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April Rising

By: Sienna



1.

The room was silent, lit only by the bright arc lamp which shone its beam onto one side, that of April. Her body naked knelt upon the bed with her long brown hair cascading over her shoulders and back, her head bent forward, in hiding from the light.

Then the music began, a slow soft drumbeat at first getting louder and rising in tempo with it her head began to raise in time to the rhythm. Then the music reached a crescendo and April flicked her head, sending the veil of soft flowing hair backwards from her face. A silent pause and the light illuminated her features. Eyes closed delicately, her pink painted lips loosely parted; her face was a vision of calmness and tranquillity. The music began again, an harmony of strings as her lace gloved hands slipped from her shoulders and over her breasts, fingers parted and relaxed, slowly drifting over each smooth mound of soft skin. Her fingers gripped, cupping her pink flesh, caressing her breasts with a gentle grasp. 

April opened her eyes wide, revealing her sapphire blue orbs and reflecting the brightness of the light within them. Her lips parted and her tongue began to lick gently as if tasting them. Her mind was upon the music, creating a mantra for her deep thoughts and wild imagination as each thumb and finger took hold of her firm nipples.

She was aroused and excited by the music. She began to lament, a soft moan of satisfaction as her thumb and fingers began to pull at the rigid flesh of her dark pink buds. Tingles ran through her spine and seemed to travel to one focus in her groin, sending waves of delight through every nerve and sinew in her body. One hand released and glided downwards, touching her navel tenderly until reaching the mound of neatly trimmed pubic hair. The other hand moved upwards across her slender throat. With one laced finger extended she touched her lips and tongue and sucked upon it, closing her eyes once more in ecstasy with the music itinerant in her head.

Her senses became enlightened as her gloved finger made its way through moist folds of skin, probing into delicate labial petals and reaching its objective. With two other fingers she parted her pink petals, opening herself up she began to caress the un-hooded tiny swelling of her clitoris, bucking gently, breathing wildly and crying out as if lamenting in harmony to the music that surrounded her.

April held her breath as the music paused. Her eyes opened wide and at that exacting moment both hands came together in her groin, feeling the warm gush as she released. She had attained the highest peak of her orgasm and her body stiffened and trembled for a few seconds until she relaxed, letting out her breath and clutching as the soft rhythm of the music returned. She looked down at her breasts, firm and slightly flushed by the tension of her climax. Her nipples protruded like tiny stems, outwardly pointing and sensing the coolness of the air. Slowly in time with the music, she began to breathe at a normal pace, feeling the relaxing harmony around her. Slowly she removed both hands from her groin and felt the wetness of her nectar upon the white-laced fingers.

The music ended and April lay back. Resting her head into the silk pearl white pillow. She smiled to herself and raised her knees and with arms rested above her head in a sea of soft brown hair, she began to laugh. 

After a shower, April draped herself in a towel and ran back into her bedroom. The video camera was still mounted in the corner of the room on a dressing table and it had captured her solitary performance earlier. Something she wanted to do for no apparent reason whatsoever. A whim, a fantasy and nothing else, only to capture herself having an orgasm to her favourite classical piece of music by Strauss. 

It had become something she had perfected over the past few months. But to April it was making out to the music, as if making love to it. Mind and body in harmonious sexual union with the music itself. 

She sat at the dressing table. She leaned forward and parted her damp hair to stare at her own face in the mirror and the thing she knew about herself most profoundly, was her stunning beauty. She was deeply in love with herself, vanity beyond recognition. But one thing it gave her was respect. She respected herself and her intelligence told her it was good and pure. Atleast she was someone special and confident. Her life as a model had paid off and she could do almost anything she wanted. 

April did not need make-up, she had natural beauty. But the cosmetics simply enhanced it and framed it in such a way that made her stand out, turned heads in awe of it and made others envious of her. But then that was her life now and all she ever really wanted. Her childhood fairytale dreams had come true. 

After applying her lip-gloss, she pouted and smiled. "God you are so sexy," she whispered to her own reflection. Then sat back and pulled away the towel from around her, revealing her firm breasts, to stare at them with admiration. They were perfectly formed and equal, the tone of flesh balanced between nipple and areola. She stood up and turned, the shape of her hips, the slimness of her tummy the smooth line of her buttocks and thighs were what every model could wish for. And she did nothing to achieve it other than to respect its naturalness. 

That evening she arrived at the restaurant in an expensive designer blue dress that revealed her form. Her hair was tied back with a white silk ribbon and she was greeted by the headwaiter that took her to her host. Her jasmine perfume wafted across every nostril as she followed him through the seated guests at their tables.

Franco stood up and held out his hand to receive hers. He kissed it gently and she noticed his superb handsome physique. He was everything she had expected. Dark hair and dark romantic latin eyes. A smile that said everything she wanted to hear without words being spoken.

"I am so pleased you could be here this evening. You look wonderful, " he said. The headwaiter pulled back the chair for her to sit. "I thought that you would never be here."

"Thank you, I'm sorry I'm so late."

"No need to apologise. Atleast now you are here." 

The waiter poured the wine for them both to examine, and they approved, allowing him to fill their glasses. April was more interested in her host and she gazed at his immaculate features as the waiter took their order. Franco was not only important to her for what he could manipulate in her career, but he was also someone that she dreamed of, a man she fantasised about quite often. Now he was across the table in person. 

Despite him being twice her age, April found him exhilarating. She had always been attracted to older men, especially charismatic ones such as he. Afterall, Franco was famous too. She knew everything about him, learned of his life from tapes and magazines and had studied his work keenly.

"I am very surprised," he told her, "You have refused many acting contracts. Why is that?"

April rested her face in her hand and smiled, leaning towards him. "Simple. I am not an actress and have never aspired to be one or become one."

"I see. So you are not like the others."

"Others?"

"Yes, others. Supermodels. They have ambitions to become famous in the movies. Of course, not all of them have what it takes."

"Neither do I."

"But, how do you know?"

"Acting to me is an art which requires a certain skill to take on a certain character. I have never been good at that. The models you mention are not always acting as such. They simply look good for the camera. And I already do that as a model."

Franco laughed. "They warned me about that."

"About what?" 

"Your intelligent wit and stubbornness."

"Really. And what else do 'they' say about me?"

"That you are gorgeous and hypnotic and very very charming."

Their meal arrived. They were important and special guests; the elite of the fashion world as was many that used that restaurant. And in silence they ate and drank wine to the soft music that played in the background. 

"Chopin," she said. 

"Excuse me?"

"The music. It is Chopin."

"Ahh! Yes I hear it. You like Chopin?"

"I love all classical and modern music. My father was a conductor and composer in his own right. I grew up with it. Music is part of my life"

"That is something I did not know."

April looked at him and smiled, "Well now you do."

Their repast over, Franco found his way to discuss the reason for their meeting. He explained to her his desires to have her in one of his advertising projects. "Not exactly acting as you say," he made a point of explaining. "You will be modelling, selling the product as it were in movies. A new horizon for you to explore perhaps?"

The waiter came over to replenish their empty wine glasses. April covered hers with a hand, not wishing to have anymore. "Is the wine not to your taste, madam?"

"It was wonderful, but I have had enough thank you." Franco looked at her and then at the waiter, with one nod of his head he dismissed him and the wine bottle. 

"Do you prefer to go somewhere else?" Franco asked.

"A nightclub?"

"Do you have one you wish to go to?"

April looked at him. She had a certain place in mind that was daring. A place that she loved to visit, but not well known. And she knew Franco would never have been there, but wanted him to go. 

Their private car took them across the city, through the busy streets, lit up by neon signs. Franco was a stranger here and far from his native Italian home of Naples. 

"Is this nightclub your favourite place?" Franco asked. His eyes looked at her in admiration as she sat beside him. She knew that he desired her, and wanted to remove every layer of her clothing and feel her naked skin on his fingertips. She had become accustomed to men like him and their intentions. 

"Yes. You could say that." 

"And our business? What of my proposition?"

"You will know when I have decided," she replied with a smile, looking at him from the corners of her eyes as she felt his gaze upon her. "After we have had some fun of course."

Franco had become enchanted. She could do anything she wanted to him. Anything meant everything within reason. The car pulled up outside a nightclub in a secluded back street side. Franco stepped out and offered his hand. He looked at the closed doors that gave no indication as to where they were, only that it was part of the establishment she directed them to. 

"We will call you when we need you," he told the driver. At that, the car drove away into the main street leaving them alone. It was a side entrance and April walked over to the doors, knocking three times on them as Franco stood back to watch. The low hatch opened and she told the person inside whom she was. The doors opened and a dwarf stood in the frame. Silently he bowed and allowed them both to enter.

"Thank you, Alfred," she told him.

"Have a pleasant evening madam, sir," Alfred replied with a grin that spread across his face from ear to ear.

2. 

Franco was curious. "Are we not good enough for the front entrance?" he asked looking at Alfred. The dwarf locked the doors securely and led the way ahead down a dimly lit passage, wide enough for them to walk in single file. "I have to say this is very mysterious." The sound of April's heels echoed, drowning out the dull dance music coming from the club.

"I like mysteries." April replied. Franco followed her, watching the sway of her hips as she followed the dwarf through a single padded door. He led them down a spiral staircase, which took them into the bowels of the premises. At the bottom they entered another room through doors, which Alfred opened without entering. "Thank you Alfred." Once more he bowed, allowing them in with the same unaltered smile on his face.

Franco looked around. The sight that met his eyes astounded him. There were table's set up and each one had two people sat in candlelight. There were men with men and women with women and the usual male and female couplings. April led Franco to a vacant table and they sat.

"So this is a private nightclub?" he asked.

"Yes. Very private."

The smooth jazzy music played softly and everyone seemed to be looking and whispering about the couple that had just arrived in their company. Franco politely nodded and smiled at some of them and they acknowledged likewise. "It is very dull. I expect it will liven up soon?" he asked. 

"Oh yes. It will, very soon." April replied, grinning at her guest.

"So, your father was a musician? You say was. Is he not with us anymore?"

"He died when I was fifteen." April rested her arms on the table and her mind drifted momentarily, thinking of yet another man in her life she once admired. "He was a very good musician, although not as famous as some."

"I see. I am sorry to hear of that."

"No. It's ok."

Franco turned quickly to notice the waitress that had arrived at their table. She was tall, blonde hair tied back and wearing only a black thong. His eyes rested upon her full breasts, dark pink raised areola and nipples rouged the same colour as her lipstick. "Can I get you anything, Sir, Madam?"

"Yes. I think your best champagne would be nice right now."

"No sir. I was referring to me?" the waitress replied.

Franco looked back at April who was smiling once again. She studied the look of surprise upon his face and waited for him to say something. "What is this?"

"She wants to know what you want of her?"

"Of her?"

"Yes. Her body and her affections perhaps."

"But April, I don't understand?"

"Come now Franco, I think you understand what she means. What is your name?" April asked the waitress.

"Marion Madam."

"Well Marion, I think Franco would like you to remove your thong first of all."

Marion slowly slipped the thong down her thighs and bent forwards to remove them. "Stay!" April ordered. "Stay like that, turn and let Franco take a look at you from behind."

"This is not what I expected." Franco laughed. Marion turned, her buttocks facing him and his eyes fixed upon the partly open crease that gave him a view of her lips, folded like petals surrounded by a thin nest of dark blonde pubic hair.

"You're looking." April said. And so was every other guest in the room. Their eyes also fixed upon Franco, expressionless and silent. "Do you like what you see?"

"I'm not sure what this is all about."

"Its about you and Marion. What would you like to do to her?"

Franco laughed, this time with a hint of nervousness. "I can think of lots of things I would like to do to her. What is more important, it is what she is doing to me right now."

"And what would that be?" April asked.

"Well..." Once again she waited for his answer. "Is this some kind of trick?"

"Why would it be? Marion, stand up straight and show Franco what your speciality is."

Marion turned him gently and knelt between his open thighs looking him in the face. She began to loosen his jacket and then open his trouser buttons. Franco remained motionless, turning to April and then at what Marion was doing. Slowly and gently she placed her hand inside and he felt her touch him. He was limp and her actions soon began to change that. The guests could see only Marion with her hand inside his garments, but it was Franco alone who could feel it. His manhood becoming harder each stroke she gave him. "Are you enjoying it?" April asked. 

"I am a man. Of course I am enjoying it." April watched as his expression shown signs of fighting his feelings. He was becoming aroused and yet he resisted because of where he was and the situation he found himself in. 

"Marion how is he?"

"He is very hard Madam, and very wet."

"Make him cum."

"Yes Madam."

Marion's strokes became more rapid and Franco found it even harder to resist. He was in a world trapped between pleasure and anxiety and the pleasure took over as he threw his head back and began to breathe rapidly. April watched his eyes close tight as his body began to buck on the chair and he bit his lower lip letting out a moan of satisfaction. Marion stopped and then stood up. "It is done Madam." 

"Thank you, that will be all for now." April dismissed her and she walked away slowly swaying and swinging her thong in her hand. Franco remained still and opened his eyes, turning to April.

"Why did you do that?" he asked.

"It was what you wanted."

"I never expected that to happen. What is this place?"

"It is my dream made reality." April replied. 

"Yours? You own this club?"

"Just this basement, yes."

"Then all I can say is, you are a strange girl April and your sense of fun is outrageous. What happens now?"

"Follow me."

April led the way through the tables and Franco followed, fastening his trousers and nodding and smiling at the guests that still had their eyes fixed upon him, and still expressionless. "And who are they?" he asked himself.

They entered a room and April closed the door behind them. In the room was a desk and chair, lit only by a lamp-stand. April leaned against the table and folded her arms looking at him. "You want me don't you Franco?"

"For the contract? Yes."

She laughed. "That and something else?"

"You mean, do I want to make love to you? What man could resist that opportunity? But this I still don't understand. Why are you playing this game?"

"What game?"

"You invite me here and then allow this to happen. Why?"

She moved towards him and they stood close, without embrace. Franco was pulled in by her insatiable attraction, leaning in to kiss her. She opened her lips and he sucked upon her tongue until their kiss grew passionate. His hand found the split in her dress, which ran along her smooth thigh, and April grasped his wrist before he reached her hip, parting the kiss quickly. "No. Not yet."

"What do you mean?"

"I need a favour," she told him.

"What kind of favour?"

"Will you do anything for me. Anything I ask of you?"

"Yes. To be able to touch you and make love to you, I will do anything."

"Then sit down and listen to me."

He sat down and brushed back his hair, watching her every move she made as she opened the draw of the desk. April took out a large green envelope and placed it on the top. "This is important. And I need your word that you will do this favour for me." Franco had calmed himself and began to wonder what help she wanted. "I want you to deliver this." She handed him the envelope. It was bulky but soft to the touch.

"What is it?"

"That doesn't matter. Will you do it for me?" April sat astride his lap, allowing the dress to fall open along the splits so that he could see her pale blue panties tight against her groin. He watched as she gently slid forwards, allowing the neckline to plunge and give him a view of her silken skin and the well-rounded form of her breast. 

"Tell me more. Where am I to deliver this?"

"When you return to Naples, you must deliver it to the name and address of the person written on the label." Franco looked and read it.

"I know this person."

"Yes I know you do," she replied, stroking his face with the backs of her fingers gently. "That is why I am asking you for this favour." She gently pulled his face to hers and then kissed him. Franco wanted more of the kiss, but she placed her fingers upon his lips. "No."

"Then I accept. Can we make love now?"

"Not yet. I must be sure that you do this for me."

"Of course I will."

"No. Not now and not here." Her slender fingers stroked his lips as he looked at her; his expression was full of curiosity.

"When?" 

"When I come to Italy to work for you."

"But that isn't certain. Does this mean that you accept the contract?"

"Of course." She smiled and then kissed him. He held her close and she realised that the envelope was between them and quickly pulled back. "You must take care of it. Keep it safe, do not bend it or open it for any reason."


April Rising



"What is in it?" he asked.

"A gift." April told him. She smiled and stared into his luscious brown eyes.

Later, the car returned. The driver parked and waited where he had dropped his passengers earlier that evening and within minutes the side doors opened. Franco was let out by Alfred and he turned to thank him.

"My pleasure sir." Alfred bowed and then closed the doors. Franco stood and thought about what had happened that evening and looked at the envelope in his hand. He stepped into the car and commanded the driver to return him to his hotel.

3. 

April watched as Alfred secured the doors. He turned and walked past her, this time there was no broad smile; instead he simply ignored her presence as if she was not there.

"Well done... well done." Marion appeared as if from nowhere and clapped her hands slowly. She stood behind April in the shadows. "I think that went rather well don't you?" April turned to look at her. She was now dressed and no longer the subservient waitress she had been earlier that evening. "I have paid the guests. They are ready to leave."

"I'm not sure if this is the right thing." April said. Marion moved closer, her face now visible and brandishing a triumphant smile. "Besides, I have never deceived anyone before."

"Oh? I am sure you have." Marion rested her outstretched arms on either side of April, placing her between herself and the wall. "You wanted this and together we can kill two birds with one stone. All you have to do is deny you ever came here tonight."

"And the driver?"

"The driver works for me. You see, everything is planned. All that remains is..." Marion ran a finger down April's hair, continuing across her cheek and stopping at her smooth open lips. "All that remains is your silence."

"I'm sorry I ever agreed to this."

"It's not the time for regrets. Not now that we have come this far."

"What did Franco do? Why do you hate him so much?"

Marion stepped back and her expression changed. "For what he did to my sister. I promised to get even, and now I have that chance, thanks to meeting you."

"And all I have to do is deny what happened?"

"Yes. And you get even too don't forget. Two birds, one stone. Revenge can be so sweet my dear April...so sweet."

"I need a cab. I have had enough for one night." April replied. Marion clicked her fingers and Alfred instantly appeared from the shadows of the narrow passage.

"You heard the lady, Alfred. Call a cab to collect her at the front entrance."

April returned to her apartment, showered and relaxed on her bed with the video camera in her hands. She re-wound the videocassette to the beginning of her solo performance that she recorded late that afternoon. Switched on the music centre with a remote control and continued to play the music by Strauss that she loved so much. 

She was going to take a look at the tape, but the piece of music that was playing reminded her once more of her father. It was his favourite too. Memories began to flood into her mind of the time she sat on the balcony in the concert hall and watched her father conducting the very same piece. He did it with grace and with such confidence, feeling every part of the music and every instrument.

The phone rang at her bedside. She was woken from the flashback and noticed the time. It was late and she was not expecting anyone to call her, especially on her private number.

"Hello?"

"April? It's me, Franco," the voice told her. She was startled to even believe that he would contact her again so soon.

"How do you get my number?"

"That isn't difficult for me. I needed to speak to you. I can't sleep." She listened with concern. This was not supposed to happen. She knelt on the bed holding the towel around her. "Hello, April, are you there?"

"Yes."

"Like I said, I could not sleep. Tonight was so strange and I can't stop thinking about it. You exploited one of my weaknesses and nobody has ever done that before without me telling them. I need to see you."

"No!"

"Listen....don't hang up. Please, let me speak. Why is this gift for Michaelangelo so important? Why did you set me up?"

"Set you up?"

"I mean, why did you have to play that game? Don't get me wrong April, I enjoyed it. I know it was all arranged for me. I just thought there would be more."

"It wasn't a game."

"Then I don't understand. Of course, I will deliver the gift for you if that is the way you want it. And I will be looking forward to your working for me very soon. I will draft the contract right away and have it sent to you. But, this is so ridiculous, why can't we be together for a few hours. I can have my car collect you right away and let us forget my fetishes and fantasies for tonight."

"No Franco." She replaced the receiver back quickly, cutting him off. 

She knelt for a while wondering what to do. This was not part of the plan. It was to be a meeting; the nightclub and that would be it. Within a few days the task would have been achieved, both Franco and Michaelangelo would be dead. Nobody would ever find out who had done it and if they investigated, then denial would allow them to get away with it. She lay back and bit her thumbnail nervously, her mind racing with thoughts of both regret and guilt. She trusted Marion explicitly.

Franco sat in his hotel room holding the phone in his hand. The faint sound of the disconnected line still purred as he thought and then he replaced the receiver wishing that April had taken up his offer. He wanted her so much and it had been a long time since he yearned so much for a woman like her. But he was also prepared to dismiss her strange behaviour, realising that she was simply playing with him, toying with his deep sexual emotions.

He called the operator asking for a line direct to Michaelangelo Menotti. It would be late back home, but he felt the call was now important. Within minutes Michaelangelo answered.

"Its Franco here, Franco DiBarras. I am so sorry to trouble you at such a late hour my friend but something is bothering me..."

April posed so naturally for the camera. She didn't need much prompting from the photographer as he stood for him in the way he expected. The flowing silk outfit she wore took on the shape it was supposed to in the breeze of the fan, and her form complimented it as it clinged to all the right parts of her body, the material pressing against her breasts, her nipple sharply defined.

"That is fantastic baby. Ok, call it a day," the photographer, told her. She relaxed and stood down from the set where her personal makeover artist waited to escort her to the dressing room. "Same time tomorrow April, please."

"No problem." she replied, kissing him gently on the cheek.

When she entered the dressing room, Franco was sitting at the dressing table. April was astounded to find him there. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I would pay you a visit."

"But you're supposed to be flying back to Naples."

"I cancelled my flight until a later date."

"You can't!"

"But I did. I needed to see you again."

April turned to her makeover artist, a sheepish bespectacled girl who seemed just as surprised as April to find Franco had invited himself in. "Why didn't you tell me?" April asked her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know he was here."

"Ok, leave us alone." The girl left in haste, closing the door behind her. April began to strip from the outfit that she wore with her back towards him. He watched intently as she stood naked except for her white briefs in front of him.

"Please, turn around, atleast let me see you," he requested. April cupped her breasts and turned to him, smiling. Despite her peculiar behaviour that still remained a mystery to him, she was in his eyes a very beautiful woman, totally irresistible. And April had equal thoughts about him. Out of all the men that she had met in her life so far, Franco was the most stunning. Not only did this man have power and wealth, but also immense physical attraction.

"Why didn't you come to me when I called you?" he asked. He stood and walked towards her. "I thought our little game had just begun."

"I was tired. It had been a long day." He took her left hand and gently eased it away from her. His eyes met with her breast and a nipple that shown what she was feeling in its erectness. "It was just a little something that I had arranged. I knew that you would enjoy it. As well as your favour of course."

"Ahh..Yes, the gift." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. She watched him, savouring each tender lick of his tongue as his eyes looked into hers. 

"Michaelangelo was a very good friend of my father," she began to explain. "It is just something I wanted him to have."

"Of course." His kisses moved along the back of her hand with his eyes still fixed, watching her eyes fill with desire he was instilling. "Most people put gifts in little boxes wrapped in pretty paper." 

"I had no time. I was very busy."

"Well, now I have more time here, to spend with you, maybe you could make it look more presentable." April was jolted by his unthinkable suggestion and quickly pulled her hand away.

"No."

"Why not?" he asked. She looked at him, her mind clutching for an answer that she did not have. "Is anything the matter?"

"No, no."

"I think there is. You are hiding something."

"What would I be hiding?" She began to look around the room for clothing, finding her brassiere; she began to put it on.

"Here let me fasten it for you." April lifted her hair for him as he began to fasten the clasps. He ran his fingers over her shoulder gently and his touch made her quiver, her eyes closed wanting more. It was one of the most sensitive erogenous parts of her body. He turned her around and their lips met. A kiss, which he had forced upon her, but she had found irresistible as it grew more passionate with every passing second.

"I want you to fuck me," she whispered. Franco lifted her, his hands grasping her buttocks as she threw her arms around him, continuing the kiss. He carried her to the dressing table, sat her upon it, scattering its contents aside. 

April opened her thighs wide as his hand touched her groin, feeling her warm dampness. There was a pair of scissors at hand and he took them, cutting the waistband of her briefs on both her hips allowing the material to fall away, exposing her sex. He then cut her bra between her breasts. Clasping them in his hands, he squeezed them gently together to enable him to kiss and suck them as she tried to pull off his jacket. Franco helped her, throwing it to the ground. Seeing her now open to him made him pause. 

Franco sank onto his knees and placed his fingers upon her pussy lips. She felt him part her, admiring her glistening petals and opening up her fresh pink private domain. There before him was everything he had imagined in his dreams. Then she felt his tongue tasting her, warm and penetrating. He brushed her tiny clitoris, enticing it from its protective hood and sending waves of ecstasy through her. Her fantasy came true atlast as she had longed to feel him doing that. The touch of his tongue exactly as she had predicted it would be. His finger going deeper into her made her shudder and sigh with pleasure. 

He stood and with his arms leaning on either side of her, they kissed, passionately. April could taste her sex on his lips and that made everything more exciting. Never before had she been given oral sex until that moment. Franco was the first. Without hesitation, she unbuttoned his trousers and found him hard between her fingers, feeling the shape and girth of him. Again, she had dreamed of taking him in her mouth. The other night at the nightclub, she wanted to be in Marion's place, doing the things she was doing to him. 

"Are you ready?" he whispered. Although she was ready there was something else she needed to make clear to him. 

"Be gentle," she gasped softly. "It's my first time."

He paused for a moment and thought of what she had just confessed. It was something he had never expected. She was one of the most beautiful women in the world and still a virgin. He respected her for that and instead of thrusting deep and hard, he allowed her to guide him between her lips and slowly he pressed into her. 

April gave out a gasp as she felt him enter her. It was no different at first to the fingers she had become accustomed to. Then gently he began to push deeper. She gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin.

"Are you sure you are ready?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Tell me if it hurts you. I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ok. I'm sorry."

"There is no need to be sorry April. I never realised that you would be a virgin. That fact only makes this time more precious to me."

She smiled, her eyes closed gently and she released her grip on his skin. "Thank you." Franco gave her a gentle thrust, sending his manhood as far inside of her as he could. Once more her fingers gripped in response. It was not pain, but the feeling of fullness and the intimacy that went with it. 

"I promise I will not cum inside of you," he whispered gently. It was a desire she craved, but she knew that for him to release himself into her was not sensible. Not only was she a virgin, but also she was ripe and fertile and this moment was only for pleasure and not for procreation.

He began to push and retract, slowly at first, gauging her response. April could feel her orgasm growing, she began to ride it and savour the journey to her climax. Franco gave her that privilege as her cries grew louder and he knew that she had peaked when her fingernails dug into his skin and her body trembled. To April it was like no other orgasmic release she had ever felt before. This time it was not self induced, this time her mantra was not music and this time the fantasies were real. And now instead of ceasing, Franco began to slow his rhythm, allowing the feelings in her to dwell. 

"Enjoy it my precious," he told her. "Let me take you where you have never been before." Now she knew the difference. Franco gave her an orgasm that lasted far beyond her realised expectations. Then he reached his own limits under the strength of such passion. He withdrew and she felt the warm spurt of his cum hit her navel as he groaned out his own orgasmic release in harmony with hers.

Together they began to relax and the kissing was no longer fervent, but gentle and loving. April felt a calming spread through her. Something she was saving for someone special had now been completed, and yet Franco was still a stranger to her. And then he whispered something, which made her think. "I love you." 

There was a knock at the door. "Miss, may I come in?" the voice asked. It was her makeover artist. Franco pulled away from her so that she could make herself decent.

"I will be free in a moment." April replied.

"The photographer wishes to close the studio."

"Tell him to wait, I won't be long." Franco smiled and held her close, sealing their past few moments with another long meaningful kiss.

4.

The room was dim. Lit only by a pink shaded wall light and below it a bed, on which Marion lay naked, crying with pleasure. Her wrists handcuffed to the wall, her breasts heaving and shuddering as she bucked.

"Oh yes, yes!" Her voice repeated as she shuck her head from side to side in a wild display of gratification. And beside her was the sex slave, a muscular man, young and dark tanned with sapphire blue eyes, his fingers inside her sex, stroking her to an orgasmic climax. 

The dwarf servant, Alfred entered the room carrying a mobile phone and the sex slave withdrew his tender touches.

"Miss Marion, an important call." Marion stopped; her breathing was heavy with a look of anguish on her face. She hated being disturbed during times of extreme ecstasy. 

"How many times have I told you never to disturb me?"

"But this is Miss April." Alfred replied. The slave released her right hand from the cuff so that she could take the call.

"What is it April? This better be urgent."

"It is. Very urgent." April replied. "Franco did not return as we expected."

"What? What do you mean he didn't return as expected? This is not a good time for silly jokes."

"I'm not joking. It isn't going to happen."

Marion sat herself up and dismissed her slave and servant. "Ok. So you had better explain. And it better be good."

"I think he knows something. I knew this was a bad idea."

April sat in her lounge watching the video of herself with the sound turned down.

"I was with him this afternoon and I asked him to return the letter."

"Did you tell him that it was a bomb?" 

"No, I'm not that stupid."

"You mean we did all that for nothing?"

"Yes. I told you, it was a bad idea. We should never have gone this far."

"So what do we do now?" Marion asked.

"Leave it with me." April disconnected her phone and placed it beside her as Franco's hand touched hers. Together, they watched the video and the finale that played out before them. April's eyes widened, a pleasurable grin on her face as the sight of herself on screen, reaching her climax to the music, filled her with the feelings of sexual desire, to re-live the moment once more.

Franco touched her face, watching her expression as she closed her eyes and bit gently into her lip. "You like pleasuring yourself I see?" he whispered. She nodded her head in reply. "And you like to watch yourself?" His hand moved down and touched her covered breast, the hardness of her nipple on his fingertips. "The music, it gives you pleasure?" Her eyes opened slightly and she looked at him. 

"This is my thing. I have always pleasured myself to this particular piece since I can remember." Franco smiled and reached over to kiss her.

April turned on the music centre. He lay and watched from the bed at her naked form turn around and walk slowly towards him. Everything lit by the dull atmospheric candlelight. The music began to play and the room filled with sound. Another one of her classical favourites by Stravinsky. She straddled his hips and leaned forward, kissing his forehead and onto his nose. His eyes closed, feeling her tender affections as her breasts gently brushed against his chest. As their tongues entwined she felt his hands touching her buttocks, a straying finger exploring her sex and his hardness pressing against her. She sat up, and for the first time, she was able to see his manhood, proudly standing, its skin darker than the skin on her navel and its head unhooded. Her fingers caressed, feeling the veins that stood out like inverted rivulets. It had not been the first time she had touched a man in that way.

He raised his hands, clasping her breasts affectionately. The feel of him in her fingers and his upon her nipples sent a soothing wave of pleasure through her body. She felt the need to do something that only existed within her fantasies. She looked at him and smiled and slid along his legs until positioned to take his manhood into her mouth. The first taste of a man was not as she expected as her tongue explored every part of his glans and then the bitterness of his precum became yet another sensation. Franco brushed his hands through her hair, moaning with his appreciation of what she was doing. She increased her actions, taking him deeper into her mouth, sucking and licking, savouring its soft skin against her tongue. His hand pressed more firmly on her head and his hips began to buck with the rhythm at which she pleased him. His moans became louder as he murmered something under his breath and suddenly without warning she felt his warm charge flow into her throat. She had no alternative but to swallow. With the second deluge of cum she was able to hold it, allowing it to cover his manhood in a mingled concoction with her own saliva. She released him, using her slender hand to expel yet another charge that flowed like white syrup over her fingers. 




April Rising



For some reason, the music no longer seemed important. Franco had replaced that certain magic. The enchantment of making love to the music itself had become second place in the reality of things. This was a real man, a real lover and together they made their own kind of music. Unlike the younger men she once teased in foreplay in her not to distant past, Franco remained hard. And unlike the past, she was now ready to take the intensity of sexual intercourse. She desired to take control.

Slowly, April slipped his manhood into her. She was wet and his passage seemed easier now as she pressed down. He held her hips allowing her to gently ride him, using her fingers to touch her clitoris, producing a combination of masturbation and the feel of him inside. The wave of tingling sensations flooded her senses as she reached the pinnacle of her orgasm. The release was tremendous and a new sensation that she had now discovered. 

Franco smiled up at her. He was the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes upon and now he looked even more delicious, having fulfilled one of her wildest dreams. She leaned towards him once more and lay in his arms, feeling his warmth and the caress of his fingers as they played through her hair. The closeness of a man had never seemed the same as that feeling she now had. 

The only man that had ever shown her affection before was her father until now. Despite her hypnotic beauty, she had deprived herself of sexual pleasures with others. Her relationships with men in the past were kept distant, to prevent her temptations taking over. Nothing more than a deep kiss sometimes, with no feelings, that gave them the impression that she was cold. 

It was not that she hated men or sex. It was deeper than that. April was grieving in her own way the sudden death of the man she loved so much, as if she believed that she could belong to no other. Then, the self-loving and vanity took over as the years went by. In a way, it gave her self-confidence to become who she was and made making love to herself and the music more important than seeking love elsewhere. 

The chance meeting with Franco DiBarras was an opportunity for her to meet a man she admired from afar for so many years and also a means of revenge, in getting even with his friend Michaelangelo Menotti, who she believed was responsible for her fathers suicide. And it was Marion who would mastermind the plan that would satisfy them both. But April was not sure that Franco should be harmed in all of this. She had never met him until now and before that, killing a stranger seemed something she could partly accept. Now it was different. Menotti was the only one she wanted dead to satisfy her grief, not Franco.

"I have the envelope at my hotel if you want it returning," he said. She leaned up beside him and ran her fingers over his chest, deep in thought. " I can have it sent to you."

"Yes! I want it back." Her ambitious reply made him wonder.

"Tell me what is in it? I need to know. Don't keep it a mystery anymore."

"Like I said, it is a gift from me to Michaelangelo. Nothing special."

"That is interesting, because I spoke to him and told him about you. It took him some time before he realised who you were."

"And?"

"He remembers you. The daughter of his colleague, Andrew Rising, a brilliant conductor. It seems he respected your father."

"Is that so?"

"And it seems that you don't agree with that."

April threw back the bed quilt and dashed to the bathroom. That was enough to convince Franco that there was something not only mysterious about the envelope, but the whole set up he had found himself part of. There were secrets and lies surrounding the whole thing and although he respected her and made the journey to England especially to meet her, now he found himself involved in something that threatened his life perhaps.

He followed her into the bathroom. She sat on the toilet, her mind in deep thought, as if he was not there. "Tell me what is in the envelope and I promise I will keep it just between us. It will go no further." April looked up at him and realised just how much this plan was going all wrong.

"You must not open it under any circumstances."

"Why? You have to tell me." He knelt before her and took her hand in his. "What is in the envelope?"

"It's a bomb."

"A bomb? What kind of bomb?"

"A letter bomb. It will explode as soon as Michaelangelo opens it." Franco stood up and looked at her in disbelief. The audacity of the suggestion that she had plotted to kill his friend was devastating, and he was to be the carrier, the means of delivering it, his nemesis.

"You plotted to kill Michaelangelo? But why?"

"Because of what he did to my father."

"But, what did he do that was so terrible. I don't understand."

"He forced him to take his own life." 

"How?" 

April explained the time when she was with her father in Paris and Michaelangelo and he had an argument in the hotel room. "My father wrote a composition which he gave to him. Michaelangelo said that the music was similar to one that he had written months before and he accused my father of stealing it. They argued for a long time, almost fighting and then Michaelangelo told him that if he dared to perform it at the concert he would sue him."

"And did the composition belong to Michaelangelo?" Franco asked.

"Yes. My father reworked it and made lots of alterations and improvements. So many that he made it his own work. There was very little of the original score that Michaelangelo had written."

"And then?"

"Two days later my father conducted at a concert that Michaelangelo could not attend. He practiced the additional piece and that evening it was performed for the very first time. My father told the audience that it was his latest composition and Michaelangelo found out. They became enemies and months later my father lost everything he had. The court agreed with Michaelangelo that the composition was originally his. My father was ruined."

The memories flooded back and April began to sob as Franco held her tightly. "I didn't know about this. Michaelangelo is a very private man, he never mentioned this to me at all." As he held her, he realised that if he had delivered the letter bomb, then he too would also be a victim. There was no doubt that he would have been with Michaelangelo when he opened it. 

"I'm sorry Franco."

"You do know that this bomb would have injured or killed me also don't you?"

April lifted her head from his shoulder. He wiped the tears from her eyes as she looked back at him. "Yes. And that part of the plan was not my doing."

"Then you are not alone in this?"

"No. I could never mastermind a plan like that on my own."

"Then who?"

She took his hand and walked with him back into the bedroom. Together they sat and she explained the nightclub to him. "It isn't my club. That was a way of getting you there so that I could hand you the envelope. Not only that it was also someone's idea of humiliating you at the same time."

Franco was becoming more confused. He knew that April herself was not the kind of person who could go that far. He let her continue;

"Three months ago I met Marion, the waitress at the nightclub. She found out about my father and Michaelangelo and knew that I was angry inside about what had happened. She also found out that you had an interest in me and discovered that you were trying to arrange a meeting with me to discuss a contract and she also found out how interested I was in you. Well, more than just interested, she knew that I had a thing about you"

He smiled and stroked her face gently. "This thing is obviously that you wanted me?"

"Yes. From a distance, the first time I saw you, I have always wanted to meet you. I fell in love with you I suppose, if that is ever possible."

"In that case, I must fall in love with every beautiful woman that I see."

"No Franco, I'm serious. I had a crush on you. As far as I was concerned, you were the most handsome man I ever saw. And when I found out that you wanted to meet me I was so overwhelmed."

"And Marion? Where does she come into this?"

"Marion came to see me. She approached me as an agent and offered me a partnership in a project she was planning in the US. The promise of becoming a TV presenter was irresistible and I realised that this could be something I might need in the future. But then as the weeks went by I began to realise that she had no project, and her interest in me was for her own purpose. She wanted to use me to get back at you."

"Me? Am I supposed to know her?"

"No. But there is someone you knew, that links you two together."

"Who?"

"Her sister. You and her once lived together. She drowned in an accident."

Franco stood up quickly and suddenly remembered that tragic evening in Capri more than ten years ago. "Yvette! This can't be happening."

"I don't even know her sisters name. But whatever happened Franco she feels you were responsible for her drowning. She wants to even the score."

"I don't understand. I was not to blame."

"I don't know all the reasons for her wanting you dead. But what I do know is that you and Michaelangelo became close friends and Marion convinced me that I too could get even with someone who I grew to hate so much. But then, when I realised that you were involved in her plan, the more I wanted this whole thing to end."

"Then why did you go ahead with it? Why didn't you end it?"

"Because Marion is a very powerful and dangerous person Franco. She threatened me. I saw the things she could do to me if I didn't go along with it." 

Now things were beginning to become clearer to him. Yvette was someone he had fallen in love with and she was now in his past. That evening would always be in his memory, as Yvette tumbled and fell into the harbour from the yacht. She had drunk herself into a rage and both of them argued. She told him that she was leaving the party for their hotel room and he was not to follow. The next day her body was found.

Franco sat beside her on the bed again and April put her arm around his shoulders, this time to console him of sad memories. "You were in love with this girl?"

"Yes. She was everything to me. I was so upset when that accident happened, but I was not to blame. Of course, I knew that her family had ideas of their own. For months they threatened me and then it all stopped. I began to rebuild my life and career from then on. And now this."

"Believe me Franco, I am so sorry."

"Wait. If I'd have gone back to Naples when I should, then..."

5.

A thick mist had settled across the estuary in the cold of the autumn morning. The tugboat chugged its way to the centre of the river and then the engines stopped. Only the sound of the small waves hitting the hull could be heard as Franco moved to the stern and looked over the side. In his gloved hands was the envelope. He took one last look at it and then dropped it into the cold water, watching it float at first and then disappear out of sight as it sank into the murky river.

April stepped up behind him and he turned his head towards her. "That's it. It can't do any harm now," he said. She hugged him, squeezing his arm tightly and giving out a sigh of relief. He tapped her hand and gently kissed her on the head. It was the only way they knew of disposing of the letter bomb.

Franco nodded his orders to the pilot to return to the harbour. The mist began to lift slightly as the morning air warmed in the orange glow of the sunrise. They both sat on the coiled hawser; April linked his arm, cuddling close not only for warmth but affection as the slow moving boat continued on its way. He looked at her and lifted her chin towards his stare "I love your eyes. You have wonderful blue eyes that speak by themselves," he told her. She smiled at him as he gazed into them. "I am drowning in them." She laughed, almost a giggle, finding his comment quite amusing.

"I bet you say that to every girl you meet?"

"No, not every one. Only those with eyes that are as beautiful as yours."

"Oh. And how many beautiful eyes have you met so far?" she asked.

"Countless. But then, yours are the most beautiful so far."

"You say they speak by themselves? What are they saying to you?"

"They are telling me that I am the luckiest man alive right now."

Her smile subsided somewhat. She had detected the meaning of what he meant and he was right to add that, because he was lucky to be where he was instead of returning to Naples when he had originally planned. "I know that deep inside you will never forgive me for setting you up. I didn't do anything to stop you returning..."

He pressed two fingers against her lips to prevent her from speaking. "Hush. You did do something. You made me stay just by being who you are. I couldn't leave without seeing you again."

She still doubted his reason and felt so guilty inside. To appease the moment she smiled again and drew closer to meet his kiss. "Have you ever been to a slosh?" she asked him, after they parted their lips. 

"What on earth is a slosh?"

"Good, then its obvious you haven't."

"But I get the feeling that you are going to take me to one, right?" April nodded her reply with a mischievous grin.

The tugboat pilot accepted his fee for the private trip and the two lovers disembarked and got into the waiting car. Then April realised something she had forgotten about. The driver was the same man who drove them to the nightclub and Marion's words resounded in her head; "The driver works for me." 

"So where to now?" Franco asked. April stared from the rear seat into the driver's rear view mirror, looking at him. She was horrified to notice him. "April? Are you ok? You look as if you have seen a ghost or something."

"No! I'm ok. I think we should go back to my apartment for a while."

"That's fine by me. This slosh comes later perhaps?"

"Of course."

During the journey through the morning traffic the driver kept on looking at her now and then, using his mirror, and April could feel his glances. Franco was oblivious to what she knew, but now there was a feeling of danger. Marion and those who worked for her were capable of doing anything.

"Driver? This isn't the way we came." Franco said.

"It's a diversion sir, to escape the heavy traffic," the driver replied.

"Sorry, I am a stranger in this city, forgive my intrusion."

"That's fine sir, no problem." April gripped Franco's hand tightly.

"What is it?" Franco asked. She just looked back at him with a worried expression, gripping even tighter. "Tell me?"

"Perhaps the lady isn't feeling well sir?" the driver asked.

"April, are you feeling ill?"

Suddenly the car began to speed along a slip road leading onto a highway that led out of the city. "Just sit tight and I'll have you home in no time," the driver explained. Franco began to realise that something was seriously wrong.

"Wait. Where are you taking us?"

"Home."

"This isn't the way to Miss Rising's apartment you fool."

"Did I say it was sir?"

"Turn back now!"

"Make me," the driver replied, now looking at April full on in the rear mirror with a malevolent grin on his face. She closed her eyes as panic struck her, but she fought it off, she had to be strong, she had once again compromised not only Franco's life, but now her own.

"Don't worry darling, I'll sort this out soon enough." Franco assured her.

The drive took them into the countryside and to a house set back from a quiet country road. The car turned into a driveway through open gates and as they continued the gates shut behind them automatically. "Where is this?"

"It's where Marion lives." April replied.

The house was large, spread out on one level and the car drew up to the front door. There were other cars parked nearby of all types including one distinctive green Lamborghini. The driver unlocked the doors and Franco jumped out to confront him, but he found himself restrained by two men in dark suits that seem appear from nowhere. They each held him by his arms. "Let me go!"

"Oh please, lets not have all this fuss." Marion came out of the house through the front door and walked towards Franco. "Let him go boys."

"The waitress. So we meet again."

"Look, I'm no more a waitress than you are a brain surgeon. But lets not go into that now. Welcome to my humble abode Mister DiBarras, I have been so looking forwards to meeting you again."

April remained seated in the car. The driver leaned on the door waiting for her to get out. "You staying there all day?" he asked. She looked at him and then got out quickly, slamming the door shut.

"Franco I'm sorry this had to happen."

"Don't worry April, it seems that Marion here is very determined to have me for a guest." He looked at Marion and smiled at her. "I hope that we are welcome."

"Of course. There is a little unfinished business to tend to. Please go inside."

Inside the house seemed huge. They followed their host into a drawing room decorated with erotic paintings hanging from the walls and a large window that spread from wall to wall overlooking a lawn that seemed to go on forever. The morning sun shon into the room making it airy and light. 

"Please make yourselves at home. Alfred take their coats for them."

Alfred, the dwarf servant waited for Franco and April to remove their coats and then left the room with them draped over one arm. Franco watched as the little man struggled somewhat to close the door behind him. "You have a strange way of inviting your guests."

"Sorry about that. But it was the only way I knew I could you here. Would you two care for some refreshments? Perhaps some breakfast?"

"No thank you, we already ate." April replied.

"This is a very nice house you have Marion." Franco told her.

"Yes it is. It's a pity you never got to see it twelve years ago." Marion replied.

"Ahh yes, I was invited by Yvette, but had other things to do."

"Why are we here Marion?" April asked, cutting to the chase to prevent further false pleasantries that might begin to arise.

"Well, I thought a little fun might be in order."

"What you mean is; you want to kill me?" Franco said. He had now adjusted himself to the fact that they had both been kidnapped. 

"Did I say that?" Marion asked. "You really do have a very low opinion of me Franco. I am very disappointed in you."

"He knows about the letter bomb, Marion." April explained.

"And you told him everything about our little plan I suppose."

"Everything he needed to know." 

"You know, that was a really good plan if I may say so myself. It's a pity it never happened. And April, you were the weakest link."

"So you intend to have fun with us?" Franco asked. "Like the other night?"

"You enjoyed it."

"Maybe I did. I love the touch of a beautiful woman, especially one that makes me cum as you did. And by the feel of your fingers, I could also detect that you too were enjoying it. Your hand was trembling, perhaps with the desire to have our game go further."

Marion smiled and moved closer to Franco. She ran her finger along his thigh and stopped at his groin. "I love it when I make a man cum. It gives me a sense of control, and domination over him."

"Just like someone else I once knew." Franco replied smirking.

"Yes. But that someone else wrote in her diary about the things you did to her."

"She wanted those things. Surely you can understand that?"

"What are you two talking about?" April asked. She was feeling left out of the conversation and trying to keep ahead of the situation that was unfolding.

"Yvette and Franco." Marion replied.

"What things?"

"Our private little games." Franco replied. He and Marion were locked in eye contact as if communicating with each other's minds, but they were simply locked in a state of verbal one-upmanship, waiting for each other to make another comment.