by Galia Ryan
As Sam required, she gave him her full attention. The only thing she refused to do was play dumb. She had a brain and was proud of it. Daringly she challenged him on one or two points before allowing his opinion to dominate. She caught Sam’s eye, and to her amusement he gave her a surreptitious wink.
Cooper had pull. That was obvious. He confessed to her in an aside that he really had only a layman’s knowledge of politics, and that his business interests were moderate, to say the least.
“Little lady—”
Stephanie inwardly cringed.
“Ah jus’ wanna to do right by the people who are countin’ on me.”
And that means getting into bed with the oil industry? Stephanie wanted to ask. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully, as if his comment were more profound than any she had heard.
He was loud in his praise of the dining experience. He’d previously had nouvelle cuisine, he told her as he scanned the menu for a suitable dessert, and had left the table hungry. But that was certainly not the case this time.
With dinner over with, he seemed to get a new lease on life. He wanted to gamble. Sam agreed that the idea was an exceptionally fine one, and suggested they moved on to a casino.
It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. She had not known Sam long, but he had never struck her as a gambler. Risking money on the throw of a dice or the turn of a card had never appealed to her. Besides, it was common knowledge that the only winner in a casino was the casino itself. Cooper seemed oblivious to that. Either that, or he didn’t care. He declared Blackjack to be his game, but at the table he played with little skill.
Sitting beside him, she became more and more frustrated at his reckless ineptitude. Even she could have done better.
Eventually she couldn’t stand it anymore. She leaned on his shoulder and whispered softly in his ear, “Perhaps you might enjoy a nightcap. I have an apartment not too far away.”
He turned to look at her, his face registering surprise. For a moment she thought she had gone too far, too fast. “I thought you were Sam’s little piece.”
“Actually, Cooper, I’m my own woman.”
And I’m nobody’s little piece, she wanted to add.
“Then you must forgive me, ma’am. I certainly meant no offense. Does the offer still stand?”
“Of course it does. And perhaps you will tell me more about your grandfather, and how he found oil on his land.”
“Well, now, that would be a pleasure.”
Cooper gathered his few remaining chips and eased from the table. After offering a good night to Sam, who was obviously intending to remain a little longer, he gave her his arm. “Now, darlin’,” he said, his grin faintly lecherous, “why don’t you and I go find this place of yours?”
The night was warm, and she suggested they stroll the short distance to her apartment. The restaurants and bars were alive with the energy of those who lived to party. Beautiful people spilled onto the pavement. Fast cars lined the kerb. Music was everywhere. She snuggled closer. Even under the circumstances, she couldn’t help the glow of satisfaction that came from being in the town she was fast seeing as her own.
“I have to say,” Cooper settled himself heavily into an armchair, “that this is a real pleasure. Yessir, a real pleasure. Good whiskey and a beautiful woman. Ain’t nothing more a man needs.”
He had taken a large slug of the Kentucky bourbon in his crystal tumbler. She had merely sipped at hers. The liquor was strong—almost one hundred percent proof—and she needed to remain in control of what was to come. It wouldn’t do for her to fail Sam. Not if she valued their arrangement.
Cooper asked how she and Sam had met. She told him of their meeting in a hotel restaurant, and continued with a little about herself. The sanitized version of how her father had died a few months ago and she went to Cannes to get over her grief. Neither Charles nor Olivia rated a mention, nor, of course, any of her previous lovers.
The perfect hostess, she offered to refill his glass. He accepted with alacrity, and as she completed the task she explained she was expecting to be accepted by a major law firm soon. Entering the profession, she told him, was her life’s ambition.
“My, my. That is surely not what I was expecting.”
“And what was that?” Her eyes were purposefully wide and innocent.
“Well, maybe we won’t go there.”
She could see he was a little confused. Time to relieve him of his fear that maybe he wasn’t going to get a fuck that night after all.
“Cooper, you’re a man who understands these things. I like Sam, but the truth is, I’m lonely.”
“I certainly do know how that feels.” He nodded sagely.
“Will you stay with me tonight?”
“Are you sure that’s what you want, young lady? Because I don’t want to impose on your hospitality.”
“You won’t be imposing.”
“Then I’d be delighted.”
Hearing the enthusiasm in his voice, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. “I wonder if you would help me out of my dress. It’s not the most comfortable thing to relax in.”
She knelt between Cooper’s legs, her back towards him, her head bent forward. The pose was that of a penitent. She lifted her hair and exposed the nape of her neck.
She heard his tumbler being placed down. She sensed him leaning forward, wheezing slightly as he did so. He could really do with losing a little weight, she thought. His pudgy fingers were warm against her skin as he grasped the top of her dress and awkwardly tugged down the zip.
The taffeta rustled deliciously as she carefully eased the bodice downward and over her hips. She wanted to ensure enough time for him to appreciate the perfection of her body. Then she stood and stepped out of the dress. Gathering it from the floor she held it against herself shyly.
Of course it was too late. He had already had a perfect view of the rounded cheeks of her arse. And the thin ribbon of g-string that disappeared between them.
“Well, now …” he began. Then coughed.
She leaned forward, as if in concern. The dress slipped a little, and exposed the nipple of her left breast. “Are you all right?”
He took another gulp of whiskey. “Fine, absolutely fine,” he reassured her. “Now, why don’t you come and sit down by me?” He patted the narrow space between his bulk and the side of the chair. “I think we need to get to know each other a little better.”
Fucking Cooper turned out to be more of a chore than she anticipated. Even naked he was garrulous. She’d wished he’d stop talking, even for a minute.
Thankfully, she was able to see past the pendulous belly that almost hid his manhood and the gnarly varicose veins of his legs. He was not the most unappealing man she had ever met, but she wouldn’t have fucked him by choice.
Even so, she was determined to make the experience one he would remember for a long time. She had taken his hand and placed his fingers at the entrance to her cunt. When he had obediently pushed them inside she had let her head fall back and sighed, as if in blissful contentment.
She sucked his cock, running her fingernails over his balls as she did so. She dropped her head farther and gently took each one into her mouth.
She had him lie back on the sofa and, after quickly rolling a condom onto him, lowered herself down. As she did so, she used her fingers to hold herself open. She wanted him to have a good view of his cock disappearing up inside her. Then she leaned forward and rode him hard, her breasts bouncing and jerking even as he tried to hold onto them.
Finally she begged to be taken from behind. He was only too happy to oblige, pummelling into her as if it were a race to see who could cum first.
He was even more vocal when he shot his load. For her part, she timed her performance of an amazingly intense orgasm to perfection.
Before the two men left Cannes, Stephanie managed to arrange time alone with Sam. It was the first time since he and Cooper had arrived.
They were in her apartment.
>
Cooper was shopping for a gift for his wife.
As he did so superbly well, Sam was using his fingers to bring her to the edge of orgasm. She was close, so close. Her heart was pounding, her breathing laboured.
In a moment he would remove his fingers from her clit, forcing her to experience the intense bitter-sweetness of denial. She would twist and turn, desperate to seek relief for her raw nerve-endings. Only when the sensations had almost subsided would his fingers return.
She loved the ritual. Craved it even. She had no idea how she could endure such divine agony. As always she was almost out of her mind, begging to be taken, used, fucked. Whatever he wanted to do.
When he finally moved over her it was all she could do not to cum immediately.
“Do you want me to tell you how wonderful you are?” he murmured into her hair as they lay together afterwards.
“Wonderful?” She eased in his arms to face him. “That’s one way of describing it. I take it Cooper gave you a blow-by-blow account of our night together.”
“If what he told me was correct, that’s a surprisingly apt description.”
“Very funny.”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself.” He was running a hand over her thigh.
“Enjoy it? I’d have had a better time tucked up with a book.”
“Thankfully, Cooper Gibson thought more highly of you than you did of him.”
“Did he?”
“He did. He said you were one of the best whores he’d ever been with.”
“And that’s supposed to be a compliment?”
She pulled away and reached for her glass of wine. Before lifting it to her lips, she turned to look at him. “Do you really think I’m a whore?”
“No.” He shook his head.
“Good. I’m not sure it suits me.”
“It doesn’t. I knew it when you walked out of the casino with him.”
“So why didn’t you stop me?”
“Because unfortunately the end result was more important than anything you or I might want.”
Chapter 23.
Sam had been back in the States for a couple of weeks. When he called it was late in the evening. She was curled up on the sofa, dozing over a book. The deep bass of his voice washed over her. “Are you missing me?” he wanted to know.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted.
“Good,” he said. “Then you’ll be pleased to know I’ll be back before the end of the month.”
He had a task for her.
He wanted half a dozen girls to be available for a party. She had ten days to arrange it.
She sat up, stunned. “What? You’re joking, aren’t you?”
“No. I’m not.”
“Where on earth do you expect me to find six girls willing to prostitute themselves for you?”
It was a bad line, with a delayed response. She had enough time to vent a sigh of exasperation.
“Stephanie, look around you. There are plenty of girls looking for the chance to earn a little extra money.”
“And what am I supposed to do? Go up to them in the street and ask if they want a good time with some rich ol’ boys from the US of A?”
“You could try that,” he said reasonably. “Put it this way. There will be a nice commission for you, if you find the right ones.”
She was silent.
In the days that followed she tried to work out how she could carry out Sam’s request. Of course she couldn’t just walk up to total strangers. She’d probably be arrested. There had to be another way.
She knew that escort agencies existed for that sort of thing and wondered whether she should approach one. It would be the obvious solution.
Sam had been specific, though. He wanted girls like her. Not call girls.
She knew exactly what he had in mind. Girls who, amongst other things, were naturally beautiful and eager. Wannabe models and actresses, for example. He was right, there were plenty of them, and Stephanie knew where to find them.
It felt strange to sit at a bar, eyeing up women. Men, yes. That was something she did all the time. But not women. She corrected herself; of course she had looked at other women before, after all it was important to see who was wearing what. But, other than Olivia, she’d rarely considered a woman from a sexual point of view.
Having said that, she was enjoying herself. It was like being on a power kick.
She gave a half-smile to a girl at the end of the bar. It was a look that said, I’m not interested in you sexually. I’m just alone, too.
The potential candidate had an exotic beauty. An eastern Mediterranean background, perhaps? With her olive skin and dark brows Stephanie thought she might be Turkish. She was with another girl, and a man. The other one’s boyfriend, she decided, watching the interaction between the three. Sam would appreciate variety. This girl could be perfect. Straight out of the Arabian Nights, she would bring a touch of the harem.
She decided to wait a little longer. If the girl went to the toilet she would take the opportunity to follow and strike up a conversation.
As if aware of Stephanie’s intention, the girl suddenly leaned towards her friend and whispered something in her ear. Slinging her bag on her shoulder, she made her way to the rear of the bar.
Stephanie couldn’t believe her luck. It was now or never. She counted to ten, and followed.
In the powder room Stephanie noted that only one of the cubicles was occupied. Perfect. It had to be the girl. She opened her bag and found her blush and lipstick. When the sound of flushing subsided and the cubicle door opened, Stephanie was busy enhancing her makeup.
“Hi,” she said casually.
“Hi.” The response was friendly enough. The girl was washing her hands.
“Chaos out there.”
“It’s Friday.” The girl smiled and shrugged, as if to say, What do you expect?
Stephanie had decided to play it straight. She turned and leaned against the counter.
“You wouldn’t be interested in attending a party on one of the super-yachts in the harbour, would you?”
The girl was looking at her strangely.
“No. Look, sorry. Forget it.” Stephanie turned back to the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair to give it a lift. “The American owner is coming over and wants to party. You know what they’re like. I can’t believe I agreed to find a handful of girls to go with me.”
She smiled again and shrugged apologetically.
“Is he from Hollywood? The owner, I mean.” The girl was touching up her own makeup.
“I wish. Oil billionaires from Texas. Though I suppose there might be people from California as well.”
“When is it?” She was interested. Or at least intrigued.
“Next Saturday,” Stephanie replied, zipping up her bag. She leaned towards the mirror as if for a final check.
“Here,” the girl was handing her a tissue, “write your number down. I’ll let you know.”
“Better still,” Stephanie passed it back, “why don’t you write yours down. That way I can call you with the details when I have them.”
“Sure. Any idea of the dress code?”
By the end of the night it will probably be as little as possible.
“Up rather than down. These guys live like lords.”
“Sounds like it could be an interesting night.”
“Their parties usually are. Lots of champagne, fabulous food, interesting people.” Stephanie shrugged, as if it was all so commonplace. “You’ll have a great time. The last party I went to I was given this.” She held out her necklace. The diamond sparkled.
“Oh my God. That’s gorgeous.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. Sam had bought it for her before he left. She knew it was his way of thanking her for the effort she had put in with Cooper.
“You will call?” The girl asked.
“Of course.” Stephanie glanced down at the tissue. “Marika?”
“It’s Greek.” Marika
laughed. “Hey, can I bring a friend?”
“If she looks like you, then why not?”
“Oh, she’s far more beautiful than me. She’s hoping to be a movie star one day. She’s already taking acting classes.”
Surely it couldn’t be so easy.
A week later she had the girls she needed. All beautiful, but also smart. More to the point, none of them had any doubt as to why they’d been invited.
She called the number Sam had given her. It was a private line.
“I have the ladies for your party.”
He chuckled. “I knew you would.”
“Then I must try to be a little less predictable.” She was sitting on her balcony, enjoying the early morning sun on the water. On the low table were the remains of her breakfast croissant.
“But I like you the way you are.”
“You might not, when you see my account.”
“Your account? Should I be sitting down?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary. After all we are both grown up.”
He paused. “So, what are your terms?”
She gave him the numbers. “A sixty-forty split. I get the larger amount,” she added, reaching for her coffee.
“Of course. And your ladies, they will appeal to my guests?”
“Your instructions were to find girls like me. Educated, attractive and understanding. No hookers or call girls. That’s what I have for you.”
“You are an amazing woman.”
“I’m glad you think so. We can settle when you arrive. The girls would prefer cash, naturally.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
“Oh, and one last thing ...”
“What is that?” he said.
“I’m not part of the package.”
“I see. Does that mean you won’t sleep with me when I come over?”
“Not at all. It simply means your friends can’t afford me.”
Chapter 24.
It was autumn and Stephanie had a decision to make.
The lease on the apartment was coming to an end, and Sam hadn’t been forthcoming as to whether he intended to continue their arrangement or not.
