The Maestro (5 page)

Maria rained
down a series of strident strokes on the girl's buttocks, the
reddened marks on Montse's bottom highlighted by the bright
spotlight, each stroke causing the cheering crowd to drown out
Montse's pained cries.

Linda felt
Alfonso's hand taking her own.

'It's your
turn, Linda.'

'What?'

'Give in,
relax. You are very beautiful. It is beautiful. Don't fight against
it.'

'Against
what?'

Alfonso
smiled, but he didn't speak.

'What do you
want me to do, Alfonso?'

He stared at
her as his hand slid along her stockinged leg, gliding up the
nylon, causing the most delicate of tingling sensations along the
surface of her skin. She let him, all the time staring back at his
smiling eyes. His hand was creeping to the edge of her underwear,
then under, brushing lightly on her soft flesh. She relaxed a
little in her chair, to let his finger slide deeper along the ridge
of her sex. Yes, she did want him.

Alfonso
momentarily averted his gaze back to the stage. Linda looked too.
Montse was now spread-eagled on the sofa; the bulky man who had
asked for volunteers was plumping his thick penis into her gaping
mouth, as Maria continued to lash the curvaceous bottom of the
young Spanish girl.

What was
happening? Images flashed through Linda's mind. She seemed to be
aware of nothing but a burning desire inside her.

'Alfonso,
here?' Linda asked, turning her eyes back on him.

'Don't worry,
all things are possible here. Trust me.'

Alfonso knelt
between her outstretched legs, his hands grasping her firmly by her
white thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, pulling
aside the gusset of her panties, his tongue began to probe inside
her engorged sex lips.

She looked
around her. Nobody seemed interested in what Alfonso was doing to
her. Similar acts of cunnilingus and fellatio were being performed
all around the club.

Alfonso was so
tantalisingly gentle, his tongue circling the bud of her clitoris,
making her gasp with pleasure.

The chubby compere stared over at her: '
La Inglesa, venga!
'

Suddenly she
was aware of another man towering above her, then standing behind
her and threading his hands through her arms. She felt herself
being lifted backwards on her chair, then lifted clear. There was
Alfonso and there was the other man who seemed to have appeared
from nowhere, a black man, a beautiful tall, elegantly dressed
black man in a black linen suit. She could smell his cologne. His
eyes were boring into her.

She was
weightless. They were carrying her towards the spotlight, into the
light and onto the sofa where she had just witnessed Maria caning
the young Spanish girl. She glanced up at the black man carrying
her, his arms threaded through hers; his hands were squashing her
breasts over her dress. She was aware of a crowd of people moving
towards her, cheering at her. She felt both bewildered and
exhilarated.

A moment later
she was on the sofa. She watched the beautiful man in the black
linen suit as he sneaked his fingers under the soft black lace of
her brassiere. She could feel the heat of his hands over her chest,
brushing against her throbbing rubbery nipples. Alfonso was there
too, still pulling the gusset of her panties aside, his tongue
rolling over each of her sex lips, his teeth lightly nipping the
swollen fleshy folds, making her tingle. One of his hands was now
pushing down on her abdomen, increasing the pressure inside her,
building another wave of increasingly uninhibited pleasure.

The beautiful
black man in the silk shirt and the linen suit had removed his
enormous cock from his trousers and stroked it in front of Linda's
eyes. It was irresistible. Alfonso was flicking his tongue inside
her, his hand still pressing down on her abdomen increasing the
tension she felt inside her.

She took the
robust cock of the young man into her mouth. He held it by the base
of his shaft as she slid up and down on him, spreading her own
saliva over the skin, taking him so far into her mouth her lips
touched his fingers. He tasted so salty, so fresh.

The pressure
in her abdomen was now joined by a tingling sensation in her breast
as the man tweaked hard on her swollen nipples. She arched her neck
further over and, threading her hand under his thighs, pressed
first against his perineum and then pushed her finger on his tight
anus.

As Linda slid a finger up the man's bottom Alfonso had slid a
finger up hers, pressing against the thin membrane that separated
her rectum from her vagina, as his tongue pressed against the wall
of tissue on the other side. She sucked harder on the boy, using
her fingers and hand to propel her mouth further down onto his
shaft. The boy continued to tweak her nipples painfully, and with
his other hand occasionally tugged on her hair, adding
another
frisson
of
pain over the overwhelming pleasure that pulsated through her
body.

She felt that
her body would explode with the skilful way that Alfonso
manipulated her. However each time she thought she was going to
come, Alfonso would ease the pressure on her so she stayed on the
brink of climax, her sexual hunger making her suck even more
greedily on the boy.

Her next
recollection was of lying on the parquet floor beside the sofa, her
dress having being pulled up over her thighs and pulled down over
her breasts so it gathered at her waist, her white panties having
being roughly tugged down. She was pinned down by the arms by the
repulsive bald compere, his thick cock flopping onto her face,
tickling her skin, his love juice slithering onto the side of her
blushed cheek. Alfonso had raised her lower torso and clasped the
meat of her inner thighs, pushing them down onto her chest, so hard
that his fingernails dug into the whiteness of her flesh. The black
man was fucking her hard, his long cock ferociously pumping inside
her, his finger now jabbing inside her anus, squashing up against
the movement of his hard thick cock.

Her eyes were
shut tight, clenched over the multiple sensations she was feeling.
The bald man had slipped his thick cock into her mouth. It tasted
different to the younger man's; his semen was thicker and saltier.
She could hardly move her head as his tool pistoned in her. She
felt the sharp pain in her arms as his knees constricted her; she
felt Alfonso's grip tightening even harder on her, her breasts
squashed flat against her knees and the delightful sensation of a
rigid pole pushing hard and deep inside her.

Momentarily
she opened her eyes, seeking release from the immensity of the
intense physical sensations that pulsated inside her. She saw a
crowd of faces looking down at her. Some were staring into her
eyes, some at the steel-hard rod that flicked in and out of her
mouth; others were glued to her exposed sex, the swollen folds of
her quim on display for all to see. She could see the greed and the
lust in their faces, both men and women, but she had passed the
stage of concerning herself about being seen so nakedly. In fact it
added another layer of excitement over the already exhilarating
pleasure she felt. And she was so modest normally, had always
been.

The bald man
jismed in her mouth. She felt his hot seed exploding inside her,
filling her until she had to move her head sideways to avoid it
slipping down her throat. The sight must have driven the black man
to the brink of orgasm because he began fucking her harder and
harder with a ruthless manic thrusting. He was panting. There was a
gleam of perspiration on his forehead. She reached her hand down to
touch his where they had so firmly clasped her by her buttocks. She
was coming. Her body started its paroxysm as she jerked against the
constraints of hands and knees and arms that had been placed on
her, and then felt hot seed gushing into her, its heat extending
each pulse of her orgasm.

She looked at
the crowd one more time. Her eyes momentarily focused on one face
that looked slightly less satiric than the others did, something
more curious in his mien, the dark soulful eyes, the full lips and
the thick wiry beard. She lost the face and the memory of the face,
her eyes clenching tight as she rode the waves of her orgasm to its
intense conclusion.

The memories
came back slowly, reality blending with dream, the former only very
slowly disentangling from the latter. Even as her mind gained full
consciousness from the heavy sleep into which she had fallen, she
could not be totally sure what had happened and what she had
dreamed.

The problem
was that she could only remember things disconnectedly. She could
recollect that Maria had held her in her arms and she had buried
her head on the girl's chest. Then they had been in a taxi,
although Alfonso hadn't been there. She remembered the noise from
the busy streets, late night revellers sitting under parasols, then
later the quiet deserted streets around La Sagrada Familia, before
speeding along a stretch of coast...

Suddenly she
realised that she was not in her hotel room but at Maria's. She was
lying in a king-size bed, a stream of light entering the room. She
could smell the sea and hear the ululations of distant
seagulls.

She turned her
head around and noticed an indentation on the pillow beside her.
There was no mistake. She had slept with Maria. Nothing had
happened, but she could recall watching Maria undressing, stepping
out of the white dress, her beautiful breasts shimmering in the
moonlight, then a glimpse of the white curves of her bottom as she
climbed between the sheets. Linda had kissed her breasts gently and
they had fallen asleep in each other's arms.

She didn't
know what to think about what had happened the previous night. The
experience had been too immense for it to be reified into something
as clear and discernible as past experience. She could remember the
intensity of her orgasm, but she also recalled with some horror the
lascivious eyes staring at her nakedness, and recoiled from the
memory. She decided not to think about it at all, to temporarily
blanket it in her mind until distance could create a more rational
perspective.

She took in
the simple decor of the room, the white stucco walls, a couple of
Kadinsky prints, and the French windows, opening onto terracotta
tiled balcony.

The sudden
realisation dawned on her that she hadn't rung Sebastian. They had
arranged that she should ring him on his mobile phone because, even
though Sebastian had Alfonso's number, he preferred her to ring him
so that they could speak together in privacy.

As she thought
about Sebastian, Maria entered the room dressed in a bottle-green
towline bathrobe. Her face was open and smiling. She seemed a
completely different girl from the night before; gone was the bored
expression, the laconic posturing, the sulky petulance. She looked
cheerful and interested.

'Ah Linda.
You're awake. How are you?'

'Fine, I
think.'

'That was some
night,' Maria said, smiling again before sitting beside Linda on
the white sheet of the bed.

'What
happened?'

'Don't you
remember?'

'I remember
some things.'

'You were
fantastic.'

'How did I end
up here?'

'I thought it
was best. You fainted after...'

'I
fainted?'

'Yes, I
thought that I better bring you home so that I could look after
you.'

'Thank you.'
Images of the previous night still flitted through Linda's mind.
She thought of the sight of the seemingly innocent woman in front
of her whipping the bare-bottomed girl on the stage.

'That
champagne, what was in it?'

'Nothing more
than a mild aphrodisiac.'

'I should have
been told.'

'Linda, the
champagne helped arouse you. It didn't stop you from walking
out.'

'Still, all
the same.'

'Are you
angry?'

'A
little.'

'I'm sorry.'
Maria smiled, her eyes beaming radiantly.

'Where am I?'
Linda asked, not at all sure whether she was angry or not.

'Only thirty
kilometres north of Barcelona.'

'Where's
Alfonso?'

'It's
Sunday.'

'So?'

'He's a true
Catalan man. It's Sunday so he has to go home to lunch with his
mother and father and grandparents. It's something of a tradition
here. But he's going to call in a few minutes, to talk about your
portfolio.'

'Sorry?'

'He's at your
hotel. He's looking through your work. Don't you remember, you
asked for an opinion last night? You gave him the key to your room.
You understood that he wanted to look alone. Don't you
remember?'

She didn't
remember at all, she must have been incredibly drunk. She didn't
really like the idea of Alfonso rummaging around in her hotel
room.

'Look, I have
to make a phone call.'

'No
problem.'

'To Peru.'

Maria smiled
and passed her the phone that lay on her dressing room table at the
side of her bed.

'Thanks.' She
dialled the number and let it ring. There was no answer. He could
have been in some meeting with the director, something legitimate,
but an image of Sebastian fucking a naked Simone Jaeger, his
luscious sexy co-star, came to mind. Hadn't he said something about
meeting up with Simone Jaeger at Lima airport? She was pretty sure
it wouldn't take him very long to bed her. She would be a
temptation to any man, with that beautiful black wavy hair, the
sable eyes and those suggestive, shapely lips. And then there was
the figure, the broad hips and the unbelievably narrow waist, and
those breasts were amazing! It didn't matter, as she had bitchily
thought, that the breasts were silicone or that her lips were
colegened, nor that she couldn't act, she was still beautiful; it
certainly wouldn't matter to Sebastian.