Palmer: Fashion Wee

Chapter 3 — TUESDAY — Jenn has her photoshoot

Tony Yamamura had hired the top of the range limousine specifically to impress the stunning looking blonde he'd just picked up at the Dubai International Airport.

For someone who'd just stepped off an eight hour flight, Bree Jensen looked remarkably fresh. In a tailored white jacket, matching short skirt and a pair of Michael Kors pumps, the Swedish beauty looked more like a model than one of the best-selling porn stars of all time.

But that's what she was. And Yamamura had a business proposition for her. That's why he'd invited her to Dubai, all expenses paid.

All the pieces were nicely slotting into place. Soon he would have outwitted Nikolay Volkov and although the Russian would be desperate for revenge, what could he do? The deal he had struck with Sheikh Amir bin Khalid would see Volkov expelled from the country, leaving the lucrative UAE markets to Yamamura.

"So, what is this all about, Tony?" Bree asked, settling back into her seat as he poured her a glass of champagne.

Her make-up was applied well but not overdone, and her glossy, platinum hair was half back and sophisticated. She fluffed it up as she looked at him, waiting for his answer.

"I think the two of us can help one another out," he said, handing her the glass of bubbly.

"How do you figure?"

"Some of your girls seem to be getting a lot of publicity these days..."

Bree rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her drink.

"It's no secret that adult performers sometimes turn tricks. All those girls work out of Vegas, so it's no crime. I'm not their keeper, but I'm also not going to apologize if some well-known, married sports star wants to get his kink out with them, either."

"Relax, Bree. I'm on your side," he said, with a comforting smile. "It's because of their extra-curricular activities that I'm interested."

"Is that so?"

Tony studied her as he touched his champagne flute against hers. She'd only entered the adult movie industry a couple of years ago and people were already comparing her to this generation's Jenna Jameson. He had seen her films and could only agree.

"So why don't you tell me more about your interest?" she asked, leaning back into the expensive leather seat.

Yamamura glanced along her long legs. They were crossed neatly in front of her, beneath the short black skirt. She uncrossed them as he watched, revealing a sliver of flesh above her black silk stockings.

"Let's just say I'm a long time admirer of women with your sort of talent," he told her, trying to pull his gaze back to her face. "And as it happens, I have a need for those sorts of skills."

The blonde threw her head back and laughed out loud.

"You have a way with words, Tony," she murmured, allowing the skirt to slip even further away. "You brought me to Dubai just to fuck me?"

Yamamura felt a reaction to her words. Or was it the bare flesh above the top of her black stockings that was making his cock lengthen? It was a shame he'd have to leave her as soon as they reached her hotel. He needed to talk to Jennifer Finney before her shoot.

"Not exactly," he confessed, subtly adjusting his position on the leather seat to ease the pressure inside his tailored trousers.

"Then what?" Bree asked, briefly returning his attention to the matter at hand. "Tell me exactly what you need and I'll see whether I can help?"

Yamamura nodded. The blonde bitch was every bit as sexy as he'd expected her to be, but it was important to conclude his business before he considered any other benefits.

"Straight talking suits me fine," he agreed, meeting her gaze again. "I'll shortly be concluding some business discussions that will enable me to establish my business interests across the Middle East. To begin with I'll need some extra help in, shall we say, servicing some of my potential clients around the region."

The blonde laughed heartily.

"Servicing your potential clients?" she murmured, dropping her hand onto his leg as she turned full on to face him. "Lordy-be, Tony, don't you know that those sorts of services come at a price? Are you sure you can afford what I have to offer?"

He snorted defiantly. "Money's not an issue."

A slow smile spread across Bree's full lips. For a moment she just stared at him, as if making sure they were on the same wavelength.

"I'm pleased to hear that, Tony," she whispered, moving closer.

Her sultry smile widened as her right hand moved along his thigh. It was an obvious manoeuvre but an effective one, too. His cock instantly reacted as her fingertips lightly stroked his crotch.

"So you didn't just invite me here to fuck me?" she asked, as she moved closer to him. "And I so enjoy fucking..."

Yamamura felt her breath on the side of his face as her fingers moved to the zip on his trousers. Her baby-blue eyes were staring at him provocatively, telling him that sex was her calling card and she knew how to use it. When she yanked the zipper downwards and sneaked her hand through the opening, he gasped.

"So, what exactly do you want, Tony?" her husky voice breathed in his ear.

"You, and up to a dozen of your friends, Bree," he croaked, trying to maintain his composure even though her fingernails were dragging across his boxer-covered stiffness. "All big names in your industry, women would be willing to fuck who I want, when I want and where I want..."

"That can be arranged," she whispered, as if he were simply asking her for dinner companions. Her hand freed his hard shaft from his trousers as she spoke. "That's dependant on the price we agree, of course. I'm sure a man like you understands that women in our particular vocation don't come cheap."

Yamamura snorted disdainfully.

"I told you that money's not a problem."

"And I told you I'm pleased to hear that, Tony," she smiled. Her breath caressed the side of his cheek as she closed her fingers around the base of his manhood. "In that case, it seems we have a deal."

Dipping her head without warning, she teasingly ran her tongue along his throbbing hardness before staring back up again.

"Would you like to agree the figures right now?" she softly asked, smiling seductively at him with those big baby-blue eyes. Her tongue flicked across his length again. "Or would you like a sneak preview of what's on offer?"

*

Michelle Park glanced at her watch. Her boyfriend would have made contact with Bree Jensen by now. That meant the final piece of their jigsaw would have fallen into place. She was looking forward to meeting the porn star blonde later, but before then she had a busy day in store.

Roxanne Lopez had a heavy day planned, too, starting with rehearsals for this afternoon's catwalk extravaganza. She'd arrived early so that she could make the most of her time, and was surprised to find another model in the dressing room when she returned from make-up.

"Roxie," Michelle Park said, allowing the name to roll off her tongue. "The two supermodels meet at last."

Her almond-shaped eyes ran up and down Roxanne's body as she spoke, as if she could see straight through the thin white robe.

Roxie smiled sweetly. Michelle Park may have been the winner of season two of Supermodel, but she had a long way to go before she could be considered to be in the supermodel category. The young woman was considered to be a bit of a diva, but Roxanne had long ago learned to make her own mind up when judging others.

"It's good to meet you, Michelle," she replied, keeping her voice neutral.

"And you," the Korean American woman responded, checking her out again. "So, you're the new addition to Nikky's stable? How did the initiation go?"

The blood instantly rushed to Roxanne's cheeks. No-one spoke of such things, ever. Although every girl was aware of Volkov's demands when he signed a new model, it was accepted as something that went with the territory. Careless talk could break relationships.

With Jack being so sensitive after their session with Jade, it was the last subject she wanted to discuss. Maybe Michelle's reputation for being catty with other models was well deserved, after all.

"Oh, silly me," the woman giggled, theatrically covering her mouth when Roxanne blushed. "That talk is taboo, isn't it? Anyway, you're back in the fold now. So you won't need to suck his cock again, not unless you really want to, of course."

Roxanne ignored the jibe and headed over to the rake of clothes. Okay, she'd given Michelle a chance. But now she knew the rumours were true.

"You're here with your boyfriend?" Michelle asked from behind her.

Roxanne felt herself tense. "Yes. Why?"

"Well, you know," the young model said, stepping infront of the rake and unbelting her robe. "We're all friends together here. I'd like to meet him. See if he's my type."

She let the robe drop to the floor, leaving Roxanne with a rear view of her nudity. Although she had an athletic rather than curvy frame, she was hot, that was for sure. She didn't have an ounce of fat, her round ass was firm and high, and her toned back swept up to meet her long dark hair.

"Does he like Asian girls like me?" Michelle asked, swinging around to face her.

It was difficult not to respond to the teasing, but Roxanne wisely kept her counsel. The young model was trying her hardest to evoke a reaction from her, so why give her that satisfaction?

"Or perhaps you do?" Michelle continued, resting one hand on her hip and posing unashamedly for the redhead.

Roxanne couldn't help but drop her gaze to those apple-sized tits and spectacularly high nipples. They were proud and erect and—well, yes—definitely suckable. A mischievous smile touched the edge of Michelle's lips when she caught her checking her out and Roxie cursed inwardly. The last thing she wanted was to send out any misleading signals.

"Have you ever fucked an Asian girl?"

The question sent another flood of colour to Roxie's cheeks. She'd once had a nuru massage from two older Asian women in a high-end London Health club. Even for someone as experienced as she was, it had been an amazing couple of hours.

"I'm very happy with Jack, thanks," she countered, turning away from the naked sight infront of her.

"You should try it," Michelle told her, sauntering close behind and breathing on the back of her neck. "Fucking is an art in Korea, you know, especially between two women. And I've been well trained..."

"I have no doubt," Roxie said, glancing at the young model over her shoulder. "But as I said, I'm very happy with Jack."

"He doesn't have to know," Michelle whispered in her ear. "I have a photo shoot this afternoon. That always gets me hot to trot, if you know what I mean. I could use a little help."

Roxie stepped away from the Korean American temptress and took a seat in her designated chair at the dressing table. The young model was trouble and she wasn't going to have anything to do with her.

"Of course, there are other ways of taking the edge off," the young model went on, moving to the dressing table next to Roxanne's.

She opened the top draw and pulled out a pink baggy, spilling some of the powdery contents out onto the top of the table. Using a card to carve two rows, she then rolled a bill and did a line. Sniffing sharply, she rubbed her nose and offered Roxie the bill.

"Shit, this is good stuff," she murmured, licking her lips. "You've got to try it."

Roxanne shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

"Why not?" Michelle petulantly asked. "I know you're not a coke virgin..."

"What I am, and what I'm not, is my business only," Roxie emphatically told her, giving the naked model a dismissive look. "Thanks for the offer, but if you excuse me I have to get ready for the rehearsals. Good luck with the shoot."

*

Jack Palmer had spent most of the morning sightseeing. He'd left Roxie to her rehearsals and decided to use the time to check out Dubai. He'd get back in time for the late afternoon show, and in the meantime he needed the opportunity to think things through.

Built right out of the desert, the city was like a mirage. Only instead of being sustained on heat and imagination, everything was expensive and it needed money to stay afloat. With the world economies wilting in the global recession, the place was in danger of disappearing as quickly as the illusions. But corruption thrived where there was a need for money. And where there was corruption, there were pretty women. They were everywhere Palmer looked.

The rawness from his threesome with Roxie and Jade was beginning to heal, even if the encounter remained at the forefront of his mind. But Roxie had given him the explanation he needed and, even if she had been misguided, he was trying to put the encounter him.

It was his telephone conversation with Sandra Wilson that was now troubling him most. If he'd learned anything in his years as a detective in the London Met's Vice Division, it was that there was no smoke without fire. Volkov was using his modelling agency as a cover for other illegal activities. There was no other realistic explanation.

That meant Roxie was in danger.

So why hadn't he told her about his and Sandra Wilson's telephone conversation? First, he didn't want to alarm her. Nor did he want her to doubt his sincerity. He'd told himself that he needed more facts to go on before he could share his suspicions with Roxie.

That required a meeting with the undercover cop, Jennifer Finney. He had no option other than to wait until she contacted him, but he'd listen carefully to everything she had to say when she did. Sandra Wilson had asked him to do nothing more than 'babysit' her, but he was prepared to get involved if necessary.

Roxie's welfare was the only thing he cared about.

*

Jennifer Finney was becoming more and more nervous as time ticked by, so much so that she had to stop herself from chewing her polished nails. Her make-up artist would blow a gasket if she screwed up the white tips of her French manicure, especially after he'd done such a wonderful job.

Roy's tone, outrageous fashion sense and mannerisms suggested he was gay, but she'd quickly discovered he was a genius at hairdressing and make-up.

"What do you think, sweetheart?" he asked, turning her chair to the mirror when he'd finished styling her short dark hair.

Jenn gave a surprised gasp of approval as she stared at her reflection. He'd transformed her appearance completely. Was it really possible that someone like her, a girl next-door type from a little English village, could look this glamorous?

"I love it," she beamed at him, happily teasing her silken hair in her hand. "You're a genius, Roy."

"So true," he chuckled, loving her enthusiasm.

And then he was back to his task, his fingers working her face like an artist worked a painting. The way he applied the make-up carefully and then brushed away the few blemishes she had was amazing.

When he'd finished, he let her see herself again.

"Da-dah!" he playfully exclaimed.

Her eye-liner was black and much thicker than normal, framing her beautiful brown eyes in an almost feline way. But it was her mouth that stood out. Naturally enough considering the purpose of the shoot, she realised. He'd paid particular attention to her full lips, using the Clinique lipstick line to 'volumize' them.

The result was incredible.

"I love it," she gleefully told him, testing the effect by giving a provocative pout into the mirror. "Perfect,"

"Perfect, indeed," came a voice from the door.

It belonged to Tony Yamamura and his sudden appearance precipitated an immediate return of her nerves. She'd carried out some small-time modelling jobs before—Sandra Wilson wouldn't have given her this assignment otherwise—but nothing in this league.

The Met had even put her through her paces with a crash course in modelling before she'd left England. But this was different. This was a photoshoot. Could she pass the test?

She had to, for the sake of the assignment, herself and for her career.

Her husband hadn't wanted her to join the police force and the ensuing arguments after she'd enrolled had been never-ending. She didn't have any regrets about leaving him, though it had been a difficult decision at the time, and she had purposefully avoided contact between them since. He could be violent when he was angry.

Divorce papers had been signed through the post and after that, it just was easier to put him out of her mind and concentrate on her career. The problem was that she'd never quite fulfilled her potential.

This case was the opportunity she'd never thought would come.

"You look wonderful, Jenn," the Japanese man told her, stepping just inside the room. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," she told him, taking a deep breath.

It was only a half-lie. She had been feeling good until he'd arrived. What girl wouldn't under Roy's tender ministrations? But now that he had left the room—leaving her and Yamamura by themselves—all of her self-doubts were returning.

"You're ready for me now?" she nervously asked.

"Almost," he told her, resting his frame against the door behind him. "I need to go over a couple of things before the shoot."

He took a couple of steps into the room and smiled reassuringly as he flopped down in the chair next to hers.

"The other model will adopt the more senior role in the shoot. What I want from you is to follow her lead. That natural, innocent look is perfect. So let Michelle introduce you to our world, and everything will be fine. Think you can do that, Jenn?"

"Of course," she replied, more cheerily than she felt.

Please God, let everything be fine...

"Even if something seems way out there, I want you to go with it. Without question. The camera captures any hesitation. Remember that."

"Sure."

She nodded eagerly. That was something, at least. Having a more experienced model to work with was a Godsend. Her brain had frozen up, but she was prepared to do whatever was asked of her.

*

Nikolay Volkov sat next to his host in Sheikh Amir bin Khalid's luxurious private residence that lay in the heart of the city. Outside of the large windows, despite the time of day, flood lights illuminated the vibrant, green lawns of cut grass—unheard of in this arid climate.

Inside the room, sumptuous, woven textiles and luxurious pillows spun of purple silk and lined with gold thread—like those the two men were lounging on—were spread out haphazardly, emphasising the wealth of this unique palace.

The Sheikh had called to meeting to discuss some of the 'finer points' of the contract already agreed between them. That could only mean one thing. He wanted to renegotiate. And yet, until a few days ago, he had been content to follow the Russian's lead throughout their negotiations.

His sudden change in attitude had switched on Volkov's antennae, and that in turn had led the multi-millionaire to look more closely at Tony Yamamura's activities. The conclusion had been as obvious as it was a huge disappointment. He had rewarded Yamamura with all the trappings of success only to find that his Japanese lieutenant was attempting to usurp him. His visit to see the Sheikh confirmed his suspicions, although neither man would refer to Tony Yamamura specifically.

The trick was to read between the lines.

In a normal world, such a business meeting would usually have involved their advisers and perhaps their legal teams. In bin Khalid's universe, such normality didn't exist. The three attractive women that lay around the room in a partial state of undress were neither solicitors nor accountants. They were concubines.

Heavy-lidded, Nikolay Volkov glanced across the room towards the doe-eyed beauty curled on a sofa. Her gold robe hung loosely from her slender body and a mocha-coloured nipple peaked out, just at the edge. One hand had drifted between her legs as she lazily surveyed the two women spread out on a divan opposite her.