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The Bodyguard

By: A-man



April had a body that most porn stars would envy. She was short (just barely five feet) and large busted (40DD), with a narrow waist and just-so hips. She was classically Anglo-Saxon, with lilly-white skin, long red hair, and green eyes. She could have been a porn star, but her oil-business-father’s wealth made that essentially impossible. It wouldn’t be proper, she knew, for the daughter of a well-known businessman to make fuck flicks. 

And, being the daughter of a well-known businessman, she couldn’t go out and pick up men on a whim, for fear of being identified and embarrassing her father. So, she was constantly horny, and without enough outlet, she often relied on her vibrator. She used it nightly, sometimes two or three times a day, and remembered that last great encounter with the male model some months... no, almost a year ago. That was the last time she’d had sex. Last year. Damn.

April sat in her room one Saturday morning, working on her homework (being a freshman at a prestigious university generated a lot of it), when there was a knock on her door. 

“Come in.” It was her father. 

“April, put on some clothes and come down to my study. There’s someone here I want you to meet.” She thought she was adequately dressed, in running shorts and a sports bra which showed off her huge chest. She listened to her father, anyway, and covered herself with a baggy sweatshirt. 

When she entered the study, there was a tall man in a gray suit standing next to her father’s desk. He was about thirty, with black hair and a lean-but-muscular appearance common to military men. April sat in a chair in front of her father’s desk, vying for a look at the man’s posterior.

“April," her father interrupted her daydreaming “this is Dave. He’s a bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?” April didn’t understand.

“Yes, dear, I haven’t told you until recently, but I received some threatening phone calls from some employees I had fired a while ago. Nothing to worry about, but I want to be cautious until the police arrest the men. So, Dave will be with you all the time until that happens.” April looked up at the man. She felt her pussy moistening just thinking about how much fun she could have with this man.

Dave was given a room over one of the mansion’s three garages, close to April’s room so he could respond to a problem quickly. He would have to cross a covered walkway to enter the mansion proper, go down four rooms, and he’d be there. He’d walked the short distance several times, mostly with his eyes closed to learn all the doors, latches, etc. by feel in case he had to move at night and the power had been cut. He’d also installed a panic button in April’s room, as the other bodyguards had in her parent’s bedroom and the other often-used rooms.

Dave also insisted on running with April when she went on her daily jog. She jogged not only for exercise, but for the fact that she liked the attention men gave her when she ran past them, her breasts bouncing in the sports bra that barely contained them. She noted that Dave also looked her over frequently, mostly looking at her ass since her followed her along. She noted that in her head, and thought happily about how she’d try to seduce him...

Later that night, around midnight, after everyone had bedded down, she looked out the window to see if Dave’s lights were still on. They were. Great, she thought, now she’d try. She put on a terry-cloth robe, with nothing under it, and no shoes as it was warm out. She slipped across the aerial walkway toward Dave’s quarters, careful not to make any noise which would alert the security guard on the ground. She made it across, and lightly knocked on the door. Dave answered, wearing running shorts and sandals. He was mave asked, moving toward the fridge.

“Do you have a beer?” she asked.

“Your father would kill me if he knew I’d given you one, but what the hell.” He retrieved one from the small fridge under his kitchen counter which held his microwave.

She took it and opened it, and took a pull. “I don’t drink, so I’ll just have a Coke.” Dave opened a can of Coke and sat down on the couch next to her. April had situated herself next to his ashtray, and took a Camel from his pack. Dave retrieved his and dragged.

“My daddy doesn’t know I smoke, either. I won’t tell if you won’t.” She winked at him. He winked back. He leaned across her to tap his ash, and she lifted her chest so her breasts pressed against his chest. He looked at her, and she looked back with a mischievous grin. Their eyes locked for a few seconds, and then she made her move, reaching up for his face and kissing him lightly. He blinked, and then backed away.

“April, I can’t do that. I’m more than ten years older than you, and I work for your father.” April placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled him down to her.

“Like I said, I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Dave grabbed her by the hips, and pulled her into himself as he fell back on the couch, leaving her on top of him. Their mouths met, lips parting, and tongues meshing. April pulled back the robe, exposing her breasts, which Dave took in his hands. He had large hands, but still couldn’t cup his hands entirely around them. He kneaded her breasts, pinching and pulling her nipples, while she ground her pelvis into his. 

“Eat me, eat me...” she panted. He extricated himself from under her, moving off of the couch and on to his knees as she turned over and spread her legs. His face moved down toward her pussy, his tongue teasing her mound as he fingered her hole. She moaned and panted and writhed as he licked her. She grabbed his hand and moved it away from her pussy, taking his fingers and tasting her own wetness on them. She moistened them more with her saliva, then closed his hand into a fist, with one finger extended, and placed the finger on her asshole. 

He knew what she wanted, and obliged, pushing his finger into her brown eye. He twisted his finger, and slowly moved it in and out, while keeping up the pace on her clit with his tongue. She writhed and panted even more, approaching her orgasm, then grabbed his head and pushed it away, looking him in the eyes.

“I need you inside me.” He reached to the drawer of his end table for a rubber, and she stopped him. “You won’t need it. I want it in my ass.” He reached instead for the bottle of K-Y, lubed his hard cock, and turned her over. His head teased her ass hole, and she responded by pushing her hips back against him as he guided his shaft in. He started pumping slowly, but she turned her head to look at him and said “harder." He grabbed her hips and slammed her back against him, saying “that hard?"

"No," she smiled, and shoved back toward him, jolting him, “that hard. Hard as you can.” He grabbed her hips and mustered all of his strength, and slammed her as hard as he could. “Yes!” He kept pace, slow but forceful, as she moved her hips back and forth in tune. She rubbed her pussy fervently, and started hyperventilating “oh god oh god! I’m gonna cum!” He moved his hands forward, grabbing her enormous breasts and squeezing them hard, and she quivered uncontrollably, letting out a stifled scream as she came. He pulled out, feeling his own orgasm, and flipped her over, jacking himself and ejaculating waves all over her breasts as she pawed his jizz off of herself and licked it from her fingers. He collapsed beside her, out of breath, and she stroked his cock as he held her around the shoulders. 

They lay like that for about ten minutes, stroking each other and giggling, until a shotgun blast rang out from outside. Dave sat bolt upright, looking around for his shorts and pistol, retrieved them, and ran outside. He looked down from the walkway, seeing the night guard on the ground, bleeding, and a masked man trying to take the keys from the guard’s belt. 

Dave lifted his pistol, sighted, and fired two shots at the intruder, who fell, looked up at Dave, and fired his shotgun. Dave fell back, wounded, tumbled off the walkway, and landed on his stomach on the ground. Looking up, he saw the masked intruder heading for the back door. Dave fired again, hitting the man in the head and dropping him. Dave paused for several seconds, and then rushed to attend the fallen guard. Two other bodyguards rushed out, one checking the downed guard, who was still alive, and the other applying pressure to Dave’s shoulder wound. Another guard covered the intruder, who was dead.

Later that night, at the hospital, Dave was released. Mitch, the wounded guard, would recover from his chest wound. Dave’s would heal quickly. April led him to her car, to take him home. On the way, she grabbed him by the thigh, and purred, “Hey, hero, wanna guess what your reward’s gonna be?"

The Bodyguard



I am a popular vocalist, you are my bodyguard, and my bestfriend since childhood. I trust you with my life. I come offstage, it's the last show of the tour. You hustle me out to the limo amidst screaming fans. We greet the chauffeur as we get into the car. All windows are up. We have complete privacy. After a while, things that have been tearing me up inside lately comes to mind and I begin quietly crying. To hide my tears I turn towards the window, but I should have known better. You noticed almost instantly,

"Whats wrong?" you ask me, placing an arm around my shoulder. At that moment my drizzle became a downpour as hard sobs started shaking my shoulders. 

"The stress is too much for me. I feel so alone. My schedule is so full that I can't even make room for the tiniest bit of romance. Meikal (pronounced Michael), I feel as though I'm in my own little world. That no one really cares about me as a person, but only as an artist." I say in between sniffles. 

You've been waiting so long for this opportunity to show me how much you care about me. Gently kissing away my tears, you pull me close in a gentle hug. "Ssshhh, baby please don't cry," you say in your soothing baritone, kissing my forehead. And while nuzzling my neck, you say in my ear barely above a whisper, "I love you so much that it's all I can do to keep from falling apart at night, going crazy from not being able to touch you *a kiss* to hold you." You gently cup my face into your hands and start nibbling on my chin, my lips, kissing my mouth, our tongues are feelng each other's soft wetness. "You taste so sweet.," you say. All I can do is moan in reply as I feel your magic working it's way through my system, igniting my adrenaline... 

You're kissing my neck, your hand is caressing my smooth thigh, slowly moving up to my silk panties. You move them to the side, giving you access to my hot ebony pussy. You insert one, two, mmmmm three fingers and begin sliding them in, out, and all about. You rub my clit in between two fingers. I feel for your beautiful black cock. You're hard as a rock now, you're so hot for me. I can't believe how fast my heart is pounding. Getting down on your knees, you pull at my panties, and turn me around. You bend me over while you pull these panties down, off... You're red hot starring at my lovely ass. You spread me, my knees on the seat. I moan as you grab my ass and caress my pussy with your tongue, plunging in and lapping my clit, feeling my wetness, grabbing my thighs and pushing your face deep into my ass. You can't take any more...

You pull me to the floor of the huge limo on all fours and slowly push your anaconda into my beautiful, wet, hot pussy. As you grind your hardon into my kitty I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation of your lips now dancing on my neck, my erect nipples. I continue to moan "mmmm baby please, don't stop," "awww yes," "you make me feel so beautiful." As you fuck me harder and harder you feel me pushing against you. I feel you driving your hard cock deeper into my wet pussy... feels so nice that you want it to last. You pull out, kiss me until my head starts spinning, and flip me over on my stomach and then, I can feel your hands caressing my ass, lubing it with the large amount of cum which has erupted from my now swollen mound. You gently slide your three fat dripping fingers deep into my ass making me moan loudly. My erotic words of encouragement turns you on. Makes your cock harder. With your other hand you stroke your cum soaked shaft. I feel your dick pressing against the tight rectum, probing for a slow entry. I hear a soft pop. Again I let out a loud moan of appreciation.

I can feel your pole moving slowly into my ass, stopping a few times until you are buried to the hilt. You stop, to make sure that I am ok. You begin seesawing in and out. Slowly. And then faster, deeper. Your balls slapping against my ass. I'm moaning, panting. You're growling, groaning. Faster. Fuck fuck fuck! Thrusting harder. Deeper. Burying oh so deep into my sore tunnel. "Oh have mercy" you scream as you continue to thrust. I can feel your cock stiffening. You're ready to cum. I'm meeting your every move. Your fuck tool glides deeper, quicker. Like lightening. You tell me to reach back and rub my clit while you fuck, in an out in an out for at least half an hour till we're cumming loudly, screaming bloody mary. Then we reach the motel.. there's more..



The Bodyguard



Sotina was tired, so very tired. It was a bone weary kind of tired that shamed the exhaustion she had known on her home planet. Dukenau IV did that to people, especially to Terrans. The atmosphere had less oxygen, so she was always panting for air. The high G planet also made just moving a chore. She was only five foot three and barely weighed 100 pounds on earth, but here she weighted nearly 175 and her muscles ached by the end of the day. Even her bio-enhanced body felt the strain.

Dukenau IV was just marginally habitable, but it was mineral rich. The majority of the population were transient miners. A few administrators, accountants, and other professionals handled all of the white-collar work of running the planet. They stayed in a self-sustaining complex with artificially induced gravity and air. A cottage industry had sprung up catering to the miners in the few "cities" on the planet. Brothels, bars, and flophouses outnumbered regular buildings, with most of the workers living in prefab hovels. 

Sotina was one of the thirty colonial marines on planet. Dukenau was well within the terran sphere, so their duties were more constabulary than defensive. She was the lone woman in the company and Dukenau provided hardships other than just physical for her. Unlike her fellow marines she couldn't go out on leave and enjoy the limited diversions the main city of Tharp had to offer. On a world like this there were only two kinds of women, those who did it for money and those who were "good" women. The good women category included a few entrepreneurs, the wives and daughters of the administrators and the occasional Sky pilot. "Good" women were never found out in bars and thus any female who was in such environs was assumed to be fair game. 

She could of course wear her uniform, but that defeated the purpose of going out, nothing ever happened when a Marine was around. Even the toughest miners had learned in the school of hard knocks to avoid the Marines. Combat trained and bio-enhanced a single Marine was more than enough to keep a city like Tharp in line. In her combat armor and carrying her Mk 7001 assault cannon she was more than a match for the whole population of the planet. Diversion could be had with the members of her company of course, but Sotina avoided that. She had seen too many instances where personal ties to fellow marines had ended up costing both dearly. She had also cultivated something of an Ice queen reputation that discouraged replacements from pressing a suit. 

She had been on patrol at the Caravack mines for most of the day and now sat on a bench in the barracks locker room. She was too tired to even begin the complicated process of removing her armor. Corporal Tasker and Private Runyard had already changed into street clothes and left so she had the place to herself. 

She was still sitting there when she heard raised voices coming from the duty station. The argument escalated and she was actually beginning to get curious when the door opened and the young Navy Captain stormed in.

"Excuse me Gunny," he said, looking embarrassed.

"No sweat," she replied.

"Do you happen to know who's on right now?"

She depressed the stud in her left gauntlet that unlocked the small repeater housed on her forearm and then punched in a series of codes with her other hand.

"Marks is over at the mines and Dayton is on patrol in Tharp. Why?"

"The planetary governor is out front raising hell."

"What's he want?"

"A marine detachment."

She laughed then. The young officer was staring at her, but then he too broke out in a grin.

"Civilians."

"Yeah. But this one is at least nominally my superior and he's being a bigger ass than usual."

"I'll deal with him for you," she said, rising and putting her helmet back on.

"Thanks gunny," he said.

"No problem," she replied, her voice now sounding deep and menacing, piped through a distortion matrix for just that effect.

She walked through the doors, into the small adjoining anteroom, where a few desks and a bench were set up to handle visitors and complaints. This was Navy territory, not her problem, but the Captain was a good kid and she didn't see any reason for him to catch shit if the governor was asking after Marines.

He was a gaunt man, with thin lips. Sotina never really noticed more about him. She just remembered how those lips could go from obsequious smile to sneer depending on whom he was addressing.

"There you are," he said imperiously, "Call out your men and report to my chambers."

"Have you declared martial law?" she asked.

"What? No, of course not!"

"Then I don't take orders from you," she said, turning on her heels.

"Captain! I order you to have this insubordinate trash thrown in irons!" the gaunt man demanded.

"I don't have any authority over the Marine detachment here," he stated flatly.

"You there, come back this instant, I didn't dismiss you!"

She sighed heavily and turned, walking up to him and grabbing the front of his expensively tailored robes. With little effort she hoisted him up and off the floor.

"Understand this. I don't care who you were blowing or who you had your old lady putting out for to get where you are. It cuts no ice with me. Your fancy robes, your tokens of office and the rest of the crap. Makes me no never mind. The imperial Marine detachment on this jerkwater planet is my responsibility and I answer to no one other than the Regional military command on Solstice. The only way you give me orders is if you declare a state of emergency. Otherwise, you ask like everyone else who thinks their problem is the empire's. You got it?"

When he didn't respond she shook him for emphasis.

"I...Can't...Hear...YOU!"

"I'm sorry," he said, almost choking on his pride as he did so. 

She lowered him to the floor and stepped back. Hers was an autonomous command, but she didn't want to push the issue too far. Part of the reason she even had it was because she was judicious in the use of force and more or less careful in exerting her authority. Command would back her one hundred percent on refusing to surrender her authority to a planetary official, but they would bar-b-que her ass for causing problems if his complaint were legit.

"Now, what do you need from His majesty's forces?" she asked reasonably.

"I need a detachment to provide protection for a very important visitor," he said, trying to regain his dignity as he straightened his robes.

"If I provided even a man to every person who visits here who thinks they deserve protection I wouldn't have a command. Planetary bodyguards are the navy's responsibility." 

"I offered to send some men," the Captain added.

"And I want marines," he said, regaining some of his earlier arrogance.

"Want in one hand, shit in the other, see which gets full first."

"You really are an insufferable man," the governor said.

"Said the pot to the kettle."

"I haven't time for this. Will you, Please, send some men?"

He sounded desperate and while she could see it pained him, that please had seemed sincere.

"When is this VIP arriving?"

"In thirty minutes."

"Half an hour? You've got solid brass balls."

"Spare me. Will you send some men or not?"

"There are thirty Marines on this planet your lordship," she said as sarcastically as she could through the transmitter, "twenty are in Tharp, getting high, getting drunk, getting laid, getting into a fight or some combination thereof. Five are stationed on the other side of the planet at Carbon Dale, one's on duty at the mines, one's on duty in Tharp, two are AWOL, again, and if I knew where to find those two shit birds I'd already be kicking their asses. And I'm off duty. The next time you plan on asking us to do something for you, I suggest a week's notice at the least so I can adjust the duty roster."

"Will you come then?"

"Fuck," she said and heaved a big sigh.

The best thing to do would be tell him to fuck off. On the other hand, if some corporate big wig got snuffed, it'd be her ass. Never mind that security wasn't her responsibility. They'd roast her over a slow fire and she knew it.

"Give me a minute to load up," she said at last.

Sotina walked back into the squad bay and opened the weapons locker. She took down her autocannon and shrugged into the heavy ammo backpack the big gun used. She effortlessly made the connections. She checked her load, full 10,000 rounds, checked her power supply, 89%, checked the auto feed and auto jam clearing mechanism.

She put four high explosive 40mm grenades in her arm launcher, replacing the tear gas crowd control load she usually carried and made her way back to the anteroom.





The Bodyguard



"Better?"

"Much. You're far prettier than I was lead to believe."

"No one looks good in ID pictures."

"True enough. So, can I take it your interested?"

"I'd like to see the world from a viewpoint other than looking up. I'd like to eat real food, drink real liquor and wear fancy clothes, so yeah, I'm interested. But you still haven't answered my question. Why me?"

"There were twenty-five people on that pad charged with guarding my daughter's life. Ten of the best bodyguards to be had, a ten man navy detachment, and five super heavy combat guards. And they're all dead. And my daughter would be too, if there hadn't been one Imperial Marine on hand."

"I got lucky."

"In my line of work, I don't believe in luck."

"Fair enough."

"So where to begin."

"Why are you evening making a pitch? If you own my contract?" she asked.

He laughed then. A rich, mellow sound, so unlike the false joviality she was used to from corporate types.

"I wish I could just do that. I almost wish I was low class enough to let you believe I could. But, I'm not," he said, taking out a folded piece of paper and placing it on her desk.

"Your contract is my thanks to you, if you take the job or not."

"So, I'm like, not a Marine anymore?"

"Technically no. You can reup of course and be serving on two contracts at once. Drawing double benefits and double pension, if that's what you choose to do. I'm hoping you'll come to work for me though."

"What's it pay?"

"Forty thousand creds a standard year."

"Hell, I make fifty in the corps."

"No, you make fifty every service year. That's every 365 standard days out of stasis. I'll pay your forty for every standard year, regardless of your status and I'll even guarantee at least 100 years to every service year you put in."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Jala means that much to me and infinitely more," he said quietly.

"Jala's your daughter?"

"One of them," he said, his face taking on a softer, far away look that seemed incongruous to that of the sharp, business tycoon.

"I have ten kids. Nine married off to suitably rich spouses. They all expect to inherit part of Adlewiess, but they aren't going to. I'm leaving my entire controlling share to Jala."

When Sotina didn't say anything the old man shook himself and smiled. 

"This isn't like any interview I have ever conducted. You aren't like anyone I've ever tried to hire. You aren't even trying to impress me. And you haven't once attempted to kiss my ass. I find it appealing."

"I am who I am. No excuses."

"Quite. I built this company into the biggest mining concern in the Authority. Starting with one failing mine on Henshaw-6-9. Part of my success was in marrying the daughter of a shipping magnate. She bore me ten children, and we were comfortable, but she was born to money and raised our children in that same arrogance. Only Jala rebelled. Putting herself though school and earning her citizenship with a stint in the pioneers. She hated my wife and her siblings and we were estranged until Margiella passed some decades back."

"She hardly looks eighteen."

"And how old do I look?"

"Mid fifties," she said with a shrug.

"Try two thousand and fifty, you'd be closer."

"Spacer?"

"Not as such, but I traveled extensively to keep up with and on top of my concerns."

"And her?"

"She travels now. My personal troubleshooter. She's twenty–three now, in standard years, but she was born over nine hundred years ago, on old earth."

"Older than me."

"Quite a bit older, but age no longer imparts experience as you are well aware and while competent in the extreme, she is still rather naïve."

"Who's trying to frag her?"

"You are, I assume familiar with the free worlders?"

"Yeah. Separatists, but they aren't generally violent."

"No, but there has been a disturbing trend lately. Splinter groups who have lost patience with peaceful means."

"What would they hope to gain by acing your daughter?"

"Apparently, they would prefer to see Adlewiess broken up into many smaller, less powerful concerns. And it's just as apparent they have seen my will. I had the lawyer who drew it up killed for his carelessness, but that does nothing to protect Jala."

"And you think I can stop them?"

"I think no such thing. I think you can provide her with the best protection I can offer, while other agents work on eliminating the particular cell."

"Fair enough. 40,000 a year. What about equipment?"

"I've had a suit of Mk II combat armor commissioned for you, in black of course to differentiate you from a marine. And I've ordered a mk 7100 assault cannon, as well as smaller arms. I have tailors ready to put together a less intimidating wardrobe and a full line of more...concealable weapons. I've also arranged for you to keep your bio-enhancements."

"Deal." 

"Welcome aboard....what should I call you?"

"Gunny is fine."





The Bodyguard



A round whizzed by her head, but the only sound was it caroming off Jala's pod.

Silenced then. Not good. Still, her thermal sights gave her the edge and she located the shooter from the extreme IR signature of her pistol. The ex-marine sighted carefully and sent three rounds into the bulk of her body, catapulting her into one of the windows. She slid down, leaving a warm red smudge that let the ex-marine know there was no more threat in that direction.

One left. Where? She tired to remember where the waiters had been before the first shot, but she couldn't place him. Then it hit her, the fifth was the bar tender. She turned but his signature was flat on the floor with his hands over his head. Not in on it then. She stood slowly and waited as the elevators opened, disgorging security teams.





The Bodyguard



Author's Note: This story has a bit of build up and the sex may be a while in coming. Like all good things, I hope you find it worth waiting for. Enjoy.

*****

I ought to have been feeling cheerful, but I wasn't. The terrace of my suite in the Eden au Lac overlooked the lake in Zurich. In the distance, I could see the lights of the city and beyond that, the hazy outline of the Alps. It was the middle of December and the air was sharp and invigorating. The suite itself was luxurious, tastefully done, with soft lighting, elegant drapes and period furniture. I had just worked my way through a delicious meal - the Hotel's signature Hors d'oeuvres chaud and a Turbot au champagne, washed down with a wonderfully dry white wine of an obscenely ancient vintage. 

The Michaelmas term had just drawn to a close in Balliol college at Oxford where I was reading the Classics and I was free for a month from the burden, actually rather a pleasant one, of being a student. I was headed the next day for St. Moritz, where my family owns a chalet, for a reprieve that I was eagerly awaiting. 

I love the lake and the ring of mountains that surround the Engadine valley. The upper reaches of the mountains are covered in a blanket of snow in this season and the lower slopes are draped in stands of pine. And yet, for all of this, the breath left my lungs in a soulful sigh. My father always had that effect on me.

I had just received a call from him, which had been, true to character, brief and cryptic. He had hired a bodyguard to accompany me to St. Moritz and he was to remain with me for the entire season. Our conversations were always awkward and stilted and he had hung up even before I could ask him why on earth I needed a bodyguard in the first place. It was a mystery I couldn't fathom. 

My father, Vladimir Lubyanov, is a man of many parts -- entrepreneur, takeover artist, commodities speculator and according to some, rogue at large. My father's family had been Russian aristocracy and had fled Russia during the revolution. Having had the foresight to stash a large part of their wealth in various Swiss banks, they had suffered less than others did during that tumultuous period. In my father's family, no heads had rolled and the dent in the family fortune, while substantial, had not been crippling.

My great grandfather had chosen England as the place the family would recoup and re-array their forces for a fresh assault on the portals of wealth. The operation had been immensely successful. Over the years, the family had acquired business interests in virtually every country in Western Europe. Some of the investments were so discreet and the web of cross holdings so convoluted that I doubted that even the family knew the true extent of their wealth. Unlike other Russian refugees of that period who were glad to have escaped alive and wanted nothing further to do with the motherland, my father's family had had the vision to cultivate their former contacts in the Soviet Union. 

After the initial storm had spent itself, it was business as usual and my great grandfather, and my grandfather after him, had found ways of making money from the new Communist masters of the old country. So when the winds of change began to blow and the tide turned once again, my father was perfectly poised to take advantage of the political turmoil that ensued. As state property began to pass into private hands under the new dispensation, my father was there to help carve up the pie. A fortune that was already large multiplied several fold and began to assume proportions that were gargantuan. My father now found himself in control of a petrochemical giant whose tentacles stretched across Europe into Asia and the Middle East.

In all the empire building, my father had neglected a couple of things. One was me. I was happy to be ignored and can't claim to have missed him. The other was my mother. She regrettably couldn't say the same. She was old money, Scottish aristocracy, the sort of family that took pride of place in Burke's Landed Gentry. I think that's what drew my father to my mother in the first place. With the respect that dispossessed aristocracy always has for good breeding, my father placed much stock by the fact that the blood in my mother's veins clearly ran blue.

She was a fragile soul, given more to poetry and to painting the melancholy landscape of her country than to being the wife of a captain of industry. She spent her entire life in her family's manor house in the Northern highlands near Durness. It was a forbidding place, rock strewn and wind blown. The manor stood on the edge of a cliff, the foaming sea on one side and a ring of undulating hills, ghostly shapes lost in mist, on the other. The weather was not the most cheerful. It was cold and wet, the moss covered walls of the manor more often than not submerged in fog that had rolled in from the sea. The few trees that dotted the landscape struggled to stay upright, beaten into submission by the gale force winds that tore across the land. And yet the place had a magic all its own. It was almost unreal, trapped in a twilight zone where every shape assumed an ominous meaning. 

The absence of sun and warmth bred sorrow and longing. For all his shortcomings, and there were many, my mother loved my father and she did not take to his long absences kindly. She moped about the corridors of that house, regarding the incessant rain with a doleful eye. While present in my life, she was yet absent and I had no choice but to get used to it. One winter night, while the wind rattled the windowpanes, she sat at the carved oaken desk that had belonged to her father and to his father before him and fired a bullet from the ancient revolver that had always hung in a glass case in the study through her brain. She died instantly. I discovered her slumped over the desk, her hair matted in blood, the stained glass window behind her shattered where the bullet had whistled out into the fog.

I never forgave my father for it though I don't think he was entirely to blame. My mother's was a delicate disposition and I don't think he could have ever been the husband that my mother wanted. And yet, I could not forgive him for not being there, for letting me find her body strewn across that desk, for that scream trapped in a ten year old's throat. I was already older than my years and when my mother died, I grew up in an even greater hurry. I resented my father for that too, for the loss of my childhood. But most of all, I think I resented him because I feared that I would become like him or even worse that I was already him. I took some consolation from the fact that while my name -- Ivan -- was unmistakably Russian, I was my mother's spitting image, with raven black hair and an aquiline nose that screamed Scottish. 

For a brief space, I thought, she lives on through her son... 

My reverie was interrupted by a discreet cough from the direction of the suite. It was the butler, elegant as usual, impeccably turned out ... this is one of those hotels where the valets are always better dressed than the guests. Well, I would presently have the answers to my questions, I thought. The figure beyond him was shadowy. The lights were not on in the room and I strained to make out the features of the bodyguard who had been assigned to protect my person and who was being shown by the valet into my presence.

When the figure finally passed through the door into the soft light of the terrace, I noted with some surprise that it was a woman. This was eccentric even by my father's prodigious standards. She walked up to the table where I was sitting and placed a thin folder on the lace tablecloth. When I looked at her enquiringly, she said briefly, "My credentials."

I flipped open the folder only to look at her name -- Elena Pemkova -- and then snapped it shut. I had no doubt that she would be qualified to do whatever it is that she did. That way, my father could be quite exacting. I wasn't surprised that he had picked a Russian. In the end, for anything important, he trusted only his own kind. That was true even for the string of women that he ran through after my mother's passing. They were the same body type -- tall, blonde, blue eyed and bigboned. I could barely tell one from the other. I wonder sometimes why he married my mother in the first place. 

He makes a half hearted attempt to hide his dalliances from me for reasons that I haven't entirely understood, perhaps out of some sense of delicacy that is otherwise quite unlike him. But these things are, of course, hard to hide. We maintain a conspiracy of silence about his little flings and pretend during our occasional meetings that he is celibate. Just like his marriage with my mother, his relationship with me is also beginning to fill up with lies. I wondered idly if Elena was also a squeeze, one of his occasional diversions. I somehow thought not.

I had not offered her a chair. My manners were brawling with my sense of irritation at being imposed upon and the irritation was winning. If she had an opinion about my lack of grace, her expression didn't reveal it. Her face was calm and composed, the face of a person who had the rare blessing of certainty. Her eyes were clear blue, like slivers of arctic ice. She had high, sharp cheekbones, which were an interesting counterpoint to lips that were soft and pronounced. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was tall and rangy, her limbs loose and relaxed. Her hands were very still, the kind of hands that didn't need to fidget. She was dressed in a dark blue jacket over a white silk shirt paired with soft woolen trousers. An unmistakable bulge in her side revealed a shoulder holster. She was evidently packing. Her gaze was level and met mine without hesitation or dissembling.

"Despite what my father might think," I said, "I don't need a chaperone."

"I'm not a chaperone," she replied softly, "I'm a bodyguard. You already know that."

Her voice was deep, with a warmth that was in stark contrast to the severity of the rest of her. I caught myself thinking that perhaps the warmth was genuine and the severity was a pose.

"Whatever," I drawled, "But I don't see why I need either."

"I don't know very much, Mr. Lubyanov, but I was informed that your father recently acquired a company that owns a perfumery near Basel and laid off a couple of hundred workers."

That was more than I knew. But it did sound like my father, though perfumes were not our usual stomping ground.

"Nothing new," I replied, "There's always trouble in my father's empire. Sometimes, I believe he wouldn't sleep soundly if there wasn't."

I struggled to keep the sarcasm out of my voice and failed. She pretended not to notice.

"I believe there has been some unrest among the laid off workers. Your father fears there may be an attack on you. You are a soft target."

"I see. Why you?"

"You mean ... why a woman?" Since she had put it like that, I nodded.

"Don't be fooled, Mr. Lubyanov. I'm good at what I do. And your father thought that I would be less obvious." She hesitated before adding, "He thought that perhaps I would pass unremarked, being a woman, if I escorted you."

I was a little surprised that my father had thought it through quite so thoroughly. It was not exactly typical.

"I see," I said dryly.

I let her stand there for a while as I gloomily contemplated the reflection of the moon shimmering in the waters of the lake. After a while, she spoke.

"If you have no further need of me, may I be excused? In case you need to go out, please call me, regardless of the hour."

"I'll do no such thing," I said, in as firm a voice as I could muster.

She sighed heavily, the first hint of exasperation she had betrayed all evening.

"Then I have no choice but to wait outside your door the entire night. My orders were clear."

I can be difficult sometimes when provoked, but even I'm not that churlish. I suddenly felt very, very tired.

"Oh, alright," I said finally, "I'll call you if I need you. Get a good night's sleep."

She flashed me a look of gratitude and strode off through the interconnecting door that led from my suite into her room. I would just have to make do, I thought with resignation. My father could be determined when he wanted to be.

*****

The next morning, she was already up and raring to go by the time I wandered groggily into the hall. The last thing I needed was someone to remind me how slow I'm in the mornings, I thought, as I poured myself a cup of coffee.

It was a short drive to the station, from where we were, to catch our train to St. Moritz. By the time we checked out of the hotel, it was nine in the morning. I stepped onto the pavement and drew in a lungful of the cold morning air. I reached the waiting car in a few short strides. I was about to get in when I heard the voice behind my shoulder, "You Ivan Lubyanov?"

I turned towards the voice. There were two of them. They were wrapped in several layers of clothing and the lower halves of their faces were concealed by thick woolen mufflers. Their hands were stuck deep in the pockets of their jackets I presumed against the cold. Their clothes looked a little worse for wear and their eyes were red rimmed, from drink or lack of sleep. I was sure I had never seen them before. As I looked at them quizzically, the man in front drew his hands from his pockets.

I barely saw the glint of metal before my vision was obscured by a wall of black. She had appeared seemingly from nowhere, her swirling limbs a soft blur. Before I had time to react, a shapely foot had landed in the man's groin and he was doubled over in pain. His friend lunged for her. She swayed out of his path and, as he tumbled forwards, off balance, she grabbed the back of his head and smashed her rising knee into his face. I heard the bone break before I saw the droplets of blood stain the freshly fallen snow on the pavement.

I was a little shaken, but it was evident that the fight had gone out of them. They were moaning piteously and rolling about on the pavement. Their hands wearing knuckledusters clutched the stricken parts -- a swollen groin and a broken nose. It looked like they would be there for a while. She was standing over them, her hands on her hips.

"Should we turn them over to the police?" she asked, now sounding a little uncertain.

"Leave them be," I said softly as I grabbed her elbow and pulled her into the waiting automobile, "I think we have done enough damage for one day."

We sat quietly during the short journey to the train station. It was a busy hour and the station was crowded. It was only when we were safely settled in our seats that she finally relaxed. The tension eased from her limbs almost visibly and she allowed herself a little smile. Despite the recent incident, she had had the good grace not to gloat and I was grateful.

As the train began to pull away, I reached across and covered her hand with mine.

"Thank you," I said, "I was wrong and you were right. ... My father was right."

"You are welcome," she replied, "Just doing my job."

She seemed almost embarrassed that I had thanked her. I could see her hesitate. She looked out of the window for a while and then turned to me quickly to add in a rush, "You know, Mr. Lubyanov, you are a good man."

"Ivan will do," I replied, grinning, "And I do try."

She had a smile that transformed her face. It was full of warmth, free of even a trace of bitterness. I wondered why I hadn't noticed it before. Well, actually, I hadn't given her much reason to smile so far. I would have to change that, I thought.

She was surprisingly easy to talk to -- intelligent, articulate and well informed. I struggled to conceal my surprise. My vision of bodyguards as muscle bound automatons who were intellectually challenged was rapidly disintegrating. Not that I had met any bodyguards before. But one acquires these prejudices rather easily.

We changed at Chur into the signature red coaches with glass roofs of the Rhaetian railway. It would take us another hour and a half to St. Moritz, through some of the most breathtaking scenery in the world. She was clearly enchanted by the view.

"Have you ever been to St. Moritz before?" I asked.

"No," she replied, "but I've always wanted to."

"I couldn't afford it before," she added softly.

We sat quietly as picture postcard Switzerland -- the Switzerland of neat farmhouses, snow clad mountains, lush meadows and lots and lots of cows -- rolled past our window. I thought I was inured by then to this beauty that I had seen so often before, but I found myself seeing it anew through her eyes and sharing her childlike delight. By the time we alighted at St. Moritz, she was beaming.

When we got to the chalet, she was all business again. The chalet was large, with six bedrooms and a slew of other rooms some of which we had forgotten the purpose for. She wandered slowly through the house, checking the doors and the windows, occasionally trying a lock or a bolt for sturdiness. It was an hour before she seemed satisfied. She claimed the bedroom next to mine. It was not the largest in the house or the best appointed, but she seemed more comfortable being close by. I didn't press the point. After the morning's incident, I was inclined to defer to her judgment.

The chalet stood in a clutch of pines, their branches weighed down by snow. It enjoyed magnificent views of the lake and the sharp uneven fangs of the mountain range in the distance. We had an early dinner on the terrace. We ate in a companionable silence that was so complete that we could hear the faint creaking of the branches springing back as the snow slid off their surface to drift to the ground.

The staff had built a fire before they left for the night and the living room was cozy and snug. She sat curled up on the sofa nursing a drink, lost in thought, as she swirled the amber liquid in her glass in slow lazy circles. I flipped open the grand piano which stood in the corner and ran a finger experimentally along the keys. It seemed to be in tune. She looked up in interest as I sat down on the piano stool and played the first few bars of the Sermon to the Birds.

"That's Liszt, isn't it?" she asked.

I must have looked surprised, so she added, "I learnt the piano for two years. I don't play any more, but I do listen to a lot of music."

"So why did you stop ... learning, I mean?"

She blushed and then replied after a momentary hesitation, "I took out my piano teacher."

"What do you mean exactly," I asked, intrigued, "that you 'took out' your piano teacher?"

"Well, I was just ten and my teacher was this cranky old fellow who would rap us on the knuckles when we made a mistake. It used to really hurt and then one day, he just hit me once too often."

"And?" I asked, afraid of the answer.

"Well, I just kind of nudged him gently in the solar plexus," she said, "and the next thing I knew he was rolling around on the floor clutching his stomach, gasping for breath and pretending he was dying. ... Well, maybe he did think he was dying. No more piano lessons after that." She concluded solemnly.

There was a moment's silence and then I ventured, "Well, I can teach you, if you like, if you promise not to nudge any part of my body with your knuckles."

She giggled at the feigned anxiety in my voice.

"I don't think that's a good idea. Your father isn't paying me to take piano lessons from his son."

"I learnt long ago," I said airily, "that what my father thinks isn't terribly important."

But she seemed to be of a different mind.

*****

The next day was bright and sunny, the reflection off the snow on the slopes almost blinding. I'm not overly fond of the town itself. It's a cluster of not particularly charming buildings and far too crowded for my taste. The ski slopes aren't very inviting either. They are only moderately difficult and in season are smothered by eager skiers. But cross country skiing in St. Moritz is a different matter. The Upper Engadine has some of the best routes in the world for cross country skiing and it is my favorite thing to do in this part of the world.




The Bodyguard



It was also something I'm good at. At the age of sixteen, I had completed the ski marathon, a grueling 42 km course running from Silverplana to Zuoz. We decided to do part of the course that day, the stretch from Pontresina to Chameusch. She seemed relieved that I was steering clear of the slopes. The prospect of spotting a potential threat in the midst of a couple of hundred bumbling skiers had obviously been troubling her. 

I discovered in the course of the morning that she was a more than tolerable cross country skier. She cramped my style a little in the beginning, but a couple of kilometers into the course, she was keeping up easily, her limbs pumping smoothly. I suddenly realized that I was following her figure with something less than detachment. She was damnably attractive. I just hadn't allowed myself to notice that, probably because so far she had been busy either taking out people or talking about taking them out.

I thought I had worn her out with that run and that, once back in the chalet, she would drop with exhaustion. Apparently, it took more than that to wear her out. The damn woman wanted to work out in the gym and dragged me along when all I wanted to do was sink into a soft couch and vegetate for the rest of the day. I yielded, however, to her importuning. She seemed to have a very persuasive way about her. I set the walker to a desultory pace and began to amble, lost in thought, my eyes fixed in the distance. I sensed her presence beside me before I heard her voice.

"Are you even breaking a sweat?"

"Do I really have to?" I protested. I was quite content with the pace I was setting, a nice slow stroll through a country lane kind of pace.

She seemed unimpressed. She poked a finger into my bicep gingerly. She appeared determined to improve me.

"So why don't we spar for a couple of rounds?"

I thought she was joking. It soon became apparent that she wasn't. My mind was filled with visions of those two rather large men rolling around in agony on a snow covered pavement.

"Yeah, right!" I guffawed, "So you can land a foot in my groin or a knee in my face."

She inclined her head thoughtfully.

"Okay," she said brightly, "then we will wrestle."

"And how is that different?" I asked suspiciously.

"No punching or kicking. Only holds, grips and throws."

That didn't sound half bad. How much damage could she possibly do with that? I thought.

"Come on," she added, "I won't hurt you."

"Okay," I yielded, "just two rounds."

We circled each other warily. Her arms hung loosely by her sides. My arms were raised, my hands at the level of my shoulders. I was struggling to call to mind every image of wrestling I had ever seen. What do those Greco roman chaps do in the Olympics? She did look temptingly open. I decided to finally test my fate and leaned forward to grab her upper arms. She rocked backwards drawing me with her. After that, everything was a blur. But for the fact that my stomach was rising into my mouth ... or was it descending since my feet were clearly in the air ... I might have even enjoyed the sense of weightlessness. When the world settled, I was on my back on the mat, my throat trapped in the crook of her arm.

She shifted her arm to give me some room to breathe, but not nearly enough for me to feel overly comfortable. I quickly decided that resistance was futile. As my body slumped in her arms, I felt her relax. My lips were trembling as I drew in a lungful of air. I was about to flash her a relieved smile when I looked up into her eyes. What I saw there froze my lips. There was a gleam in her eye that I hadn't seen before, almost feral. I felt like prey.

She held me still for a moment and then leaned forward. Everything was happening in slow motion and the gap between her lips and mine seemed unbridgeable. But I finally felt it, those lips, unbearably soft, nibbling mine. I moaned at that delicate caress and my lips parted without my willing it. She sighed with satisfaction before gently drawing my upper lip between hers. She sucked on my wet flesh softly, flicking the inside of my lip with her tongue. I was floating in a daze. What she was doing to me felt wonderful and I didn't want it to ever stop.

She slowly released my upper lip, drawing the flesh out between her teeth before turning her attention to the lower one. I relaxed against her body as she cradled me softly in the crook of her arm. I was painfully aware of her -- of the tantalizing softness of her breasts against my chest, of the few wisps of her hair which had escaped from her ponytail and were drifting lightly over my face, of her fragrance, a heady combination of sweat and musk, all woman. 

The tip of her tongue was flicking inquisitively against my teeth and I let her in. She explored my mouth leisurely, dueling with my tongue, tasting my palate, seeking my throat. When she withdrew, I followed her, mesmerized, wanting more of that gentle ravishment. When the tip of my tongue emerged shyly from between my parted lips, she captured it and softly sucked. I felt my cock throb in sympathy and I moaned.

It was as though she could read my mind. Her free hand slid into my sweat pants and her fingers curled softly around my stiffening cock. I felt a small shudder run through her as I pulsed in her palm.

"You are already hard," she groaned.

"I want to see you," she said suddenly. There was a fierce gleam in her eyes as she began to rip my clothes off in a frenzy. I didn't try to resist. It would have been useless. Besides, at that point, I didn't want to. When I was finally naked, she gently stroked my chest as though she were calming a frightened animal. She was even making soft cooing noises as she drank in the vision of my body laid out before her. It felt strange. She was fully clad and here I was, naked as the day I was born.

"You are beautiful," she whispered. There was so much hunger in her eyes. That hunger and those words made my cock jerk.

She gently hefted her flesh in my palm and began to stroke ... softly, just the way I like it, not too firmly, sliding the foreskin up and down the swollen head.

"Your skin is so soft ... and so hot," she breathed. I knew then that she wouldn't even need to stroke me to orgasm. I was sure that she could croon me to it. Her voice was swirling in my head, making me drunk. I knew I wouldn't last long. My thighs were already trembling. My hips were rocking and my ass was rising off the sheets to fuck my cock into her palm. I felt my breath quicken and my balls tighten with need. I knew it would be only moments before my cum boiled up my shaft and spat into the air. My eyes fluttered closed and my head rolled back in surrender. And then she released me ... abruptly. My eyes snapped open and I moaned.

How did she know, I wondered in panic, that this is what I wanted ... to be taken to the edge and brought back ... again and again ... that I relished her mastery over my flesh? Her eyes were pinned to my lips and she seemed to be drunk on the soft whimpering noises that leaked from my throat. And then I knew ... that what she was doing had nothing to do with what I wanted. It had everything to do with what she wanted. She wanted to drive me over the edge into desperation and to feed on my hunger.

She was cradling my balls softly in her palm ... tenderly. My eyes prickled with tears at the gentleness of that handling, the excruciating tenderness in those firm strong fingers that could rip my balls from my body and leave me bleeding. I whimpered as she rolled my balls in her palm and softly squeezed. Just before I crossed over into discomfort, she let me go. She was regarding me quietly. I was learning to anticipate her sudden shifts in mood. Another one seemed to be in the offing.

"Play with yourself," she said suddenly.

"W-what?" I stammered.

"I want to watch you play with yourself," she repeated, her voice firm, remorseless. It was as though she were saying something utterly ordinary, utterly inconsequential. She reached for my wrist and gently drew my hand towards my twitching member. I looked into her eyes. The hunger in them, the hidden entreaty made me yield. I wrapped my fingers around my cock and began to softly pump.

I had a sudden bout of shyness at displaying myself like that, at performing that act ... so private, so intimate ... for her benefit. But I also felt strangely aroused by my vulnerability. I wanted to be naked for her. I wanted to use myself until I spun out of control ... for her.

"Look at me," she said softly, "I want you to look at me while you masturbate."

That word, so brutal, so clinical, left no room for doubt as to the nature of this little scene that we were playing out, no doubt as to the violation of my privacy. She was drinking in greedily the expressions that swam across my eyes. Hers mirrored mine ... the hunger, the desire, the fear, the aching need.

She must have seen the panic that welled up from my soul, which signaled my impending release. I was on the verge of tumbling into darkness when I felt her rip my fingers off my cock and then press two fingers firmly into that spot between my balls and my anus to trap my cum inside my body. I thrashed helplessly, my cock twitching and jerking, now hungry for release. As we watched, a few drops of clear pre cum bubbled up from the tip.

"Why?" I asked, in a voice hoarse with the pain of endless waiting.

"Please ... let me cum," I pleaded.

"Shh ..." she whispered, as she pressed two fingers gently against my lips, now dry with longing, "It's okay, baby."

"At first, I wanted to watch you spurt your cream all over your body and then just now, as I looked at your swollen cock pulsing in your palm, I changed my mind. I want to taste you, Ivan ... I want the sweaty, spicy taste of you in my mouth."

I groaned helplessly. This woman was killing me.

"Will you let me, baby?" she persisted, her voice soft and wheedling, "Will you let me taste you?"

"Oh, God ... yes," I moaned. My voice didn't even sound like my own.

She shifted to kneel between my parted legs. She flattened my thighs onto the mat with her palms and leaned forward to plant a kiss on the head of my shaft, a kiss so soft, so fleeting that it felt like a breath or a summer breeze or the flutter of a moth's wing. The pink tip of her tongue emerged from her lips slowly, almost shyly, to dip into the tiny pool of pre cum that had gathered at the tip. She swirled the tip in the liquid letting the flavor settle on her tongue before gently flicking it into her mouth.

Her gentle ministrations were driving me crazy. I wanted more. I needed more. But she seemed in no mood to relent. As my hips strained upwards, she retreated, seducing me into trying harder. She raised her head to meet my gaze, now clouded with urgency.

"Come to me, baby," she whispered. And I did. My ass rose off the sheets offering her the gift of my cock. Take me, taste me, I pleaded.

When her lips closed around the soft sensitive head, I moaned. She let my ass settle on the sheets before beginning to suck ... softly ... like a baby suckling at her mother's breast. Then she released me to run her tongue in long slow swipes along the length of my shaft, wetting it with her spit. My cock was now dotted with tiny spit bubbles. When I was soaked, she slid my shaft between her lips and drove it into her throat. When her lips kissed the soft curls of my pubes, I groaned. It felt like velvet -- hot, wet velvet. I was close to cumming again. But she had an uncanny sense for when I would lose control.

She would release my cock in the nick of time, offering it a reprieve that I didn't want anymore while her tongue curled around my balls or drifted down my perineum or licked my asshole wet. By the time she had done this a few times, I was shaking. The next time she drew me into her mouth, I knew I wouldn't be able to hold out. My fingers were fluttering helplessly in her blonde locks, my arms aching from the effort not to take her head between my hands and to drive my hard throbbing cock deep into her soft throat.

"Elena ..." I breathed in a strangled whisper.

She abandoned my cock and slithered up my body.

"What, baby? ... Did I hurt you?"

"No ..." I whispered shyly, "It's just that ... you know ..."

Her eyes widened in understanding.

"Its just that you were about to cum," she finished for me, "and you wanted to warn me. That's sweet of you, Ivan."

"Have you ever cum in a woman's mouth before?" she enquired.

"No," I groaned.

"Would you like to?" Her voice had dropped an octave. It was now soft and seductive.

"Yes ..." I managed.

"Then, that's what we will do," she said, as she gently smoothed my hair back from my forehead.

She held my shaft at the base between a thumb and forefinger and engulfed the swollen knob in her mouth. She sucked softly for a few seconds before burying my cock to the root in her throat. I exploded, pouring my thick creamy cum into her waiting mouth. She swallowed noisily and then licked me clean afterwards. She seemed so singleminded, so completely absorbed while she did. When she raised her head, her lips were shining with a thin film of my release. She looked beautiful. As she kissed me, I tasted myself on her flesh. I was feeling emptied and grateful and happy and wanted her to share all of that with me.

"Elena ..." I breathed, "I want you ..."

She gently gripped my wrists and flattened my hands onto the floor.

"Not tonight, baby" she whispered, "I think you need a good night's rest."

That was all. Before I could respond, she had risen to her feet and was sashaying out of the room. I lay there drained as I watched the tight curve of her bottom swiveling deliciously under her shorts as she walked away. My earlier joy had turned to ashes. As I lay there, I felt rejected ... somehow diminished. In hindsight, I shouldn't have felt either of those things.

*****

The next morning, I was determined to set things right, to reassume control of my life. It wouldn't do to have a strange woman thrusting her hands into my trousers and then deciding whether she would put out or not. I found her in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee. I leaned against the edge of the kitchen platform at the other end of the room from her and cleared my throat meaningfully. She peered into the coffee thoughtfully for a few moments and then swiveled around to face me.

"You know ... I have thought about things a little," I started. I wished she wouldn't look at me so intently.

"I think we should lay down a few ground ... rules?" My words trailed away into nothing as she stepped towards me. She kept coming until only a couple of inches separated us. Just one more step and her soft, pliant breasts would sink into my chest. I tried one last time.

"I have a few of them written down," I said feebly, as I fished out a sheet of paper from my pocket "ground rules ... I mean." 

She calmly shifted her gaze to the paper in my hand, plucked it from my fingers, tore it in half and tossed it with an air of disdain over her shoulder. Her fingers drifted upwards to caress my cheek and then slid around my head to grab a fistful of my hair. She pulled firmly until my head was thrown back and my throat was exposed. She leaned down to calmly draw my lips into her mouth and explored me leisurely. Even after she broke the kiss, if you could call it that, her lips remained close to mine.

"You are not my employer," she whispered against my skin, "your father is. I'm responsible for your safety and as long as I'm, there is only one ground rule. You just do exactly what I tell you to do. And right now, what I want you to do is please me." 

Her confidence, bordering on arrogance, was so complete that it took my breath away.

"What does this have anything to do with my safety?" I bleated.

She eased the grip in my hair, reflected for a moment and then said, "Well, if I'm supposed to give my life to save yours and so on, it might pay to keep me happy, don't you think?"

Her hand had strayed beneath my waist. She slowly rubbed my length through the soft wool of my trousers. I was already hard.

"Mmmmm..." she whispered in my ear, "Actually, I think someone wants to make me happy ... very happy."

She suddenly released my hold on me, letting my head snap back up. She stepped backwards and began to strip, quickly, efficiently. I was speechless, both shocked and aroused by her temerity. When she began to peel the clothes off my body, I didn't stop her. I knew I was lost. She gently drew my head down to her breast, to one rosy nipple, which was already hard and puckered. As I took the swollen nub between my lips and began to suck, my eyes fluttered closed.

Her breasts were firm and perky, her nipples upturned. I drowned her nipple in the wet heat of my mouth, sucking it, licking it, nibbling it. When it was slick with spit, I bit down gently on the sensitive peak. Her body jerked and her lips parted in a soft moan. Before I turned my attention to her other nipple, I softly laved her breasts, every inch of the heaving mounds, licking them wet. By the time my lips had captured her other nipple, her breath was coming in gasps.

She gripped my hair ... hard ... and wrenched my softly sucking lips away from that juicy little morsel. Her eyes were wild, clouded with lust.

"I want those lips on my cunt," she said harshly, her voice husky with desire.

She grabbed my wrist and half dragged me into the hall. She sprawled out on the wide leather couch in the middle of the room and flung her legs apart. It was clear what she wanted. I knelt before her in supplication, my eyes drawn to the quiet perfection of her cunt -- the thick outer lips, the delicate inner ones, the pink tip of her clit peeking out of its fleshy hood and the uneven fringe of her weeping hole. It was framed by a light cloud of spun gold. I felt only gratitude then, that she was allowing me to have it.

I dipped my head and softly licked open the leaves of her cunt with my tongue. She tasted wonderful -- sweet with a touch of spice. When she had been laid open, I sucked one thick fleshy petal and rolled it in my mouth, wetting it. She moaned at the liquid sensation of her pussy flesh being drawn into my mouth. As I drew her flesh out from between my lips, I let her feel my teeth, a gentle rasping along her soaked skin. And then I turned to the other one.

Her hips were bucking gently, offering her pussy to be gently ravished. But I wasn't about to be hurried. I loved the taste of her and I couldn't get enough of it. I ran the flat of my tongue in long slow swipes along the pink engorged flesh, bathing it. I loved the tiny whimpers that escaped her mouth. That hint of helplessness was so unlike the Elena I knew. I liked this one. 

I lined up the tip of my tongue against her hole which was pulsing with eagerness and thrust forward, burying my tongue in her flesh in one fell swoop. Her back arched and she groaned at the unexpected violation. I fucked in and out of her slowly, teasing out even more of her juice. Her thighs and her mound and the crease of her ass were now slick with it. Her tight little ass was bouncing up and down on the leather impaling her flesh even deeper on my tongue. It was time, I thought, for a little diversion.

Ignoring her whispered protests, I eased my tongue out of her cunt and drifted lower to plant a tentative little kiss on the soft pink circle of her anus. Her body jerked. I didn't let up. I ran my tongue in tiny little circles around that core of darkness, licking the folds and crevices of her sphincter wet. And then I began to lave the valley between her cheeks, covering her skin in long greedy sweeps. When she was so wet that my spit had pooled in the tiny hollow of her asshole, I placed the tip of a forefinger against the ring of muscle and gently probed. I didn't want to penetrate her then, just make her aware of the possibility of it.




The Bodyguard



She became frantic. Her fingers drew the leather of the couch into sweaty clumps as she tried to swivel herself forward onto my questing finger. Her eagerness to bury my finger in her anus was revealing. I filed away that meaty little piece of information for future reference and contented myself with maintaining that fleeting contact through the roiling of her hips. She moaned in frustration. Suddenly, she couldn't endure it any longer. She tugged at my hair weakly, trying to drag me upwards along her sweat slick body.

"Come here," she said, "come here."

I obeyed and slid along her length until my face hovered over hers. My cock, erect and throbbing, came to rest against her luscious groove. My cock twitched and she shuddered as my flesh pulsed against the mouth of her cunt. She trailed her fingers through the wetness that coated my cheeks.

"I want your face to soak in my juices," she groaned, "I want you to smell of me. When we go for that little party tonight, I want the little bitches to know that you have been used, that you are going to be brought back home and used again."

I could feel her wetness seep into the skin of my cock. I was frantic to bury myself in her flesh, but used every ounce of willpower that I could muster to hold myself back. I didn't know what she wanted. And this was about her. She suddenly flipped me onto my back with her on top, my cock now trapped between her powerful thighs. The muscles in her thighs rippled as she flexed them and I almost came. She swung herself forward until her calves were on either side of my face and her pussy, wet and gleaming, was poised above my lips. I knew what was coming and I was trapped.

My eyes drank in the open flower of her pussy above me -- the pink wet meat, the succulent hole, the liquid dripping in thick strands from her slit -- and I wanted to bury my face in it. I moaned and my hips surged, fucking my cock into a phantom cunt that didn't exist.

"Please ..." I whispered hoarsely, "Please ..."

She took pity on both of us then, gently placed her palms on either side of my head and drew my face into the sodden heat of her cunt. My lips parted instinctively and I began to lick - the swollen stem of her clit, the pulsing hole of her cunt, the tempting darkness of her anus. I was drowning in wetness. She was becoming more frantic. Her thighs were trembling around my face and the movements of her hips had become ragged. She was rubbing herself over my face, her wet flesh sliding to and fro with an obscene slurping noise that inflamed my senses. 

Her head was thrown back. She was utterly absorbed in her own pleasure and no longer aware of what she was doing to me. I was finding it difficult to breathe. I could be smothered by this wet juicy cunt, I thought in a rush of panic, and she wouldn't even notice. I found myself thinking that it would be a beautiful way to go. I had to end this ... I had no choice. I swiveled my chin and captured her clit as it slid past my lips. I gently suckled it, lashing the pink tip with my tongue. She exploded. I didn't think I would ever be dry again. I was awash in her juices. Even my throat was drenched and she was beginning to drip onto my chest.

She stayed like that for a long time, her fingers twisted in my hair, her thighs jerking spasmodically as little tremors continued to rock her frame. I licked her softly, calming her, consoling her. After what seemed like an eternity, she peeled herself off my face and shifted to lie down beside me. I gathered her into my arms and held her as an occasional shudder ran through her body. I reached between her legs and tenderly cupped her pussy. It was still pulsing from that orgasm which didn't seem to end. When she was almost herself again and her eyes had fluttered open, she smiled shyly. She kissed me softly and then ran her tongue along my lips in a long wet lick, tasting her own release.

"Fuck me tonight," she whispered softly.

"I thought you would never ask," I replied.

*****

The ground was covered in a thin layer of freshly fallen snow. As we parked our car, we could hear the quiet buzz of voices. The soulful notes of an Ella Fitzgerald song filtered out of the window. It was a beautiful night, clear and sharp. I had worn a jacket and tie. It was that sort of a party. Elena looked ravishing in a gown of burgundy that swept the floor around her ankles and was slit down the front to reveal just a tantalizing glimpse of thigh. Her hair, no longer in her usual ponytail, was piled up in artful disorder on her head. It glistened in the moonlight. She delicately picked up the folds of her gown with one hand as she placed the other in the crook of my elbow. We were ready to take on the world.

She couldn't help attracting attention and nor apparently could I. For me, that was new. Did it show that we had just had earth shattering sex? Did we glow? Or the coy sidelong glances from under thick lashes, the fingers that lingered a moment longer than was necessary on my arm ... were they always there? Had I merely been too self absorbed to notice?

She seemed completely at ease in a setting that ought to have been intimidating, a setting that oozed wealth and privilege, where what you owned and who you knew mattered more than the person you were. But then, I thought, there wasn't much that fazed her. The buzz of conversation became more subdued as a slow song began to play over the speakers. A few couples strode into the middle to dance. The others watched quietly. I leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Shall we?"

She smiled, a smile warm enough even to melt the icy blue of her eyes. She placed one hand in mine and the other on my shoulder and we began to move slowly to the rhythm of the music. I didn't remember the last time I had felt so comfortable with someone. She was as tall as I was in her high heels and as we danced, her cheek snuggled against mine.

"Don't look now," she said, a smile in her voice, "but there's this girl who's been eyeing you all evening."

"Really," I said, playing along, "what does she look like?"

"Well, she's a brunette. Short but stacked. Her dress can barely keep her in."

"Hmmm ... sounds promising."

"You know, I think she would make a move," she said and then leaned closer to whisper softly in my ear, "Only she isn't sure whether we are fucking."

She squeezed my hand lightly as my body stiffened and then slid her other hand down from my shoulder along my side and over my rear.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, as her hand closed around my butt, squeezing ... once ... before returning to my shoulder.

"Just letting her know," she whispered, "The poor thing has run off now. She's probably going to diddle herself in the Ladies room, her naughty little mind inflamed by images of your naked body. Do you want me to get her for you?"

"How do you propose to do that?" I asked, amused despite myself.

"Well, I was thinking of following her and knocking her over the head with something heavy. I can then sling her over my shoulder and we can take her home and toy with her body."

I laughed.

"We?" I asked, looking down at her quizzically from under one arch eyebrow, "Dream on, sweetheart. But I must say your solutions are always elegant in their simplicity."

"Oh, well ... I try," she replied smugly, echoing words that I had spoken just ... what was it? ... the day before. It seemed like a lifetime.

"I just want you, Elena," I whispered, now serious, "Just you."

She laid her head on my shoulder to hide her blush.

"You know you can have me, Ivan."

Suddenly, I was tired of the party, this collection of people who didn't know who they were and were pretending hard to be people they weren't. I wanted to be alone with her. She was surprised when I gently drew away. I held her at arms length and silently mouthed the words, "Come with me."

She nodded her assent. Several pairs of eyes followed us, some with amusement, others with envy and yet others with a barely concealed disapproval, as we threaded our way between the dancing couples towards the door. To their mind, there was only one reason a man would drag a woman away from a dance floor in the middle of a slow song -- to fuck her brains out. I didn't care what they thought.

We were both in a hurry, but I couldn't allow myself to yield to the temptation to really open up the Mercedes SLR convertible that we were riding in. The roads were covered in a thin layer of ice and the last thing I wanted was an accident. So, we were forced to cruise at a moderate pace that was completely at odds with the fire raging in our bodies. By the time we got home, we were almost ready to claw each other naked.

I shed my clothes as I walked towards the bedroom, dropping them carelessly on the floor to form a trail that would lead to me and to what we were about to share. When I turned around, she was leaning against the doorframe still fully clad. As I raised an enquiring eyebrow, she reached upwards and slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders. It slid down her body like liquid and pooled at her feet. Her breasts were bare, her rosy pink nipples, which had swum in the wetness of my mouth earlier in the day, already hard. Was it from the cold or from anticipation of what was to come? ... I wondered.

She had a knife strapped to one thigh and a tiny silver plated automatic to the other. She never stops working, I thought. Her panties, a delicate confection of lace, was the same color as her gown. She raised one thigh elegantly, flicked open the Velcro and dropped the revolver to the floor. The knife followed. She slid her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and shimmied it down her legs. When she straightened up, she briefly hid her pussy behind her hand before uncovering it. As she glanced at me shyly from under her lashes, I understood why. Her pussy was completely bare, the soft golden flames that had framed it now gone. She looked delicious ... utterly fuckable.

"When ...?" I asked in confusion.

"When I showered ... after we made love in the morning."

"Do you like it?" she asked softly.

"I love it," I replied. But the words that were on the tip of my tongue, the words that I caught a moment before they spilled from my lips were other ones ... They were "I love you" ... That impulse took me utterly by surprise. Could you love a woman you had known only for two days? Did I love a woman I had known only for two days?

She was oblivious to the storm raging in my heart. I felt her palms, cool to the touch, flatten themselves against my chest. She pushed me gently to sit down on the bed and then leaned forward to make me lie on it. When I reached for her, she gently captured my wrists and pushed the soft mounds of her breasts into the hollows of my palms. Her nipples, sharp from arousal, dug into my flesh. Her eyes were soft with hunger. She gently pulled my hands away from her breasts and laid them by my sides.

"Be still, sweetheart," she whispered.

I followed her with my eyes as she pulled something out of her purse. It was a tube of some kind, icy blue, the color of her eyes. She squeezed the contents into her palm and then curled her fingers around my cock.

"That feels cold," I complained.

"Its just a menthol lube," she explained as she gently stroked my shaft, coating it in the liquid, "I'll soon make you warm, I promise."

Her touch was so light, like a gust of wind. I ached for something firmer ... warmer. She rose up on her knees above me, placed the tip of my cock against her juicy hole and slowly lowered herself, burying my shaft in her cunt. We both groaned at the same time. The effect was devastating. The coolness of the menthol coupled with the heat of her cunt to drive us crazy. The molten heat of her pussy scorched my flesh and the liquid sheath of menthol that covered my cock chilled hers.

She rose up again until only the swollen knob of my cock was still trapped in her cunt. The feeling was unbearable. Half my shaft was sheathed in fire and the other half in ice. She moaned softly as she lowered herself again, sliding wetly along my shaft. The soft slurping sound of my cock being slowly swallowed filled the room. She didn't seem to be able to do that anymore -- rise and fall. She plastered her body against mine and slowly rotated her hips, grinding the swollen lips of her pussy and the tender stem of her clit against my pubes.

I took her face in my hands ... tenderly ... and raised it to look into her eyes. Her eyes were clouded with lust ... with need ... for this. I traced the outline of her lips with the tip of a forefinger and then gently probed, seeking entry. She looked puzzled for a moment and then parted her lips drawing my finger into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed as she sucked softly. It looked and felt incredibly erotic, her soft lips sliding wetly up and down my digit. My cock throbbed inside the tight prison of her pussy. Maybe she could suck my finger and make me cum.

When I withdrew my finger from her mouth, she moaned softly. My hand traveled down her body to softly cup one delicious cheek of her bottom. And then, I placed my fingertip, now wet, against the mouth of her anus and pushed. She gasped and her eyes snapped open as my finger violated her tight little hole and sank into her flesh all the way to the root. As I began to slowly fuck in and out, her body began to shudder. Her mouth was open, her breath coming in little gasps. The movement of her hips had become ragged as she ground against me. I saw the panic in her eyes as she began to fall into the abyss. I placed my free hand behind her head and drew her face softly into my throat.

"Cum for me, baby," I whispered.

And she did, in long shuddering spasms that milked my cock, that threatened to tear it from the root. I didn't last long in the maelstrom of her throbbing pussy. I couldn't. My voice caught in my throat as I spurted, painting the walls of her pussy with my juice. We remained where we were, too exhausted to move. Where our bodies joined, it was warm and sticky from our combined juices trickling out of her hole. She slowly swirled her hips and we reveled in that warmth. We lay there, wrapped in silence, for a long time.

"You know," I said, "I might need protection in Oxford. The students can get pretty rowdy sometimes. And the townies ... they are an unruly bunch too ... more drunk than sober. I can think of a lot of heads that you can break."

She giggled.

"Oh, goody!" she said.

"I was thinking since I need a shadow and you seem rather good at looking after my ... umm, interests ... you would do nicely."

"I'm pleased that you think so." The smile was still in her voice.

"And you won't even have to find a place to stay," I continued, "I have my own digs at St. Giles. It's rather small of course. It might not fit a second bed. Would that be a problem?" I enquired solicitously.

She laughed.

"No, that won't be a problem."

I was grinning like a fool.

"Well, that's settled then," I said as I drew her closer. I knew then that she was mine ... for keeps.

*****

If you enjoyed this story, please spare a moment to vote. As a writer, I look forward to learning what works for you as a reader.

... fantasy



The Bodyguard



As he lay there flicking through the channels, Jason thought to himself that this was the most unusual case he had ever had in his career. Sure, he had watched out for and cared for some pretty big names in this business but this one was a first, even for him. 

Not a big name, not even a well known one. Gina Kincade was nothing more then an ordinary person really, except for her physical attributes....they were far from ordinary.

He flipped off the television and grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, slipped out the sliding glass door, careful to leave it open just a crack behind him. It was so hot, in this August weather; he was starting to sweat already. Taking a long gulp from the bottle, he lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall.

His watchful eye saw the man in the parking lot of the condo; he watched him for a minute, determined he was no threat and moved on. The old lady walking her dog down the block did not even catch more then a glance. Scanning the area he decided all was secure, figuring perhaps it was just too damn hot for many people to bother coming out tonight, even a stalker. 

This was the fourth place they had taken her and he was the third man on the job, their best this time. It was getting to be too much. He was worried they had a leak on the inside. The damn jerk always managed to find her, slipping notes under the door of her location no matter where they were. The other two guys that had this job before him just couldn't handle it, and he could see why.

Drawing deep on his cigarette, he held his breath for a moment and then exhaled loudly. From the corner of his eye he could see a light in her bedroom, through the crack in the curtains. Damn woman! He had told her to shut them tight.

Leaning slightly to the left he realized he could see straight into her room where she lay on the bed, covered only by a thin sheet. The outline of her body was as clear as if the sheet did not exist.

Knowing it was wrong, and he could get himself fired for it, he moved closer to the window as she rolled towards him in her sleep. The sheet had slipped down when she moved, revealing the most perfect set of pale, soft looking round globes his eyes had ever seen. 

He just stood there, marvelling at the way the soft light from the bedside table only enhanced his view. Feeling himself begin to think things he defiantly shouldn't he turned away. As he did he noticed she had her window open just a little as well. Holy Christ! Does this woman ever do what she is told?? 

Stomping out his cigarette he opened the sliding door and was just about to go back inside when he heard a noise....it sounded almost like an animal in pain. Moving quickly to her bedroom door he called out to her "Gina, is everything ok?" His answer was silence. 

Shrugging his shoulders, figuring it must have been a cat, in heat outside, he plopped back down on the couch, turned on the television and began to channel surf again. How he hated the night shift, sometimes it could be so damn long. 

Within seconds the sound came again. He flipped off the television and went back to the sliding door, which in his haste the first time had left wide open. Looking around, he could not see shit through the screen door, he stepped out again almost slamming it behind him. 

Scanning the area once more his eyes came to rest on the barest movement in some bushes about 10 feet away. Glancing back at the open door and the curtain parted beside it, he trotted over to the bushes, moving slowly as he got closer. Two cats darted out from it as he jumped in grabbing nothing but air as he landed hard.

"Shit!" Getting up and dusting himself off he looked around; glad no one was around to see his stupidity. Quickly making his way back to the open door of the unit he thought again about leaving this job, the shit just was not worth it.

Just as he was about the go back into the condo, the sound, more like a moan now, came again, but this time he was able to clearly hear it coming through the open window of the bedroom. He hesitated for just a moment, thinking if he didn't look, she could be in some danger and it was his ass on the line as well as her life. If he looked, he just might see that voluptuous body again, with those absolutely perfect boobs. Sighing, he peaked through the window, seeing her once more on the bed, the sheet completely off this time. She was alone, thankfully.

He was just about to move away when he noticed, yes, she was alone, but she was moaning in some sort of pleasure apparently. Obviously enjoying a nice dream he thought. He could not help himself. He knew he should walk away, he should not continue to look at her, but her curvaceous body, long dark auburn hair spread out on the pillow around her, and those long legs, with their perfectly painted toes at the end of them, the combination stopped him. She was just so damn hot, no wonder she had stalkers! 

Feeling himself begin to grow hard at her simple moaning, knowing in his gut that she must truly be enjoying something, he moved just an inch to make himself a little more comfortable and as he did she moved also. Her hand had slid down between her legs and she was moving it about ever so gently. 

Oh shit, now he was hooked, he could not move away even if he wanted to, she would hear him. She was now most defiantly no longer dreaming, but awake and had decided to continue whatever had begun the moaning in her dream.

As he watched, like the stalker he was sworn to protect her from, she opened her legs to allow her hand easier access. He had a perfect view of those pink, glistening lips as she continued to rub her clit with one perfectly manicured finger. He watched as that red tipped finger dipped lower and finally went into that glorious pussy. Holy Christ, this was enough to make a man mad! Watching her like this he felt more like a "Peeping Tom" then a bodyguard! This was not in his job description, but here he was....

Her moaning had increased to quite a loud level; he was beginning to wonder if the neighbours would hear her. Knowing he would lose his job, probably ending his career entirely if he was caught, he just could not tear himself away from the damn window and the extremely hot scene happening behind those curtains!

He saw her begin to move that finger faster over her clit, dipping it in and out of her, now dripping wet pussy, over and over it went in...but she was getting so obviously frustrated. With almost a growl from her lips, she reached into the drawer beside the bed and produced a silver, bullet shaped vibrator. Turning the speed on high she put the vibrator to the very tip of her clit, jumping a little when it touched her...another very audible moan came from her. His jeans were beginning to feel almost constrictive.

Rubbing the vibrator over her clit a few times, dipping it in her wet pussy just a little to help it glide she began to almost pant as her orgasm drew nearer. He watched as that little silver bullet flew over her clit and she arched her back as her orgasm finally began. 

Undoing two of the buttons on his jeans to relieve some of the pressure he continued to watch her as she came from the pleasure in that little silver shaft. He could see clearly as the lips of her pussy opened and closed with each contraction of her orgasm, her back arched and giving him a glimpse of her luscious ass as well. Oh god he was so close to blowing his load just from watching this perfect creature as she pleasured herself. How he would just about kill to be in that room right about now, job or no job, it was almost worth losing just to watch this!

With little fear that she would see him now, Jason almost ran into the condo, through the living room and flung open the door to her room. "Gina...?" 

Looking over in his direction, her eyes still glazed from the nice little orgasm she had just had, vibrator, still now, but in her hand resting on the bed. "Yes Jason?" she purred at him. 

"I heard noises.." he stammered "are you ok? Is there something you need?" "Yes Jason. I am alright." Her voice alone was almost enough to bring him to his knees at this point. 

" Oh, ok." He began to close the door; cursing himself for even thinking...after watching her he was obviously not in his right mind. She could have any man she wanted and although he was quite confident that his appearance was by no means shabby..., what in the hell made him run in there like that???

"Jason...., I do actually need something." Her voice stopped him cold. He looked across the room at her, seeing her crystal blue eyes looking directly at him. Her body lying on the bed uncovered, glistening with sweat, both from the heat of the night and from her little adventure with herself.

His cock was still rock solid in his jeans, the buttons still undone, he looked at her, thinking he must be nuts. She was not really asking....he must be imagining it. 

As her pink tongue slipped over her lips, bringing them a bit of moisture she gave him a knowing look. "May I have some water?" 

His heart beating quickly he knew now that she had seen him at the window, known he was there watching her ...and now she wanted water??? This woman is so annoying! 

Here he was, hard as a rock, ready to do her bidding...anything she asked, especially after her little show. She was still laying on the bed, perfectly naked, legs slightly spread so he could see just the littlest hint of pink and a portion of her tight little round ass... and she wanted water?

With a little laugh she looked at him, "Jason?" 

Leaving the door open the few inches he walked quickly away. Going to the refrigerator he opened it almost angrily and grabbed a bottle of water. Women! Damn things can get a man in so much trouble! Now he knew he was defiantly leaving this job. In fact, he thought, I ain't waiting till the morning shift arrives neither! He was angry now, at himself, not her. 

He was the company's best man... he knew better, she was a very difficult job his co-workers had warned him but he had never failed a job. Grabbing his cell phone he began to dial his boss's number. 

Pete, while also his best friend, was his boss and the owner of the protective services company that he worked for, and was very implicit and stern on the rules his employees followed. They were for his protection and the protection of the clients, but most importantly, the protection of the business. Under no circumstances whatsoever were those rules to ever be broken. Jason knew he had really fucked up this time..and for what? A glimpse of the hottest chick this side of the border playing with herself? He and Pete had just been discussing the possibility of a partnership between the two of them. Shit!

As he heard the phone begin to ring on the other end, he felt Gina's hands slide up his tight back. "Hang up the phone Jason."

His hand automatically snapped the lid closed on the phone as he felt her behind him. He could tell she was still naked as her perfect boobs pressed into his back and her hands continued to wander around his stomach to his jeans and his cock, only slightly hard now.

Her breath in his hair at the back of his neck was making him hot all over again, his cock began to harden again very quickly this time. So quickly it actually hurt him. 

He spun around and grabbed her wrists. "Gina." He warned her, the threat very obvious in the tone of his voice. 

She gave him such a longing look; he almost melted there and then. Holding her wrists tightly he started to push her away from him, she twisted suddenly and her ass was then at a level with his cock, her arms now wrapped around herself with his hugging her.

She rubbed her tight ass up and down a little, moving in such a way that the friction of his jeans against his hard, throbbing cock send little electric shocks through him. Making him almost lose his mind with the pleasure she was causing him with her little movements.

"Gina, you do not want to do that. I'm supposed to protect you. My job is...."

"Jason, I need your hard cock to fuck me."

Holy shit! Screw the job, he thought, I can't handle this one!

Without warning Jason pushed her against the edge of the counter, bending her face down so that her cheek rested on the cold marble top. Releasing his rock solid cock from his jeans, he roughly entered her pussy. She was quite wet, amazingly, and so damn warm and tight. It was all he could do not to cum at that very moment.

"Jason, please" she moaned.

Grabbing the back of her neck and holding her down with his other hand on her back he started slamming his hard cock into her. Not even caring so much now if he hurt her, she had asked for this, he was only human. A man could only take so much!

"You want my cock bitch, well now you are going to get it!" Jason growled in her ear, as he continued his assault on her throbbing pussy. Over and over he pulled his cock from her, slamming it back in hard every time. She had driven him nuts with her playing, whether she knew it or not, and now it was his turn.

"Do you like that hard cock Gina?" he demanded of her, squeezing her neck a little when she did not answer him. "Yesssssss.." She moaned in response, very obviously enjoying his rough manor. 

He suddenly pulled out of her, his cock throbbing, dripping her juices from the tip. 

Looking back at him, watching him attempt to contain himself, she emitted a long low grumbling chuckle. "Am I too much for you Jason."

His anger at himself had now turned into a sexual need to have her, to own her. He was raging with the feeling of wanting to fuck her so hard she would beg for more, or maybe beg him to stop. Jason was absolutely beyond reality now. He was hot, he was intoxicated by the smell of her on him. He needed to have more of her! He was running on pure male animal lust now, and it was damn dangerous.

Feeling a heat come over him that had nothing to do with the temperature outside he began to sweat with uncontrollable urge. The effort to restrain himself was almost killing him.

Her chuckle seemed only to add to his already heightened mood, as he looked over her body, bent over the counter, legs spread wide and that ass, that perfect round, tight ass. He was almost drooling at the thoughts going through his mind. Even he was surprised at how much he wanted her... how he wanted her.

He smacked her ass, hard...waiting with baited breath to see if she would complain, if she would struggle at the new turn of force. She didn't. Much to his amazement, she actually moaned in pleasure. Watching that perfect little butt cheek turn a slight shade of pink was almost his undoing. He smacked her again, a little harder this time. 

His hand cupped around her pussy and feeling the wetness of her, how excited she was, he entered her with two of his fingers. He began massaging her clit with his thumb as his fingers sought out and found her g-spot. 

Moaning and moving against his hand, she turned to him. "Jason, please." she begged him with her eyes. Eyes that were shining with unspent tears from the sting of the spanking. He knew she was still enjoying herself though, as her pussy was literally soaking his hand. She was ready for him.

Grabbing his hard cock, as he continued to rub her clit with his other hand, he placed the head of it against that tight ass. Pushing just a little at it's opening. 

He was hesitant at first, waiting, trying to give her time to get used to his hardness in her tight ass. Pushing himself into her little by little, each time pulling back out. His cock went deeper and deeper into her tight ass with each thrust. She was so tight; the head of his cock was almost bursting. It felt as if a bit of skin were being ripped from him each time he entered her. 

The deeper he went into her hot tight ass, the more wetness he felt on the hand cupping her pussy as he continued to play with her clit. 

Moving faster now as Gina began to moan loudly, he was fucking her ass still gently at first, but the with increasing speed, the force just came naturally to him. Both of them were breathing very heavily, sweating, moaning with pleasure and unspent need, desire to fuck like animals.

Throwing all caution to the wind he grabbed her by the back of the neck and forced her to her knees on the floor. Still holding her neck tight, with her small round ass high in the air, he entered her ass again, this time hard, fast, and with force. He was on instinct alone now as he fucked her ass, slamming into her as hard as he could, feeling his cock about ready to burst. 

"JASON!" Gina screamed, as she came, her body shuddering, muscles stiffening as she arched her back. 

Hearing her call his name just about caused him to go over the edge. Jason continued to fuck her ass, more turned on then ever, until her body began to stop the shuddering and contracting it was doing from her pleasure. He could not tolerate anymore, her ass was so sweet, so tight. He pulled his cock out of her ass and spilled his hot cum all over her back, with a loud yell. 

He had never, in his life, ever felt such intense pleasure in anything like he did at this moment. He was amazed as he looked down to see that his cum on her back had made her cum again also. 

This was one hell of an erotic woman who knew just how to get what she wanted, and he could not wait to have her again. Could not wait to see what next time would bring...