Exotika 03 - On the Loose

by Tesni Morgan

  “David, David.” She whispered his name, increasing the rapidity so that the water flicked over her nubbin like a hundred pointed tongues or rather one tongue—his!

  She bucked and jerked as she was swept into an orgasm that left her gasping. Then she reached out and rested a hand against the cool tiles while her heart slowed and her knees stopped shaking, the sweet aroma of her juices mingling with the soapy fluid that washed over her.

  In a relaxed, dreamy mood she chose her dress, a simple slip in floral-patterned silk, mauve and black. It was transparent, apart from the velvet flowers, but lined so that her modesty was preserved. Though fueling her fantasy by thinking of him, the last thing she wanted was to have David know that she played with herself. She became hot all over at the thought of him finding out, maybe even watching her covertly. This was an old, old house. Could it be that there were secret passages and spyholes where a Peeping Tom could get his kicks? The idea petrified yet thrilled her, and she sat at the dressing table nervously, goose bumps rising as she imagined herself to be the subject of hidden eyes.

  Larry had styled her hair before she left, and it was layered, making it look thicker. He had put in gold streaks, ignoring her protestations, and she had to admit that the effect was impressive. Her skin was tanned and he had shown her how to use shimmering foundation, frosted eye shadow and lash-thickening mascara. Her lips were outlined with gloss, making them look fuller and more luscious, inviting heated kisses.

  “Let your breasts and shoulders glisten, darling,” he had advised, teaching her how to run her fingers through her deliberately tangled locks, lifting them and adding body with a fixing spray. “Thighs as well, if you’re going to show them, and you won’t be my girl if you don’t. Get him going, whoever he is, and I guess there’s a he in it somewhere. You want your life to be full-on? Then go for it, darling. Give him what he wants.”

  Sound advice from an expert, she thought, looking in the mirror at this new image of Carenza Hewitt. It was high time she changed. One never got anywhere by being shy and self-effacing. She had decided on stockings so fine and black that they resembled smoke as she rolled them carefully up her legs. She wasn’t used to them, normally one for socks or tights or trousers, but they made her legs look truly amazing, long and slim and molded with inviting hollows. Her little black court shoes finished it off.

  “Ready?” Vicky came barreling in, uniquely attired in an almost dress, that didn’t quite cover her essentials parts and yet didn’t expose them too much—well, only a brief, passing glimpse.

  Joanna scintillated in sequins, her dress exotic in design, like a dancer in a sultan’s harem. “What a gas!” She pirouetted so that her veils undulated around her. “Baldy won’t stand a chance.”

  “Remember what we learned at that weekend of tantric dancing and fucking and meditation. We were taught to be goddesses, remember?” Vicky was leaning toward a mirror, adding yet another layer of mascara.

  “How could I forget?” sighed Joanna. “The guys were something else! What was it they said? ‘Celebrate the feminine spirit within yourself. Celebrate the masculine spirit within yourself. Cherish all the elements that make you who you are.’”

  “That’s it! And we do. So should you, Carenza. Now, come on. Head held high and go get ‘em!”

  Chapter Six

  If I were a lady, a real lady, that is, I’d dine in such magnificent surroundings every night of my life, Carenza mused as she floated down the stairs into the baronial hall. Everyone was gathered there, some in evening dress, others informal, though most of the men had managed to get a suit and tie together. They were almost unrecognizable out of their casual gear, and this gave a sense of occasion.

  She glanced around. Ah, there was David, looking every bit the lord of the manor in a midnight blue velvet tuxedo and a white Byronic shirt, the neck open over his darkly furred chest and frilled cuffs falling over his wrists. Trust him! she thought, but her bottom clenched at the sight and it was as if she hadn’t had an orgasm for months, let alone an hour or so ago.

  The fly in the ointment was Laurette, behaving as if she was the lord’s lady. Such a formal occasion needed someone like her around to make the crew feel at ease. The waiters kept the drinks coming and the people who worked for David on set—lighting, carpentry, electricians, professionals and general odd-jobbers, were glad enough to down his booze and eat his food. David knew how to play them. He may be pernickety, but they had no complaints concerning their pay.

  Heads turned toward the stairs and Carenza straightened her spine, aware of a surge of power as she descended. This was a first for her. Already she could feel a dramatic change. She was like a chrysalis transforming into a butterfly. Laurette shot her a barbed glance, then deliberately turned her back. She wouldn’t tolerate rivals.

  This was the pre-prandial happy hour, when they stood around, waiting the dinner gong. They talked shop, mostly, and there were more men than girls, though research, continuity and makeup were represented. Carenza nodded to a few of them. Vicky and Joanna soon made their presence felt and she kept close on their heels, aping their nonchalance and chatting vivaciously. The waiters circulated with trays of drinks, and Vicky made impudent asides about their sexy butts.

  When the gong boomed, the crowd moved toward the dining room. At that moment, there was a commotion in the vestibule. It was a late arrival. Carenza’s heart did a flip as Matt strode in. David greeted him, hand outstretched. A short, stocky, bearded character accompanied Matt. In contrast to the others, they were both scruffy, in none-too-clean jeans, vests and hiking boots.

  “You made it.”

  “Sorry about the gear, but we’ve just come off site. Anyway, I don’t own a monkey jacket.” Matt succeeded in making everyone else look overdressed. “This is Clem, my backup. What I don’t do, he does.”

  Clem grunted and flexed his hand before extending it to David. He was swarthy and ugly-handsome, with a broken nose and was the sort that women go for and men suspect. His grin was infectious and he looked as if he didn’t give a tinker’s cuss for anyone.

  Damn, Carenza swore, conscious of the turmoil within her, that melting, desirous sensation that she didn’t want to associate with Matt. He wasn’t her type. Definitely not! So why was it that the room lit up as he stalked toward her, Clem in tow?

  “So you’re part of this shebang?” He eyed the guests as he towered over her. She was all too conscious of his height. The top of her head barely reached the pit of his throat.

  “It’s my job. And how is the camp coming along?” She had to talk about something, anything, just so that she didn’t lose the plot completely. Her mouth was dry, but her pussy was wet, as if it remembered how he had handled it while she was stretched over the motorcycle.

  “No prob. Trouble will commence when you all get there,” he commented laconically. “Meet Clem. If I’m not around any time, call on him.”

  “Do that, baby.” Clem beamed, showing even teeth.

  “Dinner is served,” the butler announced.

  The seating had been arranged in the usual order, alternating the genders the length of the mahogany table. David was at the head, with Max Reinhart, the owner of Cougar Ranger on his right and Mrs. Reinhart on his left. Diplomacy had dictated that he invited the influential couple, but it was an inspired guess that had made him place Laurette on Max’s other side. She needed no briefing, knowing precisely what to do, her stilt-heeled sandal already rubbing against the older man’s foot, concealed by the sparkling white damask cloth.

  Carenza was disappointed and yet common sense told her that David couldn’t have her sitting by him, even if he wanted. She found herself partnered by Matt, embarrassingly aware of his rangy form lounging beside her, his thigh close to hers under the table. What on earth was she to converse about? She’d never been one for small talk anyway.

  “Got sensible walking shoes with you?” He gave her a straight stare, though a smile lifted his lips as if he was remembering the intimacy
that had taken place between them.

  “Yes.” A waiter leaned across her shoulder and, at her nod, filled her glass with Chardonnay.

  “That’s okay, then.” Matt grinned at Clem who was wedged between Ruth and Vicky, amusing himself by chatting up the disconcerted secretary.

  This was the sum total of their conversation. Carenza wasn’t in a state of mind conducive to savoring the meal. Perfect it must have been, if the comments of the others were anything to go by, but she had so much on her mind that it might have been sawdust. She drank too much, and became obsessed with what David was doing, shrinking as far away from Matt as possible. He ate steadily and watched the others, with the calm contemplation of someone plugged into a personal headset. It was more than just irritating, and yet she didn’t want to talk to him.

  Course followed course, finishing with coffee and brandy, then David stood up and tapped on his glass for silence. “You all know why you’re here, or if you don’t you should,” he began, pausing until the laughter faded. Then, “We’re honored to have Mr. Reinhart as our guest. He’s the power behind Cougar, and we’re going to give him an advertising campaign second to none. In a short time, everyone will be talking about the show. It has yet to be named, so if you have any bright ideas, let Ruth know.” And he nodded in her direction.

  He’s like a god, Carenza thought tipsily. He has everyone eating out of his hand.

  “Gift of the gab,” said a voice in her ear, and she turned quickly to find Matt smiling at her.

  She was immediately on the defensive. “More than that. He’s a very clever man.”

  “Oops! So he is, to be sure,” he quipped, and laid one of his big, calloused hands on the table next to hers. To her horror, she wanted her own small paw to be engulfed in his large one.

  She changed the subject from David. “You’ve been here before?”

  “To Tretowyn? Yep! Did a survey of the place when David bought it. It’s very interesting. Lots of creepy corners…attics, locked rooms, secret passages and a family graveyard with tombs. Make sure you wear some garlic when you go to bed tonight.”

  “Now you’re being silly.” But somehow she wished he would be lying across her doorway like a great mastiff, keeping guard or, better still, sleeping with her. “Are you staying here?”

  “Just for the night. We’re up at six and off to camp, and that means everyone. Make the most of a soft bed.” He accompanied her as they left the table and strolled into the conservatory, an exotic place full of palms and water features and trickle fountains.

  Carenza wasn’t quite sure how this came about, but was glad of cool air even though it was heavily perfumed by tropical flowers of great size and lurid colors. She leaned against a stone bench near the open patio door, and looked out on the garden, full of the rustle of night-prowling creatures. Bats swooped low, skittering over the ruined tower that was all that was left of the original castle. It was a perfect setting for romance. The trouble was, Matt was the wrong man. It was David she wanted, wasn’t it? Although if she’d met Matt first, might it have been a different story?

  He had seated himself at one of the wicker tables, booted feet propped up on a spare chair. This position pushed his fly area into prominence. He had a cheroot between his lips, the fragrant smoke coiling upward. This surprised her.

  “I imagined you to be a health freak.” She was very edgy. “Didn’t think you’d smoke.”

  “Occasionally.” His lips curved into a taunting smile. “And then only Havana’s finest. Nothing in excess, as the Greeks put it.”

  His eyes narrowed as he studied her. There were flames, like little jets of amber, in the depths of his pupils. It was a look that drained her of strength and made her clitoris throb. She was racked with embarrassment, desire and a sudden stab of fear.

  “Why did you come tonight? I wouldn’t have thought it was your thing?” She was trying hard to hide her emotions.

  “Rude to presume to know what my thing is, on so short an acquaintance.”

  “And equally rude of you to stare at me like that.”

  He took another drag at the cheroot, drawing in the smoke and then blowing it down his nose like a fiery dragon. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he continued to scrutinize her, and it seemed that he had stripped off her dress, baring her to his gaze. Her breasts lifted involuntarily beneath the thin fabric and her nipples crimped.

  “If you go out in public like that, then you’re asking for it. If you don’t want to be looked at, I suggest you wear more clothes.”

  “It’s nothing to do with you.” She stood her ground and refused to run, though every instinct was urging flight. He hadn’t moved, yet it seemed as if he had come much closer.

  “You can thank your lucky stars that it isn’t.” He sounded calm, but his glare frightened her. “If you were mine, Miss Hewitt, no one would ever see your body but me.”

  “Just as well I’m not, and never shall be. We’re in the twenty-first century, not the dark ages. I suppose you’d be having me wear a chastity belt.”

  He chuckled wickedly. “I reckon that wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

  This was definitely getting out of hand. He’s got a bloody nerve! And I’m condemned to spend time with him in the Welsh mountains! I wish I hadn’t come.

  He swung his feet to the ground and stood up in one agile movement, stub crushed out in the ashtray. He strode over to her, trapping her, pressing her against the bench. She could smell him, the tang of sweat, the scent of his long hair. His face was serious, his eyes brooding. He reached out a finger, and a tingle ran down her spine and landed in her cunt as he gently traced over her face, her neck and then the tip of each breast, moving lightly from one to the other.

  Carenza gasped, shuddered and couldn’t stop her hips lifting to meet his cock. It was hot and hard, distorting the front of his Levi’s. He leaned down and his mouth captured hers. She tried to turn her face to one side, but was prevented—not by him—but by her own wayward curiosity. She wanted to find out if he was as good at kissing as she recalled. He was. His firm lips were closed at first, but then they wooed her into submission and her own parted as he wetted them with his tongue.

  She was lost in a world of taste, touch, feel. His hands on her breasts, his beautiful mouth and the hint of tobacco on his saliva. This was a real man, and she wanted more. He might be crude, outspoken, bossy—in fact, very far from a gentleman—but she yearned to have him possess her, driving into her, taking no refusal, branding her as his. He kept his mouth on hers and his hand descended toward her mound, so thinly covered by the devoré. She parted her thighs and he drew the fabric tight, pressing it into her sex.

  He took his lips away, muttering, “I wanted to kiss you the first time I saw you in the club.”

  “You didn’t show it. But I’ll tell you this for free…I’ll never be another notch on your bedpost.”

  She felt rather than heard his chuckle. “Honey, I wouldn’t do that, but I do want to make love to you.”

  “In your dreams.” But her response belied her words. His fingers were stroking the tight fabric drawn over her clit and the sensation was bewitching. David no longer mattered, nothing did. She was blind to all except the longing for Matt to continue that tantalizing touch.

  “You like that, don’t you, girl? We nearly fucked the other night, but you weren’t giving me your full attention. It was me who backed off. Now I want to take a shower with you, rub you all over with baby oil and then show you all I know about lovemaking. I wouldn’t disappoint you. I’d attend to your little button, lick it, suck it and bring you to heaven over and over, making you come until you screamed for mercy. You could do the same for me. What d’you say? Are you up for it?”

  Before Carenza had time to take in this proposal, someone moved at the conservatory entrance and Vicky appeared, halting as she took in the scene. “David is looking for you, Carenza.”

  “Sod it!” Matt’s hand moved from her crotch. “We’re always in the wrong place at t
he wrong time.”

  “But you left me in my garden.”

  “And I’ve told you why. You were thinking about him and still are.”

  “Okay, Vicky.” Carenza was shaking. “I’m coming.” An unfortunate choice of words, for she very nearly was!

  “Are you all right? Is he bothering you?” Vicky stood arms akimbo as she glared at Matt.

  “No…no.” Carenza fell to earth with a bang. What was she doing in Matt’s arms? Had she taken leave of her senses? She hadn’t realized she was that drunk.

  “Better get going. Mustn’t keep the boss waiting.” His sarcasm was cutting.

  She jerked away from him. “You! You’re a pig! I can’t think why David employs you!”

  “Because I’m the best around.” He stood with his thumbs hooked in his belt as he regarded the two women. “And you’d better get used to it. I shall be with you day in, day out and you’ll do as I say. I’m in charge. Get it?”

  “You may find you’ve bitten off more than you can chew!” Carenza marched off with her nose in the air.

  “What was all that about?” Vicky looked puzzled.

  “Nothing.”

  “It didn’t seem like nothing. I’d say he was just about to put it in.”

  “No chance. Now, where’s David?” Carenza abruptly silenced her.

  * * * * *

  “What’s up?” Clem strolled out from the French doors, taking a cigarette from behind one ear and lighting it.

  “Bloody women!” Matt retorted, resting his hands on the stone balustrade and staring into the darkness that loomed thick behind the fairy lights.

  “Is that all?” Clem lowered himself into a chair and drew the smoke back into his lungs. “The Almighty made them so as we’d have a bad time, a kind of punishment, I guess. Look at the Garden of Eden.”

  Matt couldn’t work out what was wrong with him, finding this infuriating, for he was always in control of himself as well as others. When he’d first seen Carenza in the nightclub, he’d recognized her as special. It wasn’t simply that she was beautiful. He’d seen many beautiful women in his time and enjoyed a number of them. Finding an outlet for his considerable sex drive had never been a problem, but Carenza was different. It was said that everyone on Earth had a soul mate. Ridiculous though it sounded, he had felt that he’d found this in her.