Appleby Blush Ch. 09

The similarities between the two brothers were even more apparent as they sat opposite him in the large armchairs. With their crinkled black hair, powerful frames and oval shaped faces, they clearly came from the same stock. Then there was their overstated appearance, with Joseph's light blue suit a garish contrast to Emmanuel's canary yellow.

Yet, the biggest difference came in attitude. The Prime Minister was more realistic than his Foreign Secretary brother. Emmanuel was the bulldog whereas Joseph was much more statesmanlike. He understood when enough was enough and looked Appleby straight in the eyes when he spoke—just as he was doing right now.

"Emmanuel tells me the fragrance market is a lucrative one," he mused, taking a sip from the champagne that the businessman had provided.

Appleby nodded calmly. He could see the way this was heading.

"It must be, for you to go to all of this trouble," Joseph Nmobu continued. "Surely you can produce the volumes you need in a country closer to home?"

"Of course," Appleby replied, meeting Nmobu's gaze. There wasn't the slightest chance of producing the Blush in Europe at anything like the cheap cost agreed with the Africans, but he'd keep that information to himself. "However, the commercial reality is that it would be disastrous should news leak to any of my rivals. By manufacturing the perfume in your country, I can keep the venture confidential and that's why I'm paying you over the odds."

"So," Emmanuel interrupted. "We're that important to you?"

Appleby glanced at the Foreign Secretary. "Of course you are, Emmanuel. That's why you were able to push me to my very limits. Any further concessions would be untenable and to protect all of our interests, none of us want that, do we?" He switched his gaze between the two African politicians. "I take the view that a successful partnership is one where we all have a vested interest in the success. The two and a half million fee stretches me to the limit, but I'm bending over backwards to meet your needs."

The brothers exchanged a quick glance.

"My needs are straightforward," Appleby continued, reaching for the bottle of champagne and standing to refill all three glasses. "We all agree that the deal is an equitable one. For my generous outlay, you meet all the delivery volumes and timescales we've agreed. It really is that simple. Now then, gentlemen," he smiled, remaining on his feet. "Is there anything else you'd like to clarify before we sign the contract?"

***

"What do you think?" Carmella asked, as she walked Kirsten along a wide hall lined with alternating white panelled doors.

She'd shown the brunette inside a couple of the large bedrooms, each equipped with large beds, ceiling and wall mirrors, erotic art adorning the walls, massage tables and even a range of toys. Everything that two lovers could need for a night of passion, she explained. There wasn't a need to say more, the flushed look on Kirsten's face told the Columbian beauty that the tour was having the desired effect.

"I think it's the most amazing place I've ever been in," Kirsten simply answered as they stopped at the last door on the hall. It was the only room without a number.

She couldn't stop herself from leaning against Carmella as they stood there, feeling the warmth of that olive skinned body against hers. The hot woman looked even sexier than before. She smelled good. It was some kind of spicy perfume that sent shivers to her spine. And her lips were moist. Kissable.

Staring into those sparkling eyes that conveyed that anything was possible, she felt her body scream out for attention.

The older woman recognised the signs. She turned face on to the heavily breathing cop, her hands sliding behind her and downwards to settle on Kirsten's cute ass. "I know what you want," she whispered into her ear, stroking the soft lobe with her tongue. "You want to kiss me, don't you?"

Kirsten felt a blush cover her face as Carmella read her thoughts. How could she have known that? She remembered the moment she'd thought that her beautiful host was going to kiss her on the private jet. Why hadn't she?

"You may," the Columbian woman whispered, as casually as if she was granting the cop permission to take a cookie from the jar. She leaned into Kirsten's lips, nuzzling their noses but making no move to cover that final, short distance.

It was left to the brunette to make that final move.

Kirsten grasped the sexy woman's head in her hands and closed the gap between their mouths, bringing her open mouth to Carmella's in a quick, fervent kiss. She briefly pulled away, as if deciding she couldn't take the kiss further, but not before feeling the other woman's wet tongue pass between her lips. The sensation fanned the fire.

Those magnificent breasts felt warm and wonderful against her chest. She wondered what Carmella would do if she cupped them, but instead dove in for another hard kiss. Her first passionate kiss with another woman was a thrilling feeling. Their mouths opened to one another, their tongues danced, and then she was cupping those breasts, feeling Carmella's nipples rise under her touch as the kiss became even more aggressive.

It was only when the orgasm swept through her voluptuous body that Kirsten pulled her lips away, trembling in the other woman's arms. That wasn't possible, was it?

Carmella smiled at her as she leant the brunette against the wall and then produced a key from somewhere. Opening the door, she stepped aside to allow Kirsten to enter and then followed her into the room. A flick of a switch brought the large flat screen on the wall to life. Kirsten's gasp at the sight was gratifying. If Alice was proving as easy to manipulate under Marcia's guidance, the night would turn out even better than expected...

On screen, a thin redhead was being taken doggie style by an older man on a large bed. Their reflections bounced off the mirrors on the walls of the kaleidoscopic room, creating a mesmerising hypnotic effect of raw sexuality as Kirsten watched.

Carmella pointed at the number in the corner of the screen. "Room three. That's Count Borasvak with, if I'm not mistaken, the wife of one of his business rivals."

The man was raised up on one knee now, drilling the woman for all he was worth. Kirsten could hear the sound of their flesh slapping against one another and the woman's panting exhortations as her apple sized tits bounced underneath her.

"You have cameras?" the cop asked, realising the stupidity of the question as soon as it left her lips. How else was she watching what was happening down the hall? Her head tried to come to terms with the implications but she couldn't quite take it all in.

"Only for security purposes," Carmella explained as her amused look bored into the brunette. "We must always make sure our guests are safe, don't you think?"

Kirsten nodded. That made sense. But...

The Columbian woman put a finger to her lips, as if the gesture would stop any further thoughts. It did. "Sssh, darling," her soothing voice whispered. "Why don't you just watch while I make a quick phone call? Then I'll take you for your treat. You'd like that?"

Carmella left, leaving Kirsten alone in the voyeur's dream. The brunette touched her lips as she thought of the kiss. Pushing a strand of brown hair from her eye, she wondered if maybe Carmella was going to be her treat. Who would have believed the thought of being with another woman could be so exciting? She'd been curious in the past, but never truly considered the possibility. Now...

Now, on screen, she watched the Count's manhood sliding in and out of the redhead and realized she wanted more. A cock. Long and thick—and preferably a black one.

Daly's? Laroche's?

She searched the screen until she found what she was looking for: two black men, close enough in appearance that they must have been related. The room they were in wasn't a bedroom, but what must have been an indoor pool. Behind them, steam brewed up out of a bubbling Jacuzzi.

Kirsten barely saw it. She was busy watching them strip. Her pussy watered at the sight of their muscular, ebony skin. Their cocks swung, semi-erect, between their thighs. Before she could do so much as think about touching herself, they were pulling on robes and hiding that which she so desired.

Her eyes swivelled towards Carmella as she re-entered the room, dropping her phone back into her bag. The sexy host followed Kirsten's eyes to the Jacuzzi room and the two Africans. "Ah, I see you've already seen your treat..."

Kirsten nearly jumped up and kissed the woman once again.

***

"Where are we going?" Alice asked as they swept across the room. Marcia had her by the hand and was leading her towards the far door.

She was aware of the eyes on them, all of the men and even some of the beautiful women. Her short, sequined dress perfectly complimented Marcia's green number, and both sets of breasts—Marcia's magnificently full swells and her own perky tits—threatened to spill out of their respective plunging necklines. She'd never felt quite as sexy as she did right now.

The redhead stopped when they walked through into a smaller room. This one was equally as impressive but in a different way. The lights were much dimmer and the atmosphere was more intimate. Whilst couples weren't engaging in anything outlandishly inappropriate, their hands were touching one another as they talked, or softly kissed, in that mating ritual that suggested they'd soon be leaving the room for somewhere more private.

"You told me about your one night stands," Marcia said, answering Alice's earlier question. "And you said being used by the twins was your hottest experience so far."

So far... The words reverberated around Alice's mind. She was getting to know her friend only too well and Marcia had something definite in mind. Whatever it was, it would be sexual. Her body warmed at the thought.

"Yes," she confirmed, in a voice so low it was little more than a whisper.

"That is," Marcia chuckled. "Apart from our session with Tony and Alonso..."

She left the thought hanging there. It would be enough. The Blush the young girl had just consumed would do the rest. Images of being taken by two men... Recollections of being fucked by Tony Daly while she watched Marcia undulating on Alonso...

Smiling at the faraway look in Alice's eyes, she discreetly waved over the waitress waiting patiently in the corner. It had been some time since she'd spent a night with Yolanda. Maybe the three of them could hitch up together? It would be fun to initiate Alice into the delights the mocha-skinned girl could provide.

"Doesn't she look sexy," she murmured to Alice as the stunningly dark girl sashayed across the floor towards them.

Alice pulled away from her daydream to stare at the waitress. She'd thought that she and Marcia were showing an indecent amount of cleavage but even they couldn't compete with this young girl. Her dark skinned breasts were pushed so high above the low cut of the sexy Columbian Flamenco dress that a simple tug of the top would see them spill free.

They looked so inviting...

It took a moment for Alice to realise what the girl was carrying on the silver platter and she wondered if the coke was being offered to everyone or only a select few. She should make a point of mentioning it to Sandra Wilson later, but if she did then she'd have to mention her own habit. Habit—is that what it was?

She shook her head to herself. All she'd done was to take a few hits while she and Marcia were making love and there wasn't any doubt it had heightened each orgasmic moment. Anything that made her feel so awesome, that brought everything so crisp and alive, couldn't be wrong, could it? It was the misuse of the drug that Vice investigated, not the occasional recreational hit that beautiful people like Marcia took.

"Hi, Yolanda," she heard Marcia say, and watched breathlessly as the redhead took the platter from the waitress. "Say hello to Alice."

She turned to greet the girl, but almost before she knew what was happening the mocha-skinned beauty had one hand around her neck. The sexy girl had deep red lips—so kissable—and they homed in on Alice's like a heat seeking missile. When she opened her mouth, those sexy lips found her tongue, sucking on it as if she was pleasuring a cock.

Alice's hands momentarily fluttering by her side, like butterfly wings, as the stunning girl gave a sexy blowjob to her tongue. A hand in her hair broke the kiss, pulling her head away. It was Marcia's fingers wrapping around her silky hair and gently tugging her head forward towards the platter.

Alice immediately understood.

Taking the platinum tube, she leant over and snorted the cocaine as professionally as Marcia had taught her. Tossing her long blonde hair back with one hand, she pinched her nose with the other as the powerful narcotic washed through her body.

Marcia sent a sexy grin to Yolanda. One that said she'd be calling on her again soon. For now, she had other things to accomplish. Even by the Carmella's high standards, this plan was a stroke of genius.

***

Sandra Wilson twirled the empty glass between her fingertips. She held on to it in case she was offered another. Her mind and body were already struggling to cope with the effect of the alcohol she'd already consumed. Why hadn't she stopped drinking earlier, when she'd told herself to? The champagne was definitely affecting her thinking.

Tony Daly's right hand was tracing little circles along her forearm and his left rested casually on her bare thigh. She should have removed it by now, but his touch felt comforting. Comforting? She was fooling herself. The touch felt blatantly sexual.

"What would you like to know," he asked her.

"Know?" Her mind was blank. She knew she'd asked him a question, but what was it? As soon as she finished this conversation she'd call Alex and ask him to collect her from the party. Her barrel chested lover was in for a treat tonight—she hoped he was up to it.

But right now, she allowed the black photographer to gently caress her as the spoke. In other circumstances, she'd be unable to resist giving herself to this man.

"You asked about our models," he reminded her, playfully running his fingernails down to her knee and back up again. If he kept doing that, she wouldn't be able to wait for Alex!

"Oh, yes." She had. Even in her highly aroused state, her instinct as cop was still attempting to gather information on life as a model. Sometimes she just couldn't let go.

"So," he asked her again. "What would you like to know?"

What did she want to know? How could she concentrate with that slithering hand doing wonderful things to her skin? It was edging under the short hem of her dress now and all that mattered was the pressure building between her thighs. Damn. She had to concentrate.

"I... I'm not sure," she told him, pushing a lock of dark hair behind her ear. How had they found a room empty of other partygoers? She was aware that she was settling back into the sofa, letting her legs fall apart. That wasn't an invitation to Daly's hand, she told herself. She was just making herself more comfortable.

"You said you wanted to be a model," he softly said, half turning his body into hers. His hand rose higher.

Wilson shook her head. No, that was wrong. "I didn't," she contradicted, feeling like she was slurring the words. Was she really that drunk? Anyway, he had been the one who'd said she could make it as an older model, not her. "I just wondered what the life of a model consisted of. Behind the scenes..."

"Ah, behind the scenes," he murmured, one hand finding its way around her shoulder, holding her steady while his right hand stroked along her inner thighs. His voice had lowered to a persuasive whisper. "Like the rest of the world, most of our models are preoccupied with one thing. Some like the soft touch of a woman. Others prefer the rather more muscular male models they come into contact with, and some like to fuck their photographer." His lips found her neck. "What about you, Sandra?"

Fuck their photographer? Daly had been her photographer, hadn't he? She could feel her legs opening further. Was he pushing them apart or had she done that? With his lips on her neck, it was impossible to think clearly. She tilted her head to allow him better access.

"This is what the beautiful people of the fashion world do," his voice was whispering into her ear. They work hard and in their free time they fuck. That's what makes the world go round. Wouldn't you like to fuck your photographer, Sandra?"

His searching fingers were rubbing her through her skimpy thong now. Her legs were wide apart. Sweat broke out along her brow and the hazy lust began to dull her vision. When he pushed the material away and stroked along her wet lips, she moaned and thrust her hips upwards to meet the wonderfully soft touch.

"Oh God, sorry," she heard a voice in the distance. Someone had entered the room by mistake. Her eyes sprung open just in time to see a head disappear and the door close behind him. For a few seconds, the spell had been broken and somehow the interruption infused her with the last vestiges of willpower she'd thought had long since gone.

"The bathroom," she mumbled, pushing away from Daly and lurching to her feet. She rested a hand on the arm of the couch to steady herself. "I need the bathroom..."

***

Joseph Nmobu had to hand it to Donald Appleby. If either he or his brother were seen at the businessman's mansion, not only would the deal be blown wide open but so would he and Emmanuel's standing in the African community. Particularly so if it was revealed that the Gala party taking place was as decadent as this one.

By making the indoor Jacuzzi room at their disposal, the business magnate had given them the privacy required to sate their needs without any fear of being exposed. Or so they thought. Neither man was aware of the hidden cameras that were already rolling.

That evidence was essential to Donald Appleby should either brother renege on their agreement. The threat of exposing the sexual activities of the African country's Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary to the world would be sufficient to ensure they toed the line.

It was precisely because of the debauchery, of course, that Joseph and his brother had wanted to partake. The two and a half million heading to their Swiss bank accounts was reward enough for completing the deal, but tonight would be the icing on the cake. Adding to his satisfaction was the fact that, as the British Government had never done a single thing to support their country, it would be two female members of the famed London Met at their disposal. That was an exceptionally satisfying way to gain some sort of revenge.

The submerged lamps shining their rose coloured tints up from the luminous waters added to the ambience, while the brown lanterns along the walls provided just enough light to create a sensual atmosphere. Not that sensuality was on either brother's mind. Black women were plentiful in their country and they both took their fill. But fucking a white woman, especially when they were as hot as Appleby promised, was a rare treat.

And the brunette who walked into the room lived up to the promise. With her high cheekbones dark eyebrows and shiny, brown hair, she was every bit as stunning as Appleby had promised. His lustful gaze ran across her body in the short red party dress. Anticipation was such a powerful aphrodisiac, he'd always thought.

With a nod that told Emmanuel to stand back and allow him to take the lead, he smiled at the woman. "Good evening, my dear," he said as his hands went to the belt of his robe. Appleby had said she liked black men so what better way to introduce himself than by exposing his body. He watched her eyes grow wider as he let the robe fall to the ground.