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His Eyes

By: Bethyboo



His Eyes. They watch my every move. Testing him, to see if he really is watching, I turn my back and take a deep breath. The sounds of the crowded room disappear as my heart pounds in my ears. I unbutton three buttons with trembling fingers and turn around. My ample cleavage on display, heaving with every breath I take. The edges of my black lacy bra clearly displayed as it hugs the curves.

I dare to glance up, and yes, I can feel the heat of his gaze, it penetrates my flesh and I shudder as a familiar tingle ripples along my spine. Why is he watching me? I think about the reflection I saw in the mirror as I was getting dressed. Nothing spectacular or outstanding. My hips too narrow for my waist, my ass like that of a young boys, not much flesh to grab hold of back there. My heaving breasts, well, maybe those are note worthy.

Shuffling my feet, I turn away again and climb up on the bar stool. Pulling my short skirt higher on my thighs, letting the top edge of the stockings peek out, parting my legs I swivel and stare back at him. His eyes drop briefly to the dark shadow of the vee at the top of my thighs. But return to burn once again into my sparkling blue orbs.

Giving myself a shake, both visibly and emotionally, I frown and turn away ordering a drink. Gulping the drink, my 4th of the evening, I steal a glance over my shoulder and am surprised and disappointed to find that he is gone. Scanning the crowded bar, wondering at where this man has gone and finding myself vaguely annoyed. 

Sighing softly, as I realize that not one other person has so much as noticed that I am nearly topless, I make my way to the ladies room to relieve myself of the 4 drinks that weigh heavily on my bladder. The noise is less here in the corridor and I am concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other without toppling off my too many inches heels.

I feel a brush of movement along my neck as I am wrenched backwards by my hair. A hand is stuffed into my open, ready to scream mouth and I am propelled backwards into a utility closet. There is no light here and my assailant holds me still, his hard body pressed tightly to mine. I can hear the rush of blood in my veins and feel his hot breath on my neck. His hand still stuffed into my mouth, his wiggling fingers, reaching into my throat make me gag.

A soft chuckle as he pushes further into my throat, my throat muscles rebelling at the assault, retching, my body shaking. His hand in my hair pulling my head backwards and I can feel the flow of hot tears tumbling over my cheeks.

He pushes me forward and whispers, don't make a sound...not a peep. Fear settles into my bones as my body shakes uncontrollably. He pulls his hand from my mouth and uses his body weight to pin me against the door, his cock roughly grinding to my ass. He grabs my hands and pulls them over my head, still using his body to pin me, my breasts mashed to the door, my hip bones painfully crushed on the solid steel. I feel the tightening noose on my wrists and suck a breath over tightly clenched teeth. The loop on my wrists tightens and pulls me to the tips of my toes, barely able to keep my balance.

Whimpering as the pressure on my belly increases, the need to pee becoming more urgent than my precarious predicament, I open my mouth and start to explain and feel a cold blade on my neck, he whispers, "Not a sound...shhhhhhhh!" The blade slips in front of me and he pulls me away from the door, cuts off the remaining two buttons and my shirt falls open. The blade, cold and foreign against my skin cuts my bra in half, my heaving heavy breasts tumble forward, nipples rubbing on the cold of the door, instantly turning them to swollen hard pebbles.

His hand grabs my hair and twists my head around so that his lips can claim mine. Hard bruising kiss, meant to punish, to turn his victim to liquid fear. It works and maybe a little too well, as the hot rush of urine explodes from my bladder, pouring, gushing from my urethra, drenching my poor excuse for panties and soaking into my stockings. Groaning, low in my throat, the humiliation of pissing in my panties out weighing this mans assault on my body, I whimper, "Sorry, sorry, sorry..." Only stopping my mantra as the cold steel lays itself on my nipple and he says "Shhhhhhhhh, its just piss, it's ok, I don't mind at all."

Quiet whimpers as he kneels behind me and cuts the wet panties from me, leaving my ass bared, my pussy wet and not just from the piss. My traitorous body is responding to the indignities of this man. I hear the flick of a lighter and the soft glow of a candle burns into my eyes. "I want to see your cunt." he mumbles and I can feel the heat of the flame as he examines me. His fingers pushing my lips wide, his thumb rubbing my clit bringing it to life, he teases it from its hood, making it swell and throb. His fingers working me over, expertly manipulating my clit, two fingers thrust inside my now dripping cunt, rubbing at my most sensitive of spots. 

Moaning softly, biting into the flesh of my upper arm, to stop the sounds of pleasure, trying to deny even to myself that my body is loving this. I writhe on his impaling fingers, muscles gripping his probing digits, trying to suck them into my needy hole. Hips undulating as I purposefully rub my nipples on the cold door. A new kind of pressure starts to build in my belly, one that will not be ignored or denied.

His hand still stuffed deep inside me, I can hear and feel him fumbling with his pants and as he frees his cock it presses to my ass cheek. He pushes it into the crack of my ass and humps at me, his body pushing me to the door as his fingers continue to fuck my pouring pussy.

His lips on my ear, his teeth nip at my earlobe as he whispers, "This is going to hurt, but don't you dare scream." With that he kicks my feet wide apart, pushes four fingers roughly into my cunt as his thumb rubs harder and faster on my clit. Sighing softly, thinking to myself, that doesn't hurt, omg...it feels amazing, my body prepares itself for release. The flush of heat, the goosebumps and the sweet flood of juices into my passage...so close, so ready....

The pain sears into me, hot and white, making every muscle in my body constrict, unable to even breathe...he thrusts his hard thick cock into my unprepared ass ...one long continuous stroke, forcing into my tight back door...a cold sweat breaks out on my flesh as the pain slices through me. Too shocked to even try to scream, salty tears flowing into my open mouth, shaking and trying to move forward, escape the monstrous rod that has ripped my ass open.

He stays fully thrust into my ass, his only movement the wriggling of fingers, his thumb on my swollen and throbbing clit. His thick cock holding my ass wide, buried deep in my bowels. The pain lessens, my cunt spasming on the fingers, my clit so tight and engorged with blood that it feels ready to split open. His free hand caresses my cheek, feeling the tears, he pulls his hand back and I can hear him licking the salty wet. His hand moves to my breast, squeezing and kneading before finding my nipple, rolling it, tweaking it. 

Moaning, I can't hold back, my body takes over and as the orgasm hits, his cock starts to fuck my ass, hard long strokes. It drives me repeatedly into the door, hammering into me as my body cums. Shuddering, shaking squirting sweet girl cum, it bathes his hand, soaks into my piss drenched stockings. He grunts in my ear and adds his cum to the mix...it shoots into my ass and squelches out as his cock continues to fuck me into oblivion. Panting, too weak to hold myself up, I am suspended by my wrists and his cock.

He pulls his hand from my pussy and offers his wet fingers to my lips, I instantly start licking and sucking the sweetness from them. He releases my arms and pulls me backwards into an embrace, holding me tight against him. He whispers soothing words into my ear, his hot breath fanning over my cheek.

Turning me quickly, he kisses me, breathing life back into my limbs. I can see His eyes, Those Eyes, sparkling in the candlelight as he smiles at me.

"So, how about a date, let me take you to a late dinner, I am starving?" he chuckles as he asks the question...and I can only nod my acceptance. As I lose myself in his eyes.

His Eyes Adored Her



The man and woman at the corner table in the hotel dining room were clearly arguing. The man's swarthy face showed some exasperation as he waved a finger in the air. The woman, with tawny, shoulder length hair, and slender from Dan's rear view, pointed an occasional finger as she responded. They were clearly talking in low tones since they attracted no attention from nearer tables.

Dan Tiernan turned away, not interested in the troubles of others. He was still trying to decide whether this two week break in Riva, Lake Garda, had been such a good idea. It had been his elder sister, Anna, who had talked him into it. Practically forced him into it, having bought the flight, and booked a single room in the hotel.

"You need a break. It's been two years now, Dan," she'd said. "You can't go on grieving forever. Carol wouldn't have wished that on you." Three years his senior, his sister had attempted an encouraging smile, as she added, "You might get an idea for your next novel."

The very idea of Carol's wishes had stung him. He missed her so much. Ever since that awful day he had found it impossible to talk about her or the accident, even to those closest to him. For months afterwards his mind had been full of how cruel life could be. Married for six exciting years, and talking about putting their mutual passion for each other to more than just pleasure, by starting a family, all of that had suddenly been smashed away.

Although Anna was not aware of it, Dan had, over recent months, tried to shake himself out of his sorrowful state. On separate occasions, two friends of Carol's, both divorcees, had offered to ease, in the first lady's case, 'his pain', and in the second, 'his natural frustrations.' In both cases there had been a vague agreement that the occasion was only to be a one off, but, Dan sensed that his being a rising author might have been high in their sympathetic offers.

Dan was well aware that his libido was still operating, having woken up with a rigid erection more than once. Each of those occasions had left him feeling sad, very lonely, and needing a cold shower. So any attempt to tackle the problem had some appeal after fifteen months or so.

The first lady, whose name was Louise, invited him for a coffee one Saturday afternoon. After only a few minutes of idle chat she was sitting beside him, then she was touching his arm. Soon they were kissing, and Dan was aware of her rather lumpy figure under her dress. Despite that, within the half hour, Louise, having made her declaration of easing his pain, lay naked beside him on her bed. 

Naked, she was singularly loose fleshed and unattractive, and Dan played desultory homage to her hefty, but sagging breasts, knowing for sure that his penis was not going to react in any way. But that was mainly because she had mentioned Carol too many times. He left the lady with his profound apologies.

His second encounter, Fran, a dark haired lady, who Dan had always found most attractive, with her slim figure, wide eyes and full generous mouth. Just how generous he was to find out on the day after his thirty second birthday, when she arrived at his front door, bearing a bottle of malt whiskey as a gift. Very grateful, Dan had immediately opened the bottle and they'd sipped at a tot each, talked, during which Fran got around to his natural frustrations.

Within seconds they were kissing, and she was twisting her body to urge his hand to cover her breast. When bed became the obvious next step, Dan was careful to avoid the main bedroom, Carol's domain, and soon they were naked together on the bed in the second bedroom. Dan found some pleasure in fondling Fran's hand-sized breasts, and in letting his fingers discover the moistness between her thighs, almost desperately keeping his mind away from the last time he had been this far with a woman. 

Just a little anxious at how his own body might react he was relieved to find that under the ministrations of Fran's fingers, and that generous mouth as it played over and around his penis, his erection was very quickly up to near full intensity. But, as she released it from her mouth, and parted eager thighs to draw him into her, she murmured, "Carol was so lucky." 

With his penis head touching at her labia, the collapse was almost instant, one second erect the next, flaccid. Dan was shocked, but maybe not as much as Fran, who gasped, moaned and gripped and tugged frantically at his limp member- nothing. As a kind of apology he was able to bring her to a secondary climax using his fingers. And then, once again, it was a case of 'Sorry and goodbye.' 

Just yesterday, saying farewell at the airport, Anna had whispered, "You never know you might meet some gorgeous Italian lady." Dan could not imagine anything like that happening. But he was here, it was eight fifteen and the mountains, visible through the open window and beyond the tall palm trees, were bright in the morning sunshine, as he ate his breakfast. He had made no real plans about how he would spend his days, but with two weeks ahead of him he felt he had plenty of time.

Breakfast over he took a stroll down to the ferry terminal in the centre of town armed with his camera, and his notebook. The long low ferry afforded a pleasant ride over the waters of Lake Garda. He went ashore at the first stop, the village of Limone, which took its name from the once thriving lemon industry that had operated in the area. Dan saw many tourist- tempting artefacts relating to that industry. He took many photographs and decided he would text Anna to let her know that he was already more relaxed.

A small pizzeria took his eye, its brightly coloured frontage, and the smiling faces of the people sitting at tables outside, enjoying the sunshine tempted him into taking a couple of shots from different angles. Then, wanting to be part of it, he went and sat at one of the tables. In no time he was tucking into a delicious pizza, and downing a refreshingly cool beer.

Dan was reaching for his notebook when he noticed a couple sitting close together at a table on the other side of the patio. It was the man's swarthy face that he noticed. Was it the guy he'd seen in the dining room that morning? No, it couldn't be. The lady whose shoulder he was stroking, whose black hair he occasionally nuzzled, proved that. His companion in the hotel had hair the colour of a lioness. 

As he watched, the pair stood, and the man in a red and white sports shirt, put his arm around her and they walked off down the street. In other circumstances Dan might have felt quite envious. The lady was quite a beauty in a low cut blouse that suggested warm curves underneath.

Dan made a few notes, about the general bustling streets around him. Then he continued his stroll, before heading back to the ferry. Back at the hotel he treated himself to a cool shower. The intense heat on his first day he found had enervated him, and naked, he lay back on the bed. 

Carol, with that so beloved calculating smile she adopted at such teasing moments, was standing naked over him, as she stooped slightly to stroke at his scrotum. Then, one of her favourite little tricks, as his penis rose in response, she swooped her head down and enveloped it into her warm mouth. 

Her long black hair flared over his groin. Dan, in ecstasy, reached for her delightfully pert breasts, but somehow they were out of reach. But they couldn't be. She was attending to him from the side, her mouth sucking with that so familiar keen gentility. Her breasts were close to hand, within touching distance surely. Yet every time he reached for them he failed to make contact. 

He twisted his body in another vain attempt, and the mouth was gone from his erection. Carol was gone. He was alone, in a bed in his hotel room. The dream was over, yet, as he looked down he saw that his erection remained, although, even as he looked it became less tumescent, quickly collapsing. A tear ran down his cheek. Was this teasing all that remained for him? 

Dressed in pale blue pants and a dark blue shirt he went down to the dining hall. As soon as he entered, he glanced towards the corner table. The couple were there as before, and great heavens, they were arguing again. Tawny hair tossed as the lady with her back to him responded to something her partner had said. Allowing himself a wry smile, Dan had little doubt what the argument was about. For the swarthy faced man was still wearing the red and white sports shirt he had been wearing for his amorous meeting with the dark haired lady.

Material for a story? Maybe, but, what the hell business was it of his? He had decided, since he was in Italy, to eat Italian that night. So, he enjoyed a vegetable minestrone soup, followed by a most succulent lasagne like he had never tasted before. A glass of fine Italian red washed it all down.

Just as he was finishing, the scraping of a chair drew his attention back to the corner table. Swarthy face was on his feet, looking angry, and, with an contemptuous gesture in the face of the woman, he strode out of the dining hall. One or two heads had turned this time, and some comments were exchanged at tables close to the corner. The tawny haired woman remained seated, straight backed in her pale blue summer dress.

Dan, knowing what he did, couldn't help feeling a little sorry for her, but then, he reminded himself that he knew nothing about the full circumstances. The woman reached into a small handbag, to produce a handkerchief or tissue which she dabbed at her face. Waiters were taking orders for dessert, and, when one approached the woman, her head shook. But she said something and the waiter nodded. Then, she very quickly gathered up her bag and stood to leave.

This was Dan's first frontal view of her, and his breath immediately caught up in his throat. A delicate featured face, with wide eyes and warm M shaped mouth, which he guessed hid a lovely smile. Her blue dress might have been painted on her as it clung to gently rising breasts, and the curves at waist and hip. Looking to neither left nor right, she walked determinedly out of the room.

Dan sat there utterly stunned by the vision he had just observed. He had started breathing again, but not easily. No woman had struck him so forcefully since--since—Yes, since then. God, there had even been a twitching in his groin, and, guiltily, he was thinking that was disloyal to Carol. The feeling was far removed from his two casual attempts at release earlier in the year. This unfamiliar sensation was the result of looking at one particular woman, and Dan found himself wanting to know her better.

As he rose to leave the dining room, his mind was in a quandary. If she was married, there was little he could do but admire her from afar. But if what he had so far witnessed was just a lovers' tiff, then there could be a way in. The reactions she had aroused in him just could not be ignored.

Passing through to the main hallway, a deep voice behind him guffawed, "How about that then?"

Turning, he saw a rotund man possibly in his fifties, with just a rim of grey hair around an otherwise bald head. He was grinning delightedly.

"Pardon me?" Dan said, annoyed by the disruption to his thoughts.

"That little domestic scene back there. Not often you see that on holiday."

Dan didn't say it, but thought that you were more than likely to see it on holiday, if it wasn't going well. "I don't even know if they're married," Dan said, trying to put on a couldn't care less attitude, but nevertheless testing for information. What he heard next did not please him at all.

"Oh, they're married, all right. I had a long talk with the guy on the coach from the airport. Name's Bodecker, been married three years, and he's in the same business as me."

"Oh?" Was all Dan could manage while hiding his disappointment.

"Both in financial consulting, we had a lot to talk about," his informant said, looking more closely at Dan. "What's your line?" 

Dan hated this kind of probing conversation. "I write."

"Journalist?"

"Novelist."

The man looked more closely at Dan. "Yes, I thought--your face—you're Dan—Dan--"

Dan confirmed his full name, trying not to show his irritation.

"That's it. I knew. Hell, my wife's reading your book right now. Your picture's on the back cover. Would you wait there just a second. Must get her."

At the entrance to the dining hall the man stopped, turned back with a sly smile and said, "Mind, keep your hands off her. I've heard how you writers get to women."

When Dan met his inquisitor's wife he could have reassured him that he was perfectly safe. In her mid fifties, with peroxide hair, she ploughed towards him, her mighty bosom jutting in front of her, like a galleon in full sail.

He spent an uncomfortable ten minutes in their gushing company, and was only able to get away by promising to sign her copy of his book. Relieved he wandered out onto the terrace, seeking time to put his thoughts together, even though his hopes had already been shot. She was married.

Out on the terrace, several tables were occupied with pairs and groups sipping at their drinks and talking happily. And there she was, all alone, a cup of coffee in front of her. Dan was transfixed for a moment, unable to take his eyes off her. She was even more beautiful than his initial impression. High cheek bones, pert nose, little make up. For a brief second her eyes turned to him, and he looked hastily away, before moving quickly off the terrace, out into the gardens, which were richly green and cooling in the evening light.

Blue eyes, she had blue eyes. Why did that delight him? For one thing it meant that it could not be a resemblance to Carol that had attracted him. Apart from different hair colour, Carol's eyes had been green and her face had been much rounder. So the effect this lady had upon him was genuine, yet sadly, she was out of reach. 

Out of reach she might have been, but she was certainly not out of mind. For the rest of the evening, Dan sat in a lakeside bar sipping at a beer, watching the world go by, and thinking about her, and the effect she had had on him. In bed that night he dreamed that Carol, fully clothed was standing near him, looking at him with eyes so vividly green. Just behind her, and slightly to one side another woman stood, less clear, but with such blue eyes that looked from Carol to him, and back again.

Dan awoke the following morning feeling strangely sad. However, an early breakfast was due prior to a coach trip into the Dolomites. The corner table was empty, which caused him some concern, but maybe she was booked on the same trip, and he'd be able to feast his eyes on her all day. But she wasn't on the trip.

Still she remained on his mind, as the coach wound its way up and around tortuous hairpin bends, and between impressive rock faces. A cable car took him and fellow tourists up to where snow still lingered in spite of the strong sunshine. The view was amazing, and below Dan could see the road they had travelled. It was as twisted and turned as his own mind at this time. Why had this woman, who he only knew as Mrs Bodecker, lodged so firmly inside his head? He had been captivated by her beauty, when, maybe, she could be a total bitch. 

He could not allow himself to think that, and by the time he had returned to the hotel had resolved to take steps that might at least clarify the situation for him. The main evening dinner was over and Dan ate in a fairly quiet dining hall, not surprised that the corner table was deserted.

Afterwards, with a lightning storm forecast, he decided he'd spend some time in the comfortable lounge with a beer and his book. But first came that enquiry at reception.

The receptionist, a slim Italian who spoke impeccable English, frowned slightly as Dan made his request. "Can you tell me, is Mr Bodecker still in the hotel?"

Despite the frown the receptionist's response was almost immediate, without reference to any computer screen. "No, Mr Bodecker checked out yesterday. He left no forwarding address." A slight pause before he added, "Of course, Mrs Bodecker is still here. Is there-?"

"No, that will be fine. Thanks for your help."

"Prego, Mr Tiernan."

Uncertain of what that information told him, Dan went into the lounge just across from reception, ordered a beer and sat in one of the white leather easy chairs. Outside a rising wind was bending the low shrubs and palms. Book open, he just couldn't read. What further steps could he take now? Was it fair to assume that Mr and Mrs Bodecker were breaking up? Certainly he had seen evidence of Bodecker's two timing.

"Mr Tiernan, is it?"

The gentle female voice surprised him, and glancing up he was immediately on his feet. She was there, next to him, blue eyes fixed on him, mouth more taut than he had seen it. But she was close enough for him to catch the aroma of lavender from her. 

Almost adolescent-like he stammered, "Y-yes, I'm Dan Tiernan."

He was a head taller than her and looking down he was treated to the slight cleavage that her orange dress afforded. She was delectable. Oh, for this moment to last. But how had this joyful meeting happened? It didn't take long for him to find out.

The eyes were now more like flints, as she said, "The receptionist tells me that you have been enquiring about my husband."

Dan was uncertain how he was going to respond to this. All he could admit was, "Yes, I did ask about him?"

"Why?" The question was blunt .

Dan didn't know what he could say. He had not expected his basic query to reach her ears. Oh, just tell her how you were overcome by her wonderful looks.

While he fumbled for an answer, she had another question, "Did you know my husband?"

Dan shook his head, "No, I only--"

"You're a writer, I understand?"

God, even slightly aggressive she looked delicious. "That is correct."

A pink tongue licked at her lips before they tightened and she said, "Yes, I thought so. Well, may I just ask you to mind your own goddam business?"

With a final glare at him, she turned and walked away.

"But-" That was all that Dan could manage. He had just encountered a lightning storm of his own. She went out of sight and Dan just knew that this was all set to be a frustrating two weeks. A lost love to grieve over, and now, the nearness of this lady to disturb him every day.

By the next morning, he had relaxed a little and made his mind up to make the most of his time in Riva. Then, of course, at breakfast, she was there at the corner table, only this time, she sat facing out into the dining room, and for a brief second their eyes met as Dan entered. Blue eyes, such blue eyes, and Dan, having already felt that catch in his breathing at the sight of her, cursed himself that his efforts not to be bothered by her presence were not working..

Eyes down, he ate an uncomfortable breakfast, and when he finally looked in her direction again, she wasn't there. Surely he was going crazy. Not able to look in her direction while she was there, yet, disappointed when she wasn't. It was time to take some fresh air, and once more try to clear his mind..

The sun was already moving higher, and as he walked along the lakeshore, he became very aware of the heat. Dan had never been a sun worshipper. Fair weather was fine, but he succumbed very easily to too much heat. So, after having a decent walk around the marina, which was a virtual forest of lofty yacht masts, he was glad to sit in the shade of the Shipping Bar, sipping at a refreshing cappuccino.

Young women walked by in various stages of undress, their physical assets well on display. Attractive, but nothing would shift his mind from that blue eyed image.

Finishing his coffee, he decided that the temptation of lazing by the hotel pool a definite attraction. Soon, in shorts which doubled as swimwear, with his book, his notebook, a towel, and sunglasses, he was settled on a lounger shaded by the high palms. Only two other loungers were being used. 




His Eyes Adored Her



Taking an early dip, he found it pleasing to be the only one swimming in the soothing blue water. It had been a while since he'd had a swim and he found his usual front crawl quickly tiring, so changed to a gentle breast stroke. Getting old was he? Old at thirty two, he'd better watch that.

Out, and lightly dried, he donned his sun glasses, lay back on his lounger, deciding whether it would be reading or adding to the book notes. Reading won, but he quickly slipped into a pleasant doze. The scraping of a lounger on the concrete roused him..

On the opposite side of the pool, and nearer the shallow end, a trim female figure in a black bikini was pulling a lounger into position. As she stood and half turned, Dan felt that, now almost familiar, lump in his throat. She was there, come to haunt him. That bikini confirmed all that Dan had thought lay under her summer dresses. Full, yet modest bosom, incredibly shapely hips and waist, a smooth flat belly.

Very surreptitiously he lowered his sunglasses to confirm that the skin that clad these charms was indeed golden brown, as he suspected. 

He realised that, wearing sunglasses, there was no recognition of where or whether he was looking. So for a precious moment he just gazed at the sheer perfection of her, without raising his head, but trying to look asleep.

Once, her head turned to scan around the pool. Did it linger where he was lying? Then she sat on the edge of her lounger and began rubbing sun lotion on her body. Why did he want to torture himself by keep looking at her? But his thoughts lingered on the fact that he would give a thousand pounds to be designated with that task, especially when her hands moved along her upper and inner thighs. .

Finishing her applications, she put on her sunglasses and lay back on her towel, legs slightly parted. Dan sighed and tried to return his concentration to his book. But, that body, that sensuous, slender body, and what at the outset, had been a kind of fascination at her beauty, now, he had to admit, had been overtaken by something close to desire. It had been so long since he had felt this way.

Eventually, he was able to concentrate more on his book, while the black bikini, still in repose, took his occasional glance. A waiter came around the side of the pool taking orders for lunch. Dan asked for a ham and cheese Panini and a beer. Shortly after that there was a lapping of water into the drainage grate, a sign that someone was bathing.

It was her, and she was doing a quite powerful breast stroke down the pool in his direction. She had pinned her hair high on her head, obviously to keep it dry. Dan held his book in a deliberate position, from where he was able to view over the top. He found her leg movements quite erotic, and, as she turned to swim back, her eyes looked in his direction for more than a moment. Or was that just his hopeful imagination?

As she climbed the steps out of the pool, her bikini bottoms slipped just enough to give a tantalising glimpse of whiter skin, and the upper crack in her shapely buttocks. Once again, Dan's breath was erratic. Then she quickly rubbed the towel over her skin, collected her things together, and made her way through the trees back to the hotel.

From that point, for Dan, although the sun shone bright, the afternoon was suddenly duller. Telling himself he had to stop torturing himself, just didn't work. He consumed his lunch, and forced himself to concentrate on making notes for his proposed novel, in which a wife was intending to murder her husband. By sheer force of will he made some progress, took another swim, dozed until he was dry, before returning to his room.

She was the first person he saw as he entered the dining room that evening, and once again their eyes met briefly. Had that been a slight smile that played on her lips? Could she actually be enjoying teasing him? That was just wishful thinking. Dan, when faced with the elegant coolness of a woman looking absolutely stunning in an elegant pale green dress that bared her shoulders, you become, he told himself, totally immature.

As he enjoyed the exquisite mixed grill placed before him, he just had to force himself not to look in her direction. Yet all the time he was wondering how much of a rebuff would he get if he made some kind of approach, just one last hopeless attempt to get to know her.

As it happened, it was she who made that ice-breaking move.

Just starting on his dessert of profiteroles and cream, he became aware of her standing to leave her table. Dan kept his eyes lowered as she neared, and once again his breath was snagged in his throat when, in far lighter tones than their only other encounter, her voice above him said, "Excuse me, Mr Tiernan. Sorry for disturbing your meal, but could you spare me a moment in the lounge when you're done?"

Dan, a spoon poised shakily in his hand, looked up into those eyes, at that wondrous face, and was amazed that he was able to find his voice to reply, "I'd be happy to. I'll just be a moment."

"Thank you," she said, and her smile, for Dan, was more warming than the sun, but much more gentle. "Please, don't rush. I've plenty of time." And she moved away.

Four profiteroles can never have disappeared so quickly, but even as he ate, Dan had time to wonder what she could want. Maybe she intended to lambast him again. Yet her tone promised something more than last time. Maybe she wanted to declare her undying love. That thought almost had him laughing out loud. So what could it be? There was only one way to find out.

Sitting for just a moment to let his stomach, and his nerves, settle, Dan straightened his shirt, patted his hair into place, and reminded himself that he was a mature male about to converse with a highly attractive lady who had already probed deeply into his peace of mind. He had to handle it with a measure of applied confidence.

In the lounge he found her seated in a white leather easy chair, with a cup of coffee on the table in front of her. Her smile, the second she had bestowed on him, was brighter than the first as she greeted him, "Mr Tiernan, good of you to join me." She gestured to the chair across the table from her.

"Please, call me Dan." That was the way, he told himself, be open. Already he was in a situation that only a few minutes ago had appeared unlikely. But what route was this conversation going to take? 

"Then you must call me Mandy." Mandy, somehow that name suited the delicacy of her.

The waitress came over and Dan ordered a coffee Americano.

She was silent for just a moment, her blue eyes very firmly on Dan. "You must let me apologise for my rather unseemly outburst yesterday.."

"No problem," Dan told her."You were probably justified."

"I was just a little on edge, last night."

Dan nodded, and uncertain of how to take it from there he said, "Is that why you've--?"

"No, not directly," she said, as she put her cup down. Her lips were moist and she looked rather tense. "Oh, I knew I'd handle this badly."

"I've got all night," Dan told her, and took the risk of a compliment. "Sitting here, sipping coffee, and looking at you is no great trial."

She blushed . She actually blushed, and Dan had been surprised at his own openness. But he warned himself not to overdo it. No point in scaring her off with an overload of what he felt.

"That's very gallant of you," she said, and the redness faded from her neckline as she became more serious. "Before I go into details, may I just say that if the favour I am going to eventually get around to ask of you, sounds just too crazy, please feel free to walk away. No hard feelings. I'll quite understand. " 

Dan was intrigued by the vagueness of her intentions, and he told her that.

She nodded her head, took a sip of coffee, and said, "I know it needs clarification, but I believe you can't have failed to notice the altercations between myself and Jake, my husband." She paused, took a deep breath before adding, "Or I should say, my ex-husband, for that is what he is to me now. I've already texted my solicitor."

Dan nodded, and wondered when it would be sensible to tell her of what he had already witnessed in Limone, but Mandy was going on with her story.

"We have been married just under three years, and within six months I was guessing he was not exactly a faithful husband. Late evenings--working--he's a financial advisor--trips abroad for two or three days, just stopped seeming innocent. Weekends away, fishing, he said. The only truth in that was the activity he was actually engaged in did begin with the letter 'f'." 

With a weak smile at that, Mandy stopped, and the breath shuddered in her throat, as though the hurt of it all was getting to her. Dan, amazed at her frankness, leaned forward, "You don't need to go on if--"

She gave him another pained smile, "No, I want to. Oh, you're going to think me stupid in what I want to do. I just need -just want—" Mandy straightened up and want on determinedly," We were here last year for a short break, and I shouldn't have been surprised that he wanted to come back. There's a woman here. Has an apartment in the town centre. I'm fairly certain his overseas trips have been to visit her. I sensed it last year, but when he wanted to come back—Well, I just knew, but hoped it might be an attempt at closure."

Dan could not hold back, "He's the stupid one. Prepared to risk a wife like you for some black haired bimbo--"

Her eyes widened. Oh, those blue eyes, full of shock. "How do you know that?"

"I saw him—them," Dan told her, and went on to describe what he had seen in Limone, and how he'd taken pictures of the cafe.

"And they're on it?"

"Probably." Dan hadn't checked his camera, but had little doubt that the couple would show up.

She nodded, "So you know how it is with us. Anyway, the evening you saw him stride out of the dining room, all self righteous, he'd had the nerve to tell me that he had been with her. I could have, should have poured my wine over him, but I just told him to get out of my life. He called me a cold bitch. Said I'd be sorry, and when I got back to our room, he had packed and gone." Her eyes on Dan were slightly moistened as she added, "And you know, I wasn't at all sorry."

Dan had listened sympathetically, genuinely finding it difficult to fathom the mind of a man who would walk away from a woman like the one in front of him. She was looking more and more attractive the longer he looked at her. But he was wondering just how he could come into this. Maybe he should advise her that he didn't do assassinations. But, he asked her.

Momentarily Mandy bit her lip, "You're going to think me neurotic. But I told you I wasn't at all sorry, and I'm not. I just need to prove that to him. To let him see, clearly, that I don't need him. Right?"

Dan noted the worried look on her face, as she looked for his response, and he said gently, "Okay, but I still don't see where I can help."

She nodded, "I'm going around the houses here, because I'm a little nervous about how you'll take it. But, have you noticed that you and I are now the only unaccompanied guests in the hotel?" Then she added more anxiously, "I'm assuming that you're not married."

The familiar tug came before he replied, "Not any more."

"Divorced"

"My wife was killed two years ago in a car accident." He was surprised that he could even tell her that much. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." Once more she hesitated, before saying, "I was wanting you to be a kind of escort for me. For us to walk together through the town centre in the evenings especially, so that he might see us. I know the places he tends to hang out. Does this sound rather petty?"

It did, in a way, but Dan found the prospect of spending any time with this lady well worth his time, and he said, "Not if it pleases you."

"And you wouldn't mind doing that?"

"I wouldn't mind," he said, and that had to be the understatement of the year. 

"We might eat out sometimes, at the places he might frequent. I'll pay, of course."

Dan shrugged, "We can see about that."

"Just a couple of provisos," she said, and her face was almost apologetic as she went on. "There are to be no strings on either of us. You can cry off whenever you feel you've had enough of this charade, and I certainly have no wish to get involved with anyone. At the end we part, and that's it. Agreed?"

Dan smiled at her, while, for the second time, he thought, we can see about that, but he said, "Sounds fair."

"Good," she said, returned his smile and added, "we'll start tomorrow evening. About eight, all right?"

"Fine," Dan agreed, then added, "what about socialising around the hotel."

She laughed, a lovely sound and it lit up her face."Well, we know each other now, so I guess we can converse more easily if we meet."

"What about meal times—separate tables?"

Her brow furrowed briefly, "I think we should keep the present situation. Like I said, I've no wish for further involvement."

Dan could have given her an argument on that one, but he just nodded, and, hoping his voice disguised his disappointment, he said, "As you wish."

A few more minutes and she finished her coffee, stood up and said, "Now, fully relaxed at settling that, I'm just going to sit on my balcony and read my book." Dan rose as she moved away, but she turned back to say, "Thank you for being so understanding." 

"My pleasure," he told her, and for the briefest of moments he wondered what was behind the way her eyes held his, and then she was gone.

He ordered himself a beer and sat pondering on the situation, and what opportunities might evolve from it. She had seemed fairly positive about the kind of commitment it would be, but ladies sometimes changed their minds. Maybe he could work towards that premise.

The following day, after an exchange of smiles and a nod across the dining hall at breakfast, Dan saw nothing of her until the evening. Filling in the day looked like being a trial, as the time threatened to pass slowly. However he took what he had been told was a popular walk along a footpath by the lake to the next town. Invigorated on the outward walk, he found the heat of the full sun on the return drawing him to the pool. After a dip, he slept in the shade of the palms. 

At one minute to eight, showered, shaved, dowsed in manly deodorant and dressed in best shirt and pants he was waiting in the lounge when Mandy arrived. Dressed in a loose, flared light green skirt with a dark green top that was off one shoulder and showed more cleavage than when she wore that black bikini, once again, she had managed to stop his breath.

Laughing as she caught the direction of Dan's eyes, she said, " I want him to see what he's missing. You look very cool."

Looking at her, he was anything but cool, as they walked out of the hotel and strolled by the lake shore towards the town centre. They did not touch and Dan noted that, in fact, Mandy kept at least a foot of space between them. There were many walkers at this time of the evening, many lovers clinging close, and it was pleasant just being in her company. 

As they walked they talked about how they'd each spent their day, the weather, about the food they liked, about films they had seen. Dan even had a laugh with her about her liking Tom Cruise. "That's a bit old hat now, isn't it?" he teased.

"I've always preferred darkly handsome men," she said, looking across the square they were passing. Dan wondered how far his dark hair moved him into that category. 

In the town centre, Mandy said they should hold hands now, "Make it look serious." 

As his hand enclosed her cool fingers, Dan wondered whether the electric charge that moved up his arm was pure imagination at this, their very first touch. But now her concentration was away from him, as she perused, every bar, every cafe, every restaurant, and watched every approaching couple. At about ten they sat outside a bar and Dan had a beer while Mandy sipped a rum spritzer. 

"No sighting," Mandy said quietly. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time, Dan."

Dan shook his head, "If you think you've been wasting m y time you haven't been concentrating."

She frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Being near you is never going to be a waste of time," Dan said openly, and watched her reaction to that.

Her head had turned away so that she was gazing across the lake, when she turned back her face was serious, "Please, Dan, I appreciate what you said, but I have no wish to complicate this." A little half smile crossed her lips as she added, "Besides, men are pretty low on my wish list at the moment."

Dan nodded and said, "Whatever you say." But deep inside there was the urge to keep trying, and, in the loneliness of his hotel room, he had to admit to himself that no woman had affected him like this since Carol. Yet he had never been a chat up type, and had been surprised that he had been able to furnish two compliments for Mandy already. Time would have to be the guide.

Up to the end of that first week they had three more evening sessions, without any sightings of Jake Bodecker and his mistress. If Mandy was disappointed that her attempt at a kind of vengeance was producing nothing, she did not show it.

For Dan, there was some distinct pleasure in meeting up with her accidentally around and about the hotel, when they would stop and talk about what they had been doing with their time, before moving on. What struck him was how much more satisfactory it would be if they spent more daytime in each other's company. But since Mandy had made no move in that direction, Dan felt it best to bide his time.

What did become gradually more and more pleasing over those blank evenings was the range of their conversations, and how much more often they laughed together. Dan learned that Mandy was a successful fashion designer, and had a string of three shops under the banner of, 'Simple Styling'. What was even more surprising, and highly promising from Dan's point of view, was that she actually lived in a town less that thirty minutes drive from where he lived. For the first time Dan started thinking of a future. But feared he might be dreaming.

Their fourth evening together turned out to be full of incident. As always she had taken his hand as they entered the town centre, as they walked and talked she began asking about his writing. He told her of the struggle it had been at first, of the joy of his first acceptance, and he even found he could mention how Carol's encouragement had helped with that first book. 

Earlier than normal, they sat in a bar with their usual drinks, and, because Carol's name had already come into the conversation Mandy asked about the accident.

A momentary lump in his throat, then Dan found himself spilling out the whole trauma of that night when Carol had been late driving home from a friend's home. Police arriving at the door was his first indication of the dreaded news. It turned out that there had been a head on collision. Eventually, Dan was to find out that the elderly driver of the other car had a heart attack and his car had swerved into the path of the car Carol had been driving.

"Oh, Dan, that's so awful," Mandy said, and her eyes told him how genuine her sympathy was, while her hand instinctively reached out to touch his across the table. 

"My God," Dan's voice was barely a croak.

"What is it?"

"Mandy, you're the first person I've been able to talk to about that."

"Then I feel privileged."

Dan decided it was safe to be even more open, "Truth is, you are the first lady I've even kept real company with since that time."

"In two years?" 

"Oh, a couple of attempts, but leading to nothing."

"How did you deal with the pain?"

"I wrote my second book. It helped keep my mind clear."

"Was the main female character based on Carol?"




His Eyes Adored Her



Dan looked at her with a warm feeling surging through his chest, "How—how could you--know?"

She smiled cautiously, "I finished it this afternoon. Oh, Dan, it was such a lovely story. The lead character--well, you could feel your love for her. And I can just imagine your comfort in giving it a happy ending."

From the warmth to something else, as Dan feared his emotions would overcome him. Thoughts of Carol minced with the look and nearness of Mandy. "Thank you," he said, after a short silence. "I'm glad you liked it."

Mandy leaned back in her chair, "Well, it looks like they may have gone away. We might as well--" She stopped, staring across the square, "Oh, God, look." And Dan followed the direction of her extended hand.

Arm in arm, the dark haired woman and Jake Bodecker were moving into a bar at the corner with a narrow lane. Dan looked at Mandy, and her mouth had fixed in a firm line, as her hands trembled on her glass. "At last," she murmured.

As she appeared to be rising to her feet, Dan advised, "Best wait until they settle."

Mandy's lip was trembling, and Dan asked, "You sure you want to go through with this?"

"More than ever," she affirmed, rising to her feet, "and I think they're nicely settled."

Standing up with her, Dan could see that the couple had found a table near the corner with the small lane."If we walk directly towards that lane, we'll pass close to them," Mandy said, and there was some excitement in her voice. 

On the square Dan reached for her obligatory hand, but she reached and gripped his arm high, as though in deep affection. "Look into my face," Mandy said anxiously as they neared the corner.

Dan did just that and, grinning at her, whispered, "Why do I always get these unpleasant tasks?"

She laughed out loud, at his joke, or to attract attention, Dan wasn't sure which. Maybe it was both. Then they were past the corner and into the lane.

"Do you think he noticed us?"

Dan had made one quick sideways glance, and was fairly certain eyes had followed them. He told her that, then asked, "What now? Are we finished?"

Mandy had loosened her grip on his arm, and was just holding his hand, but, he was sure, her grip was tighter. In answer to his question she said, "Oh, no. Let's make the most of it. We'll give it ten minutes and then stroll back."

It was a narrow lane but full of quaint shops and small cafes. As they walked, she asked, "Have you any plans for your next book?"

"I'm working on a couple of ideas at the moment, jotting down a few notes, you know. A change of genre for me, in which a wife plans to murder her husband."

"Oh, I can give you plenty of back ground for that," Mandy laughed delightedly. Then she stopped, turned and said, "Let's head back, same pattern as before."

As she gripped his arm above the elbow, other thoughts were buzzing through Dan's head. They had never been closer than they had been on that night, and in a way he was sorry that they had seen Jake and his woman.

They came to the corner, and had noticed in advance that the pair were still at their table. "Look at me again," Mandy whispered, as they came alongside the pair.

Drawing in a deep breath, Dan looked down into those eyes, and stopped walking. Mandy frowned slightly, as Dan, with a quickly muttered, "This will give him something to think about," pressed his lips firmly and warmly against hers. He kept his eyes open to view her reaction, and at first he saw those lovely blue eyes wide with surprise, but they did glance sideways towards the table. Then, her eyes closed, the pressure of her mouth increased on his, and her arms came around his back. And was there just a hint of her tongue at his lips just before they parted? 

As they started walking again, arms around each other now, Dan waited for her reaction to his kiss. Clasped together they moved slowly across the square. "That was a surprise," she gasped.

"A nice one, I hope."

"A nice warm, friendly kiss. And he saw it. I know he did."

Dan had meant the kiss to be a little more than her perception of it, but at least she had not taken offence, and the sensation of having her clinging to him, however, tenuously, had been marvellous. 

Clear of the square and walking by the lake shore, Dan became emboldened to ask, "Suppose I did that again, right here, away from a special audience, what would you do?"

For only a moment she looked out across the water, and then she said, "Probably slap your face." Then, laughing and squeezing his arm, she added, "But thank you, thank you, thank you for the slap in the face you've just given him."

A vague sense of disappointment stayed with Dan all the way back to the hotel, in spite of the fact that their hands had stayed locked together all the way. Could he draw any hope from that? Then another question came into his mind, hope of what? Was he seriously considering trying to bed this beautiful lady? He doubted whether he would have the skill to make that kind of approach.

Sure, it had fluttered in the back of his mind, for a good while now. From sheer admiration of her stunning looks, he had moved through a number of emotions to this point, where he had been able to talk freely about Carol to her, and he had even managed to kiss her, although well aware of the proviso she had imposed at the start.

"Tomorrow night," Mandy's voice broke into his thoughts as they turned through the hotel gates," we won't chase after him. But I promised you a meal out, and I know this lovely restaurant not too far from here. He could turn up, because he knows of it, but tomorrow is just my big thank you."

Dan held up their still joined hands, "This hasn't happened before," he said pointedly, and thrilled at her giving a little squeeze. 

But then she broke her hold. "An accident," she laughed." I forgot. So, okay for tomorrow night?"

"I'll look forward to it."

"A little earlier. Say, seven thirty?"

"Fine," Dan replied, and hoped his tone didn't sound as glum as he was feeling.

"Once again, Dan. Thank you." And she reached up and kissed him quickly on the cheek and was away up the steps, calling back. "Seven thirty."

Getting into bed that night Dan had the feeling that he was setting himself up for a massive let down. He feared that he just didn't have the positive nous to get anywhere really intimate with this lady. Trouble was, such a positive nous could simply drive her further away, like his offer of a second kiss tonight. She was just not thinking on the same level.

Suppose he did manage to get her into his bed, would he be able to perform? Just because he had been able to let Carol into their conversation, didn't ensure that thoughts of her wouldn't encroach on any efforts he might attempt with Mandy. Eventually, he slept. 

The following day he took a long walk through the town, and beyond, to where the mountains seemed to lean in towards him. It was fairly shady there, but once again, on the walk back, the rising heat got to him, so, like before, with his book, notebook and towel, he took up a shady position by the pool.

After a refreshing dip, he made some progress with his notes, and knew the wife would not succeed. When the waiter came around he ordered a light lunch, after which he read his book, until he fell into a pleasant slumber.

Dan came half awake at the sound of someone adjusting the lounger next to his. There were plenty of loungers around, why would anyone want to be this close? He half opened one eye, and immediately sat up straight.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mandy said, with a gentle smile. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

Dan sat up further, feeling his heart bumping in his chest, at this surprise appearance. He removed his sunglasses, and looked at her as she arranged her towel on the lounger. She was wearing a silken kimono style covering, and even as he looked she allowed it to slip off her shoulder, and she caught it. His eyes feasted on her golden body in a small pale blue bikini. His breath shuddered in his throat.

"Get that look off your face," she chided playfully.

"Look? What look?"

"That lustful look."

"Admiring."

"Lustful."

Dan gave her a smile and a shrug, "Well, if you didn't want it to be lustful, you shouldn't look the way you do." He changed tack quickly, "Anyway, it's good of you to join me."

"Least I could do." Mandy said, and nodded towards the pool, which looked cool and inviting.

"Just about to," Dan admitted, and gestured down his chest," even if it's only to get my pure white body away from your golden brown one." 

She laughed, a sound that he was enjoying more and more. "I think I'll sit for a while."

Standing up, Dan noticed that only two other loungers were occupied by snoozing ladies. Moving to the edge of the pool, he called, "See you later." Then he made a deep dive into the cool water, and, surfacing, he did a slow front crawl to the shallow end, turned and swam back.

Reaching for the poolside, he executed a clumsy turn. His face down in the water, he was suddenly aware of something trailing across his chest, and his eyes detected a form below him, a brown form, in two pale blue strips. With hair streaming out behind her, there was no doubt who it was. Even as he made the recognition, she turned up to the surface and swam over him, and for just one delightful second her breasts were against his back and then gone.

He stopped, and tread water, as she swam around him like some sensuous mermaid. Dan found her closeness, her playfulness so unexpected that it seemed quite natural to reach out for her. But no sooner had his hand touched her shoulders, than she was away from him, swimming with incredible force.

He swam after her, and he heard her laughing, as once again she swerved away. When she reached the steps near their loungers she hauled herself out, and Dan was again disappointed that the game was over.

"Enough fun for one day," she called, drying herself gently. "For me, it's rest time."

Another length and Dan was climbing out, grabbing his towel quickly to hide the bulge she had caused in his shorts. "You're a good swimmer," he told her, slowing his breath, as he looked at her fabulous body stretched out on the lounger legs slightly parted.

"I always look good swimming with old men," Mandy chuckled.

This was a Mandy he had not seen. It was as though getting her charade with Jake out of her system she was freed. God, Dan wondered just how free she might feel. But he knew he had to be cautious.

He lay back, put on his sunglasses, picked up his book, and simply looked at her, wanting her, cursing his own inability to push the issue. He had never been good at that. It had been Carol who had made the first move on him six years ago.

After a long while Mandy sat up, "Time to go. I have an important date tonight, and look what I've done to my hair." She pointed to where the tawny strands scattered just above her shoulders.

Dan sat up, and wanting to continue their airy relationship he said, "I have a date too, with some ugly old bird."

She had been gathering her things together, but now she laughed, turned and thumped him on the belly, not hard but enough to make him pant. "Very firm," she said. "Seven thirty, then. I'll try not to be too ugly." And he keenly watched her sashay away around the pool. 

At seven twenty five Dan was in the lounge, eagerly watching the lift doors. Since the afternoon he had experienced a sense of excitement about there evening meeting. No clear reason, he'd warned himself, except his own imagined reading of the events of the past twenty four hours.

The lift doors opened and Mandy was there, in silken white blouse and flowing black skirt, her hair back to that curl on the shoulder style. Dan's usual breathing problem, that she'd instigated, hit him as she walked towards him.

"How do you always look so cool?" she asked, her hand describing a wriggling movement in front of him. 

His smile should tell her how pleased he was to see her, "Maybe it's because I always wear blue."

"More than that," she said, gesturing towards the main door. "It's less than fifteen minutes to this place." That gesture and the movement it promoted under her blouse hinted to Dan that there was no bra. He knew very well that she could carry that off without any problem. Yet it added to his unwarranted excitement. 

They walked out into the cooling evening air, as the sun prepared to sink behind the mountains. As they made a right turn off the main road Mandy's fingers closed over his, and the thrill of that impromptu action touched deep inside Dan.

As he glanced sideways at her she said quietly, "It seems like a good habit."

"I can't argue with that," Dan said, and added, "I have been very remiss in not mentioning how -" He had intended to say 'lovely' but on a more jocular impulse, he said, "—cool you look tonight."

She laughed and said, "Hey, find your own compliments. Maybe it's because I never wear much." Her eyes met his and a cheeky grin spread over her face.

"I had intended to say, 'lovely'." Dan told her.

"Cool, is more fitting. Here we are."

They stood in front of an arch with crumbling brickwork. It looked like the entrance to some old farm, but immediately inside an array of neatly set tables stretched down a long area, which was roofed by a mass of imposing vigorous grapevines.

A waiter led them to a table deep under the vines, and took their order for wine, before leaving them with the menu. After minimal discussion they each ordered prawn cocktail to be followed by sliced duck. 

As they sat, nibbling bread sticks and sipping red wine, Mandy told him how her father had financed her start in the fashion world, when she had finished an extra course after university.

"Your parents still alive?" Dan asked, having eyes for nothing but her.

"My mother is. My father had a heart attack five years ago."

Dan nodded, "That's what took my father. Your mother live nearby?"

"Not far away," Mandy said, and smiled, "and she's going to be delighted that Jake is passing out of my life. She was always against the marriage. A very shrewd lady, my mother. Your mother?"

"She died of cancer. A year before my father had his heart attack. I guess he couldn't live without her." Fortunately the meal arrived at that point as their conversation risked becoming too morose.

The meal was unbelievable. Prawn salads that Dan could not imagine. All prawns and very little lettuce. The duck that followed was exquisite in what the waiter called 'a special sauce'. Neither had room for dessert, and since they had finished the bottle of red wine together, they sat and had a cup of Americano coffee, to end the meal.

They had a little argument about payment, but, even though Dan didn't like the idea of the lady paying, he relented in the face of her scolding insistence that it had been her idea.

Their stroll back was lit by a high bright moon, "A very romantic moon, that," Dan remarked, delighted that Mandy was gripping his upper arm just as she had when Jake was watching. But tonight there was no Jake.

"They are very dangerous, moons like that," Mandy said softly.

"How?"

"They lead people astray."

Dan looked down at her, and her eyes were on him, seeming to reflect the moon. Her lips were slightly parted, the wine was coursing through his veins, he stopped, and bending to place his lips on hers seemed like the most natural thing in the world,

Mandy's response was instant. She turned in to press against him, and her lips were moist, moving eagerly over his, her tongue flicking at his without tangling. 

Holding her close, Dan allowed one hand, to prove that there was no bra. He had been correct, and under the silk of her blouse, her breast felt so firm yet so comforting.

Yet, just as his hand closed over it, Mandy pulled away, and he could not read the expression on her face as she said, "This wasn't in the script."

As they began walking again, their arms remained around each other, as she said, "It wasn't intended to be like this.."

Dan just a little uncertain after the joy and promise in the kiss said, "Should we stroll the lakeside?"

Mandy nodded, without answering, and looking down at her, Dan could see a little furrow of doubt between her eyebrows. He didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, and he told her that.

"I know," she replied, as the looked at the ripples of the lake being sequined by the moon light. "But I did say at the start that there was to be no involvement ."

Dan feared what might be coming, "You did say that, but I made no promises."

They had reached the rear gate into the hotel grounds, and as they walked through the enclosing trees and shrubs Mandy said, "Would you kiss me again?" Pause. "Please."

Their kiss was even more desperate than earlier, and as she pressed herself against him, Dan knew that she could not fail to be aware of his erection pressed against her belly. Gently their tongues touched at each other as total strangers might touch. Then before Dan could decide what should happen next she had pulled away, out of his grasp and was hurrying ahead of him to the entrance.

Once inside, she turned to him and huskily she said, "It's been a lovely evening. Good night, Dan."

Dan was so struck by the suddenness of her action that he stood frozen, as she hurried to the lift, and within seconds was gone. How could she do that? Dan was very aware of his erection being rather obvious in his thin pants, and he had no option but to hurry the two floors up the stairs to his room.

Half angry, half mystified, and totally frustrated, he immediately stripped off and had a shower. It didn't help his despair. He was out and towelling himself, trying desperately to understand her actions, when his internal phone rang. This being a first time, he was a little confused by the ringing tone at first.

Picking up the receiver, a female voice began, "Mr Dan Tiernan?" He didn't need to be told, that was Mandy's voice. With the breathlessness she always evoked he managed an uncertain ,"Yes."

The voice went on in a very matter of fact tone, "I believe that you can provide excellent room service. Could I ask you to come to room 304, and do something about this moonlight streaming through my window?"

His whole being throbbing, he almost squealed, "Two minutes."

With pants and loose shirt pulled hastily on, he was out of the door into the lift, and was standing outside room 304 in less than two minutes. He knocked and thrilled at her voice telling him, "It's open."

As he pushed open the door he saw that moonlight was indeed bathing the otherwise darkened room. Standing in the centre of it was Mandy, clad only in a near transparent robe, through which her breasts were clearly defined, her whole body glowed under the moon, and a faint suggestion of triangular fuzz had Dan drawing in a deep breath.

"You might get used to the fact that at times I can be bit of a terrible, " Mandy said, with a sensuous smile. "But only with the right people. And you needn't have dressed so formally just for me."

Dan reached his hands out as she approached like some beautiful wraith in her flowing robe, which parted as she moved to reveal her two white strips. She held up a hand, "Don't touch me--yet."

Her hands pushed his loose shirt off his shoulders, and her fingers immediately worked at his belt buckle. As his pants dropped she looked down and her mouth twisted in approval as she said, "Mm, not just a pretty face."

Dan knew full well that his erection was near total given the sight of her. Now, came the worry. Mandy was here, clearly available. How and why were questions for later. Would his rebellious penis let him down again? Don't think about it, Dan, don't think about it.

Mandy allowed her robe to drift to the floor, and she deliberately stood in the moonglow, raising her hands over her head in a most exotic pose. "Venus by moonlight, maybe?" she asked, and even while Dan took further delight in viewing her sensational body, she moved to the bed.




His Eyes Wide Open



The room was drenched in the westering sun of late afternoon. A gentle breeze had picked up offshore and, blowing through the harbour and past the banister of the two-chair balcony, was flapping away at the blue serge curtain of their hotel room. White sheets lay tangled, long blonde tendrils lay wavily on a disordered pillows. A shapely shoulder and an athletic, yet quite feminine, arm emerged from the crisp white cotton pile and was set in an "L' before him. The faint, tiny blonde hairs on her forearm caught the sun's rays. She propped herself up on the pillow and two breasts emerged: round, swelling breasts with med-sized pink nipples darkening to brown after tanning on the beach. B cups that, had they advanced just that much further, would have ripened into shapely, round, swelling Cs.

A shifting of cotton and a long leg peeked out. Toned, athletic, shapely and ending in a high-arched foot with blue-green nails. He admired her leg, tracing its contour with his eyes. The swell of her hip, half hiding behind the crisp sheet, her arm and her shoulder ended in the lean length of her aristocratic neck. Blonde hair, masses of it, fell in luxuriant waves. Her body was that of a 25 year old, her face mid 30s. She had passed forty and yet she was as desirable and as lovely as ever. Her deep green eyes – nails so well matched to them - sparkled.

"Read on" she said. Actually she purred those words.

"Quoi, Monsieur, sérieusement vous voulez que j'écrive mon histoire? " [Really, Sir, are you serious? You would have me write my story?]

"Where did you find it again?" Curiosity piqued, clearly.

"A Times article on the NYPL's collection of erotica. This book 'Therese' was a best seller in Enlightenment France. Materialism and "les Philosophes" meets pornography." He paused. "A young woman goes on a sexual adventure and learns about herself and philosophy." Another pause. "Really – philosophy and fucking."

She held his gaze. "I wonder if we can learn anything?"

He scrolled down the page, marvelling at the things one can find on the Internet. "Vous désirez un tableau où les scènes dont je vous ai entretenu, ou celles dont nous avons été acteurs, ne perdent rien de leur lasciveté ; que les raisonnements métaphysiques conservent toute leur énergie? " [You would like me to paint a portrait of all I have seen, have participated in, without losing any of their lascivious edge? That all the philosophy underpinning this retains its power?]

She smiled. "I told you. I would like to learn something." The sheets shivered as she squirmed – purely for his benefit. 

He read on. "Imbéciles mortels! Vous croyez être maîtres d'éteindre les passions que la nature a mises dans vous. Elles sont l'ouvrage de Dieu. Vous voulez les détruire, ces passions, les restreindre à de certaines bornes. " [Idiotic mortals! You believe you can extinguish the passions nature endowed you with? They are the work of God. You think you can destroy them? Restrict them?]

She stretched, feline yet strong. Lean. "Strong stuff. That could get you in rather hot water in those days. Tell me more." She was intent now. 

"It would appear that the main character in a good bourgeoise. Young, Lovely. Named Therese. Oh and here's a bit... she is serving oysters and champage."

"Yes please." And she sat up, breasts swelling forward in a tempting manner.

"She is a student of a Jesuit who is also instructing her friend Mlle. Eradice. The priest has various "spiritual exercises for Eradice. One morning, after Eradice says her prayers, Therese is allowed to watch from a cabinet... It seems to involve Eradice first being spanked on her bottom ('white like snow, perfect ovals'... much like yours, my dear). He tells her this is for salvation and spiritual knowledge. Enraptured he then fucks her as she kneels on a prie dieu... her friend watching all the time."

Blonde hair was tucked behind and ear. "Is Eradice an exhibitionist?'

"Yes I think so. And here Therese can't dislodge the sight of the priest's "rubicund member" tunnelling into Eradice from her mind. She dreams of it, spreads her legs and masturbates."

"Later on, after learning much from a courtesan, a lascivious nobleman wants her to be his mistress. She refuses and they wager she cannot spend time in his library of erotica without masturbating."

"and...?"

"She lasts five days before, drapes open and door ajar, she lies naked on her bed fingering herself."

"Like this?" And, a flurry of cotton sheets and he saw all of her. Shapely long legs (She was over 5'6" and perfectly balanced) converging on a flat belly, gently curving hips and a waxed pussy. She had tightly drawn slit, even and set between lips that cried to be caressed with a tongue. She propped up against the headboard and spread them wider. A finger traced each lip, now redder and engorged. Legs parted wider, pink appeared even as a finger reached for her clit and began to gently manipulate it. Her eyes blazed challengingly. She knew it turned him on. His cock poked up through the bathrobe, and he began to stroke it. Her eyes fixed on his length.

She began to manipulate her clit backwards and forwards, legs splayed. Faster she went, her eyes closed now. Mesmerised he watched her start to convulse. She sighed and smiled.

He had continued stroking his cock, head peeking through foreskin as it swelled. She rose, leaned forward and, even as she brushed long blonde hair behind and ear, began to flick at his cock head. She bent and traced the length of his shaft, not a porn cock but a respectable seven inches and decent girth. Tongue descended and traced his balls even as she stroked it with her left hand. She moved upwards and took the head and the first inch in her mouth. She descended an inch, then two. She tucked her hair behind her ear again to reward him with the sight of half his cock disappearing into her mouth. She swirled her tongue as she pulled back.

A minute of this and he began to spurt in her mouth. She swallowed half and let the rest trickle out onto his belly. They smiled at each other.

They were in Spain travelling the second wedding of a good friend. It was his old friend's third quite serious relationship and, late in his 40s, he had chosen an expansive golf and sailing and equestrian club, full of expats and second homes, for his wedding. His new girlfriend – wife to be – was a hedonist pure and simple. He had been invited in on the planning and knew his friend was having a boys only event at the yacht club.

"So tell me about the Thursday evening again." She was smiling and flushed.

His friend was having an "Eyes Wide Shut" themed party. Men in black tie; women in masks and head-dresses, little if anything else. It was off season and the building, set in dense gardens on a small hill above the harbour, would afford considerable privacy. The entertainment – the women – were models provided by local agencies but apparently sourced in Madrid. His friend had been quite insistent on recreating this cinematic fantasy. The availability of modelling agencies familiar with this theme was an indication that it was not an exclusive fantasy.

She listened with interest, but the barbed tongue was not far away. "Oh really. And when do you all turn 25?" She was mocking him, them really. Them and the male fantasy and lechery that could outrun advancing middle age,

"Allan is to play master of ceremonies. I am to greet the girls, arrange payment of course, and usher them in. I had to arrange for delivery of the masks and head-dresses – all packed carefully in tissue lined boxes at the club now."

"Such a burden my dear." More mocking.

"So will it be an orgy?" She of course knew it would not be an orgy. For some of the attendees this would be an off-the-charts burst of hedonism. For others it would be tame, but the group dynamics would ensure that it was a dinner of cigars and drinking and naked women parading before a safe exit pre-empted the orgiastic conclusion mapped out in the movie.

"No. The women will arrive, undress to g-strings and put on the head-dresses. The agencies quite liked the idea as it provided maximum titillation with no risk of faces being seen: much easier to hire models this way. They will parade out during cocktails just as dinner is to be called. Then there will be a sort of runway show through the bar area. I will be the behind the scenes impresario." He laughed, as much at his ridiculous role as at the absurdity of the idea.

She was studying him. "Head-dresses... like this?" She had grabbed his computer and had pulled up stills from the movie. Bare breasted beauties, faces and hair obscured behind feathers and impassive masks.

"Yes." 

His mind whirred to where he though hers was. True, they fought to keep their relationship fresh: nude beaches, even the odd sexual bout in a risky place. They would watch the more reasonable type of pornography (no brutality and misogyny). And yet she was (was she?) now proposing taking the exhibitionism they both enjoyed to a new and vastly riskier level?

"Are you ..."

"Yes"

"With everyone at the wedding two days later?"

"Yes. Masks, remember..."

"What if the way you move is recognized? Or you speak?" He felt blood rushing.

"Then I'd best try to be different, or anonymous. Or not speak."

His cock was swelling again, and she was grinning at his evident discomfiture.

"Brain and cock at war with each other, darling?" Her smile was under-girded with a challenge.

He loved watching her be admired. From early in their relationship she had intuited this and had slowly grown into a more exhibitionistic person; their desires intertwining. Yet now his brain was busily computing all the ways this was risky. She was right though, his cock had recovered at the thought. A graceful arm leaned forward and a nail stroked his shaft. It pulsed.

"Oh I think you want me too." And she was right, of course.

––––––- 

The evening was warm but not unpleasantly so: perhaps mid 60s. He had worn a white dinner jacket, more as a nod to the unaccustomed sunshine than to actual tropical temperatures. It transpired that two agencies were providing models and the women were arriving singly and in groups. Two blondes, two redheads and a trio each of brunettes and raven-haired.

He had arranged with one agency for two security personnel to be on site, not that it was warranted but drunken stupidities could not be completely ruled out. Better safe than sorry. The second agency had agreed that the first could provide the two men, who now sat impassively outside the pool changing room serving as the staging post for the show. 

She slipped in when 7 of the 10 women had arrived. Many of the women did not know each other and were, for obvious reasons, not hugely inclined to more than polite chatter. Half the models were in their 30s and she frankly just blended into the scene, though she was perhaps more serious than the others. Alicia, the planner of the event, bustled in and, smiling at him, gave a brief overview of where to go, pointing at a schematic of the room she held aloft. She did it in English; the girls were a mix of nationalities and the lingua franca of the EU made as much sense as any.

"You will do a tour through in two lines. Two full circuits of the room. As champagne is served you will do the runway show and some of you will accompany him ... fully nude. The ones doing that know who you are."

He had paid the two "lead girls" from each agency. His blonde he hinted was part of the other agency. Not being their responsibility neither woman – one a statuesque blonde swede and the other a full-breasted dark Spaniard – probed any further.

He now regretted the Rick's Café look, but tried to look nonchalantly away, left hand in pocket, as the various women began to undress. He discreetly slipped his mobile out and snapped a few shots as the women – his gorgeously dutch blonde included – began to undress. Some had worn g-strings and others had not, choosing instead to change before him, though in a rather matter of fact way. He felt tension growing in his cock even as she, and he, studiously avoided looking at each other.

And then the women were selecting masks and headdresses, preening and adjusting in front of mirrors. Personalities now obscured they became instead an abstraction of erotic attraction... legs and breasts and s-curves. Black g-strings. The expressionless, neutral masks were gold and silver, cream and black. She had chosen a fan shaped black head-dress, black feathers rising and swaying above. It surmounted a cream mask – still darker than her pale skin – a black thong and black heels with pointed toes.

He recognised her, of course. A hint of blonde hair though the head-dresses. She was amongst the tallest, almost 5'10" in heels. Her body, he remarked critically, was still the best. Her breasts were perfectly shaped, still high and firm with an inviting melon-roundness. She stood next to a red-head, also in all black save for a cream mask with red lips almost designed to draw attention to the spray of freckles across her breasts and chest.

Allan came bounding in, all excitement and pre-party vodka on the rocks. Confronted with the first person she knew she startled visibly and turned to him, but the mask was devoid of any reaction and she was but one almost naked woman amongst eleven.

"Eleven?" Allan asked after a swift count. 

"Yes, one extra. Aren't we lucky?"

Allan had already moved on and actually advanced closer to his blonde. Her breasts were three feet from him, but his eyes were fixated on the plump, round and somewhat saggy breasts of the raven haired Spaniard standing with one hip cocked.

Allan turned. "Five minutes" 

She was suddenly standing two feet away. A voice emerged from unmoving lips of the mask. "I'm nervous."

He was too, though equally excited. So as not to attract attention she drifted off. Evidently this aside was more to provide courage than to suggest she would slip out.

Alicia organizer emerged again and, leaving the kickoff in her hands, he ascended the stairs rather dry-mouthed. Grabbing a glass of the champagne from a waiter he looked around for Allan and catching his eye, nodded. A signal was given to the DJ and music began even as lights dimmed somewhat.

The women were all lovely, but she looked particularly fine. Fifth in line she was fitter, tauter, lither than the others. Her breasts swayed gently, a natural critique of the fake breasts rigidly and exaggeratedly riding next to her. 

The line of women snaked between forty men in dinner jackets, around and back. Eyes of the men – some he knew – some he did not darted this way and that, dwelling on her, on her breasts, on her gently swaying ovals behind. They drank in her pale skin.

The lines of women snaked around and back. The black thong vanished between her ass cheeks leaving her effectively naked behind. The line swung around. Her nipples were rock hard. Temperature? Excitement?

This topless line of beauties was to formally announce the evening's entertainment. Allan, keen to occupy the foreground gave a speech, the girls clustered behind. She was second row, but her shapely back and ass were visible in the mirrored glass behind. 

The speech was rather prosaic and swiftly over. It outlined the sequence of events. The women descended the stairs and, exchanging a new drink for his empty glass, he followed them down the stairs to discuss the entry of the groom. "Quite ready in five minutes" Alicia organizer said throatily.

And five minutes later music began. A low, broad stage was set beyond the row of tables, forming an L around the room. Onto it marched two rows of four women, splitting to form a perimeter at the back of each arm of the L. Then the music ascended a notch and the groom entered – wearing a hooded cape -, followed by three women. Three quite naked women. A redhead, a dark haired woman and a blonde. His blonde. Thrillingly nude yet anonymous. On view yet out of context for the room. 

Her legs were longer and lovelier than the others. She was fully waxed; her neighbour has a red landing strip for effect and the dark haired girl was shaved but the skin of her pussy area was somehow a deeper hue. His blonde's hairless lips were near eye level for many of the men. Every stride revealed more. She was three feet from a strutting man that she knew, and not much father from 40 others, but the groom was reliving some youthful fantasy and oblivious to the women save as props or eye candy, adornments to his ego.

Her mask gazed in his direction and he soaked in her beauty, so flagrantly on display. Again he hazarded a quick photo, the thought of which immediately burned into his consciousness.

His cock was swelling. Her breasts were rising and falling more that the exertion of walking in heels required.

The groom shrugged off the hood and gave a slightly odd speech, mercifully short. He could not pay attention, for as the groom spoke a light shone on the stage illuminating all the women to a greater degree. She is stark naked on stage in front of 40 men... 

––––-

The dinner ran on. He relaxed. She would have slipped out, he assumed. He decided to verify and casually wandered to the stairs. There he collided with ____, a rather louche hedge fund manager who leaned in to him and, wine and whisky on his breath, and said "I have a surprise planned for a few of us"

Curious he followed him down. At the base of the stairs the hedge fund manager pushed ahead and into the changing room. It was too late to stop him and the hedge fund manager almost collided with the security detail. Eleven women, some still in masks (including the blonde) turned to look.

He was a successful trader for a reason, for sensing that things could spiral he swiftly spoke. "Ladies, I have a proposition that may repel some of you but might find favour with others. I would like a show, supervised by these fine security men (who will be rewarded). Just a show for compensation of a thousand euros. If two of you participate then I shall pay for two. Three is fine too. And so forth. Have I takers?"

Two girls raised their hands. Cooly he surveyed the room. He pointed at the blonde. "What about you, my lovely?"

Seconds ticked by. His heart pounded. She glanced quickly at him and then her masked face nodded.

–––- 

And so, a few minutes later he was in the changing area of the women's steam room. A security man stood impassively by. Eight men were waiting and she entered the room and its half-dimmed light. She was wearing a yacht club spa robe.

Hedge fund asked if she would remove the mask. She shook her head. "I will pay extra" Seconds ticked by... surely she wouldn't? She didn't and his heart settled back from his throat.

"Will you use this for an extra thousand?" Louche hedge fund had produced a shiny black vibrator with a slightly bulbous circumcised-effect head. Again seconds passed and she reached forward he had to take the black wand.

She shrugged the robe off slowly and stepped into the brighter light by a leather sofa. They had only a glimpse before she turned to show her ass to the room. The she spun and, settling on the sofa, sat upright with legs kept together, surveying the crowd from behind her mask.

There was absolute silence and then, slowly, she parted her legs and began to roll the vibrator over her chest, her nipples, her breasts. As she did her legs parted wider. Pussy lips came into view as the black rod rolled over the perfect belly. She raised it to caress her thighs. Leaning back she began to trace the humming shaft over her pussy lips, which were growing pinker by the moment.

He glanced at the other faces. Dry lips, focused eyes. She had their rapt attention. He knew three of the eight but they were united in admiration.




His Eyes Wide Open



Edging her bottom forward and parting legs farther the tip of the vibrator penetrated her lips, black on pale white. Withdrawing it one could see she had slicked the tip with excitement. She returned it and ever so patiently began to penetrate herself with the humming dildo. In it went, half out and in, Out, covered with her wetness and shiny. In, faster, out. Buzzing. She was restraining her noises through a superhuman effort and then the moist rod was out, the tip on her clit and she bucked once, and again, a mouth-stifled moan.

"I will pay another thousand, three thousand euros, if you put it in your ass." and hedge fund stood and placed a bottle of lubricant on the sofa within arm's reach of her.

Her eyes blazed at him defiantly and then she took in the room, lingering at his gaze. She stood, her beauty on full, flushed display. And she turned. From behind they had a view of the shapely back and ovals of her ass even as she began to coat the vibrator with lubricant.

With delicious slowness she placed one knee on sofa and then leant forward. As her back bent her ass cheeks parted and her pussy and rosebud were on display. Her ass was magnificent, her rosebud an invitation. 

The slicked up black rod was in her hand then it was massaging up and down the crack of her ass. She positioned it at her hole and then began to massage the nerve endings, tracing the O with the head of the rod. The room was silent save for deep breathing and the slight buzzing. 

She began to corkscrew the tip against her anus and then it began to slip in. She held it there with only the buzzing tip in her, but then, leaning more forward onto the sofa's back, she began to slide it in as a finger reached for her clit.

The vibrator entered in, inch by inch, until it was two thirds buried. In and out. She was fucking her ass with the black rod. She was masturbating with a vibrator in her ass in front of an audience. His cock strained inside his trousers. He let his elbow brush against his groin, increasing the sense of intensity and physical desire.

She came quickly and unexpectedly, collapsing against the sofa backrest in a limp mass. Even though she held it lightly the dildo began to slide out of her ass at an exquisitely watchable pace until it gently popped out, leaving her rosebud to mesmerizingly close before their eyes.

Clapping. Sounds of enthusiasm. She rose and slipped on the robe, accentuating the line of her breasts as she did.

He leaned back, the tent pole in his trousers straining against the fabric. Hedge fund had advanced with euro notes in his hand. He half heard "I can help you shower, silent one" but she took the cash, not the offer.

She disappeared into the other room with the security man following. 

His mind was abuzz, his chief desire to follow her to the hotel room (if indeed he could wait that long – a handy bench would do at this point).

"Was she an exhibitionist?" she had of the character in 'Therese'. He now had the same answer for her.