Read Online The Ninety Days of Genevieve by Lucinda Carrington - Free Book Online
Authors: Lucinda Carrington
Tags: Erótica, Literature & Fiction
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worked out far better than I hoped. Obviously Lucci are courting Sinclair too. That would certainly imply that he's serious about changing agencies.' He paused. 'It also means that you've got Miss Chalfont as a rival.'
A rival? The words haunted Genevieve for the rest of the day and into the weekend. She knew that George Fuller-ton was talking about business rivalry, but she could not help wondering if Miss Jade Chalfont was also going to be a sexual rival as well. Had Sinclair offered her an agreement too? Was he going to compare performances? Had he sent her a box of clothes too, and a curt note to get used to them ? Had she been obliged to dress up to please him, or did he arrange some other kind of fantasy for her?
Genevieve knew she was being ridiculous. She had no proof that Sinclair was interested in Jade Chalfont as anything other than a business contact. The fact that she had kissed him meant nothing. She was obviously a touchy-feely kind of woman. She probably kissed everyone she met.
On Sunday afternoon Genevieve laid the clothes Sinclair had sent her out on the bed. Unfortunately the black high-heeled shoes once again reminded her of Jade Chalfont. She banished the thought. What was more important was to decide whether she really could walk outside dressed in this micro-skirt and plunge-neck blouse.
It was only a short journey from her apartment door to the street, and then she assumed that she would just have to walk to Sinclair's car. It was also true that most of her neighbours had gone to their country cottages for the weekend, but how would she feel if someone did appear unexpectedly and recognised her?
Her apprehension disappeared after she had applied the make-up. She stared at herself in the mirror. With her eyes darkly outlined and heavy with mascara, and wearing the bright-red lipstick, she had completely altered her appearance. When she loosened her hair and put on the clothes the transformation was complete.
She had not tried them on before because she had not had time. Apart from her first attempt at balancing she had not tried the shoes on either. Now she realised that the skirt was even shorter than she had first believed. It barely skimmed her crotch. And the blouse was too small. It tugged across her breasts with the buttons pulling and her nipples showing clearly through the thin material. She looked like a hooker. No-one would ever recognise her. She could not believe that a change of make-up and these tarty clothes would make such an instant difference.
She put on the shoes and stood up. Despite the fact that the shoes were obviously meant to restrict her to tiny steps, and curtail her freedom, there was something about their overtly sexy design that made her feel strangely powerful. It was as if by trying to control her they actually captured and controlled the men who enjoyed looking at them.
She practised walking and realised that if you altered the way you moved it was not too difficult to strut about in the raunchy but uncomfortable heels. Her main problem was not balancing or walking but preventing the skirt from riding up with each step she took until both the curving underside of her bottom and the golden triangle of her pubic hair were clearly visible.
She hoped she would not have to walk far. Just to the car would do fine. She had no doubt that Sinclair would be picking her up by car and that wherever he was taking her, whatever he had planned for her, it would be indoors. He surely could not expect her to go out on the street dressed like a this?
She heard the powerful sound of an engine and went over to the window. A massive black and chrome motorcycle pulled up to the kerb. The rider was clothed from head to foot in tight, black leathers, a space-style helmet with a dark visor covering his head. He carried a similar helmet under his arm. She tried to persuade herself that this was a stranger waiting for someone else. In a minute he would mount his machine and ride
A rival? The words haunted Genevieve for the rest of the day and into the weekend. She knew that George Fuller-ton was talking about business rivalry, but she could not help wondering if Miss Jade Chalfont was also going to be a sexual rival as well. Had Sinclair offered her an agreement too? Was he going to compare performances? Had he sent her a box of clothes too, and a curt note to get used to them ? Had she been obliged to dress up to please him, or did he arrange some other kind of fantasy for her?
Genevieve knew she was being ridiculous. She had no proof that Sinclair was interested in Jade Chalfont as anything other than a business contact. The fact that she had kissed him meant nothing. She was obviously a touchy-feely kind of woman. She probably kissed everyone she met.
On Sunday afternoon Genevieve laid the clothes Sinclair had sent her out on the bed. Unfortunately the black high-heeled shoes once again reminded her of Jade Chalfont. She banished the thought. What was more important was to decide whether she really could walk outside dressed in this micro-skirt and plunge-neck blouse.
It was only a short journey from her apartment door to the street, and then she assumed that she would just have to walk to Sinclair's car. It was also true that most of her neighbours had gone to their country cottages for the weekend, but how would she feel if someone did appear unexpectedly and recognised her?
Her apprehension disappeared after she had applied the make-up. She stared at herself in the mirror. With her eyes darkly outlined and heavy with mascara, and wearing the bright-red lipstick, she had completely altered her appearance. When she loosened her hair and put on the clothes the transformation was complete.
She had not tried them on before because she had not had time. Apart from her first attempt at balancing she had not tried the shoes on either. Now she realised that the skirt was even shorter than she had first believed. It barely skimmed her crotch. And the blouse was too small. It tugged across her breasts with the buttons pulling and her nipples showing clearly through the thin material. She looked like a hooker. No-one would ever recognise her. She could not believe that a change of make-up and these tarty clothes would make such an instant difference.
She put on the shoes and stood up. Despite the fact that the shoes were obviously meant to restrict her to tiny steps, and curtail her freedom, there was something about their overtly sexy design that made her feel strangely powerful. It was as if by trying to control her they actually captured and controlled the men who enjoyed looking at them.
She practised walking and realised that if you altered the way you moved it was not too difficult to strut about in the raunchy but uncomfortable heels. Her main problem was not balancing or walking but preventing the skirt from riding up with each step she took until both the curving underside of her bottom and the golden triangle of her pubic hair were clearly visible.
She hoped she would not have to walk far. Just to the car would do fine. She had no doubt that Sinclair would be picking her up by car and that wherever he was taking her, whatever he had planned for her, it would be indoors. He surely could not expect her to go out on the street dressed like a this?
She heard the powerful sound of an engine and went over to the window. A massive black and chrome motorcycle pulled up to the kerb. The rider was clothed from head to foot in tight, black leathers, a space-style helmet with a dark visor covering his head. He carried a similar helmet under his arm. She tried to persuade herself that this was a stranger waiting for someone else. In a minute he would mount his machine and ride
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