He leaned, causal-like against the faux marble column near the backdoor of the gallery, pondering a photograph of a dark haired, blue-eyed girl; legs splayed playing a game of jax and ball on a damp city street. Something about the look in her eyes, they still held on to some kind of innocence.
The back door opened, a stray ray of streetlights speckled reflection onto the hardwood floor of the gallery. In walked a girl, wearing a simple cotton dress with a pink sweater knotted over her shoulders, a tint of olive in her skin. She stood quietly by the backdoor till finally making her way to the photograph the man so desperately tried to keep his attention on, but failed to do so when he saw her enter the room.
“Gosh,” she walked around examining the artist’s work, “it doesn’t even look like me.”
The man’s interest peaked. He looked over to her with a gentle gaze. On the verge of speaking, he straightened his tie and turned to face her.
“Trixie!” A tall woman made a quick approach with an outstretched hand and a smile. “Well if it isn’t the girl of the evening. I’d say you have a pretty fantastic modeling career ahead of you my dear.”
“I just can’t believe that’s me.” The girl looked up again in amazement to the photograph.
“Well believe it.” With that the woman grabbed Trixie by the arm and took her speedily to the make shift bar in the corner.
“Who is she?” The man turned to his friend.
“Beatrix Candwell. She’s just moved here from America, a couple of months ago. Nothing’s really known of her. Well, except the obvious; that she’s fucking gorgeous.” He took a sip of his wine. “Why don’t you go and introduce yourself.” The men both looked over to Beatrix. “I mean how could she say no to the infamous James Merryweather, eh?”
“Well normally I’d agree with you, but it seems a little sleazy don’t you think? I mean picking up a girl you’ve seen in a cheeky photo, at a gallery opening where the girl knows you’re only interested because you’ve seen her in the cheeky photo.” James looked up from his nervous wine swirling to meet his friend’s gaze and gauge a response.
“You, my friend, think way too much.” “Susan, I can’t believe all the cool people here!” Trixie felt alive. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure this was all really happening.
“You know, I could swear, I saw James Merryweather admiring you in my pictures. He seems particularly enchanted with the Jax and Ball one.” Susan leaned into Trixie and pointed her wine glass in James’ direction.
“James Merryweather! The James Merryweather, the actor? You have to be kidding.” The girls almost huddled with each other, making glances over to James and his friend. “Of course it could be the fact that you have those lace panties showing in the picture. You know I’ve heard he’s a total pervert.” Trixie looked over again at the boys and met James’ glance for a few fleeting seconds.
“See I told you. He fancies you.” Susan’s attention dropped from Trixie over to a tall blonde boy, easily half her age, “If you’ll excuse me, darling.”
Trixie looked around the room and felt small: models, movie stars, and authors. She didn’t know how on earth she even got in this room. She looked over to see James Merryweather give her a faint smile. A flash of heat covered her body, she bit her lower lip, took a sip of wine, and tried to tell herself that he wasn’t smiling at her, that he was probably gaga for some supermodel, of which there were plenty. Her palms sweated, she gulped her wine, and found James Merryweather standing right in front of her with an outstretched hand.
“Hi! I’m James.”
This is surreal, she thought.
“Um, Hi! I’m Trixie. Well my real name’s Beatrix, but everyone calls me Trixie.”
“Hmmm, Trixie. Trixie.” His eyes darted from side to side, then up, “Trixie, cute as a pixie.”
She giggled and smiled stupidly in awe.
“Oh Gosh! That was unbelievably bad, wasn’t it?” He asked, trying to make her feel at ease.
“Well, kind of, but I liked it.” She fidgeted with her wine glass and moved her toes around in her shoes.
“Do you want another glass of wine?” He asked sweetly. “Um yeah, sounds good.”
He reached for her glass and together they made their way to the make shift bar. Along the way random people, gave him congratulations, or said how much they loved his work. He gave them a quick ‘hello’ or a ‘thank you’ as he made way with her through the crowd.
“These gallery things can be dreadful.” James made motion to the two empty glasses to the bartender, which he only halfway refilled.
“Well, this is my first gallery thing, seems pretty cool so far.” Trixie looked around the room.
“Oh yes, of course, at first they’re all wonderful. That’s how they suck you in.” He made slurping sounds for extra effect. James looked on her with lust filled eyes. “I like your pictures,” he pointed out two; one of Trixie playing hopscotch and another of her looking bored at a school desk, “in fact I’m quite fond them. You’re a very pretty girl, Beatrix.”
“Oh you can call me Trixie, if you’d like.” She took a sip of pinot grigio.
“Oh, no. I like Beatrix better. Sounds too good to be true.” He winked.
“Trixie!” Called Susan who was negotiating a deal on one of the photographs.
“Oh fuck,” James crooned and offered a fake smile, “you better go appease that woman, but don’t forget about me. I’ll be right here.” He touched her hand and pulled on a lock of hair as she walked off.
“How’s it going, then?” James’ friend wine bottle in hand offered a refill.
“Not too bad.” James finished off the last of his wine and accepted the refill gratefully. “How much is that bloke paying for that photo?”
“A thousand pounds. Can you believe that? I don’t think it’s worth that at all, and anyway Susan has enough money.” He laughed.
“I’ll double it. I have to have it, as well as the other two.” James looked on Beatrix. “Tell Susan, won’t you? Same price for all three.” He tapped his glass and saw Beatrix looking back at him. He smiled and rolled his eyes, feeling sympathy for her being stuck in a boring conversation. ‘Come here.’ He mouthed silently, and she excused herself from the conversation. She positioned herself next to him; he leaned in, placed his arm around her waist and whispered, “Just thought you’d like to know, I’m stealing that photograph from that man over there and making it mine. I’m buying the other two as well.” Trixie was at a loss for words.
“James, you sneaky devil!” Susan put on her best smile and kissed James on the cheek. “They’re well worth it, I can assure you. Our Trixie here is a natural, that’s for damn sure. I know you’ll find a good place for them and her.” She winked.
The pair watched Susan walk off to meet up with the blonde boy she’d seen earlier.
“You know,” James breathy voice in her ear sent tingles up her spine, “we should get out of here, “ he took notice of people making their way over to him, “Now.” He reached for her hand and together they wriggled their way through the crowd and to the back door.
The door shut, all music and conversations stopped. The latch closing on the door offered the pair complete silence.
“Oh! Thank God we made it. I was starting to feel I couldn’t breathe in that place.” He stroked her hair, then her cheek. “Oh I’m sorry. Am I being too forward?”
“No.” She nearly whispered in reply. She took his hands in hers and brought him close, looking up into those aquamarine eyes, “I like you.”
“I like you too,” he smoothed her cheek, “Let’s see, where should we go now?” He took her hand and his car alarm beeped it’s welcome. He gentlemanly opened her car door and before closing it shut, he bent down for a kiss.
“Mmmm,” she purred in delight, as she played with his tie.
“I’ve got it!” He slammed her door and made his way round to the driver’s side. The silver of the car reflected fluorescent light; a drizzle was on its way. “ I know just where to take you my saucy little minx.”
She laughed, and could feel white wine running through her; happily intoxicated and full of vixen courage, she reached for his trouser thigh, “I’m sure it will be wonderful, not as wonderful as you, but wonderful still.” She mumbled.
“Did you steal that from one of my films?” He joked, and then kissed her before they pulled out of the parallel spot. “Have you seen most of the touristy things in London?” He shifted gears, “See there,” he pointed to her side of the car window, “that’s Cleopatra’s Needle. Remind you of anything?” She looked on to the phallic symbol, which stood well over 60 feet. “Ever had anything that big?” He licked his lips and raised an eyebrow in a small laugh.
She placed her hand over his on the gearshift and they raced through London streets to the hum of the city. She closed her eyes, felt warm inside, and squeezed his hand. With one hand on his shoulder she balanced herself and reached under her dress to slide off the white lace panties she had put on earlier in the evening. She was embarrassed by her choice, and wished she worn her black lace pair ones, but then again, she couldn’t have imagined any of this happening. She breathed deep, and when her task was completed she threw the panties on his lap.
“Are these for me?” He crooned. She nodded politely and her tongue grazed those too pink lips. “Well I don’t know if they’ll fit, but—” She took his hand and placed it on her thigh, he could feel heat radiating from her and moved higher up, grazing her wet slit, “My, my, you are a naughty girl, aren’t you? What thoughts have been racing through that mind of yours?”
She reached out and placed her hand on his now hard cock, and whispered, “Same things you’ve been thinking, I guess.” She threw her head back in laughter and clapped her hands like a schoolgirl getting a treat.
The lift doors bore them welcome with a slide and a click. “Ladies first.” He patted her bottom and she jumped in happy surprise. Trixie looked up innocently with big blue eyes. James met her gaze and in seconds had Trixie pinned against the lift wall.
Their mouths met in hungry anticipation, she threw her leg around his waist and brought him closer to her. She could feel his eager manhood wanting so badly to be freed, so she switched positions, this time pinning him against the cold wall. She got down on her knees, unlatched his belt and gasped, “Yummmm.” She purred and tongued up and down his shaft, feeling him in the back of her throat.
”Oh, my lovely.” He crooned and moaned softly, as he placed his hands on her raven locks and tugged playfully. She sucked greedily, stopping now and then for a quick look up for reassurance from him. He watched her tiny hands wrap around his cock and saw her mouth taking all of him in and out.
The lift ascended floor after floor, his cock wanting more than just her pretty mouth. Through half closed eyes James saw floor light 35 light up with a blink.
“Oh god,” he made a guttural cry he didn’t want her to stop but knew he had to speak up, “that’s just too fucking wonderful. I don’t want you to stop, but we’re nearly there.” He helped her to her feet; her lipstick having left a telling smudge, he took his index finger and removed all trace of cherry red.
“Beautiful. You ready?”
“How do I look?” She asked striking a pose.
“Fucking gorgeous.” A Cheshire grin came across his lips and the lift door chimed its hello.
“This place is amazing!” Trixie fingered the carpeted navy blue walls and looked up to see tiny dimly lit lights hanging overhead. A velvet chaise lounge similar in color sat invitingly under a backlit sign, “Vertigo 42.”
“Come on,” he urged paternally, “it gets even better, I promise.” James gave a sly wave to the bartender and led Trixie by the hand to a discreet table and chairs.
Trixie was transfixed. The bar had no walls only windows. Windows, which looked out over the whole of London. He moved his chair closer to hers, watched her wonderment and smiled. He knew she had never seen a place like this; he thrilled in impressing her.
“I can’t believe this place!” She squealed in excitement. James spun her chair and stopped it when they were face to face. He smiled.
“What will you have, love?” He opened a menu and reached in his coat pocket for his glasses, “Forgive me, I’m getting old and can’t read a thing without them.” Trixie giggled and tapped her shoes on his. “Lot’s of champagne,” he announced, “you like the stuff, don’t you? I know I do.” The waiter came, along with the manager, and the trio shook hands. “I think we’ll have a bottle of the Veuve Clicquot.”
“Yes, Sir.” The waiter tried to hide a smile.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” James touched the tip of Trixie’s nose as if she were a child and he playfully saying goodnight, “nature calls.” He leaned in and with hot breath said, “Don’t move an inch.” A kiss on her neck, then on her lips and she watched him disappear in the crowd.
Trixie swiveled her chair to the window, smiled, and knowing she was out of view of other patrons did a little dance in her chair; absolutely overjoyed with the nights events. She calmed herself and swiveled her attention back to their table.
The waiter arrived with their bottle. He poured champagne into he two strangest champagne glasses Trixie had ever laid eyes on; easily a foot tall, the glasses had long stems. She could see the champagne travel all the way down near the bottom of the glass. “Exotic.” She thought she said under her breath.
“Well, it is the priciest bottle in the house. We’ve got to give you the special treatment, eh?” The waiter grinned and placed the bottle in an iced bin.
Trixie mad a quick hurried glance round the room and grabbed her menu. Her eyes flittered down carefully scripted words: The grandfather of all bottles, Veuve Clicquot, Porsardin Yellow Label 1295.00 British pounds.
“I just loved your last picture! I saw it twice in the theatre.” Trixie heard an excited fluttery female voice stammer over words.
“Oh, thank you, how nice, so you didn’t feel totally ripped off then?” He asked teasingly.
“Could you just sign this for me?” The girl pleaded.
“Yes, of course.” James answered.
Trixie smiled shyly and thought, ‘my god, that would be me.’ She fingered the stem of her glass and straightened her dress.
“Sorry about that, “ he raised his glass, “now where were we, oh yes! A toast, to my Beatrix. Trixie, Trixie cute as a pixie,” he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “and fucking amazing at sucking cock.” He winked, their glasses clinked and James patted his lap, welcoming her. “The view’s much better from here, honest.”
“James, it’s beautiful!” She sighed and wriggled in his lap.
“Pretty, yes, but a little out of style.” James took a sip off his glass and hummed in satisfaction.
“I like un-trendy places,” Trixie purred words, “more interesting people to talk to,” she tried to find the perfect spot on his lap, “plus you can get away with more.”
James raised an eyebrow and felt her wriggle just the right way on his lap. He coughed and cleared his throat feeling nervous that someone might happen upon them. “What do you mean, get away with?” He played innocent.
“Oh I don’t know,” Trixie finished off her glass of champagne, “like if you moved closer to the window,” James took steps to do so as she continued on, “and we made sure no one had their eyes on us,” The pair looked round the room and checked their reflection in the window pane, Trixie lifted off James and he unbuckled his belt while she kept watch.
“Go on.” He whispered. She giggled and he lifted her dress.
“If I just sat back on you like this.” She could feel the tip of his cock near her opening; he moaned as she leaned back on his lap and onto his cock, he could feel himself entering her wet wonting hole.
“Yes, and then?” He wanted more of her words.
She giggled nervously, “then if you and I pretended that we were really into the music,” Trixie began rocking her hips and riding his cock to the drum and bass sound, “it would be really hard for people to tell what we were up to.” She leaned back; he kissed her neck and sucked gently careful to leave no mark. His shaft moved in and out; they were one with the soundtrack.
Trixie looked up to see James watching their reflection in the window. His hands rested on the sides of her thighs, he moved one hand up her dress seeking out her pebble hard love button with his fingertips; he worked her over.
He watched her gracefully ride him, the zipper of her dress taunting him. She had tan shoulders and when she moved her in and out the zipper jangled temptation.
She was lost. She couldn’t even hear the music anymore; her senses focused on everything James Merryweather. In her mind she saw his smile, heard his laugh, saw those aquamarines blink nervously. Trixie felt a twitch inside her and wondered if she should quicken her pace. He tapped her gently on the thigh and she stopped her ride, flexing her inner walls in gratitude. James looked at her reflection and pulled her back to him, his mouth meeting her ear, “We have to stop—you’re gonna make me cum.”
“I know.” Said with a soft lust filled voice. Trixie started again.
“Wait, wait, wait.” He seethed trying to fight his own pleasure, “I’ve got an idea.” James zipped up and buckled his belt.
Trixie flushed and beautifully fucked slid off his lap into her own chair and gave a pout. James seeing her look laughed that rich toffee English laugh, “Grab your glass and follow me.” He held her hand and they made their way, guilt ridden, to the bar.
“Yes, Mr. Merryweather? How can I help?” The manager spoke, only too eager to please.
“Oliver, I was wondering if by chance we might have a look at your cellar?” James squeezed Trixie’s hand.
“The cellar, well yes of course,” Oliver signaled a waiter to refill the couple’s glasses, “if you can call it a cellar,” he lifted the panel up from the bar and the pair passed trough, “it’s more of a cold room really.”
The trio walked through chefs in scarves and busboys in white aprons, at last before them, a silver plated door.
“Well, here we are, not everything is stored here, but it gives you an idea of the volume we go through. All this will probably last us five days, if that.” Oliver paid no attention to Trixie. “Were you thinking of purchasing something for home? We’re not supposed to sell out of our cellar, but I’m positive something could be arranged, Mr. Merryweather.”
“Wonderful. Yes, actually I was thinking of making a purchase.” James feigned interest a the one hundred plus bottles of bubbly, “Could you maybe see what kind of deal you could get me on a case of Veuve Clicquot?”
Oliver’s eyes lit up at the thought, “Yes of course! Splendid! I’ll be back in a tic.”
“Fantastic. I’ll just pursue your selection then, till you get back.” James gave a sly side-glance to Trixie and rolled his eyes.
“Wonderful, Sir.” Oliver offered a bow and excused himself from the room. “Quick, lock the door,” James said mischievously with wetted lips, “lock it, quick!” On hearing the latch click he grabbed Trixie, turned her round, and kissed her hard on the mouth; his hands ran along her thighs and he raised her dress. She pushed him away, playfully, then pulled him by his necktie to the floor; unloosened his belt and found his all too ready cock.
He drove himself inside her, all the while looking deep into her baby blues. Her eyes closed, she felt hot all over, and found herself tightening on his cock.
“Ohhhh, Fuck.” He purred.
“Touch me. Play with my pussy.” She begged, and fucked him back with greedy hips. He licked his thumb and put it to her erect little bud. “Mmmm.” She moaned and he knew he’d found the right spot. “Make me cum.” She whispered lowly.
James looked her over: those wide blue eyes, her wet cherry stained mouth, the way she looked while being fucked was too gorgeous for words. He watched his cock slide in and out of her shaven cunt; slick with wetness he’d never known.