T's - The Third Instalment in which Emma meets Lady Delmore

In the morning T was up and tapping on her laptop when I got out of bed. My legs had spent so long apart that previous night they were like strangers! I made coffee and sat naked beside her.

‘So tell me about the Aristo backer?’

‘She’s 55, Lady Delmore and a raging aggressive dyke. She’ll love you and probably jump you the first chance she gets. She’s loaded, has a whole coterie of rich lesbian mates in all sorts of places. She really wants a place where she can take them when she’s in London. Her idea is that we create something like a gentleman’s club for lesbians – good dining, rooms to sleep in and, above all, classy.’

I had to admit I could see the sense.

‘We’re meeting her later today for lunch – I figured you’d be safe in a restaurant even from her.’ We went back to bed for another round of what T called Puss and Boots; she had developed a love of keeping her shoes on in bed which I didn’t understand but didn’t mind either, especially since she’d arrived in a long pair of black ones with spiky heels. I asked her why and she said she found it arousing so why not? Who could argue with that?

Marco’s is a swish Italian restaurant that I’d read about but could never afford to visit. We’d gone to T’s hotel so she could change and then another cab took us on to Marco’s Mayfair address and we, dressed suitably and with the usual differences, skirt for me, trousers for T, went in.

What can I tell you about Lady Delmore? She wore her 55 years well, tall and elegant and stunningly well-dressed in a black number. She had green eyes that opened the buttons on my blouse and her hello kiss was full on the mouth with a hint of tongue and a hand on the arse. Despite T’s warning I was a bit taken aback but, I hope, hid it well enough. Lady Delmore, Grace I was to call her, tapped the seat next to hers instructing me to park my pretty little arse and, with her hand on my thigh began to take command. She was a non-stop talker. T had told her so much about me and my fine work with the agency. This was a surprise since I had no idea T knew about my splendid work there but I didn’t say so. After a speech in which she managed simultaneously to explain her vision for T’s club and get her hand onto my stocking top despite my skirt being calf length, she looked deep into my eyes and said,

‘So, what do you think, darling?’

I looked at T who simply nodded enigmatically so I started to blurt out some ideas.

‘I think T’s is a great name. The address will be important and until I know the likely members it’s not easy to decide where it should be.’

‘It must,’ Grace said, ‘be near Parliament, handy for the best shops and hotels and big enough to have at least 6 rooms for members to occupy.’

She knew that would be expensive but so would membership. She had at least forty people interested and intended to start taking membership fees as soon as we had reached agreement and found a place. She didn’t want a business plan, she had the cash available herself so no banks would be involved. She wanted me to find the chef, the staff and the premises and a designer. The designer seemed unimportant to me since she had the vision in her mind already.

‘An intimate dining room which can be light and airy during the luncheon period,’ she proclaimed. ‘A members’ sitting room with booths as well as a wider area. The sort of booth where I could get my hand right up your skirt without everybody noticing,’ she said louder than I felt appropriate given our circumstances. ‘I also want a tv room, a sauna and a gym. We’ll need a masseuse, maybe two, and servants. T will be in charge overall and you will be her assistant with responsibility for the staff. The servants will be aware that that is what they are! They should obviously be lesbians too.’ Oh, that’ll be a piece of cake finding 24 pretty lesbians with discretion, I thought. Actually I must have said it aloud because she fixed me with a glare.

‘Not a piece of cake, dear Emma, but doable. Now, come to my hotel for tea and we’ll sort out your salary etc.’ She rose, waved at the head waiter without being asked to pay and swept out with me in her wake. T followed and then, at the kerbside, kissed me goodbye and said she’d see me in the office the next day. Grace had insisted that she leave us to sort the details alone! I mouthed ‘bitch’ and climbed into the cab Grace had ordered the restaurant doorman to call for her. Her hand immediately returned to my thigh and stayed there all the way to her fine hotel where, once again, she swept through the lobby with me following. Her suite was enormous and looked out over Hyde Park.