Harry's Protégé Ch. 12

"Yes, I'd love to meet them and am also am curious about your parents. I'll organize a lunch here or, if you prefer, I'll assist you host us all at your apartment?"

He looked pleased and said, "I think we should meet them on home turf - bring riding clothes as they have horses."

"Horses, oh, let's go there; do you think next Sunday would suit everyone?"

Harry laughed and said he'd try to arrange for next Sunday.

Harry's suggestion for Sunday lunch at the O'Hern country estate suited everyone and Betsy phoned Harry after her mother had spoken to her, blowing kisses at him and asking breathlessly what should she wear, should they call his 'companion' Sierra or Miss Bycroft because she came from a very wealthy family and could she ride?

Harry said a jeans and a top, for goodness sake; it was Sunday lunch not a garden party; his work colleague would probably hit anyone calling her Miss Bycroft in a social setting, neither she nor her parents spoke about their wealth. Yes, he understood she rode.

"Work colleague? I thought this is the woman you're going to marry? Have you decided to put that on hold?"

"For God's sake, Betsy, back off, and don't say anything to mother about a possible relationship. I'm still wooing her so no long-term thoughts have been discussed yet."

"Wooing" No one has time for wooing these days."

"We do."

"Oh, sorry. I promise not to be provocative."

* * *

The three women came back from riding, hot, sweaty and exhilarated. The two older women went off to shower while Betsy flung herself at Harry, kissing him and then sitting on his knee.

"She is gorgeous and absolutely amazing and so modest Harry. Where are the other two?"

Two blasts of a shotgun sounded.

"Oh, target shooting. You didn't tell me she has a dog Harry, or that she qualified twice for the national junior riding championships?'

"A dog - Sierra has a dog?"

"Of course she does, it's an over-fed and under-exercised Jack Russell called Sam in the care of Mrs Bycroft who insists on calling him Samuel, but he's become use to that name."

"Oh, that Jack Russell. Why is Sierra's dog with Margo?"

"Oh my, Margo to you is she?" Betsy grinned. "Because, dummy, dogs are not allowed in Sierra's apartment building and there would be no one at home to keep Sam company and Sam is really Mrs Bycroft's dog who bought him as a puppy but Sierra was living at home in those days and Sam simply adopted her as his mother."

"Do I need to know all this?"

"Yes you do. God, you men are difficult and wooing is definitely a must for you as obviously you're a slow-learner when it comes to women."

"Thank you sweetheart - off and shower, you're smelly."

"And up yours too, but thanks for bringing her to me, Harry. I love her already."

"You can't, you've not know her for more than two hours."

Betsy looked at him, shaking her head.

"You really don't know much, do you Harry. How the hell you manage to run that newspaper I'll never know...oh yes I do, Sierra and other females do it for you."

* * *

Three months later it was Harry and Sierra's wedding day. She was under contract to an influential magazine for exclusive rights to report the occasion and no one, not even her mother, knew for sure who others in the bridal party would be, apart from Harry, that is.

When Harry professed to be under intolerable pressure amid all the pre-wedding fuss, Sierra packed him off to an offshore conference on media law with Peter Fish and his lawyer wife. One of the keynote speakers, Nicola Fish worked for a rival firm and lectured at the university on libel law.

Harry chose an old school pal and sometimes drinking mate Al (Athol) Kennedy as his best man under Sierra's urgings as he was exactly Harry's height but he was unmovable in demanding that city editor Frank Ryan be a groomsman.

Thanks to Betsy, Harry learned that the bridesmaids had been arranged according to descending height. She would partner Frank because she was his height. The selection of the only other male attendant Harry wanted, former Heavy Machinery editor Tommy Thompson, now managing editor of the company's magazine group who'd become a great friend of Harry's, distressed Sierra because he was too short.

However genial Tommy agreed to wear the high sole and heel boots Sierra said she'd had hand-made for him. The four other bridesmaids would walk in pairs behind Tommy and his partner, Linda Canon, Channel 4's young TV presenter of 'Women in Ascendancy' screened every Wednesday and Sunday evenings immediately after the 6 o'clock news.

The only other bridesmaid's name Harry recognized - and was greatly pleased about that choice - was Jenni Bannister who Harry wrongly assumed would not considered for chief bridesmaid because she was not tall enough.

In the lead up to the wedding, Sierra and Harry had still not consummated their relationship. Sierra had insisted that no way she was going to her Wedding Night bed not having previously experienced Harry as a lover, which rather pleased him as he was ready.

While at the conference Harry became extremely fond of Nicola Fish, a fifty-three year old with a dynamic personality and teller of extremely foul jokes although all were heavily laced with humor. Over drinks one night when Fishhead was out with his mates she asked Harry to tell him about Sierra, and when he mentioned that crisis over 'wooing' she said, "Tell me more." Harry was nicely away on whisky - she only drank whisky - so virtually told her everything.

"My God, how utterly romantic," Nicola wept.

The night Harry arrived back home Sierra remained at his apartment and cooked dinner. She wanted to know everything he did socializing when away and didn't turn a hair when he told her he'd mentioned to Nicola Fish their decision to advance their relationship beyond wooing mode.

"Did you tell her much?"

"Quite a bit?"

"Did she cry?"

"Yes?"

"And then seduced you, I suppose."

"Sierra, for God's sake - she's old enough to be my mother."

"Indeed but you missed your chance there buddy."

Harry sat, mouth opened, until she spotted this and screamed with laughter, making him laugh. She came over to him and kissed him and said she rather liked him being loyal and true wooers could not be anything else.

A week before the wedding they accepted an invitation to go out with the Fish's for dinner and early that evening Harry, still at work, took a call from Peter saying they had decided to entertain them at their home, if that was okay, and Harry said fine. He called Sierra who said their home was cantilevered into a granite cliff face overlooking the sea at Granite Point, the most prestigious home around when built twenty years ago.

"You'll love it."

"I'll pick you up, you drive though."

Harry was expecting the Italian sports car, but Sierra told him she'd traded it weeks ago for the gray luxurious two-door Japanese soft-top sedan.

"This looks rather conservative for you," he said, somewhat startled, and she replied she was working on a new image. That really didn't surprise, as the change in her had been subtly 'morphed' over recent months and was now very evident.

As they headed for the populated southern arm of the harbor Sierra, looking at the sandbanks exposed by low tide, said, "I wonder if other people know sharks come into the harbor on the tide?"

"Perhaps they do, but does it really matter providing the sharks restrict their food intake to fish and crustaceans? This car is beautiful to drive with more than enough power for you."

"Yes," she sighed, "but I do miss the masculine raw grunt of my Italian sports car; it always made me feel so sexy."

She locked her fingers into his hand that rested on his thigh ready to return to the wheel at the next bend. He thought about sex and supposed she may be also thinking that as well. Time was running out, with the wedding exactly a week away. He'd better think of something - but didn't need to bother as they were about to find out that Nicola Fish had done that for them.

Everything was fabulous - the view, the grandeur of the impressively positioned and constructed home, the wines, the food, the company.

At eleven Nicola said: "You guys have had a lot to drink, though you were holding back, Harry. Why don't you stay the night - we have beds galore?"

Sierra looked at Harry, he nodded, and she accepted graciously.

A few minutes later the hosts left the room.

Sierra and Harry heard a car start up and Nicola raced up to them, placed a bottle of French champagne and two flutes in front of her guests and left just as abruptly.

Sierra picked up a card that was under the bottle and read it with eyes wide open surprise.

Goodnight you two, Peter and I have arranged to sleep at my sister's. We'll be back at 9:00 to cook you breakfast. Sleep in our room and open the doors. The wind is up, the surf is crashing so you may experience salt-laden air but don't worry - we love that, even if it means having to refurbish the room tri-annually."

Sierra talk to Harry about this. By now he will have guessed what this is about. I'll put the music on as I leave.

The music was playing but it wasn't Madam Butterflyand Harry's face fell.

"Don't worry darling," Sierra smiled. "This is a disk of famous love songs from opera; you can take it for granted it contains 'Un Bel Di.'

That brightened his face and he moved to her and sank his lips into Sierra's neck, just below her left ear,

Harry reached up and cupped her left breast and found it surprisingly firm. He touched the nipple, she jumped. It was erect, firm and obviously sensitive.

"I'm ready if you are, Harry. But it's your call. Decide whether you want to seduce me. You have spent several weeks bringing us to this point, Harry, and I have come to love you. I feel if I'm made to wait any longer I shall explode and die."

Her hand dropped and found his erection.

"You're ready too, Harry. Our time has come."

"Yes, I know, you have been electrifying me all evening. Let the real seduction begin," he said softly, and pulling her close opened his lips and her tongue found his.

Harry pushed Sierra backwards until her knees hit the sofa - he guided her fall at an angle so she came to rest on the pile of big fat pillows against the arm of the sofa. Arching her back despite his weight over her, Harry felt her fumble and the sound of a dress zip being pulled. She then pushed the thin straps off her shoulders and he eased the neck of her dress down, exposing a floral red and black bra which to his delight was front-fastened.

He worked on kissing her lips while unhooking those fasteners and exposed the lush breasts that he'd been coveting more and more in recent weeks.

"Do you like them being sucked?"

She nodded, teeth flashing and he slid his tongue between the light olive mounds of flesh until she turned slightly and a nipple virtually popped into his mouth, an event that filled him with desire and she began emitting small little moans.

He sucked and his hand wandered, finding she'd already hitched up the skirt of her dress for him. His hand halted.

Harry was nervous that his pace might be judged too slow for her.

But as if reading the self-doubt Sierra's hand found his, her legs opened and she hauled his hand to the top of her briefs and whispered, "Come on Harry."

He obeyed, gratefully.

He knew how to respond, bending slightly on to his knees.

Her hand left his and unzipped him, then slid under the elasticized top of his briefs to snare its target. Her fingers wrapping round his rigid erection as he slid a finger into her, then another.

Their first big occasion as lovers was underway.

"Oh darling, you're so beautifully moist and velvety soft," Harry whispered.

Sierra responded with a groan and deep tonguing him, her warm hand now cupping his balls, feeling the size of them he assumed. But not only that, her fingers began rolling his testicles, making his cock feel as if it was pushing the head right through its sheath.

It was his turn to groan.

Sierra placed a hand around her left breast and seemed intent of pushing as much as she could into his mouth and he opened wide.

"Lovely tit," he managed to say before her pushing and his wide-mouth sucking directed the fat nipple towards the back of his throat.

His comment was answered by a heavy squeeze of his testicles, making him jump. Then she seemed to become even wetter.

Harry didn't have to worry about the next move; Sierra's hand had withdrawn from inside his underpants to join her other hand working on his belt and the top fastening button under the belt buckle. He knew this was the signal to proceed further. He drew his knees back a little and lowered himself, feeling one of her hands now guiding the docking.

Warmth and wetness indicated his cockhead had entered her pussy - he rarely used the word vagina - and he pushed and bursts of her warm breath hit under his chin until he sensed there was not far to go so rammed forward and they both grunted as their crotches met with a light thump.

"Oh that's so lovely," Sierra sighed. "It's been so long for me I had a half-thought that I may have dried up and shrunk, becoming too small for you."

"It feels custom made for me," he praised and began rocking back and forwards. She rocked back and they hit their rhythm, their passions revved up by the obscene sound of thighs, wet with escaping fluids and the arrival of sweat, slapping together in rising tempo like the finale to a piece of erotic classical music.

"Don't think I can hold on too much longer as the excitement of shafting you at last is a little bit too much for me," he puffed.

"Me too," she panted and he felt her hand slip between then as she moved to finger her clit.

Her breathing became ragged and as her eyes rolled upwards, showing only the whites,

Harry nipped her nipple, she yelped and began shuddering, he feeling the walls of her pussy repeatedly spasm against his dick and more moisture leaking as she yelled "F-u-u-u-ck!

She shuddered hugely.

At that his balls tightened and he pulled out, and eyes closed unleashed an intense build-up.

"That was awesome," she thrilled but we're without a towel - just look at me!"

Harry looked and felt very proud, grunting, "There's more of that left if you're interested."

"Oh you romantic darling, of course I'm interested."

"Good, I'll fetch a couple of towels. We'll be better prepared in future."

Epilogue

It's three years since Jenni and her team relocate in South London. But soon the greatly enlarged editorial division, advertising division and most of administration return to that former JJ Publications Ltd site now covered by an almost completed three-level building.

On the roof of the company's new headquarters of Zephyr Media revolves a bright yellow restored English Ford Zephyr sedan that is floodlit at night. The neighbourhood has been redeveloped with a mix of office and residential accommodation. Leo's has a branch there called Jason's, a small take-out food bar attached to the company's catering division.

Rhonda is now married to Ludvik. Jenni went to the wedding in Sweden. Rhonda is office manager of Ludvik's fish processing machinery exporting business in Göteborg, She has emailed Jenni to say that they have decided it's time to have a baby, adding the interesting titbit that her mother Brigetta is being courted by Rhonda's divorced father-in-law.

Lord and Lady Barcote live in the Far East where Lord Barcote is a UN negotiator for three adjoining countries. Their elder daughter Haley has two children while Marissa is assistant marketing manager in France for a manufacturer of mountain and hiking apparel.

Mace Matthews is a presenter on TV in Canada and Charmaine is still presenting Behind the Headlines, fighting the station assassins attempting to replace her with a much younger woman, the girl-friend of the female producer.

Colette Illes is happily married to her surgeon and they have a new-born called Esmeralda. Colette wanted a distinctive name for her daughter because the family surname is Smith.

Long retired headmistress Miss Childs is still alive, and although no longer writing her column for My Magazine sends a sizzling poem to Jenni every so often as a reminder that her facilities are still intact.

Among the deceased are Jenni's birth father lawyer Tom Bennett and her surrogate father, Anthony Burrows and Victor Henchman (his wife Isabela lives back in Spain).

Her real estate friend Tess Jordan has her own business broking agency with co-partner (business only) Peter Upton, considered to be the city's top consultant in corporate realty deals.

Accountant Garth Oliver has still not asked his business partner to become his bride but adores her. He becomes extremely nervous when she occasionally has this great urge in the office and whispers to him, "Lock the door and hit the carpet, lover."

David Brooks is still living in France still trying to find his best wine in the whole of France. Wife Lydia is having a double quest - to find the best cosmetician in all of France and trying to rid herself of her accent when speaking French that makes everyone smile and even burst out laughing. The French don't even seem to recognise that David has an accent.

Nico and Katarina remain unchanged, despite selling out to Zephyr Media Ltd for a great deal of money. They retained one of the penthouses on the building above land that formerly belonged to old Mr Stephan Kecic who's come back from Croatia with his daughter, both complaining that they felt so totally unwanted in a very foreign land that had been Mr Kecic's homeland.

Nickolas Duckworth was divorced by his wife after she found him in bed with Maria from Jersey but she relented and remarried him.

Maria's parents are doing fine and continue as residential caretakers of the former Brooks' home on Jersey now owned by Jenni Giles and husband Rhys.

Jenni and Rhys married just six months ago and Rhonda was maid of honour while the slimmed down sophisticate Brenda Simpson (since then becoming Timothy's wife) was chief bridesmaid. It was a church wedding and Jenni wore white, a fact noted by every caption writer when the wedding photographs were run in magazines as well as the morning newspaper.

That first awards evening for My Magazine was a triumph. JJ Publications picked up the award for Best New Magazine; Best Feature in any Magazine (The Secret Life of Lord Barcote - Jenni Giles), Best Composite Magazine Story (The Intimate Thoughts of Wives of MPs - staff of My Magazine), Best Front Cover (Mae Cheung, My Magazine), Reader's Choice of Best Magazine (My Magazine), Public's Choice of Best Writer (Jenni Giles, My Magazine's Lady Marcote Interview). Rhonda Flagstaff was runner-up in the Best New Columnist category.

Another crop of awards was received at the recent awards evening, including three top awards. My Magazine (editor Vivian Stanton) was named Magazine of the Year; Jennie Giles received the Publisher of the Year award on behalf of Zephyr Media and in the final presentation of the evening she was called up again to receive a special quinquennial award from the Magazine Publisher's Federation - Outstanding Magazine Journalist of the Past Three Years.

Rhys's father Maurice Cain, took Mrs Smart to the conference in Vienna and they now live as husband and wife in Brighton. Maurice thought he had finalised a deal with David Brooks, but Rhys told him to request another luncheon and to ask for more. David, fearing a succession of such boring luncheons, caved in.

Rhys couldn't believe it when his father returned from the first meeting to say that Zephyr wanted him to continue on as editor but that the magazine would be changed into a newspaper focusing on women office workers. He threw an uncharacteristic tantrum and stalked out and got drunk.