The Girl at the Spa Ch. 03

"Easy tiger," she said, "I don't have a great desire for children trust me," she sipped more of her tea, "I just preferred it when you were the one getting up and going to the bathroom after we've made love."

"Still have plenty of condoms," I said, somewhat relieved.

"Scared you though didn't I." she said reaching down and grabbing my cock that started to harden the moment she made contact.

Yes, we made love again. This time I used the remaining condom from my wallet so my lovely Ali could go straight to sleep after her orgasm. She did, and cuddled up and into me as she always did after lovemaking.

She drifted off to sleep and I lay there for a time and thought about what my initial reaction to her statement had been. I felt a warm feeling for a second time that evening about the thought of having a child with my gorgeous girlfriend and step-sister.

We woke next morning and happy that Alice could head straight for a post-coital shower she climbed on top of my morning erection before I was fully awake. I had my favourite view of my beautiful girl as she sat astride me, her shaved groin level with mine, her narrow waist flaring up to the most perfect bust crowned with rose red nipples that I just knew she would force into my mouth at some stage of that mornings proceedings.

Fuck but I was so much in love with her and I just wanted more.

She bounced on me, throwing back her head and making her dark hair fly then hang around her face so sexily and she pouted a silly grin at me.

"Are you coming home for Christmas?" she said as she pivoted on her knees to get my organ pressing against her G-spot.

"Hell yeah," I said, "no way I'm missing all this."

"I meant because it would be nice that you could be with Dad!"

For years previously I had rarely managed a Christmas with my Dad. I had spent many with my Mum of course and her string of husbands, both maternal and paternal Grandparents, but hardly ever with Dad and Meghan and never at The Spa.

They always had numerous invites to go to country houses and to visit clients in foreign climes; once they had even gone to India when Grandma had been taken ill. That year I was actually booked to go to The Spa but it was really short notice and whereas Dad and Meghan (and Alice I suppose) all had up to date vaccinations and visas I didn't, so much as I really wanted to go with them I couldn't. Grandma recovered of course.

The following year when Dad was working out somewhere nice to take me to make up for the previous year's disappointment, Mum had 'already booked something spectacular seeing as it was her turn'.

By checking through her credit card statement and some of the booking paperwork, I found that Mum had actually booked our week in Austria three days after Dad asked her for my passport details for 'Christmas in New York' as some kind of revenge.

For almost every Christmas, Mum found a reason why I couldn't go to The Spa; her latest divorce, death of her mother, on her own for the first time, then the death of her father, and the distance just grew between Dad and I, and my attendance at her table for Christmas was pretty much a given, seeing as Dad had someone to share Christmas with after all.

"Of course," I said, "Mum has Dave the Leech and the ugly sisters to cook for, this year she won't need me."

"Excellent," she bent forward and kissed me, "And of course, you get me as well."

"You're all I want for Christmas Ali," I said.

"Awwwww Richie!" She fell forward on top of me, squishing her wonderful boobs against my chest, and pulling me so I would roll over on top. I went for it, pumping as hard as I could and trying to remember in my excitement the beautiful woman I was making love to and tried to move my cock across her G-spot that she had taken so much time to teach me about.

"Richie," she gasped, "this isn't a time to be clever and attentive Darling, just fuck me, you know I'll enjoy... oooooooooh shit yeah, just like that!" I did as I was told and just went for it, and she raised her thighs to hold me, pulling my face to hers so we could kiss. "Yeah Richie, that's it, fuck me Richie, fuck me darling, ooh Christ yeah!" I felt her tremble beneath me as she reached her orgasm and try as I might I was still too green not to let her passion affect mine and I came as well.

Shit but it was good, and we lay there both gasping and getting our breath back after such passionate exertion.

"That'll do it Richie," she said, "some more of that will do very nicely."

"I'll be there for Christmas Alice, I promise."

"Just make sure you are, you know Dad will celebrate big once he knows you're coming." She tried to extricate herself from me, but I wouldn't let her go. "Please Richie, I'm going to leak!"

"And?"

"There speaks a man that has never had to change come-stained sheets!" After some very passionate French kissing I eventually let her get up and she waddled to the bathroom, tutting at me as I watched her fighting to keep what I'd taken such an effort to put in there, stay in there, until she reached the ensuite.

"Tea would be nice!" she shouted over the noise of the shower as she washed off last nights and this morning's excesses. I made her tea and brought it into the bathroom, if nothing else to take every opportunity to look at the wonderfully body I dreamed about, even when I was awake.

She saw me, and put on the most erotic display of cleaning herself, and while the pouting lips and boobs stuck out in my direction at another time might have seemed a bit silly, right then I just wanted to get in next to her a screw her again. Her leaning back against the tiles and masturbating her clit to orgasm was too much, so I did. The smallness of the shower didn't really help us so after a few thrusts into her sopping quim she stood, pushed me back where she had been and dropped to her knees and blew me, taking me almost all the way there a couple of times before grabbing my hips and lip-fucking me until I came in her mouth for the very first time.

We had a great breakfast delivered to our room then a day out and about in Cambridge until it was time to get her back to her train.

At the beginning of December Mum rang and asked about the arrangements for the big day and said that this year 'we' were celebrating in France with The Leech, Leah (who was now tiring of her dissertation and instead working on her PhD Thesis), and Fifi who still had the same hair style that Ali had done for her and told her she looked so good with.

Fiona had bought all of the Game of Thrones box sets and had read all of the books, complaining at length about the lack of book 6 and 7.

"Say you'll come Darling, you wont want to be on your own in London," said Mum, "Fiona asked if you were coming, she really likes you."

"No she doesn't Mum, she really likes Ali. Did she mention her at all?"

"Yes, now you come to mention it; why don't you ask Alice to come as well?"

"Ali's parents have invited me down to Cornwall, seems rude not to go."

"Oh, well you go and stay with them and not your own mother."

"Yeah, at the age of 23 the last thing I should be doing is going somewhere that I want to go rather than the place you want me to go mother, isn't it."

"You don't know these people from Adam!" she snapped.

"Yeah and the way you are talking I never shall, seeing as every significant holiday I now have to spend with you and him in France, with a language I can't speak and a step-family that don't actually like me..."

"But Ali.."

"Yeah, they like Ali, not me! Like I said at the beginning of this discussion."

"Oh I can't talk to you," she snapped, "sometimes you just turn into your father."

I laughed if only inwardly and to myself. I couldn't actually bring myself to tell Mum exactly who Ali's Step-Dad and Mum was, I would save that for later and maximum effect.

Happy with my plans for Christmas and even happier that my placement had finished on the Friday before Christmas Day and since I didn't have any Christmas work placements at any hospitals I was free until the second week in January. I packed as much of my life into my trusty rucksack and got to Cambridge station with seconds to spare on Saturday Morning.

After the longest and most expensive train ride ever, I dragged my tired, slightly grumpy self from the train and stepped out onto that platform of St Ives Railway station.

Outside was a black Land Rover Discovery with blacked out windows and leaning against the passenger door was...

Some strange bloke I didn't recognise.

Shit.

Through the Christmas Underground and all the Great Western 'would all passengers for... change at...' and the standing for toilets and hoping your seat would be there on your return, waiting for the crap buffet trolley that never had the right change as well as never having the right food, I really wanted to see my gorgeous girlfriend again, especially after the wonderful time we'd had just a couple of weeks before in Cambridge.

I walked across the car park and waved to the stranger waiting at the car, he waved back and reached for the door handle.

"Good evenin' Mr McNair," he said in his best West Country.

"Hi," I said, with all of the energy I could muster.

He pulled the door open, and there sat in the driver seat in a form fitting black mini-dress with her usual wonderful cleavage, a pearl choker, pearl earrings was my lovely Ali, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to stop herself laughing.

"Got you there Richie!" she said.

"Cheers Alice!" said the unknown man as he took his Great Western fluorescent jacket from the passenger seat and walked away with a grin.

I climbed in the car and I don't think we stopped kissing for ten or fifteen minutes.

"Richie," she purred as I kissed the furrow from her neck to her ear, "we've got to go honey, only it's your Dad and Mum's Christmas party, and you'll never believe the kind of people that are there!"

"OK," I said and clipped on my seat belt.

I asked her who the man on the car park had been and she said he was a contact at the station that they worked with when new people were arriving, and he was now a friend and she had asked him to help her out with the prank on her boyfriend.

I thanked her for that, and said that revenge was sweet. She leaned across and kissed my cheek, still keeping her eyes on the road.

"Oh come on Richie, after that wonderful weekend in Cambridge you can forgive me anything surely?"

"We'll see." I said. After all I did have something planned for that night, and being at the party would only make it more special.

We chatted away the miles as I told her of my horror journey, the agreeable and disagreeable staff and fellow passengers and my almost starvation as the wrong buffet trolley, the one that had no food or drink on it, had been put on at Plymouth.

"Oh, my poor Richie," she said as the high stone cliffs of The Spa appeared and I saw the two big security guards on the gate, who pushed the waiting Paparazzi's to one side as we approached. Cameras were pushed against all of the windows except for the ones that Ali and I were at.

"Some fucking 'B' lister tipped them off," said Ali, "happens every now and again. Dad will go through the list of attendee's, look for the ones that came here in cars without security and ban half of them. That way he'll find out which one of them it was."

"And I never knew alternative medicine was so complicated." I said.

"You know it," grinned Ali, slowing for the guard to open one of the normally electric gates by hand while another three guards stopped anyone from slipping through before or after the car. She parked it by a long canvas tunnel. "When you get out, stand with your back to the car for a few seconds and get all bodyguard like, just give them fuckers something to think about; increases the mystery and keeps the prices up!"

I did, standing tall and stretching out my neck, my hands clasped together in front of me, looking across to Ali who was just getting my bag from the back seat but doing a fine job in convincing anyone in telephoto lens distance that a camera shy superstar was running.

Ali moved the Disco back across the car park into its usual spot between the second one and the Jaguar and I walked across to retrieve my coat and my bag. The dress, make-up and jewellery she was wearing were fantastic and I knew that at this party there was a good chance that my clothes were going to let me down.

She led me through the front doors then into the family wing and her room, where I put down my bag and coat. Hanging on the wardrobe was a dinner jacket, along with a white shirt and bow tie.

"You have five minutes to shower lover," she said.

"You not going to join me?"

"Richie!" she grinned, "you're insatiable! Tell you what, I'll go get you a cup of tea and some sandwiches to take the edge off of the other hunger that you're feeling."

I had the fastest shower in history and had all but dried off when she came back with a tray. I had quickly shaved off my five o'clock shadow in the shower and had remember to bring aftershave. She walked in on me spraying myself with that and some other 'smelly chemicals', as she called them.

I quickly dressed, stopping while she did up my bow tie, a real one, and the first time I'd worn such a thing since my Tripos graduation party. It was nice while she did it though.

She kissed me, stepped towards her large dressing table and did a quick touch up on her make-up smacking my hand as I grabbed her arse and boobs as she tried to repair the lipstick I'd smudged, and finally happy with the gorgeous result she took me by the arm.

Stepping through curtains, we came into the dining room completely set up for the Christmas party. There were lots of staff members, some of which I knew from both The Spa and the London Clinic, and as my eyes became accustomed to the dark I started to recognise the glitterati, including Mateo Rodriguez with a glamour model on his arm.

There were at least three of Hollywood's best and some recognisable second best on their arms, and some British TV stars. Next, three England Rugby players, Two Olympic Gold medallist rowers, three Olympic runners, a Triathlon star, a cabinet minister with their MP partner, a smattering of footballers and there was the prime-time presenter Meghan had told me about, all false smiles and bonhomie with everyone and just a bit over the top, stopping occasionally to snipe at the waiting staff just as Meghan had told me they would. Tonight all the waiting staff were supplied by the outside caterer as Dad's were here and in their glad rags for one of his big nights of the year.

One of Mateo's team younger mates that I recognised from press coverage appeared beside us and we both smiled at him. He ignored me and tried desperately to lift Ali's arm away from me, the unrecognisable young man in a dinner jacket.

She shook her head and whispered something to him and waved him away with smile. He was obviously a little bit pissed and, earning my entire seven years of student debt every four days and paying some of it to my Father, felt he had a better claim to the gorgeous chiropractor than I did.

"Not tonight mate," I said with a light-hearted lift to my voice and a raised hand.

With pursed, slightly pissed lips, he took hold of my arm and tried to move it from hers again. I resisted, so he pursed his lips even harder in some South American fume and tried a bad tempered shove at my chest. I stood my ground ready for a punch up if necessary until Ali pushed him away, looking dangerous daggers at him.

"Fuck off mate," I said. I guessed as a British Premier League Player he would have heard that particular phrase from the terraces and understand what it meant.

He looked at me askance, ignoring Ali's preference for her partner completely and put his head to one side with a scowl at me, in a 'who the fuck are you - do you REALLY not know who I am?' look.

I'm guessing he thought I was just another bloody staff member that he paid for; another masseur, therapist, administrator, chef or server, all of whom were dancing in their dinner jackets and long dresses drinking Dad's excellent wines. He looked around for support from another superstar but there weren't any and he shot his hands out from his cuffs and struck a 'try your luck then' pose.

I wasn't going to fight this South American arsehole in front of my Dad's best clients and looked around for some support, although I thought my furious girlfriend was about to attack him and her body language spoke volumes.

Seeing this he simply put his hands out to his sides, waved a hand up and down his body then with a sideways look pointed at me, shook his head and winked to her. He held out his arm for her to take patting his chest pocket, I guessed to indicate where he kept his wallet and how important that was, then took a long look at his Rolex watch. Ali just moved closer to me, which just made him get right into my face with a hissed Spanish challenge, his breath reeking of booze.

"Richie!" shouted my Dad coming across the room at speed, gently pushing aside one of the rowers.

After a tip off from the cabinet minister he strode across giving me a huge hug, and then another one for Ali. He turned to the footballer, "Tomas!" said Dad putting his arm around my aggressor and losing his smile, "Éste es mi hijo Richard, él está en la universidad que aprende ser médico!" (This is my son Richard, he's at University learning to be a Doctor!)

"You... son?" said Tomas. I thought I saw a bit of a nervous gulp.

"Si," said Dad with the tiniest almost unnoticeable curl to his top lip, "Mateo!" shouted Dad, not breaking eye contact with Tomas, and Rodriguez came across, abandoning his fashion model. Dad put an hand on his arm and whispered to him that I now know was something like, 'keep that bastard away from Alice and my son, or you can both go get treated by someone else'.

He spoke to the chief wine waiter and said that Tomas was on soft drinks from now on, doctor's orders, and at the first sign of trouble the guards were to have him out of the door and in a taxi to the station. Mateo dragged the much younger Tomas away to a corner remonstrating with him at length in hissed Columbian Spanish about what you couldn't do at The Spa. Tomas seemed rather put out that his splendid wealth didn't quite entitle him to exactly what he wanted, however much he wanted it and he argued. Mateo smacked the back of his head and pointed an angry finger at him, snarling that he had better not fuck this up for both of them.

The gorgeous and glamorous Paula received similar less than gentlemanly treatment half an hour later from the immature superstar, and the chief wine waiter saw and in moments the now very pissed Tomas was whipped through the curtains we came through and escorted from the premises at speed by two big lads and taken to St Ives railway station in the back of an unmarked white van, still in his dinner jacket for the last train to Paddington where at some stage in the early hours of the next day he could get a connecting train to the large northern town whose football club paid his outrageous wages.

Dad took Alice and I across the dance floor to where Meghan was stood with the founder of the feast, none other than Grandma herself, in the most colourful sari.

"Gra'ma," said Alice, "this is Richie, Ralph's son."

She beamed a big smile at me, and took my hand.

"Ah Richie," she said, "I've heard so much about you from my baby girl Alice."

"All good I hope," I said.

"The very best," she said with a big grin, "Here, have some proper Champagne Dear," she said, "not that shit you father is feeding the god-liked and omnipotent."

I took the glass from her and smiled. She was so much like her granddaughter Meghan and Alice her great-granddaughter that I warmed to her instantly.