The Freyja Club

The Hawker 700B descended through the clouds over Lac Leman for a southwest approach into Cointrin International Airport which is on the northern outskirts of Geneva hard against the French Border. Myself, Pete, the CFO of my company, and a management trainee named "Joe" were the only passengers.

A week ago, David, the CEO of the company that I worked for called me in Paris where I was attempting to finalize the purchase of a French company in our line of business, but his call wasn't to check on my progress, but rather to inform me that they had noticed some unusual movement in our company's stock that might signal that someone might be interested in mounting a hostile takeover of us.

I had convinced him that if that was true and we weren't being targeted by a corporate raider like Carl Ichan, then I thought that one of two companies located in Europe was most likely involved. I had asked him to send my personal assistant Meredith over with two of our management trainees and I said I would set up a temporary office in Paris and try to ferret out what might be happening. David had agreed and said he would send one of our three corporate jets.

Four days ago the plane landed at Le Bourget outside of Paris and in addition to the people that I'd asked for there were two in addition. The first was Merideth's husband Ralph who had just retired from his job as a county supervisor and was coming to keep Merideth company. The second was Pete, who wanted to be near the action when we started to make contacts and sift through information. I didn't know how long Pete planned to stay, but I appreciated him coming. He had a great mind for all things finance and not only did he have his own network of helpful contacts, but he was someone that I felt comfortable playing the myriad of "what ifs" with.

We had two appointments scheduled, a luncheon meeting with a Geneva banker, and an evening dinner with a friend of mine who had retired last year, but before that, he was someone who had his fingers on the pulse of what was going on with European businesses across the continent. I didn't think that either was likely to have the answer to the who and why questions we had, but I was hopeful they could direct us to others who could.

Vic executed his normal soft landing and I marveled at his ability to make the wheels of the Hawker just caress the runway every time. He taxied us to the private terminal operated by Signature Aviation and once inside he gave me a card with the number where I could reach him. Vic had flown F-15s for the Air Force, but he lamented that he was too late for Vietnam and too early for whatever was next. He was the chief pilot for our modest three-plane fleet and frankly, I was a little surprised that he himself had volunteered to fly over. When I asked, he smiled and said that he was getting tired of flying over Iowa cornfields and thought that the Alps would be a welcome change of scenery.

We called for two cabs and when they arrived, I put Joe in one and Pete and I crawled into the other. I had given Joe the mission of profiling the Swiss company that was one of my suspects. He was off to an appointment with a woman who was a research analyst who worked for a large broker. She followed our industry closely and I knew that she had written several reports on the company and Joe was charged with picking her brain. There were at least two others that I was aware of and he would be speaking with them too over the next several days. I also told him to seek out and contact former employees or anyone else that he might come across. I gave him ten thousand Swiss Francs to use if it would tease out information. Joe's eyes had widened when I put the cash in his hands and I think it dawned on him for the first time that there were business techniques not taught at the Wharton School of Business.

Our other management trainee, Matt, had been sent on a similar mission to check out the German company that I considered a possible suitor. I had wondered what qualification Matt had to be sent over to help, but I soon discovered that while he was from Wisconsin, he was actually born in Germany and spoke the language. He and his family had emigrated to the United States when he was fourteen. I had set up two appointments for him, but he had similar instructions to use his own initiative. We'd see if the trainees were good for anything, that was for sure.

When Pete first arrived, one of my questions was, exactly how had we discovered the "unusual" movement in the company stock? Pete had laughed and mentioned the name of a young woman who worked for him. She had been reviewing the company's stock register when she saw that there were purchases every single day for 14 days from a broker in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Each was for the exact same amount, 1,286 shares. When she multiplied that number by fourteen, it was almost exactly 18,000 shares all of which were held in a "street name" so the identity of the actual purchaser was hidden. It appeared to her that someone had commissioned the broker to quietly purchase those shares over a period of time, but then out of laziness or incompetence, the broker had just initiated an order for one-fourteenth of the amount each day rather than randomizing the purchases. This prompted her to look for other "street name" purchases and she found a broker in Oakland, California who had bought over 20,000 shares, but had done a better job of timing the purchases and varying the amounts

In all, she discovered that over 50,000 shares had been accumulated over the last two months which was close to two percent of the company. I was impressed and suggested that the young lady was due a bonus. Pete nodded and told me that he'd already taken care of that.

The luncheon was basically a wash-out except that the banker was aware that our suspect firm had recently closed on the sale of a part of their business and had received a cash infusion that amounted to about thirty million dollars. Pete and I agreed that thirty million was a pretty nice war chest. Later as we were sitting in a bar awaiting the arrival of Dylan, Pete asked why I hadn't been aware of the sale since he thought that I monitored such things.

I gave him a sheepish smile and said that I do, but the ones I tend to pay attention to are the ones in our line of business. I explained that there were two kinds of businesses, those that expanded vertically and those that did so horizontally. A vertically integrated company would be one where the output of one part of the company was input for a different part. In effect, the company was a supplier to itself. A horizontal organization was just the opposite. We were an example. All of our acquisitions had expanded us into compatible product lines, but we didn't buy either suppliers or customers. This was part of our core strategy because it was my opinion that, because of the availability of internal demand, vertically integrated companies lost bargaining power and were inherently less efficient. The sale that we had discovered was one where an internal supplier had been jettisoned, and if the proceeds were being redirected to acquire us, then they had discovered the truth of what I'd just stated. I hadn't paid that much attention, because their spin-off wouldn't have been of any interest to us.

Dylan soon appeared and had a drink with us at the bar until it was time to leave for dinner. He drove us to his club in Colgony, about fifteen minutes away on a bluff overlooking Lac Leman. Dylan and I probably spent too much time recounting old war stories as he was one of my first contacts when we began to expand into Europe. I had retained him on occasion because of his impressive stable of contacts and of course, that's what I hoped to tap into again.

We had a delicious meal of roast venison and a few too many glasses of Burgundy to wash it down with, but he did have some good leads that made the trip worthwhile. He generally agreed with my assessment that the potential threat to our company was most likely coming from Europe, but he had one additional company to add to our suspect list. It was a company in Italy that he said was under new management with some serious old money behind it. It wasn't really in our industry, but I could immediately see the connection. He gave me the names of two people that he thought could help and after a very much not needed cordial, he drove us back to the airport, and a little before ten p.m. Vic repeated his landing magic as we arrived back in Paris.

Since the arrival of the Hawker on Friday evening today had been the first day of real work. I was well aware of the effects of jet lag on people who weren't used to it and since the phones and faxes in our temporary office wouldn't be ready until sometime on Tuesday, it was pointless to try to do anything over the weekend from hotel rooms, so I gave everyone off until then. Merideth did check out the 'travel agency' on the mezzanine level of the Hotel du Republique where we were staying since it would be her responsibility to make sure it was ready. I had told her the story of how the 'travel agency' came to be our temporary office location, and she, like I, thought the selection an absolute masterstroke. She said it would be talked about for the next hundred years. In the morning, I'd see if France Télécom had successfully done what they promised.

Everyone departed for their rooms, as did I, but after a shave, shower, and a change of clothes, I grabbed the keys to one of the Citroën's in the car park and drove fifteen minutes to Lily's apartment in Épinay-sur-Seine. I knew that she wouldn't be there since her shift as a hostess at the Freyja Club didn't end until two a.m. but I liked being where I could sense her presence.

I had no need for more alcohol, so I just stripped naked, crawled under the comforter, and stared at the large portrait of Lily that hung on the wall at the foot of her bed. It was a beautiful lacquer-on canvas painting that showed Lily from the waist up. She was wearing the gold tiara that served as her name tag at the club, a beautiful string of pearls, and matching earrings, but other than that she was naked. Her magnificent breasts jutted from her chest with just the right amount of sag to look real rather than contrived, and her edible nipples pouted from quarter-sized pink arolia. The artist had posed her facing to the left but at an oblique angle, so that her face, which faced outward, had a natural look. She was smiling in an almost identical way that "Mona Lisa" made famous and her blonde hair, blue eyes, and pinkish-red lips were captured exactly as they looked in real life. The first time I had seen it, it rattled me to my core. Lily had fallen asleep next to me, but I just couldn't. I "knew" the woman in the painting in a soul-deep way that I knew wasn't just the result of our two-day relationship. It wasn't until a few days later that I discovered a rational basis for the feeling that so unsettled me. I realized that I had fallen in love with her.

I had introduced Lily to my team at a Sunday night dinner that I'd hosted at a five-star restaurant in Montmartre and had credited her with finding the 'travel agency' that would be our temporary business home. Everyone agreed that it would be a memorable story and she was immediately adopted as one of us. Of course, no one was aware of her job at the Frayja Club but I doubted that anyone missed the fact that I was quite stricken with her. Merideth raised her eyebrows, but since she had seen numerous women on my arm at various company functions, I suspected that she just chalked off Lily as just the latest pretty bauble that had captured my eye.

On Monday, which was one of her days off, Lily had acted as a tour guide and I rented the Peugeot van again for the purpose. Lily had a good grasp of French history and told engaging stories as we moved around the city. We didn't really tarry in any one place because Lily's goal was to highlight sites that could be visited later if someone wanted to experience them in deeper detail. The one exception was the Eiffel Tower because she had made reservations at Madame Brasserie restaurant on the first deck for lunch. The view of the city was spectacular, but even Lily was impressed when I mentioned that my high school senior prom was held in this very room while I was attending school in France as an "army brat" in the 1960s. Meredith grumbled that her's was held in a smelly gym and everyone laughed at the stark difference in our high school experiences.

I had spent almost every night in Lily's bed since our mutual discovery that we had fallen in love. I still maintained my room at the Hotel du Republic and most of my clothes remained there and I needed to utilize the hotel's laundry service, but in my private time, I just wanted to be with Lily. I think Merideth had figured it out, but she had known me for so long that I doubted that I could put anything past her even if I tried. I don't know whether she approved or disapproved of my bachelor lifestyle but I never felt that she was judging me in any event. When, or if, things began to heat up I might have to make some adjustments to my sleeping arrangements but I pushed that question to the back of my mind. I wasn't going to worry about future events that for now would just be speculation.

Since the memorable threesome with Danielle and Lily three nights ago, we hadn't gotten carnal with each other, preferring to just cuddle and talk. It was a pleasant interlude after the non-stop debauchery that we had engaged in the previous week, but now rested, I sensed that I was desirous of possessing Lily's body again. I could feel the familiar tingle in my cock that some people describe as "horniness." I liked to think of it as anticipation, but in any event, it was one of my last conscious thoughts before I drifted off to sleep.

Lily woke me with a gentle kiss on my lips. I opened my eyes and saw her leaning over me. She was still dressed, so the kiss was the first thing she did. I smiled and said, "Hi babe." Lily's eyes sparkled since she'd told me how much she likes being called "babe," a word that doesn't have a counterpart in French. Of course, she countered with "Salut solder." She had been referring to me as a soldier since I told her about my service as an Infantry captain in Vietnam, and the banter had evolved into a standard greeting between us.

Her next comment was a question of sorts, as she leaned over my face, "Miss me?" she said. I chuckled and came back with, "If you lose the clothes, I'll show you how much." Less than thirty seconds later a very naked Lily slid in beside me and with no hesitation, reached for and grabbed my firming but not yet erect cock at the same time that she snuggled up to find my lips. Lily's tongue played with mine as her warm hand squeezed and fondled my shaft and I could feel the tale-tell tingle of my arousal shooting up the charts.

Lily asked about my trip to Geneva and I gave her a very brief and condensed version of what we'd discovered, but I found that I was forcing myself to focus on Lily's question when all that I really wanted to do was feel the insides of her warm wet cunt caress and clutch down on my cock as it impaled her.

Lily was no fool when it came to the carnal arts and she could feel my hardening steel in her hand, so without further ado, she whispered in my mouth, "Fuck me." I rolled her onto her back and she guided me to the gates with her hand. I could immediately feel the heat of her core as she wedged the tip of my penis into her opening and paused for a moment to gaze up into my eyes. We had fallen into a habit of taking the moment when I was poised to push into her to just look deeply at one another as we both mouthed the words "I love you." It was the trigger for me to push and for her to pull my rigid cock into her.

Since we hadn't spent much time on the preliminaries, Lily wasn't as wet as usual, but she had told me that even with no stimulation the skin just inside her vaginal lips was always moist and slick, so when I pushed, I could feel her natural lube easing the way. Lily moaned her approval with a satisfied "mmmm," as she experienced my shaft slide across and into her vagina. When I'd penetrated about halfway, I paused and Lily took the cue to wrap her legs around my thighs, and then raising her hips she was able to use her strong legs to pull me in the rest of the way.

Our two-day hiatus from sex had the effect of rejuvenating my desire for her, and I luxuriated in the feeling of her moist warmth surrounding and clutching my cock as I began to slowly pull and push into her. Earlier in our relationship, Lily would implore with the words "Baise-Moi," but I had told her that the French didn't carry the raw sexuality as the English equivalent, so since then she had uttered "Fuck me" in its place. Now, with me filling her, I began to increase the rhythm and Lily responded to each thrust. "Fuck me... fuck me... oh God, don't stop... give me your wonderful cock... fuck me... fuck meeee!" I loved the dirty talk and it spurred me to drive myself into her with increasing fury.

More so than any other woman I had fucked, other than perhaps Jennifer, Lily seemed to be able to trigger her own orgasm almost on demand. I had felt her hand slip between our bodies and I knew she was rubbing her clit. I wasn't clear about how she manipulated her arousal so that we usually climaxed together but she had demonstrated the ability a number of times. It relieved me of some sense of responsibility and I concentrated on achieving my own release.

When I heard Lily moan and her breathing began the "ugh, ugh, ugh" cadence I knew she was close, but so was I. The stimulation that emanated from my cock was creating fireworks in my brain and when I closed my eyes, I didn't see darkness, instead, I sensed a fiery redness behind my eyelids as I struggled to cum.

When Lily arched her back and dug her fingernails into my back I knew she was there and I released whatever meager control I had left to shoot my hot cum into her welcoming hole. Lily's hands were tearing my skin as her legs struggled to pull me deeper, but I was already hard against her cervix and my seed was already seeking the pathway that Nature had designed for the survival of the species.

Lily was covered with a sheen of sweat and I was no better. I felt like I had just run a marathon and suddenly weariness overwhelmed me and I rolled from Lily's embrace. She half-heartedly tried to keep me inside of her, but my rapidly deflating cock made that impossible. As I lay on my back, I felt like a thoroughbred after a race, my heart was beating in my chest and breathing was only possible in short ragged gasps. When I had dismounted, Lily had turned on her side and pressed herself against me as the waves of her own orgasm continued to echo through her body. When she was able she snuggled into my chest and I put my arm around her and for a while we just lay together enjoying the never-never-land of contentment that always seems to follow sex.

When I raised my eyes, the Lily in the painting appeared to be looking down on the sexually satiated couple on the bed, and it appeared, at least to me, that her smile was a tad broader than I remembered.