What the Nanny Saw Ch. 10

Chapter 10: A Midnight Swim

Somehow the whale had found him. It had snuck up in the early evening and caught him napping on his deck and swallowed him whole. Though, this time, the whale was more a familiar friend than a terrifying monster. He fought to swim to freedom, fighting with a deck chair as he made his way toward the hollow sound of the ocean outside. He struck his hand against the soft flesh inside its mouth, willing it to open, to release him. A phone, lodged under its tongue, began to ring.

This time it was Lydia. She had crumbled first and called him. Any reward was likely to be brief and unpleasant. Romano untangled himself from the blanket, sat up in his deck chair and answered the phone while scanning the beach in the low moonlight for any signs of a whale.

"You didn't call," was the first thing Lydia said.

"Phones work both ways," answered Romano - a rhetorical victory, but one unlikely to be savored.

"Giaccomo. Can we not, please?" Lydia sounded tired.

"What is it, what's the problem?"

"Don't you ever ask yourself what we're doing?" asked Lydia. "Always back and forth, always waiting till the next time. Half living in between. Maybe it's time to move forward or move on?"

"Lydia," pleaded Romano, "we can't have this conversation over the phone. I'll come. I'll come to Liguria. Can you please wait for me to come to Liguria?"

Lydia sighed. "When Giacco'? You have a case. I know you'll never walk away in the middle of a case."

"I would for you," lied Romano. "But, I'm close," he lied again, "give me three days, four, and I'll be at your door."

"I wish I could believe that was true," said Lydia with a sigh. "I'll be waiting. I'll be hoping. But I won't be expecting..."

After his call with Lydia, his stomach filled with dread, Romano knew he wasn't getting back to sleep. So he stripped off his clothes, left them on his deck, and walked across the sand to the water - silver tipped little waves danced for him. He walked in calf-deep and then dived. Long, sure strokes, bred of a lifetime by the sea, quickly had him out past the breakers. He swam for 30 minutes, always keeping an eye out for the whale.

As he walked, dripping and naked up the beach toward his house, he could just make out the outline of a person sitting on his deck.

Romano was conscious he was naked, but as there was little to do about it, he strode right up to the deck - the salt water continuing to stream off his head and drip down his face.

It was Ingrid. She had a towel. And a wicked smile.

Romano sat on the deck, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, talking with Ingrid, drinking some of the whiskey she had brought along.

She had eyed him up and down as he approached, holding the towel, but deliberately not offering it. He had started to flush, standing naked in front of a fully dressed, and frankly beautiful, Ingrid. And then he had started to grow hard. A reaction he had difficulty understanding. But Ingrid seemed to get it.

She had beckoned him up on the deck, still sitting elegantly, legs crossed high up on her thigh. She had sat in her deck chair and he had gone to stand in front of her. She had licked her lips. Then licked her own index finger. And with that wet, single finger, she had begun to play with the head of his cock.

His house was a lonely bungalow at the edge of the sea. At day time, he might see fishermen in the far distance, out on the water. But at night there was no one to see. None-the-less, he felt exposed and oddly shy standing in front of a fully clothed Ingrid. In his head, he knew it was private. But his heart had pounded out a primal rhythm, that caused his cock to jump and start as she rubbed at it with her finger.

He had started to reach for the towel, but she had jerked it away and swatted at his cock with an open-handed slap. "No towel," was all she said.

She had taken his cock in her whole hand then, and stroked it up and down, slowly, humming sightly to herself. She leaned forward and licked it one or twice and asked, "That's what you like, isn't it? I bet you wish that nanny would lick you like this..."

She wasn't wrong.

It had taken Romano by surprise - that Ingrid would mention the nanny, and that she could be so dead-on accurate. But Ingrid hadn't stopped to savor that little victory - she was too busy savoring his cock. Then she had it in her mouth and continued to hum. He started to imagine what it would be like to stand there, naked, and cum all over her little cardigan, her dark tights. He could see the white lines marking her skirt in his mind.

But it wasn't to be. She had taken him from her mouth with an echoing pop, still grasping the base tightly. Then she had laid the towel on the floor of the deck. "I bet you'd love to lick my pussy."

Again, she wasn't wrong.

"Down," was all she said, then. Romano wasn't used to this side of Ingrid, but he sure as fuck got down. She spread her legs, pulled the black lace to the side. "Lick."... That was it, just 'Lick'.

So he did. He licked. With the salt water still spilling over his face, wetting her thighs and getting in his mouth. The taste of the sea and the taste of Ingrid mingled. He worked his tongue to the best of his ability. His cock still painfully hard, bouncing near the floor of the deck.

Ingrid was a bit more talkative now. In fact, she didn't shut up. She narrated his oral attentions. She described in filthy detail what she thought he would like to do to the nanny. She moaned and thrashed and sighed as he worked his tongue around her hot, hard little clit. She barked instructions.

"Would you work so hard for that little slut of a nanny?" she had asked. "I bet you would like to show up at the big house right now, wearing nothing but sea water, and see if she'd let you in.

"Wouldn't get me very far," Romano had laughed, "Just a very concerned housekeeper, I guess. She moved out to a bungalow on Via Garibaldi."

"Garibaldi then," she had replied. "I bet you'd love to show up at her door and beg to eat her out. To lick and kiss and worship her, right in the doorway where everyone could see."

Yes, she still wasn't wrong.

Ingrid wasn't cruel. Not very. Once he'd made her cum, he had gotten his turn. She had had him stand up again, and had licked and stroked at his cock. She had pulled at his balls and licked just under the tip of the head of his cock. She had used her nails to softly scratch the shaft. She whispered to him how he was gonna cum for her. How he was gonna spray all over her dress. How he was a good boy for her and was gonna give her what she wanted.

A final time, she wasn't wrong.

He had come copious amounts. All over her dress, her cardigan, her skirt, her tights. And she didn't stop stroking till he was long done. Till he had to beg her to let go. Then she had finally given him a towel.

They sat on the deck. Looked at the waves in the low moonlight. And drank warm whiskey.

"Giacco'," said Ingrid, "you might want to talk to the nanny again. I heard something today. It seems she's been working as an escort to make ends meet, and I got the sense there was some blackmail too."

"What do you mean, blackmail?" asked Romano.

"My acquaintance didn't say, but I kind of gathered there were pictures and threats of exposure. So maybe worth a conversation?" said Ingrid. "Because there is also a rumor that one victim hung herself..."