Sur La Mer

I was forgotten for a moment as she went back to her phone. I busied myself with the bottle and appraised her surreptitiously. Her hair was dark and fell in natural waves to her shoulders. Her mouth was wide and full-lipped and her nose long and almost aquiline. For her age, she was a stunningly attractive and elegant lady. Her simple, clinging black cocktail dress showed off her ample curves very nicely and enhanced an alluring cleavage. It all added up to an impressive package that would turn most men's heads, never mind a twenty-three year old waitress with a new-found affinity for her own gender.

Then there were those eyes. The things that took the lady I now knew as Vanessa to another level. They were slightly hooded and sparkled with life and intensity. They enhanced every nuance on her expressive face and had fixed me with such intensity that I could barely think straight when confronted by them.

Having done the necessary with the foil cutter and the corkscrew, I held out the cork to her. "Madame?"

Without an upwards glance, she took my hand and held the cork under her nose, inhaling deeply. Her fingers squeezed mine and she held her breath for a moment before releasing me without a word.

"Would Madame care to sample her wine?"

Those lasers fixed me from below. "No, Keren. I shall trust your knowledge, which you must have to work here. You shall be my nose and taste buds. Please, taste on my behalf and give me your honest judgement."

I had taken a few wine tasting courses over the years and was grateful for my training. I may only be able to afford Vin Ordinaire but I still knew my Beaujolais Nouveau from my Chateauneuf du Pape. I poured a drop into the glass, swirled it around, then did the mouthwash thing that never seemed to make any difference to me. I was unable to spit it out so broke a house rule and swallowed it. After all, a wealthy guest had asked me my opinion, so who was I to argue?

"Well Madame, it is a young but vibrant wine, with overtones of lemongrass, kiwi fruit and a hint of honey. Perfect for a pre-dinner aperitif. Our sommelier works closely with the vineyard on a number of our exclusive wines and this is a perfect example of how the local terroire influences the taste of this unassuming but still remarkably complex vintage."

She regarded me with amusement. "So it's not cat's piss then?"

I picked up the bottle. "Ah, apologies Madame - I missed the bit about feline urine. I thought it was piss-de-chien. Lost in translation, you understand."

She picked up the glass and held it out to me. "You, my dear girl are a class act. Will you be doing the honours in there tonight?" Her head inclined towards the huge glass door of the three-starred restaurant.

I poured her wine. "Alas, Madame I need to work on the difference between cat's wee and doggie wee for a few more years before I am allowed within those hallowed portals. Would Madame be so kind as to sign on my pad for her bottle of unmentionable animal excretion?"

She took my stylus and scribbled something with a flourish. "I am in two minds, Keren."

"About what, Madame?"

"Whether to report you for gross impertinence or put you forward for employee of the month."

I smiled. "As long as I make an impression one way or the other..." I leaned in close. "Vanessa." I straightened up. "Well, enjoy your evening Madame and I hope to see you soon."

"You too, sweet girl. And I will enjoy, darling." She handed me a twenty Euro bill and gazed over my shoulder. "Ah, Serge, mon chéri, perfect timing as ever!"

When I turned around I was under no illusions that Vanessa would enjoy her evening. Serge was an absolute dreamboat. Heads turned at the sight of this fortyish Adonis with swept back shoulder length hair and craggy Gallic looks. Women of a certain age cricked their necks to get a better view and a Cornish girl in her early twenties returned to the bar with an empty tray and a little twinge down below.

I tried to read her signature on my pad, but all I could make out other than her initial 'V' were three more letters, 'deL' before the stylus stroke swept upwards like a comet trail.

I couldn't wait for Danica to return after my shift, but once again, I was disappointed. She stood at the bottom of the bed like an automaton, arms by her side. She then raised them above her head and fell face first onto the bed, legs sticking up in the air. Her voice was muffled by the bedclothes.

"Sozzy babes. Long shift. Danni sleepy."

And with that, she was gone.

I had never known anyone who could fall asleep at the drop of a hat like Danica Antonova. I straightened her legs and covered her with the sheet, still in her uniform. It was like being back with Jack, rubbing one out, imagining Vanessa going down on Serge and him exploding over her breasts and beautiful, arrogant face.

I still cannot believe that I was so naive not to realise that Serge had just exploded over Danica's breasts and sweet face as well as Vanessa's.

Then, just over a week later, Vanessa made her move on me.

Four

When I got the call to deliver a bottle of fine bubbles to her villa at the end of my shift, I knew the game was on. My decision was already made if she came on to me. I decided against a trolley as I hoped I would not be back. When her door swung open, I had to catch my breath.

She was lounging on a chaise longue next to a low table in dark grey lycra workout gear, smoke curling up from her cigarette. I narrowed my eyes and shook my head in admonishment.

"I've already bought your silence, Keren. Not a fucking word - I've paid a fortune to inhabit this little beach hut for the summer and I'll happily pay for the fumigation before I move on. So once again, turn a blind eye and be a dear and pop the bubbles down here, will you please."

I did as I was bid. She acted like she owned the place, so it was her problem, not mine. "Certainly Vanessa. Hope you enjoyed your evening last week." I busied myself with the cork.

She looked like the cat that got the cream. "I did indeed, young lady. A lovely meal with a very dear friend."

I doubted that was the extent of it, but I held my council as the cork popped. "May I do the honours?"

"Indeed you may, and pour a glass for yourself, my dear."

Yes, we were on! I decided to have a little fun of my own. "Thank you Vanessa, but I am on duty. Strictly forbidden to imbibe alcohol."

She nodded sagely. "Quite correct, but by my watch it is five minutes past six and the day shift ends at six. So either you are working overtime or in your own leisure time." She gestured to one of the glasses, then to the chair opposite. "So please, I insist. You work bloody hard and deserve a little treat."

I thanked her and poured two glasses. She touched hers to mine and I sat down. I was used to Prosecco at best and the first sip probably cost more than the last bottle Danica and I had shared.

Vanessa looked me up and down appraisingly. "That uniform suits you. I didn't have you in mind when I designed it, but you wear it well."

I looked at her in amazement. "Wow, I'm impressed. I love the design. Are you a fashion designer then?"

"I'm a lot of things, Keren but no - I am very good friends with the General Manager and I showed her some scribbles I made. She liked them and now lovely girls like you make the results look good."

I really did love the design and told her so. "I've worn a few shockers but this is a cut above. It's so sixties and I love the way the bands of blue remind me of the infinity pool. I hate wearing hats but the cap is so cool."

"Thank you and yes, I love the sixties look. I binge-watched a boxset of an airline drama set in the sixties and their uniforms resonated with me, so I used them for inspiration. If I could spirit myself back to that time, I would in a heartbeat. "

I pointed to her cigarette holder. "Hence the holder? Very swinging sixties."

She gave me a wry look. "In part, but I'll need to know you a little better before I give you the full monte on that little tale! But how remiss of me - do you?" She indicated a silver cigarette case on the table.

I shook my head. "Not anymore."

"Shame, I do like seeing a pretty girl smoke. But sensible of you. Teenage phase?"

I recalled a bad six months when my stepfather came into my life. "Yes - I rebelled a bit aged seventeen. Did a few things I regret - pills, smoking, a bit of dope. Not a good time, but I saw sense."

"Good girl. I was a bit silly when I first came down to this neck of the woods. Went at it full tilt and hoovered up the gross national product of a small nation before I cleaned my act up." Another wry look. "Well, in one department, anyway."

Then came the kicker. "I try to limit myself to smoking before and after sex these days." Her eyes bored into mine.

"So you smoke a lot then?"

Her laugh was genuine and hearty. "Keren, I really am going to put you forward for employee of the month. Sorry my dear - I am so bloody obvious, but I am used to getting what I want." She took a long final pull on her holder and stubbed it out, her eyes now blazing. "So not to beat about the bush, Miss Green, would you do me inestimable honour of lying with me in sexual congress this evening?"

I drained my glass and held her gaze. "Thought you'd never fucking ask, Madame. More champagne?"

She held out her glass and gave me a strange, searching look as I refilled it. "Keren are you doing this of your own volition or do you feel pressured by a rich guest who may actually intimidate you?"

I was a little taken aback to say the least. "Rest assured, Vanessa - no-one intimidates me. You are a wealthy lady and I am a waitress, but as my good friend Tasha would say, you still bleed every month. You fart and scratch your arse when nobody is looking."

She glared at me. "How dare you, young lady. I do nothing of the sort. I will scratch my arse when it pleases me and my farts are legendary!"

We both lost it for a moment as the absurdity of the situation washed over me. I shook my head in disbelief. "I've barely spent five minutes in your company and I've already agreed to spend the night with you. Who the fuck are you, Vanessa?"

She lit another cigarette. "Oh dear girl, I haven't a fucking clue. If you're still around when I find out, I'll be happy to tell you, but we may both be old and grey by then."

"Ok then - what are you?"

"An easier question. How shall I describe myself?" She closed her eyes for a moment and made some inroads into her cigarette and champagne. "I'm a facilitator. I make dreams come true for people like you - beautiful, sexy, intelligent girls and boys in whom I see some promise. In the process, I also make my own dreams come true."

I was now very interested, but I played it low key. "Such as?"

"What do you think? That three letter word that some find offensive but others crave. It all comes down to sex with me, Keren. I live for it. I allow others to live out their fantasies. I can make it happen. I could make you a very well-off young lady. Escorting, parties, orgies. Modelling, porn - I could say the sky is your limit, but I never set my sights that low."

All I could hear in my head were my words to Tasha. "There has to be something more than this." At that moment, I was being offered a chance of more than this by a very compelling lady. I so wanted to believe her and something hit me between the eyes with a rock-solid certainty.

Whatever she was offering, I wanted to be part of it.

I sipped my wine and tried to keep a lid on my emotions. "There are people in the news at the moment who have also provided those sort of services. Some are behind bars, some are mercifully deceased. Somehow I don't think you are like them, but I need to be sure. I'm interested, Vanessa. What can you say to convince me you are not like them?"

Her voice was calm and even. "Well said, Keren. Well said indeed. What I said a few minutes ago is something of a mantra for me -- about it being your decision. Believe me, I am not like those people - nor are my friends. You would never need recourse to crystal paperweights and kinky boots as I did."

There was obviously a tale brewing and I was utterly intrigued. "Vanessa, I am twenty-three years old and I wait tables and provide room service. As you so rightly observed the first time we met, I came to France looking to get fucked rotten."

A laugh interrupted me. "See - never say never!"

"Told you, didn't I. Well, Vanessa, believe it or not, I love sex as well. So come on, mysterious, enigmatic Vanessa whoever and whatever you are. It is now six-thirty. I'll give you until seven to convince me."

She held out her glass once more and touched it to mine. "And if I fail?"

"I'll still sleep with you."

"Why?"

"Because I'm damned sure you will be a great fuck, Madame."

She inclined her head. "Oh I am, Keren Green. Believe it. OK - the unvarnished truth - well, as much as I am prepared to divulge on night one. Ready?"

I prayed she would convince me. "Go for it."

I listened with rapt attention as she told me as much of her tale of her early years as she was prepared to. By the end, there was no doubt in my mind she was sincere.

"Ok, warts and all, Keren. I'll tell you why I will never coerce, force or demand that any of my charges do anything against their will. When I was barely eighteen, my employer decided he liked me and gave me a job way above my pay grade. I was his personal assistant but it soon became apparent that I was to be very personal to him. I was no stranger to doing to men what he asked me - sorry, he instructed me to do on pain of losing my job - but he was a disgusting, overweight ball of sleaze. Charles Brabinger was the vermin's name and I really do say, in all sincerity, I hope he rests in eternal torment if he has arrived down below where he deserves to be. When I refused his advances, he threatened me with losing my job. When I told him to take a flying fuck, he grabbed me by my cute little pigtails and told me he would relish seeing me 'wearing his load' as he so eloquently put it. As you may now be aware Keren, under most circumstances that would not be an issue for me, but a twenty-two stone, sweaty, balding pervert - even I have standards."

Every sexual encounter I'd had since I was sixteen had been entirely consensual and I couldn't imagine being forced into a situation I wasn't comfortable with. I swallowed hard. "Shit, Vanessa - what happened?"

"Vanessa happened, Keren. Remember I mentioned a big crystal paperweight? When he pulled me down, I completely panicked and thought about biting him, but that would mean making contact with the horrid thing. Then I remembered his prize paperweight -- some sort of award or other. I scrabbled around on his desktop, trying to find the damned thing and just as he was about to force me onto him, I grabbed it."

She shivered at the memory and pulled on her cigarette. "It was bad enough when I hit him in the bollocks with it, but the worst sound was when the next blow smashed his nose. Honestly, Keren - I hope you never live through that experience. I occasionally dream of a fat sleazeball wheezing like an extra from the Living Dead as I kick him in the balls multiple times with a very nasty pair of studded ankle boots."

I held my fist out to her. "Way to go, lady."

Her face was a picture. "I'm not all that familiar with the younger generation, Keren. Do I do that back to you or is that an idea for later?"

Danica and I had tried fisting a few times and the idea certainly appealed. "Let's say both, shall we?" She bumped me. "So, what happened next?"

She shrugged. "I hadn't a fucking clue what to do. I had a probable assault charge on my hands and a fat slob looking like a slaughtered pig in a heap before me. I did what any sensible girl of my age would do - I flew to Nice, hitchhiked to Monte Carlo and paid the driver in the manner that the foul Charles Brabinger would have relished, then settled into a life of sun, sex and sand that even Cornwall couldn't compete with."

She sucked the life out of her cigarette and tossed her glass back in one hit. "Rest assured if you sign up with me, there will be no need for paperweights and kinky boots."

I drained my own glass. "Shame, I quite like kinky boots."

"Leather and latex evening wear?"

"Out of my price range, Madame. Like to try them though."

"Stick around, kid. You will and you'll look just great."

"Well Vanessa, you've convinced me so far." I took a sip of champagne, barely able to believe my luck. "Ok, sounds like fun. Where do I start?"

Her hand went to her chin, as if in contemplation. "We seem to be getting along well. You call it."

I thought for a moment. "Ok, since we're going to have sex, I think I'll have a cigarette first."

Five

Two hours later, I walked back through the grounds in a daze hoping I wouldn't come across any guests or staff members. I probably stank of sex despite cleaning up in a bathroom that defied description. Danica was waiting for me, tucked up in bed, her tousled head sticking out from under a single sheet.

A hand went to her mouth to cover a sweet little giggle as I leaned on the doorpost. "Now you know why I'm so sleepy all the time. Vanessa is a naughty lady!"

Vanessa had already told me Danica was a little further down the road on her journey than me. "You little tinker, Danni -- you knew all about it, didn't you?"

She pulled the sheet over her face and I could see her nodding behind it. She uncovered one eye. "The second time I was with her, I told her about you. She's friends with Claudine, the General Manager. That's how I got you the interview. Mad at me?"

I flopped onto the bed beside her and tugged down the sheet. I tweaked her nose. "Mad at you? God, you dizzy little babe, I love you more than ever!"

She hugged me. "Love you too!" Then she recoiled. "Ew, smoky. Lovely Greenie not so lovely tonight!" Her face gave away the lie as she grinned down at me. "She asked me to smoke for her but I wouldn't. See -- she means it when she says nothing is forced. She's never smoked when I'm with her since and I've never said no to anything else."

"Glad she's a woman of her word. Sorry babe - something about her and that holder just resonated with me. I wanted to make an impression. I'll never do it around you either."

She kissed the top of my head. "Should hope not. I was dying to tell you, but she swore me to secrecy. She's amazing isn't she?"

The tingle throughout my ravaged body testified to that. "She is indeed. So you believe her, Danni?"

Her whole body rocked as she nodded her assent. "Sure do. I'm not going to spoil the fun by telling you what will happen to you over the next few weeks, but yes - she has convinced me." She stroked my face. "I've already signed up. I sold my soul to her last week, Greenie - but I told her I want to wait for you to decide so we can go into it together."

I felt as though I was dreaming. "Thanks babe. Shit, Danni - what are we letting ourselves in for?"

"I don't quite know what I've signed up for fully yet, but we'll soon find out. Whatever, I think it's going to be a roller-coaster!" She paused. "Did she... afterwards, did she..."

"Pay me? Yes but I don't know how much. My phone battery died on the way back. I just had enough juice for her to make the transfer."

Vanessa had insisted on paying me. It was a gesture of her goodwill and honest intentions and she would recompense me each time we were together. I felt a little uncomfortable, but if it was going to be a way of life for me, then it was something I was going to have to get used to. A rich woman had just paid me for sex. Others had paid me to deliver food and champagne to them. They were both things I did in my everyday life. Where was the difference?