1 comments/ 55618 views/ 9 favorites European Travels Ch. 01 By: petervongrunigan28 Usual Words. This story is a work of fiction; no inference with real people or events is intended. You must be 18 to read this story. If your not, just read it anyway. You might learn something. This is the start of my first series, so watch this space over the coming months for the next instalments. Also, I have to give a huge thumbs up to TRL, whose words of wisdom helped me immensely with this. I salute you, sir. Feedback and constructive criticism would be nice. It offers a huge amount of encouragement, as well as providing useful analysis. I can’t get better at this unless you guys give me some input. The address is in the link below. Anyhow. Enough of me, read on into the action. ********************** Chapter One : London Calling Without a shadow of a doubt, the biggest night of the British Music industry is the BRIT Awards. All the stars come out to play, with live performances and the legendary after show party making the evening the showpiece that it is. As Deputy Culture Minister in the Government, music obviously falls under my jurisdiction. This was the perfect opportunity to experience some of the worlds best music acts live. It was somewhat strange for me to be back in my hometown, since I spend most of my time travelling. Indeed, tonight would be the start of a busy few months for me as I toured Europe on business. One of the perks of being a VIP is that you can secure entrance to virtually anything you want to go to. Which is why, on this wet Thursday evening I was entering Earls Court, enjoying the atmosphere. Immediately I was accosted by a TV Crew. “Mr Carter, an interview please,” they shouted, keen to be heard over the hubbub. I hate doing this sort of thing, but good PR keeps you in office. Plus, as the darling of the Labour party and the publics favourite it was imperative I be seen that way. “Jeremy Vine, BBC News. Any tips for awards this evening?” “Ms Dynamite and Coldplay seem to be odds on, and personally I’d like to see David Gray win something,” I tried to make my opinion seem informed. In my peripheral vision I saw another woman giving an interview. She had long dark hair, and her clothes made my suit seem totally overdressing for the evening. Fending off the continued questions I searched my mind for her name, and finally it came to me. Avril Lavigne. I was keen to at least talk to this girl, something about her intrigued me. Another thing that interested me was how the invitation had said formal wear, but she was dressed in a tank top and cargo trousers. I swear, some people should me made to toe the line. Gracing the interviewer with my full attention again, I realised he was closing. “Thanks for talking to us Mr Carter, and be careful to avoid buckets of water this evening.” Realising his referral to the Prescott incident a few years back I smiled and walked on, passing Avril on the way. Making eye contact I nodded in a friendly manner, but received nothing in return, not even an acknowledgment. Guess the stroppy bitch rumours I heard were spot on. However, that particular stroppy bitch was up for two awards later, deservedly so. I’m not a huge pop music fan but I have to admit that ‘Let Go’ was quality stuff. ************** The show was amazing. No other word for it. There were great performances from Coldplay and Pink, before the evening was capped by the Welsh master himself, Tom Jones. Even Avril and her entourage of drummers got the arena rocking. I joined the throng heading to the after show party. I wasn’t going to stay long, I had appointments tomorrow morning. Making my way out of the arena I was somewhat surprised to see Avril Lavigne walking alongside me. Deciding to try and at least talk to her I spoke. “Disappointed not to win anything this evening?” I used a friendly tone. “Fuck You.” Far from discouraging me her feisty attitude made me try again. “Look, save it for someone who deserves it.” I protested. “I’m just a nice guy trying to be polite.” “Well do me a favour.” She paused. “Don’t try and be polite. It sucks.” In any other circumstances I would have been pissed off by her attitude, but this girl had an aura that pacified me. Twice I had tried, and twice I had failed, but it was time to leave this alone. I made as if to walk away. I knew this was going no – where. He words stopped me. “Hey!” Her hail turned me instantly. “And you are?” “Carter. Jon Carter.” I offered my hand, which she made no effort to shake. I just couldn’t figure this girl out. “The MP?” she questioned. “The very same.” I was surprised she knew me. I wasn’t world famous. “How do you know?” “I’ve heard stories.” She replied. “Anything I should be worried about?” I questioned. “No. I’ve heard you’re… talented. That’s all.” She responded coolly. “Really.” I raised my eyebrows a fraction. I saw the opening, so I went for it. “Look. If you accompany me to the party maybe you can explain to me why I’m so talented. How about it?” “No.” the reply was definite. I had to try provoking her. I’d tried every other line I knew. “What is it, past your bedtime? Or maybe you just can’t handle your booze?” I needled. I knew that it had worked when Avril turned and glared at me. “Fuck you. I’ll show you who can drink. I’ll drink you under the table. Follow me. And that I did, walking just alongside her. I didn’t try and make conversation because I thought I’d just get sworn at in return. It did give me some pleasure though, knowing I’d got under her skin. This girl wasn’t as hard as she cracked herself up to be. We reached the Pavilion where the party was being held and went in through the VIP entrance, neither of us having to show our passes. Avril headed straight to the drinks tables, picking out two shot glasses. She handed me one, and I immediately drank down the neat vodka, feeling it burn my throat. I paused for breath. I looked at Avril. She had already downed more shot glasses than I had. “3 –1. I win. See ya.” With that she turned and left, and was soon lost in the crowd. Shaking my head I looked around, trying to find someone I knew, eventually settling for chatting with Sophie Ellis Bextor. Sophie is a nice girl, but not the most interesting of conversers, especially when the one sided chat consisted of her lecturing me about her campaign to stop the fur trade. I made my excuses and left her boring Ms Dynamite instead. Those two morality yardsticks were made for each other. Walking around the room I thought about leaving, I’d never been one for this sort of party. Nodding to the guys from Blue I made towards the exit, rubbing my tired eyes. Inevitably, walking blind I went straight into someone and started to apologize, then I saw whom it was. “Recovered from that drinking contest yet?” she was immediately in my face “It was hardly a fair fight, was it? I didn’t even know the rules,” I protested “You lost, face it.” She needled me mercilessly. I figured it hardly mattered what I said so I just gave it any old rubbish. “Maybe I did. Look, I’m on the way out, so I’ll see you around yeah?” I let my tone suggest my boredom. “You’re not going anywhere.” She knew she had some influence over me. “Stick around. You never know what might happen.” With that she moved off again, but not before slipping me a seductive wink. I gave a glance at my watch. I could afford another hour, surely? Especially if this was going the way it looked like. ************ I moved on, before catching sight of a familiar face on the other side of the room. He nodded discreetly, indicating that we should meet in one of the side rooms. I watched him disappear into a doorway, and after waiting a few minutes I followed him. I entered, and for a few seconds watched him flick ash from his cigar into a nearby tray. “They say that they’re bad for your health,” I lectured. “When I want your advice kid, I’ll ask for it.” It was a fair enough counter. “Any new developments?” I enquired. “I’m still searching. Look, are you sure about this? I mean, if she is guilty, fine. But if not, well, you loose your job.” His patronising attitude annoyed me. “Look, I know the risk. But she is guilty. Those documents were withheld. I intend to find them.” I stated. “I know. But bringing down your boss is a risky business. Won’t some mud stick to you as well? I suppose it wouldn’t hurt that you’ll get her job either, would it? Think of it, Jon Carter, Culture Minister at 24.” He said. “You always were a cynical git. I’m doing this because its better we find out than the press do, OK? Anyway, I’m going back to the party. See you when I get back from Europe.” He waved his cigar. “Bon Voyage.” I nodded in return and exited, leaving the Deputy Prime Minister in my wake. *************** I stayed for a while chatting to the rich and famous when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked round to see Avril. I tried to act surprised, and then spoke. “You seem to be following me around tonight!” I had to shout to be heard over the music. Avril gave me an evil smile. “Now that I’m a fully paid up rock chick, I have to start acting like it.” I gave it the old quizzical look. I genuinely had no idea what she meant. “Wanna fuck?” she elaborated. “Sure. Lets go!” I couldn’t believe my luck, scoring with one of the hottest young things around at the moment. I downed the rest of my tequila, and then pushed Avril towards the door. By this point the noise had grown to a crescendo, and I waited until we were outside to speak to her. “You serious about this?” I had no idea why I was asking. As if I wanted her to back down. “Totally. Come on, my hotel’s this way.” She took off at a run; the alcohol obviously had had its effect on her. I briefly considered asking her if she’d prefer to go to my flat in Westminster, but there was no way we’d both make it there in this condition. Jogging to keep up with Avril I caught sight of her just as she entered her hotel foyer in the next street. As I entered I caught sight of her tipping over a pedestal. The vase that had stood on it now lay on the floor in pieces, and a distraught receptionist was examining the remnants of the antique. “MISS LAVIGNE,” she attempted to call sternly after her. Avril just gave her the finger and started to climb the stairs, having become obviously sick of waiting for the elevator. I had no choice but to stop and laugh. The drink was getting to me as well and suddenly I found myself taking a liking to this fucked up girl. I caught sight of the receptionist staring at me and decided to take off before she realised that a Labour MP was blatantly drunk in front of her. Bounding up the stairs I suddenly I remembered had no idea what floor Avril had gone to, and I stopped at the landing to catch my breath. An arm grabbed me and I was pulled into a corridor off the stairwell. Avril forced her mouth onto mine, and I couldn’t resist grabbing her tits as I felt her tongue slip inside me. They were perky and small, but a nice handful to touch. I felt Avril make a grab for my belt, and in no time had the buckle undone and had begun to work on the button of my trousers. I had to get a hold of myself. I grasped her hands, preventing them from working. I made eye contact with her, and stared deep into her amazing baby blues, willing her to take some notice of me. “Look. If we do this here both of us will be on the front pages in the morning. And I don’t want that. So lets just find your room, yeah?” She appeared to have another fit of laughter before pulling me along the corridor to Suite 33. Safely inside her door she attacked my trousers again, and this time I kicked my shoes off and let them slide off me to the floor. Immediately grabbing at my dick through my boxers she let her hands massage it to life. I felt my cock spring upwards at her touch, her frantic actions masking an innate gentleness. She slipped her hand inside my boxers, never loosing contact with my eyes. She gripped my shaft, and began jerking me off. Her hand was small and warm around my shaft, and she took a slow pace, her free hand cupping and massaging my balls. She knew she was teasing me. I pushed my hands into her beautiful brown hair, placing them at the back of her head, and then pulling her closer for another kiss, slower and gentler this time as we began to appreciate each other more. Avril removed her hands from my dick, enticing a growl of disapproval from me. She sensed I was touchy and pulled away from the kiss. I immediately moved to her neck and began kissing and biting it gently, trying to arouse her. “Don’t worry, I’ll get back there soon enough. Its too good to miss out on.” Avril moved both hands to my tie and loosened it, then pulled one end so it fell from my neck. She began to unbutton my shirt, and was soon pushing it off my shoulders. I stood naked before her, and suddenly decided that it was about time I saw some of her. I tried to pull her T-shirt up, and Avril promptly pulled away from me and began to run towards the open doorway, shouting behind her in the process. “Sorry Jon. Not yet. Give me 2 minutes.” With that she slammed the bathroom door, leaving me and my raging hard on disappointed. I paused for a moment to look into the wall mirror in the room. Considering the hour and the amount I had drunk I looked OK. Short dark hair swept into a messy side parting, deep brown eyes and a friendly smile came back at me from the mirror. I had never been much to look at, but I thought being a nice guy made up for it. Add to that I had a half decent physique from working out most days and it became a nice all round package, one that Avril was obviously eager to experience. I kept staring in the mirror. Despite the fact I was still relatively young, 24 years on earth had given me a world weariness, something that was translated with the hangdog expression looking back at me. I wanted to regain some dignity and to stop walking buck naked around the room so I strode towards the bed and threw the covers back. I climbed in and pulled them back over me, sitting upright and leaning onto the headboard. It was my first time to think since I’d left the party, and I immediately realised how fucked up this situation was. I put the rational part of my brain on hold until morning and relaxed, shutting my eyes and trying to picture Avril nude. I heard the bathroom door open and close again, and the light switches being pulled. Avril must have looked at me because she spoke almost in exasperation. “Have you fallen asleep?” “No of course n…” I opened my eyes, and let out my breath sharply “Fuckiiiiiiing hell.” I said. “Thought you’d like it,” she responded, with a cute half smile on her face. I almost had to shake my head in disbelief. Standing not 10 feet away from me was Avril, wearing an amazing black lace bra and panties set with the full matching stockings and suspenders. I thought I was going to pass out; my dick was harder than steel. I kept my gaze on her. The tacky jewellery was gone, and her hair lay beautifully over her shoulders. Underneath the cargo trousers and t-shirts there was an incredibly sexy woman. “You look. Amazing.” I noted Avril gave a small awkward smile, a nice gesture of vulnerability from a girl whose business it was to act tough. “I feel amazing. Fuck me. Please.” I held out one hand, and threw the covers back with my other. She grasped it and climbed into the bed, positioning herself on top of me. I couldn’t believe the contrast to earlier. Gone was the stroppy girl, in her place a beautiful, sexy woman. I ran my hands down her legs, admiring the smoothness of the stockings. Avril shuddered at my touch, and forced her tongue deeper into my mouth, almost and involuntary action. I grasped her ass, enjoying its firmness as I squeezed it gently. Avril meanwhile was kissing and nibbling her way down my chest. I looked down; her tits looked amazing in that bra. Letting my hands travel up her back I unhooked the clasp and slid it down her arms, before grabbing her breasts and squeezing them together, teasing her nipples with my fingers. They were hard, and I enjoyed the firmness of her young breasts. Avril moaned, and I felt her hands begin to work my cock again, giving me the perfect handjob, letting me savour the moment and her touch. I kept my hands on her tits, tracing their outline with my fingers. Avril jerked and moved her hands around my dick and pace, and I loved her touch. I lay back and shut my eyes. “Oh fuck Avril, I’m coming,” I managed to pant. Her reactions were amazing. Instantly she stopped and shifted upwards so that she was on top of me again. She looked at me, “No, you’re not coming now. Later. When we fuck.” I didn’t move my hands from her breasts. I continued to enjoy the soft contours, and inquired of Avril, “Oh. What would you like to do now then?” She bent her mouth to my ear and nibbled on the lobe seductively. “Well. I’ve never had a guy get me off before.” She whispered. I shifted my hands down her body, and slipped my fingers inside her panties, gently tracing her pussy lips, enjoying the wetness on them. “You mean like this” I responded in an equally low tone. “Oh god yes. Get those fingers inside me. Now” I didn’t quite have the heart to disobey her order. I gently parted her cunt with one finger, and Avril buried her head in my shoulder, moaning gently. Not for long though. “Oh fuck!” she shouted I had jammed two fingers inside her, and I was now forcing them in and out as fast as I could, slipping around in her sopping wet pussy. I knew Avril was seriously aroused and it wouldn’t take much of this to make her come. I decided to make her enjoy this even more; I twisted my hand so that I could gently tweak her clit with my thumb. At the first touch Avril bit into my shoulder, moaning and twisting her body above me. She was close, desperately close. I pushed my fingers in a little harder, silently urging her to come. Sure enough she reached her climax, writhing on top of me and moaning. “ohhohhhhhh God. Oh fucking hell. That felt soooo good.” She said. “mmmm. And it’s going to get better as well.” I only hoped I could deliver on my promise. “Damn right.” Avril kissed the tip of my nose before giving her order. “And I’m going on top as well.” I laughed, before replying to the questioning look on her face. “You think you’re so aggressive. I could take you over any time though!” Her face softened, and in the dull light of the room I saw the pensive look on her face. “I’m not like that all the time. You’re with Avril now, not the music star you saw earlier.” I nodded, appreciating her honesty. “Cool. So, what does Avril want to do?” “This.” She grabbed my prick, still rock hard after not getting the attention it craved. I unclipped her stockings, a rolled them away from her panties. Hooking my fingers into her black underwear I slid them down her legs, before returning my hands to grasp her ass. Avril slid down my body until we were perfectly aligned, as close to symmetry as man and woman will ever get. She moved her hips, running the tip of my dick along her opening. She was sopping wet, her body was tense from arousal. I took a deep breath and tried to relax, or else I was going to blow my load right now. Suddenly Avril thrust forward, impaling herself on my cock, jamming herself as far as she could on to me. I felt the tip of my dick touch the back wall of her cunt. She was so tight, and even my modest dick was enough to fill her completely. Recovering from her first thrust Avril drew back and went again, as we tried to establish a rhythm. I thought Avril would have very little sexual experience, but she seemed to know enough to set a nice tempo, enabling me to meet her every thrust. European Travels Ch. 01 I lay back into the pillows and just watched Avril. Her eyes were closed as she rode me, forcing my dick wherever she wanted it. Her hair was flaying wildly, and her face was tensed as she fought for her orgasm. I raised my hands up to her breasts, cupping them underneath her small mounds. All the while I kept my eyes trained on her face, enjoying her ecstasy. Anything to distract me and delay my orgasm. Avril’s face started to flush, an indication of her getting closer. Subconsciously she quickened her pace, and her tits started to bounce in my hands. I dug my palms into them, ensuring that they couldn’t move. She had one final request. “mmm, suck my tits.” There was no way I was going to deny her this. I lowered my mouth to her breast and gently bit into the flesh, nearing the rock hard nipple. I moved to it, and engulfed it in my mouth, teasing it. Avril went faster still, my stimulation had almost got her there. I felt my cum boiling over in my balls, there was no way I could hold on any longer. “oh fuck I’m cumming.” I gasped out. “oh me too,” she panted. Suddenly the moment arrived. My dick was fully inside her, and pussy clamped down onto it, her orgasm arriving fractionally before mine. I was almost oblivious to Avril’s moans as I emptied my balls into her for what seemed like forever; every drop of cum was going inside her. Her pussy gripped my dick like a vice, it felt like every last bit I had was being squeezed out of me. Avril was breathing heavily, obviously enjoying her orgasm. As I finished I felt my dick soften, and it was moistened by my cum and Avril’s juices. She collapsed on top of me, devoid of energy after her exertion and tangible reward. I pushed strands of hair behind her ears as she raised herself up onto her elbows and stared into my eyes. No words were necessary, nor were they forthcoming. Avril gently kissed me on the lips and relaxed into me. We lay together on the bed, each reflecting on the events of the past hour. I still had a few questions though. I tried to stir Avril, who was lying across me, and I had my arms locked around her. “Avril” I said. She turned over and began necking me gently. “Uh huh.” I was starting to wonder if this girl knew much proper English. “Back at the party. You said you’d heard some stories about me. What about them?” “Stories… Eh, I was just bullshitting. I wanted to score with an English guy and I’d seen your picture in the paper. I thought you were a hottie, and here we are.” Her flippant attitude made the story seem less complicated than it really was. I let out a short laugh. I’d been done well and truly. “Bitch. So the whole evening I thought I was trying to chat you up but…” “But I had you completely.” Avril completed. “Sucks doesn’t it?” “Not really. I still got laid.” I said. “And a damn good lay it was as well.” “Thank you. Any chance of it happening again sometime?” I asked more in hope than expectation. Avril thought for a moment. “Maybe, yeah.” I thought I sensed some uncertainty in her voice, so I decided to help her out. “Look, I have to go early in the morning. I’ll leave a number on the table, and its up to you if you ring it or not. OK?” “Yeah. Look, if your going early you’re going to need some sleep.” I looked at the clock. 00:45. Concurring with Avril I settled back into the bed. She lay her head on my chest and I put my arm around her, trying do draw her closer. As I went to sleep I couldn’t help but dream. Maybe we had started something good. Just maybe. Outside the room, London carried on regardless, providing the perfect contrast to the tranquillity of the scene. Morning came, and I gently rose from the bed and slipped on my clothes, being careful not to wake the sleeping girl next to me. I left a mobile number and e-mail address on the pillow, hoping that she might contact me. Hell, even if she didn’t I had an amazing evening to remember. Walking towards the door I cast a final look backwards at Avril, drinking in every detail of her. With a quick movement I was gone, leaving the room. Exiting the hotel I walked out onto the street, just another commuter in London Town. I walked along the pavement, my head buried in thought over the last night. To say that Avril had surprised me was an understatement. I had judged her all wrong, in assuming that her public face was her private one. It annoyed me because if anything, I should know from my own experience that it isn’t always the case. I always behaved differently in relation to the company I kept, so why should she be any different? I felt my phone begin to vibrate, and I withdrew it from the pocket of my coat. The ring grew louder as I delayed answering. I was bemused by the ‘Private Number’ display. I pressed the button and held the handset to my ear. “Hello. Jon Carter.” I said. “Carter. Listen carefully. Drop your investigation, or you will find yourself in a whole heap of trouble.” I didn’t recognise the voice. “Who is this?” I intoned. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you will loose out if you don’t listen to me. If you ignore us, we will hurt you. And maybe that pretty thing you’ve just left in that hotel room as well.” My voice immediately toughened. “Leave her out of this, she knows nothing.” “She won’t become involved unless you don’t do as your told.” The smoothness of the voice contrasted the message. Before I could respond, the caller hung up. I replaced the phone in my coat, and thought about the call. It hadn’t intimidated me, if anything I was more determined to carry on. The thought of Avril getting hurt scared me though. On some strange level I did care for the girl, and no way did she deserve any of this shit. One thing did worry me. Only two of us knew about my investigation, but the information had leaked out somehow. Someone obviously didn’t want the truth to come out. I resolved to defy them, and carried on striding purposefully towards the station. I was bound for Waterloo International, and the 10:30 Eurostar train. Destination, Paris. ***************** Part II: “Parisian Nights” coming soon. Ó Peter Von Grunigan 2003 European Travels Ch. 02 Usual Words. This story is a work of fiction; no inference with real people or events is intended. You must be 18 to read this story. If your not, just read it anyway. You might learn something. This continues my first series, so watch this space over the coming months for the next installments. Feedback and constructive criticism would be nice. It offers a huge amount of encouragement, as well as providing useful analysis. I can't get better at this unless you guys give me some input. Just a quick recap of Chapter One. "London Calling" Jon Carter attended the BRIT Awards, and hooked up with Avril Lavigne at the after show party. After spending the night with her he left for Paris, which is where we pick up the story. Anyhow. Enough of me, read on into the action. * * * * * Chapter Two : Parisian Nights The Eurostar train slid into Gare de Nord, Paris at precisely 13:31. Disembarking and collecting my luggage I cleared security and then hailed a taxi. Stowing my belongings in the boot I climbed in, "Hotel de Paris, s'il vous plait." I instructed. "Oui monsieur." The standard response of any taxi driver. I settled back and thought about my plans for the weekend. Today and tomorrow were diplomatic exercises, I was to confer with French Officials about a possible joint bid for the 2010 Football World Cup. Sunday was shaping up to be a great day, as I had the morning free to explore Paris, something I'd always wanted to do. Even though I had been to the city several times they were always flying visits, with no opportunity for leisure time. Sunday afternoon I was going to give a lecture at the Universite Paris on the consequences of war was Iraq, one more opinion on the world's hottest topic. I lay back in the seat and closed my eyes. I thought of Avril, she would probably be on a plane back to the States or Canada by now. I wondered if she would ever call me. There was no point worrying about it though, I couldn't influence her decision. Opening my eyes I surveyed one of the great symbols of Paris, the Arc de Triomphe. The skies above it were dull, and I couldn't help but wonder if my business appointments would be the same way. * * * * * Meanwhile, back in London. At 10 Downing Street Harry Mortimer and the Prime Minister were deep in conversation, discussing the photo in that day's paper. The Sun lay on the table, the centre pages revealed a spread on the BRIT Awards after show party. In particular the two men focused on the picture of Jon Carter and Avril Lavigne walking from the building. The headline screamed "LAVIGNE LET'S GO WITH PLAYBOY CARTER" The Prime Minister was almost screaming as well. "What the hell does that kid think he is doing? Leaving a party with some bimbo on his arm!" The Press Advisor shook his head, out of the Minister's vision. As if he was going to know who Avril Lavigne was. "Look, he's young. He's just having a little fun." He protested. "Fun? I didn't give him his post so he could have a little fun! Where is he?" There was no stopping the Prime Minister in this mood, and Harry knew it. "He's on some kind of European tour, Sir. You sent him on it to make sure we aren't obstructed in bidding for the World Cup with France." The Press Secretary tried not to sound patronizing. The Prime Minister just glared at him, then issued his order. "When he gets back to London, arrange a meeting. I'll get it into him that he can't go about having a little 'fun'. We've got local elections soon, this is the sort of stunt that gets you booted out of office. Mind you, he'll be lucky if I let him run." The Press Secretary decided it was worth raising a point. "Sir. We've conducted polls already this morning. 40% of voters said they were indifferent to his behaviour, and another 40% praised him for it. Only 10% of those polled suggested it might affect their vote. The public love him, something like this isn't going to damage his reputation." He said. The Prime Minister turned away in ignorance. "Get him here, Harry." He commanded. Knowing when a meeting was over, the Press Secretary gathered his things and left the room, realising Jon Carter was probably about to be removed from the front bench. * * * * * Come Sunday morning I was sick of diplomatic discussions. My French was OK, but not good enough to pacify several irate Frenchmen who believed that they should have sole control of any World Cup bid. You know the old saying "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer"? It's kind of like that with us and the French. They live right next door to us, and are biologically identical, but it's a whole different race, one to which I had little clue about its workmanship. Exiting the hotel in casual clothes I turned towards the river, walking slowly into the fog and gloom of a Paris morning. The air was damp and clammy, and the streets were quiet. Almost the same as a winter's morning back home. I crossed the Seine at Pont de la Tournelle. I stood on the Ile St. Louis and turned a full 360 degrees, enjoying the panoramic view of the city from ground level. Turning left onto Quai D'Orleans I hurried along the pavement. Trying to burrow deeper into my coat, I thrust my hands into the pockets in a desperate attempt to keep out of the cold. Spying a small jetty shrouded in fog, I walked onto it and stood silently. For seconds all I heard was the lapping of the water against the wooden boards, I was oblivious to the faint sounds of traffic. The river still had traces of mist lying across it, and the far bank was nearly obscured. I still managed to sight a solitary figure on the shore, wearily moving bricks from a fallen wall. I kept my sight on him as I thought about my life. Who was Jon? No – one. I didn't have a family, I had few friends, I was anonymous. I suppose its my own fault really, politics became my single goal, I lost touch with those who I had once known. When my parents died I was 22, and in the two years that had passed since then I had drifted from life itself. I had my career, but that was about it. Mr Carter was an amazing professional, but he didn't have much of a life outside of it. Jon Carter was buried under the bricks. The wall had collapsed, but there was no one to rebuild it. Sure, I had tried, but, like the man on the shore, I was facing a fruitless task. I lowered myself to the ground, and sat cross legged, my eyes still intently watching the man. He had been joined by an accomplice, and between the two of them they were constructing the foundations of a new wall. I allowed myself to fantasise, just for a few seconds. Maybe Avril could help me start over. I silently begged her to ring the number I had left. During the night with her I had awoken, and lay there, enjoying the warmth and company of a loving body next to me. I gave a rueful smile and shook my head. Who was I kidding? I was probably another one night fling to the Canadian singer, never to be given a second thought by her. Still, if I closed my eyes I could touch her, and relive that night. At least I didn't have to worry about her getting hurt if I never saw her again. A hand grasped my shoulder firmly; I bolted forward, just catching my balance in time to stop myself falling into the murky water. Spinning over onto my back I tried to speak, but my words caught in the surprise. "Hey! What the hell?" I tailed off as I overcame the shock. The figure had also been startled by my reaction. The person was cloaked in a great coat, with the collar turned up, obscuring the lower half of their face. The eyes though, gave the femininity of the figure away, and the amazing features easily showed the shock and fright of the woman. She backed away, stuttering. "Excuse e moi, oh, er, Sorry. I'm so sorry." "Je pense si! Pour quel était cela?" I spoke angrily. She was just about to turn, but by this time I had regained some composure. I realised there had been a flash of English in the madness. "Hey. Wait. Did you want to talk to me?" I said. The figure moved no closer, but spoke with a more assured tone this time. "You seemed lonely, upset. I just wanted to see if you were OK." She said. "I'm fine, thank you very much. I appreciate you asking though." I paused. "I was just sitting here, thinking". "Yes, I come here sometimes. May I join you?" the stranger asked. I shrugged. I didn't really want company at the moment, but it was a free country. I motioned for her to take a seat. She lowered herself next to me, and turned down the collar of her coat. I cast a quick look at her, before returning my gaze to the water. My mind suddenly caught up with my vision, and my head snapped back towards her. She gazed into my eyes for a second as I studied her. Surely there was no mistaking the face, not when I had seen it so many times. I elected to try my luck. "Can I ask? Are you Virgine…? "Ledoyen." She completed my question for me. "Yes. Are you Jon Carter?" I briefly considered denial as a route of choice, then realised my momentary pause had probably answered the question. Settling for a simple nod I heard her continue. "I've watched you for a little while, I was so sure it was you. I came over to see." She explained. "Well." I stopped for a second. "Thank you. May I ask how you know me?" "I attended a lecture in London a few weeks ago. You gave a talk on Anglo French cooperation over Iraq. It was interesting, I enjoyed it." She said. "Cooperation didn't exactly happen did it? That lecture got me into a lot of trouble." I smiled ruefully. "Oh, and why was that?" she pressed. "We all have to toe the party line on Iraq, in public at least." I moved on, eager to avoid any more questioning on that issue. Once again my acting before thinking had caused another dressing down from the Prime Minister. It is safe to say the two of us are not best friends, and never will be. "I must say, I've enjoyed some of your films, En Plein Coeur particularly. She smiled, and her face lit up, accentuating her sharp Gallic features. She looked down awkwardly, but I knew enough about women to see she had liked the compliment. Virginie paused to think, choosing the best words for her reply. "Usually many people only recognise me from 'The Beach', its so nice to be praised for my other work. I finally realised that meeting a major film star by the Seine wasn't an everyday occurrence. "What brings you to the river, Ms Ledoyen?" I asked. She gave a light laugh, a beautiful sound. "Its Virginie, please, or just Ginie, if you prefer." I nodded, so she continued. "I live in Paris when I'm not away working. I often just walk around in the mornings, and if I dress like this people don't really recognise me. I just come to the river to think, the same as you perhaps." I had to question the wisdom of being out on a morning like this. "Haven't you got a nice warm house to think in?" My tone of voice indicated that the question was a light hearted one. She answered it seriously anyway though. "Of course I have a flat nearby. But it is lonely, empty. Acting leaves you with few friends to call on. So I come outside, and at least I see other people. How about you?" she asked. "Well, the same, really. If you substitute politics for acting anyway." I hesitated, digesting her statement. "How come you don't have many friends in acting?" "I think," she tilted her head slightly, "people are scared to approach me." She said. My silence gave way to her continuation. "I suppose it's about people being scared to approach celebrities. Most people don't know how to talk to me, it hurts sometimes. I get very lonely." She said. I avoided her gaze. "You can sit here and talk to me if you like?" I offered. I looked up to see the same smile from a few minutes ago looking at me. "Thank you, I'd like that." She said. We both settled on the jetty, looking out over the strip of water. For several seconds I waited, trying to prepare an intelligent question. I teased my eyes sideways, enjoying the image. Long black hair framed a rounded face, one that could communicate any emotion at a moment's notice. My memory shifted to my last year of school, and a Business Ethics lesson. The poster that occupied the far wall of the room always asked a rhetorical question. I spoke it out loud. "If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be?" Virginie gave me an odd look, with her eyebrows slightly raised. "A very curious question?" she said, her language problems causing the sentence to break down. I knew what she meant though. "I thought I'd ask something directly. Its normally my style." I said, with a smile on my face. "Since you ask, I shall answer. Real friends would be nice, you know, people who will always be with you, but don't demand from you. Tu comprendes?" Virginie stopped abruptly, realising her instinctive lapse back into her native tongue. She made to apologise, but I began first. "Its fine. I speak French fairly well. It took me a long time to learn though. And yes, I do know what you mean. People who will be there for you in times of trouble." I elaborated. "Oui, exactement! I can be on my own, but it would be much nicer to have friends, or a boyfriend even." She again turned towards the river, breaking the eye contact we had engineered. "I live alone in London. I survive, but I would like someone with me. I've got no right to complain about my lot though." I speculated idly on my life. Virginie's face tightened. "Your, lot?" she asked. It was obvious she hadn't understood the phrase. "Oh, er, my lot. My life as a whole." I explained with a wave of my hand. "OK." She gave a look to the Cartier wristwatch on her arm. "I'm sorry Jon, I must go. I have things to do later." She said. We both rose, and I extended my hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you Virginie. If you are ever in London, come and find me." I made a genuine offer, not one stemming from courtesy. I handed her my card. "I shall do that." She fiddled with the collar of her coat. "Au revoir, Jon." I chose not to reply verbally, instead just lifting my hand in acknowledgment. Virginie turned and walked away. I watched her disappear over the bridge, noting that the early morning mist had started to clear. Checking the time myself, I realised I had to get going if I was to get to the Universite on time. * * * * * I heard the hushed voices in the auditorium, and I felt my hands shake as I straightened my tie. The fear is something I had never shaken off, even after a few years of speech giving. I knew it would resolve itself as soon as I got to the podium, so there was not much I could do but accept it. The Compere began on stage. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I give to you, The Right Honourable Gentleman, Mr Jon Carter MP." He withdrew from the podium, and I emerged from the wings, accepting the polite applause from the gathered people. Easy, long strides took me to the front, where I deposited my cue cards, and took a sip of water. I waited for the applause to subside before beginning. "The world today is at war. As a people, we tried to stand as a democratic barrier to that. World leaders, great men, believe that violence is the only way to solve this conflict." I paused, allowing the audience to digest my opening remarks. Sure enough, the fear in my stomach had gone. Relaxing into the atmosphere, I continued. "However, I'm not here to debate the merits of war. I'm here to talk about possible consequences of such a war. Now, I know there are a lot of us in here today, but can I just have a show of hands. Who thinks the American motive for the war is control of Iraqi oil reserves?" I turned my full attention to the audience, noting the show of hands. I scanned the crowd, noting that many people had hands in the air. I finished my perusing in the front row. Suddenly I stopped dead. Sitting demurely not 15 feet away from me was Virginie Ledoyen. We locked eyes, and she tilted her head slightly and smiled at me. I continued through my speech, occasionally punctuating my remarks with a glance at Virginie. Each time she responded to me, either with a smile or a wink. * * * * * I came to my closing statement. "Ladies and Gentleman, I hope that you have all learnt something from my words this afternoon, and I thank you for listening." With that I stood back from the podium, accepting the warm applause coming from the crowd. For me, it is one of the most satisfying, moments in politics, knowing that people have respected and enjoyed my thoughts. At this point I looked again to the front row, and I was disappointed to find that Virginie had left already. My mind was ticking over ; why didn't she mention to me that she was coming? I left the stage, en route to the room the staff had kindly provided for me. Reaching the door, I entered, contemplating the closing of my official business in France. I walked straight to my briefcase to deposit my cue cards, aiming for a quick exit. "Well, hello." The voice came from the furthest corner of the room. I didn't need three guesses to realise who it was. Without turning towards her I spoke, "Are you stalking me?" I asked jokingly. She laughed. "Non, I came to congratulate you on your lecture." "C'est bien?" I asked. "Tres bien" she replied, a smile hidden behind her eyes. She emerged from the dark corner, and like a true orator, began her words with dignity, belying the message she delivered. "I said earlier, that I was lonely." She paused. "I didn't just mean I don't have many friends, also, I know few men." She seductively ran her hands down the gap in her top. As she stood, I noticed how elegant she looked in a plaid skirt and blue shirt. With every movement she exuded confidence, and her hair was framed perfectly around her face. As I admired her form, her speech continued. "Mr Carter, I find you very attractive." She said. I moved my gaze, trying to play embarrassed. There is, however, a good reason why I'm not an actor, and so my emotions were obvious. I hoped against everything I had that this was going the right way. "You are lonely; I am lonely. We could be so good for each other." She continued her powerful words. By now she had completed the journey across the room, and stopped right in front of me. She raised her hands, and began to play with my tie. No more words were necessary. She pulled it loose, and threw it to the floor, before starting on my shirt. As she fiddled with the buttons I lost myself for a moment, peering past her shoulder. I began to cast doubts on my own mental sanity. I thought I must have been hallucinating. How might Oscar Wilde have put it? To have one celebrity throw herself at you could be regarded as rare, to have two in a week seemed like a product of Jon's dreamland. Virginie tugging upwards on my shirt ended my philosophising. I looked in to her eyes, enjoying the mischievous expression. I leaned in to kiss her, forcing her mouth open aggressively, slipping my tongue inside. She reciprocated, showing a slight passiveness to counter me. I broke the short kiss, and lowered myself to her neck. Starting at the base, I ran my tongue up over her throat as she titled her head backwards to allow me a better angle. Her skin tasted of expensive soaps and perfumes; everything I would have expected her to wear. Her button up shirt was plain, but obviously expensive, no doubt hand made in a Paris boutique. I took care to unbutton it and push it away from her shoulders, revealing the plain white bra underneath. Again, plain, but exquisitely crafted. It did just enough to accentuate her breasts without hiding her natural curves. Now that she had removed my shirt, it was Virginie's turn to move along my neckline, placing passive kisses on my shoulder blade. I leaned into her and wove my arms around her back, using my fingers to deftly unhook her bra. European Travels Ch. 02 The garment fell to the floor, and I tilted my body backwards, shifting my eyes down at the same time. Even in the harsh lighting of the dressing room, Virginie's breasts looked perfect, spread an even distance apart, the erect nipples jutting out proudly. I went to move my hands to feel them, wanting at the first opportunity to experience the contours of her body. Even at this early stage of foreplay, my excitement, and the lump in my trousers was steadily growing. Suddenly Virginie dropped to her knees, denying me what I wanted. I let out a small growl to show my disappointment. "You don't want me to do this?" she asked. Without waiting for a reply she ripped my boxers down, exposing my cock, now fully hard in anticipation. Without a word she grabbed it with her hand, stroking her fingers up and down my shaft, while using her free hand to cup my balls. Her long nails tickled my skin, almost overloading my senses. I could barely wait for what she was going to do. Very slowly and deliberately she moved her head towards my dick, she blew her breath out through her mouth, the warm air felt great on my balls. I finally regained physical control over my body, and immediately took my hands to her hair, running my palms through it. The long black locks felt great against my fingers, and whenever Virginie gave me a little extra pleasure I gave a small tug on it. Virginie finally took me into her mouth, gently easing my cock inside her as she ran her tongue along the side. It was so gentle, but amazingly arousing. She seemed to be quite experienced in this art, and it somehow aroused me even more to think of this elegant actress as a slutty cocksucker. I stood silently as she sucked me off, concentrating totally on the sensations she gave me. Virginie was always varying her actions, so I was never allowed to settle. She almost took my entire length inside her, then withdrew again. Sometimes her pace was fast, others it seemed like she had almost stopped. Virginie took great delight in biting at my cock with her teeth, and finally pushed her pace to an extreme, forcing me nearer to an orgasm. I looked down, her tits were swaying gently with her body as she was shifting, trying to get a better angle on my cock. I had used every fibre of my mental strength to hold out and delay my orgasm, but it was now coming whether I liked it or not. I tried to pull back from Virginie, who drew her hands around my legs, and clamped down on my shaft gently, preventing me from withdrawing. I let out an involuntary shudder of excitement. No woman had ever let me cum in her mouth before, now I had a sexy celebrity on her knees practically begging me to do so. Virginie took me back slightly so that only my tip was inside her mouth, and then gently ran her tongue over it. Before I knew it I was cumming, firing out into her waiting lips. Her swallowing action felt amazing with the cum being sucked out of me, it was one of the most intense orgasms of my life. In seconds it was over, my softening cock and heavy breathing the only evidence of my pleasure. Without realising it I had closed my eyes, I reopened them and focused downwards. Virginie looked up at me, a slight rope of my cum running down her chin. She used the back of her hand to wipe it, and then gave me a wide smile. I just stood, with a dizzy grin on my face, not quite believing the last few minutes weren't a dream. The whole experience suddenly got too much for me, and I tried to sit down. Therein was my basic problem. I tried to sit down with my trousers bunched round my ankles, and no chair in sight. With a hard thump I sat on the floor, fortunately carpeted so I didn't hurt myself too much. Virginie burst out laughing, compounding my misery. I was well aware I had just made a total fool of myself without having it rubbed it. I hung my head sheepishly and tried to play for the sympathy vote. "Guess I killed the mood, huh?" trying to mask embarrassment with humour. "Oui," was all she managed before dissolving into another fit of giggles. She finally stopped, looking at me apologetically. "I'm sorry." Her face made it plain that she wasn't in the slightest. I shrugged. Her mock sorrow made me feel no better. Her next words though, did. "Want to go again?" she asked. I tried to crawl across the floor towards her, but she placed her hands on my shoulders, stopping me from rising to meet her. "No, not here. Tonight maybe. You have a hotel?" I frantically searched my mind for the details. "Yes. Hotel de Paris, Suite 34." I said. Virginie raised her eyebrows, apparently impressed with my choice of accommodation. "8 o'clock?" she asked. As if I was going to say no! I settled for a nod, and with that she pulled on her sweater, stuffing her bra into a handbag that I had failed to notice previously. Within a few strides she was at the door and opening it. Turning, she blew me a kiss before departing. I lay back full length on the floor, well aware that anyone entering would wonder what I was doing fully exposed. Not wanting such an idea to come to fruition I stood up, pulled up my trousers and then swiftly put my shirt on. Finally making myself presentable again I gathered my belongings and left, my mind spinning at what had just transpired. I'd never really thought of politics being a sure fire chick puller, but it seems I was wrong. The thoughts of Government cleared my mind instantly, reminding me that I was still investigating this corruption. All that could wait until the morning though. I walked back to the hotel, scarcely containing my excitement at the thought of what the evening might bring. * * * * * After spending the rest of the afternoon and part of the early evening walking in the main part of Paris, I headed back to the hotel. I walked along the main corridor, cursing the fact that I had returned just as the cleaning staff had started on my hallway. I almost went flying over a cable, and gave the man using the appliance a shake of the head. There was something odd about him though, like he just looked out of place. I dismissed the notion, and fumbled for my wallet. The swipe card opened the door first try, and I stepped into my hotel room, enjoying the warmth. Paris in March is cold, and walking all the way from the Universite had made me exposed to it. I began to remove my jacket, when I was shocked by a voice. "I was wondering when you'd get here," a familiar tone said. For just a fraction of a second I couldn't place it, then it came to me. I turned, a greeting smile on my face. "Paul. What the hell are you doing here?" I held my hand out, which he grasped and shook. Paul Deighton is a member of MI6, assigned directly to the Government. Threat detection was his specialty, and he had been working inside the Culture department as an intelligence source for a while now. Probably due to the fact that we were the same age and had a lot in common, we had become quite good allies, if not really friends. "I figured you could use my help," Paul said. I began to get some beers from the minibar. "Oh, how's that?" I questioned. I offered a 1664 to him, which he rose to accept. As I handed Paul his beer, he settled back in his chair, preparing for a story. "At 8:30 Friday morning, MI6 screened a call to your mobile. MI6, or to be more precise, me. I heard the guy who threatened you, he sounded as if he meant business. I may have some information for you, but first, I need to know what you are investigating." I paused, before starting to tell my story. I trusted Paul implicitly, his security clearance went almost to the top, and he was in line for a top job at The Firm within 10 years. "You remember the London Olympic bid last month?" He nodded. "That bid divided most of the cabinet, and it ended up a 50 / 50 split on the vote. Among those who didn't want the bid to proceed were the Prime Minister, and my boss, the Culture Secretary." I walked to the window, and observed the Eiffel Tower, preparing my next words. "The others who voted against the bid were easily swayable though. So, an independent study was commissioned by my Office, which subsequently found that such a bid, if successful would most likely create a positive effect for London during the next 15 years." I paused to take a hit of my beer, then continued. "The report they produced was delivered to me, and I prepared to present it to the Cabinet. The data in the report was sure to mean a yes vote to any bid, as it could sway the undecided ministers. Before I gave that speech, the report was taken and destroyed. My investigation is to find out by whom" "Couldn't you just get another copy of the report?" Paul asked. "No. Since it was classified Top Secret at that point, only the PM could request another one. I could hardly go to him and say I lost it, could I? Anyway, I had no idea who produced it. As I said, it was an independent report. To ensure that we can't influence the researchers, we aren't told who they are." "So who destroyed the report?" Paul continued his questions. I subtly glanced at my watch. I really didn't want Virginie arriving with Paul here. I wasn't going to let anything stand in the way of this evening's fun. "My boss, I presume. You see, to be elevated to the very top level in this Government, you have to get on with the PM. One of the Cronies, if you like. Anyway, the Chancellor and the PM decided against the Olympic Bid since they didn't want to allocate the funding. By siding with them, my boss probably hoped to get a spot in the Home or Foreign Office in the next reshuffle. I know it's a little thin as far as conspiracy theories go, but it's all I can think of." Paul sat there nodding. "You've got it all worked out. And, to a point you're right." My jaw was almost on the carpet in disbelief, so Paul continued. "MI6 monitor most Government communications. Last Monday I heard two phone calls, each less than 20 seconds. The first one instructed that report be destroyed. We know the number dialled, it was your bosses'. So, she did destroy the report. The second call was the reciprocator, confirming the destruction. The problem is, we don't know who made the first call. No one answers when the number is rung." "Can't you trace the SIM Card?" I had a feeling I was asking a patronizing question. Paul's withering look confirmed it. "What do you take me for? Anyhow, the phone is simply registered to Government issue, a Pay and Go mobile. The interesting bit is though, is that mobile was the one from which the call that threatened you was made. Hence I found you as fast as I could." Paul looked at his watch. "Look, I have to go. I need to be in Geneva by 9 tonight. Damn body guarding business." He held up a document wallet. "This folder has all the information in it, including the number of that mobile, and transcripts of all the phone calls." Paul handed the folder to me and made his way to the door. As he opened it he turned and looked at me. "Oh, one other thing," he said. "What was it like to fuck Avril Lavinge?" I laughed. "The only way I'll reveal that is with a gun pointing at my head!" Paul opened his coat slightly, showing me the Glock 9mm that all MI6 field officers carry. "Don't tempt me Carter." he said. "Later" I gave a half hearted wave and watched as he slammed the door behind him. Placing my empty beer bottle on the table I collapsed on the bed. Raising my hands, I massaged my temples and then ran then through my short hair. I could feel a headache coming, and that wasn't the best frame of mind to be meeting Virginie in. This situation was getting worse by the day, and I remembered the warning the Deputy Prime Minister had given me. "I mean, if she is guilty, fine. But if not, well, you probably loose your job." I could hear his deep, rumbling voice inside my head. I thought of the threat I'd received Friday morning, and briefly wondered whether to take heed and drop my investigation. I immediately dispatched that idea ; even if I wanted to, the Deputy Minister knew about it, and would hopefully carry on regardless. That was part of the reason why I'd approached him in the first place when I had suspected foul play. He was committed to seeing a clean Government, one which had truly done its part for Britain. He was one of the old school, and I knew he wouldn't betray my trust. I pushed the thoughts from my mind, letting the anticipation of tonight wash through me. I jumped up and headed for the shower, hiding the folder in my briefcase first. * * * * * I used the dimmer switch to darken the room. I had always found a dull light in a room very sexy, darkness even more so. It allows you to concentrate solely on the touch and contours of a body, rather than just visual sighting. The knock on the door came precisely at 20:06. She was fashionably late. I took a deep breath and opened it, allowing Virginie to enter. She stepped into the centre of the room, and I surveyed her as I closed the door. Her simple short skirt and sweater served only to accentuate her beauty and elegance. Her poise exuded a confidence that wouldn't easily be broken. I debated how to greet her, eventually settling for a quick kiss on the lips. "Are you comfortable standing? Maybe you would prefer the floor?" Ginie's smile made the reference obvious. It was the first time I had seen her sense of humour, and I didn't really like it, not pointing at me. Something inside me snapped. It was only a small tease, on a totally minor topic, but it broke me. The pressure that was inside me had boiled to the surface, and Virginie was about to receive the channelled anger. I thought of her innocent line. Not wanting to be reminded of the latter parts of the afternoon's events, I strode towards her quickly, immediately trapping her with a forceful kiss on the lips. This was going to be hard and fast; the time for dancing around each other was over. Virginie eagerly responded to my kiss, obligingly lifting her arms so I could pull her sweater up and over her head. This time I wasn't to be denying caressing her tits. Again I wrapped my arms around her and unclipped her bra, before moving my hands to her breasts, squeezing them roughly. Virginie's moans were signal enough to me that she was enjoying the coarse treatment of her body, so I began to let my hands roam over her, returning to kiss her forcefully at the same time. Ginie just stood with me, giving in to my frantic desires. I couldn't even think about moving to the bed, I just pulling downwards, sending both of us to the floor. We never broke our kiss for an instant as she landed on top of me. We were now writhing about on the fur rug on the floor in the centre of the room. I felt Virginie furiously pull at my trousers, it was obvious she was in the same mood that I was. I bucked my hips into the air, forming an upside down u shape with my body supporting her light weight on top of me. She wrenched my slacks off, sending my shoes flying to opposite corners of the room with the force of her tug. She looked truly amazing, black hair splaying everywhere as she roamed her face over my chest, kissing and biting the exposed flesh she found there. As she moved over me I removed her trousers as well, displaying for the first time her panties, which matched the dulcet cream of the bra she had just discarded. They were tight to her body, fitting her hips perfectly. I took a few seconds to enjoy Virginie's touch, so soft, yet so erotic. I idly ran my fingers along the outline of her underwear, before grasping her ass lightly, trying to visualise its perfect curves that were obscured from my sight. I forced her panties down her smooth legs, I was desperate to get inside her. The intense passion was an intangible presence in the room. We were now both naked, and for two strangers we seemed to be perfectly in harmony with each other as Virginie shifted over my body on the floor. For the first time Virginie ran her hands over my rock hard erection, and I shifted at the touch. Not because it was unwelcome, but the anticipation was killing me. I couldn't wait any longer. Virginie didn't resist as I guided her in a tandem roll with me. I was now on top of her, and I placed my hands either side of her to support my weight. She had her eyes closed, and was waiting for me, I could sense it. I felt her part her legs beneath me, and the expectation had reached its peak. I slid into her, enjoying every sensation. Her pussy wasn't tight, but it felt wonderfully warm around me and I pushed myself in further, finally having all of my dick inside her. I began to set a fast pace, running myself in and out as fast as I could. Virginie raised her hips as I pulled out each time, and then slammed them back down again as I forced into her, her ass being jolted by hitting the floor each time. Several times she hit the floor so hard the compression was passed through into my cock, serving only to stimulate me further. Virginie just lay back and took everything I gave to her. Her arms were spread out on the carpet, and her body writhed beneath me, urging me to force herself inside her even further. If anything, her lack of participation infuriated me, and I thrust into her as hard and fast as I could, and for what seemed like forever I was oblivious to her, totally focused on my needs. I came back with a snap as I realised Virginie was on the verge of cumming. A thin layer of sweat was on her face, no doubt identical to me. Her breasts were heaving, and immeaditaly I moved my hands to them, squeezing them roughly, inadvertently pushing her on even more. Her tits felt amazing. So firm, yet so supple. I pushed them together as hard as I could, and she gave a small scream, loving the rough treatment. Instantly a word ran through my mind. "Bitch." I shouted. She had no right to orgasm, my pleasure came first this time. Either she didn't hear me in her mental state, or just ignored me, but her moaning intensified, and her movements became frenetic. Her moans gradually turned into short, breathless screams. This wasn't the act of love, just hard, rough sex. And she loved it. I ignored her, and concentrated on myself, pushing my dick into her harder and faster than before. My cum began to build, and I tried to delay the moment, making that most intense moment of pleasure last as long as it could. It was over in an instant. I blasted my cum deep inside her cunt, forcefully lining with everything I had. The feeling of being totally filled pushed Virginie over the edge, and I was dimly aware of her orgasm as I came down from my own high. Her head was thrown backwards as far as she could, trying to angle me deeper into her. I was still fairly hard, despite cumming. I leaned down to lick over her right breast, tasting the sweat on it, enjoying the limit I had taken her too. She gave one final scream, and then her body exploded into a rapture, furiously burrowing around beneath me, trying to force herself onto my dick one last time. Finally she fell still, and I looked to see her black hair plastered over her forehead, and flowing everywhere around her, the dark colour in contrast to the red of the carpet. * * * * * My senses gradually returned, and I lay on the rug with Virginie. I stared straight up at the ceiling, hearing my deep breathing provided an echo to hers. I knew she was next to me, but I just wanted to take a moment before speaking. My anger was over, the sexual games had dispersed it. "That was good. Very good." In its overly pleasured state my brain seemed devoid of superlatives. The next sentence though, gave me all the wake up calls I needed. "A pity it was only a one off." She said, as casually as if she was describing the weather. European Travels Ch. 02 I still focused on the ceiling, deliberately making my body seem distant from her. At first the words shocked me, then I realised that they were fairly logical, and at least Virginie had the courage to say them. Nevertheless, I make a token attempt to salvage something, even against my own wishes. It just seemed polite, somehow. "But there could be…" I said. Virginie cut me off even before I could think of my next words. "No Jon. We don't know each other, and all this came about because we are two people looking for comfort. To ease the loneliness." She continued. "We may never meet again." I finally turned to face her, and allowed a little disappointed edge to find its way into my tone. "I understand. This was," I paused, "convenient for both of us." The word sounded wrong as it came from me, but it was all that described this situation. A convenience fuck. An ugly term if I ever heard one. I took some minor pleasure from knowing that the worlds top actresses got the urge as well. I got the feeling that there was no more to be said on the topic. We both understood the rules of the game, we were both adults and we saw this in black and white. Virginie leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead, then drew back and whispered. "You're a nice guy, Jon Carter. Take care of yourself." With that she rose quickly, and made to pick up her clothes, looking first to see where they lay. As she moved into the bathroom I allowed myself one more look at her naked body, admiring her great ass. As soon as the door was shut I jumped up and pulled on my boxers and shirt. I had only managed the bottom three buttons when the bathroom door reopened and Virginie walked towards me. "Au revoir." She simply said, and made towards the door, glancing back at me. I couldn't really think of anything to say, so I just nodded feebly in an attempted signal of decorum. The door closed quietly, and for a few seconds I just stood there, reflecting on the irony that I had just made love to a woman who I was never likely to see again. To say the least, it was not normally my style, and certainly not something I wanted to make a habit of, even if it was celebrities propositioning me. I shook my head, and made my way towards the minibar, picking up my trousers from the floor on the way. Virginie had left just before 21:00, and after a quick drink, I tried to get my head down for the night. I had to catch an early flight in the morning, and it was imperative that I be sharp and focused for the afternoon meeting. However hard I tried though, I couldn't doze off. There were just two many unanswered questions running through my mind, Government corruption not being the least of those problems. The others, well, Avril Lavigne. I thought I was unlikely to hear from her again, which was a pity since I had taken a real liking to her. Onwards and upwards though, I suppose. Virginie though, was puzzling me. When we parted, our relations were perfectly clear. Meet, greet and fuck. Then goodbye. The more I thought about it though, the more I was sure that the river meeting was not the coincidence she made it out to be. Then there was her appearance at the lecture. Why not tell me that she would be there? I hadn't mentioned it, so she must have known beforehand. I was sure the whole thing was premeditated, but I just couldn't see the why or the how. More questions thrown on an ever growing pile. My life was becoming far stranger than usual. Only one certainty remained. I was going to get no answers tonight. Finally I drifted off, the sounds of the Paris traffic a constant disturbance in the background. * * * * * I was awake and vacating the room by 7:30, and stopped briefly for breakfast. I collected my luggage, and went to the front desk to sign out. The clerk greeted me. "Bonjour Monsieur Carter. Ca va bien? She asked. The same politeness faced everyone. "Oui, ca va bien merci. Peux j'avoir la facture, s'il vous plait? I responded. I gave a cursory glance at the slip of paper she handed me, blowing out my breath slightly when I saw the final total. I used the American Express card to pay the bill, and turned to collect my luggage. The clerk hailed me again. "Monsieur Carter, il y a un message pour vous." She handed me the envelope, which I stuffed in my pocket. I went outside and found a taxi, and loaded my bag into the boot, instructing the driver that Charles de Gaulle airport was our destination. Upon arrival I checked it for the flight. I sat down in the departures lounge, and remembered the envelope. I withdrew it from my coat and opened it. On a typed sheet of paper was a crude message. 'BEEN CHATTING WITH MI6 HAVE YOU? I SEE YOU DIDN'T LISTEN TO US. LETS TRY AGAIN. IF YOU CARRY ON WITH THIS INVESTIGATION YOU WILL LOOSE YOUR CAREER. IF YOU IGNORE US AGAIN, NEXT TIME THE WARNING WILL BE MORE PERSONAL' "Bollocks." The word slipped from my mouth instantly, drawing disgusted glances from the other occupants of the lounge. I screwed the letter up in fury. They knew of recent events. How could my meeting with Paul be known to anyone but us? I set my jaw, resolving to get to the bottom of this. I felt the first stirrings of fear inside me, I could guess what type of physical persuasion they had in mind, and it usually involved baseball bats or the like. I heard a call in the background. "Flight Air France 56, Paris to Zaragoza. Boarding at gate 10." I gathered my things, and walked towards the gate. Maybe I would find more answers in sunnier climbs, as I continued into Spain. A short flight and a train journey would bring me to Bilbao. * * * * * The two gentlemen rose as one from the table. The taller, older man replaced his set of headphones in the rack, while the younger of the two closed the transmission. The smile that passed between them indicated the success of the operation. The bug was in place, and Jon Carter had become a marked man. They assumed he had received the message that they left at the front desk. Together they left the room, trying to calculate the time the flight would arrive in Spain. As soon as the flight was over, they would have to be back on the airwaves. The younger man tossed his coffee cup into a nearby waste bin, and exited the building into the morning sunshine. The time was 08:58. * * * * * Part III – "A Life Uncommon?" coming soon Ó Peter Von Grunigan April 2003 European Travels Ch. 03 Usual Words. This story is a work of fiction; no inference with real people or events is intended. You must be 18 to read this story. If you’re not, just read it anyway. You might learn something. This continues my first series, so watch this space over the coming months for the next instalments. Feedback and constructive criticism would be nice. It offers a huge amount of encouragement, as well as providing useful analysis. I can’t get better at this unless you guys give me some input. The address is in the link below. Just a quick recap of Chapter Two : ‘Parisian Nights’ Jon Carter was in Paris for diplomatic meetings, and encountered Virginie Ledoyen while giving a seminar at the Universite. After Virginie seduced him after the lecture, she joined him again in his hotel room later. In the interval, Carter was met by a MI6 agent who filled him in on more of the Government corruption. Anyhow. Enough of me, read on into the action. ****************** European Travels Chapter Three : A Life Uncommon I don’t know if it is something in the air, but every time I enter Spain, I feel invigorated. The weather and the culture couldn’t be more different from London. And, on this particular occasion in Bilbao, the country was exactly as I would like it to be. I sat on the balcony of my hotel room, looking out over the city. The quiet hubbub of the morning had all but died as the Spaniards settled down for lunch. That in itself was part of the reason I liked coming here. The pace of life was so relaxed it meant I never had to do much work. Having arrived on Monday lunchtime, I had been involved in informal discussions for the past few days, and now I had today and tomorrow off, before returning home Friday morning. My mobile rang. I took my feet off the railings and tried to get to my jacket, lying on a nearby chair. Pulling the phone from the inside pocket I accepted the call. “Hello. Jon Carter.” I said. “Jon. This is the Press Advisor.” I knew straight away that this wasn’t a friendly call. His clipped tone wasn’t a nice indication. “The Prime Minister wants to see you at Number 10, 9.30 Monday morning.” He continued. I was slightly worried by this point. A personal meeting with the PM is never good news, not unless you’ve requested it. I tentatively enquired. “May I ask what it concerns?” “Certain stories that have been reported in the last week. The Minister feels that your actions with Miss Lavigne have bought the party into disrepute.” His smooth, oily voice really got to me. I was inwardly fuming, but refrained from showing my anger. I settled for a simple confirmation. “Thank you for the message. I will meet with him on Monday.” I hope I kept my voice dignified. Harry Mortimer didn’t ever bother to respond, instead just hanging up the call. I gripped the mobile in my hand, turning the development over in my mind. It was obvious that I had been seen leaving the party with Avril, and maybe even entering her room at the hotel, but I couldn’t see why the PM was making a big deal over it. Maybe he should investigate the financial affairs of some of his close friends before choosing to fight me. It had to be a muscle flexing exercise. We had never been close friends, and it was really only public demand that got me a cabinet job. Surely this was a measure designed to keep me in my place. I shook my head, trying to quantify the act of throwing the feelings out of my mind. I resolved to continue with my plans for the day. After enjoying a lie in and a nice breakfast I was heading towards the Guggenheim Museum. I had never been a great fan of the arts, but I really thought I should experience what the place had to offer while I was in the city. Call it cultural enlightenment. Throwing my jacket on the bed I stuffed my phone and wallet into my trousers. Even at this time of year, Bilbao was a pleasant 20oC, although the breeze provided a light wind chill. Not something a Londoner was used too, but I’d live with it. ****************** I left the hotel, and walked along the narrow streets. I couldn’t help but notice the area was deserted. I glanced at my watch and saw why. It was coming towards the height of the afternoon, during which the Spanish decide they need it little rest. They even have a word for it, a siesta. We have a word for it too. Lazy. I continued up the steps that led to the great building, pausing to sit at a bench and retie my shoelace. There was a woman sitting next to me, sketching on a large canvas. The reproduction of the multi strobed building was amazing, and I complimented her. “Esto es muy bueno.” My broken Spanish would have to suffice. Her reply was somewhat ironic, “Oh, erm. I don’t speak Spanish, I’m sorry.” Accompanied by a helpless gesture with her free hand as the other supported the canvas. I replied in my native tongue. “That’s OK, English works for me too.” She smiled, so I continued. “Your accent.” I stopped to give a questioning look. “Australian?” She turned towards me and took off her sunglasses. “Yes. Sydney.” In that instant I recognised her. She had been at the BRIT Awards only last week. I spoke. “Natalie Imbruglia,” in a shocked voice. “Jon Carter.” She answered in kind “You recognise me?” I asked “There was a picture of you leaving the party with Avril Lavigne in the papers last Friday. It was kind of hard to miss.” She avoided my glance. “Oh.” Well, that confirmed how my antics were known about. Just my luck to be caught by the press. I swiftly changed the subject. “What brings you to Bilbao?” “An inspiration trip. I’m working on a new album and coming to somewhere I love always makes writing easier.” She explained. “So you’re painting because?” a slight humorous edge in my voice. “Oh, I’m on lunch break.” Her reply also took a droll tone. She smiled, and I laughed. An idea came to me. “Look, since you’re on lunch break, would you care to accompany me inside?” I gestured towards the museum. “Yes. Cool. I’d like that.” She replied in her distinctive tones. Natalie gathered her things and I slowly walked up the front steps, waiting for her to catch up with me. It suddenly came to me what I had read her name in connection with recently. “You’re starring in Johnny English aren’t you?” I asked. “Yeah. It’s out back home at the moment. Oh, England that is, not Australia.” She corrected herself hurriedly. I smiled. “You consider yourself a Pom now? She laughed. “No, not with this accent anyway. But it’s been home to me for a while now. I live in London, on the Embankment. Near the MI5 headquarters.” “Yes, I know where you mean. I live in Westminster myself, so not too far away.” I said. I shook my head. “This is a really odd coincidence. We live not too far apart, and then we meet in Bilbao.” “Chalk it up to fate.” Natalie said with a smile. I opened one of the doors, allowing Natalie to enter first, who did so with a quiet thank you for my politeness. Once inside, Natalie continued. “Have you seen the film?” she asked, the note of curiosity evident in her voice. The famous MP tact was about to appear. I had seen the movie, and I hadn’t liked it really. I thought it best though, to take the safe option. “No. I’ve got a pirate DVD copy at home though, I’ll get round to watching it soon.” Whilst talking I had purchased the tickets, and led Natalie into the first exhibition hall. ****************** We emerged into a glorious late afternoon sunshine, and turned towards the Nervion River. I leaned onto the railing as I watched the water meander its way through the city. For a brief second I allowed my thoughts to drift to work, but Natalie soon distracted me. “That was cool. I enjoyed that.” She said. I knew Natalie’s statement was genuine. She seemed to emit a radiance that was pure enthusiasm and lust for life. “Are you into art, Natalie?” I curiously asked. “It’s Nat, by the way. And I do like the visual arts, painting mainly, although sculpture is very expressive. Obviously I like the performing ones as well. Yourself?” “No, not really. I mean, I like some of the top stuff, Van Gogh, Monet and that sort of artist, but I know very little about it. The modern stuff just switches me off totally, Tracy Emin and all that.” “I know what you mean. How can an unmade bed be dressed as a masterpiece?” she said. I gave a helpless shrug. “Exactly.” I didn’t want to get into a debate about the Turner Prize, no sense in causing myself undue stress over a minor travesty of life. Changing the subject completely I asked, “Can I walk you to your hotel, or anywhere?” Natalie looked surprised at my offer. I just assumed it was one any decent guy would make. “Just to my hotel if you like. I’ve just got to finish packing before tomorrow, then I’ll relax this evening, maybe try and do some writing.” Natalie gestured the way with her arm, pointing towards Plaza Pio Bardja, so we headed in that direction. I was eager to learn more of her. “Have you written much music while you’ve been here?” “A little. The next album is still in the very early stages, I’m still promoting the last one in some places.” She added. “Ah yes. White Lilies Island. Very nice music, if I may say so.” “You may. Thank you.” Already there was an easy bond between us, a relaxed atmosphere that usually only occurs when you are with someone you have known for ages. For the rest of the way to the hotel we chatted amiably about anything and everything. My job, the delights of Bilbao, the horrors of London. I was sad when the journey was over. I knew I didn’t want it to be so I made a split second decision, something for me that was out of character. I had taken a real liking to Natalie, and I was about to do something I hadn’t done in a long time. Ask a girl out whom I really liked. “Erm, Nat. Do you fancy going somewhere for dinner tonight?” I couldn’t believe I had stated it so simply. I was usually a stuttering wreck when it cam to asking women out. Something about Nat reassured me though; I knew I would get a straight answer. The diminutive singer paused for a moment, and looked into the distance. When she returned her gaze she had a nice smile on her face. “Yes. If you answer two questions though.” She didn’t bother waiting for me to say yes. “Is this a date, and, are you involved with Avril Lavigne? Cause if you are it won’t be a date.” I tried to show I was serious, as she obviously was. “I guess I’d like it to be a date. And no, I’m not seeing Avril. We met once, and its over.” She obviously believed me. She had been straight with me; I would be straight with her. “Good. Well then, I don’t know if you can suggest anywhere?” an enquiring look on her face. In any other circumstance, “d’oh” would have been the perfect comment. I had no clue where the good restaurants in Bilbao were. I used my only suggestion. “My hotel has a decent restaurant. Maybe we could meet there?” “Sure. Which hotel?” “The… Hotel Lopez de Haro. About 8 o’clock?” I couldn’t remember the name for a moment. “Fine.” She turned away from me, and then looked back with a pause. “I shall see you tonight.” were her final words. We both turned in different directions. I headed along the Ibanez de Bilbao, a huge grin on my face. I had relearned another lesson. If you don’t ask, you don’t receive. ****************** I was still on cloud nine when I reached the hotel. It had been a while since I had experienced the warm feeling inside when a woman accepts an offer of a date. On the journey back I had made a decision. I was going to contact the Deputy Prime Minister and see what he knew of this meeting on Monday. Over the day it had begun to worry me more and more, since with Northern Ireland, Iraq and the Fire strike on his mind, surely my night with Avril was small fry to the PM. I got to my door, and pulled out my wallet, extracting the key card. It slipped from my grasp as I tried to replace the worn leather object in my pocket. Bending down, I retrieved it, noting the pair of nice shoes a little further along the corridor. I pulled myself upwards, making eye contact with the owner of the moccasins. For just a fraction of a second my face narrowed as I searched my mind. Where had I seen him before? The man didn’t wait to hang around and answer the question. Turning on his heel, he ran. I immediately cursed out loud, partly due to the fact that the stairway was nearer him than me; mostly because I had recognised him. The same man who had been outside my hotel room in Paris before I met with Deighton. I made a split second decision to follow, despite the fact I had no idea what it was going to achieve. As far as I was concerned though, his presence was no coincidence. I wasn’t far behind him as I hit the stairs, making it to the foyer in less than half a minute. As we exited the hotel, I again cursed my luck. The streets were still empty. It would have been harder for him to get away if the pavements had been jammed with people. It was a quick right then left out of the hotel, moving away from the river part of the city. By now we had both hit top gear, and even though I was no slouch he was still going away from me, but I still had line of sight on him. I must have looked a right pratt, running as fast as I could while supporting my phone with one hand. I almost cursed again that I’d had the bad luck to wear slacks with loose pockets. Fortunately the Juan de Ajuriaguerra was a long, straight road, and by now I had eased into stride. The distance between us was starting to close, and the thrill of the chase meant the adrenaline was pumping. Again I surged on, taking heart from his obvious tiring. We had been going down the road for almost a minute now, and his more and more frequent looks behind told me he was getting scared. He made an urgent left, and I attempted to follow. Unfortunately my formal footwear was not designed for running, and I slipped and stumbled on for a few metres. By the time I looked up again the gap was widening. I pushed myself on again, panting furiously. Already my legs were starting to tire. I guess I wasn’t in as good a shape as I thought. The stranger crossed the road, and not bothering to look for traffic I followed suit. He disappeared round the next corner just before I got to it. The instant I turned the corner I felt my muscles burn, and I couldn’t move. Within another two seconds I was lying on the ground, unable to mobilise myself for another chase. Managing to twist my head, I saw the man jumping into the driver’s seat of a nearby car. More significantly, I noted the object in his right hand. I had been given the good news with a taser as I came round the corner, which explained why I was only just able to stand upright again. The car roared away, and was out of my vision in a few seconds flat as it turned the corner. Immediately I dropped my hands to my kneecaps, supporting the tiredness in my body. I was pissed at two things. One, I hadn’t noticed anything about the car, and two, that I’d had a chance to catch someone who was obviously involved in this, and not capitalised on it. It did seem to offer some sort of explanation about how my meeting with Deighton was leaked, but it didn’t bring me any close to finding out who the man was. I trudged wearily back towards the hotel, questioning the long distance we had covered in what seemed like a few minutes. Jamming my hands into my trouser pockets, my fingers closed around a familiar object. Removing the cell phone I quickly selected the number and held it to my ear. The answer was near instantaneous. “Hello, Government Switchboard.” The secretary’s voice was neat and efficient. “Deputy Prime Minister please. Jon Carter of the Culture Department speaking.” I asked. “One moment Sir. You designator?” The routine confirmation was asked for. “Echo, Foxtrot, zero, eight, four.” I took care to keep my voice hushed. There was no reply, just a slight click as I was patched through to whatever line he was on. The designator codes are changed every few weeks, standard security practise. The Satcom would have also pinpointed my location as Bilbao, and the phone number should have been shown as mine, so the operator would have been reasonably sure that it was a legitimate call. “Hello Jon!” I had to hold the phone away from my ear slightly. Either he had a hearing problem, or just enjoyed shouting at people. “Good Afternoon Sir. I wonder if you could help me. I’ve been summoned to meet the PM on Monday morning, do you know anything about it?” I asked. There was a slight pause. “Yes. I requested the meeting.” My mouth was left ajar at that statement. “Why?” I spluttered out. “You’ll be briefed fully then. All I can say is that there have been developments, and your posting will be changed to accommodate them. It has been decided that you’ll be promoted at the next reshuffle, but until then you are going to have some kind of ambassadorial role.” He then added, “With facility to continue on our current business.” “Are you aware of my meeting with a mutual friend in Paris?” I asked. “Of course. Are you following up on anything?” he answered a question with a question. “I’ve got some ideas, yes. I’ll get back to you as soon as I know anything concrete.” I tried to make my tone of voice indicate that the conversation was over. “Fine. I’ll see you on Monday.” He closed. “Goodbye Sir.” I finished. The phone call was ended, leaving me reeling. I was well pleased to get a job promotion, but I was curious as to what ‘New Developments’ meant. The Press Secretary had mentioned that it was about my behaviour with Avril. Something was afoot. No doubt, something very strange. ****************** Berlin, Germany. The same two men who had appeared so pleased after the success of the Paris operation were now spitting blood at their desk. The younger man, Franz, placed his hands behind his head, and rose to pace around the room. They had only just heard parts of the phone conversation as the power source of the bug was dying. Josef wearily placed his headphones on the table, and then spoke. For a native German, his English was perfect. “So he’s still investigating?” he asked. “Ja. It looks like he is not alone, either. Too bad we won’t be able to tap his phone conversations any more. Lost most of that call from London earlier as well. I knew that power source was not long enough.” His disgust was obvious. Josef rubbed his stubble covered chin. “Do we send in a team?” “Lets hold…” The landline telephone ringing interrupted Franz. He grabbed it from the cradle, and held it to his ear for a brief duration. He did not speak until he had ended the call. “That was Carlos. He said that Carter recognised him before he could enter the hotel room, and that he only just escaped from him during a chase through the city. He also had to leave the signal booster in the corridor.” He dropped his eyes. As he expected, Josef was furious. “So we have no bugs, Carter is onto one of us and he is not giving up.” He nodded quickly. “We send in a team. Call Merceron and arrange!” He stormed out, as Franz again reached for the telephone. ****************** ****************** “Are you sure you can afford meals like this?” Natalie Imbruglia asked me, only half joking. I gave a sheepish smile, and then explained. “In the Government, people of my rank are known as Level 7 Civil Servants. What that means is,” I paused, heightening the delivery of my final line. “I can authorise my own expenses.” She laughed. “You lucky bastard! So anything you want is paid for?” European Travels Ch. 03 Coming from anyone else, calling me a bastard would have earned an angry reprove. With the insult coming from Natalie though, I knew it was harmless. “Within reason, yes. Honestly, this American Express card is amazing. This paella isn’t bad either.” I gestured to it with my fork. Natalie gave a shameful expression. “At least one of us thinks so.” She half smiled. It took me a few seconds to cotton on to what she meant. “Oh. Well, don’t blame me.” I said tentatively. “Why not? You suggested the bloody restaurant.” She chastised me. Not even a politician could argue his way out of that one. I settled for trying to mollify her. “OK. Give me a second to finish this would you? And then we can go straight to dessert.” Natalie gave what I interpreted as a triumphant smile. I tried to remain impassive. I would let her have her moment of glory. After all, she had already treated me once this evening by wearing that great dress. I had taken the option of waiting for Natalie outside the hotel. A bit stupid, you might think, considering I was staying inside it, but I just thought it would be nice to walk in together. I could have waited in the foyer, but the air conditioning seemed to be acting up, so it was stiflingly hot in there. And, since I hadn’t given her my room number, I ended up waiting on the pavement outside. She had drawn up in a taxi, and when she stepped out, boy did I have trouble keeping my jaw closed. I had expected some kind of t shirt and trousers ensemble, but she was clad in a figure hugging red dress, which although it was ankle length revealed a generous amount of her fantastic legs via a revealing side split. Her hair was swept into a fashionably messy French twist and looking at her picture of beauty and sexiness, I suddenly felt mildly ashamed of my no effort shirt and trousers combination. Still, I supposed it was one of the advantages of being a man, never having to dress up for an occasion. I had paid the driver, and presumptuously put an arm around her as I escorted her up the front steps, and into the dining room. She didn’t seem to mind. The wrap she had around her shoulders felt like expensive silk, and the dress was obviously tailor made for her. In a million years I would never have expected something like this from Natalie Imbruglia, but first impressions will continue to be deceptive for all of time. Something I really should have learnt from Avril Lavigne. When we had sat down to eat I had suggested a wine, and the house paella. I had successfully fooled her into thinking I was a cultured wine buff, but a small visit to the Kitchens earlier in the day had found me an English speaking chef who advised me on the finer points of the house bottles, and etiquette when drinking them. All in all, I was highly satisfied with how the evening was going. Until I discovered that the paella hadn’t exactly gained Natalie’s ringing endorsement. I should have noticed it really. The chef had personally bought the dish to our table. For those of you not familiar with Spanish culinary habits, basically they bring the paella to the table in a big dish, which you then take your meal from as and when you desire it. A glance at the said dish showed that only a decent, man sized serving was missing from it. Mumbling something about not wanting to upset the chef, I took another generous amount onto my plate and began to work my way thought it. Natalie, meanwhile, was transferring her food ever so slowly back from whence it came. With her dessert spoon, of all things. I couldn’t help but laugh, not advisable with one’s mouth full of food. Nat shot me a dirty look, begging me not to draw attention to her subtle activities. Finally I thought that we (should that be I?) had eaten a suitable amount, and I motioned for the waiter to clear the table and bring a dessert menu. Perhaps inadvisably, he handed it straight to Natalie, who fair squealed in excitement as she found something to her agreement. I couldn’t resist a sarcastic comment. “What, still hungry?” I asked. Grinning smugly from my question, I went to raise my wine glass to my lips. Nat gave me a look, eyes upturned towards me, but her face still studying the menu. “Keep it up Jon. And then you won’t get any tonight.” She said casually. I almost projectilied the mouthful of wine straight down the front of her dress. Fortunately I managed to swallow most of it, quickly mopping up the few drops that dribbled down my chin. I didn’t quite know how to respond, so I settled for mouth open silence. Natalie seemed totally unperturbed by my schoolboy reaction. She pretended to be deeply engrossed in the menu, and then spoke. “In Australia, all teenage girls are taught that if you pull a mans dick, he’ll whistle to your tune.” She paused. “Nice to see English guys are the same.” “Don’t they have some sort of first date rule in Australia?” I asked, I was annoyed at my mind betraying me like that. At 24, I should be over that type of reaction by now. “No. You like a guy, you sleep with him. Simple. Especially if he’s some easy, dimwit of a politician.” She grinned. Her Australian twang somehow gave the sentence some kind of dignity. “oh, sod off.” I said, pretending to be offended. A hard act to pull off when Natalie Imbruglia has just all but told you she’ll have sex with you. She was right though. I was basically in her pocket. I fidgeted all the way through the seasonal fruit salad she had ordered us both for dessert. Having to put up with smug grins every few minutes was bad enough. ‘Wait till I get that dress off you’ was about the only thought that kept me going. I finished my plate in about three minutes flat, and was left twiddling my thumbs while Natalie laboured over her peaches and grapes, trying to fool me into thinking she was devouring every mouthful as if it was her last. Finally the fork and spoon were laid to rest along the side of the plate, and I snapped my fingers rudely for the waiter. I had only one thing in mind, but I forced it out temporarily. “Please put this on the tab for room 65” I said. “Miss Imbruglia, this way please.” I hadn’t given a toss if the waiter understood English or not. Natalie was far more important. As the waiter placed Natalie’s shawl over her shoulders I led the way towards the exit. Once there, I waited for her, and then gently took her elbow, nudging her towards the stairs. But, Natalie’s mind games weren’t over yet. “Jon, I thought we were going to have coffee and liqueur chocolates in the lounge first?” she deadpanned to me. I stopped dead, and turned to face her. This time, though, even Natalie’s self control couldn’t help her, and her face twisted into a massive smile. She then conceded. “OK. You win. Don’t you have a room here somewhere?” she asked. I changed my mind, and went over to the lift, jamming the call button like there was no tomorrow. I was still reeling from her invitation of further sustenance. “You’re such a, a, a…” Even my speech had deserted me. I couldn’t think of a word. Fortunately, Nat could. “Bitch?” The helpful, sweet smile that accompanied the word did raise a reciprocating one from me. “Yes.” Was all I responded. “Well.” She paused, and leaned into my ear, then continued in a whisper. “This bitch is going to fuck you into next week.” Drawing back, she gave a slight laugh, as if to convince the other occupants of the lobby that she had just made a clever joke. Meanwhile, my small smile had morphed into a huge, cheesy grin. The lift arrived, and we both stepped into it. ****************** As the lift made its slow ascension to the third floor, we stood side by side, not looking at each other. My excuse was that I was trying to collect my thoughts. Natalie didn’t seem to have one. “I thought you’d be all over me by now,” she said. “I didn’t wear this dress for nothing you know.” “Well, I’m not that bothered really. I mean, if you want to do something, fine, but…” I tailed off with a shrug. Giving Nat a sideways glance, we both broke into laughter at my absolute bullshit. The lift reached its destination, and I allowed her to exit first, before taking the lead as I tried to locate my room. The door swung shut, but I hardly noticed as I had pulled Nat into my arms, and was kissing her deeply. Her touch has light, cultured as she probed into my mouth, and I wrapped my arms around her. I broke the kiss and she rested herself against me. Her petite frame meant that he head was resting against my shoulder, so I buried my face in her hair, inhaling the fresh scent of her brown locks. The loose ends tickled my nose, and in a funny way provided me with a sudden flash of inspiration. I pulled away from Nat, almost causing her to stumble. She kicked her heels off, and absently rubbed her toes along the opposite ankle, soothing the pain caused by the offending shoes. I pulled on her arm, and she followed my stride. I stopped for a moment, fiddling with the clasp on the door. The night temperature was only marginally different from the air inside the room. Forgetting Natalie, I looked out from the balcony for a moment. The skyline was not dissimilar to my hometown, with lights twinkling on the river, and tall buildings looming far in the distance. Nat broke my thoughts. “What are we doing out here?” she asked, her tone of voice somewhat impatient. Try as I may, I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “Ever had sex on a balcony?” I asked. Natalie immediately laughed, and then seemed to give an endorsement to the idea. “Hmmmm, your not as vanilla as you look, are you?” I rolled my eyes, then in a sudden movement, went towards her and lifted her up. She weighed next to nothing. Nat gave a small scream from the shock, and then laughed, plainly enjoying this. Me, well, I was making it up as I went along. Still holding her, I asked “Do you like the stars?” The night was now dark enough to make them all visible. “A little,” Nat answered cautiously. “Good!” I shouted. I tried to run towards the furniture set. Placing Natalie on the table, I climbed on top of her. We both lay full stretch along the wooden structure. “Because.” I stopped to give her a light kiss. “You’re going to be looking at them for a while tonight. I kissed her again, somewhat obstructed by her laugh. I didn’t care; I just resolved to spout out as many cheesy lines as I could. They seemed to be working, because Natalie had got all but one of the buttons on my white shirt undone. I let her finish the job, before wriggling out of it. She was left holding it in her right hand. There was quick whirl of motion, and it took me a second to realise what she had done. “Have you just thrown my shirt over the balcony?” I cried out, not quite believing it. Natalie just nodded and lay there laughing. “Oh bloody hell,” I whined. Nat’s laughter stopped, and she took on a new expression. The seductive, sexual power of a woman was present in her at that moment. “Are you going to fuck me for being such a naughty girl?” she teased. As if I needed prompting. “Damn right I am!” was all I managed before ducking my head, forcing her into a hard, aggressive kiss. Natalie shifted underneath me, trying to wrap her legs around me. I could feel the bare flesh of her legs against my naked back. I could imagine her pulling me inside her like this, and my dick was already hardening at the thought of her wet pussy waiting for me. I got harder still as I tried to pull her dress off, not quite managing the task. The spaghetti straps were no problem, but I couldn’t quite push it over her front because it was so tight. There was no doubt that my shirt desired revenge, so I simply grabbed a handful of material in each hand and pulled. There was a sharp ripping noise, and then Natalie’s tits were exposed to the open air. They were slightly larger than I had expected them to be, despite staring at them for most of the evening. The pure colour matched the rest of her pale skin, and her small nipples were obviously hard from her arousal. I lightly ran my thumb over their point, letting her sensitive flesh rub against the scar on my thumb. Nat tried to arch her back and push herself towards my touch. I eagerly moved my head down, desperate to savour the taste of her great breasts. I greedily closed my mouth over a nipple, capturing the hard nub between my front teeth, biting and ripping it away from her body. Nat gave an involuntary gasp at the unexpected motion, before putting both hands around my head, pulling my down and making sure I couldn’t escape. I forced her breast in the other direction, as she scratched her hands through my short hair. Our movements became more frenzied, bodies shifting all over the small table. I loved it, being fairly inexperienced sexually I wasn’t used to doing it outdoors, never mind with a goddess like Natalie. From my inexperience came impatience, and I tried to force the rest of her dress down, with Nat helpfully kicking her legs to shake the offending garment free. I kissed her again, moving my hands to get a feel of her shapely ass. Just from running my hands over the flesh, I felt she wasn’t wearing any panties, and I suddenly knew that she had really come ‘dressed to fuck’ this evening. Obviously she was as eager as I was. I quickly unbuckled my belt and sorted out the top of my trousers, but Nat’s hands stopped me. “No. Let me.” She said. “You don’t do anything unless I say so.” The order was accompanied by a wicked smile, so I knew Natalie was just having fun with me. I was more than willing to play along though. Smiling, I moved my hands to rest on her shoulders, she stared into my eyes as her hands pushed my trousers and boxers down. While I kicked them away, Nat was stroking and pulling at my cock, encouraging it to reach full hardness. I lost myself in the moment, and instantly started to maul her tits again, pushing the small mounds together. Despite loving it, she was keen to remind me who was boss, and squeezed my dick gently, punishing me for my impatience. I looked down at her hands, and got my first glance of her pussy, obviously moist in expectation. I was surprised again to see that Nat was shaved bare downstairs. She had seen what I was looking at. “You like?” she asked. “mmm hummm.” I replied. “You want to find out what it feels like?” Talk about a stupid question. My cock was as hard as could be. I wasn’t a large man, but I had satisfied most women. I just eased the tip of my dick inside her, feeling the tightness that awaited me. I pulled out again and waited, feeling her wetness on my head. The cool breeze tickled my feet, adding one more stimulant to my body. I took a few seconds before entering Nat properly, just savouring the moment, the thrill of anticipation. Her eyes were closed, and I took the chance to let the smile I’d been holding back cross my face. I loved girls like Nat, ones who seemed to be all demure and straight on the outside, but turned into little vixens if you ever got them alone. Where taste in women was concerned, that was my particular kink. I don’t know what happened to her giving the orders, because I was in control here. With the quickest movement I could manage, I forced inside her, right to the back wall of her pussy. I nearly blew my load instantly. It was the tightest, wettest cunt I had ever known, hugging my dick in a vice like grip. It was the best sexual feeling I had ever experienced. Nat wrapped her legs around my back, clamping onto my dick even more. I wondered if I could even move it, she was that tight. With every bit of strength focused, I pulled out of her, only to be sucked back in again instantly. Natalie rubbed her legs around me, causing her pussy to move around my dick again. Another massive effort made me thrust again into Nat, and I started to build some momentum, moving smoothly in and out of her, quickly gathering pace. Already this was the best sexual experience of my life, she just felt amazing. As I adjusted my body, I became aware of Natalie just watching me, no trace of an expression on her face. I’d been mistaken; it was plain she was in control. I didn’t say anything to her, just concentrated on thrusting into her again, living every second of this to the full. As I settled into a more comfortable pace, the singer again decided to force me into overdrive. She began to let words float towards my ears. I’d been hoping that Natalie did have more of a dirty voice inside her, but hearing it did for me completely. I was in dreamland, and certainly her promise of screwing me into next week was becoming a reality. Despite the quick pace I was going at, Natalie was composed enough to keep whispering in my ear, urging me on. “Come on Jon, cum for me, inside me.” She soothed, “You’re all mine now, aren’t you?” she asked. I was too far into this to answer, so Nat tried to persuade me with a short tug on my hair. I hastily nodded, giving her the satisfaction of a victory. Still she kept on. “I wanted you, so I took you. You’re my little toy boy now. If I want you to fuck me, you will fuck me. Won’t you?” There was a calm assurance in her tone. I nodded again. Evidently Nat had decided it should finish now, since she pulled her arms tightly around me and forced me as deep as I could go inside her. That was it; I couldn’t take it any more. I almost flooded her cunt with my cum, wave after wave of it came out of me in thick spurts. Natalie loved it, moaning as she felt it wash inside her. I just stayed still for a few seconds, feeling my dick soften inside her tight pussy. I was almost in awe of Natalie’s sexual power; she had just controlled me as and when she wanted. I pulled out of her, feeling the sticky wetness around my cock beginning to dry. Nat just lay there supporting me, almost purring at the thought of her conquest. Her eyes were shut, and I knew what I had to do. Covertly I shifted my right arm downwards, just as she found her voice again. “You’re good, I’ll… ooohhhh God!!” she wailed. I had taken the opportunity to correct Natalie’s lack of an orgasm, and jammed three finger of my right hand into her tight box. The sudden intrusion had her begging for more. “Go on Jon. Make me cum.” She shouted. It was great to hear the ‘Torn’ singer ordering me around her body, but I did have a slight reservation about how many of her words were being heard by people in the street below. Noise travels in a quiet night air, and I could well do without this finding its way back to the press. Sod it, I thought suddenly. I might only get one chance to hear Natalie Imbruglia shout my name, and by God I was going to enjoy it. This was going to be quick and hard, the same as I’d given to her moments previously. I tensed my fingers to their hardest, and brutally pushed my hand forward, scraping against the walls of her snatch, the friction pushing her ever nearer to the edge. She wanted to cum, and I was going to let her. I shifted my body slightly to get a sight of my hands, glancing at her chest as she breathed heavily, a light sweat of excitement covering her breasts. In the closing darkness of the outside world, I could only just make out the delirious smile on her face, and her electric blue eyes glowing towards me. Nat’s swollen clit was crying out for attention, the one last push required. Using my thumb, I didn’t bother to massage it gently, just dug into it with my thumb. The unorthodox method filled her with the paradox of pain and pleasure, but it was all she needed. Natalie’s orgasm seemed pretty big, and I sensed that she was just about to scream. Acting quickly, I moved my left hand from her thigh to her mouth, trying to cover it with one hand, while still giving her pussy soft strokes with the right. European Travels Ch. 03 It didn’t silence her, so Nat bit down onto my hand. I barely felt any pain, just listened to her moaning sounds coming from her as her body returned to its normal state. My fingers were coated in her juices, and I traced imaginary patterns on the inside of her legs with the wetness until they were dry. Both of us were well satisfied, and I lay my head onto Natalie’s breasts, feeling her hands run through my hair once again. ****************** Eventually we shifted onto one of the chairs, Natalie sitting atop my lap. I leaned my head upon her shoulder, enjoying the night air as it became colder by the minute. Finally I decided to make a move. “Nice as it is out here, we really should go to bed.” I tried to persuade her gently. “Why?” she asked. “Well, so I can fuck you again.” I said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She laughed, and I got the feeling that I was going to be disappointed. “Sorry Jon, I have to leave early in the morning. I’d like to stay though, sleeping I mean.” “Sure.” I replied, settling for second best on this occasion. I paused to prepare my key question. “Where does this leave us?” “Jeez. I don’t know.” Natalie rubbed her eyes in tiredness. I tried to cup her breasts again with my hands, but Nat pulled away from me, dragging me by the hand back inside. Once there, she collapsed onto the double bed. She appeared to be pretty close to just falling asleep there and then, but still managed to shock me. “Come on, I want my boyfriend to hold me.” She stated. “That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it?” I grinned out of her sight. “True though.” She mumbled. “Ah, maybe. I really like you, so yeah, maybe you are my girlfriend.” I mused. “Good. Come to bed then.” She ordered. Telling Natalie that she was my girlfriend wasn’t an entire truth on my part. While she was a great person, and sexy as hell, there was no way I could make a judgement like that based on one day together. For now though, there was no harm in letting her believe whatever she wanted. I hadn’t had a proper girlfriend in years, and this time I wasn’t going to jump into anything recklessly, despite what tonight’s performance showed. I’d had some bad experiences in my early twenties, some that I weren’t too keen to repeat. I said to give me a minute, and then locked the balcony and washed quickly in the bathroom. I wondered why I was being so hard on myself, and then threw caution to the wind. I allowed myself a self congratulatory smile in the mirror. I maybe had a girlfriend for the first time in years. And it felt pretty damn good. I had only known Natalie a day, but she seemed vibrant, carefree and exuded a happiness that I longed to have. I’d just have to share a bit of hers for now. As I turned the lights out, I pulled the bed linen over Natalie’s naked body, before settling in alongside her. I thought, what a weird day. I had met another famous woman who seemed begging to have sex with me, the same woman said she was now my girlfriend and I had a mysterious summons in London to attend. If I was leading the life uncommon then I wanted it to become my normality. And fast. Three cities, three celebrities. Nice work if you can get it. ****************** We awoke early in the morning, and I accompanied Natalie to the airport, for the sole pleasure of spending more time with her. We stood by check in, hugging each other, a small distance between our faces. “I should be back in London soon, I’ll call you, yeah?” I said. We had exchanged numbers and other things before leaving the hotel that morning. It had been a snap decision to go with her to catch her flight, but I felt it was the least I could do to show her back to her hotel and collect her bags. Natalie merely nodded, then placed a small kiss on my lips. I gently released her and waved as she backed away towards the departure lounge. I headed back to hotel, catching a cab from the rank outside the airport. I considered my own position; I had to be back in London, and meet the PM on Monday morning. I was positive I wouldn’t be forced to resign, but the thought of what might transpire didn’t fill me with confidence. ****************** I got back to the hotel at 11:00, and continued straight up to my room. It vaguely registered with me that the keycard light on the door was flashing green even before I inserted my switch. My mind never had a chance to catch up with my body. As I went through the door it slammed shut behind me and I was set upon. Fists crashed into my stomach, and I let out a surprised yell before dropping to the floor as another pair of hands hit my neck and back. I was severely winded, but the survival instinct took over. I curled myself into a ball during a brief lull as several pairs of feet moved around me. I clenched my jaw and waited for it. The waiting was the worst part, even if it did only last two or three seconds. Suddenly boots and fists started filling me in from every possible angle. There was no way I could protect my chest or back. I started crying like a baby, the pain was massive and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. In between my yells, my only thought was desperation for this to end. I tried to look at my attackers, but as soon as I turned my head it was slammed face down into the carpet. There was another pause. Then they started again, well aimed toecap blows to my kidneys and stomach. I had never known pain like this, and I passed out. I couldn’t take it anymore. ****************** Sometime later I came to. I was still lying near the doorway, curled into a foetal position. I felt violently sick, and I could only breath in short gasps. I could hardly think straight. My mind was working in two ways, one half was telling me that I was out of it, and the other half really was out of it. I rolled myself over, leaning against the door. I knew I should check myself over, so I felt down my chest. To my relief nothing felt broken, although I was dimly aware that internal damage was a possibility, particularly with the state my breathing was in. I crawled across the floor on all fours to the bathroom and leaned over the toilet. My stomach exploded into the pan, but it did nothing to alleviate the pain. I was beginning to loose consciousness again; this time I was shit scared. What if I had serious injuries? I wiped my mouth on my shirt, and with every last bit of strength I could muster, crawled back towards the bed and flopped into it. That was my last conscious thought as I was overtaken by darkness again. With it, I entered a dream world where all my pain was gone. ****************** Bilbao was dark when I next awoke. I explored the sensations in my body. The pain in my chest was bearable, but I knew that there must be huge bruising around my ribs. My lower back felt like it was on fire, but again, I could manage it. My breathing had normalised as well, I knew I had had a lucky escape. I twisted my arm to look at my watch. 01:14. I had been out of it for 15 hours. I forced myself out of the bed, testing every sensation in my body as I stood up. I passed the self exam, and began to walk towards the bathroom. I was going to shower and hopefully alleviate some of the pain. That’s when I saw the note on the coffee table, carelessly scrawled with ‘Carter’ on the front. It must have come from my attackers, and before even reading it I could guess about the contents. ‘We gave you fair warning, but you didn’t listen. Are you convinced now? Drop this, or next time it will be your face, and then worse. And don’t think we’ve forgotten about the doll you had in London. If you still ignore us, we will find her. Walk away with your job, while you still have the chance.’ I stuffed the note into my trouser pocket, and headed for the shower, trying to plot my next move. Automatically I tried to pull my shirt over my head, and then gasped as the muscles stretched, causing my whole body to wrack with pain. I would leave for London on my scheduled flight at 9:00, less than 8 hours away. After I showered, I would pack, and then stay awake and alert for the rest of the night. If they came again, at least I would be prepared. Somehow though, I didn’t think they would, but staying up would reassure me. If I needed to reassure myself, I still worried for Avril Lavigne. She was just a teenage girl, and despite the fact I’d only met her once I really didn’t want to see her get the crap kicked out of her, or worse. I added another note to the mental list in my mind. Find out her itinerary. As long as she stayed out of Europe, she should be OK. I couldn’t imagine I was fighting a worldwide organisation. I turned the water on and stepped into the shower. Suddenly I couldn’t wait to get back to England. Natalie was expecting my call, and I knew I could fight my battles better on home turf. I was involved in deep shit now, and there was no way I was going to back down first. ****************** Part IV “Insurrection” coming soon (c) Peter Von Grunigan May 2003 European Travels Ch. 04 Usual Words. This story is a work of fiction; no inference with real people or events is intended. You must be 18 to read this story. This is the start of my first series, so watch this space over the coming months for the next installments. Many thanks to Tim Bisley, whose encouragement and insights helped me a huge amount with this. Cheers pal. Please note that any opinions expressed in this story do not always reflect those of the author. Feedback and constructive criticism would be nice. It offers a huge amount of encouragement, as well as providing useful analysis. I can't get better at this unless you guys give me some input. Anyhow. Enough of me, read on into the action. * * * * * Chapter Four : Insurrection The very second I came off the steps onto the tarmac I felt better. It was nothing to do with my physical condition, since my ribs were still killing me, even after taking some painkillers I had bought in the airport departure lounge. But I was home. I was back on British soil, and I drew it to me like a comfort blanket. On a wet Friday morning at Heathrow I felt strangely optimistic. I had no appointments for the rest of the day, I would be able to see my flat again inside two hours and then I could get my head down. Then maybe try and see a doctor about the precarious state of my body. I shuffled like an old man through arrivals, making my way to the luggage carousel. I preyed that my bags wouldn't be last out. As a waited by the belts I leaned onto the trolley, taking the weight off my feet. I went through the usual motions. Turn my watch back, switch the mobile on, make sure I had some cash to get the train home. Thumbing through my well worn leather wallet, I glanced at the Euros at the back. Would we be using them one day? As proud as I was of our land, maybe European integration was inevitable and right, although surely it would be at the expense of our economic policy. I quickly dismissed my thoughts. Politics took over enough of me without thinking about it on days off. The second thing to catch my eye was Natalie's phone number. I pictured us together on the river in Bilbao in my minds eye. She looked her usual self; incandescent, her hair blowing in the breeze. It was odd to look at me though, because I had a natural subconscious smile on my face, and my body exuded warmth. It showed how quickly life can change if you give it a chance. Spying my bags I jammed my wallet back into my coat pocket, and whipped the items off of the carousel before they passed me by. Dropping them onto my cart I made for the nearest exit to the station. I made it to the platform ahead of time, so I embarked onto the train and found a window seat. I had to prop my feet on my bags to allow other people to sit down, but since it was a short journey I ignored the discomfort. Pain suddenly surged through me as the vibration alert on my phone made contact with my injured ribs. I jolted forwards. Removing it from my inside jacket pocket I ignored the odd looks from the other commuters. Seeing the 'Private Number' icon on the display again, I silently begged it to be a friendly call. "Hello. Jon Carter." I spoke. "How ya doing?" The loud Canadian voice went through me like a hot knife through butter. "Avril. Erm, this is a surprise. Where are you?" I stuttered out. Inwardly I was rejoicing. I had kind of given up on her calling me, but the second I heard her voice the adrenaline started to go through me. It's amazing what the body physically remembers. I'd slammed Natalie out of my mind instantly. "St Martins Lane Hotel," she replied. "Oh right… hang on. That's only a few miles from my place. You're in London?" I asked, even though the answer was obvious. "Yeah. Why else would I be calling you? I'm on tour, and I thought maybe we could hang out." She said simply. "Hang out?" I questioned, allowing the suggestive edge to creep into my voice. "Yes hang out." She paused. "And then maybe a little something else afterwards." It was obvious she had caught my meaning. "So what do you want to do then?" I asked. She gave me the incredulous tone. "Hey, don't ask me shit like that. This is your town, you must know what goes on around here." I found her attitude quite refreshing. She was totally a character, no question. "OK, calm down. I'll think of something. Look, I'm on the way to my house. Have you got transport?" I asked. "I guess so. I could ask one of the roadies to drive me. Or get a cab I sp'ose." "Good. Go over to my place and I'll meet you there in about an hour. If you get there before me then ask the doorman to let you in with a duplicate key. If he refuses tell him to call, he has my number. He should be OK if you explain what is happening though. Oh, and don't go messing about with my place yeah? Have you got a pen and paper?" "Yes. And I promise nothing. I'll trash your place if I feel like it." She deadpanned. "You would as well probably. Anyhow, the address is Flat 6, Grosvenor Square, Westminster. I'll see you there." "Bye." She hung up quickly, leaving me hoping she didn't make good on her threat of destroying my place. As I replaced my phone I ran my hand over my heart, feeling it beat faster than normal. Avril did that to me, I was excited just by hearing her voice. I suddenly realised that I had fallen for her. There was no doubt in my mind. Its amazing that a big decision can be made in a matter of seconds. Although I thought I liked Natalie, she did nothing for me on the level that Avril did. All thoughts of being Nat's boyfriend instantly went from my mind. Now my goal was making Avril think in the same way. Dealing with the fallout from our conversation in Bilbao could wait until I next saw her. I knew I was procrastinating, but the one irrational voice in my mind kept on at me. 'It won't do any harm to keep your options open, will it Jon?" I knew Natalie probably deserved the truth from me, but sometimes even a strong man can turn into a spineless wonder. Today was simply my turn. I had been looking around for anyone watching me at the airports and on the train, but the places were just to crowded. It was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Still, I was seeing Avril soon, and that, was enough to lift even my spirits. * * * * * By the time I arrived at Paddington it was 11:00. I moved quickly to the taxi rank and jumped into the front one, shouting my address to the driver. He pulled away into the London traffic. I checked my watch, I was already 5 minutes late. By now she would be at my flat, no doubt having a good nose around. Offhand, I couldn't think of anything incriminating that I didn't want her to find, and I begged my memory not to be playing tricks on me. The driver made it to the flat inside 15 minutes, and at that point I must have been the only one praising the congestion charge since there was less on the roads. I paid him, and ran across the road to the flat, noting the dirty look the doorman gave me as I forced my way through the door with the cases. Strange, I thought, Graham was normally a pleasant bloke whom I chatted with. Reaching the stairwell, I heard and immediately guessed the form of his irritancy. Someone had Blink 182 on full blast in the upstairs flats. And, since two out of the four were empty, and the occupant of the other was 65, it made sense that Avril was the origin of this problem. Somehow I wasn't angry with her though, if anything it endeared me to her even more. I let myself in with the key and surveyed the scene in the main room. I instantly dropped the cases and stood spellbound. Trust me, any straight man would do the same if he saw Avril dancing topless around his flat, throwing in high kicks and punching the air. I just stared at her amazing tits, small but firm, jiggling around as she moved. Finally we locked eyes and she shut off the music. I must have looked a right fool with a stupid grin on my face. I tried to play it cool. Hopelessly as it turned out. "Alright." I said. "Peachy" she replied. Avril didn't move. She just stared at me, obviously proud of her body. From where I stood, she had every reason to be. I decided to tease her a bit. "You know people can see you from the road," I jested. "So? They get a nice treat, don't they?" she responded. "I must say, I'd like to come home to that sight more often." I said. Within 5 strides I had crossed the room and flung my arms around her, pushing my mouth on to hers. We kissed deeply and passionately, finding each other again. The pace was furious as Avril forced her tongue inside my mouth, before withdrawing and biting on my lip. I ran my hands over her breasts and down her body, aiming to push her trousers down and get her naked. I gripped the waistband, and then I was interrupted. I was stunned as Avril pushed away from me, using her hands on my chest as leverage. I was lucky that she turned, because then I could grimace freely at the pain I felt. Avril spoke, unaware of my discomfort. "Slow down, that can wait till later." She said. "You come in here, dance topless and then tell me I can't have you? Come on, play by the rules." I protested, mildly upset by the rejection. Avril gave me a cheeky grin. "Jon, I make the rules." She said. "Come on, where are you taking me this afternoon?" she asked. I enjoyed the chance to get a little revenge over her. "You'll see when we get there. We'll get some lunch first though, I know a little place nearby. And don't make that face at me, I'm still not going to tell you." I got the feeling that Avril had perfected the stroppy teenager look that she was giving me, but I was determined not to let it get to me. As I'd come to expect from her though, she played the proverbial royal flush to my full house. "Fine. I'm putting my shirt back on then." She stated, obviously in a mock huff. I sighed, and rubbed my forehead, knowing I'd been beaten again. Avril pushed herself into her black T – Shirt, which had a 'Sayonara Tokyo' writing on the front. The skater girl stuck her tongue out at me, and I sighed. "Come on then, let's go." I said. We exited the flat, and went out onto the street, again being blanked by the doorman. I couldn't even hazard a guess at what Avril had done to him to make him like that. The music wasn't that big a deal. I made a mental note to ask later. We walked for 3 blocks, moving further into town. If people recognised us they didn't say anything, something I was quite glad about. I'd never liked being pestered by people who wanted to tell me the Government was a lump of shi… well, you get the idea. Arriving at the small deli, I told Avril to go inside and order while I went to a shop across the street. I bought a packet of painkillers in the chemist, and quickly took two, dry swallowing to a huge effort. I hoped the effect would be near instantaneous, it would need to be due to what we were doing later. I entered the deli, to find Avril chatting with the owner, someone who I was on first name terms with after 4 years of getting lunch here whenever I was in Parliament. "Hey Bob," I greeted. "A cup of tea and the usual jacket potato when you've got time, and for you?" I gestured to Avril. "Erm, tuna salad and a Pepsi please." She said. Her politeness surprised me. I was distracted by Bob. "Window table please Jon. How come I've never seen this pretty young thing before? She tells me you and her are close." Bob might be 60, but the grin on his face made it clear he knew what she meant by close. I laughed and guided Avril to the table, and with a quick glance back shook my head at him. "Try MTV, Bob, if you want to see her." I called out to him. We sat down, and a thought crossed my mind. "This is the first chance we've had to, you know, talk. Can I find out a bit about you?" I asked gingerly. "Yeah," Avril said warily. "Watcha wanna know?" "I don't know, erm, what got you into music?" I asked. "I used to sing at festivals and fairs and the like. That's boring though. Ask me something interesting." I was hardly surprised at her surmise. "OK." I searched my mind for a clever question. Surprisingly, it came to me. "What's your most embarrassing moment?" Avril gave me a funny look. At that moment Bob arrived with our order. She took a quick sip of her Pepsi and waited for him to retire before answering. "At an awards show last year, someone took my belt before we went on stage. I started singing Sk8ter Boi, and every time I moved, my trousers came down a little more. No matter what I tried I couldn't sort them out. Anyway, not usually a problem, but I wasn't wearing anything underneath." At this point she had the decency to look sheepish. She avoided eye contact with me. "They fell really low, and some dickhead photographer was at the back of the stage. He took loads of shots of me with my ass virtually on display, and the next day they were in the press and on the net. It was so humiliating." Avril's lack of a smile told me she was being serious. It was nice that she was willing to share her feelings with me. I tried to console her. "Hey, that sucks. I bet it got you a few male fans though." I said. "Yeah maybe" a half smile graced her lips. Suddenly we both caught site of the man at the next table, just looking at us. Avril's temper went as she realised his presence. "What the fuck are you looking at?" she intoned, fire coming from her eyes. "Nothing. I'm sorry." The young man replied, before hurrying out. I saw everyone in the deli looking at us, even Bob behind the counter. I made an angry gesture with my hands and people returned to their lunches. I thought about Avril's outburst. It was plain that anger was her defence mechanism, but I knew there was a time and a place for it. The guy didn't deserve that. I looked at her, she was engrossed in her salad. I tried to rebuke her gently. "Hey, what was that about? "I'm sorry, its just. Everyone wants a piece of me y'know?" I couldn't think of anything to say in response, so I settled for an alternative to her statement. "I know its unlikely, but he might have wanted a piece of me you know. I'm just as well known here as you are." Avril mearly shrugged, probably a bit embarrassed at her harsh words. . We finished our food and left, and I guided her along the street to our next port of call. I pointed as it came into view. Avril's face lit up, and she ran towards the Planet Lazer. "Cool, come on, lets go." She shouted. I broke into a run to follow her, thanking the painkillers for the temporary relief they afforded me. They should get me through the game. I listened to Avril's banter about how she was going to ' kick me shitless' in there and entered the building with her. * * * * * I exited into the London sunshine, basking in the glory of my moment. Avril followed behind me, her chin on the ground. I couldn't help but rub salt in the wound. "Gonna 'kick me shitless' were you?" I laughed. "20 hits to 9. Looks like I cleaned you out!" Avril gave me a furious look. "Anymore of this and you're gonna get a bad case of blue balls this evening." That was enough to shut me up swiftly. I couldn't even think of a response. I stood looking at Avril. The silence in my mind was filled when I thought I recognised a passer by. Image after image ran through my brain in a second, but I couldn't put a name to the face. We moved off down the street, neither of us speaking. I could sense Avril was wounded by the defeat in the laser game, and I wondered if I had inadvertently given myself a no sex rule for the coming evening. The journey home was silent, as Avril moped along, and I searched my mind for the mystery face of the pedestrian. * * * * * We got back to the flat at 16.00. I noticed Graham in his small office, and decided to gather some information. Handing Avril the key I headed over to him. "Alright mate?" I used a friendly tone of voice Graham just looked at me. I was discouraged, but I didn't show it. "Are you annoyed with me or something?" I tried the direct approach. "No Jon. But that girl of yours. I banged on the door this morning to get her to stop the music, but she just ignored me and turned it up. I had people from the next building coming round and having a go at me." I couldn't stop the smile on my face, even if it wasn't appropriate. "Yeah, that sounds like Avril. Look, I'll have a word, OK?" I said. "Cheers pal." Graham replied. I backed away and went up the stairs. I couldn't really blame him for being annoyed, and I resolved to tell Avril about being polite to people I knew. I reached the flat, where she had helpfully left the door on the latch. I thought I could hear running water, but dismissed my thoughts as me going senile. I moved quickly through the door, and promptly fell over the suitcases that I had left in the hallway earlier. "Oh, son of a bitch!" I said as I landed on the carpet. From the bathroom came unbacked music. "Chill out, watcha yelling for? Lay back, its all been done…" I interrupted her before she could take 'Complicated' any further. "Are you taking the piss?" I called out. "No. And get in here. Now" she ordered. Her tone of voice wasn't one to be caught disobeying. I walked towards the bathroom, my excitement steadily rising as I saw the trail of clothes on the floor. Trousers, t shirt and a fetching red pair of panties all lay there. I leaned in the bathroom doorway, watching Avril through the frosted glass of the shower panes, feeling a growing ache in my trousers. The doors opened a fraction and her head moved into the gap. "Well. Don't just stand there. Are you coming in?" she asked. "No. I thought I'd stick around out here actually," I said, in the most nonchalant tone of voice that I could manage. It was poor, but considering Avril was naked in my shower I thought it a passable expression. "That's to bad. I guess I'll just have to get myself off." She said, mirroring the same seductive voice I heard on our first night together. She shimmied her body side on to the gap in the shower doors, and deliberately took a long lick of her fingers. Sliding her hands over her breasts she moved down to her legs, motioning that she was starting to masturbate. That did it for me. I couldn't take any more of this. I was out of my trousers in about two seconds flat, with my socks and t shirt following in rapid motion. I leapt between the doors, and then pulled them shut behind me. Avril twisted the knife on the again. "You are soooo my bitch. Every time I call, you come running." She said. "Shut up for a change," I said, pushing her under the shower head, causing the first drops of water to wet her mouse brown hair. Suddenly her eyes changed, and I knew the question before it was spoken. "What happened to you?" I thought on my feet. There was no way I was telling her the truth, so I just said the first thing that came to me. "I was mugged in Spain the other day, they gave me a good kicking. I'll explain later." Quickly I pressed on. A naked Avril in front of you makes bruises a pretty boring subject. "You know what's good for pain? Sex. Lots of sex." I said. I leaned into her, trying to kiss her. She pulled back, faking a confused look. "Why's that?" she asked. "Well, pleasure makes the brain release dopamine…" As I tried to go into the scientific explanation, Avril's boredom resulted in me getting what I had desired a moment ago. A deep, passionate kiss. Her mouth tasted just as nice as I remembered it, and she eagerly slipped her tongue through my lips. I looked at her for a second, and it was a beautiful sight. She had her eyes closed, water running off her hair and over her breasts. European Travels Ch. 04 The shower was heating up nicely, and soon we were engulfed in a thick cloud of steam, Avril's pale skin turning redder under the hot water. She looked totally different as her make up washed away, and her trademark straight hair maligned itself as a wet blob across her shoulders. Young, clear skin, those piercing blue eyes and an evil smile made Avril what she was, a lively, sexual monster. That particular evil smile was aimed at me as I studied her in the fog. "What?" I asked. "Nothing." Suddenly her expression changed into a look of angst, almost fear in her eyes. "I've. I've never done this before, Jon." She stuttered. I didn't really understand what she meant. Then Avril slowly dropped down, until she was kneeling in the hot water. My own legs almost buckled in excitement. I swallowed back dryness, even in the humid condition. To know that you're going to be on the receiving end of Avril Lavigne's first blow job is a powerful sedative on the body. Her hand glided up from my kneecap to the top of the thigh in one movement, I sensed she avoided my dick on purpose. Instinctively I reached for the walls of the cubicle, supporting myself. Every task I took away from my body gave me more ability to concentrate on the feelings. My dick was now fully hard, and I had no idea what was going to happen next. When the moment finally broke, it was to the best thing possible. Instead of the teasing and waiting most women do, Avril had just dived in. The warm lips enveloped the front of my cock, whilst water sprayed over the remaining end. Avril noisily sucked at it, biting with her teeth at the same time. She moved both her hands to the base, and squeezed lightly. My senses were in overdrive. Her soft palms massaged my skin, and her eyes were closed, her mind focusing on my taste. With a great effort I came to my full senses, and looked at Avril properly. Her breasts seemed to be larger than I had ever imagined, and as for the rest of her? Her dowdy clothes never did her justice. Smooth, shapely thighs, and a great ass made her one of the sexiest women I had ever met. I had no idea if Avril was giving a good blow job or not, but it was enough for me. I moved my hands down to touch her shoulders, leaning my back against the slippery wall of the shower. I moaned a little, trying to show her how much I was loving this. She was obviously growing in confidence, as she began to try and take her usual control. She completely removed my dick from her mouth, then stuck her tongue out to lick the tip of it. She caught my eye, and gave a funny smile. Suddenly she jammed as much of my dick as she could into her mouth, everything moving at a hundred miles an hour. She sucked rhythmically, using her hands to jerk me gently as well. I could feel it coming, and tried to tell her. "Oh jeez." I panted. "I'm…" In an instant she removed my cock from her mouth and interrupted me. "Cum all over my tits Jon!" she shouted. My dick was immediately hurt at the lack of attention. Quickly, her hands replaced her mouth, stroking me faster and faster. Avril proceeded to whack me off until I could stand it no more. She sensed the tension building in my body, and leaned her head back, exposing as much of her breasts as she could. I had subconsciously suck lower and lower as the wall supported my weight. Avril pointed me in line with her chest, and then gave one last pull. I exploded with thick spurts of cum, the first ones hitting the top of her breast, the final small ropes coating her left nipple. When I was finished, she used both hands to squeeze her tits, rubbing my cum all over them. Then it was gone. The hot water of the shower washed her body clean, and through the steam I saw her hold her face under the jet for several seconds, mouth open, tasting the pure liquid. Sinking to my knees, I tried to bring her back to earth with little kisses around her neckline, and a question. "Enjoy that?" I said quietly. "Not as much as you". She retorted. Avril looked me in the eyes. "And you'll be getting plenty more of them." She added. I laughed a little, and then we kissed properly, tenderly and in the sense of satisfaction that is only present at times like this. Finally Avril pulled away from me. Rubbing my cheek with her fingers, she gave me my cue. "Aren't you going to do something for me?" she asked suggestively. I stood quickly, pulling her up at the same time. She didn't complain as I spun her around, and began squeezing her tits roughly. I just guessed she would like it. My erection was growing, pushing against her firm ass. Avril reached behind her back and grabbed it. "No Jon," she stopped and gasped, then moved instantaneously as I grabbed her sensitive nipple. "Not here. In your bed." She added. Saying no to Avril is about as much use as a chocolate fire guard. It wasn't an unreasonable request anyway. I shut off the faucet, and pulled her out of the cubicle. Reaching for a towel, I dried her back and chest gently while she leant into me. If possible, she looked even more sexy than normal. Tiny droplets hung from her face and ears, and as she pulled her hair down into its normal shape I took hold of her hand. I wanted her. Now. Hastily drying myself, I pulled her out of the bathroom towards the open doorway. A trail of wet footprints showed exactly where we were heading. We only made it halfway before she starting kissing me like there was no tomorrow. After some frantic contact with my mouth, she moved her attention to my shoulder. I leaned into her neck, tilting my head downwards towards her. For the first time I noticed her tiptoe in order to reach me. I wasn't an overly tall man, but as I had heard someone describe her, she was knee high to a grasshopper. It had always escaped my vision; probably something to do with the size of her mental stature. Avril was still busy running her lips over my neckline, but I wanted to get her into bed. My hard on was raging again, so in one movement I swivelled, bent down and picked her up, fireman's carry style. The stifled scream of surprise soon melted into a laugh. Shifting across the room, I deposited her on the bed, then wasted no time in climbing on top of her, kissing and sucking those gorgeous tits. Avril kicked her body up the bed, before resting her head on the pillows. She was all mine now, and by God I was going to enjoy it. Or, at least I would have done had the familiar impatience of the Canadian not surfaced. "ummmmm, come on Jon. Now." She demanded. The was no denying what that instruction meant. Reluctantly I pulled my head from her breasts, leaving wet marks over the nipples where my tongue had been seconds before. As I raised my head to meet Avril's lips, I felt her legs part beneath me, and my weight dropped to the softness of the bed. Nudging her with kisses once or twice, I raised my hard dick off the bed, and slid upwards until I found what I wanted. Still wet from the shower water, Avril's snatch was slick with her own juices as well, and I loved the feeling as I gently ran myself up and down her opening. I remembered the last time she did this. She had looked amazing after she removed those black panties from her ass. Both of us were ready, and so I quickly slid into her, feeling her warmth around me. Avril moaned quietly as I filled her. She was pleasingly tight, and I gave a slight push, moving as much as I could of my dick inside her. It felt as good as ever. I started to thrust and move inside of her, and Avril wrapped her legs tightly around my back, ensuring that I couldn't leave her. Every time I pulled out of her, she forced her thighs down, willing me to fill her again. We settled into a quick rhythm, and I felt Avril's body loose its tension as she relaxed and began to enjoy the sex. Time and again I moved into her wet pussy, hearing her moans and whimpers just turned me on even more. I used my hands to grab her tits, pushing the globes together before moving the nipples between my fingers. She gasped as I put pressure on the sensitive nubs, then raised her hands to mine, locking fingers and wildly pulling my arms around, trying to show how much she was loving this. We kissed again, and the fast breaths coming from her chest began to show she was building towards her orgasm. I duly began to thrust faster inside of her, my body being battered as she moved her hips in time with me, crashing into me with ever increasing urgency. Avril's own orgasm was almost there, and as I fucked her as hard as I could, the second coming of my night wasn't far away. For just a second I ignored her feelings, enjoying the warm feeling inside me as my cum rose nearer and nearer to a finish. Pushing myself harder, I was aware of Avril beginning to shudder beneath me. And then, that was it. Her body stopped moving, and she quietly lay still. With a final movement I forced into her as far as I could, then came. Thick ropes of cum flowed inside her pussy, mixing with her own wetness. It was as near a simultaneous orgasm as we could get. As I finally lay still on top of her, I nibbled at her breasts gently, and she put her hands at the back of my head. Forcing our bodies round, she got on top of me, and then propped herself onto her elbows, staring me down. Not the same angry glare that I had first seen her give me, more of a relaxed, post coital loving look. The deep blue eyes were soooo suggestive, and I fancied my chances of another go later in the evening. She pulled off of me, leaving my now softer dick wet and slippery, a sensation that I always loved. A reminder of what Avril was like. In the next room a window started to rattle, and as my senses reawakened to the outside atmosphere, I heard the familiar sound of rain in London drumming on the panes of glass. Reluctantly I disengaged myself from Avril, and ran towards the living room before water could flood the carpet. Shutting the window, I shivered in the cold of the flat, and started to briskly walk back towards the sanctuary of the bed, and the duvet. As I stopped in the doorway to turn out the light, I saw Avril had beaten me to it, and was settled in the warmth. She raised her hand, and clicked her fingers together impatiently. I immediately got the reference, and slid underneath to join her as fast as I could. "My bitch," she smiled at me. I shrugged, unconcerned. "I'll be your bitch if I get to fuck you again." I raised my eyebrows in enquiry. Avril didn't answer, just moved her hands to my dick, while at the same time starting another slow kiss. It was going to be a long night, and I couldn't wait for it to start. * * * * * Come Monday morning we were acting like a couple who had been together for months. While I got up and sorted out my clothes and papers for the days work, Avril made my breakfast (like any good girlfriend should?) and then the time came for us to say goodbye as I had to leave for work. Strangely enough, we were both quite emotional over it, as we wouldn't see each other for a while now. "Where are you flying to now?" I asked her as I ate my cereal. "Back home." She mumbled. The puzzle on the Cherrios box had completely stumped her as she stared at it. I scanned it quickly. "The answer's 17," I said. "And where is home exactly?" I realised she had never told me. "Napanee. Kind of halfway between Toronto and Montreal." She obviously had figured out the brain teaser. "You bastard, it is 17." She said. I threw a smile in her direction. "Do you live on your own?" I figured now was as good a fact finding time as any. "Nah." She stopped to take a mouthful of cereal, and crunched it down noisily. "With my folks. You'll have to meet them someday." She raised a smile at me. "You think we'll be together long enough for a 'meet the parents'?" I asked. "Defiantly. So when do I get to meet your Mom and Dad?" She was totally unaware of what she was asking. I dropped my eyes away. I suppose I should have guessed that question was on its way. Answering truthfully was the only way out. "Er, you don't." I forced eye contact with her, and gave a small shrug. "My parents are dead." She just looked at me for a few seconds, and then resumed her glare at the cardboard box. I was pleased that Avril didn't push me any more than that, it was a nice sign she was starting to understand me a little. In time I would explain to her, just not now. Not when everything was going so well. We continued to eat in silence for a few seconds, until I glanced at the clock. "I've got to be going." I said. We both stood, and I came around the table to hug Avril. "I want you to have a safe trip," I said. "And." I wanted to ask a question, but held back for a second, for fear of putting pressure on her. I decided to go with it; it felt right. "Er, look. Are you my girlfriend now?" I was treated to an Avril million watt smile. It was a shame not many others ever got to see it. "I should fucking hope so after the stuff you've done to me this weekend." She replied. "I don't give every bloke a blow job you know." She then gave a wry smile. "Despite what you may hear." I turned away and laughed slightly. Her tone became more serious. "Yes Jon, you are my boyfriend. My first proper boyfriend. Happy?" I just nodded, and picked up my case. With one movement she ripped the top off the cereal box, and grabbed the pen from my top pocket. She scribbled down two telephone numbers and an e mail address, then tore it in half for me to do the same. I duly obliged. "Call me any time. I'll try and get back to Britain soon to see you. I finish touring in a few months, then we can spend some time together." She said. "Uh huh. I'll try and come over to where you are as well. If that's alright with you?" I hastily added. "Yeah course." She paused. "I guess this is goodbye for now then." I nodded, and then gave her one last kiss for good luck. Picking up my briefcase, I made towards the door. "Remember to lock up when you go!" I shouted back to her. "Yeah, will do. Oh Jon, is it alright to store a few things in you garage?" she asked. I didn't have time to debate such an odd question. "Yeah sure. Bye. I'll call you soon." With that I slammed the front door, and ran out of the block, already counting the seconds for when I would see her again. * * * * * * * * * * I hung around in the foyer of 10 Downing Street, waiting to be called before the Prime Minister. I was beginning to get really worried. He didn't have the reputation for great man management skills, and if you threatened to become more popular than he was in the polls, well, just look what happened to Mo Mowlam. Surely there was no way that I would be removed from office. The thought was occurring to me more often now, particularly after the Deputy Prime Minister told me that he had been kept out of the loop. Secret plans usually mean shocking ones. I walked confidently towards the office, hoping it would hide my internal feelings. That is the key to a successful hoax, looking the part, and acting the part. Humans have an instinct for sensing when something isn't quite right with a situation, but, if you play like you know the game, the chances are you won't get beaten. I reached the PM's private office, where I was ushered in by the footman. "The Deputy Minister For The Culture Department, Prime Minister." He said, in a grand voice. For the first time in a while I saw the PM, and he looked tired, and worse than that, in a bad mood. I waited to be offered a seat. Sure enough, the hand gestured to the expensive leather backed oak chair on one side of the desk. I slipped into it. "We've been following you for a little while now Jon. What you've been doing is very stupid." He said. For just a second I couldn't even speak. Two short sentences had just changed the whole aspect of my job. "What do you mean?" I asked cautiously. "Your investigation with my Deputy into the Olympic report, your contact with the opposition in Spain, even the somewhat questionable relationships with women." He said. "My private life is irrelevant.." I started, but was rudely cut off. "Not when it causes problems for the Government. You didn't know that when you met with that Ledoyen women she planted a listening device on you, did you? You had no clue that she is involved with a French Nationalist organisation. All things that I could have told you if you'd come to me in the first place." He ranted. I allowed my head to sink lower and place my hands over my face. I had been fucked over completely. All the secrets I thought I was keeping were common knowledge. And Virginie. I though it was too good to be true, but I never had her down as a complete fraud. Still, no time to dwell on that now. "I couldn't be sure you would help me, Sir." I weakly protested. "Rubbish. You just wanted to feel like a big boy for a change. It doesn't matter though, we've got the situation under control. Your boss will be removed under a pretext, the Olympic bid has been rightfully approved, and we've gained a huge amount of intelligence information from your dealings with a group we've been monitoring." "Are you going to sack me?" I asked. The PM paused, and noticeably softened. "No. You are obviously pulling in the right direction. So you'll be promoted to Minister Of Defence soon. These problems we've been having made a reshuffle necessary. So until we can fit you in, you'll be relieved of current duties and become UK Ambassador for a while." I thought about giving a little scoff at the title, but refrained. Best not annoy the PM any more. "You mentioned problems, Sir?" I asked. "Yes. Harry Mortimer has gone dirty. That's the origin of the problems you are having with the Sari group. Incidentally, I'm sorry about what you suffered in Bilbao. Although MI6 were nearby, we couldn't go in. It would have blown our cover. I remained seated as the PM rose, trying to digest everything that he was saying. It rankled me that they knew all along of Harry's corruption, but were quite prepared to leave it alone. He continued. "We think that he's selling information to anyone. We don't know how he's receiving the money, but we've got proof he is the one leaking information." "How?" I asked. My thirst for knowledge seemed never ending. "We received a tip off a while back from a usual MI6 source, saying that information was appearing on the black market about Government projects. Construction, defence contracts, mainly harmless information. The tip off indicated Mortimer, so we tried a serious bait. Do you know E4?" he asked a sudden question. I had to think for a second. "Oh yes. Private Government surveillance teams." "Correct. Incidentally, they're the people who've tailed you over the past weeks. Never mind that though. We tailed Mortimer to a meeting with a known IRA power broker. A member of the PIRA Security Council. So we had to bait him using military information." The PM poured himself a water from the jug. "Last month, I went out to Northern Ireland to try and engineer the restart of the Assembly. While I was there, word came through that the SAS had a chance to eliminate two major PIRA players." The PM swallowed, picking his words. "I approved the operation, and passed it on to Harry the names of the sniper team detailed the task. Or, two names anyway. The guys we used were different people, but he wasn't to know that." His face dropped, so I knew the outcome wasn't good. "Shortly before the hit, the two men disappeared whilst on leave from the local barracks. Most of us with any sense knew they were dead. Of course, the hit went ahead, with the real team. It was successful." "The next morning, word came through that the Guarda had found two bodies dumped in bags outside a road junction in Dungannon County. It was obvious who they were, and who had given the information." European Travels Ch. 04 I suddenly felt a pure hatred for Harry Mortimer. Squaddies who were just trying to protect Britain had died because of his greed. They weren't even given any measure of respect, probably a slow, painful death, and then their bodies tossed from the back of a van on an Irish road, probably pissing with rain at the time. Poor bastards. A minor thought occurred to me. "Why were the bodies dumped over the border?" I asked. "We guess so it would be a while before they were found. It was pure luck anyway, the local Guarda officer had a puncture on his way to Dundalk, got out to fix it and saw the bags in the ditch at the side of the lane. He went to see what they were and…" The PM trailed off, seeming genuinely sad at the loss of life. My respect for him lifted a few notches. I decided to give him a small prod. "You mentioned the 'Sari' group, Sir?" "Yes Jon. It's a long story." We both settled back in our chairs, and I was eager to hear the full version of events. * * * * * I emerged onto Whitehall, feeling a total and utter prick. I had thought I was the dogs bollocks, snooping around, trying to uncover some grand plot, when really I was just a puppet in a play. And I hadn't even been smart enough to let the thought cross my mind. I was well pleased to get a promotion in some respects, but I wasn't relishing the extra responsibility. Having the Security Services and the Military in my control was fine in principle, but the decisions I would be making were going to have wide reaching consequences. I had to take the promotion, because I didn't know if it would ever come up again, but I was just looking at it with a little trepidation. Defence of the Realm was a hot potato at the moment, and I was going to have to be careful not to get my fingers burnt. I knew I should be well chuffed to get a promotion, but nothing could lift my black mood at the moment. The first spots of rain fell onto the pavement, and I looked up to see taxis and buses with their wipers going. I broke into a jog as I went past the Foreign Office and The Treasury; I really didn't want to be caught in a shower. I had already been pissed on once this morning. I got to the Westminster Bridge road junction, and made to turn right, and take a short cut through the nearby shops up the Broad Sanctuary. As I turned, I noticed the police escort stopping traffic, and a hearse travelling through slowly, accompanied by three cars of mourners. Despite my best efforts to blank my mind out, instantly it came back to me. * * * * * Two Years Previously "Many people there tonight, Dad?" I asked. "Fair few, yes son. We saw Charles and Rosemary." "Oh yeah. Are they keeping well?" "Charlie's just retired, he spends his days pottering around his garden now." Dad laughed. It was a dream he wasn't too far away from himself. The car fell silent as I sped along the country lanes. Mum was asleep in the back seat. I had been out this evening, just to watch a rugby match in London, and I had picked my parents up in Basingstoke as their evening gathering had ended. Looking at the dash clock, I noted 23:03. I had only been on the road about an hour and a quarter, good going to cover the 40 miles, especially considering the detour to pick up Mum and Dad. The motorway had been quiet, and we were now off the M3, speeding through the Hampshire countryside towards home. I shifted into top gear, before relaxing with one hand on the wheel, looking through the tunnel of light stretching for half a mile ahead. Home was a nice detached house on the outskirts of the city of Salisbury, famous for its huge Cathedral. Despite having just received my first payday as an MP, after winning the by-election two months ago, I still lived with my parents. If truth be known, I quite liked it there. They didn't bother me; I stayed out of their way. I was making a move to buy a house, but there was no hurry. I had my eyes on a beautiful detached house in a nearby village, but as I wanted to put down a sizable deposit, I thought it best to build up the bank balance a bit first, and so, living with Mum and Dad was the only option for now. That first cheque had bought the beautiful new Audi I was sat behind the wheel of. It drove like a dream, and its powerful headlights lit up the road ahead. We only had about 20 miles to go to home, and had just passed the village of Stockbridge. I realised I probably would have been home by now if I hadn't stopped to pick up the folks, but Dad's car was being repaired, so the taxi duty fell to me. I wasn't that bothered, I was going that way anyhow. I allowed myself to think of my bed for a moment. I was beginning to tire. It had been a long day, and that half a lager I had had before leaving the match was probably having an effect too. I thought of a question about tomorrow's plans. "Are you still…SHIT!" I screamed. The Audi lurched to one side, and the steering wheel was wrenched from my grasp. It took my frantic mind a second to realise that the left front side was in the air, and my foot was still glued on the accelerator, and I saw the plumes of tyre smoke trailing from the car. The vehicle started a slow spin. I realised the back suspension must have collapsed on one side. Oh God the trees! We had entered a wooded area, and they were approaching fast. By now my mother had awoken in the back seat. I knew the impact was coming. "BRACE YOURSELF" I shouted, trying to hang on to the wheel. There was only one option to try and avoid a serious accident. It had only been two seconds since the failure, and I was still doing 50mph. I gently eased up the handbrake. The speed started to scrub off, 40, 30. Then, BANG. One of the rear tyres blew under the load. Immediately the car kicked away from me. I was now a helpless passenger, just like my parents. I tried to swear, but the word stuck in my throat. This was going to be a big impact. I vaguely remember the Audi thudding into the Horse Chestnut on my parents side of the car, The airbag deployed in my face, but my neck whacked into the headrest on the way back. I switched off the engine somehow, and then couldn't stay awake. I saw the dashboard clock again. 23:09. * * * * * The next time I came to I was in a hospital bed. Winchester General I thought. My neck was really stiff, and I couldn't feel much of my legs. They had probably hit the steering column hard in the crash. For just a second there was a fear of paralysis, but then managed to shift my weight slightly. The physician was looking over my leg, and he noticed my eyes coming open. "Good evening Mr Carter. I'm Dr. York." He said. Suddenly it came to me. If I was here, then where? "My parents, were they bought in?" I asked. When Dr York paused and looked away, I knew what was coming, and there was no way I could believe it. Trying to speak, I found I couldn't. I waited for the inevitable with dread. "Mr Carter, I'm told there was a huge impact on the side of your car that your parents were on. It took the Firemen over an hour to cut them out." He stopped, and I glared at him, making him continue. "They both had huge internal injuries, and lost a lot of blood at the scene. We couldn't do anything to resuscitate them. I'm very sorry." We were both lost for words. I swallowed away the lump in my throat, only to have it instantly replaced. How could I have escaped like this? I was in control of the car. I covered my face with my hands. I wasn't going to cry, but I felt like shit. My parents were dead. * * * * * The next few days were humiliating for me. Phoning relatives I never knew existed, talking to close family members whom I hadn't spoken to in years. Accepting condolences time and time again. And being subjected to a police investigation. My blood alcohol level was well inside the legal limit, but I was treated like filth. Never mind the fact that there had been a major mechanical failure on the car. (Attributed to road conditions by scene examiners.) I was never allowed to come to terms with my loss. I had to prove to everybody that I was a man. Jon, who never showed any emotion, could handle anything thrown at him. In effect I shut down my life. I had just become the MP for Wiltshire South, and after taking some compassionate leave I threw myself into the workload, and coupled with mounting public awareness of my profile, I was promoted to a Junior Cabinet Minister inside 14 months. I had never been that close to my siblings when I grew up. Being a few years older than me, we morphed into different generations of people. In my eyes, they became obsessed with money and status symbols, trying to prove to everyone the fruits of their labours, and how good their life was. I liked to think I was above that, and it probably led to our estranged lives. I was upset though, that everyone blamed me for the accident. I was treated like an outcast, and it still is a heavy burden for me to carry. Moving to London just cemented the status, and it contributed to the state of my life. All the while I plodded on alone, with no one to confide in, no one to go to for advice. I've survived like it for so long now I don't really know much different. I still think about the accident, even carrying a little guilt with me. Could I have reacted quicker if I hadn't had alcohol inside me? Defiantly. Would it have made any difference? Highly unlikely. After the funeral I never saw any of my family again, save for a card informing me I had a new niece, Rebecca Elizabeth. A shame she would probably not get to know her Uncle Jon. So that's how I've come to have no family, I don't have many friends either, but that's stories for another day. I stood in silent respect as the funeral cortege passed by, and then quickly made my way home. The past few weeks had caught up with me, and for the rest of the day I lounged around the flat, before watching a DVD and enjoying an early night. * * * * * Probably due to going to bed too early the night before, I woke at 05:30, with London still cloaked in darkness outside. I jumped out of bed, and pulled on a sweater to protect me from the cold of the flat. Stumbling towards the computer in the lounge I sat down, and booted the machine up. Two things needed my immediate attention. The so called 'Sari' group, and Virginie Ledoyen. It turned out that Harry Mortimer had been selling information about entry points into the UK to a cartel known as the Sari group. Quite why our friendly Press Advisor would risk his job and imprisonment for them no one had an answer for. Anyhow, this cartel was based in Lybia, and from what MI6 could acetone mainly dealt in the heroin trade between Afghanistan and Europe in the later 90's. Apparently the pure drug was shipped there to be refined before entering the European market through the Spanish coast around the Straight Of Gibraltar. Just lately though, they had begun to ship large quantities of weapons into the continent. Not just small arms either. Huge anti aircraft artillery, and several other high powered missiles, including some of the old Russian scud jobs of the late 70's. MI6 had suspected they were trying to bring a shipment into the UK for some time, and this suspicion was confirmed when they stumbled upon Harry Mortimer selling them information on weak entry points. News of his turning had travelled fast among the crime syndicates of Europe, and now he was just freelancing information all over the place. But for the moment, that was Special Branch's problem. The Northern Ireland Desk would be involved at some point after the PIRA incident. The CD loaded, and lit up the screen with full details of the group, which I can't repeat for security reasons. What I can say is that the group had close links with German allies, as well as a certain French Nationalist group. I had no idea that Virginie Ledoyen was a fanatical right winger. If truth be known, I couldn't do anything about her either. I'd ordered MI5 to lift her if she came into Britain at any time, but that might not be for ages. I looked forward to some personal revenge though. It turned out that Mortimer had somehow gleaned information of my Olympic report investigation, and indirectly knew it may expose him. I had no idea who'd paid for him to get the report destroyed, and I didn't care. The important thing was that it had been set right now. Anyway, he alerted the chiefs in Africa, they contacted the French group and there on. Virginie was just a pawn, as was I really. As I said, it pissed me off that MI6 knew about most of this, but didn't bother to tell me. I'd put myself in danger, and the Firm had done sod all, save for Deighton pumping me for information in Paris. I saw now that it had all been set up perfectly to enable him to report back to the PM exactly what I knew, and then he obviously made the decision to intervene when I became to heavily involved. Fair one, Deighton was just doing his job, but I'd obviously made a mistake trusting him. Oh well, burn and learn I suppose. I finished reading the file, and destroyed the CD by snapping it in half. It would have to stay like that in the flat until I could dispose of it properly. I couldn't work on the problems for a while, since for the next few days I had to actually do some Government business, and even took the time to go back to my home constituency for some much needed PR work. The events of earlier in the week had started me thinking about my parents again, and I stopped off in the cemetery on the way back to pay a silent visit to their graveside. Come Friday, I decided to confront the big issue in my life. Natalie or Avril? There was no question that I was starting to fall for Avril hard, although there was always the thought that I wouldn't be seeing her for a while. Would it be so wrong to 'keep my options open?' Natalie was amazing, no doubt about it, but I didn't get the same kick from her that Avril gave me. I decided to ring her and straighten with her. I had never actually lied to her, so hopefully if I told her the truth we could still be friends. Locating my wallet I got her number, and dialled it into the phone. Cradling it between my ear and shoulder, I took my freshly made cup of tea from the counter and had a noisy slurp, just as the line connected. "Hello?" said a voice. I instantly knew that it wasn't Natalie. "Er, no. I think I've dialled the wrong number. Sorry." I stammered. "Whoa, hang on. Who are you after?" the female voice asked. I felt a little foolish. "Natalie Imbruglia," I said quietly, waiting for the laugh from the other end. "Who is calling please?" My heart soared. Surely that meant it was the right number. "Jon Carter. A… friend." I paused to find the correct phrase. "Ah yes. She left a message for you. Come down to her house, and I'll give it to you." An address was quickly given to me, which I scribbled down on the phone pad. "And you are?" I enquired "You'll see when you get here." The voice responded. * * * * * Just on a whim, I decided to take the car. It had been a long time since I had driven anything, but thinking about my parents had given me a spur to see if I could still do it. I grabbed my coat, and walked down the stairwell to the underground garages. It had been a while since I'd even been down here, heck, even Avril had probably spent more time here that I had in the past year. Avril. What exactly did she want to store in my garage? Her asking me that as I left had only just come back to me. By now I had reached the door, and flung it up in one motion. I stood slack jawed at the sight before me. I couldn't even see the car through the sea of cardboard boxes stacked high at the front. All of them were stamped 'IMPORT' or, 'FOR SALE IN ASIA ONLY'. I pulled the first box down and lifted the lid. 2000 Taiwanese copies of 'Let Go' came straight back at me. 'Property Of Arista Ltd' was the only English on the carton. I hastily opened more boxes. 14000 Canadian singles of "Losing Grip', 5000 'Knocking On Heaven's Door,' all seemingly stamped with Not For Resale. Add to that a countless number of Skater Boy singles and it was easy to see why I couldn't get access to the car. My mind was boggled at this. Granted, my brain wasn't always in gear at this time of day, but I failed to see why Avril or her record label had to resort to storing compact discs in my garage. I couldn't actually do anything though. I had no - where to move them to, but as soon as I got back I was going to contact Avril and ask exactly what was going on. People soon start suspecting things if you have thousands of CD's in you garage. Something I'd learnt when I was about 18 is that if you find something you can't explain or can't change, put it out of your mind for now. As soon as I'd shifted the boxes to make a clear path for the car I quickly forgot about them as I familiarized myself with the car again. Almost as an afterthought I nicked a few CD's from the boxes. My personal collection wasn't big, and I thought I should at least start listening to Avril's music if she was my girlfriend. For someone on a large salary, I didn't own anything special in the auto game. Just a standard Ford Focus. The insurance company had paid off £20,000 for the wrecked Audi, and I'd bought the car with some of that cash, and then used the rest as a deposit on the flat. I did the maths in my mind quickly. If I'd bought the Focus two years ago, and the last time I used it was on a weekend trip to Normandy a few Christmas' back, then from my calculation I hadn't driven a car in well over a year. The interior didn't smell too nice after all that time standing in a stagnant garage. I slipped into the driver's seat, pushed the stiff clutch in, and turned the key. For just a second there was a sound of rough parts moving, and then she burst into life. I grilled the throttle for a second, before remembering those annoying Castrol TV ads that lectured you about going easy on the car first thing. I sat idly for a few minutes, picking my fingernails, trying to figure out what to do in the next hour. And guess what? I came up with absolutely nothing. Improvisation was the order of the day, but I knew no matter what I tried neither of us were going to come out of this smelling like roses. Engaging reverse, I released the handbrake, and then tried to pull out of the garage. And promptly stalled. "Bloody gearbox," I muttered to myself. A poor workman, with man being the operative word, always blame his tools. Trying again, this time I took the clutch up perfectly and the car rolled smoothly out into the underground bay. In no time at all I was familiar with the machine again, and I crawled through Trafalgar Square towards the Embankment. Whilst stopped at a set of traffic lights, I glanced out the window, and looked at the security cameras outside Charing Cross station. "Oh fuck!" I shouted, thinking I was within the privacy of the car. With the windows down though, a few pedestrians heard me, and openly laughed. I immediately scratched my head. Because I hadn't driven the car in ages, I realised I had lapsed on the insurance and road tax, a double whammy that'll land you in prison if the police catch up with you. I nearly shat myself when I realised that I hadn't paid the congestion charge either, but that could be rectified later on. The lights went green, and due to my agitated state of mind I stalled again, my curses from inside the car being matched by those coming from annoyed motorists. "I'm going to fucking 'ave you, you fucking cunt!" was the pick of the bunch from a bloke in a red Mondeo. I totally misjudged the clutch, and pulled away with a mighty roar, all the while doing about 5 miles per hour. I got to the Embankment as fast as I could, and then thanked the Lord that Natalie had a driveway. At least with the car off the road I was safe from the cops for the time being.