She Shouldnt, But She Will (17 page)
Read She Shouldnt, But She Will Online
Authors: Francis Drake
“That was a surprise to me too. I liked it.” He worked his finger in and out and she widened the space between her legs. “Yeah, baby.”
“You can fuck me any time you want.”
“How about in
“Well, not in a place that public.”
He caressed the tight bud of her center, spreading her juices, streaking a path from pussy to clit with the hot liquid.
“I guess so long as we don’t get arrested.”
“So, public is okay. How about right here?”
When had she closed her eyes? About the time Derek speared her with his finger and she lost herself in a haze of erotic sensation. Now she opened them. People milled around. The auction continued but naked women with chains hooked to neck collars followed couples like puppies. The man and woman on the nearby bench had been joined by another man, who worked the woman’s ass even while she was still impaled on the first man’s cock. Who among these would give her and Derek more than a glance?
She nodded her acquiescence. Derek removed his hand and adjusted his trousers to expose his cock, throbbing and tumescent in the pale light. He covered himself and lifted her onto his lap, her back to his front. With a strong arm supporting her waist, he bent her and fitted himself to her with the sureness of a long-time lover. Their minds might have known each other a short time, but their bodies were old friends.
Thia purred. Behind her Derek’s ragged breathing and low grunt with each thrust added to the tension building in her belly and the salacious scenes before her. Her breasts juggled with each drive Derek made. The squishy, wet slap their bodies made as they connected and the realization others were watching them sent her blood to a fever pitch.
The hour was late—how long had they been at the estate? How many times had she and Derek fucked? Enough so she smelled him on her skin, sweated him through her pores. Tasted him when she licked her lips. She licked them now, and remembered the salty, exotic taste of his cum and the lingering hint of champagne. She moaned, so close to coming. The edge of the cliff was just there, just out of reach. Derek quickened the pace.
Through half-lidded eyes, she viewed the world that had become hers for the evening. Everywhere, men and women stroked, caressed and explored bodies of the people nearest them. There seemed to be no reasoning to some of it. The auctioneer on the platform spread a slave’s butt cheeks and cupped her mound as he took bids. A Medieval woman in translucent gown gave head to a man in an astronaut costume. A woman wearing a nun’s habit sucked cock of a Friar while a man dressed as Pan fucked her from behind.
How did they look to others, in their cocky red kerchiefs, flowing tops and masks? Long John Silver wielding his sword with his own Pirate Sin. Using sure strokes, he impaled her with its length, sliding out and thrusting home again, its surface—could she see it—glistening with her juices. No other pirate king ever took Sin for such a ride.
And always, always, silk rippled over her nipples and fur tantalized her thighs as Derek’s steely cock plundered her pussy. Harder now, faster.
The moan tore from her. Derek reached with his free hand, covering her mouth and giving her a finger to suck. Fireworks shot off from her pussy and exploded behind her closed eyelids. Her muscles contracted around Derek’s dick, pulling him into her, to become one with her, and through her haze she felt him pulse, letting go just as she had. He gasped for air, his forearm holding her like a band of steel, his forehead pressed into her back.
It took long minutes before either of them could move. “Sin?”
“Hmm?”
“That was—”
“Incredible,” she finished.
“Yes.” With trembling arms he lifted her off his lap.
Her legs wobbled but she managed to straighten her clothing before sinking next to him on the bench. The scene before her hadn’t changed, but without Derek beating his steady rhythm inside her, she observed the overriding eroticism surrounding them.
“I feel so strange being here.”
His arm draped across her shoulders. “Why?” He had fastened his trousers and disposed of the condom somehow.
“It’s so carnal, everywhere you look. And these people take it all in stride.” She shivered and he snuggled her, lending her his warmth.
“Part of it is the mask. Just covering the eyes this much gives a sense of anonymity, and people will do amazing things if they think they won’t be discovered. Some of it is alcohol—you know how it loosens people’s tongues and inhibitions. And then there’s the group mentality. If one person in a group does something, others see it as having permission to act the same. Those things combined give you something like a woman dressed as Raggedy Ann—” Derek pointed back to one of the tents “—giving BJs to three guys, only one of whom is Raggedy Andy, presumably the guy she came with.”
They sat silently for a few minutes. The night air cooled as the auction ended.
Thia rested her head on Derek’s shoulder. His hand lazily stroked her arm and her eyes drifted shut. “Did you have a good night?”
His chuckle warmed her. “After what we did a few minutes ago you have to ask?”
“No, I mean, you know, the other thing.”
“Yes. Did you?”
She sighed. “A Sin-fully good night.”
He laughed outright then pushed her to a sitting position. “Looks like the party’s about over. Come on, let’s find our cloaks. Getting to the yacht will be chilly.”
They followed several couples into the house. With remarkable speed, cloaks were matched to costumes and guests departed the house for the dock.
She must have slept on the trip back to the city, because before she knew it, Derek’s voice let her know they’d docked.
Thia stood and followed Derek off the yacht and up to The Embarcadero street. On the way he whispered “I have plans for that ass of yours.”
“Promises, promises.”
He laughed. “Honey, I always keep my promises.”
* * * *
Monday morning, July closed Thia’s office door and leaned against it. “I called you every half hour starting at
Saturday to invite you to a picnic on Sunday. No answer. Then you come in here looking like the product of a seven-day bender. Okay spill, girl. What were you doing this weekend?”
Thia stumbled to her desk and deposited her briefcase. She ached all over, even in deliciously strange places she didn’t know a person could ache. “Nothing. What do you mean ‘looking like a seven day bender?’”
“Well the sunglasses in the office are new and you usually wear matching shoes. I don’t mean shoes that match your suit, either, I mean shoes that match each other.”
Thia looked down, “Shit, how could I?” She took a breath and looked up at July—who looked rather rosy through her sunglasses—and smiled. “At least they’re both brown.”
“Actually one is closer to tan. This doesn’t look like
nothing
. Have you started heavy drinking?”
“Of course not. I only had a few drinks all weekend.”
“Well, then you’re getting sick. If you continue to stick to this ‘nothing’ story, I’m calling your doctor.”
“Well, it
was
nothing. Until Saturday afternoon.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Rubbing her hands together gleefully, July took a seat in front of Thia’s desk. “What happened Saturday afternoon?”
“Derek took me to a party. It was wild and wooly and lasted until the wee hours. Do you know how long it’s been since I went to a party that lasted until early morning?” And she’d never been to a party like the one at the Oglethorpe estate, regardless of the time she went home. “Because it was so late, he took me to his boat and, we spent Sunday together.” In bed. Having sex in at least nine positions in the
Kama Sutra
.
“I thought you weren’t going to see him again.”
She began unpacking her briefcase and wished she’d stopped for her usual coffee. Supersized. “I did too. But, I don’t know. There was something compelling me to go. Derek makes me feel safe and gives me a sense of belonging that I have never felt before.”
“He’s obviously put a spell on you. That doesn’t explain why you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
How much could she tell and not say much? “Like I said, we got in very early Sunday and went to bed immediately, but not to sleep, despite our intentions.
“Later, Derek took me out to eat at a great little place.” The Greasy-Spoon was close enough they wouldn’t waste much time getting back to bed, and the high-carb food gave them a needed burst of energy.
“Then, a bit later, he took me home.” He dropped her off at six that morning before rushing to his own apartment to shower and dress for work. She didn’t think they’d spent much more than six hours asleep, but she had his body memorized right down to the mole at the base of his spine. Just thinking about him brought the scent of sex to her nostrils and tingling along her nerve ends.
“And here I am.”
July snorted, not buying any of it, evidently. “When you’re ready to tell the truth, I can’t wait to hear it.” She stood. “But right now, I think you need some high-test caffeine.” She hustled for the door.
“You’re a woman among women, July. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
* * * *
A week later, Derek called in his head of research. “Sit down, Guthrie. What have you found out about the ship
Natant Revel
and the house I told you about last Monday?”
“The house and the ship are owned by a corporation registered in Malta. Corporate ownership is buried but I’m working on it. Through the agent on Malta I was able to uncover some of the corporation’s finances, and it is extremely well-funded. There is a trust with nearly ten billion in investments and about one hundred million in cash. Obviously, the Oglethorpes must play some role in the operation, but how they fit into the corporate structure is still a mystery. The ship seems to make a run from here to Russia every couple of months, porting in Vladivostok.”
“What do they do in Vladivostok?”
“Their customs paperwork says they’re on pleasure trips.” Guthrie sorted through the papers on the conference table. “The corporation was formed in 1954 when it acquired both the house and its first ship, the
Freedom First
. That is also when the trust was formed and the trips to Vladivostok started. They commissioned the
Natant Revel
in 1973, and it is now their sole yacht.”
“Did you see the names Sylvester and Lilly Oglethorpe any where?”
“A Sylvester Oglethorpe owned the house before the Maltese corporation bought it in 1954. I haven’t been able to find out who currently owns it, though I assume the Oglethorpes do. The staff is small. A head gardener and housekeeper stay on premises. Supporting staff are boated in and out daily. The property is bordered on the east by
“Is there any cash transferred out of the Maltese corporation?”
Guthrie nodded. “Transferred to a numbered Swiss account, and the trail ends there.”
“When was the last time the ship was here in San Francisco?”
“It was briefly docked at the
“Do you know what happens at the house when the Oglethorpes are gone?”
“No. In addition to access by boat, the staff sometimes uses a 4-wheel drive and a fire access road through the park. But activity is generally quiet when the Oglethorpes aren’t in residence. There are several phone lines. Would you like them bugged?”
“Yes, but only if we can do it discreetly. The authorities can’t be brought in to this.”
“I’ll keep digging into this corporation and into who actually owns the house.”
“Good. Let me know as soon as you hear something. I’ll be in LA until the end of next week but I’ll be available.”
“Very good.” Guthrie left the office quietly.
Derek buzzed his secretary. “Will you find Mr. Petrova and ask him to come in?”
Within minutes there was a knock on the door and Alex Petrova stuck his head in. “Yes sir, what can I do for you?”
“I need you to go to Vladivostok in about a week. Can you fit that into your schedule?”
Petrova thought for a few seconds. “Sure. What do you need me to do?”
“First, before you leave I’ll give you the name of a DEA contact there. In about two weeks, the ship
Natant Revel
will dock. I want to know what it is doing there, particularly what they pick up. They may be smuggling drugs or possibly Chinese girls to be sold. The ship is a yacht not a cargo ship so it may not be at the typical dock.”
“I’ll fly out next weekend.”
“Okay, keep me up-to-date.”
“Will do.” Petrova left and Michael Jackson arrived for his appointment.
“Have a seat.” Derek motioned to the chair fronting his desk. “What’s happening with the C&H case?”
“John Bates has received substantial cash deposits at irregular intervals. I have a tail on him but so far I haven’t found who’s paying him.”
“Cross reference when John received money and the
Natant Revel
was in the Bay area. Has C&H been able to correct the discrepancies?”
“Yes, that seems to be working fine.”
“Okay, though I think this has dragged on too long. I’ll be back from LA the end of the week. Let’s see if you’ve found any links by then. I’d like to close out the case and wrap up any ties to the Falkner case, too.”
“Yes, sir.”
When Jackson left, Derek sat back in his chair. The ties to an accounting firm in the city and drug smugglers across the Bay worried him. He should have latched onto more information than he had by now. But somehow, every time he tried to focus on what might be happening on that yacht and mansion, all he could envision was a raven-haired beauty with a pussy of liquid heat.