The Chauffeuse

She heard him undo his fly, felt his hands move round to the back of her head, pull her down. Her lips bumped onto his hot, rubbery cock and she sighed as he stuffed her mouth with it, holding her head firmly in place while he slid it in and out, unceremoniously fast and furious while she made little helpless, simpering noises in her throat, arms outstretched and hands fluttering. She didn't have to do anything to please him, just keep her mouth open. And her throat. He was rather long and very thick, and he was pumping powerfully in a full range of motion. The guttural noises coming out of him were extraordinary.

He let go of her head suddenly and she let his cock go with a loud 'plop' as she felt his big hands grasp her under her armpits. She rose up and clambered blindly on top of him, falling over him as he shifted position. She found herself spread over him, toppled forward, felt the rough grizzle of his beard and the smoothness of his lips and tongue between her breasts. Then she felt his hands squeezing on them, pushing her upright and back, until her wet, nude pussy came in contact with the proud curve of his shaft. Reaching back, she guided the head between her lips and to the entrance of her sex, and sighed again with utter relief as she felt him thrust up hard and into her.

"That's it, yeah! Ride Daddy's cock, baby! Ride the horsey! Clippity clop, clippity clop! Ride it! Yeah! Clop-clop-clop-clop; fuck it, fuck yourself... Ride it hard now, ride it, you cock-sucking-babywhore-slut!! YEAH!! RIDE ME!!"

She sighed and poured milk over the Rice Krispies. He'd probably never speak to her again.

They were in full 'horsey' mode when it started. Samantha couldn't see a thing but, really, she should have known something was up. Maybe she could have stopped it, driven away. She knew she couldn't blame it on the mask, or anything else: she'd known. The truth was, she'd been in denial through the whole thing. And she knew now it wasn't really about protecting her Mum, either. But at the time, she'd been so confused...

At first she thought she'd slammed down on him too hard and broken it or something. But, at the time, he was writhing so hard she figured that couldn't be it: if he was in pain, he wouldn't be moving that much. So then she thought maybe he was just having too good a time and she should stay with it. After all, his gyrations did feel pretty good.

She groaned as she pictured what the photographer must have seen... the hottest looking babe in London obliviously pounding her pussy up and down on Sir William's shaft, her tits swinging wildly above his lasciviously grinning face... Sir William having it off with a saucy, young, masked nymphet in a lover's lane, in the back of a Roller. Sir William gaping in horror at the grinning photographer circling the limo.

She'd only vaguely heard him call her name. She had recognized the panic in his voice, but it just sounded to her like he was afraid of cumming too fast. Or maybe, more likely, she had known the photographer was there, and it had excited her even more. She closed her eyes and groaned as she remembered how she'd responded.

"Yes, Daddy! Buck, horsey, buck! Babygirl's riding a big cock for Daddy! Oh, big... God, you're so hard... Oh God..."

She could indeed feel Sir William bucking hard. He'd been trying to dislodge her. But her blood was roaring and he sounded distant as she felt the first clenching undertow of an encroaching orgasm. His wild jerking and thrusting had been fantastic.

She was too far gone to register his pleading, only dimly aware of her own wailing growing louder and louder with the rising tide about to overcome her. They had both been screaming, at that point.

"SAMANTHA!"

"DAD-DEEEEEE!"

She had been flailing the air when he grasped her by her waist and tried to lift her and throw her backwards, while simultaneously heaving himself upright. Completely misunderstanding his intention, or maybe understanding too well, she'd pulled him onto her as she flew onto her back and locked her legs around his, all the while thrusting wildly on his pussy-locked tool. Basically they'd treated the photographer to a new position, with an even better view of Sir William's face. And there had been nothing he could do about it.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy... Oh... oh, oh... please, Bill, please... I'm gonna cum... give it to me... oh, give it to me..."

She had heard Bill scream in frustration and felt him bury his head between her breasts. And then she'd felt him lunging hard and fast as he'd given in to the maddening, roiling urging of his most primitive instinct: to ejaculate as hard and high into her as he could. Her flopping feet had slapped at his buttocks until her whole body had stiffened and she let loose a scream in an agonized paroxysm of shuddering orgasm. She'd felt him erupt inside her and in that moment he'd blown away the entire world, with all its photographers, and all the other dark things hidden in the back of her mind. Things she suppressed guiltily as she drove a silent and glowering Sir William back to his flat. He hadn't even said goodnight.

She kept a list of all the cars in the Diplomatic Corps' fleet in the valet compartment. Next to each car on the list was a box. Most of the boxes contained a check mark and a date, with a name alongside each.

A mile or so after dropping Bill off and quietly driving away, she had parked under a streetlight and taken out the list. She mechanically put a check against one of the Rolls Royce Silver Spur II Touring Limousines, and wrote "Sir William Rice, 21/4/06". She usually felt ecstatic about crossing off another limo, but not tonight. Tonight, it didn't seem so much fun.

*******

The thought of how she'd colluded in trapping Bill sat heavily in the pit of her stomach. She was staring miserably at her untouched bowl of soggy Rice Krispies when Dr. Barrie called around 8:30 a.m.

"Whoohoo! Babe, you are sohot! I just got the pics. Wanna come over and see?"

"Thank you, Dr. Barrie. I'd rather not."

There was a brief pause on the line.

"You okay, love?" He sounded soft, genuinely concerned.

"I'm very well, thank you. Sir."

"I see." Another pause, which Samantha broke this time.

"Is there anything you need from me this morning, Sir?"

"Actually, yes. There is. I have a missing person situation. As you know, I'm chairing a meeting here at 10:30 a.m. but I've just heard the chief negotiator for the Greek side didn't make it back to his hotel last night. He hasgot to be here. Can you go pick him up, if I can track him down?"

"Certainly, Sir. I am, after all, at your fucking service."

"Why, thank you, Miss Kane. I'm delighted we're on the same page. Right now, I simplymust track down Alcander Pagonis. I'll give you an address as soon as I have one. Understood?"

"Yes!" She hung up, slowly poured the cereal down the waste disposal, flipped the switch, and grimly muttered 'whoo-fucking-hoo' as the unit ate her breakfast.

The telephone rang again about ten minutes later. "He's in Soho: 60 Brewer Street. It's an apartment building. Alcander Pagonis, okay? Get him here. Now. Please."

He hung up before she could ask any questions. She stared resentfully at the phone. He was colder than a meat locker.

But she couldn't think about that now. She had to get to the Corps garage, pick up the limo and get to Soho. That would take about forty minutes; then she had to find this Pagonis person and get back to the hotel. If she didn't run into traffic, she'd make it in time. She'd sort it all out later.

******* Samantha pulled into the quiet, dead-end street and quickly spotted the small building of converted flats. It was inconspicuous and drab between the offices, off-track betting parlors, and sandwich shops. A tanned, balding, stocky man in his mid-fifties wearing a disheveled suit was sitting on the pavement curb, feet in a pool of rainwater, arms cradled around himself. He was rocking like one of the prayerful at the Wailing Wall; any one of whom could probably hear him wailing with them at that moment, she thought, as she cut the engine and got out of the limo. He was astonishingly loud.

As she approached, Samantha watched him twist around and raise his broad, hairy-backed hands in supplication to an upstairs window. She came to an abrupt stop as he repeatedly bellowed a single, howling word; it hung on the thin morning air and raised the hair on the back of her neck.

"Oh-dehhhh-ssa! Oh-dehhhhh-ssaaaaaa!"

A window immediately opened wide above him, a wild-eyed, bushy haired brunette with a full, barely covered bosom leered down, disappeared momentarily and then reappeared grinning maniacally. She tossed back her hair, heaved a bucket up to the windowsill, and a cascade of what Samantha hoped was water flowed as grandly and purposefully as the Niagara Falls. It streamed directly onto the demented man below. The liquid was followed by the bucket. It bounced off the gasping man's head with a hollow 'tock'. She had good aim, Samantha noted.

"Parte makrya apo me! Get away from me! Stay away from me! Aaaaaaarrgh! " The scream cut through the background drone of rush hour traffic and then the sash window slammed down. It didn't deter the bellowing and now dripping man below.

"Se latrevo! S' agapo! Eime eroteumenos me 'sena! Odessa! I love you! Oh-dehhhhh-ssaaaaa!"

Samantha walked back to the limo, retrieved a large towel, and calmly re-approached the sobbing wreck.

"Alcander Pagonis?"

His lifted his craggy, dripping face, blinking and unfocused. He was looking blindly into the sun, and all he could see was the brightening morning light bouncing off her smooth blonde hair.

"Eh?"

"Alcander Pagonis? I was sent to collect you, Sir."

"Eh?"

Samantha sat down beside him on the curb, took a corner of the towel and softly wiped his cheeks. His round brown eyes focused momentarily and widened. He gasped, and then suddenly crushed her to his wet chest.

"An angel! My wish has come true! Yes! Yes, take me now! Take me away! I am ready!"

"Okay. Right then. Um, let go of me, and we'll be on our way."

"Good, yes. It is time! But then, you know that. That's why you're here, yes?"

"Yes, Sir, that's exactly right. And you don't want to be late, do you? So let go of me. Now."

"Oh.Signomi! Sorry. Um, what happens next? I've read a lot about this, but nobody really knows when their time comes, do they?"

"Well, you get into my limo over there, and then I drive you."

"We go in a limo?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Katapliktiki epityxia! Wow! I suppose when it happens, the mind plays tricks. I've read about that. It's okay. I accept."

Samantha suddenly realized how fragile the man's state actually was.

"Well, that's important," she told him slowly. "It's very important that you are as prepared as you can be. Calm. You do feel calmer now, don't you?"

Alcander got to his feet, dabbed himself ineffectively with the towel, and then toddled down the street a little behind Samantha as she took him by the hand and led him gently to the limo.

"Oh yes. Very much calmer. Actually now, I don't know what all the fuss was about. Except... I loved her. I wanted to marry her, you know. But she ran away. It took me years to find her, and when I did she took me in, last night, let me make love to her and I was so happy; but then she demanded money from me this morning! It is too awful. My poor Odessa is a whore! I couldn't treat her that way. But she wouldn't talk to me and then when I refused to pay, she threw me out. She said I'd cheated her, that I had always cheated her! She said I was crazy, too."

"Oh, that's a shame," Samantha empathized. She wasn't sure who with, though.

"I just wanted to die. And now my prayer has been answered! I am so glad you came."

Samantha unlocked the limo, gently took the towel from the deranged man's limp hands and considered her watch. There was no time to get him changed. Oliver would have to get the concierge to help. She sighed heavily as she opened the door and watched her passenger shamble soggily onto the back seat. On impulse she stepped in beside him and closed the door.

"Alcander, I will start us on our journey soon. But first, there are some questions I must ask you."

"Of course."

"About Odessa; there was a time she knew an American, am I right?"

"If there were any doubts, this would dispel them. You obviously know everything."

"Yes, but I must be sure. You may have some trials before you, you see, and I want to do this correctly."

"I see. Yes, you are right. It hurts to even think of him, and I know now my hatred of him will be my great undoing. But how could I feel otherwise? He seduced her, used her and left her, and then my beloved Odessa could not help herself; she fell in love with him!"

"That's why she left me," he added, sadly, and then whispered, "We were engaged, you know."

"What was his name, Alcander?"

"I can not say such an evil thing!"

"You can say it to me. You must."

Samantha held her breath, waiting for the inevitable.

"Dr. Oliver Barrie."

Samantha exhaled and rolled her eyes. Of course. It had to be. That fucking shit. Alcander gave her a surprised look and she realized she'd said the thought out loud. She covered it with a sympathetic smile and some fast words.

"Thank you, Alcander. I know that took some courage. Now, I want you to realize you can not go forward without reconciling your hatred. You can't take that with you. It's not allowed; totally against the rules. My job is to help you fix it. Now, you were to meet with Dr. Barrie and some others today, were you not? About the Parthenon Marbles?"

"Yes. But I wasn't going to go. Why would I want to help Barrie? I only came to London for Odessa. She was all I cared about."

"Well that's your first mistake, and we're going to correct that right now."

"Oh no! No, please. I cannot face that monster!"

"You must, Alcander. You said 'no' to a great opportunity, you know. One that was given to you to help you. And now you have been given a second chance. You have to go to that meeting."

"What will happen if I don't?"

"Alcander, are you trying to negotiate with *me*? You actually dare to do that?"

"Ah. Sorry. I am very sorry. Forgive me, please. It's what I do for a living, you see. I'm always trying to get a better deal."

"And there is nothing wrong with that. In fact, that is precisely what you are to do. But you're going to have to do it with Dr. Barrie. You and he are going to be a team."

Alcander looked at her like a scolded puppy for a moment, then stared down at his soggy feet.

"I will do what is required of me. I submit. I asked to die, and I know there is a price for everything. I will pay it. Take me to Barrie. I'll work with him."

"Halleluiah," she muttered, looking at her watch.

Alcander Pagonis nodded, bowed his head, clasped his hands together and added, piously, "Amen."

*******

As soon as Samantha had the limo headed in the direction of the Montague Hotel, she called Oliver.

"I have him. I'm on my way. I should be there by around 9:55, if the traffic's good."

"Thank you, Miss Kane. Good job."

Miss Kane. Her chest seemed tight all of a sudden and her eyes felt prickly. "There's a complication, though. May I suggest you get the concierge to help? You need to get a change of clothes for Alcander. He's soaking wet. You could guess his size, right? I figure you've met him before."

"Oh? Wet, huh? Interesting. Yes, I did meet him a few times. It was years ago though, I'm not sure of his proportions now."

A little thing like fucking a guy's fiancée would tend to dampen a relationship, she supposed. There probably hadn't been much to say since. She slammed the door on the growl in her head and tried to sound professional.

"He's around 195 pounds. I'd say waist about forty. Height's around 5' 8", don't you think?"

"Uh, yeah, somewhere around there. Ok, I've got it. I'll get some clothes for him. Well, thank you, again."

"There's something else you should know, Sir. He's had a rather traumatic experience. That address you gave me? The person who lives there is someone called 'Odessa'. Apparently the same one your last chauffeuse abandoned you with."

"Oh! Wow! Really? Ah. Well, how delightful! I didn't know she was in London. Wait a minute... I was told that apartment block is a kind of, well, brothel, or something."

"That is apparently correct, Sir."

"Are you telling me Odessa's a whore?!"

"Yes, Sir. It seems you had something to do with that. And for that reason, Sir, Mr. Pagonis doesn't like you very much. As I said, I thought you should know."

"He blamesme?"

"Apparently he does, yes. You broke up his engagement."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"And now she's a whore? Because of me?"

"Looks like it."

"Ohmygod."

"I thought you should be aware of the situation, Sir."

"Ohmygod. This is disastrous. I have to address it. Oh shit, there's no time! What does he want from me?"

"That's not for me to say, Sir. However I believe he intends to treat you respectfully and do his best with the negotiations."

"Oh? And you believe this based on what, exactly?"

"Our conversation. He's been quite forthcoming."

"In a very short time, too... Ah. I get it. Yeah, I see." There was a pause, then a heavy sigh.

"Yeah, you probably felt you had to do it, given the circumstances with the report n' all. You really don't trust me much, do you? Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. An outstanding performance, Miss Kane. Remind me never to underestimate your powers of persuasion. Well fucking done. Or maybe that should be, 'well done fucking'?"

Samantha's foot pressed ever so slightly on the accelerator pedal and the powerful Rolls surged dangerously close to the rear bumper of the car in front.

"We will be there shortly, Sir. Goodbye."

*******

The attendees had been invited to a pre-meeting breakfast on the Montague Hotel's wooden deck. It was a select, intimate group: a couple of UNESCO representatives, a few Greek nationals with long standing in the international arts and heritage community, a few British Museum trustee members. And there was Sir William Rice, alone at a table for two with Dr. Barrie.

The agenda included discussions on the progress of the new Acropolis Museum in Athens, the feasibility of British law ever allowing the Marbles to visit their homeland, and the suitability of the new Acropolis Museum as an international venue. They all knew they weren't going to decide the fate of the Marbles that day, or any day soon. So the general atmosphere was one of congenial preparation for long and delicate groundwork.

The day promised to be reasonably congenial, and the mild, early summer sunshine on the rose-trellised deck helped set the mood. Most of the attendees had met before. There were a few experts who hadn't been able to make it; Dr. Barrie was going to meet them on their home turf in Oxford on Monday.

"...Yes, Bill, I'm rather looking forward to seeing Oxford again. May I call you Bill? Please, call me Oliver. And thank you so much for having breakfast with me: I do feel it's important for us to get to know each other."

"Well, yes, I do too, Oliver. You know, you have rather a colossal task in front of you. You need to understand, and I shall be making it clear in our discussions today, the Select Committee won't be premature in its recommendation on the legal issue. Although, I do rather fear that, in the end, you're not going to get anywhere. Of course, Iam interested in full and open discussions on the matter. That's why I'm here."

"Of course. I wouldn't expect anything less from you. You know, this may seem odd, but I feel as though I know you already."