Belle Pearl (2 page)

“I know, baby. I know. You think you have to be all Mr. Faithful to that silly American tart, but we know very well that your lusty relationship won’t last, so why not nip it in the bud now, eh? You’ll thank me later for this, I swear.”

“Laoor….ra.”

“I know, darling, I know.” She gripped her knees about my hips, spat on her fingers and smeared them inside herself for lubrication. So much for her being turned on. This wasn’t about love or lust; Laura had other plans, obviously. She spat on her fingers once more, and spread another glob of spittle where she felt she needed it most, thrusting her skinny frame over me, covering me like a blanket. My arms pushed forward, pressing on her collarbone. I didn’t want to hurt her, I just wanted her
off
me. I saw that it was electric cable tying my wrists together. In an infallible sailor’s knot.

She tumbled backwards and cried out. “Alex! Ouch!”

“Fuck ow, Laoara,” my tongue managed.
Fuck off, off of me!
I pinned her down with my torso so she was locked beneath me.

She grinned as if she had won a prize. “Ooh, sexy, I like a bit of rough. Come on then, Mr. Stud, give it to me, ram it in me, baby!”

My breath was uneven. My heart pounding out of sequence. Jesus! What the hell had she put in that Bloody Mary, apart from Viagra? Qualudes? Some sort of date-rape drug? Enough to bring a horse to its knees, anyway.

We lay there panting, her arms draped about my neck, holding me close to her, her legs hooked about my calf muscles and she thrashed her groin up at me, her hands grappling, trying to find their way back to my dick. But I pressed myself even closer so there was no space between us. I almost wanted to laugh the situation was so absurd. There was something comical about Laura, and in that moment, I remembered the fights we used to have which would always end up with make-up sex and then us laughing about it afterwards. She would goad and provoke me, knowing that the only way we’d even end up speaking to each other again was after we’d fucked.

“Oh Alex, oh Alex, how I’ve missed this,” she breathed into my ear. “You and I are destined to be together. Destined. I love you, darling.”

No you don’t, you nutter!
“Laaoura.”

If I moved from my position, she could get leverage again and I couldn’t risk it. I wanted to call for help but then realized how mad it would seem. A big grown man like me being ‘raped’ by a beautiful ex-model?
Yeah, people would really believe that one.
My hands fumbled in front of me, trying to cup my dick to protect its ‘virtue.’ No, ‘cup’ is the wrong word, as it could not be cupped—it was like a fucking missile.

My tongue tried to wrap its way around a simple sentence: “Laaoora, pleathe.”

She started inhaling me again, writhing beneath me, edging her way higher so my missile was in the perfect spot to be fired into her. “Oh yeah, Alex. Oh yeah, just a couple of centimeters lower…come on baby, give it to me.”

And my dick was tempted. How do you undo centuries of male instinct? I wasn’t made of stone. Except…I was—my cock, anyway. The drugs were now making me horny too. I half wanted just to fuck her and get it over with, but even in my woozy state, I knew that it was just the beginning of something more ominous. If she got away with this, who knew what was next on the cards? Besides, I was engaged to another woman. Being a cheater wasn’t my style, even if I was being coerced into it.

No. Laura isn’t fucking getting her insane way with me!

Except she was. Almost. I could feel her pussy poised at the crown of my cock, now soaked with her spit.

Using the arm of the sofa to maneuver myself, I pushed myself down the sofa so my head was now on her chest. My cock was free. For the moment, anyway.

“Oh yeah, baby, suck my tits, that’s good.”

I thrashed my head from side to side, fumbling with my butter-fingers to untie the electric cable which was digging into my wrists. But it was useless. So I dipped my head over the edge of the sofa and performed a very ungracious somersault, crashing into the coffee table—glasses and Bloody Marys tumbling to the floor—but I managed to roll myself forward with enough force that I landed on my feet in a crouch. Laura’s arms slapped into my thighs as she tried to bring me down again, her hooky nails clawing at my jeans, which were half way down my thighs. But I leapt to my feet. At last, I was upright.

Stars flooded my brain as dizziness threatened to topple me over again. My head rushed with a mélange of bright colors, swirling about in dashes and flashes. I could hear Laura cackling hysterically.

You think this is funny, eh?
I tried to say without words forming, just moans. But to my horror, I too, was laughing—my belly contracting in painful howls. The drugs were coursing through me. I was now doubled-up. In that second, it was as if every hilarious movie, book, play and memory was crashing into me, making me roar with uncontrollable mirth.

“You see how we’re made for each other, darling? That American just doesn’t have your sense of humor! No American does. They’re so bloody earnest, so goody-goody. You and I are a real
team,
Alex. We’re naughty, irreverent,
wild!
We
break the law,
we
will stop at nothing.”

I howled with hilarity at every word spoken. It was true:
Pearl is a good person
.
Too good for me. Too wholesome. Too honest. I’m bad. Rotten inside. Killed people. Done illegal deals with Sophie, smuggling gems and all sorts of other moneymaking schemes to get rich and powerful.
Pearl deserves better. I deserve Laura. Laura knows how fucked-up I am and she still doesn’t care.
I tried to button up the fly of my jeans, my wrists tied, my fingers hopelessly numb. I screamed with laughter at my ineptitude.

“Let’s have another drink,” suggested Laura.

I burst out laughing again. The idea that she was about to mix another Bloody Mary, lacing it with another round of drugs, was the funniest thing I’d ever heard in my life. I held out my wrists. “Undooo,” I howled.

“You want me to undo that sailor’s knot, darling?”

I nodded.

“Where would the fun be in that? You know very well that if I undooooo you,
I
will be undone. I think we should get back on the sofa, don’t you? One more try and if it doesn’t work, I’ll mix another cocktail.”

A cocktail of drugs.
Hmm, not so amusing.
My pulse was pounding in my ears. This woman could kill me! I took a deep breath and staggered towards the door. I needed air but not just air—I needed my freedom.

In my peripheral vision—a blur of flesh and limbs—I saw Laura race after me. I kept going, my heart like an old-fashioned steam train, pumping as hard as it could to gain momentum. Laura rugby-tackled me but I stepped aside and she went flying on her face. Her arms curled about my ankles but I kept moving—Laura was letting herself be dragged behind me. I dared not bend down to unlatch her, in case I lost my balance again.

“Where the fuck are you going!” she yelled. It was not a question but a command.

The scenery of paintings, smooth walls and light fittings of the hotel penthouse swam before my eyes as I lugged myself, and the limpet on my leg, to the door. Finally I reached my destination, my head flopping against the wood. I turned the handle and poked my head outside. I wedged my foot in the door and edged my body into the corridor.

Sophie was standing right there.

With Indira.

“We came by to see if you wanted to have tea with…” Sophie stopped herself mid-sentence.

Indira smiled at first, then her eyes swept down to my crotch. I followed her gaze and saw that my missile dick was poking out of my unbuttoned jeans. My hands were still tied with electric cable and groans and moans were coming from my ankles: Laura.

Indira pushed the door with a mighty thud, and Laura cried out:

“Ouch, that’s my head, thank you very much! What the fuck—”

Indira’s eyes scanned down to the floor where Laura was sprawled out, naked, still clinging onto my ankles.

“Jesus,” Sophie said, speaking in French. “What the hell is going on?”

“Help me!” I mouthed silently. “Take Laura away, call James.” But I started laughing again, clutching my stomach with bellyache howls.

Indira’s hand came down hard on my face. The slap stung like twenty wasps biting me all at once. “You slut! And into dirty bondage games to boot! You disgust me!” She spat in my face and shuffled away, nearly tripping over her flowing sari. I knew what really irked her: that she had wanted to experiment with bondage one time, and I wouldn’t play ball.

I rubbed my face against my shoulder to wipe off her spittle. I’d had enough female saliva for one day.

I said with a silent growl, “Sophie, please, help—it’s not funny,” but between a racing heart and hitched breaths, I chortled again with another round of hysteria, tears streaming down my face, my jaw sore with all the grinning.

Sophie stood there, glaring at me, her eyes two empty holes, her lips twitching.

Like a scolded schoolboy sent to a corner, her disdainful look made me roar all the more.

2

A
s the drugs wore off, my amusement at the situation waned. Although, the more I thought about Laura, the more I sort of admired her gusto. I had to give her an A+ for effort. But I felt as if I was wrapped up in a psychological suspense movie with the mad ex stalking me, and if I wasn’t more vigilant I could wind up dead, poisoned in a back alley somewhere, Laura weeping over my dead body; the body she’d topped off.

One thing was for sure, though: you had to give her ten out of ten for an active imagination.

Once again, my sister had bailed me out of trouble. Indira stormed off in a huff and Sophie rescued me, untied the sailor’s knot, and sent Laura on her way, waiting patiently while she got dressed, but not leaving my side until Laura was safely out of the hotel. Sophie called James but he still wasn’t answering his cell, or returning calls.

Once I was alone again, and with my dick still Viagra-hard, I called Pearl for some Skype sex–I had to do something to tone down my raging erection. My libido was hungry enough as it was; the last thing in the world I needed was bloody Viagra—I didn’t know how long the effect would last but I needed a release.

Pearl was in the bath with the soundtrack from the beautiful 1960’s film,
Un Homme et Une Femme
in the background. She wanted to chit-chat about this and that—her meeting with Samuel Myers and how they’d got the gay actress Alessandra Demarr on board, and that they’d be working together on this feature film Pearl was producing,
Stone Trooper
. I wondered if Pearl would be tempted by a gay woman? After all, her first orgasm had happened with her schoolgirl friend.

I didn’t want to talk about the film; I needed a release. And fast. I conjured up girlie images of Pearl and Alessandra together, sucking each other’s tits—anything to get my wooden dick to climax and then get back to normal.

“I know you have a penchant for pretty women,” I breathed into my iPhone as I gazed at the screen; Pearl’s beautiful breasts lathered with bubble-bath foam. “Remember when you told me about your first time? When your best friend stroked you with a feather? Fuck,” I groaned, my hand moving up and down my mammoth cock. I had Pearl’s wet pussy in my mind’s eye, me licking her, flicking my tongue on her clit, fucking her hard. Her squirming beneath me as I thrust myself in and out of her slick wet warmth.

“I’d love to suck your cock right now.” Pearl was holding her iPad, her big blue eyes staring at me as if she were right there in the flesh.

I curled my grip harder about my erection, jerking my hand up and down vigorously. “Tell me, baby. Tell. Me. How. You’d. Suck. My. Hard. Cock.”

“I’d take your big, beautiful centerpiece and guide its silkiness all over my face, licking off your pre-cum, dancing my tongue on your huge, thick crown.”

“Oh, yeah…oh baby…” My hand clenched harder, pressuring my swollen tip.

“I’d breathe in the smell of you, Alexandre…the one thousand percent pure, unadulterated, all-male, luscious helping of Alexandre Chevalier.”

I flinched at the word ‘unadulterated’ and wished it were true—wished what had happened to me as a boy hadn’t been real. I focused on her other words, ‘luscious helping’ and imagined myself being served up at some banquet. I started laughing manically again—the drug laugh—taking my phone away from my face so Pearl couldn’t see my crazy eyes; the mad Frenchman who wanted her to be his bride.

“Go on,” I urged, trying to make my voice sound serious.

Her mouth was pouting and I imagined my cock deep inside it. She continued in a whisper, “I’d tease my lips along your balls and let my hot tongue flick up and down along your rock-hard, thick, throbbing cock, thinking how it makes me come when it fucks me so hard—every time. Every single time. No man has ever been able—”

“Don’t
ever
put the idea of another man into my head,” I interrupted her. “I don’t want to know who’s touched you. I don’t ever want to even
imagine
that you’ve been with anyone else. You’re
mine,
Pearl. Do you understand? You’re fucking well
mine
.” My eyes flashed like two balls of fire, my jealousy surging through my veins in an emerald-green rush.