Read Online Stephanie's Trial by Susanna Hughes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susanna Hughes
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intrigued.
Stephanie
finished her second cup of espresso and made the universal sign for
the bill - pretending to write with one hand on the palm of the
other - to a distant waiter who nodded and disappeared through the
kitchen entrance.
'I will buy
the lunch please,' he said quietly.
'No, let
me.'
'This is a new
experience for me.'
'Then perhaps
we are both in for new experiences this afternoon,' Stephanie said
as she dropped a credit card onto the plate on which the bill was
neatly folded.
They left the
hotel together. Stephanie's chauffeur was waiting with the rear
passenger door open. He must have spotted her walking down the
corridor towards the revolving doors. Kanjii also had a chauffeur,
who stood by a smart claret-red Bentley. He dismissed him with a
wave of his hand and they both climbed into the Cadillac. Kanjii
gave the chauffeur his address, an apartment building in Lowndes
Square, and the big car headed off down Piccadilly.
The journey
took no more than ten minutes and they both said very little,
Stephanie wondering what on earth she had let herself in for and
feeling a distinctly pleasant sensation in anticipation. Kanjii
contented himself with looking at her knees, clad in ultra-sheer
nylon, with a slightly creamy colouring to match the dress.
The doorman at
the building opened the Cadillac door almost before the car had
come to a standstill. 'Afternoon, sir,' he said, saluting with his
other hand.
'Afternoon,
George,' Kanjii said, leading the way up a short flight of steps
and holding open a large panelled door for Stephanie to enter.
The entrance
hall of the building was luxurious, suggesting the cost of the
flats it contained. Speckled granite in an orangey black formed the
floor with the walls lined in a light peachy silk. A modern
stainless steel lift stood opposite the entrance doors. Between the
two a fake gas fire burned brightly in a fire-surround made from
another and contrasting slab of granite.
They took the
lift to the top floor. The lift doors opened to reveal a short
passageway with only one door.
'You have the
whole floor?'
'I need the
space,' Kanjii said, punching numbers into a combination lock on
the doorjamb. The door sprang open.
Kanjii led the
way down a long wide hall decorated with small framed Japanese
tapestries, into the living room. One side of the room was made
entirely of glass and beyond it was, as promised, a spectacular
view over the rooftops of London. Stephanie went to the window and
stared. On the street below she could see the black Cadillac parked
outside the building, the chauffeur leaning against the bonnet
talking to the doorman. She suspected he was going to have a long
wait.
'So here we
are,' she said. 'You were right about the view.'
It was a
spectacular apartment too, with absolutely no expense spared. The
furnishings were sparse but every item, from the huge white silk
sofas to the modern black lacquered cabinets, were superb examples
of craftsmanship. Not all the paintings, as with the decorations in
the hall, were Japanese or even oriental. But all the Western art
was post-impressionist. Stephanie recognised a Rothko and a
Miro.
'Would you
like another drink?' he asked.
'No, I don't
think I would.'
'That is
good.'
'So what
happens now?' She sat on one of the white sofas and crossed her
legs. She watched Kanjii's eyes follow the movement with
interest.
'That is up to
you.'
'Is it?'
'You are
interested in the geisha experience?'
'Yes, but
we're a long way from Japan.'
'I adopt many
European ways. But I also like to have something of my country
always with me. I am a rich man. I can afford what for some men,
certainly men in Japan, would be only a dream.'
'Geishas?'
'Precisely
so.'
'Here? In your
penthouse?'
'If you wish,
please come with me.' He indicated a door at the far end of the
room. 'You do wish, I think.'
Stephanie got
to her feet with no hesitation. Kanjii led her to the door, then
opened it and stood aside for her to enter.
Stephanie
finished her second cup of espresso and made the universal sign for
the bill - pretending to write with one hand on the palm of the
other - to a distant waiter who nodded and disappeared through the
kitchen entrance.
'I will buy
the lunch please,' he said quietly.
'No, let
me.'
'This is a new
experience for me.'
'Then perhaps
we are both in for new experiences this afternoon,' Stephanie said
as she dropped a credit card onto the plate on which the bill was
neatly folded.
They left the
hotel together. Stephanie's chauffeur was waiting with the rear
passenger door open. He must have spotted her walking down the
corridor towards the revolving doors. Kanjii also had a chauffeur,
who stood by a smart claret-red Bentley. He dismissed him with a
wave of his hand and they both climbed into the Cadillac. Kanjii
gave the chauffeur his address, an apartment building in Lowndes
Square, and the big car headed off down Piccadilly.
The journey
took no more than ten minutes and they both said very little,
Stephanie wondering what on earth she had let herself in for and
feeling a distinctly pleasant sensation in anticipation. Kanjii
contented himself with looking at her knees, clad in ultra-sheer
nylon, with a slightly creamy colouring to match the dress.
The doorman at
the building opened the Cadillac door almost before the car had
come to a standstill. 'Afternoon, sir,' he said, saluting with his
other hand.
'Afternoon,
George,' Kanjii said, leading the way up a short flight of steps
and holding open a large panelled door for Stephanie to enter.
The entrance
hall of the building was luxurious, suggesting the cost of the
flats it contained. Speckled granite in an orangey black formed the
floor with the walls lined in a light peachy silk. A modern
stainless steel lift stood opposite the entrance doors. Between the
two a fake gas fire burned brightly in a fire-surround made from
another and contrasting slab of granite.
They took the
lift to the top floor. The lift doors opened to reveal a short
passageway with only one door.
'You have the
whole floor?'
'I need the
space,' Kanjii said, punching numbers into a combination lock on
the doorjamb. The door sprang open.
Kanjii led the
way down a long wide hall decorated with small framed Japanese
tapestries, into the living room. One side of the room was made
entirely of glass and beyond it was, as promised, a spectacular
view over the rooftops of London. Stephanie went to the window and
stared. On the street below she could see the black Cadillac parked
outside the building, the chauffeur leaning against the bonnet
talking to the doorman. She suspected he was going to have a long
wait.
'So here we
are,' she said. 'You were right about the view.'
It was a
spectacular apartment too, with absolutely no expense spared. The
furnishings were sparse but every item, from the huge white silk
sofas to the modern black lacquered cabinets, were superb examples
of craftsmanship. Not all the paintings, as with the decorations in
the hall, were Japanese or even oriental. But all the Western art
was post-impressionist. Stephanie recognised a Rothko and a
Miro.
'Would you
like another drink?' he asked.
'No, I don't
think I would.'
'That is
good.'
'So what
happens now?' She sat on one of the white sofas and crossed her
legs. She watched Kanjii's eyes follow the movement with
interest.
'That is up to
you.'
'Is it?'
'You are
interested in the geisha experience?'
'Yes, but
we're a long way from Japan.'
'I adopt many
European ways. But I also like to have something of my country
always with me. I am a rich man. I can afford what for some men,
certainly men in Japan, would be only a dream.'
'Geishas?'
'Precisely
so.'
'Here? In your
penthouse?'
'If you wish,
please come with me.' He indicated a door at the far end of the
room. 'You do wish, I think.'
Stephanie got
to her feet with no hesitation. Kanjii led her to the door, then
opened it and stood aside for her to enter.
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