"So. Pisces."

Izzy looked at the youthful features and mane of sleek, dark hair that faced her across the table. Her young friend Amy could be so direct, and she was staring hard at Izzy now with that unblinking, frank expression of hers. Mind you, Jessica, sitting beside Amy on the booth's bench seat, and Sarah, next to Izzy, had much the same demanding look in their eyes.

The assembled members of the Zodiac Club were ready and waiting for their latest bulletin.

Well, if news is what they're after, news is what they're going to get.

"Pisces," she repeated and paused. "And Aquarius. Together."

The effect was devastating. Jessica, for once, was stunned into silence, while Sarah and Amy shared an openmouthed, wide-eyed moment of disbelief before turning back to Izzy.

"Both of them? At the same time?"

Izzy nodded, unable to prevent the smile from creeping onto her face. "Oh, and a French masseuse."

"You had an orgy?"

"I'd hardly call it that, Jess. Merely doubling up the possibilities, that's all."

"And did you? Double up, I mean?"

Izzy cast her mind back to the night in question, a few days earlier, when she'd intended to meet Josh Newman, her Pisces selection, at the luxury spa where he worked. The evening had turned out rather differently from her expectations, as first Françoise relaxed her with her magical fingers, and then the nameless Aquarian—in Izzy's head, a blond merman—had emerged, dripping and beautiful, from the swimming pool to introduce her to the delights of semisubmerged sex. Finally Josh himself had arrived on the scene and, far from being upset or jealous at her indulgences with the other two, had made it very plain he was more than happy to join in with them.

The hours that followed had been revelatory, intense, and a fitting climax to Izzy's year of sexual adventure through the horoscope. Crossing off Aquarius and Pisces in one fantastic session had proved utterly satisfying in so many ways.

But when it came to reporting back on her exploits to the girls, Izzy suddenly found herself feeling a little coy, as if she wanted to hold something back for herself. She'd willingly signed up to the experiment a year ago and had agreed to supply regular feedback on her dates as she explored each sign of the zodiac in the search for Mr. Right. Now that it had come to its astrological conclusion, though, she felt a pang of selfishness that she was required to give up the most intimate of her secrets.

"Aren't we jumping ahead of ourselves a little?" she asked and reached across to the pile of brown envelopes on the table in front of Sarah. "I think we should see how Jessica's fared with her predictions for Aquarius and Pisces."

Sarah put a hand on top of the pile to stop Izzy in her tracks. "I've got a better idea. Now that you've gone full circle through the zodiac, why don't we have a review of the year?"

"Mademoiselle's champagne."

Izzy paused, taking in the unreality of her situation. Here she was, skinnydipping in the luxurious waters of a high-class spa pool, with an equally naked French masseuse serving her champagne and a pristine merman hovering at her side, who had just provided her with the most memorable tongue-fuck she could recall for a long while. Meanwhile, fully clothed at the poolside stood Josh Newman—the guy she was supposed to be dating this extraordinary evening—watching her adventure unfold.

"Are you all right, Izzy? Is everything okay for you?"

His friendly, solicitous voice brought her out of her momentary rhapsody, and she smiled enthusiastically at him.

"Oh yes, thank you. I'm having a ball."

She grabbed the flute from Françoise and eagerly tipped the champagne into her mouth. With her head back and her lips wide, the cool drink felt wonderful as it ran down her throat, but her senses were diverted by another feeling—just as wonderful—as Françoise moved close to her and wrapped her in a sensual embrace. Taken a little by surprise, Izzy spluttered into her glass. The smooth skin of Françoise's arms enfolded her, and the pert, fleshy breasts pressed against her own. Françoise laid her mouth against Izzy's neck and planted three soft kisses, each one slightly higher than the last, before relieving Izzy of the glass and handing it to the grinning merman.

Now they were locked in the gentlest of hugs and staring deeply into each other's eyes. With the ripples lapping around their partly submerged chests, Françoise held the gaze for a long moment before leaning in and offering her mouth up to Izzy's.

Izzy closed her eyes, squeezed her arms a little tighter, and sank into the full, openmouthed kiss with relish.

This was quite different from kissing a man. This was all softness, wetness, gentleness, and the mutual probing of their tongues into the darkness of each other's mouths was conducted with a sensitivity that Izzy found both soothing and electrifying at the same time. Izzy felt the girl cradle the back of her head, and she echoed the movement with her own hand.

Still she kept her eyes closed as she sensed Françoise's feet lifting from the floor of the pool, then felt two lithe legs wrap around her butt, the thighs gripping her thrillingly. Against her floating breasts, she noticed her companion's nipples hardening in appreciation as their limbs entwined and the kissing grew harder and more intense.

And then, suddenly, Josh was there in the water beside them, stripped and glistening and clearly not prepared to wait any longer to join in the action.

Izzy pulled herself away from the embrace and looked at him as he spoke.

"Well, I have to confess, this isn't the kind of first date I had in mind."

She closed her eyes at the delicious touch of the girl's hands against her skin. Gliding with the lubrication of the oil, the palms and fingers ran smoothly and rhythmically across Izzy's flesh, starting at the base of her spine and spanning the full curvature of her back in long, luscious sweeps.

The feminine touch—so different from the massages she'd occasionally enjoyed at the hands of a man—made her remember her Gemini experience, and she smiled privately behind her closed lids at the memory.

The hypnotic soundtrack, the sensual aroma of the oil, and the cocooning warmth of the room combined to lull Izzy into semi-consciousness, and she surrendered to it willingly. As she felt the girl's reassuring touch slide from her shoulders to her upper arms, then down to her sides, Izzy sensed her leaning in toward her with every pulse. And then, with one particularly deep lunge, there was a new touch as the girl's torso made tiny but detectable contact with Izzy's skin, and Izzy knew her masseuse was topless. She opened her eyes with a start and tried to look around the room, but her view was hampered by the hole in the bed, and the most she could make out was the corner of a white cotton tunic hanging limply from the counter where Francoise had been standing. Was this how they did it in France? Or had Josh laid on something extra special, just for her?

Her surprise was quickly overtaken by delight, and Izzy closed her eyes blissfully once more and waited breathlessly for another touch of the girl's breasts against her oiled back.

As the strokes spread wider across Izzy's flanks, she felt a sudden longing for the girl to continue round to the front of her body. There was an aching in her breasts and a stiffness in her nipples, and she momentarily considered simply rolling over and giving herself up to the firm, convincing hands.

And then the skin-to-skin contact was broken.

"Well done, mademoiselle. You are very relaxed. Now you may rest here for a while and go through to the pool when you are ready."

"But wait! I thought you said full-body experience."

Izzy lifted her head from the bed just in time to see the girl, clutching the tunic to her chest, heading for the door. Françoise threw a delightful smile over her shoulder and laughed a sweet, delicate laugh.

"Relax, mademoiselle. There is no hurry."

With a toss of her golden tresses and a wiggle of her immaculate buttocks, she was gone.
 

"Mine's a whiskey. Straight."

Izzy raised an eyebrow. "Really? You know, I don't claim to be an expert in these things, but I believe we're quite a long way from Scotland."

The man smiled again and studied Izzy with a look that she could only interpret as appreciative. The warmth in his eyes sent a little tingle down her spine. For some reason, she experienced a fleeting image of Jack Weston, and she wondered why this guy would remind her of the owner of the dating agency she'd been using for the Zodiac Club experiment. Physically, they had little in common: this man was slight and graying—about fifty, she guessed—while Jack was stockier and probably twenty years younger. But something about his openness and calm strength had taken her right back to Jack in her mind.

"Touché. Have your Manhattan, by all means. But please let me pay for it."

Izzy was far from home, on her own in an intoxicating city, and in any case had a ticket in her hand that meant she'd be leaving soon.

"Why not? I'm here for only a few minutes, anyway." 

"That's a shame. Why's that?" 

She told him about the night tour she'd booked, and explained that the bus was due to arrive outside this very hotel anytime now.

"It's true I don't know you at all, but you don't strike me as the tourist type. Not in that outfit."

Izzy self-consciously hitched her skirt down the thigh that had somehow hugely overexposed itself on the bar stool.

"Actually, it's for my portfolio."

"Now I'm really interested," he replied and clinked his newly arrived tumbler of whisky against her umbrella-decorated glass. "Artist? Model?"

"Photographer," she corrected and let it hang in the air as she took a long slug of the drink. The alcohol burned the back of her throat, but it felt good, and so did she.

"Listen, I don't want to sound pushy or anything, but I have a pretty good eye for these things myself. And I know my way around here. If you're looking for the best views, maybe you'd consider letting me be your guide?"

Izzy was starting to get used to her new confidence. The Zodiac Club had certainly had a freeing effect on her, and she relished the assurance with which she now felt able to talk to men. The decision was entirely hers. No longer did she allow herself to be swayed by outside influences or even pushed around by her conscience. If she wanted to get to know a guy better, then she was damn well going to go ahead and do it. And this guy definitely fell into the category of "wanting to know better." Izzy hadn't considered the older man too seriously at first, but she was warming to this mysterious stranger with every passing moment.

"That sounds like an intriguing offer," she said, easing the stool a little farther round to face him more directly. "What views have you got in mind?"

He stood slowly and leaned in toward her. He wasn't particularly tall, and his rugged face was about the same height as Izzy's on her stool. She caught a waft of aftershave—something musky and a little rough around the edges—as he whispered in her ear, "You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?"

The motel was a revelation. Completely at odds with its anodyne exterior, the place harbored an inner life that fitted exactly with Izzy's imagined picture. It was clearly a haven for swingers, lovers, and romancers of all kinds, and its free-loving atmosphere offered a secretive sanctuary for anyone in the mood for a little sexual adventure.

It was perfect for what Izzy had in mind.

Standing alone in the pink-papered corridor that was lined wall-to-wall with thick red carpet, Izzy readied herself for the encounter to come. She unfastened an extra button to reveal a touch more of her unsupported cleavage and hoisted her skirt an inch higher on her thighs. Then, after checking up and down the corridor to see that no one was watching, she slipped out of her knickers and dropped them into a nearby waste bin.

"Come!"

Izzy had wondered if her tentative knock would be heard inside the room, but the command was thrillingly authoritative.

She turned the knob and entered.

Joe Lindsay was seated at the desk against the wall nearest the door, pen in hand, poring over some papers by the sole light of a table lamp, which cast a warm, yellow glow around the walls. He wore a tie—where the hell had he conjured up that from? Izzy wondered—that was slackened around his throat, with the top shirt button undone in a look of either casual insouciance or overwork. Enticingly for Izzy's game, he also wore a pair of tortoiseshell spectacles perched on the end of his nose.

He didn't even look up when she came in.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Lindsay, but could you spare me a few minutes of your valuable time?"

He sighed heavily and threw the pen down on the desk. "What do you want, Miss Morgan? I'm really busy."

"I know that, sir, but I'd really appreciate your…input."

Izzy took two steps closer and let the door swing shut behind her. She adopted a pose with one knee cocked against the other, the toe of her stiletto grinding into the carpet.

"All right. What do you want?"

She put a forefinger to her mouth, uncertain how to answer.

"Come on, girl. Spit it out. I haven't got all day, you know." His tone was deliciously masterful, his body language imposing as he sat back in the swivel chair and shoved his pelvis powerfully in her direction.

"Sorry, sir. It's just that I don't quite know how to ask you this."

"It's all right, Miss Morgan. You can ask me anything you like. I'm not a monster, you know."

"Well, sir, as you know, I'm happy to work up a sweat for you, and I'll do any kind of job you need me to, so I just wondered if there was any way you could help me out with some kind of raise?"

He reached up to his face and slowly removed the glasses. "You do know I can't pay you with actual money, don't you?"

Izzy feigned horror at the very idea of it. "Of course not, sir! I wouldn't be so unreasonable as to ask for that."

"Then what do you want?"

As she spoke, Izzy moved gently over to the bed behind his chair. "Well, I was rather hoping you might be able to come up with some other way of satisfying me, Mr. Lindsay."
 

As she lay in the tub that evening, relishing the golden candlelight and warm vanilla scent from the bubbles, Izzy turned over the newfound information in her mind. She was fascinated by the notion that she could enjoy a man so much more by knowing which buttons to push - predetermined buttons based on his star sign. She had never had much luck with men, but equipped with Jessica’s astrological handbook for seduction, might she not learn to discover the real pleasures of romance?

Closing her eyes, she let her hand drift lazily through the water to her mound and teased the wet, dark hair gently with her fingers. She felt the familiar tingle in her skin as she woke the sleeping creature deep inside, and she arched her back involuntarily as the first wave of pleasure lurched through her. Opening her legs a little wider, she then slipped a finger into the crevice, moist with bubble bath and anticipation, and began to play.

Behind her closed eyes she watched a parade of male models, each one naked but for a fig leaf covering his modesty, engraved with his star sign. Starting with Aries, she made the men line up in front of her in her head, then gazed appreciatively as one by one they shed their leaves to reveal the astrological promise beneath. She got as far as Cancer, the fourth sign, before she came, her clitoris convulsing deliciously under the pressure of her finger.

Could it be genuine? she wondered as she allowed the warmth of the water to bring her round from her daydream. Was there anything more than sheer hokum to the concept of compatibility based on astrology? And if there was, what did it mean for her in her continuing search for the perfect partner, who had so far proved dramatically elusive?

"So, you're not looking for any particular type?" Jack asked, closing the manila folder in front of him and looking properly at Izzy for the first time since his expensive fountain pen had begun trailing blue-black flourishes across the page.

"I don't really have a 'type.' I'm afraid I've not had the luxury of being able to pick and choose."

He smiled again. "Until now," he reminded her. "Now it's all about picking and choosing."

"Yes, I was going to ask you about that," said Izzy, her voice slightly hesitant. "How does it work, exactly?"

Jack stood up briskly and moved round to her side of the desk again. He came close—but not too close—to her chair and stood impressively over her, creating the impression of a fond schoolmaster advising a helpless student on her homework.

"Ah, now that's where you've got to put a little time and effort in for the cause," he said. "But you shouldn't look at it as work. More as a chance to explore the options, find out about the opportunities that are open to you. Think of it as a kind of careers day for your love life."

Izzy laughed at the analogy, reinforced by his schoolmasterish position.

"What do I have to do?"

Izzy was still fast asleep when the phone roused her from an erotic dream. After turning last night’s thoroughly satisfactory encounter over and over in her mind for the better part of three hours, she’d finally dozed off into a slumber punctuated by drifting visions: the enticing exposure of her lacy stocking tops; that luscious, versatile tongue of his; the sight of his head between her thighs. Reliving the ecstasy in her dreams, she’d even woken herself once or twice in the night with her semi-orgasmic groans.

Izzy let out a groan of a different sort as she dragged one arm free from the entanglements of the duvet and reached out for the phone, squinting at the alarm clock at the same time. Computing the electronic digits in her head, she half expected to hear the voice of last night’s conquest.

"Isobel, I felt I really had to call you to apologize."

Sleep and wine still fogging her thoughts, she struggled to make sense of the opening line. She drew a hand across her forehead, sweeping a swathe of red hair out of her eyes. "I’m sorry—is that you, Spencer?"

The voice sounded surprised. "Spencer? No, it’s Jack Weston from The Personal Touch dating agency. It’s Spencer that I’m ringing about."

With a jolt, Izzy sat upright in bed, the duvet falling suddenly from her naked breasts. "Jack," she replied anxiously, clutching the bedclothes and drawing them back up to her chin as if she were somehow visible to him. "Is everything all right? What’s happened?"

Izzy was hot and wet, and it wasn't from the ambient temperature in the room. Feeling him wriggle enthusiastically against her, she sensed her own rising need to be touched, and the next time he lifted himself away, she worked one hand free to grab her breast. It took no effort at all to liberate it from its casing, and one pink nipple popped out of the basque like an inquisitive meerkat from its den. Squeezing it between her forefinger and thumb, Izzy gulped in a sharp breath of pleasure. It was enough to make Bud notice, because he immediately turned his face down to her cleavage and, after a moment's savoring with his eyes, sank his moist mouth down blissfully onto her exposed breast.

Izzy let out a stifled cry of ecstasy, and something moved in the bed.