Prologue
I hate it when he puts his hand on the back of my neck. Usually it means the person I am with doesn’t want me to stop. With my boyfriend Jack, it means he has had enough.
“Don’t overdo it, Keren. Too much of a good thing, eh?”
I pull off him, wanting just once to feel his sticky jizz cascade down over my face and breasts. It has been far too long since that happened. I also wish he would go down on me — I love oral sex — but the admittedly handsome lad who is my latest squeeze thinks it is dirty and demeaning.
He fumbles the condom on as usual — I don’t even get the pleasure myself. I am barely wet and it hurts. Luckily for me it is over in a flash and the thing I wanted to spray all over me is safely contained in its latex wrapping.
Another fumble to get it off, a quick kiss on the cheek and he is asleep within seconds. At least he doesn’t tell me how good it was. As ever, I wipe one out through gritted teeth. It isn’t earth shattering but it is the best I am going to get.
Not for the first time this summer, I silently cry myself to sleep. Another long day of waitressing lies ahead tomorrow, followed by more passionless sex that can barely be described as ‘vanilla’.
Not for the first time this summer, I think, ‘There has to be more than this.’
I wake the next morning to the same thought.
‘There has to be something more than this.’
I ask the same thing each night and each morning.
But it never gets any better.
One
The end of the summer season was always hell. Things were busy before, but the last few weeks seemed utterly manic as people without kids took advantage of the schools going back and flocked to the area for some late summer sun.
Then there would be a couple of weeks to recuperate and catch our breath before two months of nothing leading up to the festive season. Then all hell would break loose again.
I worked as a waitress in a reasonably upmarket Cornish hotel. I had a degree in modern languages, but no-one seemed interested in giving me a decent, meaningful job so aged twenty-three, I was stuck living at home, doing long shifts and earning a smidge over the minimum wage. I hated living at home — my step-father was a drunken ne’er-do-well and my mother was downtrodden and in his thrall. My friend Tasha and I had briefly lived together in a small flat, but we couldn’t afford the rent, so reluctantly went back to our respective private hells.
Factor in my boyfriend Jack, and it was the perfect storm.
One night, after the madness of the end of season had died down, Tasha and I were sitting in a Newquay curry house, drinking Kingfisher and scoffing lamb pasanda and keema naan. Feeling low, I trotted out my twice-daily mantra to her.
“There has to be something more than this, Tash.”
She shook her shaggy blonde mane. “Not sure there is, Keren. Not for us, anyway. You’ve got an idiot boyfriend who barely knows what it’s for and I’m single again.”
“Thought you and that guy Kieran were all loved up.”
“We were, but he buggered off back to Liverpool. They let him go at the arse-end of the season. Nice bloke, but I couldn’t understand a word he said.”
I laughed. “And that’s a problem because?”
Then Tasha had her moment of genius. “Tell ya what, let’s take off down the south of France until the Christmas season. A few weeks of all the sun, sand and sex two hard-working Cornish lasses richly deserve!”
I thought she was serious, but she was only joking.
I wasn’t joking when I said it was a great idea and ten days later we flew into Nice on a cheap flight in an orange aeroplane, headed east along the coast and settled into a basic but liveable AirBnB.
For three weeks, we got plenty of the ‘Three S’s,’ as we had come to know them. We strolled around town and along the seafront pretending we were sophisticated ladies ogling handsome Frenchmen, then dined on pizza and burgers and drank wine at the cheaper end of the spectrum. In that time, Tasha had five different partners, I had six. I was always the greedy one and after all, I was making up for my lost time with Jack. It was great to feel a cock go off in my hand again after so long and I had almost forgotten how addicted I was to the feel of cum on my skin.
One night, Tasha and I even swapped our partners, though we did it by sneaking into each other’s room in darkness and giving the guys a nice little surprise. My one regret was beach sex. I had never had the courage in Cornwall, despite the numerous opportunities, but here it felt different. However I soon found out that sand and seawater have a particularly abrasive effect on delicate parts of the anatomy and was subsequently out of action for a few days.
During week four, Tasha began to worry about her limited finances and spent almost as much time checking her dwindling bank balance and the cost of flights home as she did on her back, which was saying something. It soon became apparent that ten weeks was insanely optimistic and it was going to be five at a push. We would probably have to walk to the airport and pay for the flights on credit cards – or more likely hitchhike home.
At the start of week five, we knew we were a busted flush and decided to go out in style in a restaurant in an upmarket hotel that was probably too expensive for us, but we didn’t care. Whilst our diet had thus far been mainly restricted to things that had lots of toppings or came in a bun, we did know our food. It was only money — or the lack thereof – that kept us from dining in slightly better style. The hotel restaurant back home was well regarded for food and was decorated with numerous rosettes and awards. As waitresses we were given samples of the dishes so we could inform the discerning diners with some sort of authority, so we had expensive tastes but just couldn’t afford them.
We dined on moules mariniere, Chateaubriand and enough Tarte Tatin to sink a battleship. The Chablis was lovely but just about broke the bank. We left sated, with the intention of finding a nightclub, dancing into the early hours and getting laid.
As we left the restaurant, Tasha saw a laminated notice on the window saying they required waiting and bar staff urgently. Experience was necessary, fluent French an essential and other European languages an advantage.
She pointed at the sign. “Fucking no-brainer, Keren!”
I had to agree with her and instead of heading on the pull, we ran back to our digs to e-mail home and ask our folks to send our CVs across forthwith.
We were both fluent in French and passable in Italian and Spanish. And of course, we spoke English — albeit in a strange Cornish accent — but in these parts, it qualified as a European language. We had the necessary experience, an essential language and three other advantageous ones. I could also say a few words in German thanks to a brief fling with a holidaymaker from Munich when I was nineteen, so if ‘fick mich’ and ‘lech mich’ were required, I was the go-to girl.
Our CVs were with us the next morning and we found a computer shop to print them off for a small cost.
We had identical experience and language skills. I got a job offer, Tasha never even got an interview. I said I would turn down the offer and she wagged a finger in my face.
“Don’t you bloody dare, Keren Green. Take the job, give it big ones and have a load of fun and I’ll see you for Christmas.”
I saw her off at the airport and made my way back into town to take up my new post.
I never got back for Christmas and it was a long time before I saw her again.
Two
The work was familiar even if the hotel was a little more genteel than I was used to. That was no bad thing. When stag- or hen-do’s get out of hand it gets messy and this wasn’t the sort of place for that. My new colleagues were friendly and welcoming and I was the sixth nationality on the roster. I was soon well-versed in the little quirks that made the place stand out from my previous places of employment. I enjoyed doing the same old job but in nicer surroundings and in a foreign language in which I was reasonably fluent to start with but was now speaking like a native.
Staff accommodation was in a converted stable block away from the main building, behind a bank of trees. We shared and my roomie was a bubbly, friendly Ukrainian girl a couple of years younger than me named Danica Antonova. We immediately hit it off, which was a relief given the slightly cramped conditions and I took to her husky Eastern European accent and her almost flawless English. She even had a decent attempt at mimicking my Cornish accent, though I struggled with hers.
On our occasional mutual days off we spent days out together in town and she was great fun to be with and helped me settle in quite nicely.
However, my horizontal activity had ceased in the few weeks since Tasha headed home and a shared room was not exactly conducive to bringing people back, even though our shifts were often polar opposites. I had a few potential candidates in mind and wondered if Robert the cocktail waiter would be able to shake me as well as he did a Margarita.
I got my chance to find out when Danica was on night duty and I finished at ten in the evening. I waited for Robert to finish cleaning his station and engaged him on the way back to the staff quarters. He liked to speak English with me to practice and we chatted amiably on the way. His room was on the upper floor and we had to pass my room to get there. As we reached the door, I invited him in for a coffee.
He gave me a hopeful glance. “Maybe a little late for coffee, Keren. I may not get to sleep.”
I opened the door and dragged him inside by the arm. “Exactly the plan, Robert but I don’t mind — means we get to fuck all the quicker.”
It was great to be back in the saddle, even after a short break and he certainly gave me a good shaking. So much so, we did it again the next week when shifts permitted.
Our first time had been somewhat frantic, so I decided to take it a little slower and treat him to my almost forgotten oral skills. I had just got into my work when the room door opened and a small figure was silhouetted in the doorway.
A hand flew to her mouth, her sparkling blue eyes wider than usual. “Oops, sorry Keren. They changed my shift!”
If I expected her to close the door, I was disappointed. I lay with my mouth open, hovering over Robert’s erection, not knowing what to say or do. She broke the tension by taking a step into the room and peering over my shoulder.
“Ooh, hello Robert. Wondered who the lucky guy was. Got room for a little one?”
His fingers were stroking me gently but I was barely aware of them and barely heard his whispered, “Oh oui, Mon Dieu!”
I stared at her in horror and amazement as she calmly divested herself of her uniform and smiling benignly, threw her little cap onto her bed. She stepped out of her panties and knelt down beside me, giving me one of her best smiles. They usually lit up the day but at that moment it was the last thing I wanted to see.
She pointed to the erection in my hand. “May I?”
In shock, I held it towards her. “Erm, yeah — knock yourself out, Danica!”
To say she went at it with feral abandon was an understatement. Despite my shock, I registered that she was extremely accomplished and her innocent look was just that — a look. The girl could give head and Robert’s moans attested to her skills as she took him all the way, something I struggled to do. Her bare arm rubbed against mine as she worked and I moved away a little, disturbed at her proximity. She was oblivious as first a thigh, then her shoulder again made contact with me as I was pinned between her and the bedside table. After a couple of minutes of frantic action, she pulled off and held him up to me once more with a little nod.
As I went back down, I suppressed a little shudder as I realised I was sucking up her thick, gooey saliva. My stomach turned over as I tried to match her throating achievement and I pulled off him, gagging. Thinking I was done, she went back to her task at the same time as I did. We both flicked our tongues out at the same time and inevitably there was a brief coming together. We rocked back, staring at each other with wide eyes, mumbling apologies.
There was a moment of confusion as we both indicated to each other to continue on the hapless Robert and this time when we both ducked down in unison, there was a real coming together. My attempt to take his glans in my mouth coincided with hers and we met in an inadvertent wet kiss that had Robert moaning in ecstasy and me recoiling once more in horror. Her hair had brushed my face and our lips and tongues had met.
We both said, “Sorry” at the same time. To cover our embarrassment, she indicated for me to get on board.
“You were here first…”
Relieved, I picked up the condom from the bed and rolled it down on his erection. I straddled it as Danica held him up for me and sank down hoping she would back off and leave me to it for a while. Then I hit her small hand on the way down and stopped dead. “Erm, Danica…”
“Ooh sorry! Just trying to help!”
Her hand seemed to take an age to unravel from Robert’s shaft and her fingers lingered far longer than I liked against my wet folds. At last she moved away and I sank down with a long, satisfied sigh. I tried to put her out of my mind as I warmed to my task again and Robert responded by thrusting up off the bed as he had done the first time.
I froze in sheer horror as small hands gripped my hips and slid up over my ribs before gently squeezing my breasts. I hissed her name through gritted teeth and she let go, her head bowed, trapping her hands under her armpits as though trying to stop them from roaming.
“Sorry, Keren. It felt… nice.”
I took a deep breath. “Maybe for you. Look Danica you can have your turn in a minute. Why not sit on your bed like a good girl until I’ve had a nice ride, eh?”
She nodded nervously and sat down behind me. I resumed my grinding with diminished enthusiasm, now feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
Barely thirty seconds later, she did it again, except this time, she put her head on my shoulder. Her hands squeezed gently once more and I felt her hot breath on my neck and in my ear. I was about to elbow her in the chest when she whispered to me, almost in desperation.
“Please don’t make me stop, Keren. It feels so good. I’ve never done this before. I don’t want to stop. I want you to do it to me too.” She gently tweaked my nipples between her fingers and thumbs. “Please let me convince you!”
Despite the situation, I almost laughed as Robert moaned below me. “I am not wanting stop either! Deux jolies filles! Oh mon Dieu, ne t’arrete pas!”
I shivered for a moment then forced myself to admit that her tiny hands felt good against my breasts and when she tweaked my nipples, a little electric shock had run all the way down to my nether regions. Her body was soft and warm as she held me and the smell of her newly-washed hair and musky perfume assailed my senses.
Decision made, I looked at the digital bedroom clock. It had just ticked over to 22:27. “Ok, Danica — you have until 22:30 to convince me. If I then tell you to stop, please stop.”
At 22:35, Danica Antonova straddled Robert’s face and I took her in my arms for the softest, gentlest kiss imaginable. It felt like a butterfly’s breath and I was so glad I had not told her to stop.
She took my face in her hands. “Thank you, Keren. Does it feel good now?”
I kissed her on her cute little snub nose and grinned. “Not sure. Let’s do it a bit longer — in the interests of science, you understand. Would you care to swap places?”
“Keren – can I… can I lick you while Robert takes me from behind?”
Robert and Danica’s moans of delight as he sank into her was matched by mine as a tiny, shaggy-haired blonde girl lapped at me with a long, flexible tongue. Her hair was so soft against my thighs, her fingers so gentle on my labia and clit. It was all too much for Robert. Given the circumstances, he had lasted well and apologised to Danica as he shot his load into her as she bucked back against his insistent thrusts before being rammed back hard against me.
He pulled out and Danica slid up my body for a sticky, wet kiss. I tasted myself on her lips then went down on her for my first taste of another girl. From the first moment I lapped at her slippery wetness, I knew it would not be my last.
We came in unison, mouths clamped together, fingers darting down below while Robert watched on in sheer astonishment.
Later, when he was gone, we lay in each other’s arms. She touched my face. “Thank you for letting me go on. I’ve wanted to do that for so long but never had the opportunity. You’re so pretty, Keren. It was wonderful and I don’t want it to be a one-time thing.”
I held her to me. “I’m glad I did, Danica. It was wonderful for me too, and you are so lovely. I think tonight has been a bit of a revelation.”
We kissed for a long time. When we parted, she gave me a shy little smile. “My friends call me Danni. I’d like it if you called me that.”
I thought for a moment. “My schoolfriends had a nickname for me and I quite liked it. You can call me Greenie if you like.”
Her big eyes glazed over as she stroked my face. “Hello, Greenie!”
A little shiver went through me as I reciprocated. “Hello, Danni. Shall we do it again?”
Over the next few weeks, we did it again and again and it just got better and better. I had never even thought about doing it with another girl and when she came on to me, I was appalled. Then I realised just how good it felt and went with it. Thereafter we were barely parted and each night I was on duty with Robert, he would watch me like a little puppy-dog in the hope that I would whisper two words to him.
“Ce soir.”
We still had the odd night with him alone when our shifts clashed and the threesomes got better as we got more used to the dynamic, but I relished the time we spent together more. Two girls getting to know each other and the joys of Sapphic sex from watching things on the internet and copying what we saw. We soon outgrew our little travelling comforters and began to order more robust forms of female entertainment from discreet sites. Within a month, our favourite pastime was scissoring with a magic wand clamped between us. If Robert was there to suck on while we did it, all the better.
I never got home at Christmas and I apologised to Tasha. She was not too bothered — she had landed herself a plumb job at a ‘restaurant with rooms’ on Dartmoor in Devon and boasted that it had a Michelin star. She was the assistant manageress and had a new boyfriend — the junior sommelier.
She laughed down the phone line. “Seems weird, Keren, don’t it? Off we go down to France and I come home and you stay. I fall for a Frenchman on me own doorstep and you end up with a girl from bloody Russia or somewhere!”
Although I loved Cornwall, surfing on the Cote d’Azur on Boxing Day just about edged a cold dip at Newquay. The festive season was much nicer in France and it rekindled my enthusiasm after the soulless, commercialised circus it had become back home.
As the New Year was upon us, Danica and I were inseparable, but I detected an undercurrent. Something was not quite right and she was not her usual, bubbly self. I let it ride and didn’t want to press her, so put it on the back burner.
Then one night, as I lay waiting for her to return, the room door opened and I heard muffled giggling and shushing noises. She was up to something. She sat on the bed and took my hand, her face illuminated by soft moonlight.
“Hey, Greenie — got a little present for you.”
“Ooh, I like pressies. Watcha got?”
In answer, she wrapped my fingers around an erect penis.
“Bonsoir, Keren. Ca va?”
“Bonsoir, Robert. Je vais bien, merci.” I was just about to go down on him when Danica repeated her words from a few seconds earlier.
“Hey, Greenie — got a little present for you.”
I now found myself holding an erect penis in both hands and my heart began to pound.
The lights went on to reveal a naked Danica, bouncing on the spot, her cute little titties jiggling. “Surprise!”
The fourth member was a slightly older staff member, Alain who I had heard had just split from his wife. None of us were really fit for our next shift as Danica and I took delight in guiding them into our willing holes and I had the inestimable pleasure of watching her being spit-roasted before I suffered the same fate.
It was the night of my life as myself and a girl I thought I might be falling in love with embarked on another voyage of discovery together. We had always used condoms with Robert and tonight was no exception, but this time we removed them before the coup de grace and let them come on our breasts. I ran my fingers through the mess on Danica’s left titty and held it up to her. She did the same to me and we enjoyed our first ever cum-kiss, watched on by two incredulous co-workers who could barely believe their luck.
I was truly on Cloud Nine. I had come to France hoping to get laid by some nice hunky guys and ended up being brought to my knees by a twenty-year old girl from Odessa on the Black Sea.
The next night, she pricked my bubble with a vengeance and I came crashing back to earth with a painful bump. I knew something was wrong from the moment she came back from her shift. She was quiet with me and seemed irritable. When I asked her what was wrong she burst into floods of tears. The night with the guys had been her leaving present to me. She had a new job and was off to an exclusive resort along the coast. We only had two days left together.
I was utterly stunned and now knew how Tasha must have felt when I got the job and she didn’t. Danica said she had applied to them before we met and they had said there were no vacancies but they would keep her application on file and get back to her if anything arose. She almost forgot about it until they contacted her out of the blue. She never told me as she never expected to be selected.
The resort, Sur la Mer, was an island bolt-hole for the rich and famous some fifty kilometres away, close to Monaco and the Italian border. It had a reputation of being one of the best and most prestigious resorts in Europe.
The next four months were sheer purgatory. I missed my little blonde bombshell so much and I was shocked as to how empty I felt. We kept in touch via social media but our meetings were so rare they seemed to pass in an instant. Our shifts conspired against us and every meeting, somewhere halfway between our workplaces, began with a fevered and undignified clinch in the ladies’ toilets at the station as we devoured each other and headed to our lunch spot with sticky, wet fingers.
As summer approached, I was seriously thinking of returning home. It was almost better to be denied access to her rather than the fleeting, stolen moments followed by weeks of emptiness.
One April morning, as I perused the EasyJet flight schedule, intent on ending my torture, Danica called me. “Hey Greenie, fancy a day out in sleazy old Monte Carlo next week?”
Did I ever? I was ordered to wear something nice as she had booked us a special lunch. The train ride was spectacular and I was glad I had decided not to go back home. She met me off the train and we must have garnered a few telling looks at our embrace, but if we did, we were oblivious. I dragged her towards the ladies, but she stopped me.
“No, not today lovely Greenie. Gotta wait. Got a surprise for you!”
She took my hand with a gamine grin on her face and swept me out of the station. When she held up a hand, I thought she was about to summon a taxi, but a deep blue van pulled up, emblazoned with the logo of the place where she now worked.
Sur la Mer.
I hugged her. “Ooh, going to take me on a tour?”
She put her hands on my shoulders, suddenly serious. “No babe. I hope I am going to get you a new job. I’ve got you an interview.” She bit her lip, biting back a tear. “C’mon Greenie, knock ’em dead. I want you back, babe. Miss you so much.”
For once in my life, I was utterly speechless. I held her so close I thought she would suffocate. I managed some sort of thanks and sat in stunned silence as we drove along the coast road towards the island paradise she now called home.
I knew the instant I saw the place that if I didn’t get the job, I would be utterly devastated and would definitely head home. The place was idyllic, a hundred metres out in the Mediterranean, reached from the mainland by a causeway. At high tide, launches ferried staff and guests across the bay and there was a small dock and a helipad. The main hotel and restaurant area was in a faux chateau, the centrepiece of the island. A dozen or so villas were dotted around the grounds, some on rocky outcrops, hanging precariously over the waves. Vintage French cars dotted the landscape and the whole air of the place harked back to the Riviera of the Swinging Sixties.
After my interview, I sat on a terrace with Danica, sipping coffee and marvelling at the view back across the bay and the shoreline and the distance Alpes Maritimes. Monaco was around the headland to the west and the coast curving away to the north-east was in Italy, heading towards Genoa.
I wasn’t nervous as I had no expectation. I was resolved to this being my last sight of Danica and I would soon be back in Cornwall, with not even Tasha to fall back on.
They had said it would be about an hour before they let me know. Therefore it was a shock to hear a discrete cough from behind me after only forty minutes. I turned to see Claudine, the General Manager and one of the three staff who had interviewed me, smiling and holding a big envelope under her arm. She held out her hand towards me and I barely heard her words for Danica’s unseemly screech of joy.
“Bienvenu a Sur la Mer, Miss Green. We are delighted to have you on board!”
Three
My feet barely touched the ground in the first few weeks of landing at Sur la Mer. It was hard work, but again apart from some slight changes, the work was familiar and nothing new. The surroundings certainly were though, and I never tired of that view back to the mainland and doubted I ever would.
It was wonderful being back with Danica again and we took up where we left off, although there were no equivalents to Robert which was a little disappointing. The staff quarters were in the basement of the main hotel, known as Le Chateau and comprised of single rooms. There was no ban on fraternisation with other staff members but discretion was advised. That suited Danica and I and although our relationship was noted by some, there were a fair few gay couples on the male side, so there were no issues.
It was just a shame that the three guys we would definitely have tried our charms on were all in relationships — two of them with each other.
I was assigned to three different stations in the first three weeks — waitressing at the bistro, room service and bar work either in the main bar or by the infinity pool on the rooftop of Le Chateau. The view from there was even better than down below and the colours of the pool mesmerised me as I served drinks and canapes.
Above it was the crowning glory of the resort, the owner’s private suite named after the nearby landmark of Cap Ferrat. Suite Cap Ferrat was spoken of in hushed tones by the staff and newbies like Danica and I would not be allowed even close to it. From the infinity pool it looked like a spaceship had landed on the roof, all chrome, glass and wood and I could easily imagine it in a science fiction movie. Apparently the owner used it as their main winter residence and in the summer it was let, usually free of charge, to the great and good who could afford it most. The names of movie stars, rockstars, tennis players and racing drivers amongst others who had stayed there read like a Who’s Who of the last thirty years.
I loved it up there but I also loved working in the bistro. The food was the best I had ever tasted, despite it being the resort’s third-string restaurant and I shuddered to think of what the three Michelin-starred main restaurant in Le Chateau would be like.
Maybe one day.
Room service was my least favourite service as it was damned hard work. I had never taken to arriving at a stranger’s door, bearing gifts. In my early days back in Cornwall I had walked in on couples getting it on and on one occasion, I was sure the man I was delivering wine to was doing something he shouldn’t under the bedclothes as I uncorked it. One or two girls — and even one boy I knew of had been propositioned, although it had never happened to me.
At least not yet.
There were some quite large distances involved and I found my daily steps were covered quite easily and on some weekends or busy times, I could cover fifteen kilometres in a day. That wasn’t so much of a problem as I loved walking the Cornish coast, so I was used to the distance. It was the fact that covering that distance carrying food and drink, even if it was pushing one of the electronic trolleys we used, took its toll. Soon, Danica and I were becoming experts in shoulder massages as well as honing our other, relatively new-found skills.
I may have disliked room service, but at least I had it to thank for changing my life. It didn’t seem as though that was going to be the case when I was asked to deliver a bottle of vintage champagne to a location that came up on the iPad mini strapped to my wrist as ‘VAM.’
‘VAM’ was the resort shorthand for Villa Alpes Maritimes, probably the most sought-after of the outside villas, set upon the highest of the various outcrops. Apparently the view from the picture window and balcony was something special.
I set up my trolley and wheeled it out of the main bar area onto one of the perimeter paths, where the electronics kicked in. It was nice to just wander along behind it as it wound its own sweet way to its destination and helped me get the lie of the land in no time. Inside Le Chateau or villas the electronics were disabled for safety, but we had very elegant copper wristbands that were programmed to let us open doors with a wave of our hands.
Its journey done, my trolley glided up to the door of the villa and I reached out to activate the intercom. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see the door swing open as each guest had a telephone app that showed the progress of their order down to the nearest metre. I took control of my trolley and wheeled it in, trying not to stare open-mouthed at the opulence of the place, or the sheer, jaw-dropping view of the coastline through the massive floor-to-ceiling window. The place was vast, probably bigger than the entire block of ten apartments that housed my family home in Redruth for most of my life. Our flat would have comfortably fitted into the vestibule and there were doors off it and what looked like a mezzanine bedroom up a circular staircase that cut the main picture window in two.
I knew the recipient of the delivery was a female but there was no-one in sight. I stood in the middle of this incredible sanctuary and tried to summon up the courage to speak.
“Excusez-moi, Madame. Service de chambre.” My voice seemed to get lost in the enormity of the surroundings.
I waited a moment and a figure appeared at the top of the staircase. It was certainly a female and she wore a yellow two-piece bikini, a broad brimmed sunhat and very little else. She smiled down at me from on high.
“Ah, merci, sur le balcon s’il vous plait!” She flicked a hand towards the large opening in the left wall.
“Certainement, Madame.” I wheeled the trolley over and gasped out loud as I now saw the view without the window in the way. The balcony jutted out into the Med and the view in front of me was uninterrupted by anything man-made and I gasped at the beauty of the distant, snow-capped mountains.
I put the ice bucket with its precious cargo on the small table next to a lounger and shook my head in disbelief. As I did so, she spoke from the doorway.
“Quite the view, isn’t it?” Her voice was soft but commanding.
I turned to see her leaning nonchalantly on the doorpost, smoke curling up from a black cigarette in a holder in her left hand. “C’est magnifique, Madame. Encroyable.”
She laughed and took a pull on her holder. “Your French is impeccable young lady, but you are as English as I am. Please, save a poor middle-aged lady the embarrassment of delivering her A-level French, which is now largely forgotten in the mists of time.”
I had been told to be friendly with the guests if they seemed they would be happy with it, but not overly familiar. I took the woman to be in her late thirties and she was very good looking and still had a body to die for. “Certainly, Madame, but I think Madame is neither middle-aged nor lacking in her linguistic skills. She is doing herself an injustice.”
She blew out smoke and smiled at me, leaning forward to see my name tag. “Thank you… Keren. Keren Green, eh? I have lived here for twenty years, so I have picked up the odd phrase. Nice name, nice accent. West country girl? Devon? Cornwall?”
I inclined my head. “I’m a Kernow girl alright Madame and I am impressed you would notice.”
She moved past me and stood by the lounger. “Spent many a happy time in my teens down that way. Lovely part of the world. So what brings a delightful young lass like you down to this neck of the woods?”
I hadn’t expected an inquisition, but it was nice to talk with a guest after so many brief encounters. “First it was a holiday with a friend. Then I got a job along the coast near Cannes. A girl I met there got a job here and somehow got me an interview. I’ve been here three weeks and I am still pinching myself.”
She smiled. “And you still will be if you are here at my age, Keren. It never gets old. So, I hope that before you started on the hard work, you got plenty of sun, sand and sex? I certainly got two of those things in my time in Cornwall.” She twisted her mouth. “Sun didn’t shine much though…”
I felt the same frisson of excitement I had when I had first given in to Danica but I dared not let it show. Instead, I feigned self-modesty and smiled demurely. “I couldn’t possibly say, Madame. May I open your champagne?”
Something about her just fascinated me. She was so confident in her own skin and exuded a powerful, commanding presence. Even though she was around my size she seemed to tower over me, oozing sexuality. I wished I could see her eyes but they were hidden behind a pair of Raybans that would have cost me a month’s wages.
Her smile was almost hidden by another plume of smoke. Why did she look so damned sexy when she did that? “Shame, I do so love a salacious tale. Now I shall never know. Oh and thank you, but I’ll wait until my guest arrives for the champers.”
I decided to play her little game. “Thank you, and – never say never, Madame.” I took a step back towards the villa.
“Oh, I never do, Miss Green. It is not a word I am familiar with.” She held up her cigarette. “May I count on your discretion? I clearly broke the rules by lighting this before I came outside.”
In reply, I made a zipping motion across my lips. “Enjoy your champagne and the rest of your day, Madame.”
“Oh, I will, young Keren. I certainly will. Lovely talking with you. And for your trouble, there is something for you on the dresser inside the door.”
I nodded my thanks. “Merci, Madame. Vous etes tres gentile.”
As I did a double take at what was on the dresser, there was a throaty chuckle behind me. “Choose carefully, Keren. Please don’t spoil my afternoon.”
I picked up the twenty Euro bill and turned back to her, trying to keep my voice level. “Merci encore, Madame. I’ll leave the rest for your delectation.”
As my empty trolley glided back down the path towards Le Chateau, I wondered what her reaction would have been if instead of the money, I had chosen the G-spot vibrator, black strap-on or nine inch dildo that also adorned the dresser.
The rest of my shift went by in a blur as I tried to imagine what she got up to for the rest of the afternoon, and with whom.
When Danica came back late from her shift, apologising for doing extra hours and crying off our usual end to the evening, it never occurred to me to put two and two together. It would be a few weeks before I was able to do that simple arithmetic.
For the next few days, I hoped to get another visit to the enigmatic woman in ‘VAM’ but by the time I was back on bar duty, I remained disappointed. Danica and I were back in full swing after her little time-out and we were very taken with the double-ended strap-on she had ordered from our now favourite online adult shop.
Well, that was where she said it came from, so who was I to argue?
I liked working in the main bar. The huge glass and steel atrium at the centre of Le Chateau was a clearing house for the two restaurants that adjoined it and it was always buzzing with beautiful people in their finery, drinking ridiculously priced wines and a range of cocktails that made the lovely and talented Robert look like a trainee barman from a back street boozer in Redruth.
Gaston, the junior sommelier sent me my latest order for table nine via my iPad mini. I nodded across the bar to him, wishing he wasn’t an item with one of the sous-chefs in the bistro. They were both utterly gorgeous, but oblivious to the charms of a horny Cornish lass and her Ukrainian girlfriend.
It was a young, refreshing bottle of wine, perfect for a pre-dinner drink, but it was at the top of the huge floor-to-ceiling chiller cabinet that dominated the wall behind the bar. It looked utterly spectacular and Danica and I once tried to work out how much wine was in there and how much it would cost. When Gaston told us, we stood like goldfish, wondering how many years we would have to work at Sur la Mer to afford even one rack of the stuff.
I rolled the ladder along on its rail and clambered up, hoping it would be my only such order of the night. Sometimes a night in the bar could be as exhausting as a day on room service. Back at ground level I set it in a cooler, made sure the two glasses were clean and chilled and strode purposefully towards table nine. The woman had her head down, hard at work on her social media on her phone.
“Bonsoir Madame, comment allez-vous ce soir? Votre vin, si vous plait.”
She never looked up. “I’m just fine and dandy, thank you Keren. How is my favourite room service girl tonight?” She now looked up and smiled playfully. “Have you been avoiding me?”
My heart leapt as I put down the wine. “Absolutely not, Madame. My apologies. The last time I saw you, you wore a hat and sunglasses. I didn’t recognise you tonight.”
This time I could see her eyes and they bored into mine like green lasers. “I suppose if I wore the bikini and the sex toys were on the table, it would have been more obvious?”
“Possibly Madame, but I would have to ask you to leave as you are inappropriately dressed. May I pour your wine?”
“You may, Keren. And please, call me Vanessa.”
I took the bottle from the cooler. “Maybe in your villa, Madame.” I looked around the room. “Mais pas ici.” I switched to a real Cornish burr. “Mor’n moi job’s worth, comme on dit in Newquay.”
She laughed. “Oim sure you do. I like you Keren – you have spirit and you are fun. Most of the staff are polite and reserved, but you… you have something about you. Now, please do the honours if you don’t mind.”
I was forgotten for a moment as she went back to her phone. I busied myself with the bottle and appraised her surreptitiously. Her hair was dark and fell in natural waves to her shoulders. Her mouth was wide and full-lipped and her nose long and almost aquiline. For her age, she was a stunningly attractive and elegant lady. Her simple, clinging black cocktail dress showed off her ample curves very nicely and enhanced an alluring cleavage. It all added up to an impressive package that would turn most men’s heads, never mind a twenty-three year old waitress with a new-found affinity for her own gender.
Then there were those eyes. The things that took the lady I now knew as Vanessa to another level. They were slightly hooded and sparkled with life and intensity. They enhanced every nuance on her expressive face and had fixed me with such intensity that I could barely think straight when confronted by them.
Having done the necessary with the foil cutter and the corkscrew, I held out the cork to her. “Madame?”
Without an upwards glance, she took my hand and held the cork under her nose, inhaling deeply. Her fingers squeezed mine and she held her breath for a moment before releasing me without a word.
“Would Madame care to sample her wine?”
Those lasers fixed me from below. “No, Keren. I shall trust your knowledge, which you must have to work here. You shall be my nose and taste buds. Please, taste on my behalf and give me your honest judgement.”
I had taken a few wine tasting courses over the years and was grateful for my training. I may only be able to afford Vin Ordinaire but I still knew my Beaujolais Nouveau from my Chateauneuf du Pape. I poured a drop into the glass, swirled it around, then did the mouthwash thing that never seemed to make any difference to me. I was unable to spit it out so broke a house rule and swallowed it. After all, a wealthy guest had asked me my opinion, so who was I to argue?
“Well Madame, it is a young but vibrant wine, with overtones of lemongrass, kiwi fruit and a hint of honey. Perfect for a pre-dinner aperitif. Our sommelier works closely with the vineyard on a number of our exclusive wines and this is a perfect example of how the local terroire influences the taste of this unassuming but still remarkably complex vintage.”
She regarded me with amusement. “So it’s not cat’s piss then?”
I picked up the bottle. “Ah, apologies Madame – I missed the bit about feline urine. I thought it was piss-de-chien. Lost in translation, you understand.”
She picked up the glass and held it out to me. “You, my dear girl are a class act. Will you be doing the honours in there tonight?” Her head inclined towards the huge glass door of the three-starred restaurant.
I poured her wine. “Alas, Madame I need to work on the difference between cat’s wee and doggie wee for a few more years before I am allowed within those hallowed portals. Would Madame be so kind as to sign on my pad for her bottle of unmentionable animal excretion?”
She took my stylus and scribbled something with a flourish. “I am in two minds, Keren.”
“About what, Madame?”
“Whether to report you for gross impertinence or put you forward for employee of the month.”
I smiled. “As long as I make an impression one way or the other…” I leaned in close. “Vanessa.” I straightened up. “Well, enjoy your evening Madame and I hope to see you soon.”
“You too, sweet girl. And I will enjoy, darling.” She handed me a twenty Euro bill and gazed over my shoulder. “Ah, Serge, mon chéri, perfect timing as ever!”
When I turned around I was under no illusions that Vanessa would enjoy her evening. Serge was an absolute dreamboat. Heads turned at the sight of this fortyish Adonis with swept back shoulder length hair and craggy Gallic looks. Women of a certain age cricked their necks to get a better view and a Cornish girl in her early twenties returned to the bar with an empty tray and a little twinge down below.
I tried to read her signature on my pad, but all I could make out other than her initial ‘V’ were three more letters, ‘deL’ before the stylus stroke swept upwards like a comet trail.
I couldn’t wait for Danica to return after my shift, but once again, I was disappointed. She stood at the bottom of the bed like an automaton, arms by her side. She then raised them above her head and fell face first onto the bed, legs sticking up in the air. Her voice was muffled by the bedclothes.
“Sozzy babes. Long shift. Danni sleepy.”
And with that, she was gone.
I had never known anyone who could fall asleep at the drop of a hat like Danica Antonova. I straightened her legs and covered her with the sheet, still in her uniform. It was like being back with Jack, rubbing one out, imagining Vanessa going down on Serge and him exploding over her breasts and beautiful, arrogant face.
I still cannot believe that I was so naive not to realise that Serge had just exploded over Danica’s breasts and sweet face as well as Vanessa’s.
Then, just over a week later, Vanessa made her move on me.
Four
When I got the call to deliver a bottle of fine bubbles to her villa at the end of my shift, I knew the game was on. My decision was already made if she came on to me. I decided against a trolley as I hoped I would not be back. When her door swung open, I had to catch my breath.
She was lounging on a chaise longue next to a low table in dark grey lycra workout gear, smoke curling up from her cigarette. I narrowed my eyes and shook my head in admonishment.
“I’ve already bought your silence, Keren. Not a fucking word – I’ve paid a fortune to inhabit this little beach hut for the summer and I’ll happily pay for the fumigation before I move on. So once again, turn a blind eye and be a dear and pop the bubbles down here, will you please.”
I did as I was bid. She acted like she owned the place, so it was her problem, not mine. “Certainly Vanessa. Hope you enjoyed your evening last week.” I busied myself with the cork.
She looked like the cat that got the cream. “I did indeed, young lady. A lovely meal with a very dear friend.”
I doubted that was the extent of it, but I held my council as the cork popped. “May I do the honours?”
“Indeed you may, and pour a glass for yourself, my dear.”
Yes, we were on! I decided to have a little fun of my own. “Thank you Vanessa, but I am on duty. Strictly forbidden to imbibe alcohol.”
She nodded sagely. “Quite correct, but by my watch it is five minutes past six and the day shift ends at six. So either you are working overtime or in your own leisure time.” She gestured to one of the glasses, then to the chair opposite. “So please, I insist. You work bloody hard and deserve a little treat.”
I thanked her and poured two glasses. She touched hers to mine and I sat down. I was used to Prosecco at best and the first sip probably cost more than the last bottle Danica and I had shared.
Vanessa looked me up and down appraisingly. “That uniform suits you. I didn’t have you in mind when I designed it, but you wear it well.”
I looked at her in amazement. “Wow, I’m impressed. I love the design. Are you a fashion designer then?”
“I’m a lot of things, Keren but no – I am very good friends with the General Manager and I showed her some scribbles I made. She liked them and now lovely girls like you make the results look good.”
I really did love the design and told her so. “I’ve worn a few shockers but this is a cut above. It’s so sixties and I love the way the bands of blue remind me of the infinity pool. I hate wearing hats but the cap is so cool.”
“Thank you and yes, I love the sixties look. I binge-watched a boxset of an airline drama set in the sixties and their uniforms resonated with me, so I used them for inspiration. If I could spirit myself back to that time, I would in a heartbeat. ”
I pointed to her cigarette holder. “Hence the holder? Very swinging sixties.”
She gave me a wry look. “In part, but I’ll need to know you a little better before I give you the full monte on that little tale! But how remiss of me – do you?” She indicated a silver cigarette case on the table.
I shook my head. “Not anymore.”
“Shame, I do like seeing a pretty girl smoke. But sensible of you. Teenage phase?”
I recalled a bad six months when my stepfather came into my life. “Yes – I rebelled a bit aged seventeen. Did a few things I regret – pills, smoking, a bit of dope. Not a good time, but I saw sense.”
“Good girl. I was a bit silly when I first came down to this neck of the woods. Went at it full tilt and hoovered up the gross national product of a small nation before I cleaned my act up.” Another wry look. “Well, in one department, anyway.”
Then came the kicker. “I try to limit myself to smoking before and after sex these days.” Her eyes bored into mine.
“So you smoke a lot then?”
Her laugh was genuine and hearty. “Keren, I really am going to put you forward for employee of the month. Sorry my dear – I am so bloody obvious, but I am used to getting what I want.” She took a long final pull on her holder and stubbed it out, her eyes now blazing. “So not to beat about the bush, Miss Green, would you do me inestimable honour of lying with me in sexual congress this evening?”
I drained my glass and held her gaze. “Thought you’d never fucking ask, Madame. More champagne?”
She held out her glass and gave me a strange, searching look as I refilled it. “Keren are you doing this of your own volition or do you feel pressured by a rich guest who may actually intimidate you?”
I was a little taken aback to say the least. “Rest assured, Vanessa – no-one intimidates me. You are a wealthy lady and I am a waitress, but as my good friend Tasha would say, you still bleed every month. You fart and scratch your arse when nobody is looking.”
She glared at me. “How dare you, young lady. I do nothing of the sort. I will scratch my arse when it pleases me and my farts are legendary!”
We both lost it for a moment as the absurdity of the situation washed over me. I shook my head in disbelief. “I’ve barely spent five minutes in your company and I’ve already agreed to spend the night with you. Who the fuck are you, Vanessa?”
She lit another cigarette. “Oh dear girl, I haven’t a fucking clue. If you’re still around when I find out, I’ll be happy to tell you, but we may both be old and grey by then.”
“Ok then – what are you?”
“An easier question. How shall I describe myself?” She closed her eyes for a moment and made some inroads into her cigarette and champagne. “I’m a facilitator. I make dreams come true for people like you – beautiful, sexy, intelligent girls and boys in whom I see some promise. In the process, I also make my own dreams come true.”
I was now very interested, but I played it low key. “Such as?”
“What do you think? That three letter word that some find offensive but others crave. It all comes down to sex with me, Keren. I live for it. I allow others to live out their fantasies. I can make it happen. I could make you a very well-off young lady. Escorting, parties, orgies. Modelling, porn – I could say the sky is your limit, but I never set my sights that low.”
All I could hear in my head were my words to Tasha. “There has to be something more than this.” At that moment, I was being offered a chance of more than this by a very compelling lady. I so wanted to believe her and something hit me between the eyes with a rock-solid certainty.
Whatever she was offering, I wanted to be part of it.
I sipped my wine and tried to keep a lid on my emotions. “There are people in the news at the moment who have also provided those sort of services. Some are behind bars, some are mercifully deceased. Somehow I don’t think you are like them, but I need to be sure. I’m interested, Vanessa. What can you say to convince me you are not like them?”
Her voice was calm and even. “Well said, Keren. Well said indeed. What I said a few minutes ago is something of a mantra for me — about it being your decision. Believe me, I am not like those people – nor are my friends. You would never need recourse to crystal paperweights and kinky boots as I did.”
There was obviously a tale brewing and I was utterly intrigued. “Vanessa, I am twenty-three years old and I wait tables and provide room service. As you so rightly observed the first time we met, I came to France looking to get fucked rotten.”
A laugh interrupted me. “See – never say never!”
“Told you, didn’t I. Well, Vanessa, believe it or not, I love sex as well. So come on, mysterious, enigmatic Vanessa whoever and whatever you are. It is now six-thirty. I’ll give you until seven to convince me.”
She held out her glass once more and touched it to mine. “And if I fail?”
“I’ll still sleep with you.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m damned sure you will be a great fuck, Madame.”
She inclined her head. “Oh I am, Keren Green. Believe it. OK – the unvarnished truth – well, as much as I am prepared to divulge on night one. Ready?”
I prayed she would convince me. “Go for it.”
I listened with rapt attention as she told me as much of her tale of her early years as she was prepared to. By the end, there was no doubt in my mind she was sincere.
“Ok, warts and all, Keren. I’ll tell you why I will never coerce, force or demand that any of my charges do anything against their will. When I was barely eighteen, my employer decided he liked me and gave me a job way above my pay grade. I was his personal assistant but it soon became apparent that I was to be very personal to him. I was no stranger to doing to men what he asked me – sorry, he instructed me to do on pain of losing my job – but he was a disgusting, overweight ball of sleaze. Charles Brabinger was the vermin’s name and I really do say, in all sincerity, I hope he rests in eternal torment if he has arrived down below where he deserves to be. When I refused his advances, he threatened me with losing my job. When I told him to take a flying fuck, he grabbed me by my cute little pigtails and told me he would relish seeing me ‘wearing his load’ as he so eloquently put it. As you may now be aware Keren, under most circumstances that would not be an issue for me, but a twenty-two stone, sweaty, balding pervert – even I have standards.”
Every sexual encounter I’d had since I was sixteen had been entirely consensual and I couldn’t imagine being forced into a situation I wasn’t comfortable with. I swallowed hard. “Shit, Vanessa – what happened?”
“Vanessa happened, Keren. Remember I mentioned a big crystal paperweight? When he pulled me down, I completely panicked and thought about biting him, but that would mean making contact with the horrid thing. Then I remembered his prize paperweight — some sort of award or other. I scrabbled around on his desktop, trying to find the damned thing and just as he was about to force me onto him, I grabbed it.”
She shivered at the memory and pulled on her cigarette. “It was bad enough when I hit him in the bollocks with it, but the worst sound was when the next blow smashed his nose. Honestly, Keren – I hope you never live through that experience. I occasionally dream of a fat sleazeball wheezing like an extra from the Living Dead as I kick him in the balls multiple times with a very nasty pair of studded ankle boots.”
I held my fist out to her. “Way to go, lady.”
Her face was a picture. “I’m not all that familiar with the younger generation, Keren. Do I do that back to you or is that an idea for later?”
Danica and I had tried fisting a few times and the idea certainly appealed. “Let’s say both, shall we?” She bumped me. “So, what happened next?”
She shrugged. “I hadn’t a fucking clue what to do. I had a probable assault charge on my hands and a fat slob looking like a slaughtered pig in a heap before me. I did what any sensible girl of my age would do – I flew to Nice, hitchhiked to Monte Carlo and paid the driver in the manner that the foul Charles Brabinger would have relished, then settled into a life of sun, sex and sand that even Cornwall couldn’t compete with.”
She sucked the life out of her cigarette and tossed her glass back in one hit. “Rest assured if you sign up with me, there will be no need for paperweights and kinky boots.”
I drained my own glass. “Shame, I quite like kinky boots.”
“Leather and latex evening wear?”
“Out of my price range, Madame. Like to try them though.”
“Stick around, kid. You will and you’ll look just great.”
“Well Vanessa, you’ve convinced me so far.” I took a sip of champagne, barely able to believe my luck. “Ok, sounds like fun. Where do I start?”
Her hand went to her chin, as if in contemplation. “We seem to be getting along well. You call it.”
I thought for a moment. “Ok, since we’re going to have sex, I think I’ll have a cigarette first.”
Five
Two hours later, I walked back through the grounds in a daze hoping I wouldn’t come across any guests or staff members. I probably stank of sex despite cleaning up in a bathroom that defied description. Danica was waiting for me, tucked up in bed, her tousled head sticking out from under a single sheet.
A hand went to her mouth to cover a sweet little giggle as I leaned on the doorpost. “Now you know why I’m so sleepy all the time. Vanessa is a naughty lady!”
Vanessa had already told me Danica was a little further down the road on her journey than me. “You little tinker, Danni — you knew all about it, didn’t you?”
She pulled the sheet over her face and I could see her nodding behind it. She uncovered one eye. “The second time I was with her, I told her about you. She’s friends with Claudine, the General Manager. That’s how I got you the interview. Mad at me?”
I flopped onto the bed beside her and tugged down the sheet. I tweaked her nose. “Mad at you? God, you dizzy little babe, I love you more than ever!”
She hugged me. “Love you too!” Then she recoiled. “Ew, smoky. Lovely Greenie not so lovely tonight!” Her face gave away the lie as she grinned down at me. “She asked me to smoke for her but I wouldn’t. See — she means it when she says nothing is forced. She’s never smoked when I’m with her since and I’ve never said no to anything else.”
“Glad she’s a woman of her word. Sorry babe – something about her and that holder just resonated with me. I wanted to make an impression. I’ll never do it around you either.”
She kissed the top of my head. “Should hope not. I was dying to tell you, but she swore me to secrecy. She’s amazing isn’t she?”
The tingle throughout my ravaged body testified to that. “She is indeed. So you believe her, Danni?”
Her whole body rocked as she nodded her assent. “Sure do. I’m not going to spoil the fun by telling you what will happen to you over the next few weeks, but yes – she has convinced me.” She stroked my face. “I’ve already signed up. I sold my soul to her last week, Greenie – but I told her I want to wait for you to decide so we can go into it together.”
I felt as though I was dreaming. “Thanks babe. Shit, Danni – what are we letting ourselves in for?”
“I don’t quite know what I’ve signed up for fully yet, but we’ll soon find out. Whatever, I think it’s going to be a roller-coaster!” She paused. “Did she… afterwards, did she…”
“Pay me? Yes but I don’t know how much. My phone battery died on the way back. I just had enough juice for her to make the transfer.”
Vanessa had insisted on paying me. It was a gesture of her goodwill and honest intentions and she would recompense me each time we were together. I felt a little uncomfortable, but if it was going to be a way of life for me, then it was something I was going to have to get used to. A rich woman had just paid me for sex. Others had paid me to deliver food and champagne to them. They were both things I did in my everyday life. Where was the difference?
I took my phone charger from the bedside table and plugged in my phone. When I turned back, Danica held up hers. “My first time with her.”
I looked at the screen in wonder. Five hundred Euros from the account of one Vanessa deLaunay. I now knew her full name. Danica scrolled down past a dozen or so similar entries and stopped at another one, this for one thousand Euros. My eyes nearly popped out.
“Fuck, Danni – is this for real?” Then I saw the date. It was the night I had served Vanessa in the bar and her date Serge arrived. “Danni – did that night involve a handsome gentleman called Serge by any chance? The night you came in and collapsed like you’d been hit by Tyson Fury?”
“Hey, I’m Ukrainian. It was Wladimir Klitschko who hit me, ok?” Her eyes went all dreamy. “That was my final audition. It was on another level, Greenie. No offence, but I’ve never had sex like it. He is a big man in every sense, if you catch my drift, but so gentle and caring. I never wanted it to end. I signed with Vanessa there and then.” She kissed me. “I can’t wait for you to sign too, so we can start our adventure together.” She suddenly looked scared. “You will say yes, won’t you?”
I kissed her snub nose. “If she’ll have me. I doubt I’ll ever be able to afford a villa like hers, but if it means a life less ordinary, then I’m in. Before I came down here, I told my friend Tasha there had to be more to life than what we had. I didn’t really believe it until three hours ago.” I hugged her tight. “We’re in this together, Supernova!”
Her voice was muffled against my chest. “Who’s Supernova?”
I tapped her on the head. “You are, Miss Antonova. You’re my little Danni Supernova — a bright, shining star of supercharged energy and love.”
She gave one last little giggle. “Danni Supernova. Like it — I’ve got my porn name already. Nighty night, lovely Greenie.”
She was asleep within seconds, a gentle smile on her sweet lips. I was buzzing and knew I would not be asleep for hours. When my phone had enough juice, I switched it on and stared in disbelief at the latest line on my banking app. Vanessa deLaunay Misc Outlay Account #2 +€500.00
I closed my eyes and thought back to the moment when I told Vanessa I was going to have a cigarette.
I didn’t know if it was my one and only chance at what she offered me, but I wasn’t going to die wondering. I reached down and opened her cigarette case and lit my first one in nearly six years. I hooked my left leg over the arm of my chair and exhaled a long plume of smoke in her direction, feeling slightly lightheaded and wondering if I had made the right decision. I resolved not to inhale and got on with my evening’s work.
I gazed into her eyes. “Ok, Vanessa. Since you like watching pretty girls smoke, I assume you like watching them masturbate. Join in whenever you like.”
I started slowly, giving her glimpses of the delights awaiting her, letting out little plumes of smoke that I hoped would turn her on. I let it trickle from my lips as I rubbed myself through my panties and she watched on with rapt attention, now smoking again herself. I ran my tongue around my lips as my fingers dug deep and shuffled forward so my bottom was level with the edge of the seat. For ten minutes, I smoked and played with myself for a woman fifteen years my senior and it seemed the most natural thing in the world. I realised in my sessions with Danica and Robert and briefly Alain that being watched was a turn-on for me — an aphrodisiac — and seeing how Vanessa reacted to me smoking, I knew I must be doing it right. The look of unbridled lust on her face spurred me on as I finished the cigarette and began to unbutton my uniform.
Danica and I loved masturbating together. We lay at each end of the bed and gazed into each other’s eyes as we worked on ourselves, so I had no issues with doing it, even for an almost complete stranger. For some reason it felt liberating. I didn’t have any toys to enliven the scene so I stayed partially clothed to keep the suspense going for her as I fingered myself, making all the right noises, pinching my nipples, cupping my breasts. It took me almost ten minutes to get naked and as I did so, she lit another cigarette and leaned across and handed it to me.
I took it and pointed down below. “Only if…”
I held my breath as she knelt before me, her green eyes blazing. It seemed strange smoking with the holder and I let out a long thin stream again as my other hand gripped the chair arm. It was down to her now — my work was done. Her eyes never left mine as she went to work, pulling my pussy lips apart and lapping at me with a long, narrow tongue. I blew smoke down towards her, purring in the back of my throat and she inhaled it up her nose as she licked me.
I lost all track of time as her tongue, lips and fingers played me as if she were a master violinist and I was her Stradivarius. I even managed a couple of inadvertent inhales before I leaned over and stubbed out the cigarette.
That was her signal to take it home and I came, both hands gripping the chair arms, legs cocked wide, my buttocks off the seat. I gasped out in ecstasy, lips sucking at my clit and fingers pressing on my G-spot. The finger squirming in my back passage just added to the mix and at last I flopped back down thoroughly sated.
She kissed me for the first time, her mouth wet with my juices. I couldn’t get my head around the fact that a woman I barely knew and mainly had called Madame was kneeling in front of me, her face coated in the residue of the shattering orgasm she had just induced in me. I stroked her wet cheek.
“Thank you Madame. Quite a nice little tip for delivering a bottle of champagne. Will that be all tonight?”
“Glad you enjoyed it. I certainly enjoyed your naughty little show-and-tell. And no – it fucking well will not be all, young lady. There is a very nice strap-on lying on the bed upstairs. Be a darling and put it on. I shall be up in a moment.”
I went up the spiral staircase, trying not to be distracted by the view or the tingling glow between my legs. The bed was enormous and the double-ended strap-on looked tiny lying there, artfully arranged with the straps in the shape of a heart. I fitted it and stood with my hand on it, wishing it was a real cock, squeezing down on my end of the deal. Suddenly it didn’t seem so tiny. I gazed out of the window and hoped no-one on the mainland had a high-powered telescope trained on me.
Then I laughed to myself. Actually, I hoped someone did.
I stood for a few moments, aware that she was behind me, a few feet from the bed. I decided to ignore her and let her make the first move. I stood, gently masturbating the dildo as I gazed absently out. I spat into my hand and slathered it all over, then let saliva dribble out of my mouth onto the toy and rubbed that around also. As with when Claudine had welcomed me, I heard a discrete cough from behind me.
I turned. “Oh, there you are. Thought I was on my own again.”
I got my first view of Vanessa naked. Her breasts were slightly larger than mine and obviously had been worked on. Nice fat nipples tipped them and her skin was lightly tanned. Her dark bush was neatly trimmed into a triangle shape, pointing towards the promised land. I looked her up and down and my first thought was that I hoped I looked half as good in fifteen years’ time.
Her voice was low and husky. “Miss Green, there is a lovely delicate breeze coming up these stairs from the balcony door, but if you think I’m going to get off on a zephyr from the Med, you have another think coming. Now, young lady — you have the wherewithal at your disposal to do whatever you like to me — so fucking do it.”
Splendid. Game on. I walked towards her and gauged she was two steps away from the bed. I tapped the end of the dildo against her tummy. “Step back, bitch.”
Her eyes sparkled. “What did you just call me?”
“Fucking hell, the bitch is deaf as well.” My voice rose. “I said step back!”
She did, her face alive with anticipation.
I closed the space between us. “Again.”
“Make me.”
I put my hand on her sternum and pushed hard. “Fucking do as you’re told.”
“Since you asked nicely…” She stepped back demurely, her calves now touching the edge of the bed.
I gave her another hard shove and she tumbled back onto the bed, her hair flying, legs in the air. I grabbed both of her ankles and pulled her forwards until her bottom was level with the edge. With her ankles up around my shoulders, I leaned in and slid the head of the dildo inside her, eliciting a sharp intake of breath.
I gave her my best waitressing smile as I gripped both ankles. “Good evening Madame. I’m Keren, your room service girl tonight. I do hope you enjoy your evening, because…” I rammed the dildo home hard. “Because Madame — here’s some fucking room service you… are… never… going… to… forget!”
Each of the last six words were grunted out and punctuated with a hard thrust, after which I went at her with something approaching a fury. I didn’t know what had come over me, but I just knew I had to impress this woman, even if I didn’t really know how.
I had never done anything like it — with Danica it was gentle and loving — here it was as if I hated the woman. I thought back to my rebel days — railing against authority and hating anyone telling me what to do. Maybe I was just showing a wealthy, arrogant woman that even a lowly waitress could fuck her just as well as the great and good she had no doubt enjoyed in the past.
Her cries certainly spurred me on, taunting me, interspersed with guttural grunts and moans. “Is that all you’ve got, little girl? Fuck me, you amateur. Harder, girl. Can barely feel it. Fucking lightweight, give me some cock, bitch!”
It all came out in a stream of consciousness, driving me on as I started to get off again on the dildo up inside me. She called me all the names she could think of as I battered into her, her hand rubbing herself furiously as I went on relentlessly for minutes on end.
Her breath ragged, she put a wet hand on my chin, gripping my cheeks. The words sounded like they were being torn from her. “Fuck… my… arse…”
Who was I to argue with a wealthy guest? “Certainly Madame. One arse-fuck coming up.”
I pulled out and slammed home again as she screamed, her fingers a blur. I love anal, but the treatment I gave her would have torn me in two. She loved it, screaming for me to go harder and just when I thought my legs were going to give way, she looked at me imploringly.
“Keren, I’m going to come. Please lick me. I want to squirt on your lovely face.”
Relieved, I pulled out and sank to my knees, her legs now trailing down my back. Her buttocks eased up off the bed and I began to lap at her, then as I tasted her salty fluids, sucked ever harder as she began to flood into my mouth, screaming obscenities and scrubbing at her clit with long-tipped fingernails.
Danica had squirted twice but I had never managed it and hoped I would someday. It felt every bit as good as a cum shot as she shook and shuddered and my face and the floor were soaked with her juices. I rammed my dildo in and out hard and came a second time as she subsided. It dripped from my chin into a little puddle between her legs and she pulled me up gently by the hair and we met for a long, wet kiss.
We fell into a tangled heap on the bed and she wiped us both down with a thick towel and lay in my arms, still breathing heavily. “Fucking hell, Keren — where did that come from?”
“I’m not actually sure myself. Something took me over. Was it ok?”
“Was it ok?” She shuddered in my grasp. “Was it ok? Whatever took you over, bottle it and you’ll make a fucking fortune. That wasn’t ‘ok’, it was beyond words young lady — beyond words.”
I was on such a high as we lay in silence, taking a few minutes to come back down to earth, Vanessa stroking my hair that now fell down around my shoulders. She lit a cigarette and held the holder to my lips. I pulled on it, careful not to inhale, and let out the smoke in a gentle trickle into her mouth.
She purred. “Thank you, Keren. It’s a little thing of mine as you can tell. A little fetish of mine for many years. Not everyone’s thing, but it turns me on. Smoke kissing, cum kissing, sharing the spoils. All part of the fun.”
We did it again and it really did feel rather nice. I knew I would never become a regular smoker again, but maybe under the right circumstances I could be persuaded, and these seemed like the right circumstances to me. We shared it in companionable silence then she took my face in her hands.
“You have the right attitude and the right talent, Keren. I’m convinced you can go a long way. I haven’t seen you with a man yet, obviously, but I can’t wait. You have that naughty girl-next-door vibe. I know you were trying to impress me and you did. That was utterly amazing — lovely and tender in parts and utterly feral in others. Would you be comfortable making porn? Attending rather naughty parties? Maybe even stage shows?”
I thought for a moment. “Over the last few months, I’ve proved to myself I’m up for almost anything. I had my first group sex a while ago — three of us, then four. I made out with another girl and now we’re together and it was such a blast for both of us watching each other in action. We both got off on it. Then seeing your face tonight — it’s so exciting knowing something you are doing is turning someone else on. If that audience was bigger, I guess the kick would be bigger as well. So yes — if the chance arose, I think I would.”
That is when she told me Danica had been with her on many occasions and had already signed up. I should have found it a shock, but somehow it just seemed a given. I thought back to her coming in drained and flopping down on the bed and knew I would soon be in the same state. In truth, I was utterly elated she and I were on the same path.
Vanessa stroked my cheek. “So don’t blame your pretty little girlfriend, Keren. I swore her to secrecy until you were on your journey. She told me all about your adventures and your rather awkward — how shall I put it – first contact.”
I smiled at the memory. “It was all very strange. I was doing this tug of war with myself — do I or don’t I? She’s so sweet and I’m so glad I let her go on. I love her so much. It was hell when she moved here and it was the best moment of my life when Claudine told me I had the job.”
“Best moment so far, Keren. From what Miss Antonova said, you sounded like the sort of girl I am looking for – as did she when she first graced this bed. I told Danica to mention you to Claudine — as I said we’re big buddies — have been for years.” She saw a look in my eyes. “Rest assured, Keren — you got the job on merit. I can pull strings, but not that many. I merely set things in motion, the rest was down to you. You are here because you impressed Claudine and her colleagues. They do not take on amateurs here. I do, but I hone them into ultimate professionals. Now, young lady — you’ve impressed me greatly as well as Claudine and you certainly gave me a very vigorous work-out, but it is getting late and I need my beauty sleep and you have a long day tomorrow.”
I stood and began to gather up my scattered garments. “Well, thank you for a very pleasant and informative evening Madame. May I enquire as to what happens next?”
“Oh, I’ll be in touch, don’t worry. After all, I love fine dining, but I also love a nice little nibble at a good Cornish pasty now and again!”
Six
It all seemed so surreal and for the next week I had to pinch myself as Danica and I resumed business as usual. I was back in the restaurant for a fortnight and was wondering how I would have the time to meet with Vanessa when my shift was split between eleven until three and six until midnight.
I need not have worried. I had forgotten that when I gave her my bank details, she also got my phone number. When a text message came in one morning and I read the content, I quickly saved the contact as ‘VdeL’.
The message was a single line. Need my Cornish pasty fix. Tasting session, three thirty tomorrow, VAM. Can’t wait!
I couldn’t wait to inhale her musky scent and taste her either. As I approached the villa the next day, I hoped she wouldn’t want payback for my feral assault on her the previous time. Again, I had nothing to worry about. She was already waiting for me in the vast bed on the mezzanine. I made sure my uniform was neatly folded and my hair stayed in my tightly bound pigtails. I removed the blue peaked cap this time and slid into bed beside her.
There was no smoking, no rough stuff — just a delicious, slow burn of two bodies entwining, enjoying the taste, smell and feel of each other and eliciting little moans and gasps as hands and tongues roamed. I went back to my duties feeling very mellow. I was always friendly with the guests, but maybe my pheromone levels were heightened as my tip jar for the evening was one of my best.
We did the same thing on two more afternoons, and during our third session, she lay stroking my breasts, teasing my nipples with fingers and tongue. “Such lovely, natural breasts, Keren. So shapely, so alluring.”
Hers were clearly enhanced — subtly, but there was a definite difference to the way hers wobbled to Danica’s and mine. The skin seemed slightly stretched, almost with a vinyl-like quality. I quite liked it, but never in a million years would I ever have mine done.
As she nibbled, she looked up at me. “These would look so lovely with little bars in them.”
I said I had always wanted them but never had the courage. Five minutes later, I was booked into a session on the mainland the following morning. My next few shifts were a little uncomfortable, but I loved them and so did Danica. And best of all, someone else had paid for them. A week after I had mine done, Danica proudly waved her pert little titties at me, now replete with beaded rings in each nipple.
It was when I was put back on room service that Vanessa got her retribution for our first time. She rammed into me with the strap-on until I could barely catch my breath. I was on the edge of the bed, facing the spectacular view, but I saw very little of it. I was blindfolded with little weights attached to my nipple bars and my legs stuck straight up in the air. My wrists were bound to my ankles with Velcro ties. Danica and I had tied each other up a few times, but this was on another level.
The woman was utterly relentless and I came over and over as the long, ribbed dildo did its work. When she rolled me onto my side and squeezed something cold and sticky against my anus, I held my breath. Danica struggled with anal whilst I had always relished it and it had long been my go-to at the wrong time of the month. We were practicing hard — my nemesis was deep-throating, which she could do with ease, despite her diminutive size. We watched ‘how-to’ videos and were getting better, but still had some way to go to match each other.
I shivered and shuddered as Vanessa entered me. I had told her I could take it all the way and did not disappoint her. I came, biting the pillow as she fingered me with one hand, her other tugging my weighted nipples until I screamed. It was no wonder she wanted me to have them pierced.
Afterwards, she invited me to demonstrate my oral skills on the dildo. It reminded me as to how long it had been since I had sex with a man and I asked her when it was likely to happen as there seemed to be few if any candidates at work. She was very impressed with my technique, but a little vague as to when I may get to do it next with a live person.
Danica had obviously had sex with men more recently, and on one night off we went over to the mainland looking to get laid but were out of luck. Everywhere was quiet or full of middle-aged holidaymakers, not rich playboys looking for some fun-loving girls to go ape on.
When I next net Vanessa, she told me she had a present for me. “It’s on the bed upstairs, darling. I’ll be up in a few minutes — make sure you’re playing with it when I get up there.”
Wondering what sort of sex-toy she had in mind, I raced up the stairs to find a little blonde girl kneeling on the bed. She wore a tight, black leather harness that criss-crossed her body and my heart almost stood still. She looked utterly sensational. When Vanessa came up and sat in the chair specially positioned for her viewing delectation, Danica already had two fingers inside me and I was sucking an ice cube from her gorgeous, pink folds.
It was a very long night and we put on a show and a half for Vanessa before she joined us. We ended the evening with my mouth clamped to Vanessa’s pussy, hers to Danica’s and Danica’s to mine in a triangle before topping things off with a long, sticky three-way kiss.
As we made to leave, she thanked us and asked if I would be able to see her on the following Saturday. It was unusual as we had never been together over a weekend before, but I had a day off so it was fine by me. Danica put on a grumpy face as we walked back to the staff quarters and only cheered up when the ‘kerching’ of an old fashioned till rang out within a few seconds from our respective phones. Another few hundred Euros for making love to my girlfriend in front of a hot older woman. What was not to like?
It seemed strange to go to her villa not in my uniform. I walked in through the open door and it swung shut behind me. A voice rang out from above.
“Something for you to wear on the main table darling. Then up here, please.”
Ten minutes later, I walked up the spiral staircase to the mezzanine clad in a body harness like the one Danica had worn. It took a bit of putting on, but when I looked at myself in the full-length mirror, I was amazed. It looked and felt incredible. I loved the feel of the tight leather bands of our strap-on around my waist and thighs, but these encircled my breasts and pudenda and went around my neck in a wide choker. There was a cigarette holder in my hand and I couldn’t wait to share a smoky kiss with her.
When I saw her lying on the bed, similarly clad, I knew I would be doing more than a smoky kiss. A tall naked man lay with her, his hand in her hair as she worked on him. I stood for a moment watching her with another man for the first time and took in the scene. He was probably mid-twenties, tall and athletic with a light beard, hair in a long ponytail and piercing blue eyes. He turned to me, smiling. I couldn’t imagine many men not smiling at what was in store for him.
“Bonsoir, Keren. Je m’appelle Christophe. Enchanté.”
I knelt down beside Vanessa. “Enchanté aussi.” I took a long pull on my holder and let a thin stream of smoke out over the head of his impressive erection. Vanessa took it between her lips and he moaned as I did it again. Vanessa lifted her head.
“Been dying to see you do that, lovely girl.” She took the holder from me and engulfed his cock with smoke and we slowly began to work on him together, teasing and nibbling. When she held him up for me and I sank down, I let out a long, low moan. It was the biggest cock I had ever had and I could feel my pussy lips stretching in a most delightful way. As Danica had done on our first time, she straddled his face and we kissed as his cock and tongue did wonderful things to us both. We then swapped and I squirmed as his long tongue went in deep. It was another long, steamy night and as I sucked Christophe’s cum from Vanessa’s pussy and dribbled it back into her open mouth, the view both inside and outside the villa was utterly breath-taking. As we knelt up, enjoying our first cum kiss, the moonlight sparkled on the water below and the lights twinkled along the promenade of the mainland.
Long after he had gone, we lay, sharing a cigarette and gazing at the vista and I knew with all my heart that I wanted this more than ever.
The next time with Christophe was even better as I had a little blonde bombshell called Danica with me and we got to share his cum. The look on her face as she sucked it from my pussy, then slowly crawled up my body to deliver it would live with me forever. Luckily, Vanessa took a picture of her on her phone as her shaggy little head popped up from between my legs. It was perfectly timed and her face was wet and a dribble of cum escaped her lips. Her big blue eyes were wide and her hair a tousled mess. It was breath-taking and a few days later, she returned from an evening with Vanessa with a large paper carrier bag.
Her gamine grin was in place, a sure sign something good was about to happen. “Got a pressie for both of us.”
I took the bag and squealed in delight when I saw a framed A4 sized version of the image, her lovely, sweet face staring at the camera. We resolved that when we didn’t live in a basement and had our own place, hopefully with a view of the sea, it would adorn the wall somewhere discreet along with one of mine. All we had to do now was find a suitable image to go with it.
Summer wore on and the sun shone and the sex was incredible. When another fine gentleman named Erich joined our sessions occasionally, I began to wonder how long it would be before Vanessa made me an offer. Danica had been on board for a while but remained on hold for me. I was still seemingly in my probationary phase. When I mentioned it to Danica, she told me to ask Vanessa myself.
“Tell her you’re ready, babe. You’ve done some amazing things. I told her I was ready. Maybe she’s waiting for you. As she said, it has to be our decision after all.”
It made sense. The next time I was with her we were alone. We lay naked on a lounger on her secluded balcony, glasses of a very fine Picpoul in our hands. When she shivered in delight as I gave her a mouthful of smoke, I felt the time was right. I slipped an arm around her shoulder.
“Vanessa, this is all beyond my wildest dreams. I come in, we have incredible sex with amazing people, but I still know little about you. I think I’ve earned the right to a bit more, don’t you?”
She burst out laughing. “As you said to me back in May — about fucking time! I said it had to come from you, didn’t I? It has to be your decision. I’ll happily shag anyone with you until we are old and grey, but I’d rather you came on board. If you’re ready to commit, just say the word.”
I sighed. “I’m ninety-nine-point nine percent sure you are on the level, Vanessa. But I need to know more about you. How you can afford to treat what you call this ‘little beach hut’ as your own for a whole summer. I couldn’t even afford a single night.”
She sat up. “Ok, Keren — let’s go back in to where this all began, shall we?”
We went back inside and sat in the same positions as we had done a few months earlier. For the first time since I started work at Sur la Mer, someone other than Danica poured me a drink.
She gathered her thoughts for a moment. “Right then – a short, potted history of Vanessa Lyle – as I was then – after arriving on the Riviera some twenty years ago. First of all, I threw myself into the party scene and gained quite a reputation as a girl who never said ‘no’. As I alluded to earlier, I unfortunately picked up a bad habit and began to get a little out of control. It is why I insist on a strict no-drugs policy with anyone I recruit to my cause.”
I nodded. “Safe with me then.”
“Good girl. So, when my funds began to run out, unlike you and your friend who sought more salubrious employment, I decided to get paid for the only thing I’m good at. I soon made a lot of money working for a high-end escort agency but the white stuff was taking over, so I did a short, sharp shock treatment and have been clean ever since.”
I told her I was glad to hear it — I hated my short time smoking pot and regretted the few times I tried pills as a teenager. I couldn’t imagine what getting off the hard stuff would be like.
She went on. “I was in demand and I gained a loyal band of men and some women who were prepared to pay a young woman a fortune to do virtually anything they liked. I allowed them to live out their fantasies with me. I told you a while ago I use my holder as an homage to the sixties look. Well, I know you better now and I can tell you I have this fetish because a gentleman saw me smoke after a session of ours, and the next time paid me handsomely to live out one of his long-time fantasies. I had never done it before, but as you have seen… it can be quite compelling.”
For a moment, she examined herself as if searching for something. “If I have an off-button, I’ve never found it. Anyway, I attended lavish parties and orgies and became very well-known and sought after. At one party, I came to the attention of a man called Pierre deLaunay. He was twice divorced and once widowed. He was twenty years my senior and aged twenty-three, I became the fourth Madame deLaunay.” A long sigh racked her body. “And aged twenty-seven, I was a very wealthy widow.”
That shocked me. “Oh my God, that’s awful. So sorry to hear that.” She was silent for a moment and I said something I hoped wouldn’t be taken the wrong way. “Not wanting to be rude, but – you were in love, I take it?”
She laughed. “A fair question, given the circumstances. I’ve been asked it many times as have many women in my position. A sadly departed English comedienne once asked the wife of an also sadly departed English magician and entertainer a question on her chat show. “What first attracted you to the millionaire Paul Daniels?” Another laugh. “It wasn’t the money with me, Keren. He was handsome, debonair, a consummate lover. He made my friend Serge look like the man who’s nose I broke. He was almost an Olympic standard showjumper and raced powerboats and motorcycles. Our parties were a thing of legend around this neck of the woods.”
Her eyes glazed over. “Yes, it was love — but it wasn’t meant to be. When he passed, I inherited a lot of his business interests and some went to his ex-wives and the estate of his own deceased wife. They got the more genteel parts of the estate and I held on to a few, but mainly concentrated on the — how shall we say – more pleasurable enterprises.”
I had a fair idea what she meant but wanted her to spell it out. “And what are they exactly?”
“I think you can guess, Keren.” She began ticking things off on her fingers. “The escort agencies, the party facilitation, orgies on yachts, sex cruises.” She looked at me long and hard. “And of course the high-end pornographic movie and magazine productions, plus the live sex shows for discerning private clients.”
I looked around at the opulent surroundings. “Must pay well.”
“Oh it does darling, it does. I made a decision then to foreclose my career in front of the camera and go behind the scenes — directing, producing, picking the right people for our productions.”
I sat in stunned silence for a moment. “You were a porn star? Bloody hell is there nothing you’ve not done?”
She shrugged. “Oh, I made a few racy little features in my time. Group, girl on girl, straight sex, the odd fetish thing obviously.”
“Wow, how many? God I’d love to see you in action!”
“Oh I never counted. Must be about fifty. I’m sure you can find them on the internet, but I have a full collection, of course. I’d happily show you one tonight… if.”
“If I sign up?”
“If you sign up. Are you utterly sure this is what you want, Keren? It’s not a step to be taken lightly.”
I stood and bowed my head. “Would Madame please accept the answer of the humble room service girl to her kind offer of becoming a pornographic movie star and escort?”
She gave me an amused look. “She would.”
“My answer is in the affirmative, Madame. Sign me up. There’s a USB port at the base of my spine. Charge me up and let me go and when I run down charge me up again. I’m ready, Vanessa.”
She also stood and took my hand. “Not so fast, young lady. One final stage, then we can sign on the dotted line.”
I went all Cornish on her and put on a sulky face. “Always summat else wi’ you, in’t there?”
“There is indeed.”
“What now?”
“Just come back tomorrow at the same time for an audition, that’s all. Be a formality darling. A formality.”
Danica’s final audition was with Serge. Did I dare dream? “Yeah, ok. I’ve got nothing better to do.” I bounced on the bed like an excited toddler. “Keren said yes, can Keren watch one of your porn movies now please, Madame?”
That earned me one of her looks. “Yes, I suppose Keren can, assuming she stops whining.” She led me back upstairs and we lay on the bed. She picked up a remote control from the bedside table and I gasped as a huge screen rose from the foot of the bed. It was utterly enormous. She pulled up a file menu and dug down a few levels until she found the required folder.
“Hmm — sixty four — more than I thought. Ready for my debut? It may seem ancient history to you given you were probably starting primary school around the time I made this, but it was still in the digital age.”
The picture on the vast screen was surprisingly sharp although the title graphics and music were a bit cheesy. I snuggled into her, unable to process that I was going to watch a movie the woman next to me had made some seventeen years earlier.
The title sequence showed snippets of the action to come and introduced the performers. As their names came onscreen, the image froze for a few seconds as the name then traversed a little unsteadily from one corner to the other. Orlando and Geraldine were introduced first, followed by Phoebe and Johnny Longue, both women taking impressive erections in their mouths. Then the screen was filled with a blonde-haired woman working on an even bigger cock. It was only when she flicked her hair out of the way I realised it was her and I gasped as she froze the scene with the remote.
“Yes, so I was blonde for a short while. Blame the white stuff.” She held up a hank of my hair. “Wonder what you’d look like blonde.”
“A right skank. Tried it once, never again. Might go for a few highlights, but we’ll leave Danica to be the blonde bombshell.” I tapped the remote. “Come on, let’s see the dirty old bugger in action!”
Her name appeared as she froze again, her tongue flicking at the engorged head of the glorious erection. Then the camera began to pan up the man’s athletic body and his big, meaty hand stroked Vanessa’s hair. She really did look strange as a blonde. As the camera reached his shoulders, she paused the action.
“Care to guess who?”
The chiselled jaw was just visible, the hair falling to his shoulders, a little less grey than it had been in the bar all those weeks ago. I envied Danica all the more and hoped he would also be my final audition tomorrow.
“Looks a bit like some old bloke I saw in the bar the other night. I think he was going to give a randy old granny a good seeing to. Looked a bit desperate for it, so she did.”
A bony elbow dug into my ribs. “I’ll randy old granny you, young lady — but she was a bit desperate for it. Serge Truffaut – forty-one and still one of the best – and I’m glad to say still as good a friend as he was back then. Shall I zoom through to our little sequence?”
In truth, it was a fairly standard suck/fuck movie, but the fact that the star of it was lying by my side made it all the more compelling. She was a dervish, all action, and he had her moaning in French and English as he took her from behind with long, steady strokes. After about nine minutes of standard action, he went up between her breasts. I squeezed her left one and pointed to the screen.
“Pre-enhancement then, I assume.”
She paused the playback and gave me a hurt look. “Oh, Miss Green — you wound me. I thought the surgeon’s work was undetectable! Now, may I proceed to the money shot or will I have to dig your ribs again?”
I signalled for her to continue and soon afterwards, an impressive spurt flew out from the end of Serge’s cock and landed on her shoulder, cheek and chin. The scene faded out with her licking her lips, smiling at the camera and the next segment began.
“Marks out of ten?”
“A strong seven from the Cornish judge. Could have been improved with a bit of cum play at the end and maybe a slo-mo replay of the pop-shot, but pretty damned good.”
“Must have read the director’s mind!” She wound it on to the end titles where the cum shot was included in slo-mo. “Extra point?”
“Yeah, make it an eight. Can I see another one?”
“No, you have to go home now and prepare for your big day. So not to put too fine a point on it, fuck right off, young Keren. Fuck right off and come back the same time tomorrow. No paperweights, no kinky boots required, as I said.
I stood by the bed and did my best Cornish accent again. It always seemed to amuse her. “Can I get dressed first, Miss. ‘Fore I goes home loike. Bit of a shock for guests seein’ staff member in the nood, loike. Moight get arrested!”
Her face was a picture. “Yes, Miss Green — please get dressed… then for God’s sake, please fuck right off!”
I dressed quickly and stood to attention once more, tugging at my forelock. “Fuckin’ roight off, I is, Madame. Then I’m comin’ back termorrer for a roight fuckin’!”
I could still hear her laughter as the door closed behind me.
Seven
“Excuse me Madame, is this where the audition is?”
“The audition?”
“Yeah, the one where the pretty little room-service girl gets fucked into the middle of next week by person – or persons – as yet unknown. That audition.”
“Oh, that audition? Why didn’t you say, silly girl?” She waved a hand airily at the mezzanine. “Somewhere up there, I think. And don’t mess up the sheets. They were only changed this morning.”
“Can’t guarantee it Madame — standard of sex I’m getting at the moment I do tend to squirt a lot.”
I began to make my way up the stairs when she spoke again. “Oh, I lied about something last night.”
“What would that be Madame?”
“The kinky boots. They are required. They’re by the bed. Fucking red-hot they are, you’ll look great in them. Just don’t kick him in the bollocks. Oh and by the way, there are cameras on all four corners of the bed. We won’t miss a thing when we play it back later.”
I did indeed look great in them, as well as the harness which I found a little easier to put on the second time, plus a pair of lacy, fingerless gloves.
When she saw me from the top of the stairs, she purred. “Fuck me, good enough to eat. Reddish-auburn hair, black leather, lovely little gloves. Can’t wait. Those gloves give a different feel on a nice big erection — nice contrast between flickering tongues and fingers and the slight catch of the material.” She pulled up a chair. “I was going to do a big dramatic reveal, but I think you’ve got this one covered, haven’t you? Out you come, Serge — she watched you last night doing me. Time for me to watch you doing her.”
My heart stood still as the bathroom door opened and he walked out in a black shirt and white chinos. He took my hand and brushed my fingers to his lips. “Enchanté, Keren.” He turned to Vanessa. “Une vrais rose anglaise.”
I hooked a finger into his waistband. “Enchanté aussi, Serge. Maintenant — viens ici.”
Twenty minutes later, I rose unsteadily from the bed, my face, breasts and tummy coated in the most impressive cum shot I had ever encountered. I had scooped up and swallowed a lot of it, but I was still covered in it. My legs were wobbly from a shattering, never-ending orgasm and the stiletto heels of the boots didn’t help. There were indentations in Serge’s buttocks where I had dug them in, urging him on.
Vanessa sat in her chair in silence, open-mouthed. I made for the bathroom door and was about to ignore her, but the devil caught hold of me and I flicked a tiny blob of cum from my fingers onto her cheek. She never even reacted.
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and couldn’t wait to see it all rain down on me once more onscreen. Every nerve-end seemed to tingle and the was a lovely warm glow between my legs where his mouth had worked on me before his huge erection stretched me even more than Christophe’s. There was even cum on my boots.
It took me an age to clean up and get it off my harness. Again, something I was going to have to get used to. I did the best I could and when I returned to the bedroom, I expected carnage.
I was wrong. Vanessa sat at the head of the bed, smoke curling up from her inevitable cigarette. There was no sign of Serge. She saw my disappointed look.
“Fleeting visit. Nice of him to drop in, don’t you think? If you listen carefully, you should be able to hear his helicopter. Flies it himself. Multi-talented man.” She pointed to a vast wet patch on the black silk sheets. “Told you not to mess them up.”
I walked to the side of the bed and glanced between her legs. “Says the lady dribbling all over the place like a leaky hosepipe.”
“Your fault.”
“Did I pass then?”
“One more judge to impress.” She pointed down below. “Make me squirt. I want to see you take another facial.”
I wanted to take one as much as she wanted to see me take it, but there was something of an impediment to my quest. “No can do, Madame.”
“Why not?”
“Because Madame has a fucking huge dildo stuck in her wet, slippery snatch — kind of blocking the way.”
She glanced down. “Oops, how did that get there? Be a darling, would you?”
When she came, I thought I was going to drown. The bed now really did look a mess and my second clean-up took almost as long as the first.
This time, when I came out of the bathroom she was waiting for me and hugged me with tears in her eyes. “Awesome, young lady. You are a force of nature and I know you are going to be a star. Serge was so impressed with his little English rose.”
I was impressed with my French stallion too, and I told her so.
She led me back to the bed and lay down on a relatively dry patch. “Right, let’s sign shall we?”
I looked around for a pen and paper thinking it may not be a good idea to put them anywhere near the bed.
“I do things differently, Keren. You must know that by now. Your turn to ‘viens ici’, so come here!”
Puzzled, I lay down next to her. It took a moment for me to realise what she was doing when her finger went back into her still wet pussy. She ran it along my tummy, just to the left of my belly-button and the penny dropped. After a few revisits and a few strokes of her forefinger, her initials were inscribed on my skin in little wet trails.
Smiling, I reciprocated and soon her tummy was adorned with a wet, wobbly ‘KMG.’
She held a wet fingertip up to me and I did the same to her. “Seal the deal.”
“Seal the deal.”
The sucking of fingers turned into a very long kiss, followed by the inevitable cigarette. “Welcome, Keren. You have just joined a very elite club.”
“Thanks, Vanessa. I can’t wait. I’ll give it my all, I promise. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t, nor will Danica.”
I looked her in the eye. “I won’t let you down, Vanessa — but please don’t let me or Danni down either. She and Tasha are the only two people in this Godforsaken world that have never let me down.”
She made a tiny cross with her fingernail over my heart. “I swear by all I hold dear, Keren Green. I look after my boys and girls like a tigress.”
I kissed her fingertip. “Good enough for me, Vanessa deLaunay.”
She lay back and picked up the remote. “Playback time.”
I snuggled in once more, barely able to conceal my excitement. “Yeah, go on then.”
I held my breath as the screen rose from the bed and she clicked the playback button. It was still so vivid in my mind. To see it all unfold again so quickly afterwards, when I could still feel the effects of our session on my body and see the mess we had made on the bed was one of the biggest turn-ons I could recall. Danica and I had recorded the odd little snippet on our phones, but soon deleted them after a couple of viewings.
From the moment I hooked my finger into his waistband and pulled him forward, to tottering towards the bathroom, we were both utterly riveted. Seeing myself take that huge, silky smooth head in my mouth brought it all back and I recalled the feel of my fingers as they wrapped around the shaft, contrasting with the gauzy gloves. Vanessa was right — they felt great and I was determined to keep them – along with the boots and the harness. I felt I had earned them.
It was a revelation watching my facial expressions as Serge licked at me, hearing my breathy little moans and grunts of pleasure. It was also clear I was giving him just as much pleasure with my mouth and as he entered me from behind for the first time, my mouth was wide open as I stared into the camera on the bedhead.
Vanessa played my coming over and over from every angle as I rode him reverse cowgirl, facing her primarily for her benefit. It also benefitted me as he went deeper than ever and I screamed the place down onscreen. Again, it was still so soon after that my throat felt raw from the screaming and my lips were tender from taking his big cock as far as I could. I knew Danica would have been able to go all the way, but there were still a few centimetres left when my eyes watered.
I glanced up at Vanessa as my onscreen-self spat out gobbets of saliva, gasping for breath. “How big?”
Never taking her eyes from the action, she deadpanned. “Big enough. Never checked.”
I had to agree but it would have been nice to know.
If she played my coming over and over, I lost count of how many times we replayed his cum shot. I had made sure I was close to one of the cameras for the best possible footage and it sent shivers down my spine to hear myself telling him in French and English where I wanted it.
“Sur mon visage. Dans ma bouche. C’mon, Serge — give it to me. On my tits, my face. Fucking give me it, you lovely hunk.”
Oh, did he give me it? The first spurt looped in a graceful arc to make touchdown just to the left of my nose. It splattered in a thick white rope down my cheek and neck and onto my shoulder. I wanked the huge thing hard and a second lot traced across my breasts, forming a perfect line with the first load. I dived in for his last drops, sucking him hard as he gasped for breath.
Vanessa’s hand not on the remote was now between my legs. I fingered her and we replayed it from every angle in real time and slo-mo until we were panting for breath once more.
It was one in the morning when I got back to our room, but Danica was waiting for me. She put a hand over her open mouth as once more I leaned on the doorpost.
“Oh, Greenie — what did they do to you babe?”
I slumped onto the bed. “I’ve been Serged.”
She mimed having initials written on my tummy with an anxious look. I took her fingers and placed them on the spot. A little tear ran down the side of her nose.
“Yay, I got one too. We’re gonna be porn stars, Greenie! Don’t suppose you’ve got anything left in the tank for poor, horny little Danica have you?”
I was sore, but I wanted more. “Always Danni Supernova. Always!”
It was a lovely, gentle end to a tumultuous day and I couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store for us.
Eight
When I was younger and things didn’t go my way, I would go into what my mother called ‘silly mode’. It was a defence mechanism — a way of dealing with something I couldn’t deal with sensibly. I hadn’t used it in years, but as I almost ran back from Villa Alpes Maritimes, I knew I was going into silly mode as soon as I saw Danica.
The bar was busy as the restaurants were about to open. Danica saw my stricken look as I came back in from my room service delivery, but it was a good ten minutes until I got a chance to speak to her after another delivery inside Le Chateau.
She was deputising for the duty manager and had been giving me my delivery orders, which pleased her immensely. Finally she was able to sidle over. “Whassup, look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I felt like crying. “I think I did, Danni. She’s gone!”
“Gone?”
That was my trigger for silly mode. “Yes, fucking gone. Worth five letters in Scrabble — a polite way of saying she’s fucked off. Vanessa deLaunay has left the building. Our dreams are in tatters and the bitch that swore she would never let us down has just dropped us from a great height into a pile of dogshit.”
For a moment, she resembled a stricken goldfish. “Are you sure?”
“Well unless she’s transformed into an ancient French crone with bad breath and a hump like Quasimodo’s mother…”
“Oh fuck. I thought it was odd — not her usual champagne.”
“Oh fuck indeed. What we gonna do, Danni?”
We had no more chance to ponder our fate as another delivery came in. The last half hour of my shift dragged and I was just about to go back to the room and cry my eyes out when Danica called me over.
“Sorry, Greenie — last delivery of the day. Looks like you’re going up in the world. Suite Cap Ferrat!”
Great — kick a girl when she’s down. I find out my promises have been broken then have to deliver not one, but three bottles of champagne to the top floor eyrie — the owner’s private bolt-hole. I had longed to see it, but it felt like a kick in the teeth after what had just happened.
I loaded up my trolley without much enthusiasm and snapped at Danica. “How the fuck do I get up there anyway?”
“Hey, easy tiger. Not my fault. We’ll talk about it later, yeah?” She tapped at her pad. “Left hand elevator. A few more taps and you’ll be good to go. Might see someone famous, never know.”
The copper bracelet on my wrist buzzed, her reprogramming complete. I apologised to her and rolled the trolley towards the elevator not caring if it was Tom Cruise or Johnny Depp in residence. Vanessa deLaunay was gone and I was bereft.
It seemed strange to be whisked past the infinity pool floor. When the door opened, I was confronted by a curved glass tunnel some twenty metres long. It reminded me of a walk-through at an aquarium, except that above me were fluffy white clouds, slightly distorted in the curvature of the glass. All the weird and wonderful creatures were a long way below me in the Med.
The door opened as I approached and wheeled the trolley into an area that made Villa Alpes Maritimes look like my council estate bedroom back in Cornwall. Modern art adorned the walls and I was sure if I looked at a few I would recognise some of the names from a visit to the Pompidou Centre in Paris a few years earlier.
The layout was similar to ‘VAM’, with a mezzanine bedroom overhead and the walled-off bathroom next to it. The scale was mind-boggling and the view even better from the elevated height. I had no idea where I should leave the champagne until I saw a big notice on a low table. There were three words and an arrow pointing towards a door in the left wall.
Dans le réfrigérateur
Great — not even a ‘please’ and I wasn’t even going to see anyone, famous or otherwise. The kitchen area was vast and the ice buckets easily fitted into the massive fridge. I unloaded and wheeled the trolley back out, getting ready for a damned good cry. No doubt somewhere over the headland to the west, Vanessa deLaunay was on her yacht in Monaco harbour, straddling Serge and laughing at the two ditzy little fools along the coast crying into their cheap wine.
I took a final look around the stunning place and headed back towards the door wondering who the recipient of my delivery was. I supposed I would never know. I was halfway across the floor when I stopped in my tracks at a voice from the mezzanine.
“Not like you to leave so soon Miss Green. Aren’t you going to stop and say hello?”
I almost tripped over the trolley in shock. I turned and gazed up at her leaning nonchalantly on the railing, grinning down at me, fingers waggling in a little wave. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I stared at her for a long moment before I found my voice. I put my hands on my hips and glared at her indignantly.
“May a humble serving girl say that Madame is a right fucking piece of work?”
“Why so?” She made for the stairs and began to descend.
“Because Madame scared the living shit out of said humble serving girl. Fuck, Vanessa – I was in bits. Danica was in bits. We thought you had done the dirty on us.”
She shook her head as she approached me. “Danica is a fine little actress, Keren. She was in on the deception. She just called me to say you were on the way and that the new incumbent of ‘VAM’ did not meet with your approval. It was all just a little bit of fun to wind you up. Do you forgive me?”
I was too relieved to be angry and put on a pretend pet lip. “I suppose so, but Danni is getting her nipple rings pulled very hard.” I hugged her. “You scared me, Vanessa deLaunay. And worst of all, fucking Quasimodo’s mother in ‘VAM’ never even tipped me.”
She stepped back. “How rude of her, but first world problems, hey? Sorry Keren – blame my warped sense of humour.” She looked around. “Not bad, is it?”
I followed her gaze. “Just like Redruth, Vanessa. Cambourne’s riddled with shit holes like this. To be honest, I thought I was back home for a moment. Bloody hell, I know you’re bosom buddies with the General Manager, but how the hell did you wangle an invite up here?”
She stood with her tongue in her cheek, shaking her head, a little smile on her face. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
I did a facepalm. “Oh… my… fucking… Lord. The reason you act like you own the place is because… oh shit, how did I not realise it before? How the fuck?”
She held her arms out. “Hey, the penny drops at last. Welcome to my winter home, Keren. I think you might be seeing a fair bit of it. Come with me and I’ll explain all.”
I followed her in stunned silence towards the massive window. Lights were coming on along the seafront and it looked like a picture postcard. As we gazed out, an arm wound around my shoulders.
Her voice was soft and wistful for once. “In the early nineties, long before I met Pierre, he bought this little island from an English couple. They inherited it from the wife’s French mother and it had fallen on hard times. They were unable to afford the upkeep and Pierre stepped in with a very reasonable offer – around ten million dollars. They snapped his hand off.” She was quiet for a moment. “Weird thing is, some girl who says she is their daughter keeps contacting me claiming they were defrauded. The girl must be delusional. I have the documents and it was a fair and equitable sale.”
She took a deep breath. “Anyway, never mind her. Pierre built the place up over the next decade and turned it in to a successful resort. When I came on the scene, I took over the running of the place and it became my little vanity project. I added the infinity pool, housed his collection of vintage cars around the place and gave it the sixties feel I loved. Twelve years ago, we added this little rooftop eyrie and the atrium and achieved our coveted third Michelin star for the main restaurant.”
There was a long silence and I knew something bad was coming. “See those rocks out to the east, about a hundred metres away. Look like shark’s teeth.”
I nodded. They looked vicious and nasty and the incoming tide swept around them in a maelstrom in an otherwise tranquil sea. Her voice was chillingly calm. “One year later, I stood on this very spot and watched his brand new powerboat explode on those rocks, Keren.”
My blood ran cold as she tapped the thick glass. “Heard it through this – two inches thick and allegedly soundproofed.” She banged her fist on it so hard I feared she would break a bone. “The fuck is it soundproofed? Like a paperweight on the bridge of a nose, I will go to my grave with that sound echoing in my ears.”
I held her close. “Jeez, Vanessa – I had no idea. Oh my God, that is so awful. What the hell happened?”
A single tear ran down her cheek. “Probable cardiac arrest. There wasn’t much left to determine the cause. All speculation. That cross on the tallest rock was made from all that was left of his boat.”
It was barely visible in the gathering darkness and I shivered as I thought of what she must have gone through. We stood in silence for long minutes and any thoughts of getting her back for her earlier deception were long gone from my mind. I didn’t know what to say, so I kept my thoughts to myself and held her to me gently, her head on my shoulder.
At last, she looked up at me. “So, that is ‘how the fuck’, Miss Green. This is now my own personal playground and I use it to recruit my boys and girls. A lot of rich people pay me a lot of money to stay here and help me maintain my lifestyle. I miss Pierre more than words can say, but life must go on and I intend to live it to the fullest for as long as I possibly can. I hope you and Danica will be around for a long time to help me achieve that.”
I wiped away a tear of my own. “It will be our privilege, Vanessa. That must have been hard – thank you for confiding in me.”
She set herself straight. “As you know, I value honesty. Danica knows, as does everyone else who is lucky enough to get my naughty little signature on their skin. Right, enough maudlin talk, young lady. There is work to be done and a Sur la Mer uniform is not going to cut the mustard tonight.”
Oh shit, she was off on one again. What was I in for this time? “What have you got planned now, Madame deLaunay the Fourth?”
She pointed over my shoulder. “Keren, this is a good friend of mine, Leonie Oliver. Leonie will be dressing you and doing your makeup – making you look stunning for what is about to unfold.”
I turned to see a pretty black girl with beaded corn rows and braids halfway down her back walking towards me. She had the most beautiful smile and held out a welcoming hand. “Bonsoir, Keren. I am delighted to meet you. Please come with me.”
When I looked back at Vanessa, she was gazing out to sea, lost in her own little world. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. Leonie’s French accent was warm and seductive. Like Danica, her English was flawless. “Give her a moment. Come with me and let me get you ready for your big moment, Keren.”
Once more I was confused. “Erm, what big moment, Leonie?”
She took my hand and led me towards a door next to the one where I had deposited the champagne in the fridge. Her infectious grin lit up her face. “You are about to make your first porn movie of course and I am delighted to be your make-up girl and dresser. When we get started, I will switch to second camera. Come on, let’s get you looking even lovelier than you are now.”
Stunned did not even cover it, and when I saw the results of Leonie’s work half an hour later, I was struggling to think straight. I gushed my thanks at her, not able to believe that the girl staring back at me from the mirror was twenty-three year old Keren Morwenna Green from Redruth, Cornwall. I prayed I would not cry to spoil the effect of her exquisite make-up.
My eyes were adorned with a smoky, silvery-grey shadow that made them shine. I was assured that neither it, nor the dark red lipstick would run or smudge no matter how torrid things got.
I wore the boots I had worn when I was with Serge, and short, red leather gloves. There was no underwear beneath my dress and the sleek, silky fabric felt so good against my skin, I was getting damp down below wondering what was about to unfold.
The dress was in the same shade as my eye-shadow — silvery-grey and it shone in the last rays of the sun as they slanted in over the Med through the side window. A strap ran over my left shoulder and the fabric slanted away down over my breasts leaving my back almost bare. There was no left sleeve and the right sleeve went from my wrist to just below my shoulder and was attached to the body of the dress by a fold of black silk. I was utterly blown away and hoped I would get to keep it.