The Devil's Mistresses Ch. 02

"Mr. Chao should be ready for you now," Mala said. "I'll finish you now, if you don't mind." And she did finish him. Roger wanted to pleasure to go and on, he wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon in her arms. But she was too much, her body overwhelmed his ability to resist. She quickened the pace of her bouncing hips, increased the tempo of the undulations inside her, and he couldn't stop himself. "Mala, ahh, God!" he cried, thrusting into her as much as he could with her slight weight bearing down on him, and then his penis blossomed inside her and his throbbing organ pulsed and spurted. She cooed with delight as he filled her with his semen. "You Americans, there's always so much of you when you come," she sighed into his ear.

"I understand now what you meant, about Mr. Chao not letting you go." He caressed her face. "If I had you, I'd never give you up, not for anything."

She rose, uncoupling their bodies. "I will tell Mr. Chao you are ready. There is a basin of water in the bathroom, feel free to freshen up." She made a slight bow of her head, and then she was gone. He was disappointed at how brusquely she ended their encounter. He thought there had been a larger connection between them than just the sex.

He sponged his crotch and armpits with the soapy water, then dressed. As he was buttoning his shirt the door suddenly opened. A man walked in, Chinese, not Thai. His black hair was parted on the side and rather long, covering the tops of his ears. He had crow's feet around his eyes, the kind you get from smiling too much. But his eyes themselves belied the air of good humor. They were cool, calculating, devious. Roger watched those eyes look him up and down and he felt like the man had just read his mind.

"Roger Travers," the man said, a statement, not a greeting. "Graduated magna cum laude from Carnegie Mellon University in 1978 with a degree in computer science. Received your Ph.D in electrical engineering from MIT, 1982. Worked for IBM for three years, then moved to California to do research at Bell Labs. While you were there you found enough spare time to earn an MBA from Stanford." He closed the door behind him and walked to the couch. "Remarkable," he said admiringly.

He continued, "You left Bell Labs and started a company called Dynamic Computing Solutions. You sold the company in 1986. You then started Integrated Systems. Sold that company in 1992. And then you started yet another company called Travers Advanced Computing, and built it into one of the biggest networking companies in the world." He paused and smiled. "One of the biggest, but not the biggest. Hence, your decision to sell the company to your largest competitor."

He walked up to Roger and stopped a few feet away. He grinned. "I'm not trying to show off," he said. "When such an eminent American entrepreneur enters my sphere of influence, I make it my business to learn something about him."

"You could have learned all that by reading the article the Wall Street Journal did on me," Roger said

The man nodded. "True. But I don't think the Wall Street Journal reported that the original offer for your company was $3.6 billion, and you negotiated your way up to $5.65 billion. You stand to make two-hundred and sixty-five million dollars on the deal. You must be an extremely tough bargainer."

Roger's mouth went dry. Those were the exact figures, and they had not been released to the press. Or to either company's board of directors. They wouldn't find out until after the papers had been signed.

The man saw how flustered Roger was and he laughed. "Now, my friend, I'm showing off." He held out his hand. "My name is Raymond Chao. And I am delighted to meet you."

Roger shook the offered hand, and Chao led him out on the veranda to a small table shaded by a broad umbrella. They sat and a young man in a spotless white suit arrived with a large pitcher of iced tea and two tall glasses. Chao poured, and said, "I believe you have something for me?"

Roger handed over the envelope, and Chao examined the red wax seal. "Indeed..." he murmured. He tore the seal and removed the single sheet inside. Roger could see that there was only a few lines of text, and Chao scanned them quickly. "Interesting..." he said, and then he read aloud. "My very dear friend, I send to you a most exceptional gentleman, one I think worthy of our trust and consideration. He wishes to arrange a meeting between himself and those who are my most cherished and beloved. I must ask your help to facilitate the rendezvous. The usual procedures, of course. I am, as always, your most steadfast and constant friend..." Chao folded up the note without revealing the name of the author.

Chao took a long sip of tea. "You heard the rumors, and unlike most you chose to believe them." He looked at Roger, measuring him, like a man who'd just been raised in a poker game and was deciding whether to call or fold. "Five years ago you went on an guided expedition to Mount Everest, yes?"

Roger nodded, slowly. Chao continued, "Five hundred feet from the summit, you turned back. Your two guides and three other clients pressed on. A storm hit late in the afternoon. One of the guides and two of the clients died. Those who survived lost fingers, toes. You turned back. Why?"

Roger had told the story a number of times to the media, and he was sure Chao knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from Roger's mouth. "Before we made for the summit we set a turn-around time of 2PM. At 2PM we weren't even close. I was exhausted. We all were. We had a plan. I chose to stick to it. The others didn't."

"That must have taken remarkable discipline, to come so close, and then deny yourself the prize."

"Yes, it was. It was agony going back." Roger sipped his tea. "But without discipline, courage is just recklessness."

Chao nodded. "My friend, I ask now that you show some discipline. Forget about this. Go back to America, sell your company, have other adventures. Trust me, this is not something you want to do."

"And why is that? Have you met these women before?"

"No. Because if I had, I would not be sitting here chatting so pleasantly with you. I have seen men who have coupled with these women. They are no longer...intact." Chao leaned forward to emphasize the point. "There is something terribly wrong with them. They are never at peace. Their bodies crave the intensity of the pleasure they once enjoyed, a pleasure so overwhelming it taxed them to the point of death."

The warning only served to whet Roger's appetite. "Women are women. Sex is sex. Great sex is great sex. I'm not a man who gets pussy-whipped."

Chao's laugh was a harsh bark with little mirth in it. "My friend, these creatures are more devil than woman. What they do to a man is more torture than sex. If you wish, I will help you. But, again, I advise against it. You will come to regret it."

Roger sipped his tea. "You know about the failed expedition to Everest. So you know that the next year I went right back, and that time I reached the summit. Along the way I passed the bodies of my former comrades. They're still there, right where they collapsed at the end, frozen in time. And I went right past them. It didn't faze me." He set his glass on the table and matched Chao's stare. "I appreciate your concern. I do. But I'm intrigued. My curiosity must be satisfied."

Chao sighed. "Very well, my friend." Roger didn't see Chao make any kind of signal, but the white-jacketed man suddenly appeared. "Send Prangitan in."

Rudi came in, sweating and looking ill. "Rudi, my friend," Chao said without much warmth. "You will open a special account for Mr. Travers and transfer five-hundred thousand US dollars into it." Rudi asked no questions, made no objections. He merely nodded, and Chao said, "You may leave." Rudi swiveled and was gone.

Chao spoke slowly. "I am personally guaranteeing that you will not be swindled. You may take the money in this account and do with it what you will. But if you set up the encounter, and follow it to its completion, I expect to have my money returned." The dark eyes narrowed. "I should make it clear, I am not a man you should casually insult." The words did not fully describe the menace projected by this otherwise amiable man.

Roger squared himself in his chair. "I would never insult your generosity. I thank you for such kind consideration."

The cloudy mood lifted instantly. Chao said, "I would like to think that this could be the beginning of a long and beneficial relationship. I have had some, ah, difficulties with the government of your country, and the insight of such a prominent citizen could be invaluable."

"I probably hate the US government more than you," Roger said. "Degenerate thieving bastards."

Chao laughed. "Perhaps you do, but I doubt it." Chao checked his watch, and sighed. "I am sorry, but I have a pressing appointment. I must leave immediately."

"Wait, if Rudi left, I have no way to get back to Bangkok."

Chao stood and Roger followed. "One of my helicopters will take you back to the city." He extended a hand. "Good luck, Mr. Travers."

He and Roger shook. "Thank you, Mr. Chao." Chao turned to leave, when Roger remembered something. "Mala. She, ah, works for you?"

"Yes."

"How much would it take to hire her away?"

Chao laughed out loud. "As I'm sure you learned, she is a pearl without price. I would never give her away for something as trivial as money." Then, again, his dark eyes turned serious. "She is extraordinary, wasn't she?"

"Incredible."

"I should warn you, that as pleasurable as her lovemaking may be, compared to the women you intend to hire, Mala is nothing. Nothing. You are in a little in love with Mala, I can see. You would give me millions to take her back to your country as your concubine. What will you be willing to do after your time with those terrible women?" Chao didn't wait for an answer. "One more thing for you to consider."

Chao passed through a door and the white-suited young man materialized. "Follow me, sir," He led Roger up several flights of stairs to the roof, which doubled as a helipad. A helicopter was already spooling up, the big rotor blade spinning faster and faster. The young man held open the rear door and Roger climbed in. The pilot said, "Buckle up, sir," in a broad Australian accent.

Roger secured himself and the helo leapt from the roof like a rocket, the pilot opened the throttle wide and leveled off at a thousand feet. What took Rudi hours to drive took the helicopter fifteen minutes. The pilot set his craft down on the pad of a hospital a block away from Roger's hotel. There was a man waiting to escort Roger to the elevator, which took him directly to the main lobby. A motorized rickshaw sat waiting, and a minute later Roger was strolling confidently into the hotel, the manila envelope in his hand.

He opened the door and found the boy lounging on the bed watching the "The Matrix". Keanu Reeves was showering a high-rise building with a minigun, and the boy rolled over and saw Roger in the doorway. "Damn, you back before big scene in subway," he said.

"You can stay and watch it," Roger said.

The boy leapt off the bed. "I have on DVD. You have money?"

Roger handed him the envelope and the boy tucked it under his arm like a football. "You aren't going to count it?"

The boy laughed. "Rudi know, he short money, he end up short a hand. Or a dick." Then the boy's smile vanished, and for the first time Roger saw him look serious, even somber. "You must be strange man, pay this much money just for women. For this much, can get thousand hundred girls."

"What do you know about the women I intend to hire?"

"Nothing. I make sure I not know things I not supposed to know. Make life much easier."

"As you get older, I think you'll learn that the more you know, the more power you have."

The boy shrugged, his carefree air returning in a flash. "I think, better you know a little bit important stuff than whole bunch of bullshit." He tugged his Yankee cap over his black hair. "You big boy, you take care of yourself." He paused halfway through the door. "I leave you half bottle champagne. Drink, celebrate. But, remember old saying."

"What old saying?"

"Be careful what you wish for. You may get it." The boy passed through the door without a backward glance.

*****

Now, ten months later, Roger settled back in his chair and remembered how sweet that champagne tasted. And tonight, after he confirmed the deal at the Duquesne Hotel, he would enjoy another bottle of Dom Perignon 1990. That boy had been right. It was an excellent vintage. He would toast himself, to the coming climax of another great adventure.

Since his return from Thailand he'd received several anonymous missives. One letter instructed him to wire an additional fifty thousand dollars to a Cayman bank account. A midday phone call commanded him to order a drink at the bar and then immediately leave, a setup Roger later thought must have been contrived to obtain a good set of his fingerprints. Every few weeks envelopes arrived with brief messages inside-"Be patient, Mr. Travers", or, "The arrangements are almost finalized".

He had the feeling he was being followed, though he never really spotted a tail. He came home and had the sense that someone had been there while he was gone, just a feeling, maybe the lingering scent of the intruders who'd left a few minutes before.

Just a few weeks before he'd attended a fundraiser for the symphony and noticed that a gorgeous blonde woman in a beaded silver gown kept staring at him. She was in her mid-thirties, older than he liked, but she was so beautiful that her age of course meant nothing. Her dress was cut very short and he let his eyes wonder over the shapely legs and ass, and he let her catch him admiring her body. He wanted to talk to her but he couldn't break away from the conversation he was having with the Mayor. But when he saw the blonde walking to the bar he excused himself and shouldered his way next to her.

The woman didn't look at him, she just lifted her vodka tonic to her dark red lips and then said, "You're Roger Travers, yes?"

He was pleased that his fame had spread so far. "I am."

The woman put her elbow on the bar and turned to face him, her lovely, confident face looking up. "I've heard that you are enormously endowed. Is it true?"

The question surprised Roger, but it was a most pleasant surprise. "Yes, it's true."

"Enormous."

"Yes. Might I ask where you heard this?"

She sipped her drink. "You know a young woman named Jennifer Cullimore?"

Roger stiffened. Jennifer was one of his on-again, off-again mistresses, a 22-year-old girl he'd met while getting an extended lap dance at the city's premier gentleman's club. Jennifer was a bit too excitable for Roger, she called him constantly and loved flashing and fucking in public. But still, a delicious piece of ass. "Yes, I know Jennifer quite well."

"And I know Jennifer quite well. Well, I know her mother quite well. And I guess Jennifer looks to me as a big sister, someone she can confide in. Someone she can talk about her love life with. Talk about the sexy older man with the big dick who fucks her until she screams."

Roger was smiling now, knowing that this woman was as good as in his bed. "I think that's very decent of you, to mentor a lovely young person like Jennifer."

The woman smiled sardonically. "There's nothing decent about what I'm thinking right now."

Roger moved closer to her, and she put her hand on his wrist. "And what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I'm not wearing panties. I'm thinking that I'm very, very wet. I'm thinking that the bathroom at the far end of the lobby isn't being used. And I'm thinking that I want you to meet me in that bathroom and fuck me with that huge cock like you fuck that ditzy slut Jennifer."

Roger laughed. The woman smiled and turned to walk away, but Roger seized her wrist. "What's your name?" he asked.

She turned and caressed the front of his fly with her free hand. "Alexis."

"I'll hurry, Alexis," he said, releasing her.

She shook her head. "We have plenty of time."

He let her walk down the hall until she turned the corner, and then he followed, walking slowly, a man in control. But when he turned the corner and was away from the crowd her trotted toward the far bathroom door. It was quiet in this part of the concert hall and his footfalls echoed on the polished marble floor. He pushed the door open-and there stood Alexis, her silver dress hiked up over her hips, bent over the sleek black sink. Her legs were spread and her pussy was pink and plump. "Hurry," she whispered. "I want your cock inside me."

Roger locked the bathroom door. He wanted her to wait a bit, he wanted to show her that, as sexy as she might be, he was not the sort of man to be driven crazy just by pussy. He ran his finger between her legs and caressed her slit. She was wet, very wet, and he put his finger in his mouth. "Mmm..." he said, and the taste truly thrilled Roger. She tasted so fucking GOOD. He knelt down and buried his nose in her sex, thrusting his tongue inside her, drinking her musky juices. "No," she hissed. "Your cock! I want your cock!"

Roger fumbled with his belt, unzipped, and yanked down his slack. He pulled down his boxers and Alexis smiled when she saw his erection. "Yessss," she said. "That is a huge cock."

"And here it comes," Roger said, moving close in behind her. He rubbed his helmet up and down her furrow, moistening the tip, and then he slowly pushed himself inside her. Alexis was wet, very wet, and though she was tight he was able to penetrate her until his bone was buried inside her. He could see her in the bathroom mirror and saw his face contort with animal lust. "Feel that, baby?" he snarled.

And then Alexis's pussy walls gripped him, gripped him hard and twisted, pulled, stroked, and Roger gasped. He looked at her in the mirror and her expression was totally calm and businesslike. "Do you feel that, Mr. Travers?" she said.

"Yes," he groaned. She was just like Mala, but the blonde woman's pussy was even more muscular and devastating. Her squeezing, stroking vagina fixed Roger in place. She was making him feel so good he didn't even feel the need to thrust. "Big cocks are easy," she said coolly. "Lots of meat to grab and GRIND." She punctuated that last word with a diabolical corkscrewing motion around his helmet.

He groaned. "How do you do that?"

She ignored the question. She made sure she held his eyes and she said, "Your encounter will take place within the month. You will have the rest of the money ready."

The undulations of her magical pussy increased. Roger couldn't help himself, he put his hands on her hips and started thrusting. Ten seconds later he was on the brink. "You're from Mr. Chao?"

She smirked and shook her head. As she brought Roger to orgasm she said, "I answer only to Monsieur Joubert."

"Jouberrrrr.....arrrrgh!" Roger groaned as his penis pulsed inside her silken purse. When his spasms ceased she disengaged herself and walked toward the door, ignoring the semen that ran down her legs. Before she left she turned and smiled at him. "You poor man. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

Roger grabbed a paper towel and wiped his cock. "Don't flatter yourself. You might be a great fuck, but don't go thinking that you or these other women can get the best of me just because of some trick you can do with your pussies."

The woman laughed, a long, hearty, good-natured laugh. She walked back to Roger, took his face in her hands, and tenderly kissed him on the lips. "Monsieur Joubert will find that comment most amusing." She walked back to the door.

"Tell Joubert to hurry this up."

She shook her head. "Monsieur Joubert will contact you when he is ready." She pulled the door open, and as she walked through the door she laughed again. "You poor, stupid man."