Christina Ch. 05

"Good," he said, smiling contentedly at the crowd around him. It was becoming more and more evident that snider was simply an organizer, a ringmaster, and a man who took his pleasure from programming rather than from participating. Well, I thought, to each his own. I only knew that I would never be able to simply stand and watch as he had apparently done all afternoon. I never have been able to bear the sidelines when there was a chance to get in on the game.

"All right," he said, "what'll it be this time?"

"How about 'explorers and amazons'?" said the weight lifter, who was still fingering away at one of his lovely dumbbells.

"We did that last time," snider said. "A little originality, if you please."

"What about 'star travel?" offered the gorgeous young man who I had almost enjoyed earlier on.

"Or 'ballet'," said the jockey.

"Or 'Romans and Visigoths'?" suggested Belinda.

By now it was obvious to me that Snider's games were forms of sexual fantasy, to be indulged in en masse. It sounded like a marvelous idea as far as I was concerned, but I wondered how everyone was to come to agreement as to the fantasy itself, especially when it seemed that everyone in the room had his or her own pet theme.

Snider solved the problem simply by taking the decision out of the guests' hands. " Actually," he said, "I think I've got a better idea. Let's do 'the court of Marie Antoinette'."

"Without costumes?" complained the beautiful older woman. "How?"

"With costumes?" said snider. "It's a little surprise I've been saving fore you."

He clapped his hands and two servants appeared, rolling out a metal rack lined with elaborate eighteenth century costumes, which looked astoundingly authentic even bunched up as they were on the rack. While everyone oohed and ahed and said 'marvelous', snider moved in to preside over the distribution, handing courtier's garb and powdered wigs to the men (except the jockey, who got the most outlandishly colorful jester's suit I had ever seen), and lovely, frilly hoop skirts with enticing décolletage to the women. Everyone had a wonderful time helping everyone else on with his or her beautiful costumes, but there were three of us -- Belinda, Katy, and myself -- who had apparently been left out.

Not for long, through. When everyone else was dressed, when they had finished strutting like peacocks and complimenting one another on how marvelous they looked, snider clapped his hands for attention.

"All right," he said when everyone else had quieted down. "Now we come to the leading players in our little drama. First, the eminently wicked Madame de pompadour." he took one of the three remaining dresses, a magnificent thing of pink velvet with blood red roses brocaded on the bodice, and presented it to Belinda, who put it on amidst enthusiastic cheers.

"Next," said snider, "the reigning duchess of love, the elegant Marie due Barry." a second dress, a symphony of powder blue satin and white lace, went to Katy, who filled it out so elaborately as to impress even this jaded crowd.

"And now, snider went on, "the star of the show, the paragon of amour, lover of kings and destroyer of empires, the queen of France -- Marie Antoinette!"

He took my hand and led me over to the rack, to the one remaining dress, which he took down and held out for my approval. And I must admit, the dress was a thing of breathtaking beauty, a cascade of silk in royal purple, embroidered with fleurs-de-lis and accented with a sash of dashing pink. I started to take it from snider, but he stepped away from me.

"No my queen," he said softly. "You must not soil your hands with this worthless garment."

"Then bring me my ladies!" I said imperiously. I was catching onto the rules of this game and beginning to enjoy it immensely. The smile on Sniders face as he bowed low told me that I had indeed caught the spirit of the thing, and when he clapped his hands two of the women stepped forward to help me on with the dress. I could not help but notice that it had Velcro fasteners along each side, presumably for quick and easy removal.

Once the dress was in place the crowd murmured its appreciation. And with all due modesty, I must say that I looked positively stunning -- my hair up off my neck, the beautiful dress showing off my color most admirably, my breasts revealed by the low décolletage right to the very points of my nipples. For a moment I almost wished I had been born two hundred years earlier, so that I could have dressed like that every day of my life.

"Now," said snider, bringing me back to reality, "we begin. Today queen Marie and her trusted friends" -- with a sweeping wave he indicated Belinda and Katy -- "are holding auditions for new lovers. Anyone of aristocratic blood is welcome to try out, but be forewarned, a horrible punishment waits for those who fail."

He looked around the room, a glint in his eye that I found rather disturbing. I even wondered briefly if he would bring a little touch of sadism to this play of his. But the smiles and tittering of the guests relieved my fears on that score.

"First," he said, "the court entertainers will prepare the ladies for the audition."

Immediately the jockey, the weight lifter, and the Indian stepped out of the crowd and walked toward us. I saw the weight lifter begin to nuzzle at Belinda's neck, while the Indian boldly put both his hands inside the bodice of Katy's dress, drew out her lush breasts -- the crowd gasped as they popped into view -- and began to tweak and fondle the nipples into excited hardness.

As I watched this stimulating sight with growing interest, that wonderful little jockey dipped his head under my dress and started to lap at my oh so willing pussy with a tongue that was apparently as well trained as the horses he rode. I responded almost immediately, moaning my approval as I watched the further advances of the weight lifter and the Indian, each of who had now hiked the dresses of their respective ladies up above their waists, revealing pussies that were already growing wet with lubrication.

As was mine. The educated tongue of that sweet jockey was traversing the entire length of my crotch, burying itself up in the crevice between my buttocks, then trailing down over my dilating pussy hole to stroke tenderly along the hardening button of my clitoris. It wasn't long before he had me so marvelously excited that I was pulling my own breasts out of the bodice of that elegant dress, and massaging the aching globes until the nipples stood straight out at attention.

"The queen is ready!" snider barked. "First suitor, to the front!"

My friend the jockey withdrew -- somewhat reluctantly, I noticed -- and a strapping fellow in a powdered wig stepped up, his torso still covered with a formal waistcoat, but with his pantaloons removed and his aristocratic cock jutting up proudly from his loins. I was already so creamy inside that no further lubrication was needed, and so eager to have my hungry vagina filled with that magnificent instrument that I fairly thrust myself at him, spreading my legs wide across the makeshift throne on which I was sitting and feeling him slide into me with one smooth, powerful stroke.

At the same time I could see the two men who had been cock fencing on the diving board rip the dresses off Belinda and Katy, turn them around on their hands and knees, and begin to plunder them from behind. It was as if I could feel what was happening to them as well as my own sensations, could feel the entrance of all three cocks and the buffeting of all three powerful loins. I closed my eyes and met each thrust of my aristocratic lover with an answering thrust of my own, goaded to even greater exertion by the chants and the cheers of the crowd.

"Oui," I sighed, suddenly feeling thoroughly French and thoroughly the queen. "Oui, mon amour! Comme ca!"

In what seemed like a matter of seconds, I felt my suitor stiffen and heard him grunt out his climax as his cock jerked and throbbed inside me. I bucked up and down madly to wring out the last juices of his orgasm, and found that I could not stop even when he finally withdrew. I myself was nowhere near orgasm, and now my little pussy was empty, leaving nothing but an aching void.

But my host would not allow me to remain that way for long. "Next!" he yelled. "Can't you see the queen is waiting?"

At once another eager suitor stepped up. I yanked at the Velcro fasteners and tore my dress off, then turned around, grabbed the arms of my 'throne' and bent over so that my torso was at a 90-degree angle to my waist, thus giving this new aspirant the greatest possible access to my throbbing vagina. He didn't hesitate. He stepped immediately into the breech, skewering me with the full length of his wonderful cock, and beginning immediately to fuck into me with long, powerful strokes.

But this candidate didn't last much longer than the first, yelling out his orgasm after only a few strokes while I fumed in impatient frustration. When he was finished and had withdrawn abjectly, I stood up, turned to the crowd and said:

"Is there no man strong enough to satisfy his lonely queen?"

A silence fell over the crowd. I noticed that Katy and Belinda had evidently been more fortunate than I, and that they now lay on the floor, spent and only half conscious, their naked bodies intertwined with those of their victorious suitors. In other parts of the room those who could no longer stand to watch and wait were indulging themselves in every imaginable manner of copulation, but even this stopped as my urgent plea rang through the room.

Finally a man stepped forward, the gorgeous thing who I had put off earlier with my inopportune request for his name. He was smiling softly, and as he advanced toward me his hand was going up and down in strong, regular rhythm on his hardened cock. Finally he reached me and bowed so low that the point of his delectable prick was almost jabbing him in the chest.

"At your service, my queen," he said.

I needed to hear no more. I took him by the hand and led him to a spot in the middle of the room and lay down on the floor as the crowd formed a circle around us. In a flesh he was poised over me, and I drew my knees back until they were just under my chin so that he could penetrate me to the fullest. Just the sight of him had pushed me several steps nearer orgasm, and now, as he entered me, I felt the unmistakable surge of my impending climax beginning to build in the pressure cooker of my cunt.

When I opened my eyes I saw that the crowd had already melted away, so inspired were they by the sight of my magnificent suitor beginning to saw in and out of me that they returned anew to their own randy activities. I closed my eyes again and concentrated with all my might on the feeling of this glorious cock heaving and throbbing within me, contracting the muscles of my loving cunt around it, feeling the walls pulse maddeningly in time with its insistent beat.

"Oh!" I cried out as the sensations welled up inside me like lava in a seething volcano. "Oh! .... Oh! Yes, my love! ... Just.... like...that!"

I threw my legs around him, clenching my thighs in a vise grip on his sides and clamping my ankles together so that he was locked inescapably inside me. I heaved and thrust against him, beating my heels on his back and clutching at the powerful muscles of his arms as inch by inch my orgasm rose inside me. This was the one I had been building toward all day, the one I had unconsciously been saving for him and him alone, and now it hit me, the force of it driving my pumping hips mad with fury, sending me shimmying up and down the full length of his pole in a mindless, senseless adagio that threatened to drown me in the sweet fluid ocean of pure sensation, pure feeling.

"Oh god!" I screamed out into the room as my back arched up off the floor and my body went stiff from the power of this incredible climax. I knew my lover was coming too, and this served only to multiply the strident power of what I was feeling. I soared on the energy of that orgasm, feeling myself leave my body and drift out into a cottony, star studded carpet, shooting through time and space like a soul realized from earthly torment, alone and unchained.

"By the way," I heard him whisper as my body collapsed on the floor underneath us, "Since you were wondering earlier, my name is Leonard snider."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I said as we drifted side by side in the pool on a pair of air mattresses, sipping polish vodka and grapefruit juice -- a great après sex pick me up, by the way -- contained in exquisite glasses of Swedish leaded crystal.

"First things first," he said. "In my life, partying always comes before business."

"But who was that fellow who was organizing everything?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"A neighbour of mine," Leonard said casually. " His great-great-grandfather had the original land grant for this entire valley. His wife doesn't mind him coming to the parties, but she absolutely forbids him to fuck anybody but her. So he doesn't fuck anybody at all."

"Imagine that," I said, and then lapsed into a meditative silence, which my adorable host soon broke.

"Katy told me you wanted my help with something," he said. "Some kind of trouble."

In my work I have developed a policy of being as forthright as possible unless there is some good reason to be otherwise. I looked closely now at snider, at the young Adonis who had satisfied me so utterly only an hour before, and wondered if I should try to beguile him. My instincts told me that he could be a treacherous and formidable opponent if his own interests were at stake, but that under these circumstances he would not feel himself challenged and would thus respond best to a direct approach.

"I do need help," I said. "I want to know what happened to Paul Bayard."

He gave me a startled look.

"You want to know what happened to Bayard?" he said. "Well, nothing's happened to him except that he's about to become the biggest international star since Eastwood."

"Exactly my point," I said. "International stardom is not Paul's style."

"What makes you so sure?" he said.

"I know him quite well," I said. "We were once lovers."

"Did you ever stop to think that you may not have known him as well as you thought?" snider inquired, attempting to take the offensive again.

"No," I said, and I meant it.

"Well, think about it a bit," he shot back. "I've yet to meet an entertainer who wouldn't kill for the chance to be where Bayard is right now."

"Let me put it another way," I said. "What would happen if Paul suddenly decided not to be an international star?"

Again that careless shrug. "He has no choice," snider said. "He's under contract."

"To whom?" I said immediately. We were finally getting to the heart of the matter.

He gave out a weary sigh, as if being pestered by the insistent questioning of an intelligent but naive child. "To constellation films," he said.

"You mean to amalgamated."

"Yes, to amalgamated. They're one and the same thing, as I'm sure you know."

"Then why is it that no one at amalgamated seems to know anything about it?" I said sharply. I had him in a corner now, and I had no intentions of letting him escape.

He shifted uncomfortably on his air mattress and took a long sip of vodka. "I couldn't tell you," he said finally, doing his best to hide his obvious discomfort.

"Mr. snider," I said, narrowing in. "I came here because a very close mutual friend of ours told me you could help. Now, you've certainly gotten what you wanted out of this little arrangement..."

"Are you telling me you didn't enjoy the party?" he said. "If so, then you're a better actor than your boyfriend."

"I'm not saying that," I said. "I did enjoy it, and very much. I'm only saying that now I need to have what I want."

Snider rolled over on his side and gave me another long look, but this time there was genuine fear in his eyes. I could see that my questioning had definitely hit an exposed nerve.

"Alright," he said finally. "I'm going to tell you everything I can, but only on two conditions."

"Yes?"

"First, you must never tell anyone where you got the information."

"That goes without saying," I said. This was something I had learned from my work as a journalist, never ever compromise the source of your information -- not if you intend to use him again, at any rate. "What's the second condition?"

"That you do absolutely nothing to follow up," he said. "The entire thing stops here, with your curiosity satisfied and...." he stopped in midsentence.

"And?" I said.

"Your life intact." he said it casually, but it was followed by a meaningful glance."Understood?"

"Understood."

"All right," he said, seemingly relieved. "I'll tell you what I know, which is not everything by any stretch of the imagination. If I knew any more, I probably wouldn't be talking to you at all."

"Please," I said. "No more preambles. Just the information." despite myself, I was beginning to grow impatient with this verbal ballet.

"Paul Bayard is under contract," he said. "But it's a private contract, to a private individual."

"What are you talking about?" I said. I had never heard of such a thing.

"Just what I said. And, by the way, you'd probably get more accomplished, and faster, if you'd listen more and interrupt less."

"Go on," I said, properly chastened.

"Actually, there's not much more to it. Bayard's talents, if you'll pardon the expression, were bought on a private basis by soMeone very powerful who also happened to be very impressed. That is all I know."

"Who?" I said.

"I told you, that's all I know."

Suddenly snider rolled over, dropped off the raft into the pool, and began to swim toward the other end with a smooth, powerful underwater breaststroke. I followed after him, bent on outlasting him with the help of lungs conditioned by years of scuba in the waters off Grenada. When he finally came up for air, I was right next to him.

"I don't believe you," I said.

"Look," he said, "you don't want to get mixed up in this. It involves things that are way too big for you."

"Like what?" I said.

"I've told you what I know," he said, "isn't that enough?"

"No," I said, it's not enough."

"So you're not going to abide by the agreement?"

"The first part, yes. But not the second."

"You have no idea how much your going to regret that decision," he said.

"Be that as it may," I said. "I want to know everything."

"Not from me," he said.

"Who, then?" by now I was practically pleading? "Just give me a next step."

He gave me that look of assessment again, undoubtedly trying to weigh my trustworthiness against the value of his own anonymity. "No names," he said eventually. "I'll give you a place. From there it's up to you."

"Now we're getting somewhere," I said. "Where do I have to go?"

"San Cristobal de Las Casas," he said.

"Where on earth is that?" I said.

"In Mexico. The state of Chiapas, near the boarder with Guatemala."

"Mexico?" I said in surprise. "Chiapas?" isn't that place known for its drug trade?"

"You ask too many questions," he said, and dove underwater again.

I followed again, thinking furiously as my body took over what for me is the automatic function of swimming. I was confused, certainly, and for the life of me could not understand what possible connections Paul could have with drugs in an out of the way place like san Cristobal. It could very well be subterfuge, I realized, an attempt on Sniders part to mislead and ultimately frustrate me out of my objective. But I thought not. There must be a reason why snider was vague.

When he came up for air -- again, long before I felt the need myself -- I grabbed him by the hair and planted a fervent kiss on his lips. I could feel his lovely cock begin to swell in his bathing suit as I crushed him to me.