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 ï>¿Joanie Goes to Europe byJBEdwardsÂ(C)

   At the end of my sophomore year I was 20, and I was still balancing the
two loves of my life, Mike and Philip.  Mike was 21 and finishing his
junior year at the same college, and Philip was 28 and still doing private
banking in New York City.  Mike and Philip were cousins, and I had met
Philip through Mike.  They both knew about my love for the other. 

   Mike seemed not to care; he was a serial philanderer by nature, and he
seemed to want me to be promiscuous, too.  He was also the one who pushed
me, and pushed hard, to be an exhibitionist, something he had great success
at doing.  Mike had even initially coached his own cousins (the twins, and
then Philip) on how to seduce me.  His success rate was perfect.

   Philip was easier to describe: he was quite simply a banker.  But he
also seemed to enjoy degrading and humiliating women, especially those he
cared for, such as me.  As such he thoroughly enjoyed and enabled my
exhibitionist tendencies. 

   Honestly, I do not understand why Mike and Philip were both like that,
and it is even more a puzzle to me as to why I was drawn to them and even
loved them both.  But to be honest, while I appreciated Mike's joyful
acceptance of my promiscuity, I did not want to be that way, and I further
did not enjoy at all, even the slightest, Mike's own rampant promiscuity. I
got jealous. 

   I also thought it was entirely reasonable to be jealous when he would
sleep with other women, sometimes even right under my nose as if to flaunt
it, such as his time with Gloria.  So when it came time for summer plans
once sophomore year ended, and I learned Mike was going to travel around
Europe (his family is rich) and explore how girls in different countries of
Europe differed in bed, and I was not included in these plans of course, I
was angry. 

   When I say I was angry, it is a bit of an understatement.  I was
furious. I went home to the small town in the county where I grew up, and
joined my parents and my little sister Sarah who had just finished her
freshman year at college.  Sarah had set new records for being the school
slut, as she kept me apprised blow-by-blow as she gave out sexual favors
right and left.  She was also now an accomplished exhibitionist, at least
in part due to me.  I had long ago given up being scandalized by her
behavior.  After all, who was I to talk?

   Sarah always wrote sexual details to me in letters, sent via the good
old postal service.  She had learned from me that digital security was an
illusion and anything that she did not potentially want the entire world to
know, had no place in the world of digital communication.  This was the
aspect of her behavior of which I was proud. 

   Maybe it was some kind of physical law of the conservation of
exhibitionist behavior within a family, but as Sarah became more and more
active as an exhibitionist, I became less and less so, and had once again
given up drinking.  Well, mostly.  I still drank when Philip would fly me
out to NY for weekends of fun with him, which he did with some regularity.
There I freely sinned and had a great time with Philip, including great
sex, with every single visit. 

   But now I was trapped at home in a small town at my parents' house,
where I felt it was open season on Sarah and me, and all the boys were
after us for the obvious reasons.  Sarah wallowed in it, but I was not a
happy camper. 

   Two weeks after coming home, after I had landed a summer job updating
the computers and servers at the local high school, I got an urgent message
from Philip.  A special messenger delivered it in person.  It said, in
toto, "Joanie, do you have a passport?  If not get one right away.  Pay
extra for expedited service.  We're going to France and Switzerland.  First
come to NY to buy a travel wardrobe.  Tickets are waiting."

   Of course I did not have a passport.  The only exotic place I had ever
been to was New York, and that was due to Philip himself.  So I went on the
Internet to see how to get one, jumped through all the hoops, paid extra
for expedited service, and two weeks later I was on a plane to New York
with my passport in hand. 

   I had to resign my summer job at the high school; I had done the full
summer's work in only two weeks, anyway, since there was nothing to
distract me.  The school staff was amazed.  They had no idea who they were
dealing with.

   As usual, a limousine driver met me at the airport, and he drove me to
the same elegant hotel Philip always used.  I was given a room on the 15th
floor facing a skyscraper, perfect for exhibitionists.  I love New York.  I
was also given an envelope containing Philip's Saks Fifth Avenue charge
card with detailed instructions regarding the clothes I would need. 

   Inside the envelope I also found a gold American Express card in my own
name, and a post-it note said the bills would go to Philip.  I was
instructed to buy some things that Saks does not sell, apparently.  This
was going to be fun.  Turning a girl loose in New York, telling her to shop
for expensive clothes and jewelry, and giving her charge accounts is a very
nice benefit of dating a banker, I must say. 

   I went to Saks and had a nice reunion with Jane, my saleswoman at the
Marni counter who had once sold me a totally gorgeous and extremely sexy
evening gown.  I wore it the time I met Philip's boss, and was forced to
fuck him, so that Philip could get a promotion.  We had a lot of fun
together buying my new wardrobe, to say the least.  This time I visited the
Cartier boutique and did some serious damage to Philip's bank account, I'm
sure.  Hey, I'm a girl who follows instructions. 

   I got this solid gold bracelet that was shaped as if it were a curved
nail.  It reminded me of the story of the golden spike hammered into the
last railroad tie connecting the two coasts, when the trains first became
transcontinental.  I was wearing a gorgeous and ridiculously expensive
spoof of American history on my wrist.

   More realistically, though, I guess it was supposed to suggest
sadomasochism in some sort of subtle and expensive way for the
entertainment of the decadent rich.  Perfect.

   Jane also told me where to get super fancy luggage for the trip, and
where to buy a nice watch.  She sent me to Tourneau, and I got a
"pre-owned" fancy Swiss watch with not too many (I was supposed to buy
things in good taste), but just the right amount of diamonds.  Even being
pre-owned, it cost a fortune. 

   I got the watch in white gold instead of yellow gold, so as not to be
too, too flashy.  I also visited some jewelry stores on Madison Avenue.  I
discovered I had a weakness for rose gold.  Who knew?  I bought a new purse
in Barney's and while there some new perfume, too.

   I of course got more shoes, and more stockings.  Don't forget I am a
woman.

   When Philip came to pick me up to go out to dinner that evening, I was
done shopping and eager to wear one of my new outfits for him, which of
course I did.  I looked great and also (modesty aside) I looked hot. 

   To my surprise he had his colleague Steve with him, and Steve actually
now had a girlfriend; he no longer had to pass off his sister as his
girlfriend.  His girlfriend is very pretty, but not as pretty as his sister
is, but then I am not sure anyone is.  Steve's sister is amazingly
beautiful, and pretty in a sexy way, too.  But the new girlfriend has the
huge added advantage of not being his sister!  Her name is Odessa. 

   "I hope you do not mind this is a surprise double date?" Philip said.  I
smiled.  He continued, "Odessa and Steve are coming with us for the
business part of our European trip."

   I should have known it was for business.  With bankers it seems
everything, all the time, is business.  Even after a year of dating I still
sometimes wonder if Philip loves me, or if I am just a needed part of his
outfit as a successful banker, like a Hermes tie.  It is not a reassuring
feeling.  I think my lingering insecurities about why Philip likes me
explain why I still cling to Mike as a boyfriend, even if I think he is a
skunk. 

   We all four got into a waiting limo and went to an incredibly fancy and
wonderful restaurant downtown, I think near Greenwich Village, but I still
have trouble knowing just where I am in New York.  It was of course
wonderful, and yes, I drank the cocktail, had a second one, and had too
much wine.  I reached or perhaps exceeded my limit and so declined the
cognacs the men had after the meal.

   I spoke to Odessa and we became fast friends.  She was of Russian
ancestry (which explained her name), but she was born and raised in Kansas.
She had come to NY for work opportunities, and she had met Steve online,
and they had been dating for a year.  She already knew all about me,
apparently Steve thought I walked on water and told her (without any
details) that I had once helped his sister Mary Ann tremendously when she
was in an awkward situation.  I'll say it was awkward: she had been tricked
into having to fuck her brother's boss and then to let her own brother fuck
her, with his boss watching and drooling. 

   But I did not tell Odessa any of that, of course, but just nodded and
smiled, and changed the subject.  She had a much better idea of what the
trip was about, and explained some details to me.  Now I understood better
why I needed the clothes I had just bought. 

   Odessa was taller than I am; most people are.  I guess she was maybe
5'6" or perhaps 5'7".  I am 5'4".  She had a perfect figure, a round face,
and lovely blonde hair, with large brown eyes.  Her nose was a bit narrow
and thin, but the whole effect was of a very pretty woman. 

   After dinner we went to go dancing and drinking.  I danced with both
Steve and Philip since both asked me to dance at different times during the
evening, but Odessa danced only with Steve.  Philip placed his hands on my
ass and caressed my ass as we danced, but I noticed Steve was the proper
gentleman dancing with Odessa.  Nothing was too risquÃ(C) and I was happy
about that.

   In the limo going back to the hotel, Philip began to act like his old
self, unbuttoning a few buttons of my blouse, exposing quite a lot of boob.
My bra covered minimal amounts of boob, so there was quite a lot of boob
now on display, especially whenever I leaned forward.  At the same time
Steve was similarly exposing Odessa's breasts as much as her bra allowed.

   I was a bit surprised when Steve and Odessa joined us at the hotel bar.
Odessa lived in NY and could not possibly be staying at the hotel.  Odessa
and I got a lot of looks from the other men at the bar, since our boobs
were on display to a large extent.  They were almost drooling over us. 

   I was sitting between Philip and Steve, all of us on high stools.  Steve
was fondling my boobs and Philip had his hand up my dress inching its way
up my thigh.  I thought it was strange that Steve was feeling me up and not
his girl friend.  I looked over at Odessa and she was watching the action
intently and squirming a bit, breathing a bit unevenly.  I got up just as
Philip's hand reached my panties covered cunt. 

   I was again surprised when the three of them walked me to my room.  I
was disappointed, too, as I was primed for some nice sex in the window with
Philip.

   Not knowing what to do, I invited them all into the room, and offered
them all nightcaps from the mini bar.  They all happily accepted, and
Philip called room service for some after dinner treats to go with the
drinks.  He ordered a Brandy Alexander for me, one of my favorites after
dinner cocktails. 

   Steve produced some rope and a blindfold from his pockets, and proceeded
to undress Odessa and tie her up.  She was naked, tied to a chair.  I was
flabbergasted and left speechless.  I just stared.

   Steve had arranged the chair so that it was facing the window and thus
Odessa was on display, tied up in front of the window.  Her legs were
apart, giving us a nice view of her private area.

   Nobody had spoken yet.  The room service arrived, and the waiter saw the
naked back of Odessa, tied up in the chair.  He could also see the
reflection of her naked front via its reflection from the window.  But I
guess he had already seen everything, so he acted as if he barely
noticed. 

   When Philip offered me one of the nice treats room service had brought,
I looked at him quizzically, but he just smiled.  So I decided to go with
the flow, and I smiled too.  Philip then undressed me, and led me naked to
the window, in front of Odessa. 

   Philip stripped, and so too did Steve.  Steve pulled the ropes tight
around Odessa.  Too tight I should think, as her skin was already red where
the ropes constrained her.  The men both sported nice erections.  Steve put
the blindfold on me.  This was getting very strange, very fast, to say the
least. 

   Nobody had spoken.  I was now standing in the window, Odessa was looking
at me while she was tied up in the chair, and I was naked and blindfolded.
Four hands began to grope me all over, ending of course with my boobs and
my cunt.  Fingers were going in and out of me, I was being kissed on the
back of my neck and a finger was probing my ass.

   I began to moan.  To my surprise, I heard an echo.  It was Odessa
moaning, too, it had to be.  Someone lay me down and spread my legs.  A
nice warm and hard penis entered me and began to fuck me, hard.  Odessa
moaned, "Oh my god," and she was breathing heavily. 

   The penis pulled out and a different one entered me.  Well, variety is
the spice of life, I guess.  This was the first time Steve's cock had been
inside me, I realized.  I did not know if Steve's had been cock #1 or was
cock #2, but it had to be one or the other. 

   Philip or Steve's cock pulled out of me after around 5 minutes, and I
was turned over onto my stomach.  Someone slapped my ass, hard.  The slap
stung.  It was repeated, over and over, and it began to seriously hurt, but
amazingly I found it erotic.  I was aroused beyond belief.  The blows to my
ass seemed as if they were sending electric currents directly to my
clitoris. 

   Odessa was moaning loudly and as the slaps continued she began to
scream, "Stop!  It hurts too much!  But it feels so good.  But it hurts!"
She seemed to be channeling my feelings.  It did in fact hurt too much.  It
did in fact feel good.  My ass was really sore at this point. 

   I had no idea what they were doing to Odessa, but then everything
stopped.  I was rolled over onto my back, and someone went down on me,
eating me out.  No one had cum in me or even on me, so I was not at all
sloppy, just super turned on.  I reached out to fondle whoever was eating
me out and my hand found a boob. 

   I reached up and removed the blindfold.  Odessa had been untied and now
was now giving me fabulous head.  I closed my eyes and enjoyed it.

   Then we all reverted to good old-fashioned fucking, Philip on top of me,
and Steve on top of Odessa.  That was nice.  After a good long time Philip
exploded inside me; I had already cum before him.  I lay there happily.  I
saw that Odessa and Steve had finished too. 

   I never asked what was the kink that was going on.  I figured if they
wanted me to know, they would tell me at some point.  Restraining my
curiosity, knowing it would be satisfied eventually, or not, was something
that endeared me to Philip, I strongly suspected. 

   I did enjoy fucking with an audience of Steve and Odessa, as well as the
anonymous voyeurs who were watching us from the higher floor of the
skyscraper facing the windows of my room.  I was not sure I liked the
blindfold aspect; I'm the type of girl who wants to know exactly who it is
who is ravishing her. 

   Steve and Odessa left, and Philip spent the night, fucking me again
quietly and lovingly.  He never mentioned the spanking or what that was
about, nor even asked if I had liked it.  And we never discussed the
restraints on Odessa and her experiencing vicariously, as though it were
real, what was happening to me. 

   OK, so Odessa was weird.  She also seemed to be a nice person.  I looked
forward to getting to know her.  Who was I, myself as strange as they come,
to judge Odessa?  That was not going to happen. 

   Actually I came to think it was nice of Steve and Philip to try so hard
to please her, although I did in fact think they could have given me a
heads up first!  Maybe surprising me was part of the kink for her?  Maybe
it was the kink for me (in fact it had worked, I have to admit)?  I had too
many questions. 

   The very next night was our flight to Paris!  To say I was excited would
be a gross understatement.  French was my fourth best subject in high
school, after computer science, math, and English, but I was pretty good. I
could not remember if Philip knew about my French skills.  Anyway, I knew a
lot about Paris and French culture as well as the language, but of course
it was all book learning. 

   We travelled business class, and the chairs reclined almost to flat.  I
had the window, and Philip was next to me on the aisle.  We were served as
much booze as we wanted, which was a sizable amount, had a nice meal
(airplanes are limited as to just how good their food can be) and then the
lights went out and we were expected to go to sleep. 

   Philip whispered to me he had never fucked on an airplane.  I looked at
him with incredulity.  "Are you nuts?" I said, diplomatically. 

   He reached over and began to unbutton my blouse.  I looked around
nervously.  The other passengers, except for Steve and Odessa, all had
blindfolds on, and the flight attendants were leaving us alone to sleep. 
While I determined that, Philip had already removed my blouse and bra.  I
sat up and looked over at Odessa and she was already naked.  Steve works
fast!  Odessa was blatantly naked; she was not even trying to be
discrete. 

   Well, I was not in her league, and I found myself being shy.  But no
matter, despite my repeated protests Philip was insistent and soon I too
was naked.  To my credit, it did take him quite a while to render me naked.
Philip unzipped and started to mount me.  "I'm not ready for that," I
whispered.  "I'm too freaked out.  I'm not wet yet."

   To my surprise, Philip ignored me, and as he mounted me and started to
enter me, he whispered back, "My cock will fix that." He then pushed into
my dry cunt.  It hurt at first, but Philip was right, I got wet quickly,
and then he was fucking me gently so as not to be too totally obvious about
it. 

   But it was pretty obvious, that's for sure.  You don't lie on top of a
naked woman and move up and down unless something is going on.  You don't
need rocket science to understand that.

   Not so with Steve and Odessa when I had the chance to look over to them.
Steve was pounding away and it was obvious they were fucking to anyone who
did not have a blindfold on.  I also heard soft moans from Odessa.  Stupid!
I thought.  If I were a man nearby, I would take off my blindfold to see
what was going on. 

   Shortly after I thought that, one man sitting close to Odessa and Steve
did take off his blindfold and openly stared at them going at it.  Steve
was oblivious as he pounded away, but Odessa underneath him looked directly
at the man and smiled at him.  I think she even winked!  Then she closed
her eyes and moaned again. 

   As I observed all this, I was also quite well aware of what was
happening to me, as Philip relentlessly fucked me and began also to play
with my tits.  I was now very turned on, not just by the fuck, but also by
the exhibitionist insanity of the situation. 

   I was grateful for the distraction of Odessa and Steve.  I was hoping
nobody would even notice us going at it, but watch the other fucking
attraction of the evening.  However I also hoped people would watch us.  I
had contradictory feelings. 

   We were definitely noticed.  I was embarrassed, ashamed, and turned on,
all at once.  The man in the seat next to us had removed his blindfold and
was staring at us, with a face showing incredulity.  I turned my head and
looked him in the eye and smiled, following the example of Odessa.  Then I
closed my eyes and moaned softly.  I kicked the blanket off of us, to give
him a better show.  He recovered from his shock, and smiled at me. 



   Having the man watching us helped me to loosen up and enjoy the fuck. 
The imagined horror of people seeing me naked and being fucked on the
airplane was now replaced with the reality of it.  Reality is always less
frightening than the anticipation of it.  In this case reality was also
highly erotic. 

   Philip was screwing me, moving his cock in a circular motion, something
I love.  His cock would caress one side of my cunt, and then the other, all
the time rubbing my clit.  I began to breathe unevenly and began to
cooperate automatically, raising my body to meet his thrusts. 

   Getting a bit brazen, (okay, hugely brazen) I wrapped my legs around
him, pulling him further into me.  Then he surprised me and shocked me.  He
raised himself up, grabbed my legs and pushed them up vertically.  He then
pounded me fast and hard. 

   This was new for us.  It strained how limber I was.  All subtlety was
gone; we looked like we were starring in a porn movie.  There was no
ambiguity: Anyone who looked our way knew I was being spectacularly fucked
and would see I was naked underneath Philip. 

   A few other men sitting behind us were now watching us, Odessa told me
later.  I expected a flight attendant to come over and tell us we would be
arrested when the airplane landed.  But the flight attendants were nowhere
to be found. 

   I was so amazed this was happening, that I lost control and let myself
go.  Seconds later I came.  I think I even squirted, which I almost never
do.  But I'm not sure, because it I did it was drowned in the huge amount
of jism that came seconds later.

   Philip unloaded into my cunt, groaning softly as he did so.  His cock
squirted several times, and while a girl cannot estimate quantity with any
accuracy, I could tell there was a hell of a lot of his stuff charging into
me, zooming up my vaginal canal. 

   I gave a return groan, and he stayed on top of my naked body for a
while. Everyone still had their blindfolds on except for the four of us,
and our several voyeurs, so I gently pushed Philip off, and got up stark
naked and walked that way to the restroom.  I sat on the toilet for a while
letting gravity dispose of some of Philip's cum. 

   I had the presence of mind to bring the blanket with me.  Airplane
blankets, even in business class, are quite small.  We hit turbulence and
the "Return to Seat" sign lit up, and an announcement reminded us to fasten
out seat belts.  I knew the flight attendants would be out and about making
sure everyone's seat belts were on.  One knocked on the bathroom door
urging me to return to my seat. 

   When I left the bathroom I had no choice now but to return to my seat
naked.  Fortunately I am small, so I wrapped the airplane blanked around my
boobs.  It did not fall down low enough to cover all of my privates, so I
looked like a porn star tease.  But it was the best I could do.

   It did not occur to Philip to bring me my clothes.  Or maybe it did, and
he enjoyed my predicament; I don't know.  I walked back to my seat,
exposing my cum filled cunt to the entire business class cabin.

   Arriving at my seat, the plane lurched from the turbulence, and I was
thrown, in all my naked glory, onto the man sitting next to us, one who had
watched us fuck.  The blanket had come untied and fallen off of me. 

   He did not mind, and he got a nice handful of boob as he helped me to
right myself and get into my seat.  I sat down naked, fastened my seat belt
"low and tight around my stomach," and then draped Philip's blanket over
me, recovering a modicum of modesty. 

   I leaned over and said to the voyeur, "Thank you for your help." As I
did so, the blanket slid down exposing my boobs.

   He smiled at my exposed boobs and replied with a thick French accent,
"Anytime, miss."

   The steward had seen my little show.  He was behind me and I guess he
enjoyed seeing my naked ass as I returned to my seat.  I was glad we were
flying Air France.  If anyone could be blasÃ(C) about what had just
happened, it was the French. 

   I looked over to Odessa, and she was smiling at me, also having covered
her nudity with a blanket.  She mouthed the words, "You go, girl." I smiled
back.  We were destined to become good friends. 

   When I got back to my seat, fastened my seat belt over my naked body and
then covered up with the blanket, I glanced at Philip and he was smiling
from ear to ear.  I guess he had enjoyed my little show and humiliation of
trying to walk back from the john naked, covered only in the front with the
pathetically small airline blanket.  And when I fell onto our neighbor, I
of course revealed all of myself, further titillating my lover.  Philip was
an ass.

   Nevertheless, when I later reviewed our airplane fuck in my mind, and my
exhibitionist display of nudity to the entire business class cabin, I got
super hot thinking about it.  Mostly I thought about what I must have
looked like when Philip put my legs straight up in the air.  Quite a few
men had seen me, since they had removed their blindfolds in order to fasten
their seat belts. 

   Gradually people resumed trying to sleep and the steward disappeared
again, and then both Odessa and I, still naked, stood up and gradually
dressed, stretching out the exhibitionist aspect.  I put on my panties
first, then my skirt, so that I was standing with my boobs hanging out for
quite some time.  Finally I put my bra on, then my blouse.  I sat back
down, fastened my seat belt, noticed Philip was hard again from watching my
display, ignored it, and fell into a deep sleep. 

   Two hours later a crappy breakfast was served, but I slept through it,
and only awoke when the airplane landed.  Then the excitement of being in
Paris got my adrenaline pumping!  My virgin passport was deflowered with
its first immigrations stamp when I entered France, and Philip bought me my
first French croissant and coffee right there in the airport.  He gave me
some Euros, too. 

   In the line for passport control I noticed quite a few men from our
business class cabin on the plane were checking me out.  I even felt a
stranger's hand rub my ass.  I let it go, pretending not to notice, even
though it was impossible not to notice.  His hand was not subtle in its
"caress," having pushed hard into the crack of my ass.

   After passport control, I felt as if I were jumping up and down with
excitement, but outwardly I was cool, although I was constantly smiling. 
Ourl uggage came quickly.  The taxi took us directly to one of the best
hotels in all Paris, on the Avenue George V just off the Champs-ElysÃ(C)es.
From one window I saw the Arc de Triomphe, and from another I saw the
Eiffel Tower.  I idly wondered in front of which one Philip would undress
me?

   I still did not know in any detail why we were going to France.  I did
know it had something to do with the bank, and judging by the clothes I was
supposed to have bought, and did in fact buy, I knew we would be going to
some mighty fancy and formal events.

   Probably the events were the type where people brought their partners.
Once again with Philip I did not know if I was really his love being
whisked off to Paris, or just window dressing: Someone who was fun to show
off, to humiliate, and to fuck.  I did not really mind being shown off and
did not mind at all fucking Philip since I was crazy about him, but I could
do without the humiliation aspect.

   Basically I wanted to mean more to him than being a human analogy of a
clothing accessory, something he had to have as part of playing his role at
the bank. 

   We took a nap to help with jet lag, and in the evening Steve and Philip
took us to the Crazy Horse.  This was a "revue" of totally gorgeous near
naked dancing girls on the stage performing all sorts of dance numbers.  It
was very well done, and highly erotic, especially for the many men there.
Not so much for Odessa and me.  I did not understand why we were there.

   When the show ended, it became clear why we were there.  Some men came
over and ushered us off to the back.  We entered into a special room with
soft music and champagne, and men and women in various states of undress,
and engaging in various degrees of sex. 

   Two men were fucking one woman, and she was moaning and at times even
screaming.  I was mesmerized watching and I did not even notice that
someone standing behind me was undressing me.  I assumed it was Philip.  It
was not. 

   Two strange men were undressing Odessa and she was becoming naked fast.
I became naked soon after.  I looked around and could not see either of
Steve or Philip.  Odessa was placed on a table, and men stood around her
feeling her up and sticking their fingers in her.  She never protested and
began to moan.

   One wall was a huge mirror, reflecting all the action.  As I watched
Odessa and what was happening to her, I felt hands reaching from behind me
and caressing my boobs.  I tried to turn around to see who was doing it,
but his strong arms prevented me from doing so.

   I did not like this.  It was as if I was a sex toy in a room of horny
and creepy men.  I was abandoned by my date, and was in danger of being
forced to have sex with strangers.  Odessa might be into this, but I surely
was not. 

   I went to Odessa and said, "Come on, Odessa.  I don't know what's going
on, but I don't like this.  Grab your clothes and we're out of here!"

   I began to pick up my clothes that were strewn about on the floor.  As I
bent over to get the last item a finger entered my cunt.  Shocked, I
quickly stood up and slapped the finger, giggled, and said "Bad finger."
This was a mistake; I should have slapped his face, and should not have
giggled.  But I was nervous.  Hell, I was scared.

   The man was naked with a big erection.  Let's call him Man One.  He
smiled at me, and pulled me towards him, and kissed me gently.  It was a
nice kiss, but I was not into this whole scene.  I pushed myself away from
him, only to find as I backed out of his reach two new arms came around me,
holding my boobs.  Man Two held me firmly.

   Man One approached my now squirming but immobilized naked body.  He
slowly looked me up and down, licked his lips, and smiled.  I'm sure my
eyes showed panic.  This apparently turned on Man One.  He had a large
knife that glistened in the dim light, and he held his fingers to his lips.
I nodded in understanding.  I was now terrified.  Knives terrify me.

   Man Three came up to me, and he and Two led me over to a couch and lay
me down.  Man One and his knife followed.  Two and Three held me down, Man
One discarded his knife and climbed on top of me and positioned his big,
hard cock to enter me.  "No!!" I managed to scream at full voice.

   Startled, Man One froze.  My reaction was clearly unexpected, and he
stopped.  He lost his erection, and the grips of Two and Three on me
relaxed.  I got back up and picked up my clothes.  I could not find my
underwear, but to hell with it, I thought.  I just needed to get out of
there!

   I saw that a man had climbed up on the table and was mounting Odessa. 
She was going to be gangbanged, that was clear.  She had yet to speak,
either in protest or acknowledgement.  Nobody had spoken a word. 

   I went again to Odessa and said, "I'm leaving now.  Are you coming?" 

   Odessa said, "Steve wants this.  He's watching behind the mirror.  So is
Philip."

   I said, "Fuck them.  Do you want it?"

   Odessa began to sob softly.  "Come on," I said, and I pushed the man
waiting to fuck her off the table, and helped to pull her up.  My
adrenaline was pumping, giving me more strength than I ever thought I could
have.  "Get your clothes and shoes.  We're out of here!"

   Odessa and I left, naked, and dressed ourselves on Avenue George V with
an appreciative crowd of men watching us.  We then smiled and pushed past
them and walked up to the hotel.  Neither of us had found our underwear,
but at least we were dressed. 

   I was also a little turned on by the blatant display of my naked body on
one of the most fancy streets of Paris.  That it was unavoidable, unless I
was willing to be raped, made it even more of a turn on.  But I did not
dwell on it.  The whole experience was frightening.  I did not know what
was wrong with Philip, but I had serious doubts about him now.  Too bad.

   We got the key to my room and left a note at the front desk for Philip
that said, "Philip and Steve: Fuck You Both, and Go To Hell." I guessed
that was clear enough.

   We then went to my room, put a Do Not Disturb sign on the door, locked
and bolted it and put on the chain lock, and went to bed together in the
large king size bed.  Philip would have to bunk with Steve.

   The next morning Odessa borrowed some of my clothes.  We dressed in my
two sexiest outfits.  I put on my sexiest perfume, a bit too much of it
perhaps, and went to breakfast.  We had a leisurely breakfast and read the
morning International New York Times.  I also read the French paper Le
Figaro.  They had a Russian paper too, and since Odessa had studied Russian
in college, she enjoyed trying to read that.

   Steve and Philip found us, and we snubbed them.  They looked scared. 
They needed us to be on display, to be their women for some banking event.
They needed us to be smiling and fawning all over them.  Their prospects
did not look good.  They asked to join us, and we shook our heads no.  (I
had already coached Odessa to do this.)

   But they're bankers, and for bankers money talks.  So after we let them
squirm and suffer for a while, Odessa and I took them jewelry shopping and
hit them up for some major pieces.  They had to pay for what they had done,
and the way to get to a banker is through his bank account.  We had fun,
Odessa and I.  I now had some major diamond jewelry.  So did Odessa.

   The men, still in repentance mode, took us to the bar at the Bristol for
cocktails at the end of our day spending their money on ourselves. 
Remembering the previous evening, and turning the knife a little, when I
learned their signature cocktail was called "The Crazy Horse," I
immediately ordered one.  Odessa followed my lead.

   "OK, boys, now it's time to tell us what this trip is really about.  No
more surprises, I have had my fill." Odessa nodded in agreement.

   Steve began, while Philip studied the tablecloth.  "Well girls, tomorrow
Philip and I will go to a meeting of some of the top private bankers of the
world.  As you know, private banking caters to the very rich, and tries to
make them even richer.  Not surprisingly, they like that."

   Odessa said, "Yeah, yeah.  Get to the good stuff."

   Steve, a little flustered, cleared his throat and said, "After the day
of meetings, the bankers have a big party with their partners, and we all
unwind.  That's where you two come in."

   "No kidding, Sherlock," I said. 

   Steve turned and looked at me, and then continued, "The party is formal,
and we hope you will enjoy yourselves and socialize with the other bankers
and their women."

   "Are there no women bankers?" I asked. 

   Now Philip joined in.  "Largely no, Joanie.  Most of the rich who use
private banking services are men.  Most of the men are sexist and being a
woman private banker I fear would not be a pleasant occupation.  These men
are often pigs."

   "I get the picture," I said.  "And you want us to flirt with these pigs
and be nice to them and their women.  Or will they be call girls?"

   "Frankly, I don't know.  But yes, please, please be nice," Philip said
with some trepidation.

   "No worries, mate," I said, in my best Australian accent.  "You are two
are now forgiven and we are both still in love with you." I looked over at
Odessa and she nodded vigorously in confirmation. 

   "I should mention one other thing," Philip added.  Steve looked sharply
at him, and I saw fear in his eyes.  Our table at the bar fell into a loud
silence. 

   I broke the spell by signaling the waiter and ordering another round of
drinks.  When they came quickly after, we all silently drank our drinks,
and waited for Philip to spill the beans. 

   Philip finally broke the silence.  "There will also be some of our
clients there, and clients of other bankers too.  Some are billionaires and
will be with their wives or mistresses.  Others are not yet billionaires
but are very rich men.  They have strange tastes and are not accustomed to
being turned down."

   Philip had never used the word rich before.  He had always said wealthy,
comfortable, or well to do.  Now I knew what the word rich meant to him. 
The English language has lots of ways to say the same thing.

   Odessa was the first one to notice, while I was ruminating over Philip's
use of the word rich.  "What do you mean, exactly, by 'strange tastes'?"
she asked. 

   We had another long bout of silence.  Finally Philip spoke, "Strange
sexual tastes.  Some of them like multiple partners in the same evening,
and they like other people's women.  They take a lot of Viagra.  In
particular, they like their bankers' women.  I predict they will all want
the two of you."

   The silence that ensued at our little table was deafening.  First Philip
pimped me out for his promotion, and now he was going to pimp me out just
to keep his clients, or maybe win some from other men.  I felt sick to my
stomach. 

   I realized last night at the rooms behind the Crazy Horse was simply a
test to see just how wild Odessa and I could really be.  It had not gone
well for these two assholes, that was clear.

   My mind was racing.  I broke the silence, saying, "I'm speaking only for
me; Odessa may not agree.  I am fine if you want me to be a prostitute to
keep your clients or to land new clients, but if I am to be your whore, you
will have to pay me.  That's what you do with whores.  And you will do it,
and do it big time."

   Philip started to speak but I held up my hand.  I continued, "I want 5%
of the value of the business of every new client you land due in part to my
body, and 2% of the business of each client you keep because of my body."

   Philip and Steve stared at me, stupefied.  Odessa looked over to me in
horror, no doubt for having spoken the unspoken truth.

   "You should have told me sooner," I continued.  "Now we have very little
time.  I need to rush to buy a new dress for tonight, the one I already
bought will not do.  Philip, call the hotel and tell them to make me the
latest possible appointment tonight with the coiffure; I need to have my
hair washed and blown dry."

   "The party is tomorrow night, Joanie," Philip said.

   "Good.  That gives me more time," I replied icily. 

   Philip started to speak again.  "Not yet, I'm not done," I said. 
"Philip, make me a list of all the new clients you want me to seduce for
you, from the biggest fish on down, in descending order.  I will also need
to know the business of each one."

   "That's confidential, I can't..." Philip began to say.  My palm went up
again, right in his face, to stop him. 

   "You don't understand.  I don't care about how you invest their riches.
I need to know the golden goose that lays the golden eggs they give you to
invest.  I need to go on the Internet and learn about their businesses, and
I have precious little time to do this.  Philip, also get the wifi code for
our hotel room.  Now there's no time to lose, I have to go to the Lanvin
boutique before it closes today, to have some time for emergency
alterations, if any are needed.  What time is the party again?"

   "It starts at 8pm, tomorrow" Philip said meekly, "but we could arrive at
8:30pm, or even 9pm."

   "Ok.  I'm off.  Are you coming, Odessa?" I said.  Odessa looked scared
but she got up to come with me.

   "I'm coming too," Philip said.  I'll call the hotel and make the
arrangements, and I'll make the list for you while you choose your new
dress." I said okay and we ended up all four going to Lanvin.  I Google
mapped the address, and the doorman got us a cab. 

   "La boutique Lanvin," I told the cab driver, "aussi vite que possible."
He took off.

   Philip said, "I did not know you spoke French, Joanie."

   "That because you're a moron.  There is a lot you do not know about me.
To you, I'm just a pretty girl you can whore out to advance your career. 
In reality I am a human being, with intelligence and a personality."

   "You have no idea how thin the ice is that you're skating on.  Tomorrow
night I can make you rich, or I can ruin you.  It's up to me."

   The rest of the taxi ride was silent.  No one spoke a word.  Odessa was
beginning to look at me in awe and admiration.  Philip was scared stiff. 
Steve was just along for the ride. 

   Finally, Odessa spoke.  "Joanie, you looked drop dead gorgeous in the
gown you have, and sexy too.  Why is it wrong?"

   I said, "You'll understand when you see the new one I'm getting."

   When we got to Lanvin I spoke to the woman, and I did so in French so
the others would not understand.  I explained it was an emergency, I was
going to a formal affair tonight, but the dress I had brought, which was
also by Lanvin, was all wrong.  I pointed to it, since they had it on a
mannequin. 

   I explained I love the dress, but I need one that makes me look hyper
sexy but completely unavailable.  Not just the opposite of cheap, which
could send the signal that I might be available at the right price, but
simply not at all available.  Unassailable.  Out of reach, yet sexy.  The
men have to want me desperately, but know they cannot have me.

   Explaining all this taxed my French ability to the limit, but the
saleswoman nodded.  She complemented me on my French, too.  But she
answered me in near perfect, British-accented English.  She said, "Let me
think." Then she went into the back of the store, leaving us there. 

   She returned with three dresses and led me to a changing room.  All of
them were perfect for what I wanted.  Boy, this woman was good.  I chose
one that was the most amazing shade of green in the most velvety fabric
that ever existed, I'm sure. 

   The fabric was thin, you could almost see through it, making the dress
light, almost floating.  It had a bit of stretch to it, and consequently it
hugged my body perfectly emphasizing every womanly curve I had.  It clung
to my breasts, separating them and outlining them exquisitely.  It caressed
my ass.  I could not have worn it had I not had a perfect body.  An
advantage of being young, I thought.

   No skin showed.  None.  It had a high neck that rose almost to my chin,
long sleeves, and went down to the floor.  But you could see my bra and my
panties through the fabric. 

   The saleswoman said, "Try it on again with no underwear." I did.  Oh My
God this dress was perfect.  My nipples slightly poked at the fabric,
giving a hint of them, and more than a hint when they were hard.  There
were no lines anywhere.  My boobs were outlined perfectly.  The dress came
in and clung to both my midriff and my waist and then clung gracefully to
my hips.

   There was a small dark spot where my mound was, due to my artistically
trimmed pubic hair.  In the three-way mirror I saw that my ass was outlined
perfectly, as it clung to both cheeks, and went in just a bit at my crack.
It was better than being naked -"it was sexier than nudity.

   The woman said, "I like the dark spot.  It makes you even sexier.  But
if you want not to have it, I'm afraid you will have to wax away the hair,
or to shave down there."

   I told her thanks, it's perfect.  Does it need alterations?  She said no
that remarkably it fits me perfectly.  She pointed out that the absence of
the need for alteration is indeed a rare event.  I thanked her.  "It's
perfect.  I'll take it."

   We left the dressing area to meet the others.  When they saw me in the
dress they all gasped.  Odessa said, "Now I understand!  Joanie you are
brilliant."

   Philip simply stared, and Steve said, "My God, Joanie, that dress was
made for you.  You look beautiful, stunning!"

   Philip was staring at the dark spot caused by my mound.  He licked his
lips.  He said, "Wow," very quietly. 

   I never asked the price of the dress, I just told Philip to pay.  He
told me later the dress cost almost $8,000.  The saleswoman wrapped up the
dress, and Philip and I grabbed a cab and raced back to the hotel.  We left
Steve and Odessa in Lanvin and the saleswoman went to work finding the
perfect dress for Odessa, with the same conditions as I had gave her for
me. 

   I went to our room, went on line and worked frantically at my computer
until it was time for my blow dry.  I took a break for it, and then had
room service back in the room while I continued to work frantically.  I
studied up on the biggest fish's golden gooses (he had several), and then
used all my skills, all my magic, to hack into his personal computer. 

   The man had left it turned on, and on line, in his hotel room, on a not
very secure network.  It was as if he were doing me a favor.  It still
wasn't easy, but it was doable.  It took me a long time, but eventually I
got in.

   I learned his inner most secrets, his wants and desires, and his fears.
I knew his perversions, too.  Rich men have dark secrets, that's for
sure. 

   For me, the hacking and learning the secrets of these men was the fun
part.  It was tinted however by knowing that I was expected to put out for
them.  I tried not to think about that, but it kept popping into my head.

   I next began on big fish number two.  I continued until I finally
stopped at 8pm the next day, applied the perfect perfume for the occasion,
dressed in my new drop-dead Lanvin creation, and told Philip to take me to
the hotel bar for a drink.  I wore my golden nail bracelet and my brand new
diamond encrusted gold broach, and my new gold dangle earrings that jingled
when I walked.  I called them my wind chime earrings.

   Every man at the hotel bar looked at me and some men stared.  I ignored
them all and told Philip the broad outlines of why I was doing what I was
doing, and my plan for the evening.  He was awe struck, and realized my
brilliance.  At least he is bright enough for that, I thought.

   You see, I knew the way to get to these men was to be completely
unobtainable, but extremely desirable.  It's all about desire and
impossibility.  These rich men want what they cannot have, and they want to
have what everyone else wants.  For tonight, I had to be the most desirable
woman there, and to be completely unobtainable.  I had to combine both:
desire and impossibility, and also be the trophy everyone wanted. 

   It was not enough to be the prettiest, nor the sexiest.  Those girls are
a dime a dozen.  I had to be both of those, and also the smartest, someone
he could talk to about what he loved the most in life, besides his money.
It could not be about money, I had to entertain his mind.  Then he would
want me more than life itself.  That, in essence, was my plan.

   And now I needed a buzz.  I could not be a whore if I were sober.  I
could play the seduction part best sober, but sadly I knew I was going to
have to deliver the sex, too.  That part scared me, especially after what I
had seen on the computer of the Big Fish. 

   I needed courage, and booze gave it to me.  Sadly, the cocktails at this
hotel were expensive champagne and some fruit liqueur.  Pathetic.  So I
ordered the oldest Scotch whiskey they had.  That might do the trick. 

   As I was sipping my whiskey, Steve and Odessa walked into the bar.  Just
as had happened when I walked into the bar earlier, it was as if time
stopped.  A hush enveloped the bar and it seemed like everyone stopped
breathing at the shock of this gorgeous vision that was floating in.

   Odessa did not go for subtlety.  She had on a bright red silk dress with
both very large and fairly small oval cutouts.  One of course was for her
entire back, with just a strap of fabric at the bottom of her neck
constituting the top boundary of the oval.  The oval ended where the crack
of her ass began.

   There was a large oval hole in the front, too.  It revealed the entire
inside sides of both of her boobs, almost exposing her nipples but stopping
just short.  You did get to see a fair amount of her areolas, since hers
were large, but not her nipples.  The cut out went almost to the bottom of
her neck at the top and all the way down past her belly button in the
front. It stopped just inches short of her vagina.

   There were also small cutouts on her sides.  If you wanted to stick your
hand inside her dress, you would have a large choice of ways to do it.  All
the rest was covered except for a small slit so that she could walk. 

   Clearly she was also commando: there was no way to wear either a bra or
panties with such a dress, without creating lines, or have parts of the
panties actually visible.  There were no lines.  Like my dress, it clung to
Odessa's body.  It maximally showed her beautiful creamy white skin.  It
had to be one of the sexiest dresses on earth.  It was the ultimate "fuck
me dress."

   The fabric of Odessa's dress was similar to mine, having just a tad of
stretch to it so that it hugged her body and also revealed every womanly
curve she had.  She had them all.

   Somehow her dress, while showing a large amount of skin and boob, but
did not make her look cheap or available, just ultra desirable.  I was
jealous as all hell, but I knew for my purposes tonight, that was not the
dress for me.  But it sure was for Odessa! 

   Steve and Odessa ordered the house cocktails at the hotel bar, champagne
with what peach liqeur in it, and then the four of us got into a cab to go
the party.  Steve sat in the back in between us two girls, and he already
had his hands under Odessa's dress.  She just smiled and looked straight
ahead.  When we got out of the cab she whispered to me thanks for arranging
the right clothes for us.  She understood my plan.

   I had previously told Philip how to behave when he spoke with the Big
Fish.  I knew the Big Fish would get him alone to ask about me, and I told
him to tell him I was not like that, and I was unavailable.  I knew from my
hacking research, the BF (as I called him; his actual name was Mark
Harwood) would push hard to get me, and after some resistance Philip should
advise him to get me drunk to have his best chance.  Then the BF would ask
for my biggest vulnerability, and after a while of more stalling, Philip
would tell him I liked old cars.  After a lot more pushing, Philip could
admit I had a weakness for sexual bondage games. 

   After I told Philip all this he was surprised, and said, "Joanie, I had
no idea you like old cars and especially that you are into bondage!"

   I said, "I don't like old cars, and I'm not at all into bondage.  This
is how we land the BF.  It's the BF who is into bondage.  What do you think
I was doing for hours on my computer?  On his computer he has pictures of
all the bound naked women that he has fucked, including his wife.  Just
trust me on this."

   The party was at an elegant private club on the right bank.  From the
outside it looked like another French government building, with massive
cut-stone walls and two unmarked doors so large that when they both opened
you could drive a car through them.  One door was open and two guards were
standing outside to keep out uninvited guests.

   We were ushered in.  The place was gorgeous, with a cobble stone patio
used to park a few fancy cars, and in the building beyond the courtyard we
entered an elegant room dating back to before the French revolution,
complete with a painted ceiling and gold leaf everywhere, or so it seemed.
As we entered a booming voice announced us: Miss Joan Harley and Mr. 
Philip Wilson, of New York.  We were each given glasses of champagne as we
made our grand entrance.

   Right from the start I knew I had chosen the right dress, jewelry, and
shoes.  Every eye in the place was on me.  I think my handsome lover Philip
was almost completely ignored.  In our sexist world it's all about the
women, how they look and what they're wearing.  In that sense, I was
batting a thousand. 

   I also chose the right perfume I silently thought, but that is for
later. Even more impressive, the eyes lingered on me even as the next
couple, Steve and Odessa, was announced.  And that despite the fact that
Odessa looked stunning.

   Odessa asked if she could cling to me during the party.  I told her yes,
please do.  Both of us were nervous and scared.  These were powerful men
surrounding us, among the lost powerful men in the world.  They were not
the immature sex hungry college drunks I was used to fighting off, and they
were not the New York masters of the universe that Odessa had learned to
swat away with ease and grace.  These men were a different type of animal.
We were each not sure we knew how to deal with them.

   Philip and Steve stood by our sides, reinforcing that we were theirs.  I
was not sure they realized that these men did not care.  Everyone was for
them tonight, in their minds.  They ruled the world, and could have what
they wanted.  You could see it in their eyes, and this is what frightened
Odessa, and despite my bravado and cocky self-confidence, it also
frightened me. 

   I realized to play the part I knew I had to play, I needed all my wits
and had to stay sober.  I also knew I had to be drunk when the sex part
came at the end.  When to start drinking was something I had yet to figure
out. 

   Philip and Steve were whisking us around and introducing us to men.  I
already knew the faces of the four fishes Philip wanted to land.  This was
from their pictures on various web sites.  They were older than their
pictures, but surprisingly young, most of them in their 40s or early 50s,
and more handsome as a rule than Philip's creepy boss, Mr.  Hardigan.

   The lingua franca of the event was English, since the rich
industrialists came from all over Europe, Japan, and Singapore, etc.  I
kept secret my ability with the French language. 

   The BF, Mr.  Harwood, was only 45, and reasonably good looking.  I gave
him and each of the other men a big smile, and I only spoke when spoken to.
Mr.  Harwood asked me banal questions, such as what I planned to do in
Paris.  I told him it was my first time in Paris, and I was curious about
their network of underground pneumatic tubes they once used to aid the fast
delivery of the mail.  I did not elaborate and left him dumbfounded.

   I knew he was expecting a reply such as I wanted to see the Eiffel
Tower, or to visit the Louvre, or to go shopping, or to enjoy an elegant
French meal.  Indeed, those things were exactly what I wanted to do.  But I
also knew that the answer I gave would intrigue him. 

   I excused myself from Mr.  Harwood, and Odessa and I left him
dumbfounded and mingled with any other women we could find who were not
surrounded by men.  This gave us a limited choice, but we did not care. 

   We enjoyed talking with the other women, and by doing so, nobody was
pressuring us to drink.  Every so often Philip or Steve would bring some
rich guy over to meet us, and we would dazzle them with our looks.  I
dazzled the first five big fishes on Philip's lists.  I enjoyed seeing them
dazzled, not just by my looks, but also my aplomb and my original and
provocative replies to their questions.  My computer work was really paying
off.

   Odessa was on display in her dress, and so was I.  The difference was
that Odessa's sexuality was up front and our there, whereas mine was a
little subtler yet as such ultimately more seductive. 

   Big fish number 4 quite discretely felt up my ass.  He was clever and
did it when we were near a wall, and my back was facing the wall.  He did
it in an erotic way, with his hand caressing the crack of my ass, giving my
ass cheeks little squeezes, and at one point he fondled the back of my cunt
from behind. 

   While he did this I just smiled innocently and drank my drink.  I did
not react at all.  He stopped, smiled at me, and then arranged it so he
could do the same to Odessa.  I gave a slight head movement to Odessa,
warning her so that she could have the presence of mind not to react.

   With Odessa he slipped his hand through one of the ovals to caress her
ass in the flesh, not through her dress.  Odessa looked at me.  I let him
do this to her for a few minutes, and then I said to him, "Please excuse us
both.  I see Mrs.  Harwood standing alone and we both want to meet her." 

   Big Fish 3 just smiled at us as we walked away, wiggling our asses for
him.

   Had I not been there, Odessa in her dress, jewelry, and perfume, and
with her natural beauty, would have been the most seductive woman there. 
The two of us together became irresistible to the rich men. 

   So they kept coming to us.  We would frustrate them by introducing them
to the women we were speaking with and then slipping away.  It was just
another aspect of my desire and impossibility strategy.

   Big Fishes numbers 2 and 4 came over together.  They were both French.
After some small talk they spoke to each other in French.  They said
something like this:

   Number 2: I've mentally undressed both of these bitches.  They have
bodies that will not quit!

   Number 4: I can't decide which one to fuck first.

   They said this right in front of us.  So I said to them, in near perfect
French, "Will you please excuse us gentlemen?  I think our partners are
looking for us." As Odessa and I left them standing there, horrified with
embarrassment, I knew my shit eating smile was in grave danger of becoming
laughter. 

   After a couple of hours of this, Philip and Steve got Odessa and me
alone, and they told us every man at the party wanted a chance with each of
us, or better, both of us at once.  They had narrowed it down to four, plus
the Big Fish Harwood, making five in total.  Were we game? 

   I said, "I need to get drunk, and fast." Odessa agreed.  They told us
the four men and Harwood had gone to a private room and they would take us
there when we were ready.  Odessa and I quickly each downed a large glass
of very old Scotch whiskey and I said, "Lay on, Macduff," and off we
went. 

   The four of us entered the well-lit room that was furnished in
Louis-something style.  A concession to modernity was two modern queen size
beds.  That made the purpose of this room pretty obvious. 

   As planned when I saw the two double beds, I shot Philip a look and
turned around and began to leave.  Philip caught me by the arm and began to
whisper something, as I was straining to get away.  Then Mr.  Harwood
approached, smiling and offering me a drink; in the other hand he was
carrying a small whip.

   I made a show of noticing the whip, relaxing, and then I smiled my flash
of headlights smile at Mr.  Harwood.  "That looks like an interesting
cocktail," I said, as Philip released my arm.

   "Thank you,' Harwood said.  "I designed it myself.  I call it "Liquid
Silk." 

   "I will be delighted to taste it, especially since you designed it
yourself.  I love original drinks,' I said.  I tasted it, and then tasted
it again.  I was silent for a time.

   "Is it alright?" Harwood asked.

   "Oh yes," I quickly said, snapping out of my reverie.  "It's delicious.
I was trying to figure out what is in it.  It's subtle, but please don't
tell me."

   "I certainly will not tell you," he said.  "It's a personal secret.  But
I'm pleased that you like it."

   I then took another taste, and beckoned him to come close and whispered
in his ear with my sexiest whisper, and told him the recipe for the drink.
I had of course found it when I hacked into his personal computer just
before the party.  He was flabbergasted.  He pulled away and for the first
time he looked at me as more than just a potential sexual conquest.  He now
saw me as a woman, and not just a sexually objectified woman. 

   To Philip's credit, he saw the change that occurred in Harwood when I
whispered the recipe in his ear.  Philip did not know what I was
whispering; he saw only the result.  I had deliberately made a mistake, so
my recipe was close to perfect, but not exactly perfect.  I had said Triple
Sec, when I knew it was Cointreau.  My proportions however were perfect.

   When my cocktail glass was empty, Harwood returned with another.  I gave
him my best smile, accepted it, and mentioned he missed his calling as a
bartender.  Then I said as if I were reflecting, "But it's nice you have
had so much success with pharmaceuticals." I added, "It looks as if your
new experimental drug, Navaserum, could alter the landscape for Alzheimer's
disease."

   This was my surprise number three (after the pneumatic tubes and the
cocktail recipe), as the development of the drug was top secret.  I had a
few more surprises prepared, but it now seemed clear I did not need them.
Harwood was a hooked fish.

   Harwood was now visibly flustered.  I glanced at Philip and his face
showed awe and amusement.  Harwood said, "Nobody knows about that.  How did
you...?"

   "A girl has to have her secrets," I told him, again giving him my best
smile.  "But Mr.  Harwood, if you give me a few more of your wonderful
cocktails, I'm sure you will be able to open me like a book." Given the
context, this was a double entendre, and in that snese perhaps a sexually
submissive thing to say.

   I had him now, in spades.  "Please call me Mark.  May I call you Joan?"

   "I prefer Joanie," I said.  "I've always been Joanie.  These really are
delicious, Mark," I said, handing him my empty glass.  I was beginning to
get drunk.  Finally; thank God, I thought.  I need to be seriously drunk if
I am to let him take me to bed. 

   At this point I looked over at Odessa, and caught her eye.  She had
landed a big fish too, and he was already kissing her and had a hand inside
her dress.  I idly wondered which oval he had chosen to use as his
opening. 

   When the kiss broke she winked at me and smiled.  Four more men had
entered the room.  That made 8 men plus the big fish.  That was way too
many men for only two women.  What was going on?  Steve and Philip had
tricked us.  Five was bad enough, but nine?  All 9 of the men constituted
exactly Philip's list of big fishes.

   Odessa's fish had pushed her dress off her boobs, exposing them, but he
had no idea how to remove her dress since the zipper was hidden.  Odessa
then unzipped her own dress for him, and he peeled it off her luscious
body. Since she too was commando, she quickly became nude. 

   She was standing there nude in front of a room full of nine men, and
Steve and Philip.  Not only that but the room contained two double beds,
removing all subtlety about the evening's entertainment.  The women were
just the two of us.  Nine men, two women; I was not a happy camper.  Odessa
carefully folded her dress; she wanted to make sure it did not get harmed.

   The men all stood and admired Odessa, and I was impressed with Odessa's
aplomb at not showing how freaked out she must have been to be a sexual
target for eight men at the same time.  I don't count Harwood: I was
clearly his idÃ(C)e fixe for the evening.  Mark came over to me with a new
cocktail. 

   I tore my eyes from Odessa and looked into his.  We both knew where this
was going.  I thanked him for his cocktail with a nice smile on my lips,
and then I saw he had the whip in his hand.  I glanced at it, and gave him
a bigger smile. 

   He approached me and without saying a word, as I was sipping his
cocktail, he slowly and carefully unzipped my dress.  "What a beautiful
dress," he said.  "And you look even more beautiful while wearing it."

   "I love complements," I replied.  "Thank you.  Maybe I should stay in my
dress?" My dress was now unzipped, and he was slowly lowering it from my
shoulders.  I pulled it back up, and smiled at him.  I was not going to be
so easy. 

   "I'm drinking," I said.  Mark nodded.  He looked over at Odessa.  She
was now lying on the bed, and four men were crowded around her.  They too
had become naked.  The men blocked my view somewhat, but it looked as if
her breasts were being fondled, and fingers were in her cunt. 

   She was smiling at the men, writhing just a bit on the bed.  She gave
very appearance of enjoying herself.  I was impressed; I could not have
done that.  Maybe Odessa should have been an actress.

   Two men came into the room bearing handcuffs and other restraints, and
attached them to the bed.  I looked at Mark and raised an eyebrow.  "Aren't
you sweet," I said.  "Is that to restrain the wild animal inside me?" 

   "That is my fondest hope, you amazing and gorgeous creature," he
replied. When he said that, I handed him my empty cocktail glass.  I had
downed four or five of his special cocktails and was now seriously drunk. I
was as ready as I'd ever be. 

   "What animal are you?" Harwood asked, playing with the metaphor.

   "Why, I thought it was obvious.  I am a tigress.  Quite a fierce one, I
warn you," I replied never breaking my smile.  Harwood's smile got
bigger. 

   Harwood again began to slip off my dress, and this time I just stood
there smiling as he undressed me, giving no resistance.  Soon it was
revealed that I too was commando, but maybe that was obvious to him
already. 

   Some of the men crowding around Odessa stopped to watch Harwood undress
me.  I imagine watching the dress unpeel from my body was a sexy sight.

   Harwood stepped back to take in my body with his penetrating eyes, and I
just smiled.  He led me to the bed, and his two servants strapped me in.  I
was now helpless, completely constrained, naked, and with my legs spread. I
was still smiling, although I was so scared at this point, it took a major
effort to maintain the smile. 

   Everybody was looking at me now, staring at my wide open cunt and my
breasts sagging off to the sides of my chest a little.  Any one of them,
and probably all of them did, could imagine jumping on top of me and
fucking my brains out.  And of course I knew this.  I could see it in their
eyes.  It was a terrifying sight, their eyes.

   Mr.  Harwood, or Mark as he told me to call him, turned to one of the
servants.  "Get her ready for me," he said.  This surprised me.  The
servant got on the bed with me and began to fondle and kiss my boobs, then
he began to finger me ever so gently, and finally he began to eat me out.
He had done this before, clearly, and was quite skilled. 

   He never tried to kiss me.

   He avoided my clit and licked the sides of my labia, up and down.  I
discovered this was an extreme turn on for me.  Then he gradually placed a
finger at the entrance of my cunt but did not insert it, just tantalizingly
teased me with the prospect of it entering me as he continued his magic
with my labia. 

   Then he raised his head a couple of inches and ever so gently blew on my
cunt.  This was driving me nuts.  He licked me slowly up and down for a
while, stuck his nose in my cunt and moved it around.  Nobody had ever done
these things to me, and I found them erotic.  Basically it was a prolonged
tease. 

   Most of my lovers never had the patience, or perhaps the desire, to
tease me in such a prolonged way.  It's too bad, because a long tease leads
to a high level of arousal.  It certainly did in this case.  Suddenly the
servant thrust his finger deep inside me.  I was intensely longing for
something like that.  I practically came right there.  He then stopped. 

   "She is ready," the servant said, in heavily accented English. 

   The servant was fully dressed.  As he was eating me, I thought: He has a
nice body, hard and compact.  I could not touch him though, due to the
handcuffs.

   I could see Odessa if I turned my head, but I did not need to.  I could
hear her.  Everyone could.  She was moaning loudly as one of the fishes was
fucking her hard.  I did look and they were in missionary position.  The
ultimate domination position, I idly thought.  Other men with erections
were standing around her, waiting their turns. 

   The man on top of Odessa was holding her arms down, making her at least
partially helpless.  But she was willing, that was clear.  He was doing it
just for the effect.

   While the servant was eating me out, I maintained a smile and stared at
Harwood, never breaking eye contact.  This went against my habit of closing
my eyes while being eaten out and letting my imagination run wild.  But I
did not want to show any emotion.  I was afraid if I did, my face would
show disgust, because that is exactly what I felt.

   Next to him was another servant with a fancy camera, constantly taking
pictures of me while the other servant made me "ready" for Harwood.  I
distracted myself trying to see if the camera was a Nikon, a Canon, or a
Leica.  It was a Leica as it turned out. 

   However the body has a mind of its own, and the stimulation I received
from this man's practiced technique eventually, and almost against my will,
led to an orgasm when he finally and suddenly thrust his finger deep inside
me.  When I had it, it took me by surprise so that I gasped and shook just
a little.  It was enough, however, for Harwood to notice.  He smiled.  It
was an evil, cruel and triumphant smile, although maybe I was over
interpreting.  I hoped I was. 

   Now naked, bound, and having cum, the man with the Leica approached me
closer and closer taking about one hundred pictures in shutter bursts.  I
knew the one that came out best would be in Harwood's folder of sexual
conquests on his computer.

   Harwood then undressed and climbed onto the bed.  I inwardly grimaced,
but used all of my mental strength to keep smiling.  Why wasn't the alcohol
working?  As he came near me, I said, "If it would not be too much trouble,
could I have a Scotch whiskey chaser?"

   Harwood stood up, shot a look to one of the servants, and the man ran
out of the room and almost immediately returned with two large Scotch
whiskeys on the rocks.  Harwood took one, but I had no hands available to
take mine.  He pointed to the restraints, and one of my arms was freed.  I
raised my head as much as I could and drank my Scotch together with
Harwood. 

   At this point two very attractive prostitutes entered and began to
undress Steve and Philip.  Philip shook his head and waved them away. 
Steve however succumbed to temptation, and while Odessa was being
gangbanged to help his career, he was getting his rocks off with a
prostitute.  I don't know how Odessa felt about this, but if Philip had
done that I would have killed him.  Perhaps Philip knew that.

   I felt better after the Scotch and lay back down and my hand was
promptly cuffed again.  Harwood had lost his erection during this long
interlude with the Scotch, so he placed his flaccid cock next to my mouth.
I smiled at him but kept my mouth closed.  He raised an eyebrow but did
nothing.

   He got up off the bed, leaving me naked on display, tied to the bed with
my legs spread wide.  He went over to Odessa.  She lay on the bed, legs
splayed, with cum oozing out of both her cunt and her ass.  Her hair was a
mess, and there was cum on her stomach and on her breasts. 

   The men had all finished with her, and she was clearly played out.  He
put his cock near her mouth, gently touched her cheek so that she opened
her eyes, and she sucked and nursed his cock skillfully into a prominent
erect state.

   He left her and returned to me, never said a word, lay down on top of me
and brutally stuck it in.  I was no longer wet, but at least I now felt
drunk, and anyway I had recently discovered to my horror and surprise that
I kind of liked rough sex. 

   Being drunk helped a lot.  I gasped involuntarily when he entered me and
then began to moan in pleasure as the rough sex turned me on (and this was
truly rough).  I didn't even have to act.  I opened my eyes and saw that
all eyes were on me, even Steve's as he pounded the whore from behind.  She
too was making noise, but I knew she was acting.  I was not. 

   That I was bound and could not move made me feel dominated, and absolved
me of any responsibility for what was being done to me.  Bizarrely, this
was liberating.  I felt a new type of arousal, letting me relax and just
enjoy the sex, independent of the pig who was giving it to me.  Now I was
really into it, to my great surprise.

   I rapidly became wet, and Hardigan knew it.  I think it was a turn on
for him that he made me wet with his rough sex.  He didn't stop; he just
pounded harder.  He rose up off my body as he ravished me, propping himself
up with his arms.  He nodded to a servant, and the servant came over with
some kind of electric prod. 

   I fought back the fear and looked at the prod and then smiled up at
Harwood.  He smiled back, and this time his smile seemed genuine.  For the
moment at least, he had me.  I was his, to do with as he pleased, and he
knew it, and I knew it.  Most importantly for him, he knew that I realized
I was completely, and willingly, even-dare I say?-enthusiastically in his
power.  This is what turned him on. 

   The servant touched me with the prod and I received an electric shock.
My body jerked involuntarily, and I gasped.  Then I gave a loud moan, and
whispered to Harwood, "Faster.  Harder.  Deeper." He complied. 

   I got another shock.  I had the same reaction.  I had been terrified,
but again to my total surprise, I found the whole situation highly erotic.
I was being roughly fucked, with all sorts of men watching (everyone was
watching me; nobody was watching Steve and his whore), as well as Odessa,
and the electric shocks were making me tingle and seemed to increase the
sensations from Harwood's cock.  Plus the restraints added another
dimension.  I had no idea I was this kinky.

   I began to moan loudly.  My constrained body rose to meet his thrusts,
as much as it could.  I was straining at the restraints.  I was sweating
and my boobs were heaving.  I was out of control.

   I had told Philip to mention bondage, because I knew from my hacking of
Harwood's computer that it was the weakness of Harwood himself.  All these
rich men are into power and nothing else.  Misogynistic power over a woman,
another human being, was the ultimate power.  The writings of the Marquis
de Sade had explained that to me.  (I had read Sade in my comparative
literature class at college.) Harwood was no exception.

   I had arranged to be the ultimate trophy for Harwood: a beautiful, sexy,
irresistible woman who was smart and knowledgeable enough to be a threat.
Such women had to be dominated, to be humiliated.

   But now it turned out I was into all this.  After the third electric
shock, and more brutal fucking by Harwood, I was overcome by a huge, mega
orgasm.  I screamed to high heaven, shook and vibrated, and almost passed
out.  Harwood smiled at me and then plunged his cock in as deep as he could
get it and unloaded his jism deep inside me.  He then fell on top of me.

   "You are quite a woman," he whispered to me.  "I've wanted a woman like
you all my life." I smiled up at him, and gently kissed his chest, the only
body part my lips could reach.

   Then Harwood whispered, "You are the equal of my wife.  That's the
highest complement I can give you."

   Smiling at him, I whispered, "Thank you." I did not dare speak in full
voice, I don't know why.

   He got off of me and quickly got dressed.  In parting he said, "We need
to talk later about Navaserum."

   I thought the evening was over and fully expected that I would be
released from my bondage.  I was naïve.  Harwood left the room with
Philip, and I looked around for the servants who would release me, but they
too were gone.

   All of the eight men who had gangbanged Odessa now sported erections
anew and were looking at me with lust and supercilious smiles. 

   I was immobilized.  I was struck with terror.  Philip had left the room
and could not save me.  One of the eight pigs was on top of Odessa,
enjoying her for a second time.  I realized this was her ninth fuck of the
evening.  Holy shit. 

   Odessa could not save me.  Steve was also gone.  I was on my own.  I was
doomed. 

   The men saw the terror in my eyes, and they seemed to like it.  I think
they even got off on my terror.  One by one they each fucked me.  Big Fish
number 2 was the first to fuck me.  He was a good fuck as it turns out, and
I concentrated on the bondage element, that I was helpless and was being
ravaged.  I was not responsible. 

   This worked a second time, and I got into the fuck and gave Number 2 a
big macho ego boost with my reactions to his brutal treatment of me.  It
turns out misogynists who ravish bound women actually like it if the women
enjoy the sex; all the more so if the woman being ravished were one of the
two sexiest girls at the party. 

   Next came Big Fish number 3.  They were unwittingly keeping the order of
Philip's list.  I focused on the knowledge I was being gangbanged,
something I never, ever thought I would like.  But with the bondage, and
everyone watching, almost drooling as they waited their turn, and the
roughness of the misogynists, I discovered I was into it. 

   This was needed, and reassuring, as I got fucked repeatedly.  I had not
cum with Big Fish number 2, but I sure did with number 3.  Nobody in the
room had any doubt I had cum; I was noisy and was not at all subtle.

   Big Fish number 5 went before number 4; I saw that was because Number 4
was having a second round with Odessa, her tenth fuck by my count.  I was
becoming played out.  I did not think I could continue.

   I called out to Odessa and that woke her from her drunken stupor.  She
saw what was happening to me and she saved me.  She undid my restraints and
as soon as the man on top of me had squirted onto my face and my boobs, she
helped me up.  I spoke for the first time other than my call to Odessa. 
"That's enough boys.  Maybe next time." 

   Odessa and I cleaned up thoroughly in the restroom and put our dresses
and shoes back on, and went off to look for our men.  I gave Odessa a
little talk.  She was near tears, having been fucked my 8 men, and some of
them fucked her twice.  I told her it was now essential not to let it show.
"Hold your head up and smile your best smile.  I'll do the talking for both
of us," I told her. 

   We found Philip speaking with the Big Fish Harwood, and both men were
smiling.  I could tell Philip had landed him.  I found out later he landed
the top 4 on his list, all four of the men who had fucked me after Harwood
finished.  Steve got the rest of the big fishes, thanks to Odessa's
talented cunt. 

   Odessa and I came up to Philip and Harwood, all smiles.  I said, "Odessa
and I are tired.  I'm sure you understand.  But please stay and enjoy
yourself, we'll take a cab back to the hotel."

   Philip nodded and kissed me.  Mr.  Harwood said, "It was a pleasure
getting to know you.  I look forward to speaking again with you soon." I
just smiled.  We hadn't done much speaking.  We had gotten to know each
other all right, but only in the biblical sense.

   The pleasure was mostly his, I thought to myself.  But I did enjoy the
fuck, I acknowledged to myself, and also learned something new about
myself: In the right circumstances, I could enjoy bondage.  I had survived
a gangbang. 

   These were insights about myself I did not need to know.  I could have
led a happy life never knowing I could enjoy bondage.  But now I had done
it, and I knew.  Get over it, I told myself.  Having the knowledge is good.
I repeated that in my mind several times. 

   We found Steve, and he too was landing a new fish as a client.  He was
also fine with us two girls returning to the hotel.  We had done our part:
we had fucked the potential new clients, and we were done for the night.  I
was disgusted.

   We took a cab to the hotel, and I led Odessa to the bar.  We still
looked spectacular, and everyone stopped talking to look at us as we
descended the four steps into the bar area.  We were two goddesses, alone,
entering the hotel bar, dressed in about as fancy evening clothes as a
woman could wear.  We took a table at the back and ordered drinks.  Then we
discussed the evening.

   Odessa was traumatized by the gangbang that seemed never to end.  Maybe
traumatized is not the right word.  Let's just say it affected her
profoundly.  I was not in much better shape myself. 

   After all, I was only 20 years old (Odessa was 24), and this was a lot
for my young brain to cope with.  I was also exhausted by the Herculean
effort I had made to create my plan and to execute it.

   I let Odessa cry and get it out of her system.  Men came over to see if
they could help, presumably by distracting and later seducing us, and I
firmly sent them away.  We talked for a long time and Odessa got it all out
and finally stopped crying.  She recovered. 

   The poor girl really did love Steve, and she thought she would do
anything for him.  And apparently she did.  She did in fact too much for
him, and now her feelings for him were confused. 

   I was not sure exactly how she felt, but my feelings were clear.  This
kind of life with such disgusting people such as all the Big Fishes, and
yes I must also include Steve and Philip who pimp out their women who love
them just to advance their careers, was not for me.  Give me philandering
Mike over this any day of the week. 

   I could not get around that Philip let this happen, and then left the
room leaving me to the wolves, naked, strapped down and defenseless.  It
was only pure luck that I got into it.  He must have known I would be
gangbanged. 

   Could he have thought I actually wanted that?  Wanting it and ending up
enjoying it after it is forced upon you are not the same thing.  Could a
man understand that?  I had my doubts. 

   Is it some kind of male fantasy that women enjoy being gangbanged by
strangers who view them as conquests?  What was wrong with him?  Something,
that was clear.  I did not want the gangbang.  I dreaded the gangbang, and
I remember my terror when I was realized it was going to happen, and I was
helpless to stop it.  I will never forget that terror. 

   Honesty forces me to admit I did enjoy it as it turned out, but still:
It's the principle of the thing.  But nothing is worth that moment of
terror.  Nothing.

   We again locked ourselves in our room.  I left another note for the men,
this time saying, "Your two beautiful women whom you used as whores for
your own gain will not be seeing you tonight.  You two pimps can go jerk
off together."

   I took Odessa to my room, put out the Do Not Disturb sign, closed and
locked the door, and bolted it.  Then I said to Odessa, "Let's undress in
the windows.  Do you want to titillate the Eiffel Tower, or give a thrill
to the Arc de Triomphe?  Bear in mind that Freud would say the Eiffel tower
is phallic, while the Arc de Triomphe is definitively not." 

   Odessa giggled for the first time since our arrival in Paris.  She got
up to join me, slowly undressing in the window.  She chose the Arc de
Triomphe.  She remarked that she had had her fill of phalluses.

   The next day I was furious with Philip.  My anger seemed to grow as the
shock of the whole experience wore off.  I do not see how, if he loved me,
he could have left me bound to a bed with my legs splayed, having just been
roughly fucked and prod with something like a cattle prod, with a bunch of
men in the room who had just gangbanged Odessa and would now gangbang me. 

   That is what they did, until Odessa saved me.  Still, I was taken by
four of them before she could save me.  Counting Harwood, I was fucked by
five men.  My cunt was seriously sore.

   The only possible conclusion was that I was just a piece of meat for
Philip.  To hell with him.  I would have thought Odessa would think the
same about Steve, but she did not act that way.  At breakfast when Philip
saw me, it was if he were looking at a glacier.

   Philip was not an idiot, although at times I wondered.  He knew what he
had done.  I had tried so hard, and succeeded with four of the Big Fishes,
especially Big Fish #1, and I had won my 5% cut.  That was clear.  Civility
was no longer needed. 

   Philip though did look handsome and debonair.  He came over to me meekly
to apologize.  He begged forgiveness, and had a bouquet of flowers in his
hands.  The flowers were spectacular.  It was not just a dozen roses, but a
floral creation, the likes of which I had never seen before.

   It was clear he would do anything for me at this point to get me to warm
up to at least room temperature, instead of being the icicle I presented to
him.  I was having none of it. 

   After breakfast I returned to the hotel room and locked Philip out.  I
left the beautiful floral creation behind on the breakfast table.  I was
not being subtle. 

   I was too upset to read the novel I had brought on the trip, and I was
watching French daytime TV when there was a knock at my door.  I ignored
it. The knocking did not stop and I heard Odessa's voice.  I muted the TV
and went to the door, and Odessa said, "Joanie, it's Odessa.  Please let me
in."

   I unbolted the door and opened it wide for Odessa.  She was alone. 
Good. "Come on in, Odessa," I said and gestured her inside.  She entered
and sat down.

   "Philip is in a state.  He thinks you hate him," she said.

   "He's right.  That's the first correct thought that has entered his
pathetic head.  Don't you just as well hate Steve?  And by the way, Philip
didn't send you here, did he?" I said.

   "I'm stranger than you think, Joanie." Odessa began.  There was import
to her voice.  I sat down and gave her my full attention.  "I know you are
an exhibitionist.  And I know you like sex and have quite a few partners. I
know you're easy when you're drunk." 

   "I also know that whole bondage thing was just an act.  Basically, you
are a fairly straightforward girl who likes sex and showing off her body
from time to time.  Great body too, by the way."

   "Thank you," I said.  I did not say more, to let her continue.  I could
tell this was not easy for her. 

   "I, on the other hand, am so strange sexually I do not understand it
myself.  For example, when I saw you bound to the bed last night and
getting roughly fucked and with that horrible electric thing, I viscerally
felt it happening to me."

   I looked at her in surprise, but also rapt attention. 

   Odessa continued, "I was not so much into my own gangbang as I was into
experiencing what was happening to you.  It was thrilling to me.  Don't get
me wrong: I also enjoyed the gangbang.  I know that is not your thing, but
all those men wanting to have me, one after the other, turns me on.  A
lot."

   "It's the same with bondage.  I long to be totally dominated, to be
controlled and ravished and to be helpless while it is happening.  But I am
too afraid to try it.  I am terrified of being helpless like you were."

   "I do somehow enjoy it vicariously, though, for example when it happened
to you last night.  Steve knows all this.  That's why I'm not mad at him
for his behavior last night," she continued.  "In fact, I'm still crazy
about him," Odessa said. 

   "I really admire you, Joanie.  Your courage, your take-charge attitude,
your clever planning, and your ability to do what it takes, whatever it is.
I wish I could be like you," she continued. 

   "I should have told you all this earlier.  I apologize," Odessa
concluded, and then fell silent. 

   I was silent too, absorbing all that she had said.  It was a lot to
absorb.  Odessa was one sick puppy.  But I liked her a lot, and I
appreciated her honesty. 

   I went over and gave her a hug.  She turned and kissed me full on the
lips, a very sexy kiss and full of affection.  Her hands fondled my breasts
while she kissed me.  I broke the kiss.

   I said, "I'm sorry, Odessa.  That's not really my thing.  I enjoyed it
when you went down on me back in New York, but that was a unique
circumstance.  I'm a committed hetero."

   "I understand, Joanie," she replied.  "I myself am mostly hetero, too.
Mostly."

   "I saw that last night," I said, and we both laughed.  It was my first
laugh since we got to Paris, I realized.  We sat quietly for a while.

   Odessa broke the silence.  "What are you going to do about Philip?" she
asked. 

   "I don't know," I replied.  "It's awkward.  I'm here on his nickel,
stuck in Europe with him, and all I want to do is to kick him in the
balls."

   "Maybe you should pretend, until you are safely home in the US?" Odessa
offered.

   "That in fact may be the best strategy," I said.  "How bad is he
suffering?  Is he truly worried, or just putting on an act?"

   "Oh, he's in bad shape.  Steve told me in confidence, and Steve was not
lying.  I can always tell when he lies," Odessa said. 

   "Good," I said.  "Tell you what.  Let's make them buy us some more
clothes.  Let's go have fun spending their money."

   "There's another thing, Joanie.  Better you hear it from me.  That
asshole Harwood wants to have lunch with you, Philip, and Harwood's wife,"
Odessa added.  She was nervous when she said it. 

   I laughed loudly.  "Oh, this is going to be fun.  Bring him on!" I said.
Then I fired up my computer.  "A little more research to prepare for 'the
lunch with assholes.' Want to stay while I get the lowdown?"

   "No, Steve is waiting for me.  I'd better go," Odessa said and got up to
leave. 

   "OK, thanks for coming to me and calming me down," I said.  "I also
appreciate how open and honest you were with me just now."

   I stayed in the room until 11am, working furiously on my computer.  I
was frustrated by the security of Harwood's pharmaceutical company.  I
could not penetrate it.  I was impressed.  I had illusions about my hacking
skills, but I got nowhere with this company's security.  It was good.

   After a half hour of complete frustration, I had an epiphany.  I
realized I could hack into the company through the connection to it that
Harwood himself had on his own computer.  I was pleased with myself. 
Moreover, my plan actually worked.  I was in!

   What I discovered however shook my world, and scared the shit out of me.
I might have been better off without the knowledge.  I would not have
understood what I found had I not learned already, in my Statistics class,
how to analyze data. 

   But I had learned some stats, and I did understand.  Then I smiled.  I
had Harwood.  Revenge was in the offing, should I choose to use it.  Were I
to use it, it's possible I would be sacrificing my 5% commission, and that
was a lot of money, especially for someone like me, a poor country girl.  I
faced some tough choices.

   I emerged rested, happy, and very well dressed to face the world, at
11am.  I went down to the lobby and found Odessa and Steve sitting in the
overstuffed chairs.  I had told Odessa I was planning to go shopping at
11am, and apparently she had waited for me.  I was glad.  I was no longer
mad at Steve, due to Odessa's explanation.  I smiled sweetly at both of
them. 

   "I need to buy some new clothes before lunch," I announced. 

   "Joanie, you look beautiful right now," Steve said. 

   "Thank you monsieur," I said.  "But if I am to lunch with Harwood, I
need clothes that provide more of a defense, and also that impress his
wife. What I'm wearing now is nice I agree, but too blatantly sexy.  This
is all about subtlety.  And we don't have much time.  Want to come?"

   Odessa jumped up.  We hopped in a cab and I said, "St.  Germain des
PrÃ"s, s'il vous plait." The cab sped off.  Nobody had mentioned Philip. 
Steve was smart, and probably well briefed by Odessa.  I did not even know
where this lunch meeting was, but I figured Philip would find us and get me
there in time.  Anyway, that was his problem. 

   I went to a few designer boutiques and found exactly what I wanted at
Yves St.  Laurent.  There was the added benefit of the boutique facing the
Eglise St.  Sulpice, one of the great historic churches of Paris.  It still
had bullet holes in the stone from the revolution back in the 18th century.
But I had no time to be a tourist.

   I wore the outfit out of the store, and asked the store to deliver the
clothes I had worn to the store to my hotel.  Fancy stores do stuff like
that, I had learned.  It also helps to be staying at one of the fanciest
hotels of Paris, as we were.

   It was a different world from the world of Target that I had grown up
with in my hometown.  I charged everything to the gold American Express
card Philip had given to me. 

   Then we crossed to the right bank and went to Bulgari.  There I bought a
necklace that went perfectly with my YSL suit jacket, and again charged it.
It had different colored gemstones set in gold. 

   It was just as expensive as it was stunning.  Good.  Philip would pay
for his acts with money, the bastard.  I had already paid up front with
sex, degradation, and humiliation. 

   At Bulgari I also bought something I had always wanted.  It was a large
gold Maltese cross on a long gold chain.  It was solid gold (18 carats) and
it fell between my boobs, emphasizing my cleavage.  I loved the sacrilege
of drawing a man's attention to my cleavage with a beautiful religious
symbol.  It just seemed so perverse to me!

   My experience however was that no incentive or trickery was needed to
draw a man's attention to my cleavage.  Their eyes were relentlessly drawn
there in any event, gold cross or no gold cross. 

   It was not so strange I thought.  The Catholic religion had always known
if it could control even your sex life, it had total control over you.  And
if I transgressed, I could always confess and be forgiven.  But the church
had to know what I'd done, and knowledge is power.  I was raised that way.
The cross held tightly between my boobs was my own small personal
rebellious act: my revenge. 

   Under my YSL jacket I wore a scoop necked silk blouse with a push up
bra, and the cross looked stunning, becoming partially lost inside my
boobs. But with the jacket on, nobody besides me would know.  After the YSL
and the Bulgari purchases, I was beginning to wonder if Philip's card even
had a credit limit!

   I went back to Steve and Odessa just as they were receiving a text from
Philip with the coordinates of the restaurant for the lunch with assholes,
as I thought of it.  Steve put me in a cab and off I went, in my new
clothes and jewelry. 

   I also wore my Christian Louboutin high heels.  I made a mental note to
pick up another pair of them.  I had never worn more comfortable high
heels.

   The Yves St.  Laurent outfit was within the rubric of a woman's business
suit, even if it pushed at the boundaries.  But it hugged my curves so
well, and so suggestively, that if a woman actually wore it to a business
meeting she would have all the men in the palm of her hand. 

   The luscious fabric of the YSL suit hugged my boobs and outlined them,
giving them a large emphasis but doing it in a subtle way.  It was almost
as if my body was hyper sexy in spite of my attempts to ignore that feature
of it.  This was genius, in a suit. 

   I wished I could lose my bra, and let my boobs feel directly the
unmediated caresses of the suit jacket, but I knew I had to wear a bra at a
lunch such as this one. 

   I made a stunning entrance to the lunch.  I was a sight to see. 
Everyone in the restaurant looked at me as I entered alone.  It was mostly
the YSL suit.  But the necklace worked its magic too.  The host ushered me
to the table, and Harwood and Philip stood to greet me. 

   I shook Harwood's hand, and gave Philip a peck on the cheek.  It was a
kiss a middle-aged protestant woman would give to another such woman.  It
was devoid of sexuality, and devoid of emotion.

   I gave a big smile to Mrs.  Harwood.  She had to know her husband had
fucked my brains out the night before, but she seemed not to care and gave
me a big smile back.  I wished I had been sitting next to her instead of
between the two men. 

   I had a funny thought.  Maybe Mrs.  Harwood was even happy her husband
got his rocks off fucking some banker's woman, so he would not bother her
with his perversions?  I guessed she had long ago had her fill of them.

   The waiter came, and I ordered in French.  The others ordered in
English. This was a tiny power move, and it endeared me to the waiter.  He
paid a lot of attention to my needs.  The men made small talk, and Mrs. 
Harwood chimed in from time to time, but I was silent and only smiled. 

   Frustrated by my silence, finally Harwood looked at me, and said, "So,
Joanie.  Tell me about Navaserum." I knew of course this was coming, which
is why I had spent so much time spying on his company this morning.

   "What do you mean, Mr.  Harwood?" These were the first words I spoke at
the lunch, other than the initial hellos when I arrived.  "I understand it
is being developed to treat Alzehimer's disease.  Or is it Parkinson's?  I
forget."

   Harwood knew I had not forgot.  "How did you happen to hear about it?"
he said.  "We have been keeping it under wraps."

   "Oh, you know how it is," I said, feigning a Marilyn Monroe sort of
innocence.  "A girl hears things.  For example, you have my sympathy with
the problems you are having with your clinical trials in Senegal.  All
those deaths must be quite a set back."

   Harwood almost choked on his wine and turned bright red in the face. 
His wife looked concerned.  Philip looked confused.  I could not see my own
face, but I was trying to mimic Marilyn's Monroe's look of false naïve
innocence.  Harwood began to sputter.

   I said, looking at Philip, "This was a nice choice of restaurant.  The
vegetable puree is delicious." I turned my head towards Harwood's wife and
continued, "Don't you agree, Mrs.  Harwood?" I was the first person to
speak directly to her at the lunch.

   "Why yes, Joanie.  It is indeed." She paused a beat, and then said, "If
you do not mind, tell me please, where did you get that beautiful necklace?
It goes so well with your jacket.  I've been admiring it all during lunch,"
Mrs.  Harwood said.

   "Why thank you, that is so nice of you to notice.  Philip bought it for
me just this morning," I said, gently kicking Philip under the table. 
"It's from Bulgari."

   "I thought it was!" Mrs.  Harwood said.  "You never really know these
days; the knockoffs are getting to be such good replicas it is hard to
tell. But your necklace falls so beautifully and the stones are so lovely,
I felt it must be the real thing."

   "Yes.  Philip always insists on the best for me." I gave Philip another
gentle kick under the table.  "May I show you what else Philip got me?"

   "Oh yes, please!" Mrs.  Harwood said with enthusiasm.  Philip looked
worried.  He knew Bulgari was not cheap.

   I stood up and removed my jacket, revealing my blouse and a lot of boob,
due to my push up bra.  Then I slowly bent over letting the men look down
my blouse to see all the boob my bra did not hide, and since the bra hid a
minimal amount, that was most. 

   The bra pushed my boobs together.  They and were tightly embracing the
cross between them, and in fact they hid from view the bottom half of the
cross.  I had chosen the length of the gold chain precisely to make that
happen.  I slowly, sexily, pulled the cross up, out from between my
boobs. 

   Both Harwood and Philip were mesmerized as I did this.  Mrs.  Harwood
gave me an approving, and knowing smile.  She knew all about her asshole of
a husband, that was clear. 

   She enjoyed watching me tease him.  I think she admired my technique. 
If so, it was a big complement.  I knew she was something else, when
Harwood told me last night I was almost her equal.

   "It's beautiful my dear.  Do you wear it religiously, or just because
it's gorgeous?" Mrs.  Harwood remarked. 

   "It's complicated," I replied.  It was important for us to keep talking,
to shut Harwood out of the conversation.

   At this point Harwood was very frustrated.  I had dropped a bombshell
over the Senegal trials, and his wife's girl talk was preventing him from
following up.  Mrs.  Harwood was well aware of all this, I could tell, and
it seemed to me that she was enjoying frustrating the pig of a husband she
had."

   In addition, I now looked super sexy, having gone from attractive but in
a sterile sort of way, to very sexy, just by removing my jacket and pulling
out my cross.  I had planned the whole thing, of course, and it was working
perfectly. 

   I flamboyantly pushed the cross back down between my boobs.  I had both
Philip and Harwood in the palm of my hand. 

   I knew Harwood wanted to throw me down and fuck me silly and then beat
the information out of me, but that was hard to do in a high-end
businessman's restaurant in the presence of his wife.  I was actually safer
with her present than I was with Philip being there.  Not a good thought. 

   I continued my answer to Mrs.  Harwood by saying, "I was raised
Catholic." I looked at Philip and said, "Sometimes I sin.  Letting my
breasts fondle the cross eases the guilt." I gave my Marilyn Monroe false
innocence look.  Mrs.  Harwood barely managed to keep from laughing. 

   Mrs.  Harwood and I kept up girl banter for the rest of the lunch.  We
went off to the restrooms together and became fast friends, despite the age
difference.  Neither one of us liked Harwood; that was clear to me, and I
think it was also clear to her.  She realized I had let Harwood fuck me the
previous night as a favor to my wimp /pimp of a boyfriend Philip.  I hoped
she was not too judgmental.  Personally, I thought of myself as scum.

   When we returned to the table, the men stood up for us again, and I
quickly took Philip's seat, so that Mrs.  Harwood and I could continue
talking, now tête-à-tête.  Harwood never did get the chance to try to
find out how much I knew, or how I knew it, about the clinical trials in
Senegal.

   I had an answer prepared, about a graduate student from Senegal whom I
knew, and who had a relative in Senegal with Alzheimer's.  The Senegalese
are not stupid, even if I am sure Harwood dismissed the entire country,
since it was poor and African.  They had figured out what was going on with
the clinical trials.  But this was a fabrication and I was glad not to have
to use it. 

   Harwood had been faking the data.  Too many people had died as a side
effect of Navaserum, so it would never pass muster with the FDA.  It was
too bad, actually, because for those who did not die from it, it was fairly
helpful.  If it were approved based on fake data, and it got out that the
data had been faked, and a significant number of people died from the drug,
then the company, and Harwood himself, would be ruined. 

   He was stupid.  He had to know that eventually it would be clear people
were dying from the drug.  Then the company would be sued into oblivion. 
Why was he doing this?  All of a sudden I had another epiphany and knew why
he was doing it.  Wow, this guy had no soul. 

   He was going to leak the fake data at the right time, to goose up the
stock price.  Then he would sell a bunch of shares, and only after he had
the money safely stashed in the Cayman Islands, would the data be
corrected. Harwood liked the Cayman Islands as the place to do his
financial skullduggery.  I knew this from my computer espionage.

   There would be a well-paid Senegalese fall guy.  Harwood would get tons
richer.  Philip would get more money to invest.

   He would have to do it cleverly, since it would be insider trading.  But
this is why we have Panama, the Cayman Islands, Luxembourg, and the like.
And to be sure, he did not care who died from the drug in the process.

   Harwood was sweating.  He was clearly under stress.  This girl talk
preventing my interrogation was torture to him.  As we finished out
desserts, and then our coffees, I looked at my watch.  "Oh my!" I said. 
"I'm so sorry, I have to run.  I have an appointment and I must leave now
or I'll be late.  Please carry on, though."

   I turned to Philip, "Have a cognac for me, darling." The "darling" was
sarcastic, even caustic, and Philip knew it. 

   Mrs.  Harwood knew exactly what I was doing and it was clear that not
only did she approve of it; she was enjoying seeing her husband suffer at
my hand.  I left the restaurant and a thoroughly confused Philip, and the
doorman got me a taxi, and I told him "Parc Monceau," and we sped off. 

   In the taxi I removed my bra, to the surprise of the driver.  But he did
not comment.  I muttered something about it being uncomfortable.  I needed
a release after the trial of that lunch. 

   The lunch had gone even better than I had hoped, but it had taxed me a
lot, and I had a growing headache.  I figured the calm of a Parisian park,
along with a little harmless exhibitionism, would go a long way to
restoring my equilibrium.

   The cross now hung between my bare breasts, caressing them with the
bouncing of the cab over the Parisian cobblestone streets.  I liked it.  I
had quietly pocketed some bread at the restaurant, and at the park I fed
crumbs of the bread to the pigeons.  I became very popular, very quickly,
with the pigeons.  I would bend over sometimes to feed them, giving anyone
who cared a nice look at my entire boobs, nipples included, and the cross
between them. 

   A fair number of men strolling through the park or sitting on the
benches seemed to enjoy my antics and several of them smiled at me.  As I
did this, Bob Dylan's old song "Quinn the Eskimo" kept running through my
head.  The people at the party the previous evening were the pigeons, and
they were all going to run to me.  I had the drug they needed, and it was
my unavailable body. 

   Happy and carefree after a bit of this, I went to the Arc de Triomphe
and went to the top, and looked out over the grand avenues of the right
bank.  The wind whipped my blouse all over, and I enjoyed it flapping
against my braless boobs. 

   A handsome tourist, clearly also American, was near me, so I dropped my
pen and bent over to pick it up, giving him a nice view of my boobs.  I
caught him looking and gave him a nice smile.  He was a few years older
than I was.

   His name was Mike, the name of my other boyfriend and true love, whom I
now refer to as the philandering bastard.  We left the Arc de Triomphe
together and went to a matinee movie on the Champs ElysÃ(C)es.  We sat in
the back row.

   Just before the matinee, I took him to a cafÃ(C), saying I had to use
the restroom.  We went to the bar in order to be customers so that we would
be authorized to use the restrooms.  Standing at the counter, I ordered a
"Calvados, double." This was a double shot of apple brandy from Normandy. 

   My tourist Mike just ordered a coffee.  The calvados, plus the copious
amount of wine I had consumed at lunch, gave me the buzz I needed to do
what I wanted to do with Mike.  After the drink, we went to the theater.

   He was not like my Mike and did not try anything with me.  I was
disappointed.  He actually watched the movie.  After around 10 minutes, he
tentatively reached over and held my hand.  This is ridiculous, I
thought. 

   I leaned over and gave him a big kiss on his lips, open mouth, tongues
intertwined, the works.  That gave him an infusion of courage, and he
kissed back and his hands finally moved to my breasts.  He fondled them
through my thin, silky blouse.  This went on for quite a while. 

   Then he decided to take a risk.  I could see his brain working.  He
lifted up my blouse and slipped his hand under it.  I smiled and so he
moved his hand up and began to fondle my boobs.  I sighed, and squirmed a
little in my seat.  I whispered, "Go for it," into his ear.

   He looked around nervously.  We were alone in the back row and everyone
was watching the movie.  It was a good movie, I was sorry to be missing it.
Then he pushed my blouse up to my neck and got an eyeful of my boobs and
the Maltese cross.  (The Bulgari necklace had long ago been stored in my
purse.)

   I reached up and took my blouse off.  This really surprised him, but
then he smiled.  He began to suck on my nipples.  After what seemed a long
time, he realized that I also had a body below the waist, and finally stuck
his hands under my skirt.  I had panty hose on, so I stood up, topless and
with my boobs and my cross dangling about, and removed both my panty hose
and my panties, and sat back down and kissed him passionately. 

   Now emboldened after my brazen display, he pushed my skirt up around my
waist and began to finger me.  I was now naked except for the line of the
skirt around my waist.  This was a movie experience he was not going to
forget.  Nor was I. 

   I reached over and unzipped his pants to let out his erect cock and I
began to stroke it.  This got his attention all right.  He picked me up out
of my seat.  I am small and thin and don't weigh much, and he was quite
muscular, so it seemed effortless when he did it.

   He sat me down on his lap facing him.  My legs were wide apart as I
straddled him, my skirt was bunched up around my waist, and I was naked
above my waist.  I kissed him as he played with my boobs.  We did this for
a while, and then he lifted me up and placed me down on his cock.

   My God, I had just met this guy at the top of the Arc de Triomphe an
hour ago, and now we were fucking in a movie theater on the Champs
ElysÃ(C)es.  Wow.  Several men turned around and saw us.  Two of them got
up and moved to the back row so they could watch us go at it full time.  My
boobs were bouncing around as was my cross as I myself bounced up and down
on his cock.  He was very strong.

   A nice looking man came over and sat in the seat next to us.  I smiled
at him as I bounced up and down on Mike's cock.  He smiled at me, and
reached for one of my boobs.  He had trouble grabbing it since I was
bouncing all around. 

   I stopped bouncing an started fucking Mike in a circular motion that
stimulated my clitoris nicely.  This allowed the man next to me to fondle
my boobs to his heart's content, which he did.  He unzipped and let his
erect cock out.

   I gave him somewhat of a hand job as I continued to fuck Mike.  I was
thoroughly enjoying myself. 

   We went at it through a lot of noisy scenes in the movie.  I think on
the screen a war was going on.  In the back row, though, it was all sex.  I
felt the tension gradually build, and then it hit: a really nice orgasmic
release.  It was exactly what I needed.  Shortly thereafter Mike shot his
load into me. 

   I kept up with the hand job, and after a few more minutes the man next
to me stood up and squirted his load onto my boobs.

   All done, Mike held me, pushing my boobs into his shirt and stroking my
back and kissing my shoulders.  It was nice.  The other man smiled at me
and without saying a word got up and returned to his seat.  I noticed he
had come with a date.  I had no idea what he told her!  Maybe he claimed he
needed the bathroom and was constipated.  Who knows?

   After a while of cuddling with Mike, I rose, let my skirt fall down, and
quickly put my blouse back on.  I pulled up my panties, but left my
pantyhose off, and put them in my purse, next to the Bulgari necklace.  The
YSL suit jacket was there too, getting horribly wrinkled no doubt. 

   Then I snuggled up to him and we watched the rest of the movie.  After
the movie we left

   the theater holding hands, and strolled together on the
Champs-ElysÃ(C)es.  I saw the man and his date leave the theater, and his
date was not only pretty and sexy, she was hanging all over him.  Why he
needed my hand job, I have no idea.  But men are like that. 

   This anonymuos fuck in the movie theater was just what I needed, I
realized, to deal with the betrayal of Philip, the gangbang, and the total
humiliation I suffered at the hands of Harwood and the other rich
misogynist creeps. 

   I left my movie theater lover, and we kissed goodbye as I hailed a taxi.
He was disappointed, having wanted to continue the sex in his hotel room,
perhaps with his travelling buddy he said, but I went back alone to my own
hotel.  He wanted my name and how he could reach me back in the States.  He
got neither.

   At the hotel I found a frantic Philip who was worried sick about me.  I
just smiled, and said I'm fine.  I had applied a lot of perfume in the taxi
to hide the smell of sex. 

   "I need to be alone for a while," I told Philip.  "What you did was
pretty low.  How about I see you at dinner.  Make a reservation somewhere
and I'll meet you in the lobby at 8pm." 

   Actually, I was feeling good.  My movie theater fuck somehow seemed like
revenge on Philip.  It was nuts, because Philip clearly didn't care who
fucked me, how many of them did, or how often they did it the previous
night, so why should he care if I had seduced an innocent tourist into a
matinee fuck? 

   Somehow I knew he would think the two types of fucks were different.  In
his mind, it would be that one was business, while the other was
cheating. 

   Truth be told, I don't know what he thought.  Mike never seemed to care
if I slept around, and he and Philip were cut from the same cloth.  But
thinking he cared, and having betrayed him under that assumption, made me
feel good just then.  Indeed, it was precisely why I had seduced that
innocent tourist. 

   The rest of the French part of the trip was much less eventful.  I
indulged in some playful exhibitionism, and Philip and I played tourists in
France, a great country to be a tourist in.  My knowledge of French came in
handy at times.  There was no sex.  Not even close.  I was little Ms. 
Iceberg.

   Towards the end of the French part of the trip I let Philip seduce me
again.  He began to get happy after he had his way with me, and he took me
to the beaches on the French Riviera on an impulse.  There he pressured me
into going topless, which was okay because a fair number of French women
were also topless. 

   Philip bought me a micro bikini to wear at the beach.  The top just
barely covered all of my areolas, and the bottom was so skimpy it barely
covered my mound.  When I went topless in that suit, I was practically
naked.  Hell, I was practically naked in that suit with the top on!  The
bottom tied together with strings, so if one pulled a string, it would fall
off.

   One day while I was sun bathing topless, Philip pulled the string and
removed my bottoms.  I knew he would do that sooner or later.  It was
irresistible to someone like him.  This was not cool: I was worried I'd be
arrested.  But as it turned out, nobody seemed to care.  I lay there on the
beach completely nude.  I couldn't believe it.  I became insanely wet. 

   Men walked by and checked me out.  All of me.  One of them licked his
lips and winked at me. 

   When we left the beach, I put on my cover-up over my bikini.  It was a
soft blue and was transparent, so one could see my bikini and the rest of
me easily right through it.  As we walked back to the hotel, I got a lot of
looks. 

   It seems it is OK to be almost naked on the beach, and even as I
discovered actually to be naked, but to parade around the town in a micro
bikini with a transparent cover-up is some kind of exhibitionism.  It's
somehow sexier.  I don't understand it, but I know it's true.  Somehow it
is context.

   When we entered the hotel elevator Philip removed the cover up, pulled
the strings and my suit fell off.  I was naked and quickly put the cover-up
back on.  But all of me was on display anyway.  I had to walk virtually
naked from the elevator to our room.  Then he threw me on the bed and
ravished me.  We were back to normal and damn it, I was happy.

   I wrote out postcards to Odessa, who was still in Paris with Steve, and
to my sister Sarah, and then fell into a blissful sleep.  For Sarah I chose
a postcard that showed women topless on the beach.  She would doubtless
connect the dots.

   I had forgiven Philip, finally.  I had made him promise never to do
anything like that again.  I dreamed in my erotic sleep that we had run
into Mike at the beach, accompanied by a topless tart, and I left Philip to
have a three-way.  Philip jerked off, alone in his hotel room.  None of
that happened, but I was ready to return to the States.

   I had forgotten that we were still going to Switzerland.  I checked
Facebook on my cell phone and discovered my other true love Mike was now
sampling the girls of Switzerland.  He had laid a French Swiss girl and an
Italian Swiss girl, and was now going for a German Swiss girl in Zurich. 

   We were about to go directly to Zurich.  We would meet Steve and Odessa
there.  I idly wondered if I would run into Mike there, too.  Zurich is not
a big city, but it is big enough to make it unlikely I would see Mike. 
However the tourist parts of Zurich could not be that big, I thought to
myself, and that increased the odd of running into Mike.  Interesting times
awaited me.

   I had never experienced Mike and Philip in the same place.  Being in
love with two men, themselves cousins, can get complicated, I thought to
myself.  On top of that, I was not sure either of them loved me in the way
I wanted to be loved. 

   What happened in Zurich is a story in and of itself.