Read The Finest Line Online

Authors: Catherine Taylor

Tags: #Love, #Drama, #discipline, #spanking, #New Zealand, #masochism, #pole dancing

The Finest Line (6 page)

Her appetite had returned and
she began to look at the food stalls to discover whatever her body
was yearning for. After a long time of bad eating, fresh fruit
looked extremely desirable.

A helpful Italian vendor
produced a carton which Mairead began to fill with strawberries,
blueberries, apples and grapes. The vendor advised her of each
fruit in season and constantly popped morsels in her mouth to
taste.

He showed her a box of cherries
and declared with a deeply passionate face. “Best season in many,
many year and each one so big and juicy and tasty.”

Mairead grinned as she looked at
them. There were so many different shades, from bright red to
almost black.” She selected a dark one and held it up to James.

“Gosh James,” Mairead spoke out
loud, feigning disappointment. “Is this the colour you had in mind
when you threatened to beat my arse? That’s kind of brutal.”

The vendor gave James a worried
glance and took hold of Mairead’s hand. “Come and I will pack this
together for you.”

She went with him, grinning back
at James whose brow was narrowed in a frown, “Is there anything you
would like James, a lemon perhaps or some sour grapes?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Mairead paid for her purchases
and the vendor added a plastic fork and a little tub of chocolate
dipping sauce to the box.

“For a beautiful lady,” The
vendor beamed. “Enjoy, enjoy.” He leaned in close to her. “Is
everything alright?”

She smiled. “Everything is
fine.”

When she returned to James he
took her arm and led her away, leaning down to speak into her ear.
“Don’t do that again or your question might just be answered.”

Butterflies danced in her
stomach and she knew it was not from hunger. Her curiosity was
growing with his threats. She blushed deeply as she felt the
stirrings between her legs and wished that she did not have this
unnatural interest.

They found a lawn area where
other people were enjoying picnics and children were running about.
Nearby a band was playing Celtic music.

Mairead sat down on the grass
and looked up at James. “Are you going to sit down or hover over
me?”

James sat down and surveyed the
area around them whilst Mairead eagerly ripped the seal from the
tub of chocolate sauce. She pushed the fruit box towards James.
“Dig in.”

“Breakfast was quite sufficient,
thank you Miss Kavanagh.”

Mairead smiled. “You know James;
I really like it when on the very rare occasion you call me
Mairead, even though it’s usually when you’re telling me off.”

“Using first names denotes a
familiarity and I do try to maintain professionalism at all
times.”

Mairead laughed loudly. “I think
you’ve already crossed that line of familiarity on one or two
occasions.”

James sighed. “Yes. You do seem
to be able to stimulate my temperament somewhat... Miss
Kavanagh.”

“Do I now... Mr. Vaughn?”

James shook his head. “Don’t do
that.”

“Do what Mr. Vaughn?” Mairead
looked bewildered.

James expelled a very long
breath. “Mairead, if you would kindly eat your lunch so that we may
depart soon I would be most obliged. I have several arrangements to
make for our travel and some of your belongings still to collect
and that must all be done this afternoon.”

“Of course James,” Mairead
beamed. “Mairead is definitely more co-operative than Miss
Kavanagh.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” James
had spoken quietly with his face turned away from her but Mairead
heard and promptly popped up strawberry into her mouth to suppress
a giggle.

On the return to the car,
Mairead continued to stop at stalls as interesting items caught her
eye. James waited patiently but walked faster each time she was
ready to move on.

She was surprised when it was
James that stopped at a marquee where a variety of antiques and
bric-a-brac was displayed.

“Do you like old stuff James?”
Mairead asked.

“I appreciate a time when things
were made with precision and craft, hence the fact that they are
still around today.” James took several minutes to look at a
writing desk, running his hands along the wood and the carved
inlays of grapevines and inspecting the dove tail joints on the
drawers.

The vendor was an old man in a
tweed suit and bow tie and he joined James at the desk. Mairead
sighed when she saw them begin to talk and busied herself by
looking at some pretty tea cups and porcelain figurines on display.
When she looked back, she saw James paying for something, still
chatting with the vendor who was looking very happy.

Finally James shook hands with
the old man, collected a bag from him and rejoined Mairead.

“What did you buy?” Mairead
asked.

“I arranged for that desk to be
shipped to New Zealand.”

“But it’s old,” Mairead was
confused.

“Yes it is, seventeenth century
in fact.”

Mairead looked at the bag in
James’ hand. “And what’s in there?”

James passed her the bag and
Mairead reached in and drew out a hairbrush. It had a brass ornate
handle which led to a wide brush, the bristles yellow with age.
Mairead thought it ugly until she turned it over and saw the pretty
little pink roses on a white surface. She tapped it and found it to
be very hard.

“Is that ivory?”

James shook his head. “Guilloche
enamelling, a process no longer used today.”

“You’re not going to brush your
hair with it, are you?”

“It’s a gift for a friend.”

Mairead frowned. The friend was
undoubtedly female and she had never really thought of James being
with women. He was always with Mairead and her father, though she
knew James took every second weekend off and was away for two weeks
at Christmas. It didn’t seem enough time to have any female
friends.

She posed her question casually,
“Is she your girlfriend?”

He shook his head and smirked,
“No, but she is my dearest friend and I care for her very
much.”

Mairead looked up at James. It
bothered her somewhat that he had this woman with whom he
socialised and had fun with, rather than this silly girl that he
was paid to drive around and keep out of trouble.

“I suppose you two hang out on
your days off?”

James shook his head. “Vanessa
lives in England and I haven’t seen her for quite a while. However,
I have arranged two weeks leave when we return to New Zealand.
Vanessa is coming over and we’re meeting up in Wellington.”

Mairead smiled thinly. “Sounds
like you’ll have a great time.”

“I’m quite looking forward to
it.”

By the time they reached the
car, Mairead’s cheerfulness had dulled. Thinking over the day, the
breakfast they had shared and their time at the market, it no
longer seemed so wonderful. James had a friend with whom he shared
real good times and didn’t maintain a professional exterior.

With Mairead, James was doing
what he was paid to do. Admittedly, his care of her sometimes went
beyond the call of duty, but in the end Mairead had to look at it
for what it was.

There was a reason he preferred
to call her by her surname, why he had never shared a meal with her
and why his conversation was always brief and to the point. She was
the boss’s daughter and he was her certified minder and chauffeur,
and in James’ mind, their relationship extended no further.

CHAPTER SIX

When they got back to the hotel,
James was busy making phone calls and Mairead reluctantly watched
some television. She felt irritable and couldn’t understand why
this friend of James bothered her so much.

“I have to go out,” James
announced.

“I’ll come with you.” Mairead
jumped up from the recliner but waned as James shook his head.

“I have too much to do and I
would prefer you to stay here.”

“But...” Mairead didn’t want to
be on her own.

“Mairead, I can get things done
much quicker without having to watch out for you. There are media
still hanging around the hotel and I must insist that you stay in
the room while I’m gone.” He smiled at her gloomy face. “I’ll only
be a couple of hours.”

When he had left Mairead felt
the full weight of loneliness descend upon her. With it came
unwelcome memories and she flicked through the channels on the
television to try and divert her attention.

When that didn’t work, Mairead
jumped up from the recliner and began to wander around the room.
Stretching her arms up high above her head, she bent down placing
her palms on the floor, allowing them to take her weight as she
pulled her legs up.

Whilst in a hand stand, she
opened her legs and did the splits and then brought them back
together before tucking her head under and rolling to a sitting
position. It felt wonderful and she repeated the exercise, this
time walking her hands and turning her body full circle before
rolling down. From her sitting position she stretched her legs wide
and bent down until her head and upper body touched the carpet and
her arms reached out.

Mairead was pleased that the
last two weeks without training hadn’t left her too rusty. Instead,
she felt the rest had benefited her after three months of the
gruelling regime of the Australian Gymnastics Squad.

She thought angrily of her
trainer, Thalia Lindsay, who had been the sole reason she had been
kicked out. The woman was insane and cruel, and Mairead the target
of her torment. On many occasions, Mairead had been left battered
and bruised from impossible moves that Thalia had insisted on. When
one of those moves had left her with a black eye and swollen lip,
after crashing head first into the lower of the uneven bars,
Mairead had been angry.

It had meant a night in hospital
for observation and no reprise from Thalia who wanted her back at
training the next day. Instead, Mairead had allowed herself a week
off and hung up every time Thalia had called her.

During her self-appointed
holiday, Mairead had attended several night clubs and attracted a
little media attention from a few disorderly behaviours.

On her return to the sporting
complex, Thalia had given Mairead her marching orders. Her response
had been to finally tell her trainer her opinion of the woman’s
sexuality, weight, promiscuity and mentality. Unfortunately, her
tirade had been in front of a large audience, including two
journalists who were visiting that day.

Mairead flushed as she
remembered some unflattering photos that had appeared in the
papers. To hell with them; right now all she needed was some good
exercise. She was aware that the hotel had its own gym and with her
yearning for exercise she hurried to her bedroom and changed into
her sports bra top and matching capris.

James would be gone for two
hours which gave her more than enough time to work out, shower and
be sitting back in front of the television when he returned.

Leaving the room was liberating
and Mairead ran, cart wheeled and somersaulted down the length of
the hall leading to the lift. Inside, she bounced about but settled
when the doors opened on a lower floor.

She was joined by a plump older
housemaid who looked at her fearfully. As the lift started to move
the woman began to cry. Mairead reached out and gently placed her
hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright? Has something
happened?”

The maid cried harder and
nodded, “The little dog, Mrs. Chapman’s little dog, Timmy.”

“What about the little dog?”

“He got out!” She threw her arms
up in defeat. “I just open the door to clean the room and he ran.
He was so fast. Everyone is searching for him.”

“I’ll help you.”

The housemaid shook her head.
“No, no, no. You mustn’t. You’re a guest here. I am already in so
much trouble. I’m going to lose my job.”

Mairead was horrified. “But it’s
not your fault. It was an accident.”

“My manager is very angry. Mrs.
Chapman is very angry. She told me I would never get work again in
the hotels.”

“Mrs. Chapman sounds like a
right bitch.” Mairead put her arm around her. “I’m going to help
you.”

The doors of the lift opened to
a foyer where hotel staff was dashing about frantically. Mairead
and the housemaid were about to step out into the chaos, when the
manager and a valet ran towards them. The manager called out to
other staff.

“He’s been located. He’s still
on the tenth floor but he got out onto the scaffolding.” The
manager halted when he saw Mairead and shot a glare to the
housemaid. “My apologies Miss Kavanagh, but we’ve had a small
incident with a dog.”

He stepped back so she could get
out but Mairead stepped back into the lift.

“I’ve heard. I want to see for
myself.”

The manager looked as if he
wanted to argue but changed his mind and got in with the valet. The
housemaid moved closer to Mairead and stood silently.

Upon arrival to the tenth floor,
Mairead followed the manager as he ran toward the end of the
hallway. The area was cordoned off with signs warning of danger and
closures for renovations.

Hurrying past the signs, the
manager led them to a large area which had been stripped down to
bare walls and windows, at which were gathered a number of staff.
The large windows were mostly sealed but at each end they allowed a
smaller section to open outwardly.

Beyond the windows, Mairead
could see the extensive beams, pipe work and timber boards of the
scaffolding. On one board, several feet out, sat a Chihuahua
shivering and staring at them.

Other valets and housemaids were
gathered at the opened sections calling out to him. Every now and
then the little dog would get up and walk to the end of the board
which led to a network of thin steel railing, no wider than a few
inches. He would take a tentative step, change his mind and walk to
the other end of the board and look as if he was about to jump to
another board which was at least two feet away and spanned a
deathly height.

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