by Lucy Tucker
He glanced at Veronica, and she smiled at him. “Morning,” she said brightly. “Did you sleep well?”
Like a kangaroo with a telegraph pole in its pouch, he thought, but he just smiled back. “Fine thanks. And yourself?”
“Very pleasant indeed.”
There was something in her eyes, a quick flash of … laughter? … but it was gone so quickly he decided he’d imagined it.
After the plane landed he helped her with her bag, fetching it from the overhead locker before collecting his own from under his seat.
“You’re well travelled,” she said, when she saw his holdall.
“I think the flight attendant pegged me as a hobo. Or maybe an eccentric billionaire, I’m not sure which.”
“Did you give her a tip?”
“No.”
“Then my guess is billionaire.”
“Somewhere in between,” said Chance, with a grin. “Although, to be honest, I’m much closer to the hobo end of the scale.”
“You look happy and relaxed, Chance. That’s more than you can say for most.”
He stood back to let her into the aisle, and followed her out of the plane. Her legs were long and slender, and she moved easily in the figure-hugging dress. He himself felt rumpled and unclean, and he was looking forward to a long, hot shower. Or maybe a cold shower would be more appropriate.
They reached the luggage carousel together, and Veronica stopped. Chance was travelling light, with everything he needed in the holdall, and he smiled a goodbye and turned to leave.
“Chance, wait. Can I ask a huge favour?”
He felt a thrill deep inside. He’d not forgotten her unintentional display during the night, even though he’d done his best to ignore it. If she was going to ask him out, get him to show her the city … well, she was gorgeous, and he’d certainly be up for it. “Sure, anything.”
“I’ve got two cases and they weigh a ton. Would it be terrible of me to ask for help? Just to get them on a trolley, that’s all. I’ll be fine after that.”
Chance smiled. “Of course I’ll help.”
“Thanks. I feel like a real ninny, but … well.”
Twenty minutes later they were still standing there. All the other passengers had left, and the same three bags were going round and round. Eventually, a porter switched the carousel off and took them away.
“Excuse me,” said Veronica. “Do you know where my bags went?”
“Sorry, lady. That’s the lot.”
“Oh, great.” Veronica turned to Chance. “I’m really sorry about this. Looks like I held you up for nothing.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“Are you sure?”
Chance nodded. “Are you going to be all right? Without your cases, I mean?”
“Sure. I’ll book into a hotel and call the insurance people first thing.”
“Would you like me to find you a cab?”
She smiled at him. “You’re a true gentleman.”
Outside, the taxi rank was deserted. They waited five minutes, and Chance noticed Veronica shivering from the cold. He took a jacket from his holdall and held it out to her.
“Th-thanks,” she said, wrapping it around her shoulders.
Finally, a cab drove up. Chance opened the door for her, closing it again once she was inside. Before the cab could leave, she put the window down. “What about you?”
“I’ll take the next one.”
“Are you going to the city?” Chance nodded, and she opened the door for him. “Come on, we’ll share.”
He got in beside her, putting his bag on the floor.
“Where to?” asked the driver.
Veronica leaned forward. “I need a hotel.”
“Sure. Which one?”
“I don’t know yet. Something decent.”
“Lady, if you don’t have a booking …”
“Yes?”
“There’s a convention in town. The hotels have been booked for months.”
“What about motels?”
“They went first.”
Veronica sat back in her seat. “Bugger,” she muttered, in a most unladylike tone. “How stupid of me.”
“It happens,” said Chance. He opened his mouth, about to suggest something, then closed it again.
She looked at him. “You don’t happen to own a hotel do you, my kind billionaire friend?”
“No, but I got a slug,” he said, in a passable cockney accent.
She looked at him like he was mad. “Well, they do say most billionaires are insane.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s an old comedy sketch.”
“Excellent. Here I am, homeless, with no possessions but the clothes on my back …” she hesitated, looked down at herself, “… barring your jacket, of course … and do you render assistance like a knight in shining armour? No, you give me cheesy vaudeville routines.”
“I’m really … I didn’t mean …”
Veronica laughed. “I’m just messing with you, Billy. Come on, spill the beans, as you people say. Where are you laying your head tonight?”
“I have an apartment.”
“Is there a Mrs Billionaire in residence?”
“No, there is not.”
“No little billionaire children, all eager to see their daddy, and not at all eager to meet some funny Englishwoman he picked up at the airport? I really don’t do children. They’re noisy and smelly, and that’s just the teenagers.”
“No children.”
“Flatmates?”
“No, I live alone.”
She took his face in her hands and kissed him on the forehead. “In that case, Billy, please give the driver your address, because he’s about to report us both to the funny farm.”
Chance unlocked his apartment, pushing the door open. There was a small pile of mail on the side table, deposited there by his cleaner, and the corridor smelled clean and fresh. Chance led her inside, and when she saw the apartment, she whistled. They were in the dining room, and a broad staircase lead down to a sunken lounge. Beyond was an entire wall of glass, with an uninterrupted view of the city lights. Just outside was an infinity pool, suspended like magic twenty stories above the ground, the water blue and inviting.
“When you said apartment, I was picturing a one room dive in the seedy part of town. If you’re not a hobo and you’re not a billionaire, you must be a millionaire. Not Billy, but Millie. Am I right?”
Chance smiled. “I’m house sitting.”
“Damn, missed out again,” said Veronica, with a snap of her fingers. “I suppose it’s just as well, though. Millie really doesn’t suit you.”
“Would you like a drink?”
“I’d love a drink, and a hot shower, and a nice comfy bed.”
Chance dealt with the drink, and showed her to the guest bathroom. He took a quick shower in the en suite, head bent under the torrent of water as he let the travel stains and miles wash away. When he was done he picked out a snowy white dressing gown, and went to find Veronica. She waved from the pool, and when he took her drink out he realised she was naked. “You do know that pool has a glass bottom?” he said.
“No wonder they’ve gone quiet down there.” She swam to the side and reached for the drink, rivulets of water running down her shapely breasts, one starry droplet clinging to the end of each nipple. “Mmm. Good stuff.”
“I agree.”
She looked up at him, then patted the water. “Do you want to come in? We could really give the neighbours something to stare at.”
He felt himself rising, and he took off the dressing gown and sat down, ready to enter the water.
“Oh, yummy,” breathed Veronica, eyeing his stiff member. “Oh yes indeed. I think I can work with this. Sit there a minute, will you?” She took him in her mouth, starting with the tip and gently sliding her lips around his crown, then further down his shaft to the root. He gasped with pleasure, and then he felt her fingers on his buttocks, kneading him, spreading him, before a
single fingertip slid inside him. She continued to work him with her mouth, taking him in, running her lips around his shaft, probing and flicking him with her tongue, and he almost exploded from the pleasure. Her finger slid deeper, and he felt an intense warmth inside. Then she flexed her fingertip, and he cried out from the intense sensation. He was seconds from climax, but before he could come Veronica hauled him straight into the pool, dunking him the water. It was deliciously cold after the hot shower, and his skin tingled. When he surfaced Veronica pushed him against the wall, her legs wrapping his hips, her breasts cool on his chest, her hands behind his neck. She kissed him fiercely, and he felt her guiding his shaft straight inside her.
“You don’t mess about,” she murmured in his ear. “Ooh, that’s nice.”
His hips moved of their own accord, and his breath came in gasps as he took her. All the finesse, the foreplay, the tickling and teasing, it all went out the window as he drove himself into her. He felt her stiffen, and her arms tightened around his neck. “Keep going,” she whispered. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
His back was hard against the wall, the water lapping around his chest. Veronica clung to him, moaning now with every thrust of his pelvis. Her knees rose and fell, her breasts were milky and soft in the sparkling water, and her hard nipples brushed his chest as she rose and fell.
“Don’t stop,” she warned him. “I won’t … unh! … talk to you ever again.”
Chance felt himself building to a climax, and he desperately held back.
“Aah! Aah!”
Veronica cried out, and her movements became frenzied. She thumped her buttocks against his thighs, driving herself onto him, and he responded by thrusting upwards with all his strength, again and again. She cried out as she came, a low, primal growl that raised the hairs on the back of his neck, and then he forgot all about necks and growls as he was overcome by his own cresting climax. Their bodies were locked together, their arms holding each other tight as passion overcame them both.
Then Veronica sighed, lowering her legs and resting her forehead against his shoulder. Suddenly she giggled. “Don’t look now,” she said, “but I think your neighbours are holding up a sign.”
“Really? What does it say?”
“Ten out of ten.”
“So, this friend of yours. Does he have any toys?”
They were sitting in the lounge, naked, enjoying mugs of steaming hot chocolate laced with brandy. The heating was up high, and the apartment was like a sauna.
“What sort of toys?” asked Chance, mystified.
“Bedroom sort of toys.” She looked at him. “Unless you’re planning to toddle off to sleep, that is?”
“No, not me. But why would the owner have any toys?”
“Oh come on. A swimming pool with a glass bottom? And what about the soap in the guest shower? You know, the one shaped like a giant cock?”
“There is?”
“Yeah, although it’s half the size now. No staying power, although I must say it got me awfully clean.” She frowned. “Well, first it got me dirty, and then it got me clean. Does that make sense? Anyway, about those toys.”
“There’s a wardrobe in the bedroom. I don’t know what’s in there, and we should probably leave them alone.”
“Nonsense. You’re house sitting.” Veronica got up and held her hand out to him. “Let’s go have fun.”
The main bedroom was dominated by a huge king-size bed with a solid timber frame. There were thick posts in each corner, topped with balls twice the size of Chance’s fist. The bed-head was built from thick wooden slats, the rail chest high, while the foot of the bed was the same design but half the height.
There were half a dozen mirror doors, floor to ceiling, and Veronica wasted no time opening and closing them. “Shirts and jocks, boring. Lots of shoes, boring. Suits, deadly boring. Hey, here we go!”
She reached into the cupboard and came out with a riding crop. She swished it experimentally, the flap of leather on the end whistling through the air. “Fun,” she remarked, and threw it onto the bed. She went back into the cupboard and emerged with a handful of silk ropes. “Very fun. Are you into this stuff?”
“It’s not —”
“Yes, I know, it’s not your house.” Veronica dangled a cord in front of him, the rope casting a shadow across her bare breast. “Do you want to tie me up?”
Chance swallowed.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Veronica moved to the bed and lay face down in the middle, spreading her arms and legs like a human starfish. “You’d better tie me up good, because if I get free while you’re whipping me I’m going to kick the snot out of you.”
Chance took four ropes, and gently tied them around her wrists and ankles.
“Tighter, Millie. That wouldn’t hold a mouse.”
He wrapped the cords a little tighter, still taking care they weren’t too tight. Then he tied each one to a corner post.
“Oh, come on!” protested Veronica. “Where’s you’re spirit, Millie?”
He gave the ropes a pull, opening her legs wide. “I told you not to call me Millie,” he said, with mock frown.
“What are you going to do about it … Millie?”
Chance picked up the riding crop, and ran the leather tip down her spine to her buttocks. He wiggled the end, tickling her, then continued down the back of her thighs, into the hollows behind her knees, over her shapely calves and down further to the soles of her feet.
“Oh no. No!” Veronica struggled against the ropes, her buttocks rising and falling. “You can’t. I’m as ticklish as hell!”
“I’m so glad you told me that,” said Chance. He ran the tip of the riding crop over the soles of her feet, and she screamed at him, bucking furiously on top of the bed.
“I’m going to kill you,” she growled, when he paused. “You’re supposed to thrash me, you bastard!”
Chance started again, describing tiny circles on the bottom of her feet, making her cry out with anger, and laugh from the unbearable pleasure. When he judged she could take no more, he raised the crop a couple of inches above her buttocks, bringing it down gently across her cheeks.
“Pussy,” she muttered. “My gran could hit harder than that.”
He raised the crop three inches, and brought it down a touch harder.
“I-can’t-feel-anything,” sang Veronica.
He raised it four inches, and this time he brought it down harder.
Swish … slap!
“Aah!”
Swish … slap!
“Aah! Harder,” hissed Veronica.
He raised the crop higher, and the tip whistled through the air.
Swish … SLAP!
“Aah … AAH!”
Veronica clenched her buttocks, which were now marked with faint welts. The second she relaxed Chance brought the crop down again.
Swish … SLAP!
“Ahh … ha … aaah!”
She was laughing and crying at the same time, cringing from the punishment while begging him for more. Chance raised the crop higher, hesitated, then gave her the hardest yet.
SWISH … SLAP!
“AAAAAHHH!” she screamed, her head fully back, her neck muscles corded and her eyes starting from her head. She tore at the restraints, struggling to escape. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”
Chance threw the crop aside, climbed between her legs and mounted her. He plunged straight into her, thrusting like a man possessed. She screamed with pleasure, bucking underneath him like a wild animal. He pushed his hands underneath her chest, his fingers clawing her breasts as he drove himself deeper and deeper inside her. When he gripped her nipples she howled, screaming as though his fingers carried high voltage current.
The end came quickly, a savage climax that took them over, fused their bodies into a drawn-out shuddering ecstasy, their cries as one. His body pinned hers to the bed, their fingers interlocked in a fierce, unbreakable grip as the thrusts slowed and stopped.
“Fuck me
!” whispered Veronica, as she got her breath back.
After a couple of minutes rest Chance untied her, gently rubbing her wrists and ankles. Her buttocks were striped with red welts, and she winced as he caressed them with his fingers. “Are you all right?”
“All right? All right? What was that tickling business?”
Chance smiled. “I thought it might loosen you up.”
“I’ll loosen your fillings in a minute.”
“But are you sure you’re okay?”
“More than okay, lover. I’m feeling wonderful.”
“Tired out?”
“No, more like frisky.” She picked up the whip and bent it experimentally between her hands, then swished it a couple of times. “Lie on the bed and spread your arms and legs,” she said, with a dangerous glint in her eye. “It’s your turn, Millie.”
The next morning, sore and exhausted, Chance brought Veronica breakfast. She was wearing the woollen dress, and as they ate he told her about the previous night aboard the aircraft, when she’d repeatedly put her hand on his chest. He didn’t want to embarrass her, although after their night of lovemaking he wasn’t sure that were actually possible. No, he was just curious about Gordon.
Veronica paused, her coffee mug just touching her lips. “I remember putting my hand a lot lower than your chest. And what’s more, you left out the best part.”
“The what?”
“I distinctly remember putting on a show for you.” Veronica raised the hem of her dress, running the flat of her hand up and down the inside of her thigh. “You were a real gentleman, too. Averting your eyes, covering me with that blanket, pretending to read that magazine.”
“I thought you were dreaming!”
She laid a hand on his cheek. “You dear, sweet Millie. I was wide awake the whole time.”
“You did all that on purpose?” Chance stared at her. “But why?”
“Does there have to be a reason? Oh heavens, for the look on your face. For the sheer joy of it. To give you an experience you’d never forget. These long flights can be so dull.” She leant closer. “Actually you got off lightly in the end.”
“Unlike you.”
“Ha ha. Well played. But what I meant was, I was going to sit in your lap next, right there in the plane. Maybe scream a little.”
