It was only when Jordan stepped off the plane into the balmy warmth of the early morning sunshine at the Cote D'Azure Airport in Nice that the reality finally hit her. She was in the south of France and about to embark on a crazy adventure of fun and utter indulgence.
It had all started as a bet; a silly wager that had happened in a flirty and competitive moment. Never in a million years had Jordan ever expected that either of them would actually be required to honor it. But she should have known better. In the months since she had met Steve, it had become abundantly evident that for all his easy going and laid back approach, he usually did exactly what he said he would, no matter how outrageous it may have seemed.
But this was bizarre Jordan thought for the hundredth time as she scanned the faces of the people in the Arrivals Lounge. Steve's business obligations had required him to leave a few days earlier but he had said he would be at the airport to fetch her. The place bustled with excited people and she waved with relief when she saw him in the distance. He was easy to spot. Being tall he towered at least a head and shoulders over the others as he made his way towards her.
Watching him approach, her mind drifted back to the wager and the reason why she found herself in this almost surreal situation. Steve's bet, made earlier in the year, had been simple. It was that the former long-standing world champion of Formula One racing would be in the lead on points for the current championship by the time the Monte Carlo race rolled around. If he wasn't, then Steve would take her to Monaco for the race.
Jordan recalled reading somewhere that the outspoken Katharine Hepburn had once called Monaco "a pimple on the chin of the south of France." She wasn't referring to the principality's lack of beauty, but rather to the preposterous idea of having a little country taking up some of the choicest coastline along the Riviera. Monaco was the playground of the obscenely rich and bored who were free to flaunt their wealth, diamonds, designer clothes and Ferraris. It really was all about showing off and not exactly the kind of place you just stopped over for a casual weekend. There was little doubt that the bet was insane and outrageously expensive.
When Jordan had pointed that out to Steve, giving him the opportunity to renege, he had fixed his gray eyes on her, shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Yeah but its only money and we'll get a chance to see how the other half splurge it. Besides, my boy is going to beat yours and get back into the lead." He paused and smiled, "And that way I get you to keep your side of the bet as well."
Jordan laughed at the memory of the conversation. Had she lost the bet she would have had to have public sex with Steve at a location of his choice. She wondered wryly if Monaco might not have been his first choice anyway. As a keen racer himself and fan of Formula One together with a love of risky public sex, there was no better place on earth to indulge his fantasies.
If she was honest, she would have admitted that while she was more than thrilled that the former champion was lagging behind the new prince of the track, she had mixed feelings about how this bet had turned out.
It wasn't that she and Steve weren't attracted to each other because they were. The chemistry between them was electric even though they had resisted falling into bed together. A situation she knew would forever be changed by this weekend. But it was more than that. It was the edgy danger that she associated with Steve and which she found undeniably exciting that concerned her. There was something about him that made her a little crazy.
She liked to believe that she was the queen of cool. Self control was her middle name and yet when she stepped onto the plane headed for the playground of the rich and reckless to be with Steve she knew instinctively that her self control was gone. The time ahead would be an excuse to allow herself to let go and to revel in wild abandonment. Her stomach muscles fluttered with a ripple of excitement and longing.
***
Steve's steady gaze brushed over Jordan's thighs appreciatively as her flimsy skirt hiked over them when she got into the low slung sports car that gleamed in the bright sunlight.
"Nice car," she commented as he settled himself into the seat next to hers and hit a button to open the sunroof. "It seems the rental cars are a little different here; nothing simple like a Ford or a Toyota?"
Steve laughed, "Well maybe there are, but my philosophy is when in Rome do as the Romans do. If there's any place to drive a fancy car, it's here." He paused, "But in a world full of Ferraris, Porsches, Rolls Royce and Lamborghinis this baby is pretty tame."
"Hardly," Jordan laughed as she felt the first powerful roar of the engine. "Is it a long drive to Monaco?"
"About 20 kilometers, but how long, depends on the traffic."
"You think you'll get to open this baby up and race her?" Jordan asked, her green eyes glittering with excitement.
"Why, you in a hurry to get there?"
"No," she murmured, getting her first glimpse of the Mediterranean's turquoise water as the road carved its way along the rugged coastline. "But, let's just say, speed does it for me."
Steve arched his eyebrows. He loved speed himself. He knew what an aphrodisiac it was, but if he really had to admit it, he'd have to say that at some level when racing his car or bike, it was the most amazing challenge; a feeling of mastery and power mixed with pure dread. At full throttle on the track there was almost the feeling of being omnipotent, god-like and untouchable laced with an arrogance that made him believe that that death or injury was beneath him and utterly impossible.
He grimaced as he shifted in his seat; a recently healed rib was still a tender reminder of his last dice on the track and testimony to the fact that injury was very much alive and possible for anyone who pushed the limits. Not that it would ever alter his love of extreme sports though.
"Does speed turn you on?" he asked glancing at Jordan.
The question hung in the air for a second as he accelerated sharply along the twisty road.
Jordan shifted in her seat while she gazed at the breathtaking landscape. The postcard views of quaint little villages nestling against the sparkling backdrop of the Mediterranean and the lavish estates that were perched high in isolation on rocky escarpments made her wish that she had the talent to paint. The scenery was truly spectacular and evidence that there were some things that humans simply couldn't mess up. She considered Steve's question and decided to answer him honestly.
"Yeah, it does."
"Good," he said smiling. "Feel free to enjoy your arousal as much as you like." He stretched his arm along the back of the bucket seat and rested his hand in the silky mane of hair at the nape of her neck.
Jordan closed her eyes to savor the speed of the car and the scent of his closeness which seemed to permeate her senses. As his long fingers worked gently beneath the fall of her rich auburn hair she was aware of several thrilling sensations at once. His palm was curved into the space between her shoulder blades and his fingers caressed her bare skin with a steady, tender stroke.
Steve's words and the intimacy of his touch began to work on her imagination, triggering deep sensual flashes. Despite the air circulating around her she grew as warm and flushed as if she were being undressed and fondled by a thorough and expert lover. Steve was seducing her mind with his careless touch, making her imagine his tantalizing light stroke all over her body.
