tagNovels and NovellasPalmer Ch. 04

Palmer Ch. 04

byhal_tee©

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world – thesoundandfury. And check out his new novel – Models and Super Spies. Thanks Ken, not only for your editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 4: Roxanne

Dominic DeVere's brain was working overtime as he drove through the heavy, evening traffic. One of his many strengths was that his mind worked in a cold, logical manner whenever he was confronted with a issue. Eliminate any emotional or personal considerations. Establish the facts. Consider all options.

Then, take the necessary action to eliminate the problem. Immediately and ruthlessly

His problem right now was Roxanne Lopez. She'd become a threat. The woman could blow apart George Blair's chances of becoming Prime Minister. Added to that, she was one of only a select few who could connect DeVere to Blair. Those were the facts.

His conversation with Roxanne hadn't convinced him. He'd explicitly told her she was to stop seeing George Blair. Her initial reaction wasn't to his liking. And initial reactions meant so much.

Then there was Blair. He'd become more and more smitten with the woman. Obsessed with her. DeVere understood that, Roxanne was unique among women. But Blair's reaction had frustrated him, too.

Yes, he'd agreed to consider giving up the beauty. Consider, for God's sake! As with all men with power, Blair was fiercely protective of his independence. Nobody told him what to do. That worried DeVere.

He couldn't push the issue further without making it a battle of wills. Yet Blair's emotional make-up could see him make the wrong decision.

And despite his instruction to Roxanne, if Blair pursued her, she was likely to keep on seeing him. In DeVere's mind, the conclusion was quite clear.

His liaison with her tonight would be different. Bitter sweet. His body already had goosebumps from the anticipation of what pleasures lay ahead. It always did. There would never be another Roxanne.

But then, there was afterwards.

The meeting he was closing in on to prior to visiting the beautiful woman was important. Very important. It would result in 'afterwards' being taken care of.

It wouldn't take long. Half an hour at most. Then he'd continue his journey to spend the rest of the evening with the sensual redhead. It would be their last time together. It would be her last time with anyone.

***

Kelli gently pushed the room door behind her as she returned to her suite. Even now, her body tingled. So many firsts! The coke she'd taken, the booze she'd consumed, and the way Brooke touched her between her legs all contributed to her emotional high.

Leaning back against the door, her heart was beating as if it was about to leap from her chest. The tears welled up long before they began to roll down her cheeks. She'd moved into a different world.

Erin and Brooke had accompanied her in the limo, where they'd shared a bottle of champagne. It was business as usual. Nothing was said about Kelli's first girl-girl hook-up. Talk was about relaxing that night. "Go set up another massage, darling," Erin suggested. "You need to recharge your batteries."

After dropping her off at the hotel, the other two continued on to the airport. They'd return tomorrow morning. In reality, there was no reason that the short, curvy model should return to London with Erin, but the older woman knew how impetuous Brooke could be.

If she left her in Edinburgh, the model would be all over Kelli like a rash. This was too important. She needed to take things step-by-step, like a choreographer charting a complicated routine. And besides, she would be Kelli's first, not Brooke.

Tomorrow's another big day.

The photo shoot had been a wonderful success. Both Erin and Brooke had told her she'd performed like an established star. That praise meant everything to Kelli.

She moved away from the door, heading for the fridge. For a few moments she was tempted to take one of the alcoholic drinks, but sensibly refrained. In her condition, the chilled water made more sense.

The comfortable chair curled around her lithesome frame as she drank half the bottle. Staring out of the window, she saw nothing other than the pictures in her mind. Brooke featured in them all.

Kelli had never thought of women in that way before. Never had any lesbian tendencies. And yet the feelings the strawberry blonde Erin had stirred in her during her London audition had come bubbling to the fore in her shoot with the delectable young model.

Nor had she stepped outside of the bounds of her marriage before, even though Jack's continuous absences frequently left her feeling alone and horny. That had been becoming a bigger problem for her.

Of course she loved her husband, but she wasn't prepared to continue with that lifestyle for much longer.

Suddenly, she began to rationalise her behaviour. What could her husband expect? This was his fault, really. Part of the thrill of the modelling opportunity was that it might help redirect their lives, their marriage. But that was impossible if Jack wouldn't meet her halfway.

She'd loved every second of the day. Yes, even the orgasm Brooke had given her. Her only concern was that it had happened in front of Erin. And Chad. That hadn't mattered at the time, but now she realised he'd continued to click away throughout the session.

God, he'd have some great photos of her face when she came!

She grew a little moist at the thought. Fuck, she was even becoming turned on by the realisation!

Okay, think rationally. What's done is done.

The most important aspect was that Erin had been absolutely fine with her afterwards. More than that, the older woman's eyes had gleamed in a sexual way. Could she have been turned on by what had happened?

Then there was Jack. Was allowing another woman to make her cum actually cheating on him? Of course it wasn't. Besides, she'd done nothing in return, just accepted the orgasm that Brooke had given her.

And, there was no way he'd ever find out.

She was a little calmer. Glancing at her watch, she had an hour before her massage. Her emotions were still a mess, but maybe a pair of hands working on her body would help? She laughed.

Afterwards, she'd ring the person who mattered most in her future. She wanted to ensure that Erin wasn't having second thoughts...

***

The London Eye, also known as the Millennium Wheel, sat on the South Bank of the River Thames, between the Westminster and Hungerford bridges. The location suited both parties.

At first glance, the two men seemed to have no connection. Two individual tourists coming together by accident to share the same capsule. They didn't speak until it left the ground.

"Ciao, Mr. Devere. What can I do for you this time?" the pock faced man eventually asked. "Or rather," he added, with a chilling laugh, "Who can I do for you?"

DeVere's cold eyes appraised the assassin. It wasn't the first time he'd employed the middle aged Italian. It wouldn't be the last.

He only used the best. Marco Giovanni was the best. He embodied all the qualities you would expect from a Sicilian - single mindedness, the strength of a bull and a terrier like determination. Despite being only five-seven, his lack of height had always made him even more determined to succeed.

After their initial meeting, DeVere had been unsure. At first sight, the Sicilian looked a contradiction – a small, ugly man, wearing an impeccable, expensive, Italian suit. He loved his designer clothes.

What DeVere had learned with that first job was not to judge a book by its cover. Since then, he'd been the man Dominic DeVere turned to whenever he needed someone taken care of. And all such contracts were delivered with the same high degree of efficiency.

"I have a problem," the grey haired man told him.

Giovanni laughed. That chilling laugh. "Si, I know that, Mr. DeVere. Otherwise we wouldn't be meeting. Who is it?"

"The girl."

"Ah, yes," Giovanni smiled. "The girl. The one you share with George Blair. Roxanne Lopez, I believe."

A coldness ran through DeVere. Giovanni had a memory like an elephant. "Blair knows nothing about my relationship with the girl."

The pock faced Italian laughed again. It was an eerie sound. "Nor her other assignations, no doubt. But you and I know differently, Mr. DeVere, do we not?"

DeVere didn't reply. There were very few people who made him nervous. This man was one of them. But Giovanni was a professional. He knew exactly where the boundaries were and observed them perfectly.

"Why, Mr, Devere? Why has the girl become such an embarrassment?"

DeVere stared thoughtfully at the view from the large glass window, and then slowly turned on his heels towards the assassin. His eyes – what colour where they - grey, green, blue? – his chameleon eyes were cold. "That's nothing to do with you," he eventually responded.

"Si," Giovanni agreed. "But then she will die by my hand, not yours. You know I prefer to understand the background."

DeVere nodded. He knew that Giovanni soaked in as much information as he could. The assassin put two and two together. Understood motives. Knew the bigger picture. It made him a dangerous employee. Eventually, he'd know too much. Then...

But that thought was for another day.

"Blair won't give her up?" the Italian prompted.

DeVere snorted. "The man can be a fool at times. What else can I tell him? That she's a prostitute? I introduced them, for God's sake. If he keeps going after her, the media will find out. Boom... that will be that!"

"Then you must keep her away from him," the Italian thoughtfully mused, rubbing his hand across his clean-shaven head. "Is this the only way?"

DeVere looked Giovanni in the eyes. His stare was cold. Ruthless. "Would I have contacted you otherwise? Usual terms?"

***

Palmer stretched out on the couch, slipping piece after piece of chocolate into his mouth between sips of hot coffee. One large wrapper lay on the floor beside him, clear evidence he'd eaten too much.

That hadn't prevented him from breaking into the second large bar. Taffy would be proud of him.

He wondered when he'd be seeing Roxanne? What meal would she cook for him? What might happen afterwards? Shifting uncomfortably on the couch, he adjusted the erection forcing itself against his jeans.

Stop it, he told himself. These thoughts were unfair on Kelli. Control those emotions, buddy, they were unhealthy!

As the recorder clicked, he slipped on the tiny headphones. Taffy had told him to listen for the prompt rather than sit with his ears covered all night.

Roxanne was singing as she went about her business, filling in any forgotten lyrics with a soft hum before bursting back into song again. Her footsteps told him she was moving from room to room.

A few moments later he heard the sound of Carole King. Tapestry, if he wasn't mistaken. That was quite a coincidence. It was the first album he and Kelli had bought, a tribute to a favourite from their youth.

Closing his eyes, Palmer recalled the first time he and his then wife-to-be had made love - in his car, listening to the music. They'd enjoyed a day at the beach and Kelli was still in that string bikini. It had captured his imagination and captivated his cock.

She'd removed the top as he drove, kneeling up on her seat to feed him a breast and that wonderful, deep pink nipple. He'd had no choice. He stopped the car for their safety and taken her in the back seat whilst other cars whistled by.

The indulgences of youth!

Life seemed easier then. When had things changed? As he'd risen through the ranks, he'd needed to work longer and longer hours. Their relationship had undoubtedly suffered as a result.

Maybe Kelli's new job would provide the spark they both needed? Or maybe he should buy her another string bikini?

The sound of bath water running jerked his thoughts back to the present. His mind left behind the recollection of his wife's stunning breasts and danced instead to his imagination of Roxanne's. He could visualize her slipping the tease T-shirt over her head, pulling down those tight low-rise jeans, and stepping naked into the bath water.

His cock grew even harder at the thought.

***

The scented bath oil made Roxanne shiver as she sat on the edge of the tub. The waves her paddling hand created brought more and more bubbles to the surface. The Jacuzzi, with its low hum, did the rest.

Turning to the mirrored wall, she sang along to the music as she swayed, wickedly imagining her next-door neighbour was peering through the mirror.

I feel the earth move under my feet... I feel the sky tumbling down. I feel my heart start trembling... whenever you're around. Oh, baby, when I see your face...

Her normally routine undressing turned into a teasing striptease. As she sang, she twirled the T-shirt into the air before allowing it to softly float across to the door.

Her hands stroked her breasts, sliding under the full globes as she traced the sculptured curves with the very tips of her fingers. Taking each chocolate nipple between thumb and forefinger, she pinched and teased them until they were hard.

Like the show, Jack Palmer, she asked the mirror?

Her face turned more serious as her imagination grew. Would he be masturbating as she stripped for him?

With exaggerated slowness, she unbuttoned her hip-huggers. She tugged first on one side and then the other, teasing the mirror – and herself, she could admit – with the white straps of her thong. She dragged the tight denim down her legs, shimmying provocatively with each move. Yeah, she could admit, she turned herself on.

Pulling the jeans from one foot and then the next, she threw them at the mirror. Come and get me, Jack.

She smiled at the telltale damp patch on her white thong as she ripped them from her legs, swinging the lacy garment around a finger before catapulting them against the wall. Whipping around, she presented her firm and taut ass to the mirror. The delicious chuckle she gave matched the wiggle as she swung it from side to side like a stripper.

I just lose control... down to my very soul... I get hot and cold all over...

After an elegant toe tested the water, she gracefully sank down into the bubbles, allowing the scented water to envelop her. Lying back, her eyes closed, allowing her to luxuriate in the sensations of the rippling waves caressing her breasts, stomach, legs and thighs.

Sexy...

But then, that was an almost permanent condition for the redhead. It was just a question of different degrees.

Her thoughts returned to the man next door. Handsome, Jack Palmer. With a soft purr, she slipped a hand down her flat stomach, over her smooth mound, stopping only to answer the jutting little bud that was crying out to be touched.

Make me cum, Jack Palmer, her mind moaned.

Even as the thought hit her, she pulled her hand away. It was Dominic who was visiting her tonight, not her next-door neighbour. This would never do!

***

"It's Kelli." Jack Palmer's wife gave a happy sigh at being able to speak to the Agency Head. The massage had helped. So had the bourbon. She paced across the room, holding the phone tight against her ear. "I wanted to call to make sure..."

Erin's American accent filled in the silence during Kelli's hesitation. "Make sure of what, darling?"

The blonde's heart was pounding. "The shoot... what happened in the shoot... I hope it didn't spoil..."

The older woman's laugh rang in her ear. "The shoot was wonderful, darling. Everything we wanted and more."

"That's good," Kelli responded, feeling the relief flowing through her. "So... Brooke and I..."

The laugh rang out again, only louder. "Surely you aren't worried about that, darling? My goodness, do you know how many times a model has needed relief at the end of a session? It's only natural."

Natural? Did Erin DeVere say it was only natural?

"In fact, darling, I think I needed relief from just watching you. And I know Brooke did, afterwards. It's such a shame we couldn't have stayed in Edinburgh with you."

Kelli sighed with relief. She hadn't blown it after all.

"But don't worry," the older woman continued. "Brooke and I took care of each other's needs on the plane."

Oh... my... God!

Kelli grew wet at the thought at the thought of the two women pleasuring each other. Her fingers ran down the front of her jeans and she began to stroke herself through the material. How could she be feeling this way when she wasn't into girls?

"Erin, I'm married," she found herself saying for some reason she couldn't think of. Even as the words escaped her mouth, they sounded ridiculous.

"You're married?" the Agency Head sarcastically laughed. "So am I, darling. But women are okay. That's not cheating."

Women aren't cheating. Her own rationalizations were being confirmed. Erin was right! A great weight had been plucked from her mind. She rubbed her crotch harder at the memory of Brooke's pleasuring fingers, followed by an image of the sassy, young model and Erin DeVere relieving one another.

Erin wasn't saying anything she hadn't thought since returning to her room. She just hadn't wanted to admit to those thoughts. She hadn't betrayed her husband. She'd just allowed herself to enjoy another woman's touch.

Her blush increased. Her orgasm began to bubble. Why shouldn't she allow a beautiful young woman to pleasure her? What did Jack expect? If he wasn't willing to stop working those long hours, he was going to kill their marriage. Already was!

"Even with a male model," the Agency Head continued. "Sometimes its necessary. In the modelling world, it's not cheating. It's only sex, darling."

Only sex?

Her spare hand jerked down the zip of her jeans and her fingers found their way inside her thong. She began to breathe more heavily as she rubbed her middle finger up and down her wet opening. She tried to cling on to what Erin was saying but right at that moment she'd just uncovered the slippery bud of her clit.

There... that's the spot...

"That's it, darling," she heard Erin's voice somewhere in the back of her mind. "Let yourself go. You're nearly there, darling. You need this."

My God, Erin knew she was masturbating! She'd heard the sexual heaviness of her breathing. For a second she paused, her embarrassment threatening to spill over.

"Touch yourself, darling. I am, too. I want you to cum."

The shockwaves hit the blonde. She wasn't hearing this. Was she? Her fingers began to move again. Harder, faster. She couldn't hold back.

"Cum, darling," Erin implored. "Let me hear. Cum..."

Kelli dropped her head down onto the table as she fell off the cliff. Her ass lifted from the chair. They weren't her fingers inside her sex, nor Brooke's. They were Erin's.

Her whimpering scream pierced the room.

***

DeVere circled the apartment block, checking for anything unusual. Satisfied, he swung the car around and parked in a nearby side street. Close enough to be convenient. Distant enough to be unnoticed.

Glancing at his watch, he nodded to himself. He had three hours.

The day had been eventful and the decision had been made. No going back. Images of the beautiful redhead had dominated his mind since he had met Giovanni.

His thoughts were dominated by happier times... memories of how it all began... recollections of their time together among the super-rich and powerful... images of their private time together.

Tonight, that came to an end. But not before he'd enjoyed her one final time.

Pulling out his cell phone, he sent the text. It announced his arrival. Two minutes later, he received one back. Smiling, he switched off his phone and slipped into the building, using the key card he held.

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