Platinum Coast. Lynne Pemberton

are you looking for?’ Christina enquired.

      I’m looking for my How to Seduce a Beautiful Young Woman manual. I’m sure it’s here somewhere.’ He looked at her helplessly. ‘You see, I’m lost without it.’

      Christina giggled, a deep, throaty sound.

      ‘How about I teach you, Mr Reece-Carlton, since you’re such a novice?’ She lowered her eyes shyly. ‘I’m not exactly the voice of experience, but I’m sure we could learn as we went along.’

      He placed his glass of champagne on the coffee table and slid along the sofa to where she was sitting.

      ‘That sounds like a great idea to me. I’ll be your willing pupil.’

      ‘Lesson number one, you kiss me.’

      Stephen leaned towards her and, cupping her chin in his hand, kissed the end of her nose.

      She closed her eyes as the tip of his tongue very gently licked the outside of her lips, gently prising them open before his own lips covered hers and his tongue explored the inside of her mouth.

      ‘Lesson number two,’ Christina whispered, as he started to kiss her neck, ‘you take off my blouse.’

      ‘I’ll do whatever you say.’ He was clearly enjoying the game.

      Stephen undid the tiny buttons down the front of Christina’s shirt. It fell open to reveal a half-cup white-lace bra, barely containing her round breasts.

      He ran his fingers across her bare stomach, then circled first one nipple then the other with the palm of his hand. Her nipples rose in response, and he unhooked her bra. He caressed one breast whilst exposing the other, which he fell upon, sucking and pulling her hard nipple into the soft folds of his mouth.

      ‘Lesson number three,’ she gasped, breathless, as he ran his tongue across her stomach, ‘you take off my trousers.’

      He kneeled at her feet and pulled both her boots off before unzipping her leather trousers and sliding them down her long, lightly freckled legs.

      Christina squealed as she spotted her big toe poking through a pair of worn Mickey Mouse socks.

      She looked at Stephen, who hadn’t noticed. He was too busy staring at her tiny white-lace bikini-briefs and the thick triangle of dark-brown pubic hair just visible beneath. He pulled off her old socks and flung them over the top of the sofa, then ran his tongue slowly up the inside of her thigh and across the front of her panties, biting gently into the open lace.

      He lifted her legs onto the sofa and laid her carefully on her back, putting a cushion under her head.

      He was kissing her passionately now, his mouth hard and urgent.

      ‘You’re beautiful, Christina,’ he told her between frenzied kisses.

      She began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

      ‘Lesson number four …’

      ‘Lesson number four, Miss O’Neill, is I fuck you until you tell me to stop.’

      ‘You’re a very good pupil, Mr Reece-Carlton,’ she said in a breathy voice.

      He looked deeply into her half-closed eyes.

      ‘I catch on quick, Miss O’Neill.’

      The loud blare of a car horn woke Christina the following morning.

      She sat up and stared at her surroundings, confused for a few moments, until she realized that she was in Stephen’s bed in his flat in London.

      She recalled their lovemaking of the previous evening and, with a satisfied grin on her face, sank back down into the deep feather pillows.

      A few moments later she looked up as Stephen appeared at the door, dressed in a long navy-blue bathrobe and carrying a tray of scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, plus a jug of what looked like fizzy orange juice and two glasses.

      ‘Good morning. Sleep well?’

      ‘Like a log, but I always wake early whatever time I go to bed. I’m afraid I’ve got an inbuilt alarm clock. I crept out of bed like a mouse this morning so as not to disturb you.’

      ‘What’s that?’ She pointed to the tray.

      ‘This is breakfast in bed, Stephen Reece-Carlton-style. So come along, young lady, sit up. We’re going to eat.’

      He dropped his robe and she averted her eyes, suddenly embarrassed at the sight of Stephen’s lean, muscular body. He noticed her embarrassment and quickly slid into bed next to her, pulling the covers over his nakedness and placing the tray between them.

      He handed her a fork and a napkin.

      ‘Dig in. It’s delicious.’

      ‘What’s the orange stuff in the eggs?’ she asked, pushing her fork into the centre of the plate.

      ‘It’s smoked salmon.’ He poured a glass of the fizzy orange mixture, saying, ‘One Bucks Fizz coming up.’

      ‘Bucks Fizz?’ She raised her straight eyebrows and took the glass.

      ‘Champagne and freshly squeezed orange juice.’

      ‘This is a very decadent breakfast,’ she said between sips of Bucks Fizz. ‘You’re spoiling me, Stephen.’

      He looked at the napkin draped across her breasts, one pert nipple protruding.

      ‘And why not?’

      ‘Talking of spoiling …’ Christina ran her fingers up the inside of his thigh. ‘Why don’t I try spoiling you a little in return?’

      Stephen put the tray on the floor.

      ‘Why not indeed?’

      It was almost midday when they left Stephen’s flat and walked to High Street Kensington where they hailed a cab to the West End.

      They wandered hand in hand down Bond Street, idly window-shopping, with Christina chatting non-stop.

      ‘What a fantastic dress.’ She pointed to a black silk creation in the window of Yves St Laurent.

      ‘It would look a lot better on you than on that skinny mannequin,’ Stephen declared, and before she could say another word he pulled her towards the big glass entrance door. ‘Come on, try it on.’

      ‘No, Stephen, it will cost the earth. I can’t afford Yves St Laurent,’ she protested.

      ‘But I can,’ he remarked, and pushed her into the shop.

      An elderly shop assistant dressed in a simple yet very chic Yves St Laurent shift dress came towards them.

      ‘Can I help?’ she asked, staring disdainfully at Christina, who was now acutely aware of her creased trousers and cheap blouson shirt.

      ‘We’re interested in the black dress in the window,’ Stephen said.

      The assistant beamed at him.

      ‘Oh, yes, it’s stunning.’

      She glanced at Christina, weighing her up.

      ‘Size ten, I would say.’

      Christina held her head high and stared back aloofly. ‘You’re dead right.’

      ‘Charlotte, check if we have a size ten in the black silk, please,’ she snapped at a girl standing a few feet away.

      Charlotte arrived a few minutes later with the black dress draped over her arm. She smiled warmly at them both and gestured to Christina. ‘The changing-rooms are over here.’

      She followed the young girl, throwing a wary look at Stephen as she passed.

      The dress fitted perfectly.

      It was made from pure silk chiffon, cut very low at the back, almost to her waist, and falling in soft tiers to the