The Stallion by Georgina Brown Page B

Perhaps they’d been high-street butchers who were suddenly landed with the privilege of supplying Queen Victoria with pork sausages. It didn’t matter. Now, he was an Honourable, and he looked it. He had a look of class about him: thick-lipped with a head-boy type of face and a hairstyle that sat firmly on the fence between fashion and conformity, yet flopped over his forehead. His clothes straddled the same fence. Not too formal, not too fashionable: white shirt; neat tie; neat jacket; neat, sharp-pleated trousers; polished black shoes. Everything about him was neat, correct, pleated and polished. Public school, she decided. She’d met others like him, men who found it impossible to shake off the residue of a rigid regime that had moulded them into a pre-set shape. It was as if they’d originally been made of jelly and now were cast in bronze.
    He looked nice enough, but, although he surveyed her dark hair, her open expression and her gaping neckline, she was surprised and a mite disappointed when his eyes did not linger.
    Fragments of conversation filtered into Penny’s mind as she drank more wine, which was smooth on her tongue and mellow in her head. On top of that, the newness of everything, the excitement of it all and the experience of her dining-table orgasm had lightened her mind even more. Eager to learn and perhaps experience more, she continued to survey those at the table, her dark lashes sweeping her cheeks as her eyes flickered from one guest to another along with the conversation.
    Sir Reginald fondled her knee each time he spoke to her. There was something strangely protective about his fondling, as though he were trying to put her at ease and to make her feel at home. She let him, and tried her best to let Alistair know that she was letting him. After all, there was still the wager to consider, though gradually she was becoming fascinated with this close group of people who had accepted her so easily and so completely.
    For the moment, her massage with the blond angel was forgotten, though if nothing further came off tonight, she would need him again, if only to ease her aching libido with his flexible fingers. Though she would of course prefer his rampant cock.
    But Gregory was not here. Alistair was. She caught him looking at her once or twice. It was a guilty look, as though he were a small boy and had been caught stealing from a sweet shop. So far, she thought to herself, Alistair had disappointed her.
    Adopting an air of indifference to hide that disappointment, she let her eyes study the other diners whilst her mind weighed up each one.
    Sir Reggie was sweet, debonair and highly attractive. She imagined that having sex with him would be a very professional experience. During his life, he would have known many women, would have indulged most readily in every conceivable practice and with every conceivable age, colour and creed of woman. Sir Reggie had been in the army. Sir Reggie had travelled.
    Auberon seemed the height of politeness, the warmth between them like one old schoolmate to another whenever he included her in his conversation. There was no strange guilt in his look like there was with Alistair. His colouring and flickering eyelids came more from shyness than guilt. Of course, she still couldn’t quite work out what Alistair had to be guilty about.
    Nadine was the most intense watcher. Each time Penny chanced to look in her direction, Nadine was staring back at her over the top of her wineglass and, although Alistair dominated the conversation with his talk of mergers, expansion and then the world of equestrianism, she had a distinct impression his sister might be more powerful than him.
    Watching and wondering about her fellow diners ignited new excitement in Penny’s loins. The actions and the scenes she envisaged for each of these people were only in her mind at present, yet she knew that what could be fantasised could also be turned into fact.
    As she sipped her wine, she imagined