All Things Come... Vol. 2 Ch. 09

'What did you say?' His eyes were piercing her again and she lowered her head.

'I mean that maybe...' Deep breath. 'Mr. Lancer, the women of my country are said to be skilled in the ways of pleasing men.' There, she'd said it, and she'd committed herself. He looked at her consideringly. She stood up and began to unbutton her blouse. 'I can show you if you like.' He flapped a hand at her.

'Sit down, Mary, for goodness' sake. I'll work for you, and I'll charge you one euro a day. Will that be alright?' Anger rose in her, hot and unexpected.

'That is not a very good joke.' She jumped to her feet. 'If you don't think I'm attractive then just say no politely. All you white people are the same. Arrogant and rich and, and...' He looked shocked and embarrassed.

'Mary, please. I wasn't joking, and I'm sorry if it sounded like rejection, but I won't let you impoverish or yourself prostitute yourself either. One euro a day, and we'll start tomorrow at nine-thirty. Bring the PowerPoint disc with you and don't be late. But you must call me Luke, or I'll deliberately put terrible mistakes in it and you'll be shamed beyond endurance.' He sat back again. 'And you're very attractive, and very tempting, but some white people have pride too.' Her anger disappeared and she sat down again, shaking like a leaf. Emotion overwhelmed her, and tears began to trickle down her cheeks. He looked flustered.

'Please, Mary, don't be upset. Come and rinse your face and we'll talk a little. I don't know anything about your country, or you, or what sort of presentation it's going to be.' He took her gently by the arm and his touch was the last straw. Her control disappeared and she began to cry, all the frustrations and casual hurts of the last few months flooding out of her. As her shoulders heaved, and her sobbing squeezed the breath from her body, she felt him lift her gently and take her back into the bedroom. He sat in the armchair and settled her in his lap, and she buried her face in his chest and howled.

* * * *

As she got ready for bed she wondered what had happened. Somehow he'd soothed her, holding her gently as she lay panting after the storm of tears had passed. Her shame and embarrassment had evaporated as he told her gravely that a change of culture and diet often caused emotional distress, and he'd taken it for granted that she would let him take her to the best oriental restaurant that she knew. He'd listened to her explanations about the food, and her mother's cooking, and how she missed her home, and the utter loneliness she felt in this cold, wet country, and she blushed as she remembered giving in to the pent-up need to talk. She'd felt herself relaxing for the first time in months. She looked at herself in the mirror, frowning at her reflection, and hoped desperately that he wouldn't let her down. A small figure dressed in sensible cotton pajamas frowned back at her. On impulse she pulled the top over her head and then slipped the pants down till they puddled round her ankles. She examined herself again.

Four feet and nine inches of porcelain doll, with skin the color of old ivory; high, surprisingly full breasts, capped by small, jet-black nipples; a smudge of dark pubic hair, fine as silk, at the fork of her body; an almond shaped face with high cheekbones that seemed to press upwards, narrowing and elongating her eyes; raven hair cut short, feathered to frame her features. Her legs were good, she thought, slender and proportioned, and her ass was firm too. She struck a pose, canting her hips and lifting her breasts up with her hands, then relaxed. As she cleaned her teeth her thoughts strayed to how safe she'd felt when he was holding her, and the warm, alien smell of him, and how maybe he wasn't like the officials she'd talked to, cold and unhelpful except for their hot, hungry eyes, and how she wished she was a little bit taller.

E-MAILS

MAGDA TO ELENA

Hello boss,

It's going better than I'd hoped, and Angela says that the word is that we're punching above our weight. My report is attached. I'm sorry there's so much of it, but I can't summarize it more. I've never heard such long-winded people.

When you see Luke take your mouth off his cock long enough to thank him. If I'd been at a hotel I'd be dead of depression by now, but here, any friend of his is a friend of theirs. The cook is a bit like Annette, but not so noisy, and keeps telling me how Luke "changed this cold house into a happy home", (her exact phrase), and the housekeeper, Trudi is lovely too. Last weekend she took me with her to a spa where another friend works, and we talked for ages. It turns out that they're the people he went away with at Christmas, and we swapped notes on him, and technique, and experiences... honestly, you'd have blushed to hear us. We talked about Uli too, and how he's the one who created her, virtually, and they're so happy for him and her, and don't seem to think that it'll change anything. (Trudi and Cook were unanimous that she'd been a complete disaster area till he arrived, and that Angela had been a complete bitch too).

Enough gossip. When you've read the attachments give me your comments ASAP, please. It's my turn to chair the sub-committee next week. (Glowing with pride)

Love to Anita and the rest, and to you of course,

Magda

LUKE TO ULI (EXTRACT)

... So that was that dealt with. I wished you'd been here to admire my killer technique with Belgian bureaucracy.

What else? Oh yes, I seem to have adopted a diplomatic orphan: Mary Xian, who's trying to get favored-nation status for her country. She's thirtyish, I suppose, but it's hard to tell: she looks about sixteen, and what on earth her government thinks she's going to accomplish here alone, God only knows. Poor little thing: she's about the size of a hamster, and homesick up to here, and hasn't got any money at all, but she just grits her teeth and keeps on shoveling shit against the tide. She appeared at my door wanting help with a presentation and burst into tears when the strain got too much for her, so I took her out for a meal and let her chatter about home. She's a nice innocent project for me, especially since the coven is busier than ever. Don't tell a soul, but it's quite nice to have a bit of peace and quiet, and Mary is ideal for that. I've been wondering if I could get her to give you some tips on how to treat a man. I only have to say I'm thirsty and five seconds later she's there with a tray of everything, begging to serve me. It's the sort of attitude I could get used to... OK, then, it was only a thought.

Have you got a weekend in mind yet, sweetheart? I liked the idea of the Black Forest when you mentioned it. Sometime this month would be nice, or my wrist will swell up and be useless for anything...

MAGDA, TRUDI

'We're almost like twins, aren't we?' said Trudi, looking at their reflections in the mirror. Magda half-turned and inspected herself.

'You've got more up top than me, but apart from that....' She bit Trudi's nipple gently. 'We've got the same sort of tastes too, except you like it a bit rougher sometimes. My friend Anita's like that.' She rolled over and looked at the ceiling. 'If you had any idea how nervous I was when my boss said Luke had arranged for me to stay here, you'd laugh for a week, and when I saw that car waiting at the airport I nearly died; and now here I am with the housekeeper's juices all over my face.'

'The housekeeper's a bit surprised too,' said Trudi. 'It's almost like being with myself, and you know exactly what I want and how I want it. Luke's the connection: it's strange being with someone I don't know but who's his lover as well.'

The two were lying on the bed in the guest suite of the Fischer house in Vienna. The quilt was pushed to one side and the two bodies glowed against the sheets. A sheen of sweat highlighted the curves and valleys of flesh, and a plate of sandwiches and a bottle of wine stood on the coffee table. Magda stretched luxuriously and stroked Trudi's hip.

'It's so nice to come back to supper and a bit of affection. I thought it would just be me with my fingers. I didn't expect tongues as well.' Trudi snickered. Her fingers drifted over Magda's body and fluttered round her small conical breasts, and she smiled to herself as the dark nipples stiffened at her touch.

'I can sort of remember you doing your bit as well. If Luke was here as well everything would be just perfect. No offence, Magda, but I wish you had a cock. Tongues and fingers just aren't the same, and I'm not up for plastic dicks much. Once in a while for a joke, but I always feel such a fool. I taught Uli how to fuck with one though, when she was still a virgin. She wanted to be able to take Luke properly her first time. What was I going to say? Oh, I know: do you want to go out this weekend and see if we can find a nice stud to share? Inge would be up for it too.' Magda tried to hide her shock.

'Let's see how we feel,' she temporized. 'I'm sort of on a promise to behave. Not a formal one, but... to myself anyway.'

'Because of Luke?' Trudi's voice was mocking.

'Nothing to do with him. But I'm seeing a guy in Brussels, and he told me all seriously that he wouldn't go looking, and stuff like that. I told him not to be so silly: I mean we've only known each other properly for a couple of months, but he's e-mailed me every day, and... I don't know. I don't want to lie to him.' Trudi grinned.

'Sounds like love. What does he think about Luke?' Magda smiled sheepishly.

'He knows that we've been lovers, but he's quite conventional and I don't want to explain that Luke and I still... anyway, when the exams are over he'll take his money and go. Being with him is like being in another place.' She paused. 'But I must say, I've only been with him twice, no, three times since I started seeing Jurgen. Life's funny, isn't it?' Trudi nodded.

'Funny, and fun as well if you work it right. Well, if that's the situation, we'll just have to improvise. Come here.' She rolled towards Magda, one hand reaching for the surprisingly long tuft of pubic hair that guarded the top of her slit. 'Tongues first,' she murmured. 'I love your cuntlips. They're so full and ripe. I could suck on them for ever.' Her head dipped to Magda's groin and nudged between her thighs, forcing them apart, and as her tongue slid over the sticky folds of flesh Magda groaned and surrendered to the sensation.

'Let me play too,' she muttered, 'or I'll sulk.' Trudi opened her own thighs and her breath quickened as Magda's fingers found the firm stub of her clit and rolled it gently. As their bodies twined round each other, slim legs twisted round supple torsos, mouths flickering over soft mounds and engorged, delicate tissue, the aroma of renewed lust rose like invisible smoke from their bodies.

* * * * * *

ANITA, MARY XIAN

Anita sighed and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. I don't even know why I'm here, she thought rebelliously: it's nothing to do with us. The words coming through her earphones were the normal gobbledygook, but worse. The oriental girl she'd seen before was sitting with other observers against the side wall, and she caught Anita's eye. On impulse Anita winked and was rewarded by a shy smile. The meeting droned on.

When it was over the oriental girl lingered, obviously plucking up her courage. As Anita gathered up her files and prepared to leave, she approached her.

'Excuse me, please, are you Miss Mestrovic?'

'Anita. How can I help you?' The girl hesitated then spoke in a rush.

'Mary Xian. Mr. Lancer said that it was possible that you might help me and...' Anita interrupted.

'Mr. Lancer? You mean Luke, the English teacher?' Mary nodded, and Anita looked at her again, and then at her watch. 'Why don't we go and have a drink?'

In the bar she sipped and listened, watching Mary's confidence growing visibly as she realized that she wasn't going to be fobbed off with excuses. She finished and looked at Anita expectantly. The tall girl shook her curly head disbelievingly.

'They've kept you hanging around for nearly three months, and only three of them bothered to turn up for your presentation?' Mary nodded, and Anita felt indignation welling up in her. 'Rude bastards. Let me look at the rules, Mary, and I'll talk to my boss. We might be able to back your request officially. At least that'll get you on the agenda, and it could benefit us too...' Her voice tailed off and she looked at the ceiling as she began to think politics. Mary sat quietly, and after five minutes Anita came back to earth.

'Maybe I should call Magda. I'll see what's possible and talk to you before the next meeting. Tell me where can I reach you, and then you can explain how you know Luke.' Mary's face glowed and a look of adoration spread across her delicate features.

'I'm staying at the pension where he lives, and ....' Anita listened entranced as she explained how and why she'd come into contact. '...and he's been so helpful and kind,' said Mary solemnly. 'Do you know, he's the first western person who's bothered to listen to me properly? And you're the second, and you're a friend of his, and except when I cried that first time, he's never touched me... I mean, he's never done anything suggestive.' Anita smiled and Mary looked anxious. 'I'm sorry, are you and he...? I didn't mean to be personal... Oh, goodness, he's not gay, is he?' Anita tried not to laugh.

'He's the least gay person I've ever met. Oh, Mary, I don't know how to explain. He's got a serious girlfriend in Munich, but he spends time with other people too, and you're right, I'm one of them, and we all know about each other, and no-one's jealous. You must have noticed that he's a bit different from most men. Do you fancy him too?' Mary looked puzzled and Anita corrected herself. 'I mean, do you find him attractive?' A blush was answer enough, and a spirit of mischief suggested her next words. 'So be clever, Mary. When you're with him, concentrate on the fact that you'd like to know him better: it's amazing how quickly he picks up on that sort of thing; and if you can think of an excuse to have a celebration or something and then look your best for him, I promise you, you'll see the other side of him.' She gathered up her bag and files and stood. 'I've got to run, but I know where to find you, and I'll talk to you in a couple of days.' She left at a trot, leaving Mary with a tingle of excitement growing in her.

LUKE, MARY XIAN, THE COVEN

'You have to remember that we're all different as well.' My lessons in European culture were always well received. 'The English are more formal than everyone except the Germans, and the Spanish and the Italians are so laid-back by comparison that they're almost horizontal. It must be difficult for you.' She nodded.

'Especially since you all look the same. But to call an older man by his first name... it seems disrespectful.' I winced.

'Calling me an older man is a bit disrespectful too. You've hurt my feelings badly now.' She gasped and I exaggerated my expression of hurt so that she'd know I was joking, and she relaxed. We were strolling through the Grande Place, killing time. It was Saturday morning and Elena's Minister was visiting, so there were no duties in that area. Laura had found herself a new boyfriend, and was exploring his possibilities with serious single-mindedness. Lessons for the following week were prepared and waiting, and the weekend stretched ahead, empty and inviting. Mary cleared her throat politely. I knew by now that this meant she wanted to say something. There seemed to be a whiff of sensuality about her today. I shook myself mentally.

'What?' She fished in her bag and produced her passport.

'I think I need to get my visa renewed soon. I thought it was every three months, but the man at the consulate told me six months, and not to worry, but I do. He didn't look very competent.' I took the passport and flicked through it.

'This is a diplomatic passport. Throwing you out of the country would cause an international incident.' She looked terrified.

'Mr. Lancer... I mean, Luke. Do you know what happens to the career trajectory of a woman who accidentally causes an international incident?'

'Good point. I'll call the ministry on Monday and check for you, if you like.' I turned the passport round and looked at her photo. 'These things are always awful, aren't they? My passport makes me look like a convicted axe-murderer... Good God, Mary, today's your birthday. Why didn't you say anything?' She grabbed the passport from my hands and stuffed it in her bag.

'I didn't mean you to see that.' Something didn't ring quite true, I thought: if you show someone your passport then you know, I mean know, that they're going to turn to the photograph and personal details page. I looked at her for a moment. She looked up at me innocently and the hint of sensuality wafted round me again. Temptation is a terrible thing.

'How are we going to celebrate then?' She looked down at the ground.

'What do you mean?' This girl can't lie worth a damn, I thought, and her behavior's turned round since three days ago. A brain cell fired belatedly. Three days ago. Aha.

'Mary Xian, when you talked to Anita about the status application, and she was so helpful, did you talk about anything else?' She was still looking at the ground, but I knew her ivory skin was reddening again. Then another brain-cell fired and I realized there was a connection to exploit, and the chance of a double-six. A double prickle of excitement scampered through me.

'Well, if you don't know what I mean, never mind. I want you to be ready at eight o'clock, in the lobby, dressed in your best, hungry, and anxious for a birthday surprise. OK?' She looked up and there was a hint of triumph in her dark eyes.

'OK'. No argument, no protests, just "OK". I had a feeling of having been out-maneuvered by someone half my size. The inscrutable east, forsooth.

See you later, Mary.' There were some urgent phone calls to make, and finding people on a Saturday wasn't going to be that easy. If I couldn't do it then I'd be her only treat. But two would be better.

* * * * *

I came down into reception a moment or two before eight, but she was there already, fiddling nervously with a slender silver chain round her neck. She was wearing a brocade jacket with a mandarin collar, but artfully cut so that the top button only just hid her cleavage. More cleavage than I'd expected, and my heart rate rose a notch. Slender black pants accentuated her legs and the heels of her shoes, brocaded to match the jacket, added inches to her height. Jade earrings completed the look. She hadn't seen me, and I stopped to drink her in before putting two fingers in my mouth and whistling.

'Jesus, girl, you look more beautiful than ever.' I scooped her up and kissed her on each cheek. She squeaked but didn't protest. She smelt of something delicate and exotic, and my nostrils flared involuntarily. 'Come on girl, it's supper time.' I hooked one arm firmly through hers as we left.

'The outfit's stunning,' I said as we emerged into the evening air. Spring was turning into summer and it was warm enough to be pleasant. 'I thought you were a sensible clothes person.' She squeezed my arm, then looked startled at her own forwardness.

'Thank you. They're meant for official events, but tonight's the first time I've needed to wear them.' Better and better, I thought. 'Where are we going?' she asked.

'To see my friend Annette, who owns the nicest bistro in this city.'

Annette called me a bad boy, and laughed and wheezed, and cooed over Mary. Pierre produced the light supper I'd requested. I persuaded Mary to have wine and she drank nearly a whole glass. She shed her air of deference as the level in her glass dropped, and smiled, and looked mysterious, and sparkled, contributing her whole self to the spirit of the occasion. She was behaving like a woman on a date, I thought, and marveled all over again at how little I understood the female sex, and how they never ceased to surprise me. She wiped her lips carefully and leaned back in her chair.