Sur La Mer

"Bonsoir, Keren. Ca va?"

"Bonsoir, Robert. Je vais bien, merci." I was just about to go down on him when Danica repeated her words from a few seconds earlier.

"Hey, Greenie -- got a little present for you."

I now found myself holding an erect penis in both hands and my heart began to pound.

The lights went on to reveal a naked Danica, bouncing on the spot, her cute little titties jiggling. "Surprise!"

The fourth member was a slightly older staff member, Alain who I had heard had just split from his wife. None of us were really fit for our next shift as Danica and I took delight in guiding them into our willing holes and I had the inestimable pleasure of watching her being spit-roasted before I suffered the same fate.

It was the night of my life as myself and a girl I thought I might be falling in love with embarked on another voyage of discovery together. We had always used condoms with Robert and tonight was no exception, but this time we removed them before the coup de grace and let them come on our breasts. I ran my fingers through the mess on Danica's left titty and held it up to her. She did the same to me and we enjoyed our first ever cum-kiss, watched on by two incredulous co-workers who could barely believe their luck.

I was truly on Cloud Nine. I had come to France hoping to get laid by some nice hunky guys and ended up being brought to my knees by a twenty-year old girl from Odessa on the Black Sea.

The next night, she pricked my bubble with a vengeance and I came crashing back to earth with a painful bump. I knew something was wrong from the moment she came back from her shift. She was quiet with me and seemed irritable. When I asked her what was wrong she burst into floods of tears. The night with the guys had been her leaving present to me. She had a new job and was off to an exclusive resort along the coast. We only had two days left together.

I was utterly stunned and now knew how Tasha must have felt when I got the job and she didn't. Danica said she had applied to them before we met and they had said there were no vacancies but they would keep her application on file and get back to her if anything arose. She almost forgot about it until they contacted her out of the blue. She never told me as she never expected to be selected.

The resort, Sur la Mer, was an island bolt-hole for the rich and famous some fifty kilometres away, close to Monaco and the Italian border. It had a reputation of being one of the best and most prestigious resorts in Europe.

The next four months were sheer purgatory. I missed my little blonde bombshell so much and I was shocked as to how empty I felt. We kept in touch via social media but our meetings were so rare they seemed to pass in an instant. Our shifts conspired against us and every meeting, somewhere halfway between our workplaces, began with a fevered and undignified clinch in the ladies' toilets at the station as we devoured each other and headed to our lunch spot with sticky, wet fingers.

As summer approached, I was seriously thinking of returning home. It was almost better to be denied access to her rather than the fleeting, stolen moments followed by weeks of emptiness.

One April morning, as I perused the EasyJet flight schedule, intent on ending my torture, Danica called me. "Hey Greenie, fancy a day out in sleazy old Monte Carlo next week?"

Did I ever? I was ordered to wear something nice as she had booked us a special lunch. The train ride was spectacular and I was glad I had decided not to go back home. She met me off the train and we must have garnered a few telling looks at our embrace, but if we did, we were oblivious. I dragged her towards the ladies, but she stopped me.

"No, not today lovely Greenie. Gotta wait. Got a surprise for you!"

She took my hand with a gamine grin on her face and swept me out of the station. When she held up a hand, I thought she was about to summon a taxi, but a deep blue van pulled up, emblazoned with the logo of the place where she now worked.

Sur la Mer.

I hugged her. "Ooh, going to take me on a tour?"

She put her hands on my shoulders, suddenly serious. "No babe. I hope I am going to get you a new job. I've got you an interview." She bit her lip, biting back a tear. "C'mon Greenie, knock 'em dead. I want you back, babe. Miss you so much."

For once in my life, I was utterly speechless. I held her so close I thought she would suffocate. I managed some sort of thanks and sat in stunned silence as we drove along the coast road towards the island paradise she now called home.

I knew the instant I saw the place that if I didn't get the job, I would be utterly devastated and would definitely head home. The place was idyllic, a hundred metres out in the Mediterranean, reached from the mainland by a causeway. At high tide, launches ferried staff and guests across the bay and there was a small dock and a helipad. The main hotel and restaurant area was in a faux chateau, the centrepiece of the island. A dozen or so villas were dotted around the grounds, some on rocky outcrops, hanging precariously over the waves. Vintage French cars dotted the landscape and the whole air of the place harked back to the Riviera of the Swinging Sixties.

After my interview, I sat on a terrace with Danica, sipping coffee and marvelling at the view back across the bay and the shoreline and the distance Alpes Maritimes. Monaco was around the headland to the west and the coast curving away to the north-east was in Italy, heading towards Genoa.

I wasn't nervous as I had no expectation. I was resolved to this being my last sight of Danica and I would soon be back in Cornwall, with not even Tasha to fall back on.

They had said it would be about an hour before they let me know. Therefore it was a shock to hear a discrete cough from behind me after only forty minutes. I turned to see Claudine, the General Manager and one of the three staff who had interviewed me, smiling and holding a big envelope under her arm. She held out her hand towards me and I barely heard her words for Danica's unseemly screech of joy.

"Bienvenu a Sur la Mer, Miss Green. We are delighted to have you on board!"

Three

My feet barely touched the ground in the first few weeks of landing at Sur la Mer. It was hard work, but again apart from some slight changes, the work was familiar and nothing new. The surroundings certainly were though, and I never tired of that view back to the mainland and doubted I ever would.

It was wonderful being back with Danica again and we took up where we left off, although there were no equivalents to Robert which was a little disappointing. The staff quarters were in the basement of the main hotel, known as Le Chateau and comprised of single rooms. There was no ban on fraternisation with other staff members but discretion was advised. That suited Danica and I and although our relationship was noted by some, there were a fair few gay couples on the male side, so there were no issues.

It was just a shame that the three guys we would definitely have tried our charms on were all in relationships -- two of them with each other.

I was assigned to three different stations in the first three weeks -- waitressing at the bistro, room service and bar work either in the main bar or by the infinity pool on the rooftop of Le Chateau. The view from there was even better than down below and the colours of the pool mesmerised me as I served drinks and canapes.

Above it was the crowning glory of the resort, the owner's private suite named after the nearby landmark of Cap Ferrat. Suite Cap Ferrat was spoken of in hushed tones by the staff and newbies like Danica and I would not be allowed even close to it. From the infinity pool it looked like a spaceship had landed on the roof, all chrome, glass and wood and I could easily imagine it in a science fiction movie. Apparently the owner used it as their main winter residence and in the summer it was let, usually free of charge, to the great and good who could afford it most. The names of movie stars, rockstars, tennis players and racing drivers amongst others who had stayed there read like a Who's Who of the last thirty years.

I loved it up there but I also loved working in the bistro. The food was the best I had ever tasted, despite it being the resort's third-string restaurant and I shuddered to think of what the three Michelin-starred main restaurant in Le Chateau would be like.

Maybe one day.

Room service was my least favourite service as it was damned hard work. I had never taken to arriving at a stranger's door, bearing gifts. In my early days back in Cornwall I had walked in on couples getting it on and on one occasion, I was sure the man I was delivering wine to was doing something he shouldn't under the bedclothes as I uncorked it. One or two girls -- and even one boy I knew of had been propositioned, although it had never happened to me.

At least not yet.

There were some quite large distances involved and I found my daily steps were covered quite easily and on some weekends or busy times, I could cover fifteen kilometres in a day. That wasn't so much of a problem as I loved walking the Cornish coast, so I was used to the distance. It was the fact that covering that distance carrying food and drink, even if it was pushing one of the electronic trolleys we used, took its toll. Soon, Danica and I were becoming experts in shoulder massages as well as honing our other, relatively new-found skills.

I may have disliked room service, but at least I had it to thank for changing my life. It didn't seem as though that was going to be the case when I was asked to deliver a bottle of vintage champagne to a location that came up on the iPad mini strapped to my wrist as 'VAM.'

'VAM' was the resort shorthand for Villa Alpes Maritimes, probably the most sought-after of the outside villas, set upon the highest of the various outcrops. Apparently the view from the picture window and balcony was something special.

I set up my trolley and wheeled it out of the main bar area onto one of the perimeter paths, where the electronics kicked in. It was nice to just wander along behind it as it wound its own sweet way to its destination and helped me get the lie of the land in no time. Inside Le Chateau or villas the electronics were disabled for safety, but we had very elegant copper wristbands that were programmed to let us open doors with a wave of our hands.

Its journey done, my trolley glided up to the door of the villa and I reached out to activate the intercom. I shouldn't have been surprised to see the door swing open as each guest had a telephone app that showed the progress of their order down to the nearest metre. I took control of my trolley and wheeled it in, trying not to stare open-mouthed at the opulence of the place, or the sheer, jaw-dropping view of the coastline through the massive floor-to-ceiling window. The place was vast, probably bigger than the entire block of ten apartments that housed my family home in Redruth for most of my life. Our flat would have comfortably fitted into the vestibule and there were doors off it and what looked like a mezzanine bedroom up a circular staircase that cut the main picture window in two.

I knew the recipient of the delivery was a female but there was no-one in sight. I stood in the middle of this incredible sanctuary and tried to summon up the courage to speak.

"Excusez-moi, Madame. Service de chambre." My voice seemed to get lost in the enormity of the surroundings.

I waited a moment and a figure appeared at the top of the staircase. It was certainly a female and she wore a yellow two-piece bikini, a broad brimmed sunhat and very little else. She smiled down at me from on high.

"Ah, merci, sur le balcon s'il vous plait!" She flicked a hand towards the large opening in the left wall.

"Certainement, Madame." I wheeled the trolley over and gasped out loud as I now saw the view without the window in the way. The balcony jutted out into the Med and the view in front of me was uninterrupted by anything man-made and I gasped at the beauty of the distant, snow-capped mountains.

I put the ice bucket with its precious cargo on the small table next to a lounger and shook my head in disbelief. As I did so, she spoke from the doorway.

"Quite the view, isn't it?" Her voice was soft but commanding.

I turned to see her leaning nonchalantly on the doorpost, smoke curling up from a black cigarette in a holder in her left hand. "C'est magnifique, Madame. Encroyable."

She laughed and took a pull on her holder. "Your French is impeccable young lady, but you are as English as I am. Please, save a poor middle-aged lady the embarrassment of delivering her A-level French, which is now largely forgotten in the mists of time."

I had been told to be friendly with the guests if they seemed they would be happy with it, but not overly familiar. I took the woman to be in her late thirties and she was very good looking and still had a body to die for. "Certainly, Madame, but I think Madame is neither middle-aged nor lacking in her linguistic skills. She is doing herself an injustice."

She blew out smoke and smiled at me, leaning forward to see my name tag. "Thank you... Keren. Keren Green, eh? I have lived here for twenty years, so I have picked up the odd phrase. Nice name, nice accent. West country girl? Devon? Cornwall?"

I inclined my head. "I'm a Kernow girl alright Madame and I am impressed you would notice."

She moved past me and stood by the lounger. "Spent many a happy time in my teens down that way. Lovely part of the world. So what brings a delightful young lass like you down to this neck of the woods?"

I hadn't expected an inquisition, but it was nice to talk with a guest after so many brief encounters. "First it was a holiday with a friend. Then I got a job along the coast near Cannes. A girl I met there got a job here and somehow got me an interview. I've been here three weeks and I am still pinching myself."

She smiled. "And you still will be if you are here at my age, Keren. It never gets old. So, I hope that before you started on the hard work, you got plenty of sun, sand and sex? I certainly got two of those things in my time in Cornwall." She twisted her mouth. "Sun didn't shine much though..."

I felt the same frisson of excitement I had when I had first given in to Danica but I dared not let it show. Instead, I feigned self-modesty and smiled demurely. "I couldn't possibly say, Madame. May I open your champagne?"

Something about her just fascinated me. She was so confident in her own skin and exuded a powerful, commanding presence. Even though she was around my size she seemed to tower over me, oozing sexuality. I wished I could see her eyes but they were hidden behind a pair of Raybans that would have cost me a month's wages.

Her smile was almost hidden by another plume of smoke. Why did she look so damned sexy when she did that? "Shame, I do so love a salacious tale. Now I shall never know. Oh and thank you, but I'll wait until my guest arrives for the champers."

I decided to play her little game. "Thank you, and - never say never, Madame." I took a step back towards the villa.

"Oh, I never do, Miss Green. It is not a word I am familiar with." She held up her cigarette. "May I count on your discretion? I clearly broke the rules by lighting this before I came outside."

In reply, I made a zipping motion across my lips. "Enjoy your champagne and the rest of your day, Madame."

"Oh, I will, young Keren. I certainly will. Lovely talking with you. And for your trouble, there is something for you on the dresser inside the door."

I nodded my thanks. "Merci, Madame. Vous etes tres gentile."

As I did a double take at what was on the dresser, there was a throaty chuckle behind me. "Choose carefully, Keren. Please don't spoil my afternoon."

I picked up the twenty Euro bill and turned back to her, trying to keep my voice level. "Merci encore, Madame. I'll leave the rest for your delectation."

As my empty trolley glided back down the path towards Le Chateau, I wondered what her reaction would have been if instead of the money, I had chosen the G-spot vibrator, black strap-on or nine inch dildo that also adorned the dresser.

The rest of my shift went by in a blur as I tried to imagine what she got up to for the rest of the afternoon, and with whom.

When Danica came back late from her shift, apologising for doing extra hours and crying off our usual end to the evening, it never occurred to me to put two and two together. It would be a few weeks before I was able to do that simple arithmetic.

For the next few days, I hoped to get another visit to the enigmatic woman in 'VAM' but by the time I was back on bar duty, I remained disappointed. Danica and I were back in full swing after her little time-out and we were very taken with the double-ended strap-on she had ordered from our now favourite online adult shop.

Well, that was where she said it came from, so who was I to argue?

I liked working in the main bar. The huge glass and steel atrium at the centre of Le Chateau was a clearing house for the two restaurants that adjoined it and it was always buzzing with beautiful people in their finery, drinking ridiculously priced wines and a range of cocktails that made the lovely and talented Robert look like a trainee barman from a back street boozer in Redruth.

Gaston, the junior sommelier sent me my latest order for table nine via my iPad mini. I nodded across the bar to him, wishing he wasn't an item with one of the sous-chefs in the bistro. They were both utterly gorgeous, but oblivious to the charms of a horny Cornish lass and her Ukrainian girlfriend.

It was a young, refreshing bottle of wine, perfect for a pre-dinner drink, but it was at the top of the huge floor-to-ceiling chiller cabinet that dominated the wall behind the bar. It looked utterly spectacular and Danica and I once tried to work out how much wine was in there and how much it would cost. When Gaston told us, we stood like goldfish, wondering how many years we would have to work at Sur la Mer to afford even one rack of the stuff.

I rolled the ladder along on its rail and clambered up, hoping it would be my only such order of the night. Sometimes a night in the bar could be as exhausting as a day on room service. Back at ground level I set it in a cooler, made sure the two glasses were clean and chilled and strode purposefully towards table nine. The woman had her head down, hard at work on her social media on her phone.

"Bonsoir Madame, comment allez-vous ce soir? Votre vin, si vous plait."

She never looked up. "I'm just fine and dandy, thank you Keren. How is my favourite room service girl tonight?" She now looked up and smiled playfully. "Have you been avoiding me?"

My heart leapt as I put down the wine. "Absolutely not, Madame. My apologies. The last time I saw you, you wore a hat and sunglasses. I didn't recognise you tonight."

This time I could see her eyes and they bored into mine like green lasers. "I suppose if I wore the bikini and the sex toys were on the table, it would have been more obvious?"

"Possibly Madame, but I would have to ask you to leave as you are inappropriately dressed. May I pour your wine?"

"You may, Keren. And please, call me Vanessa."

I took the bottle from the cooler. "Maybe in your villa, Madame." I looked around the room. "Mais pas ici." I switched to a real Cornish burr. "Mor'n moi job's worth, comme on dit in Newquay."

She laughed. "Oim sure you do. I like you Keren - you have spirit and you are fun. Most of the staff are polite and reserved, but you... you have something about you. Now, please do the honours if you don't mind."