The Fool

Carrie slid into the car park and stepped out of the car. She knew she looked good in this dress, and walked determinedly toward the gym. Opening the door, she could feel several sets of eyes turn in her direction immediately. Jerome was in the weights area spotting for a client and appeared to be ignoring her.

She smiled knowingly and leant over the counter, slapping at the counter bell and hearing its high-pitched ding ring through the gym. Jerome lifted his head and gazed steadily at her as he helped his client return the weights to the cradle. He spoke briefly with the man and then stood, walking slowly towards her. Without a word, he walked past her to get behind the counter and took a set of keys.

"Dojo," he said abruptly to one of his regular patrons and friend, who nodded in return. Carrie recognised him and smiled sweetly at the man. Her irregular bouts with Jerome were legendary amongst the regulars, though no one would ever mention it to either of them directly. Jordan had heard about them from the rumour mill when he came in for his workouts. It was rare that anyone saw their bouts, but the noise from the first-floor dojo was enough to raise eyebrows, and tonight she was hardly dressed for a lesson in mixed martial arts.

"Lose the shoes and do me the favour of warming up first this time," Jerome grumbled as they walked into the Dojo. Carrie kicked off her shoes, watching him as he closed the door with a loud thud.

"Bad day?" she asked, shimmying out of her dress and walking toward him. Her unfettered breasts bounced with each step as she approached him. "Or are you mad at me?"

"Nothing that a good workout won't cure," he said, dismissing her questions without answering them. His eyes never left her breasts, which swayed enticingly while she walked.

"Good thing I dropped by then," she purred, picking up a dobok and shrugging it on over the G-string she wore and tied it loosely with the soft belt. She did a few stretches and moved to the centre of the mat.

"That's your warm up?" Jerome murmured disapprovingly. "I think you need this workout more than me, crazy woman."

"You think you can teach me something new?" She scoffed at the idea and watched as he eyed her from his opposing stance. She knew she was in great shape. Her strong, curvy legs were long and attractive. She had an almost perfectly flat waist that showed a hint of the muscle under it. The little bit of curve her stomach had didn't distract from her beauty, but added femineity. While she often complained about her weight, she knew Jerome was admiring her almost perfectly conditioned form.

She worked hard to maintain this body with shaping and sculpting exercises in the gym. She also knew the effect she had on most men when she wasn't trying to tone down her look and blend into the background, like she did at work. She enjoyed the challenge Jerome offered. He wasn't afraid to fight hard to gain the upper hand with her. He knew it was what she needed; anything less and she would walk away and find someone who could challenge her both physically and mentally.

It had been too long since a man had touched her the right way when she first walked into this gym after arriving in England. In fact, she wasn't sure if she had been touched the right way at all, before finding Jerome. Workout sessions with him had become a form of foreplay for her, and, after rolling around and sweating with him, they would fuck for at least another hour. Often, he would spend another hour massaging her so that, when she left, she would still be filled desire and remembering the pleasure he could bring her.

Jerome saw her mind wander and made his move. It was swift, and, as he caught her around the legs and pummelled her into the training mat, he squeezed her thighs, enjoying the feel of toned muscle stiffening as she braced and hit the ground. She rolled, and he rolled over her. He continued his assault, not only to fight this woman but also explore her body. His hands lingered over her ass and thighs as she slipped into a side hold, her generous breasts bouncing under the loose dobak.

Each time they grappled free and posted a stance Jerome kept his waist high and tight and his hands dangerously close to her breasts. He smirked as she kept her guard low, as if being more concerned about the flimsy layers of fabric between his cock and the apex between her legs. They'd come in here to fight for who would dominate their fucking.

Jerome took advantage of every weakness or lapse of concentration she displayed. In a bold move, as they had stood panting with exertion and glaring at each other across the mat again, Carrie moved in and attempted to sweep him off his feet. Jerome reversed it on her, and she ended up flat on her belly on the mat with Jerome practically mounting her ass. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders low on her neckline and the other across her chest. His feet hooked around her legs as he fought to prevent her from rolling them both.

Jerome sunk his hips hard into hers. He savoured the feeling of the firm breasts against his arm and her sweetly curved ass pressing into his pelvis. His cock hardened from the semi-erect shaft he had been trying to maintain to a full-blown tire iron in the blink of an eye.

"Alright, I give, you win round one," Carrie knew she was done; control the head and the hips, she had always been told by her instructors. He'd done that quite effectively, she had to give him credit, he wasn't playing nice tonight. She could feel his hard cock pressing against her ass, and it only exacerbated the arousal she had arrived with after the adrenaline of the heist.

"You can get out of this. Why are you giving up so soon?" He teased. "It's not like you to give up so easily," he pressed his cock harder into the crevasse of her ass and murmured in her ear. "It might be nice to make love to a nice soft woman instead of fucking like animals in heat for a change."

She knew Jerome had feelings for her. He'd told hr as much the last time she was here, and she had shot down any thoughts he had of a real relationship building between them. He'd agreed, in the end, to take her any way he could get her, but she knew he wanted more, more than she could give him, more than she was capable of ever giving anyone.

He outweighed her, and, from this position, there was little chance she could escape. Stubborn only began to describe her fighting style, however, so, after hearing the challenge in his words, she began to fight again. Fight hard. Love was not something she was equipped to deal with. She trusted one person in her life, and that was Jordan, he was family to her, and she cared deeply for him, but love was a frightening concept that she wasn't sure she was capable of feeling.

She struggled to snake her hips to the side. The movement ground her body into the floor and at the same time up to Jerome's cock. His head was close enough to her that he knew she could hear his gentle moan of pleasure. They hadn't been at it long enough to satisfy either of them, but the movement of her hips beneath him, though, was doing nothing to ease the steel rod his cock had become. He wanted this form of stress relief as much as she seemed to need it, and he considered ending the bout and taking her here as they were.

Carrie's thoughts had turned down the same dark path. He could, in this position, take full advantage of her, and she would be almost powerless to resist. The feel of his hard cock against her ass as he held her in that position so tightly made the thought strangely arousing, and caused butterflies of hot anticipation to appear in her stomach. She turned her head, straining to look back at him, trying to gain an advantage by making eye contact. She sighed softly. The sound was almost a heated purr as her eyes found his and saw the heat there.

Jerome suddenly let her go and got up. He stalked across the room. Carrie watched him for a minute before she got up and stalked to where he leant against the wall. His cock was barely at half-mast now, and she raised an eyebrow. What was wrong with him?

Jerome looked at her as she approached. She was one hot bitch. She wanted him. Not in the same way he wanted her, but she did want him. The fight went out of him at the thought, and he considered his next move as she pressed up against him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and carried her back down to the mat, pinning her with her arms above her head and kissed her hard.

Taken by surprise, Carrie lay startled as he kissed her. She kissed him back, feeling him relax, and made her move, rolling them so he was on his back and she sat up straddling his hips and pressing her pussy against his cock, the layers of thin cotton between them practically invisible. He watched as she undid the soft belt and shrugged off the jacket, leaving her breasts fully on display to him.

Grabbing her arms, he rolled suddenly, the weight of his body pinning her to the mat again. She began to fight again, but, wrapping his legs back and around hers and holding her hands over her head in a tight grip, he looked down into her eyes and smirked. "Is this what you want?" he thrust his hips down into her.

He outweighed her in muscle, if not technique, and, as he lay on top of her, he lowered his head to her ear and whispered, "You're at my mercy." Her rejection of any form of deeper relationship with him warred with his need to have this sexy woman, and every move he made seemed to make it worse. Anger boiled up inside him again.

Very few people could best Carrie, she had been training in this sport for most of her life, and she loved the sessions she had with Jerome, but she could hear that his voice sounded angry rather than passionate. Feeling dread, she pulled out the final piece of ammunition she had to get the upper hand here. She leant up and began to kiss his ear and neck. Her tongue teased the salty skin, and she felt his muscles relax, and a soft humming moan escape his mouth.

She pushed his head further to the side and kept kissing his neck, lower and lower. Then, suddenly, she pushed and twisted her hips, throwing Jerome to the side and onto his back. She laughed as she took the strong position from him. She kept herself low and dug herself in to prevent getting rolled again. He pulled her close. She could feel his cock had resumed its former stiffness and was now pressing against her moist warmth.

"That was the cheapest move ever..." he said. "How would you like it if I pulled a shit move like that?"

"Go ahead," She challenged him. "I dare you!"

Jerome grabbed her hair and brought his mouth to hers. He was not playing with her anymore tonight. He kissed her deeply and started biting her neck, then he became aggressive quickly. His teeth grazed her skin, almost painfully hard, and he knew he was losing control. Carrie did nothing to stop it. Jerome pulled her tighter against his body, running his hand down her sides and up her ribs to cup her breasts. He rubbed the hardening nipples, then began pulling and twisting them just to hear her whimpers of pain and pleasure.

All she could think about was getting laid. She hadn't been properly fucked in a long time. She could feel Jerome's lust and need for her. She didn't think about it too long or try to justify it. This was happening now, and she had no plan to delay it with another bout trying to get the upper hand on him. Despite being the one on top, she knew she was now his to fuck as he wished.

He began kissing and sucking hard on her nipples, then biting them. Electricity shot through her body, and she shuddered. He could feel the shudder and tremble that went along with the soft moans of pleasure that escaped her mouth, and he groaned. He rolled them again until he hovered over her once again.

He started moving further down her body with his kisses. He pushed her hips up and hooked his fingers into the band of her G-string, pulling it down her long shapely legs. Eager to make her regret her decision not to date him, like a normal couple, he kissed back up her shapely legs to the apex between them and buried his face in her pussy. He had style and technique, and, as his talented tongue explored her, she lay back and sighed with pleasure.

His hands cupped and kneaded her firm ass. He then pushed her and moved her hips up so that her clit was right in his line of fire, and he tormented her cruelly by slowing down and keeping her on edge rather than letting her fall over the brink into orgasm. He continued to play with her ass, occasionally moving one hand up to play with her wet pussy. After some time, she began racing toward her orgasm like an unstoppable train, she lifted her hips higher and widened her thighs slightly more, begging silently for more.

He slipped his fingers into her deeply, curling them slightly to reach her G-spot. She used her hips, varying the pressure, and he pressed a hand against her belly to slow down her movements. She began grinding down into his tongue and fingers, her legs shaking as the force of her orgasm finally hit her. His face was wet with her cum, and he leant over and tried to kiss her, but she pushed him back. She never liked to be touched right after coming.

Carrie reversed their position, she pushed him to his back and crawled over his body until she came up above him, her eyes sparkled as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his loose gym shorts and moved slowly down his body. Jerome was so hard he thought he could explode the moment he felt her first tentative kiss on his cock. He gritted his teeth and grimaced as he let her suck him for a few minutes only, before pulling her back up to his chest and rolling her onto her back. He needed to fuck her until she couldn't walk properly.

He lowered his face to kiss her then, despite herself, she welcomed it, and the odd feeling she always got when tasting herself on another's lips. They kissed slowly and passionately as Jerome manoeuvred between her legs, his cock leading the way eagerly into the hot wet tunnel of her flesh. She reached down and grabbed his cock, caressing it, and parted her legs as his hips lowered further.

"Such a fucking hot bitch!" he growled somewhere between anger and desire for her, and brutally thrust forward, making her cry out. He groaned loudly as he stayed immobile, his cock wedged inside the woman he held tightly below him.

"Fuck!" Carrie's eyes flew wide, both at the words and the thrust. He was still mad at her. "Fuck!" she swore again as he slammed into her again.

Jerome began ramming his cock in and out of her wet pussy. Her hips began moving, despite her shock. She moved like the athletic goddess she was, grinding into him and forcing him to feel her tight pussy walls grip his hard cock. He grabbed her legs and brought them high to his shoulders. She was so tight and felt so damn good.

She was surprised at how quickly she began building to another orgasm. She often had multiple climaxes, but it would normally take some time. Their hips were meeting in a way that stimulated her clit, and she could feel her body reacting to his. She used her legs to position him to enter her the way she wanted as he continued his merciless fucking. The position worked, and she began to cum on him. She pulled his hair and scratched his back, but he just kept fucking. He was used to pain, and the pleasure was so overwhelming that he never slowed down until he came too.

"Fuck!" Jerome roared loudly and collapsed over her, breathing heavily.

Having recovered from the shock of his words, Carrie said quietly, "Still angry at me, huh?"

"So? You seemed to get what you needed," he answered belligerently. He slipped his cock out of her and rolled to his back.

"Oh yeah, any chance of round two?" She rolled over pinning him to the mat.

"Greedy bitch," he growled, but felt his cock jump at the thought. "What makes you think I'd do you again?"

"Oh, I don't know," she began to rock her hips over his cock, "Proximity, availability, the promise of even better sex." His eyes narrowed, but his hand reached to grab her breast and twist the nipple, making her whimper softly.

"I guess I should take what I can get," he murmured, twisting the nipple tighter, enjoying her discomfort.

*****

Sinclair said nothing of his suspicions as the theft of the pistol was discovered later that night. Still, he wondered how she did it if she was, indeed, the April Fool. He'd asked his associates many questions about their suspicions from the previous thefts. All the evidence pointed to entry and exit through the balcony, though the doors hadn't been forced. Miles swore they had been locked, which meant the thief would have had to enter from within the house before exiting from the balcony. No one had had access to the second floor, and security had been tight, which left household and catering staff.

"Carrington Wordsworth Ward," he said to himself. He asked around about the beautiful woman in the midnight blue dress and surprisingly found his godmother; Eugenie, was a wealth of information. She was young and not too long out of University, which she attended in Australia. Her mother was British, so she had dual citizenship. That explained the hint of an accent he caught, not that she had said much during their time together.

The question burning in his mind though was, what would a beautiful young woman from Australia have against the Hats to make her target them each year, and, more importantly, how would she have even known of their existence? His inner dialogue constantly fought with the nagging feeling that she was guilty. She was young, too young to have managed the early thefts. He, too, was a teenager when he began in this business, he argued. She'd lived most of her life in Australia, far from any of his associates. He knew that meant little, if her parents travelled as his had done. In the end, she couldn't have stolen the pistol and hidden it beneath that dress. He had no argument for that observation and the sway of her hips as she walked downstairs last night replayed in his mind.

He'd been home briefly for a couple of hours sleep before heading to the museum to find the woman who clouded his thoughts. For him, art was best appreciated in quiet solitude, but he enjoyed watching people at these exhibitions and listening to random people's views on various pieces that he either loved or loathed. He took his place in line, prepared for the wait by watching the museum visitors and staff, hoping to catch sight of Carrie as she went about her work day. He was disappointed to see Jun Chen hurrying toward him as he waited in line.

"Mr. Mansvelt, you do not need to wait in line, you have VIP access to this museum and the exhibitions," Jun said officiously as he stepped close enough to be heard.

"I don't mind waiting my turn," Sinclair said easily. "I was hoping to see your assistant here today; perhaps she could be spared to show me through the exhibit?"

"Carrington?" Jun asked. "No, I will show you through myself." He declared, having pride in his great knowledge of every artefact in the exhibit.

"No offence, Chen, but you're not nearly as pretty to look at as your assistant," Sinclair smirked. He watched as Chen seemed confused by this statement. The man was so obsessed with his work that he didn't even see the beautiful creature who worked for him as she truly was, and Sinclair shook his head wonderingly.

"She is busy at present, perhaps we will find her at the end of our tour," Jun said obligingly.

Sinclair patiently let himself be led around and lectured to on a collection he considered he knew almost as much about as his guide. In some cases, he knew more about the particular pieces. Toward the end of the tour, Sinclair saw her. She wore a navy-blue suit with long pants, a white polyester blouse and flat shoes. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and she wore heavy dark rimmed glasses. It was as if she had purposefully dimmed the light of the beauty he knew shone beneath the nerd-like exterior she put on at work. In this guise, she would be totally forgettable, blending in with all the other young staff at the museum.