recognizing something
her eyes had failed to do. A hungry ache arose in her pussy as
though she had been starved for ages, and a feast was being set
before her. A shiver streaked down her spine, and not just because
of one night in the Railway Hotel. A few days after that meeting,
she had seen his face smiling out from a photograph on the front
page of a newspaper, and realized who he was.
Now, she
pretended otherwise. Her two-pronged life was too precious to
surrender recognition to a man - any man.
'The MP! Of
course. I'm very pleased to meet you. My name's Abigail
Corrigan.'
'I know.' He
smiled. His teeth were very white, very noticeable against his
tanned skin. Small wrinkles of something like amusement played
around his eyes. 'I understand you're a superstar in the legal
world. A real performer. Are you the same in private?'
His comment
threw her off balance. Despite knowing him more intimately in the
guise of Carmel, she had, as usual, been preparing to talk law. As
he sat down beside her, his thigh hard against hers, she became
wary, and determined to throw him off the scent. She tore her eyes
from him, stared out of the window towards the rolling lawns and
clusters of maple, birch, and beech, but saw absolutely nothing.
Her voice remained even.
'I have worked
hard for success, Mr Sigmund. I swore I would make it despite my
sex, and I have made it. I have achieved exactly what I wanted to
achieve.'
'In your
public life?'
'Yes.'
'And what
about your private life? Have you achieved everything you wanted in
that?'
She thought of
snapping a suitably tart reply about him minding his own business,
but some echo of her other life caused her to temper her
response.
'I am happy,
Mr Sigmund. Happy in my work. In fact, I am completely engrossed in
my work. I have little time left for a private life. My career is
very important to me.'
'Regardless of
sacrifice?'
She turned to
look at him, her chin high as she did her best to adopt an
expression of cold detachment. Usually, it was easy. With him, it
was difficult.
He was resting
his elbow on his knee, his chin in his hand. His eyes were so warm,
his smile so knowing. It was as if he were daring her to tell the
truth. But the truth was hers and she was keeping it. She took a
deep breath before she replied.
'Sacrifice of
what? My life is my work.'
'So you gave
your sex and your sexuality the old heave-ho, is that right?'
'We all have
choices to make, Mr Sigmund.' Her voice was tart.
He smiled.
'Stephen. Call me Stephen.'
'We all have
choices to make. I made mine. If I wanted to get to the top,
relationships had to take a back seat.'
'That doesn't
mean sex has to take a back seat too.'
Aware that her
jaw had dropped, she stared at him. For someone who was a Member of
Parliament, he was being very unguarded in what he was saying. How
could he be sure she wouldn't betray his words to the carnivores of
the tabloid press?
'What makes
you so sure that I have no sex life?'
'Your
colleagues call you the Snow Queen.'
Abigail
refused to be ruffled. This name was not unknown to her. In fact,
she quite liked it. Scorned women resort to fury; scorned men to
malicious sarcasm.
'It is of no
consequence to me, Mr Sigmund. As I have explained, the law is my
life. I am devoted to it, and I expect everyone I work with to
adhere to its principles and disciplines just as I do. Besides
which, my sex life is my own affair.'
She made as if
to rise and leave him. To her astonishment, he gripped her arm and
ordered her to sit down. To her further amazement, she obeyed.
Vaguely, she was aware of a warm tingle running up her arm and
across her breasts. His lips were near her cheek. She could see his
eyes from the corner of her own. His breath was warm, and his close
proximity made her want him. His voice moved her.
'You like
giving orders, don't you, Abigail Corrigan? You like laying down
the law to everyone else, using your sharp words and your
convoluted arguments to persuade a jury
her eyes had failed to do. A hungry ache arose in her pussy as
though she had been starved for ages, and a feast was being set
before her. A shiver streaked down her spine, and not just because
of one night in the Railway Hotel. A few days after that meeting,
she had seen his face smiling out from a photograph on the front
page of a newspaper, and realized who he was.
Now, she
pretended otherwise. Her two-pronged life was too precious to
surrender recognition to a man - any man.
'The MP! Of
course. I'm very pleased to meet you. My name's Abigail
Corrigan.'
'I know.' He
smiled. His teeth were very white, very noticeable against his
tanned skin. Small wrinkles of something like amusement played
around his eyes. 'I understand you're a superstar in the legal
world. A real performer. Are you the same in private?'
His comment
threw her off balance. Despite knowing him more intimately in the
guise of Carmel, she had, as usual, been preparing to talk law. As
he sat down beside her, his thigh hard against hers, she became
wary, and determined to throw him off the scent. She tore her eyes
from him, stared out of the window towards the rolling lawns and
clusters of maple, birch, and beech, but saw absolutely nothing.
Her voice remained even.
'I have worked
hard for success, Mr Sigmund. I swore I would make it despite my
sex, and I have made it. I have achieved exactly what I wanted to
achieve.'
'In your
public life?'
'Yes.'
'And what
about your private life? Have you achieved everything you wanted in
that?'
She thought of
snapping a suitably tart reply about him minding his own business,
but some echo of her other life caused her to temper her
response.
'I am happy,
Mr Sigmund. Happy in my work. In fact, I am completely engrossed in
my work. I have little time left for a private life. My career is
very important to me.'
'Regardless of
sacrifice?'
She turned to
look at him, her chin high as she did her best to adopt an
expression of cold detachment. Usually, it was easy. With him, it
was difficult.
He was resting
his elbow on his knee, his chin in his hand. His eyes were so warm,
his smile so knowing. It was as if he were daring her to tell the
truth. But the truth was hers and she was keeping it. She took a
deep breath before she replied.
'Sacrifice of
what? My life is my work.'
'So you gave
your sex and your sexuality the old heave-ho, is that right?'
'We all have
choices to make, Mr Sigmund.' Her voice was tart.
He smiled.
'Stephen. Call me Stephen.'
'We all have
choices to make. I made mine. If I wanted to get to the top,
relationships had to take a back seat.'
'That doesn't
mean sex has to take a back seat too.'
Aware that her
jaw had dropped, she stared at him. For someone who was a Member of
Parliament, he was being very unguarded in what he was saying. How
could he be sure she wouldn't betray his words to the carnivores of
the tabloid press?
'What makes
you so sure that I have no sex life?'
'Your
colleagues call you the Snow Queen.'
Abigail
refused to be ruffled. This name was not unknown to her. In fact,
she quite liked it. Scorned women resort to fury; scorned men to
malicious sarcasm.
'It is of no
consequence to me, Mr Sigmund. As I have explained, the law is my
life. I am devoted to it, and I expect everyone I work with to
adhere to its principles and disciplines just as I do. Besides
which, my sex life is my own affair.'
She made as if
to rise and leave him. To her astonishment, he gripped her arm and
ordered her to sit down. To her further amazement, she obeyed.
Vaguely, she was aware of a warm tingle running up her arm and
across her breasts. His lips were near her cheek. She could see his
eyes from the corner of her own. His breath was warm, and his close
proximity made her want him. His voice moved her.
'You like
giving orders, don't you, Abigail Corrigan? You like laying down
the law to everyone else, using your sharp words and your
convoluted arguments to persuade a jury
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