Behind the Mask: Enter a World Where Women Make - and Break - the Rules. Emma Sayle
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I say, smiling. I tap her glass with mine and take a sip. ‘I can’t believe my little business is already a year old. I started with one party and 40 members. Now I have a party every month and I have over 1,000 members. I’m going to be making enough profit on the membership and the parties to work at it full-time soon.’
Trolley Dolly goes on: ‘And this is just the beginning, right? I think Emma could be on her way to world domination. After all, look how quickly two cats can become 80 million.’
‘Can they?’ asks Miss D. She always goes a little quiet when Trolley Dolly is about; she’s in awe of the other woman’s top-flight legal career plus a hunger for sex to rival her own.
‘Oh yes. If you let two cats breed at will, and allow their offspring to breed at will, these two cats will become 80 million within a decade.’
‘No way. Seriously?’ Miss D looks stunned. ‘That’s a lot of cats!’
‘Thank goodness for neutering,’ I say drily, casting a look at Plaything.
‘That’s assuming two litters per year and 2.8 surviving kittens per litter,’ Trolley Dolly adds matter-of-factly.
‘Wow!’ Miss D is all wide-eyed at the thought.
Trolley Dolly sips her champagne and turns to me. ‘So, what’s the plan for the upcoming year?’ she asks.
‘Killing Kittens is going to get bigger,’ I reply. ‘More members, more parties, added glamour and craziness. And I’m thinking of expanding into new areas too.’
‘Oh?’ Trolley Dolly looks interested. ‘You mean like the French Letter Days?’
A few months ago I began to offer adult experiences on my website, which has grown from the initial one-page email catcher I started with. I was inspired by the Red Letter Days that meant people could buy things like a day’s racing at Silverstone or a trip in a hot-air balloon, either as a gift or a personal indulgence. I decided I could give my Kittens the opportunity for marvellous experiences, like filming their own porn movie, or fulfilling fantasies of bondage or sex in a plane, or whatever. It’s expensive and not always easy to arrange, but I love challenges and my French Letter Days add a bit of spice to life.
‘Yeah – I definitely want to do more of those,’ I say. ‘And I want to expand the site. Perhaps offer merchandise.’
‘Sounds great. Another step on the path to ruling the world!’ Trolley Dolly smiles at me. ‘Well, if you’re taking requests, then I’ve got one for you. It’s short notice, I know, but if you can manage it for tomorrow night, I’m in the mood for something exciting. I was thinking of a threesome, preferably with a married couple. And if the wife could be blonde and curvaceous, so much the better. Do you think you can do it?’
Miss D’s eyes start glittering with excitement at the thought. She knows that even if she doesn’t fit the bill for taking part, she’ll probably be able to see at least some of the fun.
I think about it, running the latest membership lists through my mind. I know we’ve had some lusty couples join the club lately and I’m getting to know some of them a little better. ‘Actually, I can. I have the perfect couple. They’re new to KK and just back from holiday. Let’s just say that despite being married for 10 years and having three young children, they’re very well rehearsed in the Kama Sutra.’
Trolley Dolly laughs. ‘Brilliant! Thanks, Emma. Just wait till you see the Victoria’s Secret number I’ll be wearing.’ She turns to Plaything. ‘Order another bottle, will you, darling? Let’s get this celebration going.’
‘Though the sex to which I belong is considered weak you will nevertheless find me a rock that bends to no wind.’
Elizabeth I
I wake up late the day after our celebration of Killing Kittens’ first birthday. I had a skinful of booze last night but feel fine: no apocalyptic headache, no anxiety, no problem. Thanks to forgetting to set my alarm, I’ve slept off any potential hangover. I have plenty of time to enjoy my snack-attack of sardines on toast and open the two Valentine cards that have arrived.
One is from Aidan in Australia and he’s written:
Happy Valentine’s, Em!
I miss you and I’m still waiting for you.
Love Aidan. P.S. There’s a surprise coming your way.
I can’t help feeling warm and fuzzy when I read it. Even though we’ve broken up and live on different sides of the world, we’ll always share a special bond. The attraction between us has never faded, and I can’t help wondering how things would be if he were living in London. Would we be together? Maybe even married? But his life is over there, and mine is here.
I tuck Aidan’s card away and open the other one. It has a huge red heart on the front and it’s been signed inside: Mr B. I stare at it, wondering why I don’t feel any cupids flying round my head, or as though I’m soaring to the dizzy heights of love. It might be because his PA picked the card and probably even signed it too.
Stop it, Ems. You don’t know that. Mr B has made a romantic gesture. And it’s early days. Cut him some slack.
Tonight, there’ll be romance in the air: champagne, oysters by candlelight, chocolates, sexy pillow talk and smoochy music – just not for me. I’ve laid on all this for tonight’s Valentine’s party. The fourteenth of February might be the festival of love, but I have the first anniversary of my business to celebrate with my Kittens, so love – and Mr Black – will just have to wait.
I jump into the shower and get ready for work. I fling on a slinky black mini-dress, opt for minimal make-up with just a hint of eyeliner and lip gloss, and moisturize my legs as they’re on display tonight. I jump into a cab and head for the financial heart of London: the City. Heavy clouds cover the skyline and the journey is an arduous one: my driver is a snail and I try to calm myself as he catches every red light while his meter keeps on clicking away. I finally arrive an hour later, £50 poorer.
The venue for tonight’s Killing Kittens’ party is a funky retro-modern boutique hotel. I’ve booked four lavish penthouse suites at the excellent price of £1,000 for the whole evening. The owner is dating one of my members, so he’s thrown in the bar downstairs for nothing, which means people can gather somewhere before the party gets going. I walk through the busy hotel lobby to the elevator and press the penthouse button. I ride to the top floor and when the door slides open, I find Kitty Kat waiting for me, looking stunning in a skin-tight red all-in-one PVC outfit and mask, and armed with a clipboard.
When I started the parties, I knew I would need help. I could do all the organization myself, but I needed security and someone on the door. At first I corralled friends and family into helping me. My sister even spent a few months as my door girl, on the firm condition that she stayed on the door and didn’t venture into the humid depths of the Covent Garden sauna. I met Kitty Kat through a friend of mine and we hit it off right away. She was working as an actress and needed to supplement her wages, and she was organized and open-minded. It was a perfect match and she happily agreed to become my permanent part-time door girl, helping me run the monthly party. Now I can’t imagine how I would cope without her.
‘Good evening, Emma.’ She hands over the clipboard with the names of those attending. ‘I sent an email last night to the guests informing them of tonight’s venue. We’re expecting 100. My only concern is that there’s no private elevator to the penthouse. I’ll have to make sure we don’t get hotel guests straying up here by mistake.’
I laugh as I scan the list of names Kitty Kat’s given me. ‘Can you imagine?’
‘Don’t worry. Everything’s under control.’ She flashes me a reassuring smile. I have nothing