By His Command (House of Submission 2)

‘Really?’

‘Yes. And it’s quite a racy one, although I haven’t told your man that. I thought that you and I could spend a few evenings … going through it …’

My jaw dropped.

‘You mean you’ve talked Mr Cutts into letting you turn the museum into your private depraved Victorian sex den?’

He laughed.

‘Exactly. We start tonight. Just me and you – and perhaps I might bring along my box of tricks. What do you think?’

‘I think you’ve got the nerve of the devil,’ I said.

‘That’s not all,’ he whispered into my ear.

* * *

Rob was not best pleased at losing his cinema companion but I think he accepted that he stood slightly less than no chance against Jasper Jay. I had to spend a wearying afternoon fielding endless questions about Jasper and our relationship, not quite knowing whether I should present us as a couple or keep it to myself.

In the end, I opted for the latter, explaining the official version of the story, which was that I’d spent the summer cataloguing his collection of antiques and we had become friends, bonding over our love of a finely turned rosewood table leg.

I don’t think anybody believed me, but it didn’t really matter what they believed.

What mattered was that it was eight o’clock and I was here, alone with Jasper; Cutts having entrusted me with the museum keys after cautioning me to keep an eye on our film director friend and make sure nothing got broken.

‘So, where do you want to start?’ I asked. I was wearing jeans and a fleece, having been home in the interim, and he was similarly dressed.

‘Where’s the dressing-up box?’ he asked.

‘What?’

‘You and your mates were all in role when I turned up earlier. I liked those costumes.’

I sat down on the hall chair.

‘Jasper, I’m not at all sure what we’re doing here. You turn up out of the blue and take the place over with some cock-and-bull story about a film and I don’t know what it’s all about or why we’re here tonight or …’

He took hold of my wrists, his grip tight.

‘Calm down,’ he said, with absolute authority. I recognised the tone immediately and, more importantly, so did my body. It was like rewinding my life back to that summer. I stopped gibbering and held myself still, waiting for his next command.

‘We’re here because we want to be,’ he said, with the same steady, slow modulation. ‘Because I want you, and you want me. And this could be a lot of fun. Don’t you think?’

‘I don’t know what to think …’

‘Then stop thinking. Just do as you’re told. Do you think you can manage that?’

I nodded, relieved to have the pressure taken off. I was tired of analysing the situation every which way from Thursday. I wanted to fling myself backwards off the side of my life and into Jasper’s keeping. I wanted my summer back.

‘Good. Now show me your dressing-up box.’

I stood and led him, still joined at the wrist, to the back parlour, a pretty little Morris-wallpapered room where things were stored, including, in a Turkish-carved ottoman, our costumes.

‘Do you think any of these will fit me?’ asked Jasper, pulling out my favourite of the waistcoats, a silk-embroidered affair with a peacock-feather pattern that Rob always wore rather well. ‘It’s flamboyant. I like it.’

‘I think you and Rob are a similar size,’ I ventured.

‘Are we, by Jove? And how would you know that?’ He cocked a devilish eyebrow.