"I think I shall take you to lunch to buy that drink I offered"
Not knowing how to repond to such a direct instruction from a man she hardly knew, she decided to stall for time and swung her legs into the car. Or at least she would have done had he not deftly stood on the toe of one shoe. The effect was humiliating for Inge. One leg travelled as intended into the footwell of the car. The other remained pinned to the pavement, splaying her legs, causing her dress to ride up her thighs, and giving any passers-by an uninterrupted view of her stocking tops and Janet Reger camiknickers. If she expected him to take advantage of the situation she was disappointed. His eyes never left hers. Over his shoulder, she could see a couple of youths nudging each other at the show she was being forced to put on. She felt the colour rise to her cheeks as one of the boys made wanking gestures to his mate. Still Paul's eyes never left hers.
"... be there at twelve thirty. I may be late, but wait....."
She snapped out of her reverie as she felt his foot innocuously slide off hers, releasing her leg to swiftly join it's partner. Looking down, she read the card he had put in her hand. She knew the Cafe Parisienne. She would not be late.
========================= THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!..... The bass drummed through his head, the flashing lights drilling into his eyeballs.
"This is definitely not my scene, must be getting old," he mused. In truth, Dan Hegarty was in his element. He had always been a party animal and exuded the natural aura of someone used to scoring in such an environment. He leaned casually against the door frame, his eyes scanning the room with apparent boredom. He caught the eye of several winsome and interested women before finally spotting his target. Claire Brady was small but, in the words of a similarly vertically challenged well known comedian, perfectly formed. She sported a short bob of bright auburn hair, streaked with dark red which, coupled with her small pointed features gave her an attractive pixie-like appearance. He knew from her file that she was married, but the absence of a wedding ring suggested that wouldn't be an issue. For a brief second their eyes met across the floor. He smiled, holding eye contact until he forced her to avert her gaze, noting with satisfaction the small smile she allowed herself as she turned away. Now it was just a matter of time.
Two hours later, she allowed herself to be led by the hand into an upstairs bedroom.
She loved parties. The music, drink, sometimes other substances, all heightened her anticipation for her real turn-on - Sex. She had married too early in life,at 19. Fortunately she had chosen well. Her husband, Rick, was more interested in his Rugby and Golf pals, but was comfortably well-off. His small inheritance removed any fear that he, or she, would ever need money but she needed her own life. As Ricks interests focussed more on the lads, she found herself doing more of the girlie things with her own mates, clubbing, parties, getting drunk, gambling and eventually, screwing around. A chance encounter with an alcoholic businessman led to her biggest gamble, buying out his small catering company. Although providing the funds, Rick could never understand her need to have purpose in her life. He was a misogynistic bastard at heart. Sure, her business was struggling, but the time to worry about that was tomorrow. Tonight she had other priorities.
As the door closed behind them, he took her in his arms and kissed her. She could feel his surprise as she mashed her lips against his, and ran her hand across the front of his trousers in response. He lifted her by the waist, raising her off the floor. Turning around, he carried her over to the bed and lowered her, none too gently onto it. They both smiled at each other as he slowly removed his shirt and unbuckled his belt. His trousers fell to the floor, leaving him standing in a pair of boxers, every inch the conquering male. He flipped her legs up, grasped her tiny knickers and pulled them off. If the speed of their removal surprised her, it was nothing to the shock of his next action. He swiftly knelt down, thrust his face between her stocking tops, and coverd her already damp sex with his mouth. The sensation was fantastic. Immediately his tongue began to tease her clitoris, and the suction created by his mouth forced her to juice up more than she ever thought possible. A long moan burst from her throat as she pushed her hips at his thrusting tongue.
He stood up, gave her no time to recover, pulled her down the bed until her legs, splayed, hung off the end on either side of him, lowered himself on to her and thrust deep into her cunt.
"OOphh Give it to me, give it to me...."
She couldn't think of anything else to say. He began to pound in to her, the end of his huge dick bumping against her cervix, until first one, then a second climax coursed through her jerking torso. She bit her lip to stifle her cry of delight, drawing blood as her teeth sank into her engorged lower lip. Her long moan of pleasure slowly turned into panting gratitude as he brought her to a shuddering finish.
"God", she thought to herself, "I just love this!"
==========================
Vanessa Draper was nervous. She was a beautiful girl. Short, dark, small delicate features set off by a pair of the largest dark blue eyes you have ever seen. She was the sort of girl who could stop traffic. She didn't ought to be nervous, but she was.
Three years ago, she would have expected to be nervous. Then she was straight out of drama school, one of hundreds of budding starlets looking for her big break. It had come in the most unexpected fashion. She had been invited to join the audience in a television pop music show by a friend and had been spotted by a scout looking for new talent. An audition, an interview, and she landed a small part in a new soap opera "City Slickers" centred on the City of London, or "the square mile" as it was known. The lure of the wheeling and dealing in the world's greatest financial centre proved irresistable, and the soap took off big time. At the same time, Vanessa proved not only to be the most beautiful actress in the cast, but also to have that indefineable quality that makes the camera love you. Her role grew. Vanessa was the Soap Star of the moment.
Still, she was nervous. When Inge had told her about the interview, she had been pretty blase about it. Now, as she sat outside the hotel room waiting to meet them, it was a different matter. The door opened and one of the most recognisable faces in Hollywood appeared.
"Miss Draper? we can see you now".
==========================
Twelve-thirty he had said. It was now One-thirty. Much as she wanted to see him, she had a meeting at two. Taking a last look around, and seeing no Mr Hegarty, she gathered her bag, paid the bill for the coffee she had been nursing, stood up, and made her way to the door.
Across the street, Paul Hegarty noted her leaving with quiet amusement. He had spent the last hour leaning on the corner waiting to test her commitment. It was time to turn the screw. He pushed off the wall and strode purposefully across the street, every inch a committed host late for a lunch date. He arrived a split second after she had closed the door behind her, and set off back to the office, stuffing the receipt in her small bag. She looked up just as they collided.
"Oh! It's you. I thought you had forgotten. I was just on my way back to the office."
He smiled at her with condescention all over his face.
"I told you I might be late. I also told you to wait didn't I."
"Yes, you did."
"In that case it only seems right that you be punished. Meet me here again tomorrow. Same time. Don't be late, oh!, he paused, make sure you leave your underwear in the office or you will never get your drink."
Her mouth opened in astonishment, but he turned and was gone, leaving her looking like a fish out of water, her mouth opening and closing, but no words of indignation coming out.
==========================
"Left a bit, a bit more, just a tad, that's it. Great!"
Mike Levine was getting good at this. He was a brilliant photographer who had carved a serious career for himself in the glamour and Porn market. Mark Harrison, head of security at GDS had recruited him early on, and now, here he was exercising his not inconsiderable skills on a new venture.
The house was a mansion. It had fourteen suites, several bedrooms, pool, Sauna, steam room, Snooker room, and a small cinema/theatre. Now, with the positioning of the final camera, all but two of the rooms were fully wired for film and sound. No-one but Mark, Mike himself, and Napoleon (Boney to his friends) Wiltshire, his trusty helper and stud, knew the location of the cameras, and it was going to stay that way.
The mansion, deep in the Sussex countryside was owned by a wealthy Arab on behalf of GDS, but he had never been there. Officially, the house was leased to Hugo Challenor, famously wild man of the acting profession, who used the house simply as a location for one long round of parties for the rich and famous. In reality it was a GDS honey trap with Challenor the front man, Mark Harrison's creation for scandal generation.
