Читать книгу Promiscuous - R. Moreen Clarke - Страница 7

2005

The café was nearly empty at ten o’clock on a Tuesday morning. It was the slow time that falls between the bustle of morning latte and muffin traffic and the hurried rush of the lunchtime crowd. As she leisurely sipped her caffeine-infused mocha java latte and scoured the local newspaper, Deandra fit into neither of these categories. She stopped there several times a week after her five-mile morning run.

Tall and lean, she was a stunning woman with an olive complexion and greenish-blue eyes. All traces of the awkward teenager she’d once been were gone. Andie Moore had dyed her hair and changed her name in a determined effort to escape her past. Her thick sandy blond hair was pulled up into a ponytail and poked through the back hole of a green baseball cap as she bent over the society section of the paper, studying her subject with the intensity of a high-school senior cramming for her SATs. While she bought the paper regularly, only two sections garnered her attention: the society page and the business section. The society page told her what was happening and where for the local who’s who. The business section let her know who were the up-and-coming movers and shakers in town.

This day she made a mental note that it was the third time in six months she’d seen the name of Marshall James. On the second page of the business section was a photograph of him as he received an award for outstanding community contributions. He’d donated a very large sum of money to renovate the local gymnasium of the community center. Although it probably wasn’t the best picture of him, Deandra could still clearly see his strong jawline and warm smile, and more important, she immediately recognized the five-thousand-dollar Concord Saratoga diamond watch on his left wrist. The coffers were starting to run a little low and it was time to find another benefactor. Marshall James looked like he would fit the bill perfectly.

A shadow moved across her newspaper and she looked up to see a twenty-something dark Italian cutie standing next to her table. He had smoldering, dark eyes with long, thick lashes. “Scusami,” he began, and indicated the chair opposite her as though to join her.

In a glance Deandra took stock of him from head to toe. He was wearing a tight-fitting tank top, lightweight sweatpants, and well-worn joggers. If she were hornier this morning, it might be worth the ride, but at the moment she had much bigger fish to fry. She pointed to the seat opposite her. As soon as he sat down, she collected her newspaper and prepared to leave.

He grimaced as he watched her long, fit frame rise from her seat. Dressed in a green sports bra, white spandex running shorts, and a white thong providing a clear outline of her ass cheeks, Deandra was a toss-up between athletic sportswoman and sex kitten, all in one. She knew she had a body that men lusted after, and used it to her best possible advantage. Her potential suitor looked at her with a perplexed expression and spread his arms in the international gesture of misunderstanding.

Sunlight glinted off a silver key ring in his hand. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the Porsche insignia on his key ring. A quick scan around the parking lot revealed a gray Porsche 911 Carrera, and a change in Deandra’s afternoon plans. Perhaps this young man wasn’t quite the guppy she envisioned. She discreetly lowered her body back into the chair.

“Buongiorno,” she said, and smiled with a new appreciation for his potential as an afternoon playmate.

An hour later they were on their way to her apartment, so he could show his appreciation for her naked body. Paolo was lean and strong. As a long-distance runner, like Deandra, he had the stamina of a racehorse. He’d begun undressing her on the way up the steps to her third-floor apartment. She’d stopped in the stairwell and allowed him to pull her spandex tights down over her hips. His lips blazed a fiery trail across her satiny butt cheeks and his tongue snaked down the crack of her ass.

She grabbed the handrails to steady her weakened knees. As she neared the top steps, she’d bent over and put her ass in his face. Paolo eagerly obliged, and roughly dragged the only barrier between her and his hot, extremely long tongue—her white thong—down to her knees.

He spread her ass cheeks with his hands and slipped his tongue into her moist, wet pussy. Deandra purred in response. Neither seemed concerned that they were in the middle of a public stairwell. Paolo lapped her body juices like a thirsty man in the middle of the Nairobi Desert. When he replaced his tongue with his long, lean dick, Deandra’s mind was transported into another millennium. As strong as he was lean, he wrapped his arm under her rib cage and lifted her up off the stairs and carried her onto the top landing. The length of his ten-inch dick was still embedded deep in her pussy when he pressed her face against the closed door of her apartment and continued pounding her with solid, steady thrusts. The thumping of her body against the solid wood door finally brought a curious neighbor into the hallway below.

“What the hell is going on up there?” exclaimed the old man at the bottom of the stairway as he tried to peer into the darkened upper landing.

Deandra reached inside her bra and pulled out her apartment key. She leaned back away from the door, only far enough to slip the key in the lock. When she turned the handle, the door burst open from the weight of their bodies.

Paolo kicked the door closed with his heel and continued his plundering of newly discovered land. Still positioned behind her, he assisted her as she pulled her sports bra over her head. He cupped her large, voluptuous breasts in his hands and squeezed as though testing them for ripeness. He guided Deandra into the kitchen, where he pulled out a chair and sat down, pulling her into his lap.

Deandra screamed as the length of his extra long dick pushed up farther inside her body. He put his hands under her thighs and lifted her closer to his groin and eased the degree of pain she’d felt. It was soon apparent that Paolo was no novice in pleasing women, as he expertly slipped his hand between her open thighs and started stroking her clit.

Deandra jerked uncontrollably as she was overcome with orgasm after orgasm. Pinned on his dick, with his hands securely between her legs, there was no escape from the sensations he created. Wet, milky juices flowed from her body and gushed over Paolo’s long, lean fingers as he tweaked her clit. He then smeared the fluid across her breasts and across her open, panting lips.

He finally eased her off his lap and pulled her toward the couch. Deandra was relieved to be on her back for once, and opened her legs wide to welcome him back into her secret depths. Paolo eased between her legs once more and rode Deandra to several more climaxes before finally releasing his cum deep inside his newly charted territory. He stretched to his full height and flexed his muscles and smiled. He gestured toward the bathroom and indicated he wanted to shower before he left.

Deandra nodded her agreement and continued to lie on the couch, regaining her strength. She’d enjoyed her afternoon romp with Paolo; she hoped he’d show his appreciation for her time. When she heard the shower running, she fished his wallet out of his jeans. She found at least fifteen hundred-dollar bills and several 50s. She put the wallet, and the bills, back into his pocket and proceeded to her closet to retrieve a T-shirt.

Paolo emerged from the shower shortly thereafter and strode boldly and naked back into the living room. His hair was wet from the shower and its shiny, silken sheen reflected his use of her shampoo. His body was similarly covered with long, dark, fine hair, although there were thicker patches on his chest and pubic area. His face was handsome and he had dark piercing eyes. Adonis should have been so well put together.

After he dressed, he walked over to Deandra seated on the couch and planted a surprisingly gentle kiss on her lips. “Grazie, il mio amore,” he said as he reached for his wallet. He opened it, and seemed mildly surprised to see his money still intact. He pulled all the bills from his wallet and took one of the fifty-dollar bills out of the stack.

Deandra watched in silence. When he took the fifty off the top of that thick wad of bills, her heart sank. Did he think she was that cheap? Why should he pay her at all? Simply because she assumed he would reward her for her time and use of her body.

Paolo chuckled softly at the dismay evident on her face. He chucked her under her chin and pressed the wad of bills into her hand. The fifty-dollar bill he shoved in his front pocket. He said something in Italian, which was totally unintelligible to her, but it sounded so beautiful coming off his lips. Then with a wave and an “Arrivederci, bella,” he was gone.

Deandra gleefully counted the money he’d given her. She earned two thousand dollars for her afternoon adventure. Now she could afford to buy a new outfit for the art showing.

Deandra worked hard to remain well-connected, and it was one of those connections that came through with an invitation to a private viewing of a hot, new African-American artist at a local gallery. Her Internet research revealed Marshall James was a patron of African-American art. She was banking on James not missing this event.

Friday evening she dressed in a soft silk chiffon navy dress with a halter neckline and full skirt, cinched around the waist with a wide inset of pleated silk charmeuse. Matching leather navy high-heels complemented her understated look, saying sexy, not sluttish. She arrived at the gallery early to ensure she would have time to survey the premises for the best possible “happenstance” meeting. She flirted with several guests in attendance while keeping a sharp eye on the entrance. She knew it would not pay to pin all her hopes on his showing up and she needed a fallback plan.

When Marshall James stepped into the lobby of the Norton Museum of Art with a woman of obvious style and sophistication at his side, Deandra was only mildly surprised. She could not expect that a catch of his magnitude would be without a date, but disposing of the competition had become a hobby of hers. She quickly assessed the woman’s salt-and-pepper hair, which was coiffed to perfection. Simple diamond teardrop earrings bounced softly against her neck. Her flawless makeup brought out the rich tones in her caramel complexion. An elegant black designer dress sheathed her trim and petite figure. She oozed graciousness and class with every movement. Deandra took an immediate dislike to this interloper. However, her resolve to end up with him this evening was not in the least daunted by this development. She would have to choose her moment of introduction very carefully. Immersed in her plans for the evening, she did not hear anyone approach until a voice whispered in her ear.

“Careful, dear, your fangs are showing,” he said, and handed her a glass of red wine.

Deandra turned quickly and smiled slyly at the familiar face of Oliver Benson. They had been friends for several years and he was well versed in her predatory nature. She wasn’t in the least offended by his comment and laughed deliciously.

“It can’t be that obvious. I must be losing my touch,” she replied wickedly.

“Obvious only to me, darling. Is he on the menu tonight?” he asked, tipping his wineglass slightly in Marshall’s direction.

“Yes, I’m quite ravenous and he does look much better in person than in the photos I’ve seen of him,” she replied as she watched Marshall James from across the room.

Marshall was wearing a three-button black suit, complemented by a gray shirt with crisp white collar and French cuffs. Diamond and onyx cuff links matched the gold, diamond, and onyx ring on his ring finger. He was clean-shaven, with the exception of a neatly trimmed mustache. His attire screamed money and his demeanor projected class.

“He looks positively edible,” Deandra purred as she took a sip from her glass. “By the way, not that it matters, but who’s the old broad glued to his side?” she queried.

“Ah, that would be Viola. She’s looking elegant as usual this evening. Classy lady, and just to let you know, she will be quite a formidable opponent.”

“Really,” Deandra replied incredulously. She reassessed the woman who had now drifted away from Marshall’s side and was engaged in her own conversation with a few of the socialites in attendance. “I can’t imagine…” she mused.

“Viola James is no joke. Many beautiful women have not survived Viola’s inspection or gained her approval,” he advised.

“Approval? Viola James?” she pondered aloud as the name tried to register in her brain.

“She’s his mother, darling, and she can smell a gold digger a mile away. Be careful,” he cautioned, and wandered off.

Deandra’s gaze narrowed reflectively as she contemplated the best way to get Marshall away from his mother’s clutches and into her bed before the night was over.

Two hours into the evening Deandra had yet to wangle an opportunity to meet Marshall. Each time she managed to get within shouting distance, he was pulled away in another direction. Time was winding down and her feet were beginning to ache. She took a moment to slip into the corridor near the rear entrance and massage her aching feet. She leaned on the wall and slipped off one of her sandals. Balanced on her left foot, she massaged the ball of her right foot with her free hand and held on to her shoe with the other. Unexpectedly, a door opened behind her and bumped her just enough to unbalance her and send her careening face-first into the opposite wall. Flailing helplessly, she tried to prevent her body from crashing into the wall. Suddenly her arm was grabbed from behind and she was snatched from near disaster and landed smack in the arms of Marshall James.

At once angry and relieved, she started to let out a stream of expletives until she realized upon whose solid chest she was resting. Any and all sharp retorts were suddenly swallowed.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he eased her away and allowed her to lean on his arm as she put her shoe back on.

“I’m fine. Thanks to you. I didn’t realize I was standing in front of a door until it opened.” She smiled and inhaled a deep breath of the most delicious cologne. Tingling sensations started inside her thighs. This is going to be so good, she thought.

He extended his hand to her. “I’m Marshall, and you are?” he asked. Her obvious beauty was not lost on him.

“Deandra Morgan, pleased to meet you,” she replied easily, and slipped her hand into his. His palm was soft and his handshake firm. Her hand lingered in his a moment more and then she casually looked away. “Are you familiar with the artist?” she asked.

“Actually, not really. I saw the painting sample included in the invitation and my curiosity was piqued, you might say,” he replied. The understated dress did not fool him. This woman radiated sex appeal no matter how hard she tried to mask it. He’d seen her watching him from afar most of the evening and wondered when she would make her move.

“Mine, too, peaked, I mean,” she replied, and looked directly into his eyes. There was no mistaking the double entendre of her words, or the naked desire in her eyes. A fierce throbbing was starting and she could feel her body growing moist in anticipation.

Marshall took in the appealing package in front of him, from her healthy olive-toned skin to her long and sexy legs, which did not seem to stop. The deep V-neck of the halter top dress displayed just enough cleavage to be enticing and let the viewer know her soft, full breasts were homegrown—not factory made. The excitement of the moment was causing her nipples to strain firm and rigid against the thin chiffon of her dress. Marshall, too, felt the thrill of anticipation in his loins. In his mind’s eye he was already deep between her thighs and hard at work.

Reluctantly he reminded himself Viola was here, and it was unlikely he was getting out of here without taking her home first. The two-minute silent conversation took place without either of them saying a word. It was instantly clear to Deandra when his mind drifted back to the present and his mother in the other room.

“I’ll be leaving soon,” she remarked, although it sounded more like a suggestion, and then slipped him a gallery card with her cell phone number written on the back. She glided away without a backward glance and mingled effortlessly into the crowd. She had accomplished what she needed for the moment. The meeting had been most important. Now she would wait for him to make the next move.

He smiled as he saw the number on the back and then slipped it inside his jacket pocket. It was time to find Viola and make his exit. There was a change of plans in the evening’s agenda.

As Marshall walked his mother to her door, his mind was on Deandra and he planned to give her a call as soon as Viola was safely inside for the night. He opened the front door and made a cursory check of the house from front to back before returning to the foyer, where Viola was hanging her wrap in the hall closet.

Viola had kept a close watch on her son all evening. Her internal antennae were alert for any unsuitable women. She loved her son, but felt he was somewhat naïve when it came to women. When Marshall happened to catch Deandra in the hallway, she had watched the flirtatious behavior that ensued. She knew Marshall was anxious to leave this evening and follow up with that woman.

“Would you like to stay for a cup of tea, dear?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.

“Not tonight, Mom. I have some work to do,” he replied as he leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“I don’t like her,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. She knew he was on his way back to the gallery. Her innate radar told her that girl was trouble with a capital T. A designer dress and shoes were not enough to disguise a gold-digging trollop. She wanted better for her son. She just wished he wanted better for himself.

Marshall straightened up and looked down at his mom and smiled. Viola never missed a trick. He knew she only wanted to protect him, but he wasn’t eighteen anymore, and her opinion of his companions mattered less and less as he got older. He wasn’t the babe in the woods she feared, and a long-term commitment was not what he had in mind for Deandra tonight.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve been a big boy for a long time now. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He kissed her again and walked out the front door, closing it gently behind him.

Marshall punched the number on the back of the card into his cell phone as soon as he got back into his car. Deandra answered on the third ring. “Would you care to join me for a late dinner?” he asked.

“I’d love to,” she replied, and pumped her fist in the air, mouthing a silent and enthusiastic yes! “I’m still at the gallery,” she offered.

“Give me fifteen and meet me outside,” he replied easily.

Deandra pouted, but immediately thought better of complaining. She wanted to “be seen” with Marshall by the other movers and shakers in the crowd. She didn’t want to jump into some mysterious car curbside like a common hooker. “Oh, okay. I’ll see you soon,” she answered sweetly. She had plenty of time to make a lasting impression on Mr. James. It was best to go along with his game plan for tonight.

True to his word, he pulled up in front of the gallery fifteen minutes later. Deandra took note of the pristine silver CL500 Mercedes-Benz coupe he drove, and smiled inwardly. Excitement rushed through her veins. Marshall James was a big fish, probably the biggest one she’d baited so far. She would have to be very careful to stay on top of her game.

Marshall alighted from the car and came around to open the passenger door for her. He watched as she demurely sat facing outward and then pulled her long legs into the car. He took note that her smoothly shaven legs were devoid of any hosiery. One less barrier to cross, he mused. Her toes showed evidence of a recent pedicure and were delicately painted with white French-style tips. He closed the door and returned to the driver’s side.

Deandra easily slipped into the luxurious comfort of the expensive car. Sexy jazz tunes floated from the speakers and enveloped her. This is where I belong, she convinced herself. She smiled brightly at Marshall and leaned back, crossed her legs and slipped off her shoes. The ball was in his court now; she was curious to see what he would do with it.

He returned her smile, put the car in gear, and eased out into traffic. He was glad he’d called her. It had been a while since he’d spent an evening with a beautiful woman. It was not that opportunities did not present themselves, but he’d been working steadily on a new development and this was the first time he’d gone out socially in a few months. If his mother had not insisted she wanted to be there, he may not have attended the showing this evening.

Deandra turned in her seat so that she faced him while he drove. She studied his profile—confident and determined. She liked his hands—strong with long, lean fingers that held the steering wheel lightly, but still effortlessly maintained control of the road. She surmised he was a man of action, one who would take what he wanted regardless of the consequences. He hadn’t spoken a word since she got in the car and long silences made her nervous. Sometimes it meant someone was reevaluating a decision they’d made. She wasn’t about to give him time to rethink his decision to call her tonight.

“So, Mr. James, tell me. What is it that you do?” she asked boldly.

He smiled. He was certain she already knew what he did. He’d met her type before. They usually had a full dossier on their mark before they made the initial contact. He may have approached her in the hallway, but like a bitch in heat, she’d been sending out pheromones all evening long.

“A little bit of this and a little bit of that,” he replied evasively. He watched as an expression of mild annoyance crossed her face ever so quickly. Before she could respond, he added, “And what is it that you do, Miss Morgan?”

“As little of this and that as I possibly can,” she replied candidly. There was no shame in her game. She knew he was on to her, so there was little use pretending to be something she was not.

He laughed aloud. “Somehow I knew that about you.”

“So where are we going this evening?” she asked as she leaned back into the soft leather of the seat.

“If you don’t mind, I thought perhaps the Lounge at the Ritz would be nice. They usually have a small jazz quartet playing and we can get a light bite to eat,” he suggested.

“That’s fine with me. I love their spring rolls,” she replied. She wanted to let him know this wouldn’t be her first visit to the Ritz-Carlton. But she wasn’t about to admit that she’d only been there as an event waitress once. She had never actually dined there.

“Then I certainly hope they’re on the menu tonight,” he said, and smiled warmly at her.

Jeez, she thought, he had the prettiest teeth she’d ever seen on a man, so even and white. It would be a pleasure slipping her tongue between those pearly whites. A thrill of anticipation caused her to give a little shudder of delight.

“Are you cold?” he asked, concerned. The little shudder had not escaped his attention.

“No, I’m fine. Really,” she replied happily.

A few moments later they were pulling up in front of the Palm Beach Ritz-Carlton. A valet hastened out to the car and another opened her door to assist her from the vehicle.

Marshall collected his receipt and joined her. He placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her into the lobby of the hotel. He directed her toward the Lobby Lounge, where they were greeted by a hostess and promptly seated. Marshall ordered a martini and the same for her.

“Looks like your spring rolls are on the menu tonight,” he remarked after perusing the menu for a few moments.

“That’s perfect. I’ll have that.” She smiled and placed her menu on the table. She folded her hands in front of her on the table and gazed around the lounge.

I belong here, she thought.

Their drinks arrived and he ordered the spring rolls for her and calamari. While they waited for their food to arrive, he had an opportunity to really study Deandra. Yes, he had seen her most of the evening, but now he had the luxury of viewing her with a discerning eye. What he saw was an undeniably beautiful woman with a voluptuous, well-toned body. Her long hair was freshly washed and well kept, as were her nails and toes. She smelled delicious, from an expensive fragrance he couldn’t quite recall the name of, although he was sure he smelled it before. Her demeanor intrigued him most. She had an edge about her—an edge that simmered beneath the surface of a highly polished veneer. The edge of someone who’s fighting hard to reach a goal that’s just beyond their grasp. She hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she did a good job of faking it.

Deandra wondered how the evening was going to end. She’d wanted to be here with the infamous Marshall James, and he was everything she’d imagined and more. He was handsome, refined, and a gentleman. She knew instinctively that he planned to bed her before the night was through, but she wasn’t looking for a one-night stand. She wanted to ensure there would be other nights like this, and considered it might pay for her to hold out a little now for a greater reward later on. Despite her own physical desires, she might have to resist the call of the wild.

The waitress arrived with their appetizers, interrupting the solitude of their individual reflections. They spent the next hour musing over the incredible food and enjoying the music played by the jazz quartet.

Marshall was pleasantly surprised to find Deandra quite informed on a number of topics. They chatted about the local and national political climate and a few of the local politicians. She was also up to date on the current national and international golf and tennis tournaments and players. A lively debate ensued over who was the best in women’s tennis, past and present. Deandra mentioned she’d won a few local tournaments.

“Do you play?” she asked.

“Not for competition. My schedule usually doesn’t permit me to commit as much time as a tournament generally requires. I play golf and tennis for relaxation or the occasional business meeting,” he replied.

Deandra was more impressed by Marshall than she expected. He wasn’t stuffy like many men of similar stature. He was really laid-back and appeared easygoing. She liked that about him. The fact he was single and unattached was a special bonus. She’d grown a bit weary of married men who didn’t want to be seen in public places with her. They were more than willing to spend time with her in out-of-the-way restaurants or hotel rooms, and to lavish her with expensive gifts and money in exchange for her company. Yet, she knew they offered no future or security, because they were already committed to someone else. Tonight, staring across at Marshall, she became abundantly aware she wouldn’t be able to trade on her looks forever. Eligible bachelors like him were few and far between. Perhaps it was time to think about a long-term relationship.

While Marshall wasn’t thinking long-term commitment, he was considering the possibility of spending more time with Deandra. She was lively and vivacious. He surmised it was time for a little fun. He’d been working steadily for the past several months and just decided a mini vacation might be in order.

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” he asked as he finished his drink and watched her face closely for a reaction.

Out of force of habit, she almost wanted to say she had plans for the weekend. She didn’t want him to think she was not invited anywhere. Most socialites were always occupied on the weekend. However, logic told her this might be her only opportunity to spend more time with him. The evening was ending and how she answered might determine the outcome tonight. If she said she was unavailable, chances were he would sleep with her tonight and she would quickly fade into a distant memory. Or, if she was available, even if he slept with her tonight, he would have committed to seeing her again tomorrow. All these scenarios danced around in her head delaying her response.

“You must have a very busy schedule. Pardon me for being so presumptive,” he said, and signaled for the check. It was a calculated move on his part, because he could clearly see she had no plans for the next day. He knew by indicating the evening was over, it would force a truthful response from her and not allow her time to calculate her next move. She reacted as he expected.

“Nothing so pressing I couldn’t put it off to a later date,” she replied easily.

He smiled before continuing. “Your company this evening has helped me to realize I am in need of a little break. Care to join me for a quick trip to the Bahamas?”

Unabashed surprise and glee registered on her face. Without hesitation, she replied, “I’d love to.”

“Great,” he replied, and placed some bills along with the check in the black folder on the table. “Excuse me for just a moment,” he continued, and disappeared into the lobby for a few minutes. When he returned, he assisted her from her chair and escorted her out toward the lobby.

As they exited the hotel, Deandra’s mind was in a whirl. What should she pack? Should she ask him how many days they would be gone or just stay quiet and not interrupt the mood? Excitement raced through her body and her eyes sparkled in anticipation. She looked across at Marshall standing next to her while they waited for the valet and shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked once more.

“No, just excited,” she said, and smiled up at him.

He took her hand in his and gave it a brief squeeze. He released her hand as soon as his car was brought around and he opened the car door for her. Marshall got into the driver’s side and put the car in gear and drove off.

Her mind was so filled with thoughts of what she should take with her to make the best impression on him that she didn’t pay attention to where they were going. After fifteen minutes it occurred to her he might need to know where she lived, so he could drop her off.

“Are you taking me home?” she asked.

“Not yet, unless you’re ready to go home?” he replied, and continued on his course.

“Oh,” she answered, and sat quietly back in her seat. She said nothing for a few more minutes and then noticed they were approaching the local marina. She looked across at him quizzically, but declined to ask any more questions.

He pulled into a parking space at the marina and alighted from the car. She stayed in her seat unsure of why they were here. Suddenly her door was opened and he offered his hand to assist her out of the car. He took her hand and guided her along the walkway toward a huge white boat.

“Good evening, Mr. James,” an old man called from the deck of a sleek Sea Ray Sundancer, and climbed down to the dock and began walking toward them.

“Hey there, Sam, everything in order?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, just like you requested.”

“Fantastic,” Marshall replied, and tossed his car keys to the old man.

Deandra stopped in her tracks as it dawned on her. The trip to the Bahamas was now, not tomorrow. “Marshall, are we leaving now?”

“Yes, I thought it would be a nice surprise,” he replied.

“But I didn’t pack anything,” she wailed as she realized the only makeup she had was a tube of lipstick in her evening bag, and surely this cocktail dress would be out of place on a beach. She didn’t even have a decent hairbrush.

“Not to worry,” he said, and tilted her chin up with his hand and kissed her briefly on the lips.

His kiss was as unexpected as it was sweet, and she melted instantly. Still in her high heels, she allowed him to guide her along the wooden planks of the dock. She watched each step to prevent one of her two-hundred-dollar Jimmy Choo pumps from slipping through the cracks in the wood.

Marshall assisted her onto the deck of the boat and handed her his suit jacket before he turned to have a few more words with the old man. Deandra stood in the cockpit and took stock of her surroundings. From what she’d seen so far, the boat was immaculate, with a U-shaped comfortable seating area complete with wet bar and sink. She lifted his jacket to her nose and inhaled deeply. It was warm from his body and his cologne lingered in the fine wool threads. She ran her fingers across the expensive material and smiled. This was all too good to be true.

The old man gave a brief wave from the dock before he climbed into Marshall’s Mercedes and drove out of the marina. Marshall bounded back onto the deck and joined her in the cockpit. He wasn’t quite ready to set sail. With his shirt collar undone and sleeves rolled up, he looked every inch the rich playboy. He reached for her hand and easily pulled her into his arms.

She offered no resistance and slipped her arms comfortably around his waist. Her body tingled in response to the close proximity of his. She explored the solid muscles of his back and shoulders with her hands. His waist was slim and she resisted the urge to run her hands south of his waistline.

He brushed her hair from her neck and kissed the soft skin below her ear. His lips blazed a hot trail from her jaw to her lips before he captured her mouth in a rapturous kiss.

Her knees grew weak as his assault on her senses continued. She eagerly responded as he slipped his tongue deep into the sweet corners of her mouth. Heat rose between her thighs and she ached in anticipation.

Marshall’s hand slipped down to caress her ass, but the many layers of chiffon in the skirt of her dress were prohibitive. He gathered layer after layer in his hands without gaining access to skin. He finally gave up, murmuring against her neck.

“This is a lovely dress, but there is just too much material here,” he said, and tugged on the chiffon for emphasis.

“Why, Mr. James, it seems you’re quite intent on getting under my clothes,” she drawled sweetly.

“You noticed?” he replied.

“What kind of girl do you think I am?” she protested weakly as she exhaled in short, quick bursts.

He groaned, accompanied by a deep laugh. “Do you really want to have that conversation right now?” he asked as he finally found his way under the chiffon to the soft skin of her thigh.

Deandra wanted to be offended, but the ache between her thighs could not be ignored. The firmness of his manhood pressing against her belly hinted at a promise of sexual fulfillment. A promise she was eager to collect on.

He stopped his caressing just long enough to escort her to the cabin below deck. She removed her shoes to descend the steps into the salon below. Marshall locked the cabin door behind them and then walked up behind her and slipped his hands around her waist. He nuzzled her neck only briefly before he untied the silk ribbon around her waist.

Deandra was overwhelmed by the elegance of the salon and still could not believe she was on the boat. She wanted to take it all in, but her physical desire for him was more overpowering. When he slid down the bodice of her dress and his hands cupped her bare breasts, she moaned aloud with pleasure. She felt her dress fall to the floor and she was naked, except for a silken hunter green thong with lace trim.

Marshall scooped her up effortlessly and carried her to the master cabin. He laid her on the bed and took a moment to enjoy the vision before him. Deandra lay reposed on the bed; her long, firm, shapely legs, her large, voluptuous breasts, and her slim, taut waistline created an irresistible package.

She watched him undress and marveled at the body hidden beneath the cloak of a benevolent businessman. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him and it was clear from the taut, rippling six-pack he worked out regularly. His dark skin was smooth as marble, like an African warrior chiseled from the finest stone. He took only a moment to sheath his manhood and then joined her.

He started his exploration at her ankles and licked his way up the supple skin of her legs to the firm skin of her belly. He nuzzled her navel playfully before sliding his tongue along the underside of her breasts. He continued his pursuit to the pink nipple, and gently pulled the large areola into his mouth.

Deandra purred, catlike, in response to his touch. She spread her legs wide, inviting him into her secret depths. She reached out and took hold of his dick as it rubbed against her belly. She wanted to feel him inside her.

Marshall was not in a hurry. He intended to enjoy each delicious morsel of her body. He wasn’t sure if he’d have it again. He eased away from her insistent hand and slipped his finger inside her pussy. As he suspected, she was ready and juicy. He rubbed her clit until she bucked slightly from the stimulation. He then inserted a couple of fingers and stroked them in and out, making certain to slide his fingers over her clit each time he eased his fingers out.

She was moaning louder and louder, and whispering passionately and almost unintelligibly. “Fuck me, Marshall, fuck me now,” she repeated incessantly while thrusting her hips against his groin.

He decided not to make her wait any longer and he pushed his dick as far inside her hot, wet, and juicy pleasure spot as he could.

Her vaginal walls closed around his dick like a vise grip and he could feel her working her inner muscles to increase his pleasure. It was working since his body temperature was rising steadily as he pounded her with sure and strong strokes. He made love to her for the better part of an hour before she shuddered violently in one final climax and he followed suit shortly thereafter.

Deandra snuggled in his arms and they fell peacefully asleep to the gentle rocking of the marina waters.

Marshall arose early in the morning and started toward Nassau while Deandra slept. She poked her head out from the cabin door just as Marshall was dropping anchor.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Just a few miles from Nassau,” he replied, and smiled as she emerged completely naked from the cabin door. Her body seemed even more flawless in the bright light of day than it had the night before. There wasn’t a spare ounce of fat on her body. Her breasts were large and perfectly formed. She had a taut, firm stomach and abdomen. Her hips were slim, with just the right amount of flare to complement her smooth, round ass.

“Then I shouldn’t have to worry about any nosey neighbors or Peeping Toms,” she said as she stretched leisurely and then approached his chair in the pilothouse.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get burned?” Marshall asked as he ran his hand along her arm.

“I’m hoping for a little burn this morning,” she replied coyly, and eased herself between his legs with her back to the wheel.

Marshall placed his hands on her ass cheeks and pulled her close for a kiss. His dick was already hard from the moment she stepped naked out onto the deck and he wanted her to feel his readiness.

Deandra moaned deliciously as his cock bounced eagerly against her rib cage. Marshall slid out of his bathing shorts and slipped on a condom from a small compartment next to the chair.

“Are you always so prepared?” she whispered, and pulled his earlobe into her mouth, and then ran her tongue along the outline of his ear.

“Always,” he replied as he lifted her onto his lap and eased his thickened rod inside her waiting pussy. He moaned as the warm wetness closed around his shaft.

Deandra sighed and groaned as the long length of him moved deeper inside her body. She wrapped her arms around his neck for leverage and began to move her pussy up and down along the length of his dick. With his hands on her ass cheeks, and the strength of her thigh muscles she worked them both up to a heated frenzy before Marshall rose from the chair and carried her to one of the sofas on the deck to finish the job.

Spent, they both lay naked on the floor of the deck, soaking up a few rays of sun and resting. They drifted off to sleep. The sound of an engine nearby woke Marshall an hour later.

“Hey, Marsh, you there?” a man called from the approaching boat.

Marshall jumped up as he realized they could be seen any minute now as the other boat got closer. “Wake up, Dee,” he said urgently, and shook her arm slightly. He then crawled into the pilothouse and donned his shorts before greeting the visitor.

“Hey, Pete,” he called in return, hoping Dee had escaped inside the cabin. The boat continued its approach.

“What you doing out here? I haven’t seen you on the water in months,” Peter asked.

“I have to escape now and then,” Marshall replied as Peter Jensen pulled his cruiser alongside the Sea Ray.

“Mae and Lonnie are in the cabin, why don’t you come on over for some coffee and breakfast,” Peter offered as his wife poked her head out of the cabin to call a greeting to Marshall.

“Thanks, but—” Marshall replied, but was cut off.

“Sweet Jesus!” Peter cried aloud as Deandra stood up in the middle of the deck and stretched kittenlike with her arms above her head. Her heavy, pendulous breasts swung naturally and erotically as she bent over and stretched the back of her legs by touching her toes. Her fine, round ass was on display, along with every other orifice of her body.

She stood up, smiled, and then waved to the newcomers as she disappeared below deck. Peter and his wife, Mae, stood with mouths agape and then looked questioningly at Marshall.

Marshall was disturbed by her blatant exhibitionism. She had a beautiful body without a doubt, but they were his friends, and a bit of decorum was necessary. He would have to have a serious chat with her. “Not today, thanks anyway,” he replied as though they hadn’t just seen every inch of his companion.

“Sure, sure. Maybe another time.” Peter regained his composure and then restarted his engine and pulled away. “Have a good time,” he tossed back over his shoulder with a knowing smile as he headed for the open sea.

Marshall stared out across the ocean and reflected on what had just occurred. What did he know about this woman aboard his boat, except that she was beautiful, vivacious, and sexually insatiable? Are you looking for a wife? a little voice in his head asked. No. Then what’s the problem? He couldn’t change what had already occurred, and this wasn’t destined to be a long-term relationship anyway. By the time he finally went below deck, he had decided not to make any comment on her behavior.

He found her draped in a towel and still wet from a shower. She was holding a photograph that had been mounted on the wall next to his dresser. She looked up at him curiously and pointed to the photo.

“Who are these people?” she asked.

The photo had been taken a few years ago on the deck of his boat. It was an older couple, himself, and a young woman. “Why? Do you recognize anyone?” he asked.

Deandra smiled meekly. Yes, she had recognized someone. When she emerged from her shower, she took a look around the bedroom, checking out pictures. Most of them were scenic pictures—the ocean, the sunset—and there was one of him holding a huge fish he must have caught. When she stumbled across this picture, her body froze. She hadn’t seen her in fifteen years, but she would bet money that was CJ in that picture with Marshall. CJ, the source of her childhood humiliation, somehow knew Marshall James. It appeared that they knew each other rather well, judging by his arm that was draped over her shoulder and the big grin she was giving him in the picture. “No, not really. Are these your parents?” she said, pointing to the older couple in the picture.

“No, those aren’t my parents. That’s Tina and Emmett. They are good friends of my mother’s and now they’re friends of mine, a really nice couple. The other person is Connie. She’s a close friend of Tina’s.”

“Was she your girlfriend at the time?”

“Connie? Oh no. We’re just good friends. Connie’s not the kind of girl you just fool around with. Connie’s long-term,” he said, and smiled.

The glint in his eye when he spoke her name told Deandra that Connie was special, even if she wasn’t his girlfriend. “What do you mean she’s long-term?”

“Well, if you’re going to get involved with someone like Connie, you should be thinking about eventually getting married. Sorry to say it, because it sounds so old-fashioned, but Connie is the kind of girl you take home to your mother.”

“Ouch! And I’m not?” she countered.

He laughed and pulled her close, dislodging her towel. He nuzzled his face in her neck and pulled the soft skin of her neck between his lips. “I don’t know you that well yet,” he replied as his dick hardened again in anticipation of another romp. He cupped her breast with his right hand and brought the pink tip to his lips. He circled the protruding bud with his tongue, before pulling the tit into his mouth and sucking.

Deandra momentarily gave up her interrogation to slip back into bed with Marshall. She welcomed him into her body once again. She marveled at the contrast of his coal black skin melded with her light skin as she watched their reflection in the mirror across from the bed. The muscles in his back and ass cheeks were like steel. His body glistened with a light coat of sweat. His dick filled every inch of her aching pussy as he stroked deeper and deeper inside. She slipped her hand between his groin and her and began to stroke her clit.

Marshall felt her stroking herself. He knew this meant she wasn’t coming easily this time. He pulled her hand out and held both of her hands by the wrists above her head. He removed his dick from her pussy and replaced it with his mouth. He sucked aggressively on her clit and tasted the juices of her body.

Deandra bucked wildly under the assault on her clit. She thrashed uncontrollably as orgasm after orgasm rocked her body. Satisfied she’d finally come, he reentered her body and fucked her until he came again.

Marshall arose from the bed to take a quick shower while Deandra remained in bed, her thoughts in a jumble. Marshall shared a definite affection for Connie. She could hear it in the way he talked about her, something deeper than friendship. She wanted to know more about their relationship, but didn’t want to make him suspicious by asking too many questions.

She decided it didn’t matter at the moment. There was no way CJ was going to stop her from continuing in this relationship with Marshall James. No way in hell.

After she showered again, Marshall took her on a shopping spree in Nassau. She was completely loaded down with clothes, shoes, and accessories by the time they returned to the boat. He enjoyed buying clothes for her, and she was like a child in a candy store everywhere they went. Since it had been so long since he’d spent time with a beautiful woman, he did not mind indulging her.

They returned to the boat, where they made love again, then headed back out to sea and home to Jupiter Island.