ACTOR Don Johnson was driving his car towards Palm Beach with screen star Jennifer Connelly by his side. Exhilaration course through his veins as he flicked his eyes at Jenny sitting in front of the passenger seat with one leg tucked under her. Of course Jenny certainly was something. Beautiful, 26 years old with knockers that can start a man drool at the count of three. Jenny was playing a game with Don about the vehicles they encounter on the road.
"Now what can you make out of this one, Don?" Jenny said pointing to the Explorer that they were tailing off. He flinched a bit at the aching erection in his pants.
"Well, the Explorer evokes rugged destinations that offer adventure beyond suburbia. Other such road-runners like Pathfinder, Montana, Yukon, Voyager, Expedition, Discovery, Trooper, all belong to this category about relationship with the environment," he replied keeping his cool.
"Hmmm, that's clever. What about your car here, what does this say?" asked Jenny.
"Well, lemme see, this is Galaxy—it's something looming large; something mysterious and exciting. Cars with names like Starfire, Aurora, Nova, Eclipse, Cornet, Horizon all fall into the category of something embodied in the atmosphere. Aren't they?"
"Yeah, brilliant observation. Then what does it say with the person driving it?"
"Hmmm...High-tech and optimistic, also wont to invite thoughts of passion."
"Ah yuh? Cool."
Just when they were slowing down to turn to a bend, a car came upon them which also aroused Jenny's curiosity. "What's that one?"
"Well, that I think is a 96 Viper. It belongs to those wild creatures that were also named for cars with the likes of Hornet, Ram, Bobcat, Mustang, Bronco, Tiburon, and Barracuda. These are names of creatures that are wild, feral and hard to control."
"I have an old Fiat Spider."
"So you are a spider, huh? What kind of a spider would you be?
"Probably, a Tarantula"
"That's a deadly spider."
"Deadly but it can be a pet too," she said keeping down her skirt from flapping up.
"Who wouldn't love to pet you," he said grinning.
"Hey Don, did you ever get b.j'd in the car?"
"Yeah, A few times."
"While in a running car?"
"Yeah!"
"How about you, did you?"
"Did I give no, did I get? None at all."
"You're kidding me,"
"No it's true, never happened to me in the car but elsewhere yes," she chuckled a hearty laugh. "Would you believe while I was on horseback?" Don shook his shoulders and joined her with her laughter.
Soon a large wrought iron gate loomed at them and it opened by its own after Don announced his name in the intercom. He and his companion were already expected guests.
"Here we are, my friend's estate, isn't it beautiful?"
"It is! Smells and looks like a setting from a James Bond movie. Hey, your friend has lots of mullah.Who's he?"
"Henri Martilieri. That's him over there waving at us," he said as they approached the forecourt of his mansion.
Henri is well into his sixties; dapper and very distinguished looking. He's with two sexily clad girls, a ravishing white blond and a colored vixen.
"Hello Don, good to see you." They shook hands and hugged each other.
"It's great to see you Henri. This is Jenny Connelly, a colleague of mine, Jenny, my dear friend Henri Martilieri."
"I'm pleased to meet you Mr. Henri Martilieri."
"Delighted. Call me Henri," he admonished reaching for Jenny's hand and lightly kissing the knuckles. "Gosh young lady, God must have spent more time with you," eyeing her sensuous body. "Please meet Marissa and Xenia."
"Hi!" White teeth baring and big tits flaunting from their dare to bare outfits
.
"Hi!" Don and Jenny said in unison and shook hands with them.
"Henri –you are a fortunate man. Seems like you've got everything here," Jenny said.
Henri laughed. "Ho, ho ho not everything. But I could say I'm lucky enough. Welcome to my estate."
"Thank you Henri, I'm humbly honored being invited here."
"Don't mention it, you'll be always welcome here my dear."
"What's with the suitcases? I thought you're leaving tonight yet?" Don asked.
"I'm leaving for Paris tonight but I happened to have a rather urgent lunch meeting with Senator Davis in Washington, so I am rushing there before I take my flight to Paris."
Then he called Ambrosio, his butler "Amby you take care of our guests Mr. Johnson and Miss Connelly here, see that no harm comes to them and I leave you with attending to their needs at your own proper disposal."
"Yes, Mr. Martilieri."
A muscular guy named Devlin hauled out Don's golf bag and Jenny's valise from the car.
"Don, I am throwing a big party on Saturday night and I'm inviting you and Jenny to come. I invited Josh Groban to sing in the party."
"Of course," Don said.
"And would you Jenny?"
"Thank you, and I accept the invitation."
"Good, so I'll see you then and I hope you two have a good time here. By the way, Jenny, Don here is one hell of a good duffer." He winked at them as he slipped into his silver cloud Rolls along with the two girls. The liveried chauffeur started the engine and slowly the gleaming silver cloud vehicle quietly eased out of the driveway.
Jenny was awed by the luxury of the mansion filled with aesthetic ambiance, rich decors, fabulous rugs and valuable paintings by the likes of Matisse, Renoir, Goya and other works of art by artists of fame repute.
Jenny and Don were staring at the huge portrait of Henri when Amby approached them and said, "Excuse me Mr. Johnson and Miss Connelly, may I present to you the keys to your bedrooms both situated upstairs. Miss Connelly, your room is to the left preceding Mr. Johnson's. Your things are already inside your bedrooms. Lunch will be served at 1:00 PM. If you wish to snack, there is food and beverage at the veranda. Please feel free to suggest anything you want and we shall be of service to you."
In the Martillieri Mansion the rule is if his guests are not married they are to be in separate rooms.
"Thank you Amby, Miss Connelly and I will take the snack in the veranda."
The sight of the grand garden from the veranda was bedazzling; green arches, profusion of flowers, cedar trees, geometrically trim bushes, fountains, swimming pool, statues and the golf range beyond all speak of how organized they were all designed. Don and Jenny snacked on fruits, tea, Alta Rica coffee, oven fresh French baguettes with liver paté, pesto on wheat bread, and cheeses topped off with assorted teacakes and pastries.
Later, Don and Jenny took a golf cart to tour the garden before they settled into the green link. Both wore shorts and Jenny's were so skimpy that Don tried most of the time to behave under the circumstances.
Don introduced Jenny to his custom made golf equipment. As much as they are as tall as each other, Don is just 5'9" and Jenny is 5'8," the clubs wouldn't be out of line.
Then he worked on the basics, the warm up first, then the grip, how to swing the club, what club to use and so on and so forth. Don was behind her back when he gave her the instructions like the "V" grip and how she would swing. Jenny was quick to learn and she was amazed on how she would hit the ball and make a 200 yard drive.
"Jenny, you are a natural, you can make it to the women's league."
After his compliment, Jenny teed up another ball and excitedly stepped up, shuffled, wiggled (so far so good), then swung, missing the ball completely and whacking the turf pad. She had a delicious laugh.
Jenny sat on the ground and watched Don do the swing strokes as he continued his instructions. Though the mechanics of gripping and swinging the club can fill books, Don's style is uncomplicated. Don taught her to develop a smooth stroke without obsessing over technique, so he created a few checkpoints for every swing.
A little more than half an hour passed and Jenny was on her feet and Don teed for her the ball. Jenny hit a perfect shot: a lovely parabola of a 9-iron shot up into the blue, then dropped like a dying quail on a line of 100 yards from her feet.
After a series of range driving Jenny said: "Looks like that the less I care about my shot, the better I swing."
"That's right," said Don.
When Don saw that Jenny's hands were a bit blistering, they rested and he applied lotion on them and gave her wrists simple massages. Jenny giggled by Don's touch. Don the ever perfect gentleman restrained himself from touching her enticing legs, screaming to be nibbled like the finger-lickin' southern fried chicken.
Lunch was served to the accompaniment of harp music. It was a return to the world of gleaming sterling-silver pieces and porcelaine fine de boheme, hand-painted by an artist in the Czech Republic. The food consisted of broiled Chilean sea bass with caramelized oranges and ginger potatoes and the braised short ribs in Guinness and black bean sauce plus Chinese slaw. They had fried ice cream for desert. Don talked mostly about golf; after all, this was the primary reason why they were here—for him to teach Jenny.
Soon Devlin and Suzy Kim, a Korean masseuse gave Don and Jenny each a relaxing massage that led them to fall asleep.