Dr Casswell's Plaything Read Free Page A

away; he knew it would not be long before the party disintegrated into an orgy, and his tastes were more discriminating and he had no great desire to participate.
    Then almost as if some benign but debauched god had heard his prayer, Chang appeared at his shoulder.
    ‘Egon has just arrived from the airport, sir,’ he whispered. ‘He is waiting for Mr Turner and yourself in the drawing room.’
    Casswell smiled; on stage his protégée, Sarah Morgan, was on the very brink of orgasm, while above her, still naked except for his dressing gown, Oliver Turner was looking on with the greatest of delight. Casswell indicated the elderly gentleman with a discreet nod of his head. ‘Give our host a few minutes to compose himself and then tell him where we are, Chang. I’ll go and entertain Mr Egon.’
    Minutes later, Sarah, her body flushed with the aftermath of orgasm, gasped for breath and rolled over onto her back, her male companion already back amongst the crowd. She could hardly believe the way she had behaved, but also knew that there were no excuses – watching Oliver Turner and Amelia provoked some dark side of her soul that wanted nothing more than to be part of their passion, part of their desire.
    Now, as her breathing slowed, Amelia looked across at her, her face arranged in a sly smile. ‘See, I said you’d like it, didn’t I?’
    Sarah laughed and then glanced around the darkened function room, out over the sea of faces. Most of the couples and threesomes were already engaged in passions of their own – but to her consternation, Rigel Casswell was nowhere in sight. She picked up a thick white towel that had been left on the edge of the stage and wiped her face; sweat had appeared like raindrops as she fought her way out to the very edges of desire.
    A few feet away, Chang clambered onto the stage and whispered something to Oliver Turner, who nodded, pulled his robe shut and tied the belt tight. Indicating that Chang should lead, Oliver fell into step behind him while Amelia followed her master, leaving Sarah alone on the stage. Part of her wanted to stay, but instead she picked up the towel, wrapped it around her shoulders and headed after Chang and the others.
    At the door to the drawing room the little oriental turned, opened the door for Oliver Turner and Amelia, and then waved Sarah away. ‘They’re talking business,’ he said gently. ‘Go upstairs and wait. I’ll tell him where you are.’
    Sarah looked at Chang and swallowed down the anger, but amongst the many other things she felt about him, she trusted him to take care of Casswell. ‘It’s about the diary?’
    Chang nodded and the sense of elation she felt on stage with Oliver and Amelia trickled away like iced water. Without another word she hurried upstairs. What would happen next? Would this mean she would have to leave Casswell Hall, leave her master and the diaries? The thought horrified her. Staring at the familiar outline of the transcript on the table in her room, she closed her eyes, willing the outcome to be a good one.
    Sarah perched on the end of her bed for what seemed like an eternity, until finally she contemplated going back downstairs. Perhaps amongst other people the time would pass more quickly. But to her relief, almost as the thought formed in her mind, Casswell opened the door and strode into the room.
    Part of her wanted nothing more than to run into his arms, prostrate herself at his feet, whatever it took for things to be right. In an odd way she felt as if they had both lived through Beatrice’s worst fears. For an instant she held back, wondering if she dare speak to him, but she could not contain herself.
    ‘The diary,’ she began, aware that she had his undivided attention. ‘I finished reading it this afternoon. Chang has told me about the things Gilim said…’ Her voice faded as she struggled to find the right words. Would Casswell be angry with her for speaking out of turn, for knowing so much? ‘Was that the