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The Chauffeur

By: MelodyCool



The snowflakes swirled in their quick dance all around the diminutive man. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled his leopard print scarf tighter up and around his slim, pale neck. He had chosen to duck out and wait outside the restaurant to escape the routine goodbyes that always took too long. After almost thirty years of music, parties, and after parties, his band mates never seemed to tire of it. He did. Every one of them worked hard and put in the time and energy but he always felt as though he was the one holding everything together. Long after the instrumental and vocal tracks had been recorded, he remained; mixing, editing, perfecting. When it came to nights like these of what should be celebration, he felt he couldn't even relax because there was still work for him to do. With a deep breath and a right of his posture, he ended the pity party and enjoyed the sound of the cars passing by on the slushy street. People hurriedly walking by didn't seem to take note of him. He almost blended into the shadows in his black wool coat. The only thing stopping that was his platinum blond pixie-ish hair. 'It shouldn't be much longer before a taxi comes by,' he thought. 'He' was Nick Rhodes, keyboardist and founding member of Duran Duran. 

He had no sooner finished that thought and looked up to see a black stretch limo pulling up across the street. Even though he was a star in his own right, he couldn't help but wonder who may be getting out of it. The limo sat there idling for a few moments. Finally, the driver's door opened. The only thing he could see was arguably the most beautiful sight he had seen in a long time. One incredibly long and elegant leg unfolded out of the limo. He looked first at the black Minolo stiletto, letting his eyes travel up the black nylon-clad leg. Just atop the end of the stocking was a garter and a peek of alabaster skin that had been revealed as the driver's skirt rode up slightly in preparation of exiting the limo. As the rest of the leg's owner revealed herself, he pulled in a sharp, cold breath. 'My God,' he thought, 'am I dreaming?'

The woman stood to her full height of at least six feet tall in the exquisite heels. She was clad in a black mini skirt, black tailored jacket with black satin edging, and a black chauffeur's hat. From underneath the hat cascaded the most gorgeous, wavy, chestnut hair which fell to brush the woman's shoulder blades. She arched her back slightly as she removed the hat briefly to shake out her shiny tresses. Nick was captivated. He watched her walk into the nightclub she had parked in front of. He found himself wanting to wait to watch her come out. He waved a taxi by that had slowed to the curb to collect him. He had to see her again. 

Just as the cold finally started to bite through his coat, she emerged. Alone. She was talking on a cell phone and gesturing dramatically. The call ended quickly and everything about her body language seemed to say she was frustrated. He figured she had probably been called to pick someone up that was no longer there. It was in this moment that he decided that a limo would be far better to travel home in than a taxi. Especially one driven by a gorgeous woman whom he just had to meet. He darted across the street just as the woman was getting back into the limo and closing the door. He rapped lightly on the glass, unable to see her face in the glare of the street lamp. The motorized window slid down. As it did, all he could see was the lower half of her face showing from under the hat. Her lips were full and pouty with a layer of red shiny lip colour. She tilted her head and liquid brown eyes slowly lifted from under the brim of her hat to rest on his face. He felt a drop in his stomach. 

"Yes, may I help you," the woman asked. Her voice was like warm silk gliding over his skin and into his ear. 

"It seems you've been stood up," he mused.

"In fact, I have. How did you know?"

"I was standing across the street and saw you pull up," he admitted.

"Yes, well, it does happen from time to time. I suppose I should be going," said the woman.

"Wait. Em, as long as your person didn't show up, are you for hire?" Nick mentally slapped himself for making the woman sound like a prostitute.

One corner of the woman's lip curved up, showing she had made the same comparison from his words. "Well, I suppose I am. How long will you be needing my services?"

"I will just be needing a ride home," he answered.

Nick backed up and allowed the woman to exit the limo again. He didn't need her to open the door for him but he wanted to see her legs again. Standing next to her he now realized that she stood a full head taller than him in the heels. That was just fine with him. He had always had a penchant for tall women, especially ones who were mostly leg. They reminded him of mannequins that you could dress and pose as you wished. 

Nick followed the woman to the back passenger door and allowed her to open it for him. He thanked her and slid in. He immediately turned and realized that the tinted window between him and the driver was up. As soon as he felt her get back into the limo, he lightly rapped on the glass. It lowered slowly. He noticed that if he looked in the rearview mirror, he could see her eyes perfectly. 

"Yes," the woman asked.

"Do you mind if we keep the glass lowered so I can talk to you?"

"No, not at all," she replied a little surprised.

"May I have the pleasure of knowing your name, Miss?"

"Anastasia," she answered. He couldn't see her lips in the mirror but the corner of her eyes narrowed, telling him she had smiled.

"Anastasia," he repeated quietly as if he needed to hear himself say it. "I'm Nick, nice to meet you."

"Thank you. It's nice to meet you as well." Nick knew that given her profession, she had met a lot of celebrities and had been well trained by the limo company to be professional and discreet. Anastasia, of course, then wouldn't admit that she recognized him but her eyes had told him she had.

"May I have your address please?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose that would help," Nick laughed. He gave it to her and felt happy at the fact it would take them about a half hour to get there. It gave him more time to talk with her and admire her stunning eyes in the mirror. He also learned that if he leaned forward slightly, he could see her legs from knee to thigh without her probably noticing. Before long, Nick had to adjust himself and relieve the pressure on his growing erection. Nick was thankful it was Winter and could hide this effect she had on him with his coat.

He kept asking her questions because when she responded, she always looked at him in the mirror. After one of these questions, he failed to look up to meet here eyes, allowing her to see that he had been admiring her legs. She smiled. 'I know who you are, Nick Rhodes,' she thought, 'and now I know you're a leg man.'

She didn't know the half of it. He was a leg, foot and shoe man. Nick had discovered this fetish for the first time around 10 years old. He had been playing with the neighbor girl. She had wanted to play dress up and put makeup on him. Of course he had let her, being fascinated by color and imagery even at a young age. During play, he and the girl had been running around her bedroom and he accidentally got too close and stepped on the back of her dress. She was wearing her mother's oversized heels and couldn't catch her balance. They both tumbled to the ground. He was laughing and tried to help her up but she had been mad at him for tripping her and kicked out at him, catching him in the chest with her high heel-clad foot. Something stirred in him. He grabbed her ankle and ran his thumb over the silk shoe. Time seemed to stand still as he felt the fabric and the pressure of her heel still pushing into his stomach. This was also the moment he had his first erection. The girl eventually pulled her foot away and, thankfully, hadn't noticed his condition. He was never the same again.

Just before they got to Nick's street, her phone rang.

"Excuse me, please. This is my boss, I have to take it."

Nick listened to her one-sided conversation and could ascertain that her next client had cancelled. This gave him an idea. 

"I couldn't help but hear that your next appointment fell through. Does this mean you're free for a while?"

"Well, my shift ends at midnight so if there is anywhere else you would like to go, I can have another driver meet us there and take you home when you're ready," she responded.

"No," Nick stated slowly, "there isn't anywhere else I wish to go. I was going to invite you in for a drink."

"While I appreciate the offer, I really shouldn't. It isn't professional and it has implications," she intimated.

"You said yourself you're off at midnight. That's only twenty minutes from now. I am going to go inside and enjoy a glass of wine. You can wait twenty minutes to drink yours if it makes you feel better. And, yes, I'm very aware that it has 'implications'," Nick drawled as he raised an eyebrow.

'I must be crazy to pass this up,' Anastasia thought. "Ok, but only if you keep this between us."

"Oh, believe me, Dear, I will," Nick said. He waited for her to exit the limo and come around to his side. She opened the door for him again. He got out and couldn't help but reach out and slowly slide his hand up the inside of her leg as he rose. He leaned into her and inhaled her scent. He exhaled a warm breath on her collarbone as he slowly moved his hand away and walked past her toward his door. Anastasia stood there trembling for a moment before she could close the door and follow. This man knew exactly how to make her weaken.

She followed Nick inside and as he closed the door behind her, she went to remove her shoes so as not to get any slush on his beautiful hard wood floors. 

"No. Don't. I want you to keep them on," he said. "Stay right there." Nick went into the kitchen and grabbed a towel. He came back and slowly knelt on one knee before her. He deliberately lifted each foot one at a time and toweled off her shoes, growing harder by the second. Once her shoes were dry, Nick stood, taking a step closer to her. He shrugged his coat off and leaned to place it on the hook behind her. He then reached up and removed her hat. He hung it on the hook next to his coat. He righted himself in front of her and stood there just taking her in for a moment. He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair gently to loosen her curls and fluff up her hair from having the hat on. Anastasia closed her eyes and sighed at the feeling of his touch. My God this man knew what he was doing. 

Nick knew exactly what he was doing to her. This was far from the first time he had seduced a woman. It was, however, the first time in a long time he could remember being this taken by one. He learned very little about her during the ride but he felt drawn in by her. He admired her beauty but felt there was more to her, he just needed to find out what that was.

Nick backed away, wordlessly beckoning her to follow him into the kitchen. As she stood next to his Italian marble counter, she couldn't help but run her fingers over its smooth surface. Nick made a mental note that she must be a tactile person. Perfect, he mentally grinned. 

She watched him open a door in the kitchen and disappear down some stairs. He reappeared moments later with a bottle of 2005 Tignanello. She stood and observed as he deftly opened the bottle and reached for two glasses from the nearby wine glass display. He poured both glasses before offering her hers. He raised his glass and said, "To chance meetings."

They touched glasses and as she took her first sip she watched how his smoky lined eyes sparkled so green in the soft, warm light of the kitchen. His eyes watched her lips as she drank. She leaned back against the island and let her eyes take in her surroundings. Her eyes fell back to him as he stepped toward her. He reached out and took her glass from her, setting both hers and his on the island beside her. He put his right hand on her waist and pressed into her. She could feel his erection pressing into her thigh. Anastasia allowed her head to fall back as he ran his other hand up her outer thigh. Nick buried his face in her neck and let his lips trail slow, heated kisses across her throat. He felt the vibration in her throat as she moaned, urging him onward.

Nick's hand lightly traced the lace pattern on the top of her stocking while he continued his path of kisses up along her jawbone. When he reached her lips, he captured her lower lip between his, sucking it into his mouth and lightly nipping at it. He soothed the scant bites with his tongue before capturing her entire mouth in his. Anastasia moaned into his mouth as she felt Nick press even harder into her. He began moving against her very slowly, relieving the aching need in him to have contact with her. He sensed she needed the same contact and moved his hand from her outer thigh to gently rest the back of it on the outside of her silk panties. He could feel her heat and moisture. He slowly brushed his hand back and forth over her mound. She began moving against his hand in lust-filled desperation. 

Just as they were building a rhythm together, Nick backed away. He was breathing heavily and brought his hand up to run It through his hair. He stood there watching her heaving breasts with his fingers touching his lips. His eyes moved hungrily over her body. He stepped forward suddenly and grasped her hips, lifting her up and onto the countertop. Anastasia noted that he was much stronger than he looked. Nick reached his long, elegant fingers out and began nimbly undoing the buttons on her jacket. He slowly peeled the lapels back and moved to cup her breasts. He felt the weight of them, not large but big enough to have beautifully rounded mounds at the top of her bra. Nick used his thumbs to trace the outline of her nipples, causing her to arch her back and press her breasts further into his hands. He pulled down the very edge of the lace and slowly took a nipple into his mouth. He traced lazy circles around it before quickly flicking his tongue back and forth. Anastasia thought she would come right then and there. She imagined she was leaving evidence of her wetness on his countertop. Nick released her nipple and moved to her other breast. His desire overtook him and he bit down lightly causing Anastasia to cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. He quickly soothed her with long, flat strokes of his tongue. Nick leaned back and began to undo the buttons on his shirt Anastasia reached out to help him but he politely pushed her hand away. He wanted her to watch him. Yes, the voyeur had a little exhibitionism in him.

Nick let his shirt slide from his shoulders and onto the floor. He returned his hands to Anastasia' legs. He caressed her stockings. He held onto her legs as he stepped back. He moved back until his hands were circled around her ankles. He lifted up her legs and placed her feet on his chest. He leaned forward, allowing the sharpness of her heels to press into his flesh. He pulled in a sharp breath and let a sigh escape his full lips as he flashed back to that defining day and indulged the ten-year-old boy in him that was denied so long ago. 

He brought one of her shoes up to his mouth and ran his tongue along the spiked heel, drawing it into his mouth in much the same way that a woman would take a lover into her mouth. He placed her foot back on his chest. He looked up into her face, almost forgetting there was someone attached to these legs. He was searching her eyes for acceptance and understanding in this adventure. As if knowing what he needed, Anastasia slowly nodded giving him the permission to completely indulge his fantasy. He needed no further affirmation. Nick immediately removed one of Anastasia's shoes and set it gently on the counter next to the wine glasses. He slid his hands up her thigh to the garter. He was not a stranger when it came to knowing his way around women's undergarments and quickly released her stocking from it. He looked up into her eyes, holding her gaze as he peeled it from her leg and discarded it to the side.

Nick picked up his glass of wine and tilted it, spilling a small amount onto her foot. He watched in lustful admiration as the garnet-colored liquid contrasted against her alabaster skin, running down toward her beautifully shaped toes that wore the same colour as her lips. Nick brought her foot up and slowly suckled her toes, catching the heady nectar before it could fall to the floor. He slowly used his tongue to clean up her foot. 

Anastasia no longer wanted to be just a passive participant in Nick's fantasy. She watched as Nick unbuckled his belt but she stopped him as he reached for the top of his pants. "I have a fantasy of my own," she purred. "I like to see and feel a man's hard cock through his pants."

She immediately knew how she could combine their desires. She raised her foot again, this time even with Nick's hips. She reached out and placed her foot gently against the straining bulge in his pants. "Oh, God," Nick gasped as she began slowly moving her foot up and down along his length. She could feel the exact outline of his cock and was torturing him with her movements. She again marveled at how his small stature would never have given away how large he really was. She began alternating between long, slow strokes and moving her foot back and forth quickly to create a vibration against him. Nick arched his hips toward her. He looked down, watching her foot moving against his hardness. A small spot was forming on the front of his pants from his desire. He couldn't take much more.

He roughly grabbed Anastasia's legs and yanked her toward him, almost pulling her off the counter. She like the aggressive Nick that was emerging now. He leaned her back on the counter and moved his hands up to unzip her skirt. He pulled her skirt down along with the garter and remaining stocking, letting her shoe fall with them. He marveled in the sight of her nakedness. He took in her flat, somewhat muscular stomach, letting his eyes drift lower to the almost bare sex that he now craved. He leaned over her and nuzzled his nose against her stomach, the heat of his breath sending shivers across her skin. He dipped his tongue into her navel and teased her, showing her what his tongue could do. He blazed kisses and licks down her lower stomach until he reached her aching pussy. He admired the light playing off her glistening lips for a second before leaning down again and parting her lips with one long upward stroke of his tongue. "Ah," Anastasia cried out.

Nick took this as encouragement and began swirling his tongue in circles around her engorged clit. He pulled her bud into his mouth and used his full lips to suck gently, creating a perfect suction. Even more blood rushed to plump her clit as he did this. Anastasia was moving her slickness against his face in response to the amazing feeling that was warming her core and radiating to her limbs. She could feel her release coming. Nick sensed this as well and took two of his long fingers and slid them into her wetness. He could feel her tightening around his fingers and sped up his motion inside her and of his mouth which was now clamped over her pussy as his tongue flicked rapidly against her clit. 

"Oh, God! Oh, N-Nick," Anastasia managed to cry out as her hips arched up in one final thrust toward her release. Nick held still and let her ride out the waves of her orgasm that crashed down upon her. When she had started to rest her hips back on the counter, he gently removed his mouth from her and slid his fingers out. He put his fingers in his mouth and savored the flavor of her again as he stared directly into her eyes. He watched as she tried to recapture her breath. He reached forward and brushed away the wet tress that had glued itself to her temple. He planted a quick and hungry kiss on her swollen lips before giving her a smile that said, 'My turn.'


The Chauffeur



Highway 101, five PM on a Friday. Got to love it. Fucking sucks. God dam traffic jams. 

"I hate this fuckin' place," she screams out her window. 

Eight lanes of traffic and not one car moving. People are getting out of their transportation and milling around waiting. For what? Something? Anything to move. Fuck!

Sandra Livingston, age 33, professional driver. Five foot four and solid dynamite. Not doing so well today. Nothing has gone right yet today. She was late this morning to pick up a client at the airport in LA. Some fat cat and his cunt arm candy. Delivered them on time anyway to his private club down town. Halfway there a hot engine light comes on. WTF? Being experienced counts for something. She stopped at a gas station and popped the hood. The problem was obvious. Some shit head mechanic didn't put the radiator cap back on after servicing the Lincoln Town car Limo. She closed the cap and the engine cooled down. Got a pretty good tip even though she declined to join him and his stripper girl friends invitation to dance at his club. She was a little pissed that he'd even make the offer, but then she had considered it more than once herself when she was down and out with no job. She was able to turn heads for sure. Her long hair and petite frame oozed sex and she knew it. Guys were always after her ass. But, not the life for her. Men ran the clubs and the pimps preyed on the girls. Men were assholes plain and simple. Once they had you, they treated you like they owned you. Fuck that. The open road and adventure over the horizon beckoned. Ah yes adventure. That's what they call this. 

"Come on!!!" "What the fuck is the problem here," she shouted! 

"Never gonna make the next pick up at this rate. Good thing it's not till Nine PM. It'll take that long to get there." By the GPS it's only eighteen miles.

Looking out the very tinted windows of her limo she saw several men lounging on the guardrail from a truck just ahead of her. One guy was pretty hot actually. If she wasn't so angry she might have some fun thinking about that guys big arms wrapped around her thighs and his head buried in her now warming crotch. She looked to her left side and another large truck was blocking the side view. Not that anyone could see in the windows. It didn't look like she was going anywhere soon so why not relieve her stress the old fashioned way. As a young girl she discovered that touching herself made her relax and feel better when ever she felt loneliness or anger. Placing her hands on her budding breasts and rubbing the small protruding nipples made her warm inside. It gave her special warmth in her crotch. A warm hand would eventually snake down through the waistband of her shorts and panties where the tips of her fingers would just need to touch the top of the opening. She called it her "coozie." There was a little bud of skin there that she didn't know what it was but if you touched it, it made you tingle and get really warm. She didn't like to touch it directly because that didn't feel that great but if you took two or three fingers and placed them at the top of the little bud and wiggled the skin on that boney area soon your breathing would speed up and a tingly feeling would spread from somewhere inside deep in her pelvis and radiate outward to her stomach and chest making her skin warm and rosy red. After a little while more of this teasing her breathing would come fast and shallow and little squeaking noises would come out of her mouth and she would be overcome by a warm rush that caused her legs to stiffen and straighten. A wet slippery liquid would be oozing from her coozie. Some times as a teen she would repeat this process several times a day while she imagined a favorite man she had met in her life. Now as an older woman who had experienced the realities of life with many men, she still favored the pleasure of her own company because after all if you want it done right you have to do it yourself. Speaking of doing things yourself... The guy on the guardrail just took his shirt off. Nice ripply six pack of muscles. 

"Mmmmm," she thought. "Wouldn't that be nice to feel that body sliding up against hers?"

Or have him mount her doggie with those strong legs? She looked around and slid her hands down into her lap and slowly, cautiously began to unhook her belt and unbutton her pants. That need for that warm feeling was overcoming her fear of being seen. She slid her hand down to the top of her pubic bone and began to jiggle the flesh there which began to stimulate her clit making sure not to actually touch it. All the while looking at Mr. Six-pack's chest. He was sunning himself on the guard rail. That warm feeling beginning to spread, she dipped her middle finger between her lips a few times to spread the wetness onto her clit and then went back to the stimulation of her clit. Her breath now coming in short gasps and that familiar tightness starting in her ass hole as her body began to tense. Her blood was beginning to flow into her brain with more chemical warmth and her pussy was beginning to hum. Subconsciously she licked her lips as she spread her knees to allow her hand more access. Dipping her finger again. Her juice was so slippery and smooth. No wonder guys loved sliding their cocks into her cunt. You can never have enough lubrication, she only wished they were more into making her reach her climax. Mr. Six-pack was looking in her direction now. His tight shorts were telling on him. His cock was pressing his zipper. He had to be a tightly whiteys guy. She new he couldn't see her as her fingers were vibrating her clit but it excited her to think he could. Her climax was approaching and she had to concentrate on not giving herself up as she came. Her finger dipped more often into her wet cunt and back to working her clit. On the edge now. Her eyes closed and that warm feeling was spreading through her like a warm tide. A moan escaped her lips and her head rolled back as a hot wave pulsed through her body. Her hand cupped her cunt and her fingers caught the wetness expelled from her lips. A deep rush of breath and it was done. She dipped her fingers in a few times for good measure. Her brain absorbing the rush and a feeling of relaxation spreading through her. Good thing she had a wad of napkins form eating on the road stashed in her door compartment. Slowly she withdrew her hand, fingers dragging through her slippery lips for good measure, and wiping the juice on her napkins. Ahhh, that felt good. It didn't do anything for getting her out of this fucking awful traffic jam but at least she felt more relaxed. For a few minutes anyway. End of part 1

Three hours later she pulled into a ritzy high rise. A doorman came out to meet her. 

"I presume you are here for Mr. Magnus?" he said. 

"You would presume right," she said a little sarcastically. 

"He will be arriving shortly," said the doorman. "You may wait here."

"I may wait here," she mouthed. "What a tight ass prick," she thought. "Who is Mr. Magnus anyway," she mused?

Although the name did sound familiar, she didn't really care. All she cared was he paid well for her to be in this city at this time of the night for who knows how long. Shortly a dark man dressed in an obvious nice fitting Armani suit came down the stairs to the limo. The doorman opened the door for him and he got in. The door shut. She waited for the com phone to ring. It didn't ring. 

"Now what," she thought? She knew she should wait for the client to call her. Finally after several minutes she picked up the phone. It would ring in the back as soon as she picked it up. Suddenly the window between the driver and the back rolled down. She turned to look still holding the phone. 

"You can put that down now," Magnus said, in a firm but commanding tone. 

His voice made her nervous instantly but she didn't know why. 

"Where would you like to go sir," she stammered quietly. 

"Anywhere I can get some piece and quiet," he said. "Take me to Mulholland. It's quiet up there."

"Yes sir," she said, and pulled away from the curb, raising the window between them. 

"Leave that down," he said. 

He didn't say it in a mean way but his voice had a commanding edge to it. Like he was used to issuing orders. She lowered the window immediately. He was looking at her in the mirror. His eyes boring in. She glanced away. Those eyes were like drills boring into her scull. He had said or done nothing to make her uncomfortable yet she was. A trickle of sweat ran down her neck behind her ear. He took a deep breath as if he smelled her scent on the air like a predator tests the air for its prey. 

"What's your name driver," he asked?

"Sandra Livingston," she said. 

"Do I make you nervous Sandra Livingston?"

"No sir. Why do you ask?" 

She regretted the follow on question immediately.

"Because you are sweating in an air conditioned car." That's obvious," he observed.

Now she was getting uncomfortable. Those eyes were like lasers. What's with this guy?

"I can smell fear you know. I'm not going to hurt you. Relax. I won't make you do anything you don't want to," he said softly. 

She reached instinctively for the comfort of the Glock under her armrest. 

"May I call you Sandra," he asked? 

"Yes," she said rather too quickly.

"How is it that a woman as handsome as you is driving a limo?"

"It's a job," she said. Ignoring the impertinence.

"I bet you've had other offers from your clients," he said.

"Daily," was her reply. 

"No boyfriend either," he said matter of factually.

"How did you arrive at that," she said boldly?

"No rings," he said. 

"You are very observant." was her reply. 

She liked this man a lot all of a sudden. They pulled into the parking area on top of the mountain overlooking the ocean. 

"Here we are," she said. Hoping he would say OK lets go. But he didn't.

"I want to sit here for a bit. I jut want to talk to someone for a while who doesn't want something from me or want to kiss my ass for something. You up for that Sandra?"

"I'll sit here as long as you are paying me to," she said. Regretting the snippy tone immediately. He ignored her tone, and said.

"A woman who knows exactly what she wants. How rare. You have lovely hair you know. Why don't you let it down?"

"I beg your pardon," she said annoyed. 

"I said you should let your hair down. Humor me."

Her hands quickly reached for the hair ties to release the mass of hair on her head. She was thinking I may have to shoot this guy. At the same time she got a quiver in the pit of her stomach from the sound of his voice. A little pang that excited her. No one had dared speak to her like that before. Why did she let him get away with it?

"You have very nice hair Sandra. The sweat will dry quicker with it down." 

He was baiting her and he knew what buttons to push. That voice made her insides turn to mush. And she was getting wet. Where would he go next she wondered?

"I know you think I'm a wacko. But I'm not. I know all about you. I had a detective follow you for weeks."

"What the fuck are you playing at," she shouted, suddenly angry and afraid at the same time.

"Lower your voice." He glared at her.

She bit her lip. What was going to happen next? This was getting crazy.

"I understand you like sex shops? Not just ordinary lingerie shops but the kind where they have those movie machines and toys. You buy a new toy every week. You don't need to deny it."

"Why should I. It's my private business. How dare you..."

"Stop it! I like a woman who likes a little adventure. You're really sweating now. I have $500.00 in my wallet that says your cunt is dripping right now. Care to bet me? Want to take my money?"

She knew he was right. She was excited. More excited than she had ever been at this moment in time. He was so bold and exciting. 

"What do you want from me, she asked?"

"Your trust was," his reply.

"My trust?"

"Yes. You will not regret it. I assure you."

This was crazy. She didn't know this guy from Adam but she did trust him. He could have made numerous moves on her in the time they had been together, but he had done nothing but talk and her panties were drenched.

"What do I have to do?" She asked.

"Only what you want to do was his response."

"And that is.... she said softly?"

"Come back here and sit beside me."

"That's against the rules," she said.

"Fuck the rules! Get back here!"

She liked the power in his voice and got out and went around the side of the car. He opened the door for her. She sat on the seat beside him. He smelled good. She hoped he hadn't noticed her smelling him. 

"I'm sure you don't know that I own this limo company and I make the rules," he said. You're safe with me."

They sat in the back and looked out over the city to the ocean for quite a while. She leaned on him and felt very tired. Before long she felt his warm hands on her head. A long day had caused her to drift off into a peaceful slumber.

"You're drooling on my suite," he said. 

"Oh! I'm sorry;" she blurted and reached for a tissue to wipe it off. 

"Forget it," he said as he pulled his silk handkerchief and dabbed his shoulder.

"I have an idea. Since you're rested lets go for a ride."

" Where would you like to go," Sandra asked, as she shook herself awake?

"To the nearest sex shop," he said. A glance at his face told her he was serious and he was paying the bills, so into the front seat she went again and started the car. End of Part 2

"Anyplace in particular?"

"Take me to that place you like. The one with the girls who demo the toys."

A pang of adrenalin hit her. That was an awesome place. The toys there were expensive but they were delightful. Off they went. 

A Touch of Delite was the name of the store. As soon as you get inside a pretty demonstration sales person greets you. You are given a department tour then left on your own to look over the wares for a while. If you have any questions the sales model is there to answer them. Sometimes the sales model is a guy which makes it even better if you can get him to accompany you into the back rooms. Which of course he's not supposed to do. The back of the store is like Disneyland for the perv crowd. Peep show booths where selected videos run. Glory hole rooms with camera feed's to booths so you can pay to watch girls give anonymous guys blow jobs. A room with a window that has a machine hooked to it that you put money in and the shade goes up. A girl is inside and she will demo any toy you wish. When the money runs out the shade goes down. A novel way to pay the help. It's actually a favorite of couples according to the manager. 

They went inside and before they could look around they were met by a sales person. She welcomed them and recognized Sandra. 

"I know you've been here before. You know the game. If you need anything let me know" and she scampered off into the store. 

The store was set up in departments. Kinky, cute role playing outfits. Lotions and oils. Books and How to videos. Actual erotic videos. And the toy department. Sandra's favorite section. A door with a sign that said, you must be twenty-one to enter here, led to the back room play area. Jack, Mr. Magnus, was interested in the toys. He steered Sandra to the manacles and various whips and chains. 

"I understand this is a favorite toy section of yours Sandra." He was fiddling with the various handcuffs and keys. 

"I have several sets of these," he said. And these. He was looking at manacles. Cuffs with a long chain between them. Sandra's stomach was beginning to tighten and a familiar little pang was developing between her legs. 

"They are nice," she managed a hoarse whisper. Her eyes were wide and her blood was up because she felt flushed. 

"I have a nice playroom you might be interested in sometime," Jack said.

That sounds nice, she thought. Do I dare go that far with him just yet? They drifted to the dildos and butt plug section. 

"So many different types," mused Jack, as he looked them over. Anything here strike your fancy Sandra?"

" Oh, I like the wireless stuff. This one is nice." She was showing him the rather large wireless butt plug. 

"I suppose you have one of these," he said. 

"Not this particular one, but one like it."

" What about these dildos? Which one strikes your fancy?" There were all shapes and sizes. Some with a little hook on the end, others just straight. Thin ones, fatter ones, all different colors. Too much to choose from. 

"I think this one looks interesting," he said, holding up a blue vibrating rabbit. It had a long gyrating dildo with a smaller one that could obviously go in a butt hole and little snake like set of fingers on it for teasing a clit for sure. "What do you think of this one holding it up for her to see?"

The color was draining form her face and her pussy was beginning to leak at the thought of that thing in the right hands and what it could do. She swallowed. 

"Oh I think that would be fun for sure."

" OK," he said. "They're yours." 

She was delighted. They were toys she had been wanting for a long time but she also wanted someone to play with her with them. It seemed she had found that someone. The sales clerk collected his purchases and took them to the counter. 

"Anything else," she asked?

"I don't know yet," said Jack. "We're going to take a look in the back before we go."

The back was Disneyland. She had wandered through there briefly on a few occasions. The booths didn't interest her. She could watch vids on the computer. The Glory Hole booths were too scary. But having Jack with her, the toy demo booth might be fun. She steered him in that direction to see if he was game. 

He said, "This is the demo booth you told me was a favorite of couples?"

"Yes," she said. "Never been in there."

" Well let's check it out, he said. 

They entered a small room. About eight by eight feet. There was a bench in the middle of the room and that was all the furniture. The room was clean and white. A sink and waste can in the corner. One wonders why? A large plate glass window the whole length of the wall and as high as the ceiling was on one wall of the room. A blind was drawn covering the whole window. A coin and dollar bill receiver was on the wall. The sign said deposit twenty dollars for the first 20 minutes and five dollars for the following ten minutes thereafter. Seemed easy enough. He turned and locked the door as Sandra sat on the bench. He pulled out a twenty and fed it into the machine. A bell was heard behind the window and the shade began to rise. In a room behind the glass was a large stuffed leather chair and in the chair was a young red headed girl in a fluorescent green bikini. A very small bikini. She reached over and clicked the switch on a panel and a speaker crackled in the room where they sat on the bench. 

"Hi. My name is Terry and I'm pleased to be your toy demo girl. By the way I can't see you because the glass is one way so all you have to do is talk and I can hear you. What would you like me to demonstrate, she said? I have quite an array of toys here as you can see." 

Sandra was busy eying the toys and in the dark trying not to touch her crotch. 

"I think I'd like to see that rabbit dildo in action," said Jack. 

Sandra's heart jumped. He must have felt her move because he slipped his arm around her. 

"Remember, she can't see us in here," he whispered. 

His hand tightened around her midriff. His fingers were big and strong. She knew he could feel her heart pounding now. The girl in the booth was standing up now and she had removed her bikini. She had a small patch of red above her pussy. Her lips were folded inward and made a smooth looking bun. Her clit was protruding above her lips and her hood was pierced. Jack was riveted on the show. So she thought. She was lubing up the rabbit and began to chitchat about its usage. 




The Chauffeur



"One thing about these toys is you can never have enough lube," she said. With that she turned it on and began to tease her lips open with the tip. It was apparent she was a very sexual girl because the tip of the rabbit had no sooner penetrated her than she lay back in the chair and eased it in with a moan. 

"Oh, that feels wonderful. If you don't have one of these for your girl you need to get one."

The little forked tongue was now tickling her clit and the smaller dildo was teasing her asshole. Jacks hand slid upward and was flexing against her ribs. His other hand was on her right thigh. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Exactly what Jack was waiting for? She was ready for some relaxation technique. His hand moved upward to her left breast and massaged the outer curve of it gently. Sandra leaned into him and put her hands on his and pulled it into her lap spreading her legs slightly. He cupped her pussy with his hand and felt the warmth through the material. 

He whispered in her ear, "I'm going to strip you in here."

She shuddered at the thought and leaned into him more and whispered back, "You'd better not start anything you can't finish."

Emboldened by her retort he slid his hand in to the waist of her pants and pulled out her shirttail, sliding his hand up her back on bare flesh. His fingers slipping beneath the fabric of her bra and circling around her breast now. The tips of his fingers caught her hardened nipple between them and gave it a little squeeze. She drew a sharp breath and pulled his other hand into her wet crotch tighter. He spun her around side ways on the bench so her back was to him and ran his hand across her chest to the other breast pushing he bra up and off her tits. His fingers found the other nipple and his hot breath touched her on the neck. She leaned back into him with a moan. The girl in the booth was unable to see any of this and was blissfully working the rabbit in and out of her own cunt with a monolog of the benefits of self relaxation. Neither of them heard a word she was saying. His other hand now joining its mate in cupping her breasts and teasing the nipples with little pulling motions as his lips nibbled at the base of her neck and suck kissed her shoulder blades. 

"This shirt has to go," he whispered and began unbuttoning it from the top carefully as he kissed her. 

She was melting. The bra soon joined the blouse on the bench and his hands fumbled for her belt. Her hands joined his and the belt and pants were unsnapped and opened. The hand on her breast slid slowly down her belly until the finger tips just grazed the pubic bone. Sensing what was coming next she arched her back slightly to give his hand more room to explore. He knew what he was doing this one, she thought. His fingers stopped just above her clit and massaged the little patch there. Her clit was on fire now. He had hit the right button. Her gasp told him he had hit her spot. A little vibrating massage in this spot and she began to arch her back and work her pubic mound upward trying to get those fingers just around that clit but not touch it. She reached down with her own hand and dipped a finger between her lips gathering the moisture there and dragging it up onto his fingers lubricating them and her bud. Her breathing becoming ragged and quick. He sensed she would be cumming soon and continued his ministration on her mound. Again she dipped her own fingers and lubed her own clit. 

Her head leaned back onto his shoulder and she breathed into his ear, "I'm going to cum just keep going like you are don't change a thing."

With that she stiffened and let out a quiet squeal as the wave rolled through her. The heat flowed from her cunt and outward and upward to her head. She lost consciousness for a moment and he sensed she had cum. He noticed her eyes had rolled and she took a deep breath and let it out in a few quick huffs and she went limp. Her body rolling into his. His fingers at last sliding into her wetness briefly and testing the sticky wetness. He pulled his hand back and smelled her on him. There is nothing like that smell to a man. Once he has smelled a woman like that he never forgets it all his life. 

Jack Magnus, millionaire, businessman, trouble shooter, lover of women, had met the woman of his dreams at last. He just knew she was the one. But would she be his one? Would she go for his kinky darker side? The side that made him feel alive. No woman had ever done this with him before and it was definitely exciting. In the distance he heard the girl behind the glass making a familiar noise and he turned to look at her just as she too climaxed. "Poor girl," he thought. We completely ignored her. 

He thanked her for the demonstration and said good night as the curtain came down. A mental note was made to leave a big tip for her at the front desk. Sandra stirred to life again. 

She moaned, "Jack?"

" Yes darling. The shows over we have to get going. Let me help you get dressed."

Some wet towels from the sink freshened them both up and out of the booth the desk to pick up their purchases. He half carried her to the car and placed her in the back seat. On the way back to his high rise he chatted with her through the open window. 

"Do you have a license to drive this limo," she asked? 

"Fuck no. But I own the limo company, so who cares, he laughed. I'm going to ask you if you want to spend the night with me. You don't have to if you don't want to but I'd like to see you again soon."

Her response was almost immediate. "I'll do anything you want as long as you make me cum like that again and again." He smiled.

End of Part 3



The Chauffeur & the Lady



Julie duly accompanied her husband Richard to the airport as he left for another of his overseas business trips. The Rolls Royce cruised along the country lanes with Peter, the recently appointed chauffeur/stable master, driving in the front seat. Richard had his nose stuck in business papers and as Julie gazed out the windows her mind once again turned to the smell of the leather. Every time she sat in the Rolls the aroma of the leather seats made her so wet and she shifted in confusion on the cool rear seat.

Julie had married Richard eight years ago and the marriage soon lost its gloss. She had everything she could possibly need in the large manor house and plenty of money to purchase virtually whatever she desired. Amy, the maid/cook who had been employed at the same time as Peter, looked after Julie and the house. But the lack of attention from Richard grew more frustrating as the months passed. Julie was a highly sexed woman but her vibrators in the bedroom drawer were not enough to satisfy her desires. Two years ago she had purchased a computer and that had opened up a whole new world. She gratefully found that her fantasies of pleasure and pain were not hers alone, that there were thousands of others out there with similar needs. But of course Julie had to keep to herself and could not speak to anyone about her desires.

Julie jumped as Richard gave her a kiss on the cheek as the car came to a halt on the airport concourse. Her daydreaming stopped as she bade farewell to her husband; he would be gone for nearly two weeks. Julie waited in the car as Peter carried the suitcases inside, wanting to touch herself so badly. She was grateful when Peter returned and they headed in the direction of home.

“Ma’am you know I have to drop the car into the dealers for its regular service?”

“Oh yes of course Peter, how do we get home from there?”

“I have arranged to borrow a car Ma’am, then I will return it tomorrow and collect the Rolls.”

“Very good Peter, I should have known you would have everything arranged.” Julie smiled at Peter’s reflection in the rear vision mirror. She was aware that Peter kept glancing at her while he drove and it pleased her that she still attracted the looks of men wherever she went. While she knew that Peter was forbidden fruit, the fact that he was in the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ category made him good to have around. He was an excellent worker, his dual duties with the transport and the stables being efficiently handled every day. “Tell me Peter, are there any good chauffeur jokes? I could do with a laugh.”

“Chauffeur jokes? Yes Ma’am I know a few, but they are all a bit rude.”

“Come on Peter tell me one,” Julie pleaded, “Cheer me up.”

“Very well Ma’am. A chauffeur was driving the eighteen-year-old daughter of his employer home from boarding school for the summer holidays when the car got a flat tire. The chauffeur got out to put the spare tire on but he was having trouble getting the hubcap off the wheel with the tool from the car’s kit. The young lady was watching his futile efforts and said, “Do you want a screwdriver? To which the chauffeur replied. “Might as well, I can’t get this bloody hubcap off.”

There was silence for a short time until Julie suddenly burst out laughing, “Screw driver! Ha ha, very funny Peter!”

Peter smiled his thanks into the rear vision mirror while Julie giggled to herself in the rear seat.

A short detour brought them to the Rolls Royce dealer and it wasn’t long before Julie was seated again on leather in the front passenger seat of a sporty BMW roadster. A thrill of excitement ran through her body as Peter settled in the driver’s seat beside her.

“Please put the safety belt on Ma’am,” Peter asked as he eased the BMW into the traffic.

Julie complied with his wish and soon they were cruising down the hedged lanes towards the manor house.

“Peter, you are a trained driver right?” Julie suddenly asked.

“Oh yes Ma’am, I have done courses in defensive driving and I did race cars some years ago.”

“Well why not show me what this car can do,” Julie demanded, “I get bored driving slow in the damn Rolls all the time.”

Peter’s answer was to drop down two gears and floor the accelerator. The BMW shot forward and was soon moving quickly but safely down the lane.

“Yes that’s better!” Julie cried as the air rushed in the open window blowing her hair awry. The familiar dampness between her legs reappeared as Peter worked the steering wheel smoothly through the turns, also enjoying himself.

The car slowed and stopped as they came to a main road. 

“Ma’am, you seem to be enjoying yourself, may I make a suggestion?”

“Yes Peter?” Julie was intrigued.

“There is too much traffic to really let this car go, but I could go to the old airfield near home. The access roads around the perimeter are still in good condition and quite safe, that’s if you want to Ma’am.”

“Wonderful, I need some excitement in my life, let’s go!” Julie exclaimed.

Peter grinned and soon he was opening the gates into the old airfield. 

As he climbed back in the BMW he said, “I know these roads well Ma’am so don’t be alarmed. I used to race here many years ago and I came here a few days ago in my car on my day off. Just sit back in your seat and hold onto the grab handle.”

Peter smiled at Julie as he reached across to make sure her seatbelt was correctly positioned. The back of his hand brushed against the swell of her breast as he adjusted the belt. She wondered if the touch had been accidental but said nothing as Peter revved the engine and dropped the clutch.

The rear wheels spun with the squeal of rubber on tarmac and the car was soon speeding around the old track. The ‘G’ forces made Julie hold tight as Peter flung the BMW around the corners, braking later and later for each corner as he adjusted to the car and the optimum temperature was reached in both tires and brakes. Julie squealed a few times making Peter grin as he deliberately slid the car sideways to wash off speed as he entered the corners. 

After about ten thrilling laps he brought the car to a standstill. “I think I had better stop now Ma’am, the dealer may complain about the tire wear if we continue. Did you enjoy that Ma’am?”

“You can see I loved it Peter, thank you so much.” Julie leaned across and kissed Peter on the cheek. Both of them blushed at the sudden show of affection but said nothing. “Oh I needed some excitement in my life, can we do it again sometime in your car?”

“Of course Ma’am,” Peter replied as he drove from the airfield, stopping again to shut the gate.

They were soon home and Julie walked quickly to her bedroom. Her pussy was sopping from the excitement of the drive home and it did not take long to strip and for her practiced fingers to give relief. Afterwards she lay relaxing on the bed, thinking about Peter and the fast driving, the brush of her breast and the kiss. Julie drifted off to sleep for a while to be awoken by the sound of horses hooves outside her window. She quickly donned a silk robe and went out on the balcony to see what the noise was all about.

Peter, dressed in riding gear with leather boots and crop, was astride her husband’s favorite stallion and having some trouble controlling the beast. Julie’s nipples hardened and her pussy flowed again under the robe as Peter used the crop on the horse’s flank. The horse reared trying to dislodge Peter but he retained his seat on the saddle as he gradually brought the stallion under control. 

The bucking ceased when the horse finally realized he could not win and Peter looked up at Julie on the balcony. “It’s alright Ma’am, he has a lot of spirit but I know handle anyone like that.” 

With that Peter saluted Julie with the crop and set the horse off up the driveway at a gallop. Julie shivered and walked unsteadily back into her room. As she lay on the bed again with her vibrator humming between her legs images of the crop rising and falling flooded her mind. She could hear the crack of the leather tip on the horse’s flank and a huge orgasm swept through her lovely body. Later she drifted off into a restless sleep, dreaming of herself nude, Peter and the crop.

Julie was woken by a knock on her bedroom door from the maid, Amy.

“Scuse me Ma’am, dinner will be ready in thirty minutes, will you be down?”

“Oh yes Amy, thank you, I will be down in a few minutes.”

Julie had a quick shower and dressed in tight jeans, a see-through blouse with a white lace bra and a red thong splitting the crack between her lovely buttocks. After dinner Amy left for her regular visit to her nearby parents and Julie was left alone in the large house. She tried to watch television for a while but could not concentrate. Even the familiar BDSM sites on her computer failed to keep her interest.

Without making a conscious decision Julie found herself walking from her home to the stables where lights still shone brightly. As she walked into the stables Peter walked towards her, still dressed in his riding gear, slapping the crop against his leather boots.

“Evening Peter, is everything all right?” Julie asked.

“Yes thank you Ma’am, the horses have settled well, unlike yourself if I may say so.”

“W, what do you mean?” Julie stuttered.

“You know what I mean Julie,” Peter said as he grabbed her left arm and guided her strongly toward the equipment room. “The fast drive in the car and my use of the crop on the stallion really made you excited and wet didn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Julie spluttered, “Take your hands off me now!”

“Just do as I say Julie and you’ll be all right, it’s time the stuck up brat was brought down a peg or two.”

Peter guided Julie into the room full of saddles, reins, riding boots, whips, rope and all the equipment needed for a busy stable. A freshly polished saddle gleaming in the bright light sat on a timber frame. Peter pulled Julie over to the saddle and pushed her face down near the freshly polished leather.

“Smell the leather Julie, breath in deep, you love it don’t you?” Peter said forcefully. “I’ve watched you in the Rolls, leather turns you on doesn’t it?”

“No, no, I don’t know what you mean,” Julie cried, not willing to admit that she was indeed very turned by the current situation. “Let me go right now or I’ll scream.”

“Nobody will hear you Julie, Amy has gone until tomorrow and Richard is thousands of miles away.” Peter pushed Julie’s head down so her nose was right on the saddle. “Breathe it in brat, you know you love it.”

Despite her protestations Julie found the smell of the saddle having its usual effect and being forced by Peter was making her vulnerable and bewildered. She knew her pussy was flooding and that her nipples were rock hard.

“Let me go Peter and I won’t tell Richard when he gets home. You harm me and you’ll never have a job like this again.”

Peter laughed and pushed Julie right down over the saddle so that her arse was high in the air. His strength made it easy to hold her in position with his left hand while his right hand held and raised the crop.

‘Whack’ - the crop landed across Julie’s tight jeaned bottom.

“Owwwwww” Julie cried in shock at the sudden pain.

‘Whack, whack, whack!’ - Peter continued to land the crop across Julie’s lovely arse, ignoring her cries and struggles.

After ten strokes an amazing change took place. Julie stopped struggling and collapsed over the saddle, making no attempt to stop or resist the beating. She was moaning constantly but it was the sound of a very turned on woman, not that of someone in distress. Peter gave Julie a few more strokes with the crop then pulled her to her feet to face him. Julie’s eyes were shining and her hard nipples pressed against the thin material of her blouse. She stood there making no attempt to escape, her breasts rising and falling with excitement.

“You love it don’t you brat?” Peter said confidently. “Just do as I tell you and you will be taken back to the house later.”

Julie amazed herself by nodding her head and remaining silent. She thought to herself that it’s like I’m daring him to continue and marveled at her own courage.

“Put your hands out together straight in front of you,” Peter ordered as he took some leather harness from a hook on the wall.

Julie held out her hands as instructed, thrilled at being ordered and controlled by this strong man. Peter wrapped the harness around her wrists, securing them together, then threw a length of rope over a beam and looped it through the harness around her wrists. Peter pulled the rope and raised Julie’s hands above her head; she was now secure and unable to run.

Peter stood in front of Julie and smiled, “See I know what you need brat, and judging from the lack of resistance you don’t mind too much either.”

“What are you going to do now?” Julie asked, her uncertainty showing in her shaking voice.

Peter’s answer was to grip the front of her blouse in both hands and rip it off. The buttons flew as he tore the material and threw the remains on the floor. Next his hands went to the buckle of her belt which he unclipped and slipped from the loops in her jeans. Julie’s panting increased as Peter undid the button and the zip, and soon the jeans were around her ankles. He reached down, took them off and threw them aside. A flick knife suddenly appeared in his hand and with quick movements Julie’s flimsy bra and her thong were also lying on the dirty floor.

Peter held the flick knife up in front of Julie’s face and shook his head from side to side at her distressed expression. He folded the knife and slipped it back in his pocket before running a hand over her pussy. 

He held up the moisture-streaked hand for Julie to see and smiled, “See I was right, you love it don’t you? Now let’s see how you like the crop on bare skin.”

Peter moved behind Julie noting that she made no verbal effort to stop him. He took a black cloth from his pocket and secured it over Julie’s eyes.

“No, please, no blindfold Peter!” Julie pleaded, then, “Owwwwwww!” as the crop bit into her smooth white buttocks.

‘Whack, whack, whack!” Peter was very accurate with the crop and criss-crossed red lines appeared across the curves of her arse.

Julie was crying out at each blow that stung a lot more on her bare skin compared to the first whacks over her jeans. Her legs were kicking and her body twisting as Peter continued to rain blows of the crop on her rapidly reddening cheeks. 

To her amazement Julie felt the onset of an orgasm and cried out, “Oh God! I’m going to cum!”

Peter immediately stopped swatting Julie and ordered, “Do not orgasm Julie, wait until I give permission.”

“I can’t, I can’t!” Julie screamed.

“Yes you can Julie,” Peter said as he stroked her back soothingly, “You will not orgasm until I say so! Six strokes and you may climax on the last one, understand?”

Julie nodded her head as she moaned loudly.

‘Crack’ - “Ahhhhhhh”

‘Crack’ - “Oh God!”

‘Crack’ - “Shiiiiiittttttt”

‘Crack’ - “Urrrrgggghhhhh”

‘Crack!!’ - “Yes! Yes!”

‘CRACK’ - “Aiiiiieeeeeeee”

On the completion of the sixth stroke Julie screamed, her back arched and her body shook violently as the long awaited orgasm swept through her perspiring body. Peter wrapped his arms around Julie and hugged her tight. Her body continued to shake and shiver for some time as some stresses of the past were released.

When Julie has calmed a little Peter knelt down behind her and grasped her ankles, spreading her legs wider apart.

“Please Peter, take the blindfold off, I want to, arrrrrggghhh! Julie screamed in shock, “Who is that?”

Julie’s exclamation came as a second pair of hands suddenly touched her breasts, fondling, squeezing, stroking and pinching the nipples. She gasped again as the stranger’s lips touched her right breast, sucking, biting and pulling the nipple away from her chest. Another scream as the assailant’s mouth opened wide, cramming as much as possible of Julie’s breast between the teeth and then biting hard into the soft flesh. Julie tried to kick her legs but Peter’s grip was too strong as her left breast was subjected to the same biting treatment.

Julie gasped as she felt the tongue licking lower, slowly down over her tummy towards her wet pussy. Practiced fingers spread Julie’s hairy labia apart and the tongue licked and teased her hard clitoris. Julie’s back arched as the unknown person ate her cunt and she screamed again as a finger pressed against and then entered her arsehole. The excitement of the whipping combined with the oral assault of her pussy soon had Julie screaming again as another orgasm swept through her body. The lady of the manor’s legs refused to support her anymore and only the ropes to her wrist straps stopping her from collapsing on the floor. Peter quickly lifted Julie in his arms while the other person untied the rope and released the straps from her wrists.

Julie’s glowing and marked body was still shaking as Peter held her in his arms and carried her from the stables to the manor house. The long staircase did not slow his powerful legs and soon Julie was being laid on her bed. Peter took the blindfold from her eyes and pulled the covers over Julie’s still panting body. Without a word he left the room and Julie soon slipped into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Julie was surprised to see the clock showing 9.25am when she awoke. For a moment she wondered if last night had just been a dream. Then she looked at her breasts and saw the teeth marks and knew it was real. Julie rubbed her still sore marked buttocks and her mind spun as she recalled the events. The sting of the crop had been an amazing turn on and the orgasms the most powerful she had ever experienced. But what would happen now? How could she face Peter again and who was the other person who had tongued her so well? Would Richard find out? Confusion and a feeling of helplessness were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Ma’am, are you awake yet?” It was Amy the maid with a breakfast tray.

“Oh yes Amy, come in, I didn’t realize it was so late.” Julie made sure the sheets covered the marks on her breasts.

“Are you all right Ma’am? You seem to be a bit flushed.” Amy inquired innocently.

“Umm, yes thank you Amy, I just didn’t sleep well last night, I think I had a nightmare.”

“As long as you are well Ma’am, I’ll come back for the tray in thirty minutes and draw your bath.” Amy curtsied and left the bedroom.

Julie ate the breakfast and laid back on the bed again, her mind still troubled by the events of last night. Thinking about the way the stranger’s tongue made her pussy very wet again, who could that have been?

A knock on the door and Amy entered again; lifting the tray from the bed and placing it on a table near the door. To Julie’s surprise and annoyance Amy walked back to bed and stood beside it looking down at her employer. 

“Did you enjoy your breakfast? She asked, “Did you like the taste?” Without warning Amy suddenly reached down and pulled the covers completely off Julie who tried in vain to cover the marks on her nude body. 

Amy sat down on the side of the bed and continued, “I certainly loved the taste of your cunt last night Julie and you sure loved being whipped by Peter didn’t you?

Julie lay there, her mouth open and her mind whirling. This was getting too much for her to comprehend. Her eyes widened as Amy took some silken cord from her apron pocket.

“Spread your arms and legs out wide Julie, NOW!” Amy ordered.

“What? You must be joking Amy!” The tremor in Julie’s voice showed the shock she was feeling. “Why should I?”

“Why Julie? Because deep down you want to, like in those bondage web sites you keep looking at. We know all about you Julie and we are going to give you the control you need so desperately. Last night was just the start, I bet you are very wet right now, right?”




The Chauffeur & the Lady



Julie nodded, she was very wet and all that Amy said was true. As if in a dream Julie spread her arms and legs apart in obedience to the maid. Amy smiled and tied the silk cords to Julie’s wrists and ankles with the ends being attached to the corner posts of the large bed.

Amy licked her lips as she gazed on Julie’s body then quickly slipped out of the clothes she was wearing, unstrapping a crop from her left leg. Boldly she climbed on the bed and knelt beside Julie, her finger tips gliding over the contours of her captive. Amy’s fingers played with Julie’s breasts and pinched the hard nipples, causing long moans of lust. Slowly the fingers moved lower until they were pulling the thick mound of pussy hair.

“Mmmm I think this will have to go,” Amy mused, “Definitely a candidate for shaving, don’t you think Julie?”

“Don’t you dare Amy!!!!” Julie was shocked by the suggestion.

“A dare, oh I love dares!” Amy said gleefully, leaping off the bed and heading for the bathroom. It wasn’t long before she reappeared with scissors, shaving gear and towels.

“Please Amy, no don’t shave me,” Julie pleaded as Amy clipped away with the scissors. "“I'll give you a raise, money, anything you want.”

“Ah the rich bitch is back,” Amy said, almost snarling. “You can’t buy me or Peter sweetie, so just relax and keep still, I don’t want to nick you with the razor.”

Julie accepted her fate and it was not long before Amy’s skill with the scissors and shaving gear resulted in a smooth and hairless pussy. 

Amy ran her hand over Julie’s labia, “Oh yes that’s much better, smooth as a baby’s bum as the saying goes. I’m looking forward to keeping it like that every day too Ma’am, as part of my duties.”

“Oh, what will Richard say?” Julie said in a fearful tone.

“Don’t worry love, I bet he will like it, might even get his dick up for a change,” Amy laughed loudly at her own words.

Julie moaned in apprehension as she watched Amy pick up the crop. Amy ‘whooshed’ it through the air a few times for effect, the sound causing Julie to shudder. But Amy was not a sadist; she knew how to use the crop to excite and thrill. She held the leather tip a few inches from Julie’s skin and gave small stinging flicks. The crop moved up and down the soft flesh on the inside of Julie’s thighs and around her breasts. When the tip flicked her hard nipples Julie screamed before her body shook with small orgasms. Julie was pulling against the ties that held her on the bed and her breasts were heaving as she fought for breath. Never in her life had she experienced anything like the amazing sensations flowing non-stop through her body. Her eyes widened as she saw Amy holding the tip of the crop over her newly shaved pussy.

“NO AMY!” she shouted, then “AAAIIIIEEEEE” as Amy flicked her pussy lips five times in quick succession. Orgasm after orgasm swept through Julie’s shuddering body as she thrashed within the confines of the silk cords. Finally she collapsed down on the damp sheets, her lungs noisily drawing in much needed air and her body glowing with perspiration.

Amy wiped Julie down with a soft towel then released her ankles and wrists. She gave her Ma’am a hug, kissed her full on the lips then rose from the bed, grabbed her clothes and went to the bathroom. Julie heard the sound of water running into the bathtub and soon Amy returned, fully dressed and ready to return to her duties as the maid. She collected the breakfast tray and left Julie alone with her thoughts.

The rest of the day seemed outwardly like any other in the large manor house. Amy went about her duties as if nothing unusual had taken place last night or that morning. Julie spent much of the day sitting outside on the patio in the sunshine, thinking and worrying, wondering what would happen next? What would happen when her husband returned home? Should she telephone him now and if she did would he believe her? The memories of Peter and Amy using her body flooded her mind, but she knew this was real and not a dream.

Amy interrupted Julie’s thoughts, “Excuse me Ma’am, dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. Please go and change now into your silk robe, nothing else. After dinner I will be taking you to see Peter again in the stables. And Julie, no speaking after dinner commences.”

“Oh yes Amy, I will be ready,” Julie was amazed at her submissive reply to Amy’s instructions. As she walked up the long staircase she was aware of her hard nipples and wet vagina and a shudder of fear and excitement shook her body.

The churning in her stomach diminished Julie’s appetite and she ate little. She sat waiting as Amy silently cleared away the dinner dishes, the waiting increasing her tension. Finally Amy returned from the kitchen, a collar and lead in her hands. Julie sat demurely as Amy fastened the collar around her neck and then followed like a puppy as Amy led her back to the stables.

The smell of the equipment room once again thrilled Julie as Amy led her to stand again in front of the highly polished saddle. Julie made no protest as Amy slipped the robe from her shoulders and once again she stood nude, awaiting her fate. A little voice inside Julie’s head was saying ‘run Julie, run back to the house’ but she stayed still, standing at attention, amazed at her own obedience.

Amy pushed Julie forward and over the saddle so that her arse was once again on full display in the bright lights. Amy knelt and strapped Julie’s ankles to the legs of the timber frame that supported the saddle. Julie moaned as Amy moved around near her head and strapped her arms to the timber supports on the other side. Julie could see the floor behind her and watched Amy’s legs as they turned and walked out of the room. The suspense built as the minutes passed until finally Julie heard the sound of boots on the stable floor. She saw the boots walk into the room, the inevitable crop slapping impatiently against the shining leather. As Julie braced herself for the first blow she realized that she was looking forward to the sting of the crop. 

‘Come on you bastard,’ she thought to herself, ‘Give it to me, I want it now.’

‘Crack’ - “Ahhhhhhhhh, yesssss” This time the expression was of acceptance, not of disapproval.

‘Crack, crack, crack,’ the crop rose and fell, the pain thrilling Julie as the heat flowed through her loins and all of her body. She screamed at each hard stroke, the immediate pain turning quickly to amazing feelings of pleasure as she floated in that wonderful place called sub-space. 

After eighteen strokes the whipping suddenly stopped and Julie crashed back to reality as she lay panting heavily across the saddle. As she watched the leather boots stood immediately behind her. She sobbed as firm fingers roughly felt her burning flesh and then probed between her legs, exploring her sopping slit. Julie’s eyes opened wide as the trousers behind her suddenly dropped down onto the boots and a hard cock pushed its way between her legs.

“NO PETER!” she screamed as the cock pushed its way roughly into the depths of her cunt. There was no reply as the cock began to fuck her hard and strong with long strokes. Soon any hatred of being fucked by her chauffeur was blown away by Julie’s need for some hard sex. His balls slapped her shaven skin as each time he thumped his cock into the very hilt. Both were moaning with lust as their orgasms approached and it wasn’t long before he was pumping his sperm into her depths. Julie screamed loudly as she orgasmed, her body pulling against the straps and then collapsing over the saddle.

Perspiration was running into her eyes and she closed them as she felt the straps being released from her arms and ankles. Strong arms helped her from the saddle and laid her down on a rough blanket on the floor. She was held in a firm hug as her still shaking body slowly calmed down and she regained her breath.

The sound of familiar laughter caused Julie to open her eyes and look at the man holding her.

“RICHARD! Oh my God! Oh darling, what’s happening? What are you doing here, oh shit, I don’t know what to say. That was you fucking me………” Julie’s voice faded and she lay looking at Richard, shaking her head, unable to comprehend what was happening.

Richard smiled down at Julie and stroked the hair back from her face. “My darling, everything is all right, believe me.” Richard paused then called loudly, “OK you two, come in here please.”

Julie’s eyes nearly popped from her head as Peter strode into the room leading Amy by a collar and lead.

Richard spoke, “Julie my darling these two people are not Peter and Amy. I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine, Matthew and his slave and student Domme, Melissa.”

Julie found her voice at last, “What the fuck is going on here?”

Richard continued, “Let me explain my sweet. A few months ago you fell asleep at your computer and I saw the sites you were looking at. I crept out, slammed a door to wake you and said nothing. When you went to stay with your parents for that week I checked out the history in the computer and the emails you had sent to overseas friends. I realised that you had a need that I could not fulfill at that time. A few weeks later when you thought I was at the golf championships I actually spent the weekend with Matt and Melissa, learning the ropes of BDSM as best I could.”

“I don’t believe this, it’s like a corny Hollywood movie.” Julie smiled as she began to comprehend what had happened.

“So darling, I hatched this plan with Matt and you know the rest. From now on I will be satisfying all your needs, oh, and our old staff, David and Sarah will be back next week from their long service leave. Matt and Melissa will be returning to their own home.”

“You bastards,” Julie said looking at Matt and Melissa as she struggled to her feet. “You were fucking brilliant. Amazing. God I could do with a drink, let’s go in the house.”

Julie walked the couple of paces to Matt and took the lead from his hands, “Come on Amy, Melissa I mean, I want to have a talk to you.”

The four left the stables and walked across to the manor house where Melissa had pre-prepared a delicious supper. They talked and drank until the early hours when they staggered off to their respective rooms.

As they lay in bed Julie hugged Richard closely, “Thank you darling, I’m still coming to terms with what happened to me but I do know I feel absolutely wonderful. I love you so much you special man, goodnight.”

THE END



The Chauffeur



He reached down and gathered her shoes. He placed them back on her feet as if she were some sexual Cinderella. He grasped her hands and pulled her body up to meet him. He impatiently removed her jacket and bra. He wanted to feel her against his chest but he also wanted her to see how hard she had made him. He undid his pants and let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them along with his shoes and socks. They both looked down at the drop of cum that was forming again on the head of Nick's cock.  

Nick took his length in his hand. He pulled the skin down over the head a few times, massaging himself while she watched. He then took his cock and slowly ran it up and down her slippery sex. He watched as his head separated her lips and as he pulled back, a string of her wetness clung to him and spanned between them. He picked her legs up again and wrapped them around his waist. She knew what he wanted her to do. She crossed her legs behind him and dug her heels into the sensitive flesh on his lower back, pulling him into her in one full thrust. She gasped and then let out a long moan as she fell against him. She circled her arms around his neck and held onto him as he steadied himself. He knew from having his fingers inside of her before that she was tight but he had no way of knowing just how incredible she was going to feel wrapped around his hardness. He waited as the urge to come had started to dissipate. He gripped the edges of the counter and began moving inside her slowly. Every time he pulled back, her heels dug into him and goaded him on to thrust back into her. Pain when he pulled back, pleasure when he pushed forward. This was driving him mad. He lost all composure as he started slamming into her, feeling the familiar tingle begin in his balls and spread outward to his thighs. Just as he felt he was wound tighter than he could possibly go, he rammed forward one more time, letting go with a shout and throwing his head back as he came with a force he had never felt before. He all but collapsed onto Anastasia. The sweat from his forehead sticking her hair to his as he leaned his head against hers. When he regained his breath, he began showering her with small kisses on her face. He took her face in his hands and looked deep into her eyes. 

"Thank you, Anastasia. No one has ever allowed me to fulfill that fantasy before. No one ever understood how erotic it was for me. But you did. You gorgeous, wonderful woman.....you did."

Anastasia smiled at Nick and kissed him lovingly. "I knew by the way you were looking at my legs on the way home that it had some sort of connection for you. I'm glad I was able to be a part of your fantasy."

"It's more than that, Anastasia," Nick murmured against her skin as he kissed her face. "I know this seems like some sort of 'one night stand - get off and never call you - affair' but it's more than that. It's been a long time since I've felt so drawn in by someone and so connected to them. Will you stay here with me tonight?"

Anastasia didn't know how to react at first. This she had not expected. She had to admit that she knew who he was and had even thought he was incredibly attractive the time that her best girlfriend had dragged her to a Duran Duran concert. Celebrity didn't hold any fascination for her though as she saw and met people in the public eye everyday. So she knew the feelings she was having for him were genuine and thought that it was worth giving it a shot.

"Yes, Nick, I will stay with you," she said as she nodded, biting one corner of her bottom lip. This acceptance coupled with the visual of her biting her lip caused Nick to stir again. Anastasia noticed this and gave him her best naughty look.

Nick needed no further encouragement. He picked her up and as she wrapped her legs around his hips again, he carried her to the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed. He laid down on top of her, letting his weight settle on her. He buried his hand in her hair and pulled her to him. He kissed her with a depth of passion that can only be felt by already knowing how wonderful a lover someone is. Anastasia ran her fingers through Nick's hair as well and pushed against him. His leg was resting between her thighs and she took full advantage of this by grinding her dripping pussy against his leg, leaving a sticky trail. Nick pressed back into her moving his cock against her hip. He rolled onto his back, bringing Anastasia with him. She straddled him, rubbing her wet slit all over his hard cock as she kissed him hungrily. She sat back between his legs, bringing her feet up to rest on either side of his chest. He reached down to finally remove her shoes. 

"Don't you want me to leave them on for you," she asked.

"No. I don't want you to think that's all it's about for me. I want to make love to you....not your shoes, love.'

Anastasia let Nick remove her shoes. She put her hands behind her, resting them on Nick's legs. She leveraged herself using her legs and arched her hips forward. Nick took his cue from her and placed his cock at her entrance. She rolled her hips and impaled herself on him. She felt him stretching her wide again and the delicious pain left over from their earlier coupling. Nick reached behind himself and grabbed the headboard as he pumped up into her. He marveled at the sight of his cock disappearing inside of her sweet pussy over and over again. He took one hand off the headboard and used it to stimulate Anastasia. He circled his thumb around her clit as she rode him, undulating her hips and creating similar circles around the head of his cock.

"Ah.....bloody Christ," Nick yelled. He had never had a woman work him quite like this. He couldn't believe what he was feeling. It was like he couldn't get enough of her. He delighted in the sensation of her hair brushing over his legs as she rode him with her head thrown back. He could feel her digging her nails into his skin as she used him for leverage so she could work her magic on his cock. All the while, these sensations battled each other in his brain fighting for dominance. He finally couldn't take it anymore. He gripped the satin comforter in his hands. 

"Ana.....Ana....I'm going to come, love," he yelled as he couldn't even get her whole name out.

"Yes! Yes! Come for me Nick. Come on, baby. Come for me," she encouraged.

"Oh....ohhhh....fuuuuuuuuck," Nick screamed as he emptied himself inside her again. He lay there, panting. Anastasia thought she almost saw embarrassment flash on his face.

"What's wrong, Nick?"

"Nothing really," he breathed. "It's just that I'm usually a very quiet lover." Nick half-laughed. "There is something about you that must bring that out in me."

"That's a good thing, isn't it," she purred.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Nick smiled at her.

Nick knew Anastasia hadn't come this time. He didn't last long enough for her to. He had some unfinished business to attend to. He reached for her hand. He gently pulled her off the bed with him. He started walking backwards toward the bathroom, pulling her with him. He turned a knob on the wall and raised the lighting just enough to see what they were doing. Anastasia couldn't believe how amazing the bathroom was. There was a garden bathtub surrounded in beautiful stone on the right. On the left was a shower with frosted doors. One side was open and she could see that there were several shower heads at different levels and angles so no part of your body would be untouched. Ahead, there was a marble countertop with two sinks and mirrors from wall to wall and counter to ceiling. She took this all in as Nick lit several candles around the tub and turned the water on. He picked up a decorative bottle from the edge of the tub and poured a liquid into the bath water that smelled of lavender and sage. He stepped into the bathtub and offered her his hand.

She gingerly stepped into the bath with him. He wrapped his arms around her in such a loving gesture, it made her heart melt. 'Yes,' she thought, "I could get used to this.'

Nick looked into her eyes for a moment before he brought his lips to hers. He tasted her mouth with a slow patience that he had been unable to manage before. He traced her lips with his tongue before pushing his tongue inside her mouth. He slowly devoured her lips, relishing the feeling of her tongue moving back against his. She kissed him with equal passion and care.

He ran his hands up her back, enjoying the feeling of wet skin sliding on wet skin. He briefly turned away to shut the water off. When he turned back around he playfully flicked some water at her. She laughed and gathered up some bubbles in her palm and blew them at him. The dissolved into laughter together as some of the bubbles landed and stayed on the end of Nick's nose. 

As Anastasia lay back in the tub and closed her eyes, Nick took that time to look at her, really look at her, without her eyes on him. He sighed internally at her pure beauty. He loved the sight of a woman fully made up but her makeup had long since been kissed, sweat, and rubbed off. She was still beautiful. He watched as complete relaxation overtook her and all of her features softened. He couldn't resist the urge to touch her. 

He grabbed a bath pouf and squeezed some bath crème onto it. He made his way over to her and began gently running the pouf over her collarbones and chest. Anastasia sighed contentedly and allowed Nick to tend to her this way. She turned so he could wash her back as well. Nick decided to abandon the pouf for just his hands. He moved beneath the water and ran his hands up and down her spine. He slipped his hands around her small waist and pulled her to him, letting his fingers rest on her stomach for a time. He showered her shoulders and the back of her neck with kisses, light enough to have been a feather's touch. He slowly began tracing circles on her stomach with his thumbs. His kisses became firmer and more needy. Anastasia sighed and leaned her head back on Nick's shoulder. She surrendered herself to him again and let him lead her down the road to ecstasy. He moved his hands up to her nipples and lightly pinched them before rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers. He reached out an arm and patted the corner ledge of the tub, silently encouraging her to sit on the ledge. She did so and Nick placed a hand on each knee, gently parting them. He took the bath pouf again and ran it over the top of her mound, squeezing it so the sudsy water could run through her folds. He tossed the pouf back into the water and moved toward her. He pressed his lips to her knee and rained kisses on her all the way up her leg to her thigh. Just before he got to the sweet junction between them, he moved back to start kissing his way up her other leg. This time as he reached her apex, he planted kisses on the outside of her lips. She gasped at the delicious feeling of his mouth on her again. 

Nick took just the tip of his tongue and gently licked at her now puffy lips. She already wanted him inside her again so badly. Nick's cock hardened against his belief that he could manage a third time. He vowed to tend to her needs first foregoing his release as long as it took to satisfy her. He used his fingers to part her lips, granting his tongue access to Anastasia's engorged clit. He flicked his tongue over it rapidly, causing Anastasia to yell out, "Oh, Nick!"

He alternated between licking her in slow circles and flicking his tongue across her. The changes in rhythm and sensation were leading her to a powerful climax. Her breaths were coming in short pants as she brought her hands to tangle in Nick's hair, pulling him further into her. His face was completely buried in her pussy now as she bucked against him, coating his beautiful face with her juices once more. Her legs started to shake as she raced toward her release.

"Oh, Nick, please. Please I need you inside me. Now!"

Nick opted to plunge his fingers into her and stroke the swollen flesh inside. He crooked his fingers and massaged her special spot rapidly.

"Nick! Oh, God! Something feels different......what....is....happening," she all but screamed as she felt something inside her snap like a rubber band. All of a sudden, her pussy sent a jet of cum straight into Nick's mouth. He eagerly swallowed her, knowing exactly what had just happened. Anastasia collapsed back into the corner of the tub, gasping for air. She was still trembling. 

Nick pulled her gently back down into the tub and held onto her. Instead of the shaking subsiding, it increased and quiet sobs overcame her.

"Ssshhhhh. It's okay. What's wrong, love," Nick asked, stroking her wet hair.

"I don't know," she choked. "Nothing like that has ever happened before. I just feel.....I don't know.....I feel.....overwhelmed."

"It's ok, love. Go ahead and let it out. I'm sorry if it was too much."

"No, it's not that. I just felt all of these emotions at once that I'd never felt before coupled with...well....that," Anastasia had only ever heard about other women being able to do that. She had only seen it once in an X-rated movie and thought it was a trick. She didn't know it was really possible to do. 

Anastasia started to come down again and relax. She looked up into Nick's face and saw the absolute and complete look of care on his face. She would have said 'love' but it was far too soon for that. Wasn't it? She leaned up and kissed him with such a reckless abandon that it caught him off guard. He immediately returned her kisses, exploring her mouth again with his tongue. Calming Anastasia down had quelled his erection at the time but now it was returning with a vengeance. She rose up on her knees and took his face in her hands. She alternated between sucking on his top and lower lip, then nibbling lightly at them. He rose to his knees to meet her. His erection was sandwiched between them, pulsing against her stomach. He wanted to be inside her so badly but he knew she must be sore from having had him in her twice already, not to mention just having come so hard just a short time ago. Nick whispered to her, his lips brushing against her ear, "No, Ana, I don't want to hurt you."

Anastasia reached between them and grasped Nick's hardness in her hand, silencing him. She slowly began moving his skin back and forth over the head of his cock, working him past the point of no return. Just when he thought this couldn't possibly feel any better, she lowered her other hand to his balls and massaged them gently. This caused Nick to involuntarily thrust into her hand. 

Anastasia maneuvered around Nick so he was where she had been. She had a smirk on her face as she mimicked his previous action of patting the ledge. Nick pulled himself out of the tub and up onto the ledge. Anastasia knelt between his legs and took him into her mouth in one swift movement. She cradled his balls while she moved her mouth up and down on his cock. She used one hand to pull the rest of skin all the way back so she could swirl her tongue around his head. This all but sent Nick over the edge. 

Anastasia began pumping her hand and mouth at the same time, while swirling her tongue around the head of nick's cock every time she came back down on him. In a matter of seconds, Nick couldn't' hold on any longer.

"Ana.....ohhhh....Ana. Baby, look out. I'm going to...."

Just before Nick could get out the word 'come', Anastasia took all of him in her mouth, all the way down to where his fine, wet hairs were tickling her nose. Nick shot his load of cum straight down her throat and she greedily swallowed all of him, showing him that she wanted every part of him inside her.

Nick leaned down to kiss her, tasting his mild saltiness on her tongue. He held her face while resting his forehead on hers. 

"Shall we get out of here before we both look like prunes," he joked.

Anastasia laughed as she felt around for the drain plug. She pulled it, draining the water. When she turned around to stand, Nick was already waiting for her, holding out a large, fluffy towel for her to step into. He wrapped her in it and stood there holding onto her for a moment before he lead her back to the bedroom. He flipped on the large screen TV and hit 'play' on the DVD player. He had left Fellini's La Dolce Vita in the player from a previous viewing. 

He opened a drawer in his dresser and took out a pair of silk pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. He handed Anastasia the T-shirt to sleep in. He pulled on the bottoms and hopped into bed, waiting for her to join him. She slipped on the T-shirt and climbed in next to Nick. 

"Here, sit between my legs and I'll dry your hair for you," Nick suggested. Anastasia moved to sit between Nick's knees and rested her back against his chest. He took the towel she had used and began fluff drying her hair as the movie started. Shortly, he felt her completely relax against him and he knew she had fallen asleep. He tossed the towel onto a nearby chair and gently rolled them both over so he was spooning her from behind. He felt her sigh as he pushed her hair aside and nestled his face into the back of her neck. 

'And to think,' Nick thought to himself, 'I almost took a cab home.'



The Chauffeuse



This farcical story is totally fictitious—no resemblance is intended to any persons dead or alive, or any organizations for that matter.

The situation regarding the Parthenon Marbles is real, however. I have profound respect for the many individuals working to achieve an agreement on the future of these truly great works of art. Hopefully, someday, the Marbles may see their homeland again. 

In the meantime, my only aim is to amuse and publicize. If you want to know what it's really all about, there are several informative websites, at least one of which is collecting online signatures in support of the restitution of the Parthenon Marbles. If you would like the URL, drop me a line. (Literotica.com does not allow the posting of links.)

Oh, and thanks for reading!

Alexis Haines

*

She was hoping for a few days off, but it didn't look like she could ask right now. Her boss was scowling, fussing with his file drawer, acting businesslike. So the demure young blonde kept quiet and stood attentively.

The windowless office was airless, stuffy as only an old British office building can be. Yet to Humphrey Jackson, when the youngest member of his staff stood before him, there was a cooling ambience in his cramped, square world. She was quite deliciously refreshing. As usual, he found it completely disconcerting.

She watched him trying desperately to avoid her eye. He laid what he had been pretending to look for on his desk's dark, polished surface, stared at it, and then straightened it. And then straightened it again. Then for the fifth time in as many minutes he adjusted his wife's silver picture frame by an eighth of an inch. He touched only the sides, so as not to leave finger marks. Mrs. Jackson taught him that. 

He sighed and got down to business, forcing himself to concentrate on projecting an air of competence and professionalism, something befitting his senior years. He collected his thoughts, pursed his lips, placed his elbows either side of the slim folder, steepled his fingertips and fixed his employee with what he hoped was an avuncular but stern regard. To Samantha Kane, he looked more like a haggard and worn out crow than a kindly uncle.

"He'll be arriving at Heathrow airport from JFK this Friday at 11:35 a.m., GMT. Here's your brief, Miss Kane."

She promptly stepped forward to his desk and took the slim portfolio he handed to her, not even bothering to glance at the familiar vinyl cover with the scratched gold lettering and graphic. They all looked the same: "British Diplomatic Corps, Limousine Service", importantly blocked under the Royal Family crest. She retreated, held the portfolio behind her back, and regarded Humphrey Jackson coolly as he studied her.

Samantha Kane had joined the Diplomatic Corps when she was 21, specifically asking to be considered for the Limousine Service. It wasn't hard to find her a place: she had been educated at one of Britain's top public schools for girls. But instead of pursuing her education at one of the many universities that would have accepted her, she took an apprenticeship with Rolls-Royce Motor Cars. Despite her youthful inexperience, that apprenticeship stood her in excellent stead with the Limousine Service.

She had some additional credentials, too: for example, her mother was a highly respected Member of Parliament. Humphrey Jackson couldn't fathom why Samantha Kane would want to be a chauffeuse, but in the eighteen months she had been with the Service she had lived up to all expectations.

She had a lot going for her; she was well spoken and obviously smart. A little below average height, she nevertheless had a quietly commanding presence that was impressive for her age, exuding calm confidence without a trace of defiance or intolerance. And, although it wasn't supposed to be a factor, she had the kind of curves that made her uniform look a lot sexier than it was: classic navy blue blazer with brass buttons; crisp, white cotton blouse; a short, straight navy skirt; black hose and black 3" patent leather pumps, all topped off with the regulation peaked cap. She didn't wear it quite right, though. A little of a jaunty angle over her bangs and sleek, bobbed blonde hair.

But to Humphrey Jackson, 59 and scrawny, with thin, brown hair and an insipid smile, she was altogether a delightful picture. His eyes grew round and childlike as he took in the tight spread of her skirt over her lovely, spreadable thighs and nice, high, round titties, and her innocent face with plump, pouty lips and big, baby blue eyes that would be so lovely if they were looking up at him from his groin right now... His nether parts were stirring again. He wondered vaguely if she knew. He rather suspected that she might.

He realized he had been silently staring at her breasts for at least a full minute now and that she was still standing quietly with her arms behind her back, perfectly poised. She had a lot of class for a 23-year old, he had to admit. Very cool. And yet there was something inviting about her nice, full breasts; just like the rest of her. They almost seemed to be begging to be squeezed and to be smooshed with your face in them and... He glanced guiltily at Mrs. Jackson's photo and harrumphed back to the matter at hand.

"You'll find full particulars on Dr. Barrie in the brief, Miss Kane. An American gentleman, about my age. We will be relying on your full discretion to do as you see fit, as always."

"Of course, Mr. Jackson."

"Pay particular attention to the notes, if you would. If you have questions or need any further information, Jenny is at your disposal. She has access to the electronic files, of course. I warn you though, they're rather extensive. They go back quite a way, so do please try to be specific if you need my secretary's help."

That sounded odd. "How far back, Sir, if I may ask? Just curious, Sir."

"Ah, just over two hundred years, from around 1800. Any other questions?"

Samantha stared just long enough to confirm her boss wasn't joking. "No, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

"Good. You'll have one of those ghastly stretched Rolls-Royces. Should be ready for you around 8:00 a.m., tomorrow. Check with the garage. And Jenny has Dr. Barrie's name sign made up for you."

It seemed extraordinarily excessive legroom for a one-passenger pickup but Samantha didn't mind. She would have preferred one of the new, super-long Rolls-Royces, the extended wheelbase Phantoms. The Corps hadn't sprung for one of those yet, though. A bit much at around ₤200,000, she supposed.

"So it's one of the stretched Spurs then, is it Sir?" she asked, more nonchalantly than she felt. There were two Rolls-Royce Silver Spur IIs in the Corps' fleet. They were showing their age a bit now, but they were still classy and she hadn't had a chance to try one out yet. Everybody needed a goal in life; this was part of hers.

"Yes, yes; horrible things. But that's what he requested. Well, off you go! Go home and read the brief, Miss Kane."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, and good afternoon, Sir."

He kept his head down as she turned and left. It really would be too much to stare at her buttocks as well. Oh, but what he wouldn't give to bend that tight arse over his desk, some fine day!

Mrs. Jackson didn't look amused.

*******

An early afternoon back at her flat wasn't the few days off she had wanted, but it was something. Samantha quickly changed out of her uniform into an old cropped t-shirt and skimpy panties, brewed a pot of tea, and spread out on her living room floor to read through the brief. Maybe she'd have a long soak in a hot, steamy tub and give herself a trim. 'Business before pleasure', as Mr. Jackson would say. She smiled. She'd deal with him one day. Soon. But first things first. 

The brief was characteristically thorough. Dr. Oliver Barrie, American, in his late 50s, was apparently some kind of ancient artifacts expert. He'd recently spent some time in Greece advising on a new museum. Not good. He sounded bookish and boring, not what she needed at all. Oh well.

The itinerary was straightforward enough. Tomorrow was Friday; she would pick him up at Heathrow at 11:35 a.m., and then bring him back to the Montague Hotel in West Central London. About an hour each way. That was it for tomorrow, unless Dr. Barrie had other plans.

The next day, Saturday, he was chairing some sort of meeting at the hotel. Samantha was familiar with the Monty. It was an upscale hotel just across the street from the British Museum. Although it was styled like an old townhouse, the Montague Hotel was totally wired and had great meeting facilities, all the latest equipment. But it had charm, too; there was a little garden and even a deck. She sighed. He probably wouldn't like it, and she'd have to listen to him complaining every day.

But not on Sunday. She'd have Sunday off, unless something extraordinary happened. Not much in the way of official duties over the weekend.

Monday was different. They'd be taking the Roller out for a run along the M40 motorway to Oxford; fifty-five miles, about an hour and half each way if traffic was good. Dr. Barrie was in a five hour meeting with more museum types, by the look of it. She'd be hanging around all day but that would be alright; Oxford's student population made it an interesting place. Monday could be a good day.

Then on Tuesday he'd be at the British Museum for a while, but that didn't mean much, since the hotel was right there. She'd take him back to Heathrow on Wednesday for a mid-morning flight to New York.

So much for the personality profile and itinerary. She didn't really think he was going to be a good prospect but at least there would be plenty of downtime on this assignment.

What was it all about? The background notes included the usual hints on where to park and stuff, but they weren't exactly typical. In fact, the whole thing was bizarre. One short set of instructions made her sit up:

"Publicity Sensitive Assignment: Avoid the press. Do not discuss the Elgin Marbles or the Parthenon. If required to assist with situations involving Greek nationals, refrain from speaking to them. Maintain professional decorum at all times."

Okay. She needed to know what she was getting into. Right now. She called Jenny.

"Hey, flirt! How's Mr. Jackson's favorite slut? He taken any liberties with you yet?"

"Samantha! When are we gonna do him, love? And who have you done lately, eh?"

Jenny Spencer was longing for the day she could teach her boss some manners. In the meantime, she fully supported her friend's ongoing campaign to seduce a VIP in the back of each of the fleet's vehicles. There were only another five limos to go. She'd crossed 20 of them off the list so far, and Jenny had been in on every one of them.

"Jenn, I swear I'd fuck a doorknob right now! There haven't been any takers at all lately. By the looks of this brief, this isn't up to much either. Shame really; I finally got one of the Spurs. But I've got a freaking uptight professor, for chrissakes! But hey, Jenn, help me out will you? What's the deal with this one? There's some weird shit here. Why can't I mention the Parthenon?"

"Hold on, love. Let me bring up the files... Blimey! This might take a while. Wait a sec... Ok, here we go... The Parthenon is a temple on a hill in Athens called the Acropolis."

"Everybody knows that, dear."

"Private school cunt!"

"Get on with it, slut!"

Jenny giggled. "Did you know it was over 400 years old when Christ was born?"

"Thanks for the history lesson. Look it's famous, so why can't I mention it?"

"Because of what happened in 1799, love. That's when we got to it. The Turks occupied Greece, and Lord Elgin was ambassador to Constantinople. He got permission from the Turks to copy the Parthenon art. Then he got a little carried away. So did half the art. Elgin spread a little bribery around the Turkish officials and next thing you know, sections were pried off, ripped out, sawed up, carted up, and shipped off to Britain."

"Bit of an opportunist."

"Well, duh! He sold the art to the British Museum for a song, eventually. So the collection became known as the "Elgin Marbles". Meanwhile, the Greeks overthrew the Turks and... get this... they've been formally asking for their Parthenon Marbles back since 1829!"

"And so over 175 years later, here comes the intrepid, and American, Dr. Barrie, because...?"

"He's trying to negotiate some sort of deal between the British Museum and the Greek government. UNESCO sent him; they have a committee for this sort of situation. Officially, the British government is trying to be civilized, make nice, show willing, that sort of thing. So there's your pickup, Sam."

"Yeah. A barrel of laughs. A book-bound, self-important, stuffy little classicist on an international junket. Oh well. Maybe the next one, eh, Jenn?"

"You never know, love! Good luck, anyway. Tell me all about it next week, okay?"

*******

He came striding loose-limbed through the double doors into the main area of Heathrow's Terminal 4 like he owned the place. At 6' 2", he was easy to spot: rangy, broad shouldered, balding with bright, silvery blonde hair. But to Samantha's practiced eye there was something else that stood out about Dr. Barrie. It was black and highly noticeable against the faded blue of his jeans. His fly was wide open, and the dark patch of his underpants was bulging gloriously forward.

Dr. Barrie was equally observant. She was only 5' 4", so Samantha had to work a little harder than the other limo drivers to catch her pickup's eye. Her jacket spread like wings and her blouse strained dangerously at the third button as she stood on tiptoe, holding the name sign high above her head. He slowed his pace and strolled nonchalantly towards her, giving them both time to take in the view. His quiet smile had broadened into a grin by the time he reached her. Samantha kept her expression impassive while she wondered how best to approach the delicate subject of her pickup's fly.

"Hello. I'm Dr. Barrie. Would you do me a favor?"

"Samantha Kane. At your service, Sir."

"Goody! Would you hold that sign up again? Or just give me the sign and hold your arms up. It really looked very nice. And call me Oliver."

"I'm sorry?"

"Oliver. What's the hard part? That's my name."

"No, the sign Sir, ah, Oliver, um, Sir??"

"Never mind."

"Okay. Ah, Sir?"

"Oliver. What?"

"You're a little undressed, Sir."

"I am? I should have worn a tie? You're not wearing one! Why aren't you, anyway? Guy chauffeurs wear them. And I like them on a girl."

"No, Sir. Ties are not necessary for our..."

"Oliver, dammit!"

"Sorry, Sir. Oliver. As I was saying..."

"But even if they're not necessary, they are useful, don't you think?"

"What?"

"Well, I can think of lots of things to do with ties, besides wearing them. What's your name, again?"

"Samantha Kane, S... You can call me Ms. Kane."

"Oooo! I like it! Samantha. Okay, where to now, Samantha?"

"Sir, Oliver... before we go..."

"Come on, Sammie! I don't have all day... Street's this way, right?"

He strode off towards the exit. Samantha stood and considered the situation a full ten seconds, by which time he had deftly threaded his way past several small groups and a small, lone, ambling child, and almost reached the automatic doors to the street.

"OLIVER, YOUR FREAKING FLY'S OPEN!!"

Samantha had learnt to project her voice over the sound of engines and machinery during her apprenticeship with Rolls-Royce, a trick that had proved effective in many prior situations. It worked well in the current situation, too. Dr. Barrie stopped dead in his tracks, looked down, and then slowly turned to face her across the hall. There was unabashed delight on his boyish face. There was also an unmistakable twinkle in his gray-blue eyes, discernable even at that distance. It had turned into a devilish gleam by the time Samantha caught up to him.

"You did say 'at your service', did you not?"

"Yes, Oliver. I did."

"I've got my hands full, dear. Be a sweetheart, would you? Do the honors."

"Give me the bags, Oliver, and then you can zip it up yourself. I'm not touching it."

"Oh go on. Please?"

"No."

"No, Sir."

"Fuck you. Oliver. Sir."

"Whoohoo! God, I like you. But it's against my religion to make a girl carry my bags."

"In that case, may I suggest you place your bags on the floor, dress yourself, and then retrieve the bags? After which you may wish to follow me. I'd be happy to get you out of here and on your way. Oliver. Sir."

"Would you really? That's so sweet of you. But Sammie, what if I don't want to put my bags on the floor? Somebody might run off with them. That happened to me in Athens once, you know. Some shit stole a very valuable, very ancient arybollos from me that way. Of course, I shouldn't have had it to begin with but that's beside the point, don't you think?"

His wide-eyed perplexity on the matter was stunning. Samantha took in her pickup's mild, smiling face, the battered brown tweed jacket hanging on his broad shoulders, his denim shirt, long-legged blue jeans, thin beige dress socks, black leather Oxford brogues and prominently bulging black cotton underpants, and decided he was madder than a March hare.

"This is Heathrow, Dr. Barrie; Terminal 4's security is among the best in the world. However I think the matter would be most easily settled in the limousine. Let's get your bags safely stowed, and then you can make yourself comfortable on the way to your hotel. How does that sound?"

"You're such a sensible young woman, Sammie. Lead on!"

And so Samantha Kane's pickup gleefully strode behind her out of Terminal 4, with his fly spread proudly to the street.

The royal blue, eight-cylinder Rolls Royce Silver Spur II Touring Limousine was one of the fleet's older automobiles so, obviously, 'making nice' to UNESCO was not a high priority for the Diplomatic Corps. But Dr. Barrie didn't seem disappointed. After helping him deposit his bags in the luggage compartment, Samantha held a rear door open for him and watched impassively as he literally dived in, with yet another jubilant, "Whoohoo!"

The extended wheelbase made the limo over 17 feet in length, most of which was devoted to the passenger cabin. Rolls-Royce traditional in every respect, the seats were not arranged down the side of the body as in most modern stretched limos. Two wide, dark blue leather 'lounge' seats faced each other across the ample seven-foot width, which Dr. Barrie immediately took the measure of as he landed full length, face down. He had about four inches to spare above his head. The seat facing the back of the car was shortened to accommodate the corner entertainment unit, which was the next focus of Dr. Barrie's evaluation. He played with the TV remote and the CD jukebox controls simultaneously as Samantha positioned herself in the driver's seat, flipped a switch, and spoke to him through the intercom. On her side of the glass divider panel, it sounded like the Tower of Babel had moved in back.

"Dr. Barrie?"

"Hi, Gorgeous!"

"Are you comfortable?"

"Oh yeah."

"Then would you buckle up, um, Oliver, please?"

"No way."

"Sir, it is the law here that rear passengers should wear a seat belt where provided. It is for your safety, Sir, as well as being a legal requirement."

"Sammie, I'm from Texas. We don't care about the law here. Hell, we don't much care about the law there. And this is the Diplomatic Corp, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Oliver."

"Yes, Oliver."

"So that gives me diplomatic immunity, right?"

"Well, technically..."

"Good. Get moving. I'm gonna play some CDs and stuff. Oh, but before we get going, Sammie?"

"Yes, Oliver?"

"My fly's still open. Wanna see? Huh? Wanna?"




The Chauffeuse



"No, Oliver." She was surprised at the speed of her reaction, and a little puzzled. She wouldn't usually pass up an opportunity like this. In fact, she would normally have been in the pickup's lap by now. But not with this one. Something about Dr. Barrie made her nervous.

"Well okay, but you're missing a damn good opportunity. In that case, what say you put up the privacy blind over that little glass divider there?"

"My pleasure, Oliver."

"Well it would be, darlin', if you weren't so heartless."

"Yes, Oliver."

*******

The drive into West Central London was smooth and uneventful. An hour later, Samantha pulled the limo up to the door of 15 Montague Street. She popped the luggage compartment, nodded to Montague House's doorman, and opened the door for Dr. Barrie, who was stretched out and fast asleep; which Samantha found quite remarkable really, considering Notre Dame's massive organ on the Saint-Saens' Symphony No. 3 CD was blasting through all ten surround speakers. 

"DR. BARRIE?"

The doorman's left eyebrow raised a notch.

"DR. BARRIE!!"

The doorman sauntered over as the bellhop pulled the bags up the steps. Passersby cast disapproving looks at the wheeled boom box; the audio system sent the organ's wild chords pumping powerfully and exuberantly out into the street. Booming timpani and crashing cymbals intermittently punched the air like thunderclaps.

"DR. BARRIE!!!"

"I don't think he can hear you, love."

"WHAT?"

"I SAID, I DON'T THINK HE CAN..."

Samantha reached for the CD controls and smacked every button until merciful silence finally filled the limousine.

"Crikey, he's tired! Or dead. He's not dead, is he?"

"If he's not, he will be."

Dr. Barrie let out a soft snore, mumbled to himself, and turned his back on the world.

The uniformed, veteran doorman filled his chest with air, the better to give the young woman the wisdom of his years: "Now, I know service is hard. I should know; I've been in it all my life. But take it from me: if you want to do well in service, and it can be a good life mind you, you've got to have the milk of human kindness in you. It's all about helping folks along, see Miss? You gotta overlook the little things. Now then, let's get this nice gentleman up into the hotel, shall we?"

Some deep survival instinct told Samantha to step back and let the doorman handle the Mad Hatter.

The 'nice gentleman' chortled in his sleep when the doorman shook him by the shoulder.

"Sir?"

The 'nice gentleman' smacked the doorman's hand away when he shook him again.

"Sir? Welcome to Montague House, Sir! Up's-a-daisy now. Easy does it."

When the proponent of the milk of human kindness tried to physically lift him, the 'nice gentleman' whirled around and smacked his fist into the doorman's eye.

"OW! Bloody hell, Mister! What was that for?!"

"Oops. Erm, Sammie??"

Samantha pushed past the blindly staggering doorman.

"Hello, Oliver. That was the hotel doorman. You were asleep, and he was trying to get you out of the limo."

"Yikes! Did I hurt him?"

"Yes, Oliver. You did."

"Well, I am a Texan, you know..."

"He says he's a Texan," Samantha told the doorman, by way of explanation.

"'Ee's a fucking-dead-Yank bastard!"

"...But I'm not violent by nature, Sammie, really I'm not," Dr. Barrie added, piteously.

"I think you might need to be from now on, at least where the doorman's concerned. Would you like to register at the hotel now?"

"Sure. Where's the doorman?"

"He's sitting on the hotel steps."

"Oh. Well, I'll make it up to him. You go inside and wait for me at the reception desk."

"Why?"

"You're coming up to my room, aren't you?"

"What for?"

"I might have messages. Places to go. Things to do."

"Oliver, I'm your chauffeuse, not your secretary. 'Places to go' I can handle, but you have to call me if you need me. I don't go up to rooms. I'll give you my number: the phone is right here, and I'll be there whenever you call."

"Nope. I'm not leaving this spot until you tell me you'll come up to my room."

"Do you want to bed down here for the night? I'm sure the hotel could arrange some food and blankets."

"You're a tough little bitch, aren't you?"

"You betcha. Get out, Oliver."

"No."

"Oh dammit; please, Oliver? I'm not going anywhere. I'll just park around the corner. If you need me, I'll be waiting."

"You'll disappear. And you won't come back, I know it."

"I don't abandon my passengers; I'm a professional."

"That's what the last one said. Never saw her again."

"Your last chauffeuse ditched you?"

Dr. Barrie nodded solemnly. "Abandoned me in the middle of fucking Odessa."

"In the Ukraine?! Wow!"

"Well, actually the place was Athens. Odessa is a city in the Ukraine and it's also, um, a Greek female name. I was in the middle of..."

"...fucking Odessa. Yes, I see."

"So you're coming upstairs, right?"

Samantha sighed. "Okay."

"Goody! After you."

Samantha was prepared for the worst once they were in Dr. Barrie's suite, but to her surprise he treated her respectfully and considerately. He ordered a pot of tea for her and coffee for him, and a selection of sandwiches because, he observed, she'd not yet had any lunch.

The split-level suite's bedroom was on the lower floor; upstairs was a fair-sized lounge which included a writing desk, on which Dr. Barrie quickly set up his laptop.

"Don't mind me, Sammie. You go ahead and eat. Put the TV on, make yourself at home. I'm logging on, picking up messages and stuff. If there's nothing happening you can still hang out, if you'd like. There's worse places to be, right? Or do you have someone to get home to?"

"No, nobody. I'm the independent sort."

"Somebody's gotta be trying to tie you down, Sammie. Body like that? Sure thing."

From the couch, Samantha could see images flashing on the laptop screen, and hear keys tapping, and an occasional chuckle coming from where he sat at the desk. She pried open a few of the sandwiches, spread a napkin on her lap and took one in hand. A roast ham with rocquette lettuce, tomato, and brie, on multi-grain bread. It was very good.

"Thanks for the compliment! Yeah, there's a couple trying. I like my life the way it is, though."

He was quiet a few moments, the quick tapping giving way to contemplation of data scrolling on the laptop's screen. She glanced over at the sudden quiet. He was downloading some sort of report, it seemed. After a moment, he picked up the conversation again.

"But what do you do for entertainment, love? You're too young and way too pretty to be celibate like little old me."

"Who said I was celibate?"

"Oh, so you're not? What's your boyfriend's name?"

"Never you mind."

"Okay; I'm probably outclassed anyway. Some great looking young guy with prospects and a disgustingly healthy body. I'm an old, self-indulgent has-been. But I do have oodles of staying power. Wanna try me?"

"I don't mix business with pleasure, Dr. Barrie."

"Really? That's not what it says here."

Samantha froze in mid-bite.

"What, exactly, do you mean?"

He swung his chair around to face her with a quiet smile. It was a long moment, and he filled it with a steady, full appraisal of her worried face.

"Oh, nothing. On a completely different topic, I wonder if you could do me a favor?"

"Don't tell me 'nothing'! What did you mean by that? And what do you want, anyway?"

"Well you don't have to sound so suspicious, Sammie. I wouldn't ask anything of you, you know, except it's so very, very important. And besides, I think you'd like it; it would be fun! But first, let me explain a little about why I'm here..."

Samantha finished the sandwich, gulped down the rest of her tea, folded her napkin and stood up.

"Dr. Barrie, I'm just your chauffeuse. And I've probably broken every rule in the book just by sitting here right now so, if you don't mind, I really must be going."

"Sit down. Please."

Something in Dr. Barrie's quiet tone set her ass right back down on the sofa; something in his look kept it there.

"Tell me; what do you know about the Parthenon Marbles?"

"The Greeks want them back and you're here to broker a deal, some sort of long-term loan. That's it, really."

"Good. Your mother's a Member of Parliament, isn't she?"

"What's that got to do with the price of tea in China?"

"She introduced you to a colleague of hers once, a fellow MP by the name of Sir William Rice, right?"

Sammie's eyes flew wide open, then narrowed to slits.

"So?"

"According to this report," he flicked his fingers to the laptop, "Sir Bill's a rather, um, active sort of man, isn't he? Likes younger women. Especially younger women in uniform, in the back of limousines. I'm not making any judgment calls here, you understand. It's none of my business what you two get up to. Except for one thing."

"What the fuck do you want, you shit?"

"Aww; come on now, don't be angry. Play nice. What I want is for you to call Bill and take him out to a particular lover's lane in Chiswick tonight, have some fun. You know the place already, probably. Lots of people do. Some people go there to make out; some go there to watch, right? Lots of people like to watch."

"Yeah. We call it dogging over here. Is that what you want, Oliver? To go dogging?"

"Oh no, love, not me! But if you get the place and time right, and get a little action going, I might have some nice souvenir photos for you sometime tomorrow."

"No fucking way, you bastard!"

"But it would be in a good cause, Sammie! Look, there's probably lots of amateur photos of you and Bill out there already. You two aren't exactly cautious, are you? I just want a little set of photos of my own. I'd share them with you, I promise I would!" 

"Oliver, why don't you just go there and get 'a little set of photos' of some other couple, if you want them so much? Why does it have to be me and Bill?"

"Because Bill is Chairman of the Select Committee for Culture, Media and Sport, sweetheart. It's a rather important committee for me. In a few weeks' time, they're considering changing the law on the British Museum's acquisitions and long-term loans. The museum trustees don't want it to change: the museum can't give up the Marbles while the law stays the way it is. Right now, it's watertight. But Bill's committee could change all that."

"In other words, you want me to help you blackmail him."

"Don't you have a conscience, Sammie? Don't you think the national treasures of Greece should be back where they belong?"

"My conscience! What about your conscience, you hypocrite?!"

"I am exercising my conscience, Sammie. It's my methods that are immoral, that's all. It wouldn't be so bad, would it? Don't you think it would be fun?"

Samantha had to admit the exhibitionist angle had always appealed to her. Bill liked it too; it was what made sex in the limo so exciting. But photographs? That was going way too far.

But then she realized she had no choice. She pictured her Mum opening a large, flat envelope, reading the unsigned cover letter, skimming the pages of the nasty, anonymous report, the mounting panic and dismay. It was too awful to contemplate.

Dr. Barrie watched the conflicting emotions playing across her young face with sympathetic interest, and then wandered over to the coffee table and nonchalantly selected a sandwich. Samantha swallowed her fear with a good draught of anger.

Which bounced right off Dr. Barrie as he stood happily chewing on a whole wheat, roast chicken and mesclun salad in one hand, and a chunk of farmhouse cheddar in the other.

"I swear, if you did anything with those pictures I'd run you over first chance I got. And back over you, too. I'd fucking kill you."

"Whoohoo! So you'll do it? That's wonderful!" He waved his sandwich between bites while he paced excitedly around the living room.

"Don't worry about the pictures. I wouldn't really do anything with them, Sammie; I wouldn't need to! It's just a bluff, like poker. Look, Bill's an okay sort; he wants the committee to make the right choice, I know he does. He just needs a little encouragement to do the right thing."

"You'd be helping him, actually. Lots of people would say he was a brave, upstanding man. It could be a wonderful thing for his career; think of that! He'd go down in history as the man who orchestrated the greatest humanitarian gesture in the history of art. You will do it, love, won't you?"

"What's in it for me?"

"Wow! You mercenary little bitch, I fucking adore you! Well, let me see... there's my assured discretion with that little report there. I know that's important to you, and I take that seriously. And you'd have the undying gratitude of some Greeks I know." 

"Oh yeah, great! A friend I don't need and a lifetime's supply of ouzo! What assurance do I actually have, Oliver? It'd better be something good. You're asking me to risk everything my Mum spent her life building."

"You'll just have to trust me, darlin'. I can't prove I won't do something. Not on the report, anyway. But the photos wouldn't have to be much of a risk to you, or your Mom. Nobody needs to know it's you having it off with Bill. Ever worn a mask? What you keep in your toy bag, anyway?"

"None of your business. And no, I've never worn a mask."

"Well, as it happens, I have one with me! Wanna see it? Hmmm?"

"No."

"Oh, sure you do."

Oliver padded across the thickly carpeted living room and down the small flight of stairs to the bedroom suite. He soon returned, holding out a small, black spandex object.

"It's 'one size fits all'. Try it on?"

"No."

"Go on; you'll look so cute. It would make my day."

"Oh, give it here!"

"Atta girl!"

Samantha took the cloth mask and turned it over in her hands, considering. It was like a hood, with small holes for the mouth and neck. It would be a snug fit. But it was stretchy and light; so light, in fact, it was see through. But it had a padded section where it fit over the eyes. She wouldn't be able to see, but she could pull it off easily enough if she didn't like it. So she shrugged her shoulders, slipped her hair neatly behind her ears, slid the opening onto her scalp, and pulled the mask down snugly over her head.

It was soft, and kind of comforting and, although she couldn't see, she could breathe easily and sense what was around her. In fact she was aware of Dr. Barrie softly humming something classical to himself as he walked about the room.

"Tah dah de tee dah, dee tah da dah dah; doo doo doo doo-dle de doodle-dee ta dah... How's it feel, babe?"

"Fine... Oliver?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"What am I doing?"

"You're sitting on an old perve's sofa in his hotel suite, looking pretty in a kinky mask."

"That's what I thought."

"Oliver?"

"Yes, dearest?"

"Why do I like you?"

"Because I make you wet?"

Samantha thought about it for a moment and then said, "Yes, Oliver. That's probably it."

*******

She woke at 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning with a feeling of foreboding. She and Dr. Barrie had chatted a while, ordered more tea, and she'd left feeling like she should be angry with him, but yet she couldn't be. She wasn't quite sure why. It bothered her, and she didn't understand that, either. And then there was what had happened last night.

She poured too much Rice Krispies into her breakfast bowl, put the box down and stared out the window at the wall of flats across the yard...

"Make me happy, little girl! Undo the buttons. Show Daddy what you got under that cutsey little blouse."

They were in the limo, parked at an angle to a chain link fence. It bordered the lane and marked the boundary with the neighborhood park. An old, wide chestnut tree offered the illusion of privacy, but its overhead branches wouldn't interfere with any photography, as far as Samantha could tell.

Sir William was slouched expansively, half lying on one of the wide leather seats, legs apart. A prominent bulge rested high on one thigh under his lightweight wool trousers. He was in rolled-up shirtsleeves; his tie was on the carpeted floor where she'd dropped it, beside the pinstripe suit jacket. Samantha was sitting on her heels between his feet.

"You want to see them, Daddy?"

"Don't tease."

His dark blue eyes glittered in his big face, a slow smile appeared between the well-defined contours of his close beard. He reminded Samantha of a poet with his sweeping, thick, graying hair and a bricklayer with his big, heavy hands. Actually, at that moment, what he really reminded her of was a lazy but speculative cat.

"Stop me! But, hey, let's try something different. Here..." she pulled the mask out of her blazer pocket. "Put this over my head, Bill. Make me wear it. Then I'll do anything you want." Here kitty, kitty.

Sir William took the mask, turned it over in his hands then gave Samantha a level look.

"You tried this before?"

"Never," she answered truthfully, as she took off her blazer. "But I thought you'd enjoy being in control, for once."

She undid the second button of her blouse, and his eyes dropped to her hands, small and smooth with short, clear-polished nails. He watched her run her palms along the outer curves of her breasts; the third button relaxed as she pushed her tits together and made her cleavage deepen.

"I'd be very good in that mask, you know. I'd let you do whatever you wanted."

She undid the third button and he sighed at the sight of her creamy mounds, barely adequately contained by the briefest of little, white, lacy demi-cups. They'd left the interior light on, as usual. Every little frill was as clear and pretty as a picture. 

"You could tell me what to do, Daddy; I'd be able to hear you..."

Opening the fourth button totally widened the blouse's gape and he blinked slowly as she arched her back, pulled her shoulders back, and lifted her chest towards him. She hooked her forefingers over the edges of the cups and slowly pulled down on them until her nipples emerged, pert and pinky brown.

"...I just wouldn't be able to anticipate anything. But I don't mind surprises."

She ran slow little circles around her nipples with a forefinger on each.

Samantha undid the last two buttons and the blouse hung fully open. She let it drop over her shoulders and slide down her back, then hugged it up around her like a low-slung shawl, waiting. The bulge under his trouser leg had fattened and lengthened considerably.

"Take off your skirt, slut."

She quickly undid the buttons on her sleeve cuffs and happily discarded the blouse. Reaching behind her back she kept her eyes on him as she unzipped the regulation navy blue skirt.

"Will you make me wear it, Daddy? Please?"

She rose up off her heels and slowly slid the skirt's waistband over her hips and down to her knees. A taught, white, lacy suspender belt came into view as her skirt pooled on the floor. He stared hard. She wasn't wearing any panties, and was freshly trimmed. Her lips were clearly visible: luscious, plump, and completely smooth. Her clit was peeping out between them, an intimate, revealed secret. Just for him.

"Please?"

She splayed her fingers and slowly smoothed the middle one up and down the inch-wide strip of dark blonde hair. The fingertip dipped closer and closer to her clitoris with each downstroke.

Sir William was breathing hard, open-mouthed. His voice was a croak: "C'mere!"

Samantha walked between his legs on her knees, skirt working around to her ankles. She pressed her belly into his groin.

"Yes?"

"Hold still."

He slid the mask over her head and roughly pulled it down. Everything was covered except her pretty, pouty, pink-painted lips. In the mask's soft darkness, she felt him take her head in his hands. Her lips registered his tongue running over them, sucking on them, his lips pressing and his tongue forcing into her mouth. She opened to him. She felt moist and voluptuous, her breasts swelling as her breathing deepened.




The Chauffeuse



She heard him undo his fly, felt his hands move round to the back of her head, pull her down. Her lips bumped onto his hot, rubbery cock and she sighed as he stuffed her mouth with it, holding her head firmly in place while he slid it in and out, unceremoniously fast and furious while she made little helpless, simpering noises in her throat, arms outstretched and hands fluttering. She didn't have to do anything to please him, just keep her mouth open. And her throat. He was rather long and very thick, and he was pumping powerfully in a full range of motion. The guttural noises coming out of him were extraordinary.

He let go of her head suddenly and she let his cock go with a loud 'plop' as she felt his big hands grasp her under her armpits. She rose up and clambered blindly on top of him, falling over him as he shifted position. She found herself spread over him, toppled forward, felt the rough grizzle of his beard and the smoothness of his lips and tongue between her breasts. Then she felt his hands squeezing on them, pushing her upright and back, until her wet, nude pussy came in contact with the proud curve of his shaft. Reaching back, she guided the head between her lips and to the entrance of her sex, and sighed again with utter relief as she felt him thrust up hard and into her.

"That's it, yeah! Ride Daddy's cock, baby! Ride the horsey! Clippity clop, clippity clop! Ride it! Yeah! Clop-clop-clop-clop; fuck it, fuck yourself... Ride it hard now, ride it, you cock-sucking-babywhore-slut!! YEAH!! RIDE ME!!"

She sighed and poured milk over the Rice Krispies. He'd probably never speak to her again.

They were in full 'horsey' mode when it started. Samantha couldn't see a thing but, really, she should have known something was up. Maybe she could have stopped it, driven away. She knew she couldn't blame it on the mask, or anything else: she'd known. The truth was, she'd been in denial through the whole thing. And she knew now it wasn't really about protecting her Mum, either. But at the time, she'd been so confused...

At first she thought she'd slammed down on him too hard and broken it or something. But, at the time, he was writhing so hard she figured that couldn't be it: if he was in pain, he wouldn't be moving that much. So then she thought maybe he was just having too good a time and she should stay with it. After all, his gyrations did feel pretty good.

She groaned as she pictured what the photographer must have seen... the hottest looking babe in London obliviously pounding her pussy up and down on Sir William's shaft, her tits swinging wildly above his lasciviously grinning face... Sir William having it off with a saucy, young, masked nymphet in a lover's lane, in the back of a Roller. Sir William gaping in horror at the grinning photographer circling the limo.

She'd only vaguely heard him call her name. She had recognized the panic in his voice, but it just sounded to her like he was afraid of cumming too fast. Or maybe, more likely, she had known the photographer was there, and it had excited her even more. She closed her eyes and groaned as she remembered how she'd responded.

"Yes, Daddy! Buck, horsey, buck! Babygirl's riding a big cock for Daddy! Oh, big... God, you're so hard... Oh God..."

She could indeed feel Sir William bucking hard. He'd been trying to dislodge her. But her blood was roaring and he sounded distant as she felt the first clenching undertow of an encroaching orgasm. His wild jerking and thrusting had been fantastic.

She was too far gone to register his pleading, only dimly aware of her own wailing growing louder and louder with the rising tide about to overcome her. They had both been screaming, at that point.

"SAMANTHA!"

"DAD-DEEEEEE!"

She had been flailing the air when he grasped her by her waist and tried to lift her and throw her backwards, while simultaneously heaving himself upright. Completely misunderstanding his intention, or maybe understanding too well, she'd pulled him onto her as she flew onto her back and locked her legs around his, all the while thrusting wildly on his pussy-locked tool. Basically they'd treated the photographer to a new position, with an even better view of Sir William's face. And there had been nothing he could do about it.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy... Oh... oh, oh... please, Bill, please... I'm gonna cum... give it to me... oh, give it to me..."

She had heard Bill scream in frustration and felt him bury his head between her breasts. And then she'd felt him lunging hard and fast as he'd given in to the maddening, roiling urging of his most primitive instinct: to ejaculate as hard and high into her as he could. Her flopping feet had slapped at his buttocks until her whole body had stiffened and she let loose a scream in an agonized paroxysm of shuddering orgasm. She'd felt him erupt inside her and in that moment he'd blown away the entire world, with all its photographers, and all the other dark things hidden in the back of her mind. Things she suppressed guiltily as she drove a silent and glowering Sir William back to his flat. He hadn't even said goodnight.

She kept a list of all the cars in the Diplomatic Corps' fleet in the valet compartment. Next to each car on the list was a box. Most of the boxes contained a check mark and a date, with a name alongside each.

A mile or so after dropping Bill off and quietly driving away, she had parked under a streetlight and taken out the list. She mechanically put a check against one of the Rolls Royce Silver Spur II Touring Limousines, and wrote "Sir William Rice, 21/4/06". She usually felt ecstatic about crossing off another limo, but not tonight. Tonight, it didn't seem so much fun.

******* 

The thought of how she'd colluded in trapping Bill sat heavily in the pit of her stomach. She was staring miserably at her untouched bowl of soggy Rice Krispies when Dr. Barrie called around 8:30 a.m.

"Whoohoo! Babe, you are so hot! I just got the pics. Wanna come over and see?"

"Thank you, Dr. Barrie. I'd rather not."

There was a brief pause on the line.

"You okay, love?" He sounded soft, genuinely concerned. 

"I'm very well, thank you. Sir." 

"I see." Another pause, which Samantha broke this time.

"Is there anything you need from me this morning, Sir?"

"Actually, yes. There is. I have a missing person situation. As you know, I'm chairing a meeting here at 10:30 a.m. but I've just heard the chief negotiator for the Greek side didn't make it back to his hotel last night. He has got to be here. Can you go pick him up, if I can track him down?"

"Certainly, Sir. I am, after all, at your fucking service."

"Why, thank you, Miss Kane. I'm delighted we're on the same page. Right now, I simply must track down Alcander Pagonis. I'll give you an address as soon as I have one. Understood?"

"Yes!" She hung up, slowly poured the cereal down the waste disposal, flipped the switch, and grimly muttered 'whoo-fucking-hoo' as the unit ate her breakfast.

The telephone rang again about ten minutes later. "He's in Soho: 60 Brewer Street. It's an apartment building. Alcander Pagonis, okay? Get him here. Now. Please."

He hung up before she could ask any questions. She stared resentfully at the phone. He was colder than a meat locker.

But she couldn't think about that now. She had to get to the Corps garage, pick up the limo and get to Soho. That would take about forty minutes; then she had to find this Pagonis person and get back to the hotel. If she didn't run into traffic, she'd make it in time. She'd sort it all out later.

******* Samantha pulled into the quiet, dead-end street and quickly spotted the small building of converted flats. It was inconspicuous and drab between the offices, off-track betting parlors, and sandwich shops. A tanned, balding, stocky man in his mid-fifties wearing a disheveled suit was sitting on the pavement curb, feet in a pool of rainwater, arms cradled around himself. He was rocking like one of the prayerful at the Wailing Wall; any one of whom could probably hear him wailing with them at that moment, she thought, as she cut the engine and got out of the limo. He was astonishingly loud.

As she approached, Samantha watched him twist around and raise his broad, hairy-backed hands in supplication to an upstairs window. She came to an abrupt stop as he repeatedly bellowed a single, howling word; it hung on the thin morning air and raised the hair on the back of her neck.

"Oh-dehhhh-ssa! Oh-dehhhhh-ssaaaaaa!"

A window immediately opened wide above him, a wild-eyed, bushy haired brunette with a full, barely covered bosom leered down, disappeared momentarily and then reappeared grinning maniacally. She tossed back her hair, heaved a bucket up to the windowsill, and a cascade of what Samantha hoped was water flowed as grandly and purposefully as the Niagara Falls. It streamed directly onto the demented man below. The liquid was followed by the bucket. It bounced off the gasping man's head with a hollow 'tock'. She had good aim, Samantha noted.

"Parte makrya apo me! Get away from me! Stay away from me! Aaaaaaarrgh! " The scream cut through the background drone of rush hour traffic and then the sash window slammed down. It didn't deter the bellowing and now dripping man below.

"Se latrevo! S' agapo! Eime eroteumenos me 'sena! Odessa! I love you! Oh-dehhhhh-ssaaaaa!"

Samantha walked back to the limo, retrieved a large towel, and calmly re-approached the sobbing wreck.

"Alcander Pagonis?"

His lifted his craggy, dripping face, blinking and unfocused. He was looking blindly into the sun, and all he could see was the brightening morning light bouncing off her smooth blonde hair.

"Eh?"

"Alcander Pagonis? I was sent to collect you, Sir."

"Eh?"

Samantha sat down beside him on the curb, took a corner of the towel and softly wiped his cheeks. His round brown eyes focused momentarily and widened. He gasped, and then suddenly crushed her to his wet chest.

"An angel! My wish has come true! Yes! Yes, take me now! Take me away! I am ready!"

"Okay. Right then. Um, let go of me, and we'll be on our way."

"Good, yes. It is time! But then, you know that. That's why you're here, yes?"

"Yes, Sir, that's exactly right. And you don't want to be late, do you? So let go of me. Now."

"Oh. Signomi! Sorry. Um, what happens next? I've read a lot about this, but nobody really knows when their time comes, do they?"

"Well, you get into my limo over there, and then I drive you."

"We go in a limo?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Katapliktiki epityxia! Wow! I suppose when it happens, the mind plays tricks. I've read about that. It's okay. I accept."

Samantha suddenly realized how fragile the man's state actually was.

"Well, that's important," she told him slowly. "It's very important that you are as prepared as you can be. Calm. You do feel calmer now, don't you?"

Alcander got to his feet, dabbed himself ineffectively with the towel, and then toddled down the street a little behind Samantha as she took him by the hand and led him gently to the limo.

"Oh yes. Very much calmer. Actually now, I don't know what all the fuss was about. Except... I loved her. I wanted to marry her, you know. But she ran away. It took me years to find her, and when I did she took me in, last night, let me make love to her and I was so happy; but then she demanded money from me this morning! It is too awful. My poor Odessa is a whore! I couldn't treat her that way. But she wouldn't talk to me and then when I refused to pay, she threw me out. She said I'd cheated her, that I had always cheated her! She said I was crazy, too."

"Oh, that's a shame," Samantha empathized. She wasn't sure who with, though. 

"I just wanted to die. And now my prayer has been answered! I am so glad you came."

Samantha unlocked the limo, gently took the towel from the deranged man's limp hands and considered her watch. There was no time to get him changed. Oliver would have to get the concierge to help. She sighed heavily as she opened the door and watched her passenger shamble soggily onto the back seat. On impulse she stepped in beside him and closed the door.

"Alcander, I will start us on our journey soon. But first, there are some questions I must ask you."

"Of course."

"About Odessa; there was a time she knew an American, am I right?"

"If there were any doubts, this would dispel them. You obviously know everything."

"Yes, but I must be sure. You may have some trials before you, you see, and I want to do this correctly."

"I see. Yes, you are right. It hurts to even think of him, and I know now my hatred of him will be my great undoing. But how could I feel otherwise? He seduced her, used her and left her, and then my beloved Odessa could not help herself; she fell in love with him!"

"That's why she left me," he added, sadly, and then whispered, "We were engaged, you know."

"What was his name, Alcander?"

"I can not say such an evil thing!"

"You can say it to me. You must."

Samantha held her breath, waiting for the inevitable.

"Dr. Oliver Barrie."

Samantha exhaled and rolled her eyes. Of course. It had to be. That fucking shit. Alcander gave her a surprised look and she realized she'd said the thought out loud. She covered it with a sympathetic smile and some fast words.

"Thank you, Alcander. I know that took some courage. Now, I want you to realize you can not go forward without reconciling your hatred. You can't take that with you. It's not allowed; totally against the rules. My job is to help you fix it. Now, you were to meet with Dr. Barrie and some others today, were you not? About the Parthenon Marbles?"

"Yes. But I wasn't going to go. Why would I want to help Barrie? I only came to London for Odessa. She was all I cared about."

"Well that's your first mistake, and we're going to correct that right now."

"Oh no! No, please. I cannot face that monster!"

"You must, Alcander. You said 'no' to a great opportunity, you know. One that was given to you to help you. And now you have been given a second chance. You have to go to that meeting."

"What will happen if I don't?"

"Alcander, are you trying to negotiate with *me*? You actually dare to do that?"

"Ah. Sorry. I am very sorry. Forgive me, please. It's what I do for a living, you see. I'm always trying to get a better deal."

"And there is nothing wrong with that. In fact, that is precisely what you are to do. But you're going to have to do it with Dr. Barrie. You and he are going to be a team."

Alcander looked at her like a scolded puppy for a moment, then stared down at his soggy feet.

"I will do what is required of me. I submit. I asked to die, and I know there is a price for everything. I will pay it. Take me to Barrie. I'll work with him."

"Halleluiah," she muttered, looking at her watch.

Alcander Pagonis nodded, bowed his head, clasped his hands together and added, piously, "Amen."

*******

As soon as Samantha had the limo headed in the direction of the Montague Hotel, she called Oliver.

"I have him. I'm on my way. I should be there by around 9:55, if the traffic's good."

"Thank you, Miss Kane. Good job."

Miss Kane. Her chest seemed tight all of a sudden and her eyes felt prickly. "There's a complication, though. May I suggest you get the concierge to help? You need to get a change of clothes for Alcander. He's soaking wet. You could guess his size, right? I figure you've met him before."

"Oh? Wet, huh? Interesting. Yes, I did meet him a few times. It was years ago though, I'm not sure of his proportions now."

A little thing like fucking a guy's fiancée would tend to dampen a relationship, she supposed. There probably hadn't been much to say since. She slammed the door on the growl in her head and tried to sound professional.

"He's around 195 pounds. I'd say waist about forty. Height's around 5' 8", don't you think?"

"Uh, yeah, somewhere around there. Ok, I've got it. I'll get some clothes for him. Well, thank you, again."

"There's something else you should know, Sir. He's had a rather traumatic experience. That address you gave me? The person who lives there is someone called 'Odessa'. Apparently the same one your last chauffeuse abandoned you with."

"Oh! Wow! Really? Ah. Well, how delightful! I didn't know she was in London. Wait a minute... I was told that apartment block is a kind of, well, brothel, or something."

"That is apparently correct, Sir."

"Are you telling me Odessa's a whore?!"

"Yes, Sir. It seems you had something to do with that. And for that reason, Sir, Mr. Pagonis doesn't like you very much. As I said, I thought you should know."

"He blames me?"

"Apparently he does, yes. You broke up his engagement."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"And now she's a whore? Because of me?"

"Looks like it."

"Ohmygod."

"I thought you should be aware of the situation, Sir."

"Ohmygod. This is disastrous. I have to address it. Oh shit, there's no time! What does he want from me?"

"That's not for me to say, Sir. However I believe he intends to treat you respectfully and do his best with the negotiations."

"Oh? And you believe this based on what, exactly?"

"Our conversation. He's been quite forthcoming."

"In a very short time, too... Ah. I get it. Yeah, I see." There was a pause, then a heavy sigh.

"Yeah, you probably felt you had to do it, given the circumstances with the report n' all. You really don't trust me much, do you? Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. An outstanding performance, Miss Kane. Remind me never to underestimate your powers of persuasion. Well fucking done. Or maybe that should be, 'well done fucking'?"

Samantha's foot pressed ever so slightly on the accelerator pedal and the powerful Rolls surged dangerously close to the rear bumper of the car in front.

"We will be there shortly, Sir. Goodbye."

*******

The attendees had been invited to a pre-meeting breakfast on the Montague Hotel's wooden deck. It was a select, intimate group: a couple of UNESCO representatives, a few Greek nationals with long standing in the international arts and heritage community, a few British Museum trustee members. And there was Sir William Rice, alone at a table for two with Dr. Barrie.

The agenda included discussions on the progress of the new Acropolis Museum in Athens, the feasibility of British law ever allowing the Marbles to visit their homeland, and the suitability of the new Acropolis Museum as an international venue. They all knew they weren't going to decide the fate of the Marbles that day, or any day soon. So the general atmosphere was one of congenial preparation for long and delicate groundwork. 

The day promised to be reasonably congenial, and the mild, early summer sunshine on the rose-trellised deck helped set the mood. Most of the attendees had met before. There were a few experts who hadn't been able to make it; Dr. Barrie was going to meet them on their home turf in Oxford on Monday. 

"...Yes, Bill, I'm rather looking forward to seeing Oxford again. May I call you Bill? Please, call me Oliver. And thank you so much for having breakfast with me: I do feel it's important for us to get to know each other."

"Well, yes, I do too, Oliver. You know, you have rather a colossal task in front of you. You need to understand, and I shall be making it clear in our discussions today, the Select Committee won't be premature in its recommendation on the legal issue. Although, I do rather fear that, in the end, you're not going to get anywhere. Of course, I am interested in full and open discussions on the matter. That's why I'm here."

"Of course. I wouldn't expect anything less from you. You know, this may seem odd, but I feel as though I know you already."