The Gun Seller in Retreat

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Charlie gets all twisted up in an heiress's dirty games.
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Author's note: This story has a little bit of most things, but I thought I should mention that there are some water sports later on since that might be an unwelcome surprise for some people. It's not the focus of the story at all, and I hope that even if it's not your thing you'll still enjoy the piece as a whole. Ratings and any feedback at all would be much appreciated. Thanks to WWL for giving it the once over, and thanks for reading.

- - -

Lazy, autumnal sun-beams forced him off the couch and onto the floor. Autumn and yet still it was too hot. A strange year. He lay flat on the white floorboards of the pool house and listened to his back complain about the correction to his posture.

Charlie had missed this climate while out East. He had missed this soporific autumn and wished he could have returned in better circumstances. As it was he was under self-imposed house arrest. No one would have the slightest inkling to look for him here, and Thomas Garner Jr. - heir to this great estate - owed him a sizable debt. He wouldn't be pushing it to camp out in this little shack for another few months at least. Perhaps then attention would have died down to the extent he could risk raising his head, scooping out a few accounts and finding somewhere in South America to live out his days.

He was being overly dramatic but he didn't care. It helped to pass the time.

His hands on his belly, he waited for the evening, waited to prepare dinner because he didn't feel like reading the next book in the endless library that he was forced to devote his time to. More than that though he waited for the week to end so that T. Howard Garner Sr. and his sylph-like bitch of a daughter would head back to New York and he could hang out with Tommy again, could go chase tail in town again.

His hands on his belly, he longed to use the gym up at the main house. He felt like he was going to seed down here in pool house number three or wherever the fuck he was. Far enough away from the main house that they would never know he was on the estate, that was for sure - he was persona non grata amongst the rest of the Garner clan. Through no fault of his own, he thought sourly. How could he be held responsible for the catastrophically unpredictable winds of global finance? Shit, they still had their billions - just a few less than before.

Lying on the floor between the couch and the low, glass coffee table, he listened to birds outside. He had no idea what kind of birds they were - not his field. He remembered the Uzbek countryside though, how the verdant parts gave way to a place where all the trees were grey and no birds sang. He shivered.

He hadn't heard any footsteps, but the door clicked open. There had been no knock - Tommy always knocked. Every single part of him stopped working, he simply froze up in fear. He couldn't move, couldn't bring himself to rise up onto his elbows and peer over the couch, to face what he was sure must be his pursuers like a man. He looked down the length of his body - fuck. His feet were sticking out, in clear view of the door. He prayed, as every man before him must have done when faced with their moment of reckoning, for the floor to open up and swallow him.

Soft feet padded about, quiet but making no effort to be all that cautious. Floorboards creaked. Something moved on a bookshelf. Then there was silence, pure but for the smokers rattle of his lungs.

"Who the fuck..." She appeared next to his head, brandishing a massive hardcover like a weapon, ready to bring it down on his skull. Must have been the first thing that came to hand when she had spotted him. "Charlie."

"Cadey." His heart kicked back in at a terrific rate, making up for the beats it had been sitting out. Tommy's sister. Not some international kidnapper ready to bring a black sack down over his head at all.

"What the fuck are you doing down here? Does Daddy know you're here?"

"How are you Cadey?" He looked up at her looming over him in a fitted, checked summer shirt and billowy three quarter length pants. Her red hair tied back and a familiar suspicious frown firmly in place on her face, she was barefoot - always barefoot in summer - that was why he hadn't heard her coming.

"No, no," she reasoned, "He mustn't know you're here. Or he would have damn well stormed down here with a shotgun and put you out of your misery."

"Cadey..."

"What the fuck are you doing here Charlie?"

"I'm in trouble." He sat up, stood up then stretched. She took a step back despite her all-powerful self-confidence - he was twice her size after all, and loomed over her now. "More trouble than I'm in with your father, and Tommy was a good man. He's helping me lay low for a while."

"Did you kill someone or something?" There was no temerity in her voice, in fact her lips were pulled back in distaste - that she might be sharing air with a criminal of all things. Like her father wasn't.

"No," he sighed, already weary of the judgement and superiority. "It's all financial, but some... former associates of mine seem to lay the blame for the... vagaries of international politics at my feet."

"You fucked someone over just like you did Daddy." She smirked like she had him pinned down now, like he was fitting perfectly into the 'Charlie' category in her head. He dropped onto the sofa, heaving another sigh, while she dropped her tome on the dining table behind her. Both of them lit cigarettes and the air became comfortingly acrid.

"I didn't fuck anyone over, Cadey..."

"It's Cadence, no-one calls me Cadey anymore." One arm crossed her body just below her small breasts, the other elbow rested on that. Her forearm was perfectly vertical and the thin material of the shirt slipped down a little. Her wrist was cocked at a disinterested 45 degrees, the cigarette hanging between two fingers.

"I didn't fuck anyone over, Cadence." He was tired of this. It wasn't even like he had been protesting his innocence to people over and over again - he never met anyone who knew a single thing about him anymore, thank the Lord. But he'd been over the whole mess so many times in his head that it felt like he should be done with it - this whole thing should be over by now. Fuck, why wasn't it over? He glanced at his own thick fingers and found he had already almost crushed his cigarette half to death. "What happened..."

"I really," she interrupted in a tone that cut into him, "truly, don't give a flying fuck what happened." A pale plume of smoke rose from her pale lips to caress the low ceiling. He sat looking up at her for several minutes, waiting, apparently in vain, for her to continue. She lowered her chin and pinned him with a gaze akin to that of a butcher on a dairy farm.

"So then, what are you going to do?" Charlie leaned forwards, adjusted his shirt. Cadey had always been one of those terrifyingly precocious girls who could bend reality simply by sheer dint of will. Dealing with her like this made him even more tired. He could fight his corner, but he knew it wouldn't help.

"Well," she licked her lower lip, a thinking motion, "I should tell Daddy about you, shouldn't I?"

"You're not the kind of girl who needs to pander to her father anymore I think Cadey."

"Stop calling me Cadey, and I do actually have to take Daddy into consideration considering it's still his blessed money I'm living off. Or rather my assets are still tied to the family business and I'm still under his wrinkled, old thumb. A few extra good girl points wouldn't go amiss." Cadey took a long, long drag on her cigarette before continuing. "Especially after that horrible Paris thing."

Charlie couldn't help the low, rocky chuckle that shook him at that. He'd seen the newspapers - MILLIONAIRE HEIRESS IN SORDID MENAGE-A-TROIS WITH BALLET DANCER. If 'Daddy' did cut her off, Cadey would probably be able to land a reality TV show without much difficulty.

"Fuck off, Charlie," he noted the tiniest hint of a smile twitching at the corner of her lips for the first time. "It was completely irresistible. He was delicious and she was... just divine. How could I say no?"

Cadey's eyes were elsewhere and Charlie took a moment to let his own gaze drift over the porcelain beauty of his friend's sister - her flawless, china complexion; her slender, lovely neck and those fashion illustration cheekbones. She was gorgeous and of course the thought of her perfect lithe limbs tangling with those of a prima ballerina crossed his mind. His pulse quickened.

"But Daddy gets peeved whenever my fun makes the newspapers."

"Isn't life cruel? Your father's pissed off at you because you're a slut, and scary ex-soviet spies want to kill me because one lousy business deal went askew." He shouldn't have pushed it, but there was something about Cadey that always made him want to try to put her in her place.

"Fuck you, give me one good reason I shouldn't go tell Daddy about you right this instant."

"I don't think you need a reason Cadey, I think you've got your own. Otherwise you would be halfway back to the house by now." He tried to restore some dimension to his cigarette end, failed, and lit another.

Cadey was silent, he looked at his fingers and listened to her drag, then exhale. He felt as if he was watching the shadows crawl across the floor, as if he could see the sun dipping into the trees. Those birds were still there.

"You know what was lovely? She was shaved and waxed to perfection." Her crossed arm descended, her fingers splayed as she ran her hand over her belly and cupped her mound brazenly. "Down here, I mean."

"Uh-huh?" Charlie raised his eyes to her slender fingers, then raised them again to her face and fought to keep them there. A smirk was in full effect on her perfect features.

"For the ballet I guess, she has to be? Anyway, it seemed to drive her boyfriend crazy." Her hand came up to her hip now, a finger slipping into the waistband of her loose linen pants. "But you know me, I have to have what I want, when I want it. I watched him, wonderful Gallic stallion that he was, go down on her until she was a quivering, twitching little bon-bon, then I went and diverted his attention when he tried to mount her."

"Huh." No response was needed, but he had to say something. There was an undeniable increase in mass and bulk in his pants. Cadey couldn't see anything he was sure, because of his awkward leaning position on the low sofa.

"She got quite put out when she realised that her garcon was reaming my tight little cunt rather than hers."

How much of this was true and how much was bullshit Charlie couldn't say. Did he like where this was going? He wasn't too sure about that either. God, of course he'd like to fuck Cadence Garner - and he was sure she'd be the fuck of his life. But he doubted it would be simple or casual when it came to Cadey; it would be getting himself entangled even further with the volatile, very public Garner family, and for him any publicity was bad publicity.

"Of course I apologised most profusely in my... shocking French. And I'm pretty sure she accepted later on - somewhere around the time I was tickling at her tiny, pink asshole with my tongue while her 'homme' was plunging into her French honey-pot, inches from my face - I'm sorry, am I boring you Charlie?"

"I'm..." He had moved only to let his underwear slip forward and release some of the painful pressure that had built on his growing erection. "No, not at all."

"All that time..." she mused. She stepped towards him, her small frame towering over him now, to one side of the coffee table while his shins pressed awkwardly against it and he hunched forwards over the thick, hard shaft that had developed at the centre of him. "Out there in those dirty Eastern European hell-holes, doing deals with very bad men..." her teasing smile got cruel, "Exactly how many skanky Russian whores did you fuck while you were out there? Or did you lose count? Did you smuggle some back in your Vuitton luggage?"

He glanced up sharply. "I was never involved in any of that." It was a truth, and some truths he had needed practice to come out with when things went south for him, but this one was easy. He was a dirty, grubby man in a lot of ways but he had never knowingly dealt with anyone who treated flesh as a commodity.

Then again, he'd long since realised that what he didn't know about the people he did business with could fill the seven seas.

"Oh, touchy. Went blue-balled the whole time then did you?"

"Not your business, Cadey, I don't think."

"Didn't I tell you to stop calling me Cadey?" Her voice was very quiet now, he could hear the last few birds of the evening chorus over it. Quiet and not to be ignored. "And what about... fuck, what was her name?"

"I've been divorced for five years now. You know that." He tapped ash into the large glass ashtray at the centre of the table and Cadence leaned down to do the same. The neck of her shirt hung open as she stooped, but he kept his eyes down and tried to ignore the pale, peach blur of her bare skin in the corner of his eye.

"No, but really though," she straightened up, and her voice pressed, a bladed instrument twisting in his side, "what was her name?"

"Don't be a bitch, Cadey."

"I'm perfectly, deadly serious Charlie!" she laughed. "I don't remember her name!"

"Gloria."

"Gloria!" she let the name slide slowly off her tongue. The tongue that had probably explored every delicate erogenous zone on that lucky ballerina's body. "Gloria, that's right," there was a beat, "She was frigid, right?"

"Oh, fuck you!" he exclaimed, and almost stood sharply to confront her. Almost, because he still had that weight, that bulge that she'd see as soon as he moved. And then she'd have him, for whatever twisted little purpose she had in mind. "No, she was not."

"Well, anyway," she pouted, pretending to have been stung by his tone, "My point being: it's not healthy for a man of your age to go for too long without... oh you know..." She thrust her hips forward crudely and laughed again, carefree and full-throated.

"Cadey- Cadence, I do fine, thank you." He smiled at her acidly as she started to move, to walk slowly around the table in front of him. She smoked, and looked up and into the distance as if musing on the nature of existence.

So what if he was, finally, starting to pick up a little weight in his thirties? So what if he was worrying about getting paunchy? Almost all of his bulk was still muscle, and he could still read girls' impressions of him without lying to himself. After all there'd been little to do out those strange, empty, luxury hotels in Europe's hinterlands other than drink in the bars and work out in the gyms.

And fuck the strange, empty, luxury hookers that seemed to live in the hotels. They hadn't been cheap like Cadence had insinuated; they'd had the scent of money all over them.

"Well, I'm glad you think so, but perhaps we should compare recent conquests."

"I don't really want to hear about which pea-brained actor was the latest notch on your bedpost, Cadey."

"Oh no," she kept walking, not looking at him, picking up one of his dirty coffee cups now to tap her cigarette off into, "what I mean is that I bet I've fucked a lot more, and a lot cuter girls than you have recently, Charlie dear." He ran his tongue across his teeth, behind his lips, irritated. "I mean, add the boys in and it would be not contest at all."

"What do you want, Cadey? Just what do you want?"

"I just want to catch up with my darling brother's bestest friend!" Her voice rang hollowly, mocking him. She had made a complete semi-circle in front of him, dragging his gaze from one side of the table to the other as he followed her slim, graceful form. She kept moving too, walking past the end of the couch now, starting to leave his field of vision. "Now, Paris... I hardly think that it's fair to start there, but let's."

He could stand up, ignore her, leave. He could take the wrath of her fool-of-a-father but he knew that his little hidey-hole wouldn't be so safe and cosy once word got out. But he stayed seated, hunched over, and he lit another cigarette.

"So there we were, she was lying on her back, her little slit - and I mean, it just looked so very delicate and perfect, and bare as the day she was born as I said - her little slit open just the tiniest bit, luscious, fuschia pink inside and shining, gleaming with... ballerina juice." She stopped behind him. "And her eyes were closed, she had just come, of course, and she was mumbling in French for her chevalier - or cheval, I forget which - to come truly sate her. I believe at that point they thought they were putting on a show for me, and I do so love a show. But then, I do so hate not being the centre of attention too.

"The whole time he'd been licking her to heaven I'd been lying back on this, this gorgeous, plush chaise-longues, stark naked but for my heels and this scandalous thong, and of course I'd... I'd pulled the thong to one side, so my own... my pussy could get some attention. But it was only my fingers that were giving it any attention, malheureusement." She was right behind him, leaning back against the dining table, he guessed. Watching him? Waiting for some kind of reaction.

"I got my little puss so wet watching them and stroking it!" Charlie swallowed as Cadence's voice got softer, breathier, more playful. "But that was... that wasn't anywhere near enough. So, as he was stroking himself to perfection about to slide on into that... oh-so tight looking hole, I came up behind him, slipped my arms around him and gave him two helping hands.

"Of course, my hands were still all wet and sticky from my naughty puss."

Charlie coughed, and Cadence paused, considerately waiting for him to get his breath. For a moment he thought that she might not continue after the interruption but she didn't keep him waiting for long.

"So I'm stroking him, my nipples all hard and pressing into his back - I think he might have been a rugby player, you know, I remember it was quite a stretch to reach that shaft. Oh, I should say he was big too, but I'm sure you're such a hetero fellow that the detail doesn't interest you at all. Anyway, when he was perfectly, perfectly hard and straining to go, snorting like a horse and desperate to plough that freshly licked furrow in front of him, I took him sharply with one hand and turned him aside.

"I pumped him, I slid his soft skin back and forth along that massive prick - oh, did I mention he wasn't cut? Well, while his petite copine lay back in a daze I pulled him down - by his cock - to his knees, and went down on my hands and knees in front of him, wagging my tail like the dirty little American bitch I am.

"I think you always want a little variation in your diet don't you? So I wasn't really surprised that he couldn't resist. A little tuft of hair, that dirty, slutty thong pulled aside, and I daresay my cunt looked a little wetter and more inviting than hers did. So like I say, no surprise that he grabbed a hold of my poor hips and pulled me back onto him. Took him a moment to find my fucking slit, of course - I don't think he was blessed much in the brains department - but when he did... oh Charlie... you're missing out, not having a pussy to get fucked with like that.

"He split me open and just- just started pounding me. I was wailing away like some slutty banshee in no time of course... I mean, I had to get her attention somehow didn't I? I was spitting and cursing as best I could in French - ohh garcon, your baguette is tres bon... horrible, tacky stuff, I know, but it got the job done, and suddenly she was sitting up watching us making dirty, animal love on the floor and cursing a lot more fluently than I did.

"But he was gone, he didn't fucking care. This was probably all he'd been hoping for since I came up to their little apartment thing, and then she was over and he was driving that massive shaft into me like he wanted to ruin me for other men, which-," she snorted, "good luck with that! And he was, I'm ashamed to say, a little too much for me. He put his hand on the back of my neck," she was leaning, getting closer to him, he could hear it, "he forced my head down onto the floor, kept my hips up where he could fuck them," she was definitely moving towards him now, a wisp of her smoke drifted in front of him, "and the ballerina reached us, and slapped him full in the face at exactly the moment he came inside me."