by Serena Janes
“Sorry.”
But she wasn’t.
“Now relax,” he ordered. “And follow my lead.”
He began counting under his breath—one, two, one, two—guiding her alongside him. “Hold you head level. Look into my eyes. That’s right.”
One, two. “Pretend we’re on a dance floor with a band.”
Half an hour later Jo was thoroughly drenched with perspiration, her head muddled with rules. She flopped back down onto the blanket, breathing heavily. Danny had certainly put her through her paces.
In comparison, he hadn’t even broken a sweat. He picked up his camera and sat down beside her. The Germans were nowhere to be seen.
“You look so beautiful right now,” he said, dark eyes sparkling. “I’d like to take some more photographs of you. May I, please?”
“More?” Jo said, surprised.
“I mean real photographs. Not souvenir snapshots.”
“What do you mean real?”
“Posed.”
“Posed?”
“Yes. Like this. Let me show you.” He leapt to his feet. He walked around her, examining her as if she was a zoo animal, then crouched a few feet away, aiming his camera at her face. “Turn your head to the right. Just a little. That’s enough. Good.” Snap. Snap.
“Now lift your chin.” Snap snap.
“Don’t smile. Close your eyes.”
He moved around her as he told her to move this way or that, pout, smile, or simper. At first Jo felt uncomfortable, but soon she got caught up in the game and began to enjoy herself. She liked the feeling of his photographer’s eye on her.
When he was done he showed her the shots he’d taken. She did look good, head and upper body silhouetted against the fabulous blue of the lake below. Her simple dress and her honey-colored skin worked beautifully against the landscape behind her, she thought.
“See how lovely you are? Do you know what would be wonderful?” He leaned into her and whispered into her ear. “If you would take off your dress. It has such a busy pattern. It interferes with the composition. It would be so much better if the camera could see only smooth skin against the landscape.”
Jo looked at him carefully. Was he having her on? The pattern on her dress was too busy?
She looked down at her chest. The little black and white and brown African motifs suited her coloring, she knew. And this was the dress she was wearing when Luc fell for her. But Danny was right, she supposed. It was a domineering pattern.
Luc was then and this is now. It’s time to shed my skin.
A frisson of excitement sped through her body as she contemplated undoing her zipper. She looked at him again and saw two pink spots high on his beautiful cheekbones, but the look in his eyes was anything but bashful.
“Danny! I don’t even know you!”
“What does that matter? You would make a perfect study. Especially here,” he added as he swept an arm out over the view. “And there’s no one around to see.”
The idea didn’t shock Jo as much as arouse her. She reached her arms behind her head to unzip her dress when she heard more voices. Another group of sight-seers. Americans, this time. A lot of them.
Grinning, she exchanged a wide-eyed look with Danny and began to pack up their picnic.
Hand-in-hand, Jo and Danny walked down to the hot car to stash their things and unload his gear. The sun was threatening to sink behind the mountains, so they had no time to waste as they quickly toured the little town of Zahara.
As before, Danny took pictures of the best street views and the insides of the churches. But this time he included Jo in some of his shots. She didn’t mind, and was, in fact, getting used to his measuring eye.
After they lost the best of the light, Danny turned his camera to the views of the countryside spread out before them, again playfully chiding Jo for being too slow to take off her dress.
“Now we’ll never see the beauty of your skin against this glorious landscape.” He frowned.
“But there’ll be other mountains,” she said. “Other chances, perhaps. Maybe tomorrow, before we leave Ronda?”
“With your friend?”
Jo noticed how his eyes lit up when he asked the question.
She shook her head. “No. Not with Brenda.”
I love her, but…No. Too weird.
They had plenty of time to get back to the hotel and have a siesta before dinner. Or that was the plan, anyway. All the way they flirted and laughed, Jo plotting how she’d be able to duck Brenda so she and Danny could have as much quality time together as possible over the next two days. Feeling faintly guilty, she had to remind herself that having sex with Danny was Brenda’s idea in the first place. Brenda would probably not only give Jo space, she’d give her blessings to the union, fleeting as it would be.
Jo was excited as they arrived back at the hotel and unloaded the car, and she knew Danny was excited too. She helped carry his things up to his room and set the picnic basket down on a chair. “Thanks for a great day.” She put her arms around his neck and leaned up to kiss him. “You were a perfect gentleman, and an excellent teacher. I can’t wait to show Brenda how I can tango.” She rocked her body suggestively against his. His smile was absolutely charming and his young flesh felt marvelous��lean and hard and warm and increasingly receptive to her touch.
All of a sudden she heard the door slam behind her and found herself pulled down onto the bed. His lips were hard and soft at the same time, his kisses urgent, sweet, hot, arousing her instantly.
“And I can hardly wait to get you out of this dress,” he breathed heavily into her ear, hands already conquering the zip and pulling her free. Obviously adept at undressing women, he had Jo stark naked before she could wrestle his shirt over his head.
His chest was completely smooth, his soft brown skin hugging the contour of lean muscles. She ran her hands over his sun-warmed arms, his shoulders, his back, all the while kissing his face, his neck, her tongue probing deep, deep inside his mouth. He shucked off the rest of his clothes effortlessly and lay down beside her.
Slowly, with confidence, he moved his hands all over her. His caresses were sensual, exploring and arousing her at the same time. She felt her body rising to his touch, catching flame as her juices began to flow.
Her skin grew damp with perspiration, her mouth filled with sweet saliva.
When she felt the familiar gush between her legs, she knew she was ready.
She moved a hand across his flat belly and downwards to caress his cock, which was standing as stiffly at attention as any guardsman. He was a beautiful, beautiful boy, and she was ready to fuck him.
“Now, Danny. Now. Let me get a condom.”
“Not yet. Let me love you this way first,” he said as he slipped down in the bed and buried his face in her pubic hair.
Well…if you insist. I won’t complain…
He kissed her delta, the insides of her thighs as she spread them wider, and everything else he could find. Then he put his tongue to work on her, gently, like an older woman must had taught him, Jo suspected. He knew exactly what to do.
He licked, he lapped, he sucked, he kissed, he blew air and he pushed her over the edge in about ninety seconds. She came so fast and so hard she yanked on his hair as she cried out in surprise and ecstasy.
Gulping air, she started to giggle and apologize at the same time. He moved up to her face and silenced her with his mouth, tasting of her come.
“Put it on me,” he panted into her neck. “Now!”
As soon as she’d sheathed him he dove into her like a drowning man lunging for land. He wasn’t large, but he was strong, and his urgency pushed Jo into a deeper arousal. She opened her entire body to him then, and matched his thrusts with all the strength she had.
This time she managed to enjoy the ride for a little longer—maybe a few minutes—before she came crashing with a series of deep, sucking contractions that threatened to stop her heart.
Danny wasn’t far behind,
and he came into her with an animal cry that pleased her in its strangeness.
He rolled off her and they lay side-by-side in the overheated little room, trying to catch their breath, calm their pulse.
Jo spoke first. “That was pretty amazing, Danny. But I’d better go. Brenda will be wondering…”
“Yes, but be warned that I’m already thinking about Round Two,” he said with a cocky grin, patting her ass as she rolled off the bed.
Chapter Ten
Brenda said she’d been inside hard at work all day. She looked tired, Jo thought. The magazine had been doing well, circulation and advertisements steadily growing. But theirs was a fickle business, and Jo knew that her friend worried incessantly about the future.
Jo also knew that the expression on her face told Brenda that her little plan regarding Danny had been successful.
“Well look who’s got bed head!”
Jo grinned, raising a hand to touch her hair.
“So tell me. Was it great?”
“Do you really want to know?” Jo smirked.
“I do. But I also want to know if you guys actually managed to take any pictures today. Or did I just pay several hundred Euros to make sure my best friend got laid?”
“Both, Bren.” Still smiling she picked up her robe and headed to the bathroom for a shower. “And although we didn’t find any black virgins, I promise you we both got your money’s worth.”
Because she was planning to do some serious dancing later that night, Jo chose a skirt with a fluttery flounced hem and matched it to a low-cut sleeveless top. Her outfit would suit the tango, and whatever else she and Danny could manage to get up to after that.
She carefully applied a thick line of dark kohl around her eyes, then painted her eyelids with an iridescent deep green shadow. Lots of mascara and her paisley shawl finished the look.
When she was done she watched Brenda, dressed in a white shirt and matching pants, run her fingers through her hair. It was as close as she ever got to styling.
“Uh, Bren? Why don’t you let me do up your face tonight?”
“What?”
“You know—paint your face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with makeup. Or jewelry. Here, what about these?” Jo lulled a pair of over-sized silver hoops out of her jewelry case. “Try these on.”
“You want to tart me up?” Brenda asked with a shrug. “Okay. Just don’t do overboard.”
“Good. Sit over here and let me get my crayons,” Jo said, pulling a chair near a window to catch the light.
Jo made Brenda’s eyes look much like her own, then applied a blusher to her cheeks and a pale lipstick. With the earrings, Brenda’s looks were softened. Pretty, even.
“If only I could get you into a dress, you’d be a knock-out,” Jo said.
Brenda looked into the mirror. “Wow! Look at me! Maybe I’ll get hit on tonight.”
For their last dinner in Ronda, Brenda chose a small, intimate restaurant recommended by the concierge at their hotel. The three of them sat in a secluded corner of the rustic room next to a floor-to-ceiling window that looked down across the magnificent gorge to the farmland below.
Danny seemed predictably impressed with Brenda’s physical transformation. He made a show of taking each woman’s hand in his and gallantly kissing the back of it as he complimented them both on their beauty.
As before, he helped with the food and wine menu, suggesting a white wine made from the Verdejo grape to begin the evening, pairing it with a plate of cold shrimp tapas. He looked so handsome, Jo thought, in his dark shirt and pants. Freshly shaved, he smelled of some manly soap or something. The waitress came by to uncork the wine and light the candles, and Danny’s eyes alternately reflected candlelight and the glow of the sunset as he looked from Jo to Brenda, and back again.
“A toast,” he said, raising his glass. “To Brenda, for giving us this wonderful day.”
The two women dutifully raised their glasses and drank, smiling at his earnest good manners.
“Yes. To Brenda, who had to stay behind to work, poor baby,” said Jo.
“So, what did you two get up to today?” Brenda asked, painted face all innocence as she took another drink and looked with darkened eyes at one, then the other, of her companions.
Jo grinned as Danny, not faltering for a second, began to list the chronology of their journey. Then he rattled off the subjects of most of the photos he’d shot. Jo was surprised he could remember them all.
Brenda, too, broke into a wide smile at his professionalism. Whatever he and Jo had been up to, a gentleman would never tell.
After the white wine and the shrimp were gone, Danny ordered a Tempranillo called Tinto Fino to enjoy with their first course. He’d wanted to try the house specialty—stuffed artichokes. Jo’s mouth began to water the moment they were placed in front of her. They smelled of spiced meat and herbs, and they tasted like no artichokes she’d even eaten before. The smooth wine was a perfect pairing.
As she ate, she felt Danny’s leg, under the tablecloth, rubbing against hers. She rubbed back, surreptitiously, relaxed and happy.
A second bottle of Tinto Fino accompanied their third course. Danny grew bolder, beginning to stroke Jo’s thigh. Soon he flipped up the hem of her skirt and reached higher. She squirmed in her seat as her pulse began to race. But she kept her legs firmly closed. After all, there was a time and a place for everything. And that time was later, the place somewhere else.
This time they ate roasted lamb. Tiny little legs of baby lamb, no bigger than turkey legs, roasted in a wood-fired oven. The meat was sweet and tender and juicy, and Jo felt faintly guilty for indulging in such carnivorous pleasure but she just couldn’t help herself from exclaiming over it.
“This has got to be the best flesh I’ve ever tasted,” she said as she pulled Danny’s hard hand from between her legs.
Brenda had to see what was going on, Jo thought, but her friend was pretending oblivion.
When Danny excused himself for a few moments, Brenda leaned close to Jo and asked, slurring a little, “He’s so pretty, and he’s obviously got the hots for you, but is he any good in the sack?”
Jo, all inhibitions tamped down, grinned and said in an earnest voice, “We didn’t have a lot of time—but I can tell you,” and here she lowered her voice to a whisper, “he’s got a most talented tongue.”
Brenda raised her eyebrows. “I could get into that.”
“And you should. When’s the last time you got a little? He likes you, Bren. Go for it.”
Jo was too relaxed to feel her usual discomfort around speaking to Brenda about sex. She knew her friend “didn’t like cock.” But Danny was not threatening in the least, and as beautiful as a girl. Jo thought Brenda might enjoy Danny making love to her. As long as he kept his cock out of sight.
“I might just do that,” Brenda whispered as Danny took his seat.
Then they ordered a creamy flan for dessert. By now Jo was too full and too heady with wine and happiness to protest when Brenda ordered after-dinner liqueurs and Danny’s persistent fingers found their way to her wet thong.
Bad, bad girl.
She laughed at herself. At how much fun she was having. Then she opened her legs a little wider.
By now it was quite dark, both outside and in their little corner of the restaurant. Jo didn’t care if Brenda, or anyone else, could see what Danny was doing with his hand. She was on fire. If it hadn’t been for the tango she’d promised herself, she would have steered Danny right back to his room ASAP.
But I’m drunk. I can’t dance. I don’t think I can even walk.
Brenda paid the bill while Jo stumbled to her feet, and, with a little help from her friends managed to get herself outside and into the cool night of the lamp-lit street. She took some deep breaths to clear her head.
There. That’s better. Fresh air. Movement. Sure, I can still dance. Maybe.
Held up on each side, Jo was steered in the general direction of the music she
could hear growing louder with each step. It felt good to be held onto like this. Danny was strong and protective, but so was Brenda. Jo felt tears in her eyes as she thought of how much her friend must care for her.
Maybe Bren loves me more than anyone. I’m sorry I can’t love her back like she wants me to.
Once they got to the busy venue, Danny parked his two charges at a table and went off to talk to someone he seemed to know. The musicians appeared to be taking a break. Jo looked at her friend, tears still brimming in her eyes, and said, “Thank you, Bren. Thank you.” She reached over and grasped Brenda’s hand.
“You’re welcome. Of course,” Brenda said, more slowly than she usually spoke. “But what exactly are you thanking me for?”
“Just for being you, I guess.” Jo gave a lopsided shrug. “And for looking after me,” she added, wiping at her eyes with the hem of her shawl.
“Of course I’m looking after you, baby. Don’t cry about it. It’s what I do. You and your fucking men,” she added in a not-so-subtle whisper.
“I know. I know. My fucking men. It’s what I do.” She tipped sideways into Brenda and hugged her, hard. “Thank you for caring so much.”
Danny suddenly reappeared and the musicians started up again. He sat down and looked at Jo carefully, as if judging whether or not she was sound. She met his gaze squarely and smiled.
“Have you told her?” he asked Jo gently.
“I have not.” Jo smiled at him sweetly.
“Told me what?” Brenda demanded with mock sternness.
“I think Jo has a surprise for you.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“You’ll see,” Jo answered, staring at Danny’s dark eyes. “You’ll tell me when it’s a go?”
“I will. Now what do you ladies want to drink?”
Half a glass of Rioja later and when the music was right. Danny stood up, offered Jo his hand, and led her onto the dance floor.
“Just relax,” he whispered into her ear. “And follow me, this time.”