The Secret Heiress

by Judith Gould

  He paused and drew back again. He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Here,” he said. “Sit on the bed.” He led her there, then took off her thick socks, her jeans, and finally her panties. When she was completely naked, he drew in his breath sharply, his eyes running up and down her body. Leaning over, he placed a kiss on the blond thatch between her thighs. He stood up then, and quickly took off the rest of his clothes. When he was completely naked, he stood in front of her, his manhood fully engorged. Ariadne reached out and took it in her hand, and Matt swooned with desire, tilting his head back, letting her caress him.

  Then abruptly, he took her hand in his and removed it. “You’re driving me crazy,” he said.

  Ariadne smiled triumphantly, pleased to see her effect on him.

  “Let’s spread out,” he said. He pulled the pillows out from the cover and piled one of top of the other. Ariadne lay on her back, her head propped up slightly on the pillows. Matt got on the bed, getting onto his knees between her legs. Gazing down at her, his eyes explored her pale flesh with relish. “You are so beautiful,” he said again, “and I want you so much.”

  Leaning over, he kissed her breasts, first one, then the other, teasing her nipples with his tongue again. Ariadne felt a damp readiness between her thighs. “Matt, oh, Matt . . . ,” she whimpered. “I want you, too. Oh, yes. I want you.” His tongue trailed down to her navel, circled it, then moved on down to her golden pubis. He kissed it and licked it, then sought out her wet lips and licked them tenderly before finally entering her with his tongue.

  Ariadne cried out with erotic delight and put her hands on his head, her fingers stroking his dark curly hair. Pushing herself against him, she moaned and groaned with a newfound pleasure. No one had ever given her such joy, and she had until this moment doubted that such a feeling of utter carnal bliss existed. Matt’s tongue delved and explored vigorously, as if he’d found a treasure that he could never let go of. When he gradually withdrew, Ariadne rasped, “Please, please. I want you.”

  He mounted her, his mouth on hers, kissing her with wild abandon. Then he slowly entered her, and Ariadne cried out again. Her passion was such that she thought she would have an orgasm at any moment, and as he began to fill her with his manhood, she threw her arms around him tightly, holding him against her with all her might. She never wanted this to end. Never. She had never felt anything like it before, and she knew that it was because she wanted him—Matt—like she had never wanted any other man.

  He began thrusting in and out, his speed increasing, and they moved in a wild erotic rhythm, giving in to their desires completely, letting go of any inhibitions that they might have had. Ariadne felt her muscles begin to contract, and she cried as she felt her body orgasm, overwhelming her with its power. Matt let out a loud bellow, and she could feel his cock spasm inside her, again and again, as he exploded, his body heaving against hers, pumping mightily as he emptied himself.

  “Oh, my God,” he rasped breathlessly. “Oh, my God, Ariadne.” He wrapped her in his arms and lowered himself against her, his body, like her own, slick with a sheen of perspiration. He laughed breathily. “Thank . . . you . . . I have never . . . come like that. Not . . . in my life.” He kissed her, gasping for breath as she was, then squeezed her tightly and lay still atop her.

  She stroked his back as she caught her breath, listening to his pants, inhaling the erotic scent of their sex, her body sated, her mind still whirling with a sense of fulfillment and satisfaction that she’d never experienced. No, she thought. Not like this.

  When at last he could speak, Matt whispered, “You . . . you are the greatest. I feel like the luckiest man alive. I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you, but I never had any idea it would be like this.”

  “I didn’t, either,” she said. “And I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

  He kissed her tenderly. “I don’t want to move,” he said. “Ever.”

  She laughed softly. “We’ll have to sometime, won’t we?”

  He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “Next week maybe?”

  She hugged him to her. “Too soon,” she murmured.

  He was supposed to take her back to the dorm Saturday evening so she could study, but Saturday turned into Sunday. It was finally Monday morning when they got back in the Jeep and headed toward Williamstown.

  Chapter Eleven

  The streets in the meatpacking district, once a no-man’s-land in downtown Manhattan, were crowded with hip trendsetters on their way to restaurants and bars in the now-fashionable part of town. When Bianca emerged from the company limo, Frans was waiting for her on the sidewalk in front of Pastis, the chic bistro where she’d asked to meet.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he greeted her, putting his arms around her and kissing her with passion.

  “Wow!” she said with a laugh. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  The restaurant was crowded and noisy, but a table in a corner had been reserved for them, as Bianca had requested. They sat side by side at the small table, and he took one of her hands in his and kissed her. She wanted to give him her news in a public venue, where it was unlikely he would make a fuss.

  The waiter appeared. “Anything to drink?”

  Bianca ordered a glass of chardonnay.

  “You, sir?”

  Frans looked up at the waiter and smiled. “Water,” he said.

  “Still or carbonated?”

  “Tap,” Frans said.

  The waiter smiled and left.

  “Oh, you’re being so good,” Bianca said.

  “I have to be,” Frans replied. “You know that. I don’t dare gain an ounce of weight with all these photo shoots lined up, so it’s water and tuna in water nearly all the time. Besides”—he looked at her and smiled sadly—“I want to stay as clearheaded as possible.”

  Bianca stroked his cheek with a hand. “You’re always clearheaded,” she said, “if a little too trusting.”

  “I know. I still can’t believe how evil some people are.”

  He didn’t even want to say Nikoletta’s name, Bianca thought. After she had finally called him at Adrian’s urging, she’d discovered that he was truly heartbroken. Their reunion had been swift, and every day had been a joy since then, but they were keeping their relationship very quiet. When Frans moved in with her, she didn’t tell a soul, not even her father.

  “How did the shoot go today?” she asked.

  “It went really well,” he replied. “How was your day?”

  “Okay,” Bianca said, “but I’m about to OD on new information.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been given a big new assignment,” she said. “It’s the first one with this new position.”

  “What is it?” Frans asked with interest. “You look excited about it.”

  “I am,” Bianca replied. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. One of those assignments that could make a lot of difference in people’s lives. At least that’s what I hope.”

  “What—?”

  The waiter reappeared with their drinks and placed them on the table. “Are you ready to order?” he asked.

  “I’ll take the steak,” Bianca said, pointing to the one she wanted on the menu. “Rare. And the fries.”

  “That’s all?” the waiter asked.

  Bianca nodded.

  “I’ll have the same steak, also rare,” Frans said, “and a salad with nothing but greens. Olive oil on the side.”

  The waiter nodded and took their menus away.

  “Now,” Frans said, putting an arm around her shoulders, “tell me about this assignment of yours.”

  “Well . . . ,” Bianca said, clearing her throat, “I’m going to Ivory Coast to work with—”

  Frans removed his arm from around her shoulders and sat up straight in his chair. “Ivory Coast!” he exclaimed. “Isn’t that where they’re having that civil war?”

  “Wait a minute,” Bianca said defensively, clutching his hand in hers. “Don’t
get too excited about it. I will have guards, Frans. Armed guards. I will be well protected. And—”

  “I’m telling you, it’s very dangerous there, Bianca. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of. I mean, what would you be doing there anyway?”

  “Calm down,” she said. “The company produces cocoa for chocolate there, and what I would be doing is trying to convince the farmers and planters to let their children go to school rather than work.”

  “What?” he said in bewilderment.

  “I would be trying to stop the use of child labor. Don’t you see how this could help those children?”

  Frans nodded. “I understand that,” he said, “and I know it’s a worthy cause. But, Bianca, what if something happens to you there?”

  She grasped his hand again. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, darling.”

  “I—I couldn’t go on living without you,” he declared miserably. “I mean it. When I thought I had lost you, I didn’t want to live anymore, Bianca. I really didn’t.”

  “I know that,” she said, stroking his hand. “And I don’t know what I would do without you, either, but this is something that I feel like I have to do, Frans. Surely you can understand that.”

  He nodded. “Yes, of course, but it still scares me.”

  “You are so sweet,” she said. She reached down into the small shopping bag she’d brought in with her. “I brought each of us a present.”

  “Oh, come on,” he protested. “You didn’t have to do that, Bianca.”

  “Oh, yes, I did,” she replied. “Look, these are to help put your mind at ease.” She handed him one of the two small packages. “Go ahead and open it.”

  Frans unwrapped his package and looked down at the present, then looked up at her. “Why did you get this? You know I already have a Palm Pilot.”

  “Yes,” she said, “but you don’t have one in platinum or with your initials on it.” She finished unwrapping hers and pressed some keys. “Besides, your old one is way outdated.”

  “Well, it is outdated, but I hardly ever use it—”

  “What I figured was,” she interjected, “we’d vow not to use these for anything except communicating with each other.”

  “I like that idea,” Frans said, more enthusiastic. “In fact, I love that idea.”

  “And they’re already activated,” Bianca declared. “Look.”

  Frans watched her for a moment, then fiddled with his until he retrieved the message she’d just sent: I love you.

  “Whoa!” He grinned. “Hey, this is pretty cool!” He kissed her. “But you shouldn’t have done this.”

  “But I did,” Bianca said. “Just remember.” She gazed into his eyes. “They’re not for anything except personal communication between us. Promise?”

  Frans was silent while he tapped out a message.

  Bianca retrieved it: Cross my heart. She looked up and smiled. “See? Now it doesn’t matter if I’m stuck in Timbuktu. We can send messages back and forth.”

  Frans gazed at her adoringly. “You really are too much,” he said. “You know that?”

  “Yep.” She grinned. “I probably am.”

  “I mean, you’re, like, totally crazed, Bianca.” He hugged her tightly.

  “I’m totally crazed about you,” she emphasized. “I can hardly wait to get home with you and rip your shirt right off of you.”

  “And I can’t wait for you to do it,” he replied.

  Bianca drew back from him and tapped out a message.

  Frans looked down and retrieved it: Then why are we sitting here? What do you say we skip dinner and go have great sex? He looked up at her. “I would love to,” he said.

  Chapter Twelve

  Adrian Single and two security men rushed into a waiting car at the airport in Lima, Peru, taking them to the site of a toxic-waste plant several miles south of the city. The security men, Jeff Austin and Bill Cawley, were dressed as he was—dark suit, tie, and highly polished shoes—but they were highly trained guards armed with automatic revolvers. Adrian didn’t know what to expect when they arrived.

  As they neared the plant, he found himself repulsed by the devastation of the landscape. There didn’t appear to be a living plant or animal as far as the eye could see.

  Jeff said, “It’s a damn lunar landscape.”

  Adrian nodded in agreement, his gaze riveted to the nightmarish atmosphere outside his window.

  “Je-sus!” Bill cried. “Look at that!”

  “What is it?” Adrian asked.

  “Over there,” Bill said, pointing a finger on his side of the car. “A dog with its paws wrapped up in rags. What the hell?”

  Adrian saw a skinny dog limping toward them, all four of its paws swathed in rags tied in place with cord. Then he saw three more dogs, straggling along behind it. They, too, had their feet wrapped.

  “What’s that all about?” Jeff asked.

  “The earth is poisoned. They can’t walk on it without burning their feet,” Hector, the driver, said.

  “What? Are you kidding me?” Bill said.

  “No.” Hector shook his head. “Nobody can walk barefoot around here. The closer you get to the plant, the worse it gets.”

  Adrian felt a sour splash in his stomach. The landscape, the dogs—the entire scenario was repellent. He had known from the beginning that the toxic-waste facility might pose problems to the environment, and for that reason he’d discouraged Nikoletta from pursuing the purchase. When she went ahead and bought it anyway, he had read reports from the plant manager regarding environmental hazards, and he’d thought they were hyperbolic. When he’d consulted with Nikoletta about the matter, she’d claimed to have personally talked to government regulators in Peru and resolved any issues relating to the environment. Now he wondered how honest she’d been with him or what kind of bribes she paid Peruvian regulators.

  As the car approached the facility, automobiles and trucks lined both sides of the road, and a steady trickle of demonstrators, mostly men, but even women and children among them, came and went from the plant’s gates. The closer the car got, the slower it had to move as the trickle became a crowd. Finally, the car had to come to a crawl. The road was clogged with demonstrators.

  A woman, screaming loudly, her eyes blazing with fury, rushed toward the car. She held a baby aloft and shoved its feet and then its hands toward the window next to which Adrian sat. He couldn’t understand a word the woman was screeching, but he could clearly see what appeared to be burns on the baby’s hands and feet.

  “Damn,” Jeff said, “that’s disgusting.”

  As the car reached the gates, Adrian noticed Mother Earth’s Children activists among the demonstrators. The militants were hard to miss with their familiar green armbands centered by an upraised black fist. Oh, no, he thought. This could mean real trouble. Some of them were teenagers, but others were well into their twenties and thirties and even older, as evidenced by their hair. They wore everything from dreadlocks to shaved heads to green-tinted Mohawks to white hair pulled back into buns. Mother Earth’s Children wouldn’t listen to reason, and they would make negotiating a lot more difficult.

  Directly in front of the car, the gates into the facility were blocked by demonstrators, but the driver persevered, laying on the horn, and finally the tide parted, allowing the guards to open the gates and let them through. Plant workers on the inside had joined the demonstration, and the route to the office building was lined with an unruly mob, shaking their fists at the car and throwing stones.

  “Hang on,” Hector said, and he stomped on the gas pedal. The car jumped the curb that separated the parking area from the concrete apron in front of the office building, and the driver headed straight for the glass doors that led inside. Just before reaching them, he spun the wheel to the left, fishtailing the rear end around so that the passenger side of the car was no more than a few feet from the doors. On the opposite side of the glass, they saw two armed guards, weapons drawn.

  “Close as I
can get,” the driver said.

  “Very good,” Adrian said, already opening his door. “Could you come with us to translate? Just as far as inside the doors?”

  Hector shrugged. “Sure, why not?” he said, as if the dangers presented by the mob didn’t frighten him in the least.

  “Ready, guys?” Adrian asked, looking toward both Jeff and Bill.

  “You bet, boss,” Jeff said. He slipped his revolver out of its holster. Bill already had his out, and his hand was ready to shove his door open.

  “Let’s go,” Adrian said, pushing his door open at the same time.

  The men leaped out of the car at the same time and rushed to the doors to the office building, but the guards shook their heads, refusing to open them.

  Hector yelled at them in Spanish, and after the guards exchanged a few words, they unlocked one of the doors and opened it a couple of inches. Adrian grabbed it and slipped inside, closely followed by the other men. One of the guards locked the door behind them.

  “Tell me what this is all about,” Adrian said to one of the guards.

  The man stared at him uncomprehendingly.

  Hector repeated the question in Spanish and listened to the guard’s reply. “No raises and the working conditions,” he said. “Also, because word has leaked out that there’s a shipment of uranium about to arrive.”

  “Where do they have Nikoletta?” Adrian asked.

  Again, Hector spoke to the guards. “In the plant manager’s office on the third floor.”

  “Let’s go,” Adrian said, leading the way to the elevator. “Hector, please be ready to leave.”

  The men crowded into the small elevator car and went up to the top floor of the building. When they exited, they found a small knot of nearly hysterical secretaries and several men in suits.

  “Where’s the boss?” Adrian asked.

  One of the secretaries pointed down the hallway, and Adrian led the way to an open door. Inside the large office, Nikoletta sat at a large desk with two executives. They were surrounded by a crowd of men in soiled work clothes, who wheeled around and glared at Adrian and his bodyguards.