Saved By A Billionaire Brit

by Sandra Dee

  "The great thing about digital cameras is that they free you from fear and hesitation. You can take unlimited photos and simply delete what you don't like. I don't usually have much time to indulge in photography as a serious hobby, but I love doing it. I'm keen to help you with something I enjoy so much."

  John was obviously well read about Akrotiri. He acted as tour guide. "When the volcano exploded thousands of years ago, Santorini was the apex of civilization. Much of it was preserved by falling ash before the eruption and then topped with lava. The Minoan culture existed before the Greek and Roman empires. Some people believe Santorini was the fabled kingdom of Atlantis mentioned in Plato's writing. It was a golden age of technological achievement and art. This settlement even had plumbing. There was possibly hot and cold water, and there were toilets. As far as we know, the inhabitants escaped before the cataclysm. Perhaps they were warned by ash fall and earthquakes."

  I posed in front of the famous stone steps. The volcanic eruption had cracked an entire flight of stairs right down the middle. Robert turned me to the side and had me look over my shoulder as he fired off a series of shots. Previewing photos in the camera, I wondered about the bare breasted women who used the stone steps. Did they dine in those airy rooms decorated with wall murals? What kind of music did they enjoy? Drums? Lyres? Flutes? I was lured into the magic of ancient times.

  We turned a corner and found a street lined with two and three story homes. They had huge windows open to the breezes. Robert smiled, "Wonder what it would have been like to live in Akrotiri long ago? I can picture you enjoying delicate fish entrees, clothed in flowing robes."

  "It wouldn't be so different from our hotel," I sighed wistfully, "but certainly more exotic. I am fascinated by the paintings of antelopes, monkeys, ducks, and dolphins. It probably wasn't as dry as it is now. I saw a fresco with palm trees and tropical vegetation everywhere. Elegant women took cruises on canopied yachts to enjoy the sea. I want to depict everyday life in ancient Santorini for my novel. I might contrast it with someone working on the island today, perhaps an artist or a professor."

  "Or perhaps a novelist?" Robert laughed.

  "I don't think it would be a good idea to put myself into the book so obviously. At least I could pretend it was someone else. I'm an artist in my other life."

  "Your other life?"

  "Yes, my minor in college was art."

  "Minor? Does that mean you studied painting and drawing in college? And you can paint things like those incredible frescoes?"

  "Well, yes, I could paint them on canvas. I don't know much about preparing walls for art. Even the Da Vinci's Last Supper in Milan keeps sliding off the wall because of his experimental wall preparation. The murals here are thousands of years older and still in remarkable condition. There are more of them in the museum in Athens."

  "Have you been to Milan?"

  "No, the only place I've visited in Italy is Florence. I love Florence. The city is a living museum. I get the same feeling here, only more ancient. Akrotiri feels like time travel. The Minoans obviously led a beautiful life, one we might envy, though we would miss modern medicine and dentistry."

  It was such a unique place. I felt like a voyeur, peering in to watch partially robed women seasoning their food with saffron.

  Robert put his arm around my shoulders and hugged me, "Brilliant, absolutely brilliant."

  "I am almost without words."

  "I hope not." Robert smiled. "I fancy dating a novelist.

  "Well, I wish I could capture the mystique of this place."

  "I have faith in you. If any place on earth can spawn magic, Santorini can."

  Later that evening we finished a vacation supper just in time to rush back for the sunset. After we drank our sundown cocktails, I wandered into my bedroom and collapsed across the bed. Robert sauntered in behind me and paused beside the bedroom doorway. Even a sunburn looked good on him.

  "So what are your plans?"

  I giggled, "If I weren't covered with dust, I'd just stay here on the bed until morning. I'm exhausted."

  "Ah," Robert smirked and raised one eyebrow. "That sounds like a pretty good plan."

  He suddenly glanced at the trash can. "What on earth is this rubbish? There is something downright weird in this bin."

  I felt like I'd swallowed my tongue, now a big lump in my stomach. Obviously, the maid hadn't emptied the trash. I was unable to speak. The rest of the apartment was clean, but I guess she hadn't known what to do with the blackened electronics. The burned vibrator would become another artifact to be dug up thousands of years from now. I could picture a researcher declaring the object a sexual fetish and being correct. Once again I was counting on my own sunburn to hide my blush.

  "Do you know what this is?" he asked. "It looks dangerous."

  "Oh yes, it is dangerous." I tried not to laugh, and the harder I tried... I broke into a belly laugh and curled up on the bed. At the same time I was totally horrified. Some men are intimidated by sex toys. The same men are certain that every woman they have ever bedded had orgasm during intercourse. I didn't want to discover that Robert's masculinity was based on a denial of real sexuality. He was too delicious to discard before I had the chance to really know him.

  Robert stared into the container with amused confusion. He kicked at the can with his foot. I'm sure he wondered why I was laughing at him. In reality, I was laughing at myself. I never seemed to escape Murphy's Law. Everything goes wrong, or something like that.

  "Should I be concerned?"

  "Not about a bad adapter and a burned up sex toy," I blurted, still torn between hilarity and apprehension.

  Robert still looked puzzled, but a smile was flickering across his face. "Wow! You must be really hot. You set this thing on fire all by yourself?"

  I nodded. "Yes, all by myself. I'm a jilted woman, remember? I have needs. Desires."

  "I suppose you realize how keen I am to help you with those desires?"

  "Keen? Is that the word? We don't say 'keen' in America, but I might adjust to that. I might accept the help you're offering, if I weren't covered in historic dust. My fried toy doesn't bother you?"

  "Bother me? Why should it bother me? Is there any desire left? Was it all burned up? Are you ok?"

  "I'm fine. The only victim was the vibrator. It caught on fire before I could use it. I am totally without help. All that's left is embarrassment."

  I heard Robert's voice drop, but I can't remember what he said. All I know is that he was immediately on the bed beside me. There was such intensity in his gaze, but I could only think about a shower. I had some doubt about leaping into an intimate relationship so soon after getting dumped, and I certainly didn't want Robert to make love to me while I was as dirty as a stray dog. The first time should be something special, something to remember, no matter how the romance progressed. Even an island affair should be something to treasure. I wanted to be soaped, beautiful, perfumed.

  Had I invited this man, unconsciously? Some part of me had lured him onto my bed, the same part that wanted to undress on the beach. Suddenly, it was as if I had communicated that specific thought to him. Once again I wondered if he could read my mind. He was now holding the corner of my blue, silk shirt.

  "Do you realize how much you affected me that day on the beach? I wanted to undress you piece by piece and lick those nipples. I was holding my towel like a shield because I was so aroused. So don't worry about some dust. I don't mind a woman with a little grit. It adds flavor."

  I needed to retreat to the shower, but I was mesmerized by feelings I had ignored until now. I felt as if a sparkler had ignited between my legs. What kind of relationship could exist between two people from different continents? Could I have revenge sex? I answered my own question. I wanted Robert.

  "Please, honey, I am too dirty to do this. Let me take a quick shower. Can you come back a little later? It will be perfect then."

  "I don't want perfect. I want one of those movie scenes where the guy r
ips off her blouse, and she is pulling at his belt buckle as they fall into bed. I can't wait to see your breasts." He had unbuttoned two of my buttons while he was talking.

  "You've already seen my breasts, probably more than once, while I was almost catatonic."

  "Yes, and it was like torture. I couldn't touch them. I've been waiting and waiting. It seems like forever."

  My attention strayed, thinking about what I'd love to see, and when I hesitated, he finished unbuttoning my blouse. The silk fell away, and I honestly felt my nipples tighten as the ceiling fan kissed them with a breeze. The message raced down my abdomen and turned the sparkler into a burning coal. Robert stopped and took a deep breath, thrilled at greeting my swollen breasts. I was sold. On with revenge sex.

  "Yes, yes, get those clothes off, but let me slip into the shower for just a moment. Find some music on my MP3 player. I'll be right back. I promise. Please."

  "Yes, you need a shower," Robert laughed. "Let me help you."

  He ran his hand under the shirt and up my back. His other hand whisked away my shirt. I was surprised at his strength as he lifted me off the bed. I let him carry me half naked into the warm shower. His cotton shirt and khaki pants were soaked immediately, but his attention was on the water dripping off my nipples. He rubbed his thumbs over my areolas, circling them with affection. From there he slid his hands down to pull at my clinging pants and thong panties. All my clothing fell to the shower floor in a heap. I stood before him completely naked and wet.

  He took the soap and started to wash me, inch by inch, alternating between the soap and his fingers, first my neck and chest, then squeezing and jiggling my breasts. He leaned forward and sucked each nipple before he soaped it. This was a much anticipated moment between us since that first mystic meeting on the beach. It was unhurried as he paused to savor each nipple. Working his way down, he cupped my butt cheeks, circled my navel, and then gently washed between my legs with his fingertips. It was intoxicating, and I was trembling. This was actually happening, something I could only dream about a few days ago. I wanted it so badly, but was it the smart thing to do?

  If I had stopped him, it might have been over between us. I couldn't bear the thought, so I let desire sweep over me. As he suggested, I grabbed his belt buckle and tugged like a crazed woman. The zipper seemed to take forever, and I still had to pull down underwear. Robert must have been impatient because he helped me. I was rewarded with wet, curly, pubic hair and an engorged shaft, already thick and veined. I wrapped my hand around his warm, wet erection. Robert shuddered.

  "I have to warn you. I won't last. It has been a very long time since I've done this. I'm like a teenager, struggling to hold back as we stand here."

  His words cut through me, right into my center. It was the first time I had wanted to surrender myself like this. I grabbed him around the neck and kissed his wet lips. In response, he pinned me against the shower wall, lifting me as he did. His wet chest and loins pressed against me, the delicious touch of his warm and slippery skin on my naked body. I spread my legs and straddled him. He entered me like a spear thrust. I was very wet from the shower, and it took only two or three thrusts for him to penetrate my utmost depth. He held me there, impaled against the wall, while running water poured over us. Robert moaned, trying to make it last. I wanted to writhe against him like a coiled snake.

  "This is far too good. Can you turn around and bend over? I can't take it."

  Instead of answering, I spun in his arms like an ocean eel. Placing my palms against the wall, I bent and spread my legs again. Robert reached around me and let my breasts fall into his hands. He rubbed and squeezed them, his hands sliding along my skin, nipples slipping against his fingers and palms. While I was submerged in aquatic desire, he filled me so deeply I gasped.

  He pressed my hands against the wall with each strong thrust, and I throbbed against him. He dropped one hand to stroke me while pushing rhythmically into me. The hot coal exploded deep inside, and my tightening sheath gripped Robert and forced him over the edge. With a loud yell he released months of passion. I felt the thrill pass through me with a shock.

  When we finished our shower, Robert wrapped me in the hotel's terry robe to nap in the bedroom. We woke later, tangled in each other's arms.

  "See, there is more than one way to make everything perfect," Robert whispered. "You got a shower after all."

  Chapter Five

  So began the days of gold, whitewashed buildings, and seas lost in time. We wandered through the streets of Thira, shopping for art and jewelry. Although I protested, Robert bought endless gifts for me. Thankfully, the painted canvasses could be rolled and placed in mailing tubes. They stayed on my closet shelves because I had no idea where to mail them. I tried on a pair of exquisite earrings with tiers of sparkling, black stones. I didn't know if they were diamonds or spinels. Robert insisted on buying them for me, and he refused to let me see the price. I wore them right out of the store because they went beautifully with my white summer dress.

  I did manage to pay for several Minoan art boxes, perfect for storing jewelry and trinkets. I bought one for Robert, the one with the antelopes. We threaded our way through the bright, crowded shops and dined on pasta. The restaurant terrace overlooked the vast, ocean caldera.

  "I think there must be something wrong with me. Everyone raves about Italian food, but I think this is better than anything I ate in Italy." I tried to manage angel hair dripping with butter sauce and carry on a conversation at the same time. Robert was trying not to laugh, but gave himself away with an amused grin. I ignored the smirk and stopped struggling with food. Why on earth was I trying to eat stringy food on a date? I felt like Alice in Wonderland trying to play croquet with a live flamingo for a mallet. "I really shouldn't say things like that because I was only in Florence for a week. I probably ate at all the wrong restaurants because I was so busy looking at art. I ended every day too exhausted to chew."

  Our table was at the extreme edge of the cliff where I could watch the boat dock far below and the string mules climbing the zigzag steps. Most of the mules were loaded with tourists. No wonder I was wrestling with lunch. It was a contest between enjoying the amazing view and gazing at Robert. Food was a runner up. Robert said nothing at all. He was still trying hard not to chuckle. I was bathed in a sex haze and too distracted to eat anyhow. Finally I gave up and cut the angel hair with a knife. It didn't help.

  The nights in Santorini were like fireworks. Robert had more or less moved out of his rooms and into mine. We lived on Greek island time. It was more fantasy than real life. In the back of my mind I dared not think about when all this would end. Neither of us could remain, and I had no idea what was next. The Atlantic would separate us, and it is a massive body of water. I was actually relieved that Rex had run off with Sharon. Thinking back on our relationship, I saw him differently.

  Robert and I finally went to explore Oia. We visited a restaurant suspended over a cliff edge like a window washer's basket. The entire front and sides were open, though there was a roof of sticks. It was like eating on a flying carpet over the massive, blue caldera, if there had been anything to eat. The moment we sat down, the waiter informed us there was no electricity. He offered us a cold drink, but could not make a pizza. We settled for a soda. The village of Oia was a jewel, probably a lot more commercial than it was years ago, but still a unique gallery of fashion and art. I wanted to buy every dress I saw, all of them sexy and light. Where would I put them? My suitcases were full.

  I looked across the table at my new lover. Even his neck looked irresistible to me now, lean and tan. I wanted to kiss and bite it. He still looked more European than English. I was hopelessly entangled and worried. What did I really know about him? I felt as if I had left my affluent lifestyle to risk a hand to mouth existence in a crowded, foreign country. I had to remind myself that I was the abandoned one, that there was no return to my privileged life. But could I leave my country? I hadn't even been asked. What would I say if
the question arose?

  "So, do you live in London all the time?"

  "I have what Americans might call a 'vacation place' in the Lake District, but I am so busy working I hardly have time to go there. Well, it actually belongs to my mother. I suppose I could do some of my work there, but if I have to go abroad, it requires flying out of Manchester to London and then from London on to Africa. Perhaps you should come see for yourself."

  "Is that an invitation?" I asked hesitantly.

  "Certainly. You said yourself, you have nowhere to go and no reason to hurry home."

  "You make me sound like a stray puppy..."

  "Well," Robert laughed, "You are a bit like a puppy, but do puppies have pale, blue eyes? I quite fancy puppies. You can snuggle in my lap anytime."

  As we left Oia to drive along the towering cliffs, I stared into the sea sky horizon and pondered my choices. Had I been in love with Rex or the luxury he offered? Was I immature or just practical? Are females hardwired to look at lovers as providers? Now that I had been asked, should I take a chance on a whole new continent?

  What was I putting at risk? Should I trade my return ticket to the U.S. for a trip to England? Would I grow so homesick that Robert would seem unimportant? If my heart was mangled again, would I become some crazy woman living in the attic of an English novel?

  After missing lunch, we had to drive all the way to Thira to grab a roadside gyro. When we finally returned to our hotel in Improvigli, Robert dashed off to make some plans with John and check for messages in the hotel office. I fell into bed, hot and sweaty, pausing only long enough to kick off my shoes. My head barely settled into the pillow when I heard the jingle of my cell phone.

  I was stunned to hear Rex's voice. I assumed all future communications would be through his secretary, but perhaps he had some private things to discuss. Had he discovered that Robert was staying in my hotel apartment? I wondered if he was calling to pull the plug on my free rent.