Palmer: Fashion Week Ch. 01

Chapter 1 — SUNDAY — Dubai Fashion Show

Jack Palmer stood on the mezzanine, high above the stage, watching Roxanne stride sexily across the catwalk. He was away from the main hub of celebrities, but was still close enough to be able to savour his girlfriend as she strutted her stuff.

His girlfriend! Even after six months together, he was still in disbelief.

Roxanne Lopez had been a household name in fashion circles before they'd become an item. Since then, she had introduced him to a new, sexier, world full of late night parties and beautiful people. The trouble was, there were times he felt like a fish out of water.

He loved Roxie, but the differences in their lifeStiles had become clearer and clearer as time went on. Incompatible? He hoped not. But no matter how much he tried, he was never going to fit in with her 'celebrity' friends. They seemed to prioritise having a good time above everything else.

Nor did he care for the seedier side of the world Roxie inhabited. His years as a detective in the London Met's Vice Division had shown him the negative side of the fashion industry, and he was beginning to think that prostitution and drugs were the norm, not the exception.

Or was his judgment still clouded by the Dominic DeVere case? The fashion entrepreneur had been manipulating the political scene using laundered money that had been made from his illegal activities. Palmer and the team had eventually blown the case apart, but at what cost? Despite their success, the powers that be had decided to cover their own inadequacies.

After the shoot out with one of the most dangerous assassins in Europe, the Commissioner of the Met had been put under pressure by the current Government and Palmer—despite his heroic efforts—had been forced to resign and sign documents to confirm he'd never publicly discuss the case.

The only consolation was that he'd met Roxanne during the investigation. He'd saved her life, in fact, and they'd fallen in love. Once he'd been released from hospital they'd begun to build a new life together, but quickly realised they needed to find work again. He'd become a private investigator and Roxie had returned to the modelling industry she knew best.

He glanced back towards Roxanne as she reached the end of the catwalk. Her glossy red locks were dancing loosely around her tanned shoulders and she'd adopted that sexy model-pose that always made his cock lengthen—her shoulders back, breasts thrust forward and one hand on her hip.

The collective eyes of the audience were focused on her as she posed for a moment, before turning and returning the way she'd come. He couldn't help but smile in admiration. This beautiful woman with such a stunning figure and sparkling personality was all his. Perhaps he'd feel less nostalgic after they'd made love later? He usually did.

Making love to Roxie always made him feel better.

He took a sip of water as he watched her head off-stage, thankful for the air-conditioning. Outside, the desert heat was a blistering 105. He was told that was chilly for Dubai in the summer. But the ridiculously hot weather wasn't a factor where there was money to be made. The fashion-modelling world was even more about the money than it was about the sex.

The irony was that he'd spent his entire working career fighting that sort of sleazy world and now he was part of it.

*

Nikolay Volkov's Dubai office could best be described as masculine. The furniture was contemporary, mainly things made of black leather, but the desk that dominated the room was all dark wood and steel.

Right now, the Russian was putting it too good use. His immaculate trousers were around his ankles and his tailored shirt was bunched up at his waist, while the firm hand he'd placed in the middle of the woman's back held her bent forward over the desk top while he fucked her.

His personal secretary was a sophisticated woman with a body to die for, even if there wasn't much between her ears. She'd actually resisted his early advances for some time—she had been only recently married, after all, and would never dream of cheating on her husband.

Then he'd introduced her to the decadent lifestyle for which he was famed. She'd first succumbed after a party-cum-orgy in Monte Carlo and he'd fucked her again on his private yacht moored off the Bahamas. After that, she was his whenever he wanted. It had been worth the wait. Not only had she displayed a wild side he could never have imagined, she had shown herself to be an insatiable bitch.

"You like that, Angela?" he murmured, as he slowed his pace.

If he wasn't careful, he was going to blow. This amazing woman was so fucking tight.

"Ngh ... fuck ... yes," she gasped, her breath a harsh rasp.

Volkov grinned. Her upper class accent came through even when she was cursing. He imagined it would be how English royalty spoke when they were on the job. Perhaps he'd have a chance to find out one day?

His successful international Modelling Agency was an essential part of his vast business empire and he'd be using the week to promote it further. The Russian's achievements had been built on gradually expanding his activities world-wide, and the Dubai Fashion Show was a natural next step.

But it was so much more...

The surreptitious deal he was striking with Sheikh Amir bin Khalid would provide access to the key people across the region who could deliver the favours he needed. The amount of bribes needed were chicken feed compared to the potential rewards, but those inducements were all the more powerful when they were accompanied by an additional 'sweetener'.

That's where his girls came in. What man, however influential, could resist the opportunity to fuck a world famous model?

He smiled at the thought, and then glanced at his reflection in the mirror opposite his desk. It wasn't just models who proved to be great fucks. His secretary was every bit as uninhibited. For someone with such a posh accent, Angela could be such a slut.

It was such a sexy combination.

She caught him looking at their reflections in the mirror and smiled coyly. Her white blouse was unbuttoned and he'd yanked her pink bra above her pendulous tits. They bounced erotically with each of his thrusts. Her tight black skirt was rucked up to her hips, and her skimpy black thong stretching to its maximum around her ankles as she spread her legs even further for him.

With a growl of acknowledgement, he slid both hands under her hot body, cupping her ripe tits as she pumped that curvy ass back into his groin. There wasn't any doubt about it—she was getting to him now.

Would Roxanne Lopez be as good a fuck as this woman? He'd be finding out soon...

The redhead was the latest addition to his stable of models and her recruitment had been quite a coup. She'd been one of Europe's best known models before the situation with Dominic DeVere had unravelled and word had it that she had subsequently given up her modelling career.

Getting her onside had been an unexpected accomplishment.

Volkov knew that she'd been DeVere's number one girl, one who could be relied on when a particularly important client needed 'attention'. She might think those times were behind her, she was mistaken. Once he'd taken care of that ex-cop boyfriend of hers, he intended to use her the same way.

The first step would take place in less than an hour, when he would introduce her to the initiation ceremony he adopted with all his new models. Once she'd given him what he wanted, he'd have her heading down the slippery slope he loved so much...

*

Final outfit, Roxanne thought. Make this one count! The stylist had made sure the strapless tube dress hugged her full curves just as the designer had intended. It molded to her full tits, barely covering her caramel nipples. One slip and she'd be exposed, although such a finely crafted dress wasn't going to slip.

Work it, girl, she told herself as she took her place behind the screen at the beginning of the catwalk. She breathed through her nose, finding her inner Zen. Her yoga was paying off.

Large cutouts on either side of the bright orange and red dress exposed most of her tapered midriff, dipping low along her hips. The dress was short, too, although Kaeko had extended its length with more of the gossamer material that bounced and swished around her long legs—covering without really covering at all.

Adrenalin surged down her superb body as she stepped once again onto the long, black stage. She didn't know how much she missed these kinds of moments until they had disappeared.

The past six months with Jack had been blissful, but deep down she knew she was becoming restless. She'd fallen in love with him, something she'd never have thought possible, and for a time that be enough. But when Nikolay Volkov had called and made his offer, her need to resume her career had struck her like a thunderbolt.

Jack had been great about it. She knew what he thought about the modelling business, and who could blame him after his experiences? But denying her calling was like denying herself sex. In return for his support, she'd been careful not to get too caught up in it, staying away from the parties and nightlife and treating it—as much as she could—like a 9-to-5 job.

Yet as she drew everyone's eye with her stroll down the catwalk, she knew it was anything but. A model had to work some seriously long hours. Thank God that Jack was able to be there with her.

The cheers that accompanied her entrance made her body surge. Surrounded by so many rich, influential and beautiful men and women were supercharging her libido. Last night, she had to force herself to go to sleep after fucking Jack for five continuous hours. And even now, her pussy was swollen with anticipation of more sex later tonight.

She stopped at the end of the runway, posing for the bay of cameras. She knew Jack was out there, somewhere. That sent a sizzle down her spine.

Her nipples were hard and visible through her tight top. She didn't need to glance down to know that. Thrusting her chest out even harder, she smirked at the crowd before spinning, gliding and flouncing off the platform. By the time she reached backstage, she was practically overheating with lust.

She was going to have to find Jack before the cocktail party and temporarily sate her need. Maybe a blow job! That would do for starters. The main course would follow when they got back to their room.

*

"I'll take a Cosmopolitan," a woman's sultry voice asked to Palmer's right.

He'd been waiting for Roxanne for the past hour and after two drinks and not a whole lot of food, he was feeling the effects of the alcohol. Roxie had texted him an apology, explaining that she'd been caught up in some media blitz, but would be there shortly.

Glancing sideways at the woman, he immediately recognized her as an African model that had walked the runway shortly before Roxie. Her name was Jade, he remembered, and her fabulous body put some of the thinner models to shame. But then, he'd always preferred curvaceous women.

"Hello, baby," she said, greeting Palmer with a smile as their eyes met.

"Hi," he responded lamely, trying not to stare. "I'm sorry, I'm just ... erm ... waiting for someone."

God, that was even lamer.

"Let me guess," she said, her mischievous smile widening. "You're looking for that special someone and I fit the bill?"

When his face instantly coloured, she let out a delightful laugh and ran her long fingers down the slope of her heavy cleavage.

"Well, what do you think? Do you approve?"

Palmer tried but failed to keep his eyes on her face. Her dark breasts provided a wonderful contrast to the white camisole top. His throat was dry.

"Don't look so worried," she said, laughing again. "Roxie texted me earlier and asked if I would keep you company."

She made a show of looking up and down his lean frame.

"And that's going to be my pleasure. I like the rugged, handsome type. You remind me of Superman."

Palmer shrugged. If he had a pound for every time he'd been told that, he'd be a rich man.

"I could be one of your adversaries," she teased, as she accepted her drink from the bartender. "How about you call me 'African Jade'? I like that. No-one has the power to escape my clutches, not even Superman."

Palmer ran his hand through his dark hair, for some reason suddenly imagining Superman and 'African Jade' locked in an embrace. It didn't help when the woman leant forward on the bar, one leg out straight, and the other bent enough to push her tight ass out. Her short black skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs.

"So, did you catch the Kaeko Miyamoto show?" she asked, taking a sip of her pink liquor.

"I did," he answered, grateful for the sudden change of subject. His cock had been slowly unfurling with every word. "It seemed successful."

"Oh, you have no idea!" she said gleefully. "The critics are already giving us rave reviews, and we're only on day one."

Setting the drink down, she shot him a confidential look and draped her hand over his arm. This close, her glistening skin smelled like coconut

"Truthfully, I think a lot has to do with your new girlfriend. Roxie's return is being treated like the Second Coming."

She gave a sly smiled as she saw his proud reaction to the mention of Roxanne's name. If he knew where his precious girlfriend was now, he wouldn't be feeling so self-righteous. That thought made her chuckle.

"She's put Volkov Modelling in the spotlight," she softly added. "And that has to be good for the fashion world as a whole."

"You know Volkov?" he asked, feeling himself tense up at the mention of the Russian's name.

"I do," she nodded, batting her long, dark lashes. "But then everyone knows Nikolay Volkov."

She laughed to herself before continuing.

"Mind you, he thinks he's God's gift to women. "Hugh Hefner in his prime. You just have to know how to handle him."

"And you do?"

Jade raised her eyebrows as she gave him a knowing smile.

"I know hot to handle all men," she teased. "But as for Volkov, let's just say I know what he's capable of."

She let the remark hang between them as she ran her hand through her thick curly hair. It was like reeling in a fish. He'd want to know exactly what she knew about Volkov and would come to her looking for answers. In the meantime, her next move was already planned.

*

Roxanne sat quietly on the couch, listening to Nikolay Volkov as he paced the floor. The Russian multi-millionaire had frosted blonde hair with dark highlights, a week-old growth of facial hair, and a body as slender as a knife. The sort of look she'd always found attractive.

But it wasn't his looks that were preoccupying her thoughts. It was the lucrative contract he was dangling in front of her. So far, she'd signed with him specifically to do the Dubai Fashion week. Now he was offering her a longer term contract, one that was worth more money than she could ever have dreamed about. It would safeguard her and Jack's future.

But there was a price to pay...

Every top model who had ever worked for Volkov had paid it. The initiation ceremony was well known in 'inner' circles. It was the Russian's way of flexing his muscle, ensuring his models gave him the respect he craved. The dilemma was making her head heavy with anxiety. If she refused him, she could wave goodbye to her future career, to financial security. And if she succumbed, then she was risking her relationship with Jack.

"It is your choice, Roxanne" he was telling her now, carefully bringing his hands to his trousers and slowly unbuckling the belt. "The contract is here to be signed. But first I need your show of loyalty."

She watched almost hypnotically, a mixture of horror and fascination in her eyes as he began to expose himself. The room was silent but for the clink of its clasp and when he drew the zipper of his trousers down and pulled out his dick, he was semi-erect and already impressive.

"Your choice," he repeated, his Russian accent thick and commanding as he fixed his steely gaze on hers. "Make it now."

Roxanne felt her heart leap into her throat. She wanted to speak, to object, but no words would come out. Every decent fibre of her being was telling her to turn around and walk out, but that wicked voice in the back of her mind was insisting that this was a small price to pay. She loved Jack, but the voice pointed out she was doing this for him as well as her.

If she did as she was told right now, commit this one lewd act, she could then get back to Jack, her new life and start to rebuild her career.

With that final thought in mind, she took two hesitant steps towards him. Her eyes avoided his as he rested his hands on her shoulders and pushed her downwards. You've done this so many times before, she told herself as she sank to her knees. This is just one more.

"That's it," Volkov commanded, his voice full of anticipation. "Show me how a supermodel sucks dick..."

Roxanne acted mechanically, wrapping her fingers around his thick girth and dipping her head. A surge of disgust ran through her and she almost gagged as she took him between her lips. Get it over with, she told herself, and get back to Jack, her love. This was a means to an end, nothing else.

But ... then ... instinct kicked in.

The Russian mogul was so hard, hard for her. In these moments she'd always felt that she was the one with the power, not the man. That thought had never failed to turn her on. Tightening her fingers around his veiny flesh, she dipped her head again and swallowed as much of his hardness as she could.

"Fuck, yes, like that..."

Volkov's hands tightly gripped her wavy red hair, holding her there as he pushed himself in and out of her mouth.

She knew instantly from the taste that he'd had sex recently. Very recently. But that realisation didn't deter her. If anything, it excited her. She cupped his testicles with her right hand, rolling them in her palm as she sucked him. When he groaned out loud, she lowered her head further to take each of his balls between her lips.

"Oh yes," he gasped in surprise. "I knew you'd be this good."

Yes. Yes, she was this good. And as soon as she was finished here, she'd be using her skills on Jack. He was going to love the surprise she had for him.

When Volkov started to thrust between her lips, she knew it was his way of wrestling the control back from her. She wanted to tell him to ease off and let her do the work but that was impossible with her mouth so full. She gave up trying to direct his thrusting hips and instead sucked harder, leaving him nowhere to go other than to explode in her mouth.

Reaching both hands behind him, she gripped his ass as she took each burst as best she could, swallowing hard before accepting the next offering.

It was only when he had nothing left to give that she slumped back against the desk, panting from her exertions and the emotion of it all. Had she really enjoyed it that much? She bashfully looked up to see Volkov tucking his dick back into his trousers. His satisfied grin made her blush.

"You were everything I expected," he murmured, breathing deeply as he smiled down at her. "Once my lawyers have drawn that contract up, we'll have to put your other skills to the test..."

*

"Speak of the devil," Jade said, glancing over Palmer's shoulder.

He turned and followed her gaze. Roxie had entered the room, with a guy who had his arm around her waist. He wore a black suit that shimmered with a tinge of something metallic. With his short-cropped hair, unshaven face, and designer shades, he could have been a blonde Bono.

"That's Volkov?" he asked, instinctively knowing the answer.

He hated the Russian instantly.

"The one and only," Jade breathed.