European Secrets (Madrid - Vol. One)

European Secrets

Madrid – Vol. 1

By Ana Vela

© 2013 Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of
this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in
any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or
other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written
permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses
permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the
products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious
manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
actual events is purely coincidental.

This story is intended for
mature adults only. It contains sexual scenarios, dirty language,
hot action, and much more! Please store your digital files where
they cannot be accessed by minors.

~Madrid: Vol. 1 ~

“
So
it’s finalized, then? Four men in four cities? Four encounters?”
Annie sat at her desk overlooking Georgetown. She scribbled notes
as she spoke with her agent, considering the possibilities of
sexual anonymity. An engineered adventure with four muses, all
fruit for her inspiration. She needed lust, and she needed the
unknown. And perhaps she needed to test the barriers of what she
thought she wanted. Doubt still crept its fingers around the
frontier of her decision-making.

“
And
you’re sure these guys are all legit and attractive? Sorry to sound
so shallow, but they have to be.” Her eyes darted around the
office. Her door was open, leading to a shared hallway. Hopefully
no one had heard her blunt discrimination. Or discovered the extra
help her agent was giving her under the radar.

“
Yes, it’s all arranged. Four encounters in four cities.
They’re all expecting the call when you arrive. The first will be a
massage therapist in Madrid. You can still back out. Just make up
your mind quick. You’ve got to be sure you want to do this. And if
this fucks with your head, remember it was your idea. I’m happy to
help if it means you write another book that sells that many
copies.”

Annie laughed at her tone. “I’m a big girl, Kate. I want
this. Maybe I’ll fuck them all. I don’t know yet, but it’s
definitely going to help me write my next book. No one will know
who I am there, anyway. Christ, no one knows who I am
anyway
. God bless
pseudonyms.”

Kate snorted. “Well,
we’ll see how you feel after the first one. See if you verify my
assumptions on the type of men you like. Or you think you like. I
have some backups.”

“
Backups?” Annie’s ears pricked up at the extra flexibility.
At more opportunity. The plan was promising, but had its risks and
potential for disaster.

“
I
know a lot of men, Annie. Don’t ask me how.”

“
Are
they all local to each city?” She heard footsteps pass along the
hallway and lowered her voice.

“
I
can’t say. Remember this is about the
unknown
. I’m not going to spoil it
for you. Don’t self-destruct before you’ve begun this...this
adventure you’ve persuaded me to engineer for you. And remember you
get the expense bill.” She laughed and sighed, then slurped coffee
in Annie’s ear.

“
You’re paying these guys? I said I didn’t want escorts. I
feel filthy just thinking about it. And you’re damn sure these guys
aren’t creepy? Not batemen-in-waiting?”

“
I’m
not a pimp. No. I’m talking travel expenses, within the budget you
agreed. None of them is creepy. A little kinky, some of them, but
not creepy. Trust me, I
know
them, or they’re very close friends of people I
know. Like I said before, someone will know where you are every
time.”

“
I
trust you. So Madrid is about being pampered, I guess. What about
the other three themes?” She thumbed through her notebook, looking
for notes she’d scrawled earlier. “The novel is in four
parts.
Pampered, Spoiled for Choice,
Lured
and...
Bound
.”

“
They’ll be revealed, Annie…”

**********

“
Welcome to Madrid! Vacaciones?” The cab driver’s broken
English carried over the radio’s flamenco music as he drove fifteen
miles above the speed limit through the late afternoon traffic.
Annie was wary from jet lag but wired from airplane coffee. She
gripped the worn leather of the back seat as a sharp turn down
another cobbled backstreet threw her sideways.

“
No,
I’m here to write. I’m a writer. Just here for three days.” Her
voice sounded scratched in her ears, and her eyes, still dry from
the eight-hour flight, squinted in the harsh sunlight. Her feet
ached, and she longed for a mattress. Just an hour to
rest.

“
Ah!
A writer? Muy bien! You are
so
beautiful...you are married?”

Ugh. The marriage
question. She still heard it. “No, I’m single.” She fumbled for a
rapid change of conversation, too tired to find the patience to
explain her marital status to a Spanish cab driver. “Is it usually
so hot this time of day?”

“
Of
course! It’s July! Always hot! But you can relax with some
sangria…” He peered at her in the rear-view mirror, and she worried
he’d lose sight of the traffic veering in out of lanes on both
sides of the cab. Sangria...that sounded right. And to change out
of the travel clothes that did nothing to keep her cool from the
blistering heat. The cab came to an abrupt halt outside a hotel.
Iron-railed balconies fronted tall windows and terracotta tiles
sloped down the roof. A man with a thick moustache and leathered
skin stood by a gated courtyard out front, and wandered over to
greet her as the cab neared the curb.

The smell of floral
shrubbery hit her as she followed the man inside. The lobby was
lined with bright flowers blooming over heavy vases on wire console
tables. Nothing looked newer than twenty-five years old, except the
young man who winked at her as she checked in. Her hotel room was
simple but comfortable, with a brass-framed bed sitting in the
center of a small bedroom and a tiny kitchen behind closet doors.
She felt a sudden rush of excitement at the realization that she’d
arrived. Alone and free in a new city with a date already planned.
It could lead anywhere. As her heart raced and her fingers twitched
with a blend of nerves and excitement, she felt inspiration flow
from her head, and somewhere in her stomach. A fluttering. Her
novel’s character was already forming, and the plot began to shape
itself as each moment passed.

The bed was hard but
welcomed her tired body, and Latin music from street cafes wafted
in through the bedroom window, along with a hint of cigar smoke.
She reached for her cell phone and braced herself for roaming
charges.

“
Kate? I’m here!”

“
You
made it! How was the flight?” Her agent sounded tired but happy to
hear her voice.

“
Fine, thanks. Relieved to be here. So this is still
on?”

“
Yes, he’s expecting you in an hour. He’s smoking hot...your
type. I’ve known him a while. He’s happy to play the game. He’s
seen your photo. Call him Pedro.”

The scenario was so
tempting, so enticing. A stranger. No strings attached. And all in
the name of research. Life experience transcribed to paper, with
words spilling forth as she was still reeling from a stranger’s
touch.

“
That sounds about perfect. If he’s that hot, I can’t wait.”
She twirled a lock of dark brown hair around her finger and
considered what to wear. Her pulse raced with a blend of tiredness
and excitement. She padded over to the bathroom and hesitantly
turned the dial of the electric shower, convinced she would
electrocute herself. The water was tepid, missing the reek of
chlorine she was used to. She was
really
in Spain. Writing could wait
until tomorrow: the rest of the day was dedicated to some sensual
field research.

An
hour later she stepped out onto the dusty street in a thin floral
dress and flip-flops. Her cab passed endless roundabouts and old,
imposing government buildings that gave way to more cobbled back
streets and small plazas. Pedro’s office sat at the top floor of a
stone apartment block, overlooking a park lined with trees, in the
old quarters of the city. The door stood open, and she walked into
a tiled hallway that immediately sheltered her from the waning
afternoon heat. A rickety wire elevator begrudgingly lifted her to
the top floor. She bit her lip, hoping he spoke a little English,
and she wouldn’t have to embarrass herself with her limited
Spanish.

“
Hello? Hola?” She rapped lightly on the door until he
appeared. She was immediately relieved and tempted by how
attractive he was. He smiled broadly as he let his eyes linger over
her and motioned her inside.

How
does Kate know this guy?
She asked
herself, silently. His thick black hair. His cheekbones. The way
his shirt clung to his chest. She already wanted him.

“
Hello Annie. I’ve been expecting you. Come in, please.” His
voice was soft and low; warm and friendly but reserved.

She
smiled and stepped into the hallway, already blushing.
Relax
, she ordered
herself. His angular jaw was lined with four o’clock shadow and his
eyes were dark brown; almost black as they looked at her. He
pointed to a room at the end of the hallway, and she thought of his
warm hands on her.

“
Five minutes, OK?” He guided her into the room with his hand
on her back and left her to undress. She stopped a moment, suddenly
unnerved that her plan had become a reality. She felt a flash of
doubt at the morality of it, followed by a blend of arousal and
guilt as she peeled off her dress and lay on the table. She was
exposed in just her panties under a white towel, waiting for a
stranger to touch her.
My mother would not
approve
, she told herself wryly, and the
thought only encouraged her.

She heard the shake of
a bottle and curled her toes. He stood at the side of the table,
with only his waist and crotch within her line of vision. The scent
of his musky, amber cologne hung in the room, blended with the
floral citrus scent of massage oil. She closed her eyes and felt
another pang of guilt as she realized she was already wet from his
sudden proximity. His hands were warm, slow, and sure of
themselves. He moved in firm, fluid strokes over her back and
shoulders, slowly teasing out the tension of travel. His long
fingers moved along her neck, digging lightly and moving in short,
circular movements. He worked over every crease and tired muscle
until she felt limp and serene with relief. His fingertips kneaded
between her neck and shoulders, brushing the top of her breasts as
they reached under and swept over the skin of her chest.

“
Is
this OK, Annie?” He asked in a lilt, brushing his hands over her
lower back and digging his palm into the muscles along her spine.
She liked the way he pronounced her name, soft and drawn out. “Yes,
it’s perfect, thank you.”

She stole another
glance at the part of him within her line of vision. Black pants
that sat low on his hips and a fitted shirt that lay flat over his
toned stomach. Tan skin under rolled cuffs, as his fingers worked
deeper into her waist. He lifted her arms to lie parallel to her
head, and began to work his way up the side of her torso, sweeping
the sides of her breasts. She let out a sigh and immediately
blushed, knowing it revealed how much she was enjoying his touch.
He laughed softly and suggestively. His touch grew lighter, slower,
and her spine tingled. He brushed her breasts once more...testing,
perhaps. She sighed again; a subtle but notable answer to his
query.

As she glanced at him
she swore he was hard, but he moved too fast for her to be sure. He
lowered his hands to the top of her thighs, and began to work in
firm strokes, edging toward the seam of her underwear beneath the
towel. As his fingers swept deeper between her thighs, she spread
slightly, and his movement slowed. His caress ignited her, and she
suddenly felt bolder as the desire to be touched further loosened
her reserve.