The Maestro

by Leo Barton

  She was weightless. They were carrying her towards the spotlight, into the light and onto the sofa where she had just witnessed Maria caning the young Spanish girl. She glanced up at the black man carrying her, his arms threaded through hers; his hands were squashing her breasts over her dress. She was aware of a crowd of people moving towards her, cheering at her. She felt both bewildered and exhilarated.

  A moment later she was on the sofa. She watched the beautiful man in the black linen suit as he sneaked his fingers under the soft black lace of her brassiere. She could feel the heat of his hands over her chest, brushing against her throbbing rubbery nipples. Alfonso was there too, still pulling the gusset of her panties aside, his tongue rolling over each of her sex lips, his teeth lightly nipping the swollen fleshy folds, making her tingle. One of his hands was now pushing down on her abdomen, increasing the pressure inside her, building another wave of increasingly uninhibited pleasure.

  The beautiful black man in the silk shirt and the linen suit had removed his enormous cock from his trousers and stroked it in front of Linda's eyes. It was irresistible. Alfonso was flicking his tongue inside her, his hand still pressing down on her abdomen increasing the tension she felt inside her.

  She took the robust cock of the young man into her mouth. He held it by the base of his shaft as she slid up and down on him, spreading her own saliva over the skin, taking him so far into her mouth her lips touched his fingers. He tasted so salty, so fresh.

  The pressure in her abdomen was now joined by a tingling sensation in her breast as the man tweaked hard on her swollen nipples. She arched her neck further over and, threading her hand under his thighs, pressed first against his perineum and then pushed her finger on his tight anus.

  As Linda slid a finger up the man's bottom Alfonso had slid a finger up hers, pressing against the thin membrane that separated her rectum from her vagina, as his tongue pressed against the wall of tissue on the other side. She sucked harder on the boy, using her fingers and hand to propel her mouth further down onto his shaft. The boy continued to tweak her nipples painfully, and with his other hand occasionally tugged on her hair, adding another frisson of pain over the overwhelming pleasure that pulsated through her body.

  She felt that her body would explode with the skilful way that Alfonso manipulated her. However each time she thought she was going to come, Alfonso would ease the pressure on her so she stayed on the brink of climax, her sexual hunger making her suck even more greedily on the boy.

  Her next recollection was of lying on the parquet floor beside the sofa, her dress having being pulled up over her thighs and pulled down over her breasts so it gathered at her waist, her white panties having being roughly tugged down. She was pinned down by the arms by the repulsive bald compere, his thick cock flopping onto her face, tickling her skin, his love juice slithering onto the side of her blushed cheek. Alfonso had raised her lower torso and clasped the meat of her inner thighs, pushing them down onto her chest, so hard that his fingernails dug into the whiteness of her flesh. The black man was fucking her hard, his long cock ferociously pumping inside her, his finger now jabbing inside her anus, squashing up against the movement of his hard thick cock.

  Her eyes were shut tight, clenched over the multiple sensations she was feeling. The bald man had slipped his thick cock into her mouth. It tasted different to the younger man's; his semen was thicker and saltier. She could hardly move her head as his tool pistoned in her. She felt the sharp pain in her arms as his knees constricted her; she felt Alfonso's grip tightening even harder on her, her breasts squashed flat against her knees and the delightful sensation of a rigid pole pushing hard and deep inside her.

  Momentarily she opened her eyes, seeking release from the immensity of the intense physical sensations that pulsated inside her. She saw a crowd of faces looking down at her. Some were staring into her eyes, some at the steel-hard rod that flicked in and out of her mouth; others were glued to her exposed sex, the swollen folds of her quim on display for all to see. She could see the greed and the lust in their faces, both men and women, but she had passed the stage of concerning herself about being seen so nakedly. In fact it added another layer of excitement over the already exhilarating pleasure she felt. And she was so modest normally, had always been.

  The bald man jismed in her mouth. She felt his hot seed exploding inside her, filling her until she had to move her head sideways to avoid it slipping down her throat. The sight must have driven the black man to the brink of orgasm because he began fucking her harder and harder with a ruthless manic thrusting. He was panting. There was a gleam of perspiration on his forehead. She reached her hand down to touch his where they had so firmly clasped her by her buttocks. She was coming. Her body started its paroxysm as she jerked against the constraints of hands and knees and arms that had been placed on her, and then felt hot seed gushing into her, its heat extending each pulse of her orgasm.

  She looked at the crowd one more time. Her eyes momentarily focused on one face that looked slightly less satiric than the others did, something more curious in his mien, the dark soulful eyes, the full lips and the thick wiry beard. She lost the face and the memory of the face, her eyes clenching tight as she rode the waves of her orgasm to its intense conclusion.

  Chapter 4

  The memories came back slowly, reality blending with dream, the former only very slowly disentangling from the latter. Even as her mind gained full consciousness from the heavy sleep into which she had fallen, she could not be totally sure what had happened and what she had dreamed.

  The problem was that she could only remember things disconnectedly. She could recollect that Maria had held her in her arms and she had buried her head on the girl's chest. Then they had been in a taxi, although Alfonso hadn't been there. She remembered the noise from the busy streets, late night revellers sitting under parasols, then later the quiet deserted streets around La Sagrada Familia, before speeding along a stretch of coast...

  Suddenly she realised that she was not in her hotel room but at Maria's. She was lying in a king-size bed, a stream of light entering the room. She could smell the sea and hear the ululations of distant seagulls.

  She turned her head around and noticed an indentation on the pillow beside her. There was no mistake. She had slept with Maria. Nothing had happened, but she could recall watching Maria undressing, stepping out of the white dress, her beautiful breasts shimmering in the moonlight, then a glimpse of the white curves of her bottom as she climbed between the sheets. Linda had kissed her breasts gently and they had fallen asleep in each other's arms.

  She didn't know what to think about what had happened the previous night. The experience had been too immense for it to be reified into something as clear and discernible as past experience. She could remember the intensity of her orgasm, but she also recalled with some horror the lascivious eyes staring at her nakedness, and recoiled from the memory. She decided not to think about it at all, to temporarily blanket it in her mind until distance could create a more rational perspective.

  She took in the simple decor of the room, the white stucco walls, a couple of Kadinsky prints, and the French windows, opening onto terracotta tiled balcony.

  The sudden realisation dawned on her that she hadn't rung Sebastian. They had arranged that she should ring him on his mobile phone because, even though Sebastian had Alfonso's number, he preferred her to ring him so that they could speak together in privacy.

  As she thought about Sebastian, Maria entered the room dressed in a bottle-green towline bathrobe. Her face was open and smiling. She seemed a completely different girl from the night before; gone was the bored expression, the laconic posturing, the sulky petulance. She looked cheerful and interested.

  'Ah Linda. You're awake. How are you?'

  'Fine, I think.'

  'That was some night,' Maria said, smiling again before sitting beside Linda on the white sheet of the bed.

  'What happened?'

  'Don't you remember
?'

  'I remember some things.'

  'You were fantastic.'

  'How did I end up here?'

  'I thought it was best. You fainted after...'

  'I fainted?'

  'Yes, I thought that I better bring you home so that I could look after you.'

  'Thank you.' Images of the previous night still flitted through Linda's mind. She thought of the sight of the seemingly innocent woman in front of her whipping the bare-bottomed girl on the stage.

  'That champagne, what was in it?'

  'Nothing more than a mild aphrodisiac.'

  'I should have been told.'

  'Linda, the champagne helped arouse you. It didn't stop you from walking out.'

  'Still, all the same.'

  'Are you angry?'

  'A little.'

  'I'm sorry.' Maria smiled, her eyes beaming radiantly.

  'Where am I?' Linda asked, not at all sure whether she was angry or not.

  'Only thirty kilometres north of Barcelona.'

  'Where's Alfonso?'

  'It's Sunday.'

  'So?'

  'He's a true Catalan man. It's Sunday so he has to go home to lunch with his mother and father and grandparents. It's something of a tradition here. But he's going to call in a few minutes, to talk about your portfolio.'

  'Sorry?'

  'He's at your hotel. He's looking through your work. Don't you remember, you asked for an opinion last night? You gave him the key to your room. You understood that he wanted to look alone. Don't you remember?'

  She didn't remember at all, she must have been incredibly drunk. She didn't really like the idea of Alfonso rummaging around in her hotel room.

  'Look, I have to make a phone call.'

  'No problem.'

  'To Peru.'

  Maria smiled and passed her the phone that lay on her dressing room table at the side of her bed.

  'Thanks.' She dialled the number and let it ring. There was no answer. He could have been in some meeting with the director, something legitimate, but an image of Sebastian fucking a naked Simone Jaeger, his luscious sexy co-star, came to mind. Hadn't he said something about meeting up with Simone Jaeger at Lima airport? She was pretty sure it wouldn't take him very long to bed her. She would be a temptation to any man, with that beautiful black wavy hair, the sable eyes and those suggestive, shapely lips. And then there was the figure, the broad hips and the unbelievably narrow waist, and those breasts were amazing! It didn't matter, as she had bitchily thought, that the breasts were silicone or that her lips were colegened, nor that she couldn't act, she was still beautiful; it certainly wouldn't matter to Sebastian.

  She recalled a conversation they'd had before his departure. She had seen her picture in a magazine, and Sebastian casually mentioned that she was to star in the same film as him.

  'You're certainly going to have some fun.'

  'With her. Not my type.' He was sitting on the sofa, downing a whisky and reading the newspaper.

  'I remember her in that film. Didn't she play a spy or something in that awful American thing we watched?'

  'Yes, but not very convincingly. I've heard she's hell to work with. Number one in the prima donna stakes.'

  'I'm sure you'll be able to handle her,' Linda said facetiously.

  He had looked up from the paper and smiled knowingly, almost conceitedly, confident in his knowledge that like most other beautiful women he had acted with, he could have her if he wanted.

  Just after she passed the phone back to Maria it began to ring again. She thought it must be Sebastian. She knew he had a call back facility on his telephone.

  Maria answered and then passed the phone back to Linda: 'It's for you.'

  'Linda, como estas.'

  'Fine thanks.' It was Alfonso. She couldn't quite keep the bathos out of her voice.

  'I looked at the work.' A purposeful, measured pause followed.

  'Yes,' Linda interrupted.

  'Ce fantastique,' Alfonso answered, showing his polyglot credentials.

  'Really?' She was now genuinely interested in Alfonso's opinion. She hadn't been over-impressed by much of his own work that he had shown her, far too derivative of a certain modernist strand, all concept but little craft, but Alfonso, she knew, had made a considerable amount of money in his dealings on the art market.

  'The lithographs are highly original and the watercolours. Where did you get the idea of drawing all those figures in the 'Satyriasis' series?'

  'They're based on Minoan primitives.'

  'I can't see any problem in getting an exhibition for you. You must bring them tomorrow when you meet Delgado.'

  'You mean I have an appointment?'

  'Not just an appointment. If successful tomorrow, you start working with him this week.'

  'Where do I go?'

  'Meet me at the bottom of Las Ramblas. The studios are in Barcelonetta.'

  'Fantastic.'

  It was only some time later, when the passing elation of Alfonso's enthusiasm for her work had slightly abated, that she recalled that he hadn't made any reference at all to what had happened the previous night.

  She breakfasted on fresh orange juice and coffee with Maria beside her on the tiled balcony overlooking a considerably sized swimming pool, and beyond the turquoise sea of the Mediterranean.

  The house where Maria lived was beautiful; a white villa perched atop a small hill overlooking the sea, with a golden stretch of beach below.

  Maria didn't speak much at all, but over her coffee she smiled broadly. The change in her demeanour caused Linda a great deal of curiosity and as Maria poured her a second cup of coffee, she could not resist asking her what had caused the change.

  'I was worried for you.'

  'Sorry.'

  'Alfonso is an interesting man. I like Alfonso, but I wasn't sure about what he was doing with you, you know, the champagne.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I mean I didn't know what you were like. You're English, you're different. I thought it was wrong when he told me he was going to take you to El Attico. I didn't know if you were up to it.'

  'But you encouraged me to go!' Linda remembered the way Maria had grabbed her arm after they had left the restaurant.

  'That was later. That was after I realised what you were like, that that was what you wanted.'

  'How did you know?' Linda asked.

  'It was the way you talked and the way you looked at me. I could see you were hungry for that kind of experience.'

  Maria was right of course, Linda thought to herself. She remembered the previous night, and how sex had seemed to have lodged in her brain ever since the idea of coming to work in Barcelona had become a real possibility, but she was not prepared to confess it to the younger woman.

  'Maybe,' Linda said noncommittally.

  'You feel a little guilty, about what happened, last night?'

  'No, I don't feel guilty,' Linda said.

  Maria smiled quite impishly.

  'Would you like to go for a swim?' Maria asked.

  'I'd love to.'

  On the way down the steep stone steps to the swimming pool, Linda wearing a white bathrobe that Maria had lent her, Maria explained that her parents were away in America for the next few days. They too, it transpired, were dealers in the art world. When Maria told her that her surname was Rojas, Linda instantly realised that she was with the daughter of one of the most prestigious art dealers in Europe if not the world. It dawned on her that the Kadinsky on Maria's bedroom wall had been no reproduction.

  'Don't worry; this pool was built for seclusion. You can be naked here if you want.'

  Again some inherent sense of timidity overcame the English woman as she watched Maria unveil her beautiful body, the velvet skin, the body tan, the wonderful round swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the wispy black pubic hair, and above, the flat stomach.

  Naked, Maria dived into the pool and once she was in Linda divested herself of the robe, climbed into the
water, and began to breaststroke to the other side of the pool.

  She loved the feel of the cool water on her body, the freedom of swimming naked, feeling the water on every pore of her skin, and on her face as she turned onto her back, the sun on her cheeks.

  After both women had swam a few lengths they climbed out of the water and lay side by side in the shade on two sun loungers.

  'Tell me Maria, how did you meet Alfonso?'

  'The art world is a small world, and my father has helped him a lot. It was inevitable that we should meet.'

  'Is he your only lover?'

  'I don't have lovers, Linda. I love life and I love making love, but I don't want to commit to anybody, not in that way, not yet.'

  'That sounds like something Alfonso might have said.'

  'We are not so dissimilar.'

  'Why were you so cold with me last night?' Linda couldn't resist asking the question.

  'It's my way I suppose. I know I pretended that my English wasn't so good. Actually, it's really quite excellent. I lived in Oxford for two years when I was a child. I wasn't laughing at you Linda. I like to study people. I like to find out who they are before I allow myself to be free with them. It was a way of hiding until I got a closer look.'

  'How old are you?'

  'Twenty-two. Why do you ask?'

  'You seem very wise.'

  'Is it not that you think, knowing what Alfonso is like, that he has somehow corrupted me?'

  'I did wonder.'

  'We had a meeting of souls. Perhaps I could marry Alfonso because we think in the same way.'

  'How did you get to think like that?'

  'You mean how was I corrupted?' Maria laughed, her eyes smiled, but her mouth turned pouty.

  'No, I don't want you to get the idea that I am judging you.'

  'No, I know, you are not so different from me, Linda.'

  'I really don't know.'

  'Let me tell you something.'

  'Please!'

  'I had sex when I was a young girl, but like most young girls who lose the virginity it was not such a special experience for me. It left me too hungry, too curious. I wanted to know more. I wanted to learn more. I am a very sensual girl. I love the pleasures of life, not just sex, everything. Making love with a boy my age did not fulfil me so much. I wanted to know more. Do you understand?'