set his sights on me... The kisses had just been to soften me up, or frighten me away. Either would work for him. Even so, I liked the idea of leaving this room with Johnny more than I liked Mr. Piano or Sir James.

Lady Ellersby took her place in the one empty chair and clapped her hands loudly. "Let the Game begin," she called.

Immediately the door opened, and a dark shape slipped into the room.

Billy always says I’m a ninny and hopelessly naive, and he’s right because somehow I still hadn’t really connected the shoes and all the other instructions. When the dark shape revealed itself as a man wearing a mask, I understood completely. He ducked under the table. I sat rigid with apprehension as he settled himself. I felt cold as well as sick. That was why Johnny had looked at my shoes. How would he recognize me now?

The silence lasted for endless minutes while the man shuffled around the ladies’ feet. I tried to keep track of where he must be, but the women now wore frozen expressions. Then a hand touched my foot. Fingers crept up my shin. All my muscles tensed even more and I bit my lip so as not to make a sound. The hand probed higher on my thigh and I clenched my knees together. Something must have worked, because the fingers disappeared and I soon heard a muffled moan from my right. A blonde woman in a silver sheath dress rose to her feet and Lady Ellersby unlocked the door.

Other hands rose up my leg and tried to prise open my thighs. I resisted with all my might, but persistent fingers succeeded in finding their way up my skirt and touched my black silk underwear. I nearly shot out of my chair. Heaven only knows how I refrained from making a noise. My God, how many more of these? When Johnny came round, as I was sure he would, how would I know it was him? What would he do to me to make me utter the sounds everyone listened for?

After the first pairing things went quickly. The women grew visibly more restless and five more departed the group after each new man entered the fray. It was like the Christians and the Lions, except the Christians were more than willing.

I felt the weight of a man beside my legs, and hands slid over my lap, rubbing my hips and the tops of my thighs. I bit my lip, terrified that I’d make a sound that could be interpreted as a moan of pleasure. After a moment, the hands left me and I sensed the man’s bulk shift to the woman next to me. Her breathing came faster and shallower and she tensed in her chair. Just as she let out a long sigh I was besieged by more groping fingers.

My back began to ache from the tension in my muscles. Despite myself, the probing fingers were having their effect. At first they had only touched my knickers, but soon a hand slid higher and slipped under the silk. I felt a gentle pressure on the moist flesh between my legs and bit my lip. A throb started deep in my abdomen and spread as the caresses stroked that special little spot that seemed to swell and grow more sensitive with every touch. When only four of us were left, there was more chance for each of the new men to test me. It was growing harder not to move and gasp as the fingers tried to reach further. My thighs relaxed ever so slightly and immediately a finger wriggled its way between my pulsating lips and slid to the opening where the ache was centered. I closed my eyes and tried to think of something cold and unpleasant, terrified of having to leave with Sir James or the German.

Johnny hadn’t appeared. Or had he? Had he already been under that table and born off the delectable Emma, leaving me to whoever was left?

A tension headache began to throb behind my eyes. How could my fine assignment and my frivolous decision to lose my virginity have turned into this fiasco? I wanted to go home. Why hadn’t I taken Johnny’s car and left while the going was good?

At last only one other woman and I were left. The masked man dropped under the table and I waited, hardly daring to breathe. Within thirty seconds a new hand grasped my foot. A finger drummed out a tattoo on my ankle bone. Through the fog of my misery I forced myself to think. S-O-S in Morse code. That had to be Johnny! We’d learned the code one summer and driven my mother wild tapping out messages on our water glasses at dinner. I let out a gasp of relief which qualified me to leave the room in the company of my bed partner. The man slid from under the table, and I led him from the room.

Although I was pretty sure it was Johnny, I paused at the bottom of the stairs in a frenzy of impatience until he ripped off his mask. Thank God it was Johnny’s eyes that stared back at me. I let out a sigh of relief and put my hand on his arm, ready for another of his sizzling kisses. He’d given up a chance at a night of joyous abandon with a willing female and I wanted him to know I understood.

But he wasn’t smiling and he certainly wasn’t kissing. He grabbed my arm and propelled me towards the staircase. I stumbled after him, wrenching my arm free.

"I’ll go back to my own room," I said quietly as we climbed the wide, curving stairs to the next floor. "You can go to yours."

Johnny paused on the landing. "You haven’t understood yet, have you?" he said just loud enough for me to hear. "The men’s rooms are all locked. I’ll be spending the night with you."

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