by Cat Shinier
I think it is pretty seductive imagining the sweat on his body. I would like to embrace him then and there, but alas, I can’t.
“No, Shamar, not at all. Quite the contrary. I can think of ways I’d like to remove it.” And from one second to the next I see passion in his eyes.
“Ma Chérie, don’t make me an offer like that, I just might accept.”
“Darling, I always mean what I say,” I reply.
“Can you hold out for a while longer? I’d like to wait and talk to the other players. Then we can get going.”
I nod, and it does not take very long for the other players to arrive. They’re also greeted enthusiastically by everyone. People pat their shoulders and cheer. Shamar and I are now also on the playing field and mingling with the rest of the audience.
He introduces me to various people and explains to me who everyone is. I am greeted cordially, which is probably because I’m with Shamar. Two more drinks and several conversations later we look at each other and agree that it is time to leave. Shamar takes out his cell phone and says something, presumably asking Ahmad to come and pick us up. Then he nods to me, and we start our retreat.
“Now they’re probably gossiping about us,” I say, walking alongside him.
“Most certainly. But I don’t mind. Do you?”
“No, not really, but I don’t want to get you into trouble.”
He wrinkles his forehead. “What kind of trouble?”
“How should I know?” I respond, shrugging my shoulders. “I don’t know people’s attitudes and customs here.”
Shamar turns around to me and smiles. “We are magnificently naughty. But that does not bother me because it is no one else’s business.”
I take his hand and discover our car in front of the entrance. Ahmad is standing in front of us and holding open the back door. I climb in and move aside to make room for Shamar and Ahmad closes the door again, walks around the car and climbs in behind the wheel. The car is nice and cool, the air-conditioner has been waiting for us, and I can forget the heat outside.
Shamar puts his arm around me and on the way back we exchange deep glances and passionate kisses. The dark windows protect us from people watching us outside and from Ahmad in the driver’s seat.
* * *
When we arrive in our suite, we are all over one another within minutes. I can hardly wait to feel Shamar inside me and it is obvious that he can’t either.
Our clothes leave a path from the door to our bedroom, while we also make good use of the walls. Just as when we were in the elevator together I lean back against the wall, and Shamar strokes me, kisses my breasts to get me hot. When we arrive at the bed, we are both so hungry for one another that we merge immediately. Shamar pulls on a condom and penetrates me, which makes me climax immediately. He has his orgasm pretty fast also. Our love play continues. He retreats again.
And even though he’s just had an orgasm he is so stiff that he pulls over a condom again. He is sitting upright in bed, and I take the opportunity to sit right down on him with my legs spread apart. We look at each other. We are so close. His arms envelop me while his chest touches my breasts and tickles my nipples.
I bury my hands in his hair and kiss him, and we continue at a slower pace while gazing at each other. This kind of closeness and intimacy is so new to me I feel like it creeps right under my skin. In his eyes, I can see the whole range of emotions and in them I see myself reacting to our movements. His lust is my lust. We merge, and finally we have a long and deep orgasm together.
Both of us are satiated and together we enjoy the sweet, soft feeling between us. After a little while, I decide to go swimming and leave for the pool while Shamar fetches his cell phone to call Raoul. I take a lazy nap in the afternoon sun. I have fallen asleep when I am awakened by splashes of water.
Shamar seems to have finished his telephone calls and has jumped in our pool, so I decide to keep him company and we swim together for a while, until Shamar eases himself out of the pool and sits there watching me get out on the other side to lie in the sun. He stares at me while I sprawl, which seems to turn him on, which turns me on. I’ve become more daring anyway, and enjoy having the power to evoke these kinds of reactions in him.
He watches me for a while until he utters in a hoarse voice, “Take off your clothes. I want to see you naked.”
Seeing that we are all alone, and no one can watch us I am quite willing to do so, but I want to up the ante.
“If you want to see me naked you have to take your clothes off, too.” I swim over to him and have him open the back of the top of my bikini.
I use my right hand to hold it up so that it does not slip down immediately. Shamar wants to grab me, but I manage to wiggle away and swim back to where I was sitting before. My bikini straps are floating next to me on the water. I stroke my breasts and slip my hand under the piece of material that covers my breasts.
“Come on, what’s up?” I tease. Shamar is fixating me with a burning hot, passionate look. I am hot, even though I am in the cool water. I slowly release my bikini top and let it drift on the surface of the water. My nipples are dark and hard as Shamar stares at them. I become even more daring and cover each breast, letting my nipples peak out. Shamar swallows as his breathing accelerates. He is about to jump in the water and swim over to me.
“Stay where you are,” I warn him and splash some water in his direction, “Maybe this will cool you down.”
I jump up and down in the water, hmm, feels great. Then I grab my bikini pants and look over at Shamar, who looks like he is gasping for breath. But he is still dressed and sitting on the side of the pool.
“If you want to see more, sweetheart, you are wearing too much.”
With a quick movement of his hips, he pulls off his bathing trunks and throws it aside.
“Don’t stop,” he says breathlessly. I turn around and show him my backside. Then I slowly pull off my bikini bottoms and swim away from him. I splash around in the water and slowly move up and down. Finally, I dive into the water and swim right up to him under the water until I am right in front of him. I move even closer and stand up between his legs. I grab his thighs and pull myself up so that I can briefly kiss his mouth while his penis is between my breasts. I move around, up and down, and right in front of him.
“Do you like this?” I ask innocently.
“Are you kidding? Or do you want me to call you little witch? What are you doing to me? Come over here. I want to be in you. Immediately.”
He grabs my arms, and I swim away again.
“You will be in me, darling,” I purr while I kiss his penis every time I utter a word. Soon several clear drops appear, and his penis looks like it is going to explode.
“Lean back and enjoy it.” I am no expert at what I am doing and don’t know if I am making the right moves, but something I am doing seems to be right, judging from his reactions.
Each time drops appear I lick them off. Shamar moans and his penis quivers. All’s well, I think to myself, and I take it and put it in my mouth, varying the depth, and continuing to lick him.
“Oh God, if you don’t stop, Luna, I will come in your mouth,” but he does not stop and grabs my hair to press my head against himself rhythmically. Then I take over. He shouts and comes in my mouth.
His semen is hot and creamy and runs down my throat before I swallow it. It tastes surprisingly good, tangy and masculine. I like the essence. His orgasm ends, and Shamar looks at me in disbelief.
“Where … I mean how … you are simply unbelievable!” I am really proud of myself to see Shamar speechless. Obviously there is more femininity and sex appeal in me than I would have thought possible.
“I tried it and I had the impression that you liked it. And so I continued …” Slowly I glide back into the water.
“Darling, that was wonderful. You are unbelievable.”
And with these words he also glides back into the water and hugs and kisses me. Then we both dive for our clothe
s, put them back on and lie in the sun to dry. The heat of the sun goes right through every fiber in my body. I feel like I have given the man I love an unforgettable orgasm, and so I feel like a goddess. Does it get any better? While the sun sets behind the dunes in a spectacle that is so colorful, it looks like silent firecrackers have gone off we sit together on the lounger. He has his arms wrapped around me and I have my face against his chest. Tomorrow we fly back to the hotel again.
Chapter Twelve
The Burj Al Arab, one of the most impressive buildings in the world, looms ahead of us. We have been traveling for about 30 minutes after the helicopter had arrived to pick us up at 9 am, forcing us to bid farewell to the carefree weekend mood we were in. The helipad juts out in front of us like a huge plate above the building, and with an elegant swoop the pilot lands the helicopter safely.
Shamar helps me get out of the helicopter, then we wave to the pilot and run into the building with our suitcases. Shamar switches his cell phone on and it rattles and beeps and rings with all of the messages that people have left for him. On the way to our suite Shamar talks to Raoul, who seems to be in a hurry. We reach the door to his suite and after inserting his card, the door opens with a click. I follow him and watch him put out a few things that he wants to wear. Seeing that I don’t have any tasks waiting for me, I decide to grab my book and relax outside on the terrace. But I don’t get very far with that.
“Luna, you have a 2 pm appointment with Raoul today for an interview,” Shamar informs me while he exchanges his leisure clothes for a suit. I’m surprised that I’m still to be interviewed for the job.
“Oh.”
“Is that okay with you, Luna? We can arrange for a different appointment, or drop it altogether if you’d prefer. It was my impression that you wanted to be treated like all of the other members of the group.”
He drops his hands as he’s finished knotting his tie and looks at me inquisitively.
“No, Shamar, I’m surprised though. I hadn’t expected it.” And, I think to myself, why doesn’t he do it instead of Raoul? He knows me much better.
“We talked about it on Friday. I would be too biased for an interview, and I would not be objective. Raoul is looking forward to meeting you.” He answers my question before I have even said it out loud.
I make a half-hearted attempt at smiling. That is why I’m here. I applied for a job. And it would be embarrassing to chicken out now. It would look like I was relying on my relationship with Shamar and as if I was no longer interested in a job. No, I think to myself, I want this interview. And it would also be a step in the direction of spending more time with Shamar.
“No, I’m not worried, Shamar. I was only surprised. Where is the interview going to take place?”
He is finished dressing. He even looks sexy in a suit. I make a mental note that one of these days I will seduce him while he is wearing a suit.
“There is an office here in my suite. You could use it for the interview. Matthew will show you.” He turns around to me and wraps his arms around my waist.
“Is that okay with you?”
I nod. “2 p.m. here. No problem. Do you want me to prepare something to present?”
“No,” he replies and kisses me on the mouth. “Nothing, just be yourself. Raoul is a natural talent as an interviewer. You’ll see.”
He increases the distance between us, and as we leave the bedroom, Matthew is puttering around the living-room.
Shamar gives him some instructions and then says good-bye to me. I watch him leave and feel wistful. I ask Matthew, who is busy arranging flowers, to show me where the office that Shamar mentioned is located. He walks ahead of me and opens a door that is directly below my bedroom on the upper floor. The door leads to a very large office that is divided by a glass wall separating it from a conference room. A large flat screen is affixed to the wall, and I also see a data projector and equipment for video conferences.
The room is sound proof so that conversations in the conference rooms cannot be heard outside the room, a thought that eases my mind for the interview. The desk is large with a screen and keyboard that is lowered into the desk when it is not needed and a state-of-the-art looking printer, scanner and fax machine. The yellow stand-by lights are shining, signaling that the machines are waiting to be used.
The comfortable looking leather couch and armchairs are situated right across from the desk. So this is where I will be having my interview with Raoul. I thank Matthew for showing me around and go back to my room.
I have about two more hours until the interview, but I’m already starting to get nervous. I’ve never been interviewed before except for my interview at the insurance company where I work and I’m not sure what it is going to be like, especially since I don’t know whether Raoul knows anything about Shamar and myself, and what Shamar told him when I disappeared from the rest of the group. But also I don’t want to make any professional mistakes and not get the job offer, so I take some time and have a look at some of the documents that could come in handy for the interview.
At about 1 p.m., I start changing my clothes and opt for a nice, light suit and blouse, which is formal enough for an interview, even by international standards. I’m beginning to feel more secure now that I have my official outfit on and have applied my make-up. I don’t think I can eat a single bite, even though Matthew offered to make me lunch. I only have some water before I go down to the living-room at the appointed time. There I see that Matthew is opening the door for Raoul. We walk towards each other in the living room and shake hands.
“Hi, Miss Buchholz, we met during the presentation on the first evening. My name is Raoul Décoste. Raoul – if you’d like.”
I’m surprised. I had envisioned the greeting to be a bit more formal, so there’s hope.
“Hi Raoul, that’s fine. Please call me Luna.”
“So good that you could take the time for this interview.”
Raoul has dark brown hair and light brown eyes, a fair complexion and is somewhat smaller than Shamar, but he is just as athletic. He looks like an outdoorsy kind of person. He is wearing dark pants and a shirt and tie. He seems nice, but he did that first evening, too. We start moving from the living room in the direction of the office. Matthew walks ahead of us and opens the door, and Raoul, a gentleman, gestures to me so that I walk into the room first. A light lunch has been set on the table in the conference room, and after Matthew offers me a chair to take a seat along the large table he walks over to the door and closes it. I’m now alone with Raoul and vaguely wonder to myself how I’m supposed to eat during an interview. Despite the casual greeting, I’m still pretty nervous. And surprisingly, what follows does not feel really feel like an interview but rather more like a conversation.
Raoul addresses me in French. I had French in school for a few years and spent a few vacations there so that I’m able to converse with him in French. We talk about the weather, the lunch, the hotel, and then talk about more personal things. Raoul tells me that he is from Toronto and that he is bilingual, speaking both English and French. He is the same age as Shamar, 28 years old. He is married and has a little two-year-old daughter. He takes out his wallet and shows me her picture.
I tell him about my family, too and about my best friend, Susan, and my life in Munich. As we talk I can feel myself relaxing more and more. Raoul is quite gracious. We eat and talk and laugh. After an hour that feels more like 30 minutes we decide that it would be more comfortable to sit on the couch and lean back. A short time later Matthew knocks on the door and brings in the coffee and some water, which he places on the table in front of the couch.
Raoul takes his briefcase, which contains some documents, then removes them and places them on the table. Oh boy, I think to myself, now the interview is going to get serious. But I’m no longer nervous and see that Raoul has merely taken out the CV I included with my application, and some other papers that I have not seen before. And since I’m sitting across from Raoul I’m unable to
read them. Raoul gets up and pushes his chair so that it is alongside the couch. He leans back and seems to be looking for something contained in the documents.
Now I finally recognize them. They contain parts of my final exam from last semester. I wonder where he got them? I would really like to know and can no longer contain myself. Raoul smiles and rolls his eyes.
“Seeing that we support the university it is easier for us to get ahold of documents like these. People don’t ask as many questions, and we assure people that the documents will be treated confidentially.”
I should have known that money opens these channels, too. I wonder whether he does that with every applicant. Well, at least I have nothing to hide. So Raoul starts asking me questions that pertain to the exams, and he wants to know why I gave the answers I did. He asks very specific questions and suddenly I feel right at home and in my element. I could tell him all sorts of things about the various kinds there are – the oil reservoirs in the ground along which the migration process of the oil from the parent rock can be traced. Raoul listens to me and seems genuinely interested. Sometimes he asks questions and takes notes.
He wants to know what level my IT expertise is at in my area of specialization. And in particular what I know about geological software. He also wants to know if I’d be willing to work abroad and if there is anything that would keep me from getting a green card. Raoul is both friendly and professional, and I wonder why I got myself all worked up about this interview. After a while, he glances at his watch and says that he is running late and that he has another meeting scheduled and must get going.
When I check the time, I realize that Raoul and I have talked for about three hours. I wonder if he interviewed the other applicants for that amount of time, too. Probably not, because he and Shamar would not have had enough time. We get up and leave the office, and I walk Raoul over to the elevator. We say goodbye and he’s off. What an unusual afternoon.
