by Desiree Holt, Lisabet Sarai, Lily Harlem, Elizabeth Coldwell, Wendi Zwaduk, Imari Jade
A sudden knot of apprehension tightened in my stomach. The pleasure of three. That was the title of their new piece of music. Naomi’s words came tumbling back to me as I followed Nancy up a wide, carpeted stairs. Sexy videos, saucy images, hot studs with talented fingers. Oh, boy, what have I got myself into?
Nancy ushered me into a bedroom where a young makeup artist sat reading Cosmo, her palettes, pots and brushes spread out on a dressing table. “Sarah will sort you out. She’s got your underwear too.”
“Underwear?”
“Yes, that’s what you will be wearing for the shoot.” Nancy suddenly clapped her hands and her face went stern. “Now step to it, I want this thing ready to go in ten.”
The door clicked shut and I dropped my huge Gucci handbag on a chair. “Hey,” I said to Sarah.
“It’s so great to meet you, Miss O’Dell. I’m really excited to be making you up. It’s an honour…a dream, actually.”
I nodded. “Thanks, what am I wearing?”
She reached towards a rail, plucked off a scarlet bra and thong set, and held it out for me. “New season La Perla.”
I studied it with a critical eye. The lacy bra was balcony style, which would shove up my small breasts and make them appear fuller. The thong had matching lace detail at the hips and was miniscule, but size didn’t matter. I had not a single pubic hair to worry about—I regularly had everything from my neck downwards waxed—and my bum was pert, tight, and perfectly smooth after a full body conditioning treatment on Sunday.
I quickly stripped naked. I’d long since lost any kind of embarrassment with taking off my clothes in front of wardrobe and makeup staff. Sarah folded my jeans and T-shirt as I slipped on the beautifully crafted underwear. It made me feel instantly sexy and I couldn’t help but wish I’d used Enrique twice that morning to take the edge off my insatiable libido. God, I miss having a hot, hard man in my bed.
“It looks wonderful,” Sarah said. “The guys will love it.”
“You know them?” I asked as I sat on a high stool.
“Well, I only just met them this morning.” She gave a shy smile. “But what they say is true.”
“What do they say?” I tilted my chin and shut my eyes as she rubbed a light foundation over my chin, nose and forehead.
“That they’re gorgeous and charming and no woman stands a chance of a sane thought when they’re around.”
I opened my eyes. “That’s really what people say?” I was becoming more and more intrigued by the mysterious Ricardo and Nari.
“Yes, didn’t you see their video to go with ‘Schiava del Sesso in Catene’? It was about as raunchy as MTV would allow. In fact, some countries did ban it.”
“Dare I ask what schiava del sesso in catene translates to?”
She giggled as she swept a huge fluffy brush heavy with powder over my cheekbones. “Sex slave in chains. They had Tanya Berry—”
“The Tanya Berry?”
“Yes, the Tanya Berry…tied up in a dungeon. She was wrapped in chains, blindfolded and they teased her with a whip while they strutted around practically naked themselves.”
I frowned. “And they’re classical musicians, right?” I was struggling to get my head around the new concept that had gripped everyone’s imagination.
“Oh, yes. There’s no lyrics, just sexy music, suggestive titles and raunchy images to go with their performances. Some people are saying they’re introducing classical to the younger generations…and some say they are creating smut and using their good looks to demean fine concertos.”
“What do you think?”
“I think they’re great. I’d listen to their music all day, and after they’ve put those images in your head, that’s all you can think about when you next hear them play. It gets me all hot and bothered wherever I am.”
I pouted whilst Sarah applied ruby red lipstick that matched my underwear. When she’d finished, she stepped back and surveyed my face with a critical eye. “That’s you done,” she said. “Now, go enjoy. I know I would if I were you.”
Gulping down a bolt of apprehension, I quickly pulled a brush through my poker-straight, strawberry-blonde hair then followed her to the door. She pulled it open and we walked down a wood-panelled corridor. I was grateful for the warm spring day—too many times I’d had to do underwear shoots in cold conditions and it was impossible to control goosebumps.
“Ah, here you are,” Nancy said as we stepped into a large bedroom. It was painted entirely in white. Two floor-to-ceiling windows were lined with sun-dappled white tulle, which fluttered in the spring breeze. The white four-poster bed had matching snow-white drapes looped around its posts and also had white covers and pillows.
“Meet Nari and Ricardo.” Nancy nodded over my shoulder.
I turned…and looked up. I was tall, flirting with six feet, but Ricardo and Nari, were taller—considerably taller.
“Tiffany, enchanted to have you here today. I’m Nari.” The beautiful olive-skinned man before me held out his hand. I noticed that they were both barefooted and wore nothing but softly worn jeans, their broad chests bare apart from a sprinkling of black chest hair.
Taking Nari’s hand, I felt long, fine-boned fingers wrap around mine.
“You are every bit as beautiful in real life as in photographs,” he said, his Italian accent subtle and sexy.
I watched as he brought my knuckles to his mouth and pressed soft lips to my skin. He had carefully groomed stubble over his top lip and chin and it scratched my flesh, creating a tingle of sensation that zinged up my arm.
“Thank you.” I stared into his chocolate brown eyes. They were heart-stoppingly striking and burnt with sin—great big vats of deliciously bad sin. This man was sexy with a capital S. How had I not taken any notice of Ingresso Livello?
“This is Ricardo,” he said, releasing my hand.
I turned to Ricardo, who offered me a similar devastating smile with neat white teeth and wide, sensual lips. Super sexy offered up in yet another wonderful specimen of a man.
“Hi,” I said, a sudden feeling of shyness coming over me. It wasn’t often I was bothered by being studied so closely or by meeting beautiful people. That was the world I lived in. But there was something about these two musicians that had my heart tripping and my female hormones jumping to attention.
Ricardo took my hand, turned it over and lifted it to his face. He pressed a kiss to my palm, slowly and succulently, his black eyes, lined with heavy lashes, not leaving mine for a second. “Exquisite,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning over the delicate underside of my wrist. “And absolutely perfect for ‘Il Piacere de Tre’, don’t you think, Nari?”
“Oh, yes,” Nari said, his eyes dropping down my body. “More than perfect.”
My nipples tightened within the cups of my bra. The pianists’ double gaze was like a heated caress, lingering and hot, live flames licking over my skin.
“So I was thinking,” Nancy said, stepping up to the three of us. “That we would start with you guys staring out of the windows, one in each, the translucent tulle gently wafting around your silhouetted bodies. A dreamy, floaty, overexposed image.”
“Sounds good,” Ricardo said, pushing his hand through floppy jet-black hair. His was longer than Nari’s and looked softer. Nari’s was in a shorter, neater style, but the same shiny, coal-black.
“Then we’ll have Tiffany walk into the shot—best catwalk strut you can do, my dear. Walk right up to them, stop, then place a hand on each of their shoulders as if getting their attention. Make it slow, make it sexy… In fact, let’s get the song playing so you can time your walk to the intro.” She turned briefly to click her fingers at a young man with greasy hair scraped back into a ponytail. “And I want you to all just go with what feels right to start with, see where it takes us for the first few minutes.” She paused. “I’m sure you guys have some ideas.”
“Oh, yes,” Nari said, sweeping his tongue over his bottom lip and leaving a delicate sheen. “We have ple
nty of sexy ideas which I’m sure will suit the three of us quite well.”
I gulped. What on earth have I let myself in for? Of course I could launch into a supermodel tantrum and walk out. Throw my toys out of the pram, so to speak. But I didn’t want to. I was as captivated by these two devastatingly gorgeous Italians as they appeared to be with me. My heart was thudding and a quivering knot of desire was growing in the pit of my stomach, sending hot darts to my pussy. I wanted to stay and find out just what sexy ideas they had that would suit the three of us.
Nari and Ricardo moved over to the windows, the deeply tanned skin of their naked backs all the more startling in the white of the room. As they stepped into the piercing shards of sunlight, long shadows stretched out behind them. I watched them move. Both had a similar air of grace and control as they walked. Ricardo’s shoulders were slightly broader than Nari’s, the denim on Nari’s jeans hugged his cute butt just a little tighter than Ricardo’s. Mmm, it would be absolutely impossible to choose between them if one was forced to.
Nancy directed two cameras into position as the first tinkling, rising notes of Il Piacere de Tre filled the air. She turned to me. Pointed at Ricardo and Nari. “Walk,” she said. “Like you’re intent on taking what your body demands. These men are your lovers, your world, the only thing that can satisfy you.”
Should be easy enough to act, since my body was attracted to Nari and Ricardo the way giant magnets pull together. I stepped forward on the deeply piled white carpet, set back my shoulders and became aware of a camera close to my behind. I rolled my hips and swung my arms, the same way I did if thousands of people were watching. I was Tiffany O’Dell—if there was one thing I could do it was strut. My butt wiggled, the thong had settled deep in my cleft but I knew the pretty laced edge would be sitting just below the two perfect dimples in my lower back. I enjoyed showing off my butt and my back—they were great features.
I stepped into the spilling sunshine and came to a halt between the two sexy pianists. Lifting my hands, I then rested them down on the warm skin and hard muscles of their shoulders. Simultaneously they turned to me—slowly, deliberately. I looked between the two and couldn’t ignore the lust in their eyes. It didn’t look fake or put on for the camera. It looked real and dark and, quite honestly, downright dangerous.
The music picked up a notch, the notes became a little higher and a little faster. Nari took my chin in the cup of his palm and turned me to face him directly. Ricardo stepped in behind me, close—really close. Scratchy chest hairs prickled my shoulder blades, the heat of his skin burnt like a furnace.
There was a camera only a few feet from us and the breeze blew the curtain behind Nari like a gently ebbing wave.
Nari slid his fingertip across first my left cheekbone and then my right, all the while his eyes stared down at me with heated intensity. Ricardo pressed in more tightly behind me and his lips touched my bare shoulder. A shiver of awareness travelled through my body. His soft lips seemed to contain an electric current that was hotwired to my breasts and my pussy.
The curtain blew a little more, the breeze cooling my hot skin. Nari lowered his head, his lips brushing mine in the softest, most delicate of kisses. I fluttered closed my eyes and concentrated on his smell and his flavour—mulled wine floating with cinnamon sticks, rich chocolate praline dissolving on the tongue. The most delicious, intriguing flavour I’d tasted in months.
He pulled back and gazed down at me, but only for a second, because then Ricardo applied pressure to my shoulders and turned me to face him. I reached up and curled my hands around his wide biceps, absorbing the heat and texture of his perfectly smooth flesh. One side of his mouth tilted into a wicked smile as his chest touched my breasts.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my nipples instantly becoming hard, pinched points of desire. Ricardo smelt and felt just as good as Nari, maybe with an added hit of sandalwood in his scent. Sumptuous.
Nari’s nimble hands were in my hair, scooping it up then sliding the long silken strands through his fingers. Each tiny tug on the roots of my scalp heightened my awareness of the lean testosterone-saturated muscle surrounding me.
He pulled on my hair, causing my head to tilt to the ceiling. As it did, Ricardo stooped, his teeth grazing the cords of my neck. He nipped slightly then kissed the sore spot. I parted my mouth in a gasp. This acting business was a doddle when it felt this good.
“Excellent, excellent,” Nancy voice invaded my thoughts. “Perfect lighting in here, and great first take.”
Nari dropped my hair and stepped away from me. Instantly, I felt the loss of his body heat on my back and my butt. Ricardo, however, stayed close, allowing me to continue to cling to his arms, his chest still pressed to mine.
“Your skin reminds me of the sweetest summer’s day in Tuscany,” he whispered, his deep voice quiet and smooth, like silk through water. “And your eyes are the exact colour of the sky above my grandmother’s home in the mountains. I used to lie on my back as a child in the vineyard, look up at the endless, seamless blue and know I would see that perfect colour again one day.” He pressed his palms to my cheeks, held me still, and looked deep into my eyes. “And today I have finally found it.”
As if hypnotised by his smell, his heat and his voice, I gazed up at him. I had never seen eyes as black and deep and as intense as his…well, not since I’d last gazed into Dale’s, anyway. Quickly, I beat down a wave of regret for what could have been between me and Dale. His treacle-rich eyes were no longer there for me to gaze into first thing in the morning and last thing at night. That was the past and I had to accept it…or at least learn to live with the painful squeezing of my heart whenever I thought of a lifetime without him.
“People, get with it,” Nancy snapped impatiently. “Next shot. Nari, you had an idea about hands?”
“Yes,” Nari said, resting his large palm in the small of my back. “I think a shot of all four of our hands on Tiffany’s back and—” He slid his fingers on to the top rise of my butt. “—fingering her… What do you call it?”
“Thong,” I said.
“Er…yes, thong. That is it, thong.”
“Fabulous,” Nancy said. “Roll with it, action.”
Suddenly both Nari’s hands were on me, sliding down my back, once again scooping my hair out of the way. Ricardo squeezed even closer, also exploring the dips and clefts of my long spine with his flattened hands and elegant fingers.
The camera was near again, down at my hip, catching the action that was sure to be highlighted by the dazzling sunshine on the opposite side. My heart rate picked up as someone’s naughty finger dipped into the elastic and tugged slightly. Surely they don’t expect me to take them off. Rachel would never have agreed to that. I tightened my grip on Ricardo’s biceps.
“Shh,” Ricardo soothed, his warm breath washing over my cheek. “We want to touch you all over. You feel like heaven to us.”
Oh God, I do want them to touch me all over, but not with a camera rolling.
“Heaven, paradise and nirvana—all wrapped up in one sweet package,” Nari breathed into my ear. “Listen to the music, Tiffany. Feel our hands worshiping you, allow yourself to sway a little, move to the tune. Our tune of adoration.”
Squirming slightly under their light fingertip traces and delicate caresses, I soon found myself absorbing their lulling music into my skin. It became part of the touch, part of our embrace, filtering into my ears and settling in my chest and my pelvis. I was getting so turned on—so horny, so hot and feverish—an orgasm was all I could think about. But it was the last thing that could happen here and now.
Vaguely aware of the cameras around us, I tilted my head and allowed Ricardo to kiss down to the hollow of my throat and on to my sternum. I reached up and ran my fingers into his lustrously thick hair—held him a little closer, encouraging him on his way down my body. His barely audible groan filtered up and mixed with a high tinkling section of their composition. The approving groan—evidence that he was enjoying
this too, it wasn’t just me—served only to further weaken my already pathetically wobbly legs.
Meanwhile, Nari was exploring the centre of my back with his mouth and tongue. I twisted and saw he was kneeling behind me, dipping down to the same level as Ricardo.
The curtain blew over Ricardo’s body, though this time the breeze did nothing to cool my feverish flesh as they both headed lower still. Nari, I felt sure, was tugging at my thong with his teeth and Ricardo poked his tongue into my navel before slowly running it around the shallow indentation.
“Perfect, perfect,” Nancy cooed. “That’s the shot we want. Now, onto the bed.”
In a sudden flourish, I was swung into the air by Nari.
“Hey,” I said, scrabbling for purchase around his shoulders. “What are you doing?” I glanced at the camera crew and Nancy and Sarah, and it all flooded back to me where I was and what I was doing.
Nari grinned. “I don’t want to spoil the moment.” He dipped his head to my ear. “It seems we are orchestrating our manoeuvres perfectly.”
“I can walk,” I said, wriggling. “I’m just doing my job.” Who was I kidding? This was the best fun I’d had for three months. It was even better than the Westwood catwalk last week when Adele Bentley had fallen off the platform and bruised her cheek.
Nari laid me on the bed then sat at the end. “Nancy.” He looked over his shoulder. “Remember I told you about the foot thing.”
“Ahh, yes,” Nancy said and signalled for the camera to come to the base of the bed. “Pan around,” she instructed the operator. “A shot of Tiffany lying down first.” She frowned at me. “Arms up, dear. Look wanton and satisfied…you’re in heaven being adored by these two magnificent beasts.”
I quickly did as she asked, stretched my arms above my head and curled my fingers into the slats of the headboard. I twisted my torso, elongating my narrow waist and showing off my slender hips. Sarah rushed over, quickly added a touch of powder to my nose, then stepped away.