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I snuffed out the candle, and the subject was dropped. Little did I know that in the coming days, Rose’s time in the woods proved to give her the strength and determination to deal with a situation very different from my own.
Chapter 17
How do I get myself into these situations? I wondered. Do I have ‘gullible’ written on my forehead in invisible ink?
At this point in time, Jeremy was undressing and expecting me to come back from the bathroom, ready for a session of horseplay—and I was to be the horse.
The ‘artefact’ had turned out to be a tortoiseshell-handled riding whip. Surprise, surprise. My life was starting to mirror Mercy’s to the point I could practically predict what was going to happen to me.
‘Circa 1740 to 1750,’ Jeremy had said when he’d brought it out from his top dresser drawer. ‘Look at the workmanship.’ He’d turned it over in his hand, showing me. The silver mount had a Rococo scroll and flowers.
‘It’s a lovely piece,’ I’d said politely (naively, as it turned out).
‘Yes, I thought we could have a bit of fun with it.’
‘Huh?’
‘You know.’ He’d reached around and tapped me lightly on the behind, and I’d drawn a sharp breath. Taking my shocked silence for excitement, he’d started unbuttoning his shirt. I’d muttered an excuse about needing the loo and scuttled off down the hallway, nearly breaking my ankle when I’d kicked over a pile of old newspapers.
Standing in the middle of his grimy bathroom (I was right—the toilet needed serious disinfecting before I could be enticed to use it), I hovered on the fence.
Apart from the fact that Jeremy’s bedroom was as unkempt as the rest of his house, expecting me to frolic around naked while he whipped my backside was taking things a bit far. But then again, if I turned him down flat, he probably wouldn’t offer any kind of intimacy again. This could be my first and only date with him.
I had no idea what to do.
Fuck it.
I rang Thomas before I could chicken out. It was either him or Isabel, and I knew she’d laugh more than offer helpful advice.
He answered on the second ring. ‘Hey! What’s up?’
‘I need some help,’ I said in a low whisper, tucking my chin into my chest so my voice wouldn’t carry.
‘What’s going on? Where are you?’ Thomas asked, his tone laced with concern.
‘Bathroom. Slight problem. Jeremy wants to whip me with his eighteenth-century riding crop.’
There was a crackle as the mouthpiece was covered, but I could still hear the sound of muffled chortling.
‘It’s not funny! I need advice!’
Thomas came back on the line after a few seconds. ‘Well, the question is, do you want to get neigh-ked with him?’ His voice brimmed with mirth. ‘You just have to say yay or neigh.’ He made a whinnying noise, but I was in no mood for jokes.
‘Thomas! Honestly, this is serious. What should I do?’ I paced around in my heels, trying to keep away from a grubby-looking towel that had been left strewn on the floor to fester.
‘Sorry, I couldn’t help it. Look, the fact that he’s wanting to role-play is a good thing, right?’
‘No!’ I hissed. ‘It’s moving too fast. I need to work up to that sort of stuff.’
‘You seemed fine with the vibrator ...’
‘That was different. I’d had a few drinks, and it just sort of progressed naturally. I can’t go from drinking a cup of tea in the kitchen to being whipped in the bedroom five minutes later.’
‘Ah. Well, you best take control of the situation then. Try to slow things down so you feel more comfortable.’
‘How?’
‘Maybe give him a massage.’
