Brianna Clarke's Caribbean Investigation
Tuesday
Brianna Clarke gave the appearance of a gorgeous woman on a Caribbean holiday, lounging by the pool in a neon green string bikini, feet dangling in the water, palms on the deck behind her, face to the sun. But she was working. Hired to find a diamond thief.
She'd arrived at the exclusive resort that afternoon and within an hour had already fended off the advances of two men and one woman. They were not her target. Her suspect was the handsome thirty-something reading his kindle in the lounge chair next to hers.
On the plane she'd read his file that contained a grainy photograph that didn't do justice to his good looks and buff body. She also knew his and his partner's sexual proclivities.
She slipped into the saline pool to cool off. It was so refreshing after basking in the afternoon sun. She swam leisurely, got out of the pool, and strolled over to her chaise lounge. Putting on her floppy sunhat and sunglasses, she resumed her seat and picked up her book.
"Excuse me," he said. His smile was almost as bright as the sun reflecting off the pool's water.
"I noticed that you're reading Emmanuelle," he said. "Enjoying it?"
"Why are you asking?"
"I'm an amateur scholar of French erotic literature," he said. "Have you read the Story of O?"
"Emmanuelle is better. O is a submissive sex slave whereas Emmanuelle is an empowered sexually adventurous woman."
"Which are you?"
"It depends upon the situation."
"I'm Tom."
"Brianna."
They shook hands.
For the next half hour, they discussed 19th century erotica publications while she sipped a frozen daiquiri, and he consumed rum punches.
"What about the Marquis de Sade?" he asked.
"Haven't read any."
"I have an illustrated copy of Juliette in my room. Do you read French?"
"Is that required to understand the pictures?"
"Oh, I like you," he said folding up his kindle and putting on his shirt and sandals.
She slid her book into her tote bag, slipped on a sheer white coverup, and stepped into her flipflops.
Tom's well-appointed bungalow was similar to hers. Living room, bedroom, and a private screened-in terrace with a view of the beach and the Caribbean Sea.
"Want anything?" he offered.
"No. I'm good."
"I'll be back in a moment."
She ambled onto the terrace and drank in the magnificent vista of swaying palm trees, sandy beach, and blue water. She heard the unseen birds singing and tasted the salt in the gentle breeze.
In the distance the hotel manager strolled through the lush gardens with a clipboard in his left hand. That was the signal that Tom's bungalow had been searched and the diamond was still missing.
"Here's the book."
Tom handed her a vintage hardcover edition of Juliette.
She opened it randomly to a drawing of a five-couple orgy. She skimmed a few more pages. An illustration of a man screwing a woman -- it might be anal -- while she gave another man fellatio with a naked couple watching. Then to a sketch of numerous men and women in fellatio and anal sex with a naked man bound to a post.
The front door opened and a good-looking man in his mid-thirties entered.
"This is my friend and business partner, Alex," Tom said. "Alex, this is Brianna."
She recognized him instantly. His photo also had been in the dossier she'd read on the plane.
He smiled in delight as he gave her the once over. A gorgeous twenty-seven-year-old with round breasts, pouty lips, a toned body, and beach-blonde hair.
They shook hands.
He was tall and handsome and sexy with a buff body that couldn't be hidden with casual clothing.
"We're examining the drawings in Juliette," Tom said.
"Are you into BDMS?" Alex asked Brianna.
"I've done my share. What about you?"
"I'm a sadist, but I like to fuck. You?"
"I'll screw if the goods are high quality."
"Want to see?"
"Okay."
Alex proceeded to take off his polo shirt.
"Wait," she said. "In keeping with the Juliette theme, it should be an erotic striptease."
"I'll put on some stripper music," Tom said as he exited the terrace.
Moments later they heard 'Dot Com' by Usher.
Alex stood up, took off his shirt, swung it above his head, and then tossed it to Brianna, who carefully folded it and put it on the end table with the rest of the clothing that he threw to her.
Within a minute he was totally naked; 1.2 meters in height, 114 kilos of muscle, and very well hung.
"Now it's you're turn," he said collapsing into a wicker chair.
"That was lame," she said.
There was over four minutes left in the Usher song.
She rose from her seat and began to gyrate to the beat of the music. She flicked her right foot and then her left. One flipflop and then the other landed in his lap.
Standing in the middle of the terrace barefoot she grasped the bottom of her white coverup and slowly raised it to her hips and then to her breasts, before flinging it over her head. Her movements were timed to the music's tempo.
Swaying her hips in smooth circles she ran her hands over her toned body while maintaining eye contact with him. Her lips were gently parted.
Every so often, she looked up at the ceiling as she tousled her shoulder length hair from side to side. Her smile was sensuous and inviting.
Turning her back to him, she slowly undid the two ties of her halter top bikini. She dangled the piece of swimwear suggestively before lightly tossing it so that it landed at his feet.
Biting her lower lip, she spun around to give him a full view of her round firm 36-C breasts. Shimmying her hips and shaking her shoulders back and forth she inched her way closer to him. Always in time to the music.
His large penis was rising with excitement. She smiled, raised her eyebrows, and licked her upper lip. His cock jerked upwards in acknowledgement.
When she was close enough to sit in his lap, she learned forward, her erected nipples caressing his hairy chest, and whispered in his ear, "Do you mind untying my bikini bottom?"
She licked his earlobe, "With your teeth."
Grinning he put his hands behind his back, bent forward at the waist, took hold of one of the spaghetti strings with his teeth, and pulled.
As he did so, she pulled the other string and her bikini bottom fell to the floor as the music ended.
She could feel his breath on her pussy.
"Now that's how you do a striptease," she cooed.
He put his two hands on her buttock cheeks and dug his sharp nails into her tender flesh. She inhaled audibly when he shoved his index finger into her ass.
Many women would have slapped his face at such an unwarranted intrusion. Brianna rested her hands on his shoulders. Like the character Emmanuelle she used sex for her own purposes, including finding the Kimberly Red Diamond.
He licked her pussy lips and then stuck his tongue into her cunt.
She stared into middle space wondering how she could examine Tom's clothing for the diamond.
"I see you're already into the fun," said a naked Tom returning to the terrace.
He held his penis in his left hand. A line of white powder stretched along his dick. In his right hand was a straw.
