Black Butterfly Read Online Free Page B

pyramid below.
    In pride of place, above the shields, was a photograph of the Movement’s Honorary Chairman, Lord Battenburg. The tanned, smiling face of the famous scientist and adventurer gazed down serenely, as though offering benediction on the sporting enterprise to which the place was dedicated.
    Dominating the room, however, was a splendid snooker table, the baize glowing a grassy green under the lampshades. In the centre, the glinting red balls lay neatly arranged in their wooden triangle, the colours on their spots, the white standing free. I crossed to the table, and set the lone white ball spinning. The gentle whirl it made on the cloth was curiously satisfying.I removed a cue from the rack close by, and ran it experimentally between my thumb and forefinger.
    The soft click of the door announced Melissa ffawthawte’s entrance and in the dim light, she looked even more alluring. She removed her spectacles and her green eyes flashed. Within the masculine cut of her jacket, her breasts were shadowed into a deep V. Just visible was the frilled edge of a white brassière and, on the soft skin of her bosom, a curved black mark. I realised with a thrill that it was some kind of tattoo. I entertained the notion that, had Scout leaders been of Miss ffawthawte’s stamp, I might have shown an interest much earlier.
    ‘Very impressive,’ I said, not entirely alluding to the Games Room.
    ‘Akela provides in so many ways,’ she enthused, closing the door behind her. ‘He’s a great believer in the power of play.’
    ‘Oh, me too,’ I said, then tapped the cue lightly on the table. ‘This your game?’
    ‘I’m sorry?’
    ‘Snooker. It’s an unlikely sport for a young lady, but in the absence of a draughts board…’
    Miss ffawthawte ran her fingers over the reds, and they clicked and clacked as her nails stroked each one. ‘I’m adept in most sports, Mr Box,’ she said sweetly, ‘but I must admit to a particular fondness for this one.’ She lifted the triangle and the reds were exposed, like a segment of pomegranate seeds. ‘And you? Are you au fait with it?’
    I shrugged. ‘Played a frame or two in my time.’
    ‘Red ball, followed by all fifteen blacks until cleared. Then all the colours.’
    I nodded. ‘If one is lucky.’
    ‘One makes one’s own luck, don’t you think?’ Suddenly, she picked out a cue. ‘Shall we toss?’
    I refrained from the obvious rejoinder and, nodding, pulled a two-bob bit from my trousers. ‘Call.’
    ‘Tails.’
    I flipped the florin. ‘Tails it is. Just the one frame?’
    The girl looked up. ‘Oh, I think that’s all I’ll need.’
    ‘Confident, aren’t you, Miss ffawthawte?’
    She didn’t respond, but simply slipped off her jacket and hung it on a peg behind the door. The pointy brassière was visible now through the high-collared blouse.
    ‘So,’ I said. ‘The stakes?’
    Miss ffawthawte glanced at me and the faint scar above her lip caught the light of the shaded lamp. ‘If you win,’ she said matter-of-factly, ‘the rewards would be great.’
    ‘You don’t say.’
    ‘But you won’t win, Mr Box.’ Without hesitation, she positioned the white ball and, bending low with the cue, sent it cracking expertly into the crowd of reds. They broke beautifully. One immediately rolled to the bottom left pocket and sank without a sound. At once, Miss ffawthawte crouched down again, her rear turned rather pleasingly towards me, trim and firm beneath the short grey skirt. She sank the black without blinking.
    ‘ Played ,’ I muttered, tapping my cue against the floor. I adjusted the metal scorer on the wall and then went to replace the black on its spot. However, the girl was already on the move, eyes flickering back and forth as she scanned the table.Then she was down again, the cue swished and another red was gone, then another black. I stayed by the scorer and she squeezed past me. I noticed the dark seams of her stockings.
    The next shot wasn’t quite so