mouth. How she cursed herself for not letting him fuck her. 'Ooooh, ooh Chris, oh baby, do it to me, baby. Stick your tongue in my cunt and lick me up and down…' she said aloud.
Upstairs, Garcia frowned as he said to Julio, 'So, there is a boyfriend. I knew it! That could be trouble. Find out who he is, where he is, and just how serious the girl is about him. Get to know the girl, romance her a little bit – you know what to do.'
It was Julio's turn to frown. 'But Don Ernesto, there is so little time. What makes you think that she will willingly…'
Garcia stopped him short with a scoffing grin. 'Compadre mio, por favor! They do not call you El Rey de Macho Cabrio for nothing!' he teased. 'How I should like to have such an impressive title: The Billy Goat King! How are you at modeling, amigo?'
'Modeling?'
'I promised the girl a model. See to it.'
In the bathroom, Jill was drawing closer and closer to the first of her self-induced orgasms, panting loud and squirming her buttocks on the floor. She held the powder puff in one hand as she massaged and cupped her taut breasts, tickling her flesh as she stroked her skin. The fingers of the other hand were busy at work in her pussy, massaging the entire furrow of her heated slit and burrowing up into her vagina, pumping in and out, in and out, moaning aloud, crying out for Chris: 'Fuck me, Chris, oh yeeeees, fuuuuuck meeeee! You're going to make me cum, baby… you're making… me… CUUUUUUUMMMMMM!'
She bucked upward off the rug and flailed her head from side to side as the first throes of orgasm shook her body and she was filled with the incomparable fiery sizzles of rapture that emanated from her pussy and spread through every part of her lusting body.
'Dios!' Garcia exclaimed under his breath. He shifted in his leather chair. Julio cleared his throat but said nothing. Both men had hard cocks and each was imagining himself in a situation of mutual ecstasy with the American girl, though each also nurtured private thoughts relating to other very practical applications of the girl's 'talents'.
Jill barely relaxed from her first orgasm when she came again, her tweaking massaging fingers never leaving her pussy. Each climax only made her yearn for another one, and her mind dwelled on Chris, and on the events of the night before, which, in her moment of excitement, did not seem so repugnant now. In fact, she admitted to herself that she wanted cock,cock, and more cock. She wanted a man's cock, his balls, his lips, tongue and hands all over her. She wanted to be fucked and sucked again and again. God, what had come over her? With the loss of her virginity she had lost all her vows of chastity-until-marriage. Chris was thousands of miles away, fucking her twin, no doubt. And she was in Mexico. What was she going to do…?
Ernesto Garcia's hacienda was more a palace than a house; huge, white and sprawling, a structure almost futuristic in design. It sat high on a hill alone, overlooking the city, which was sadly shrouded in smog. Sitting around the enormous free-form pool with her host and Julio, Jill felt as though she were living in a dream. Dorothy in The Land of Oz. The sun was bright and hot. It caressed her oiled body as she sipped cold tea between refreshing dips in the pool, feeling relaxed and lazy and quietly horny again!
She assessed her two companions, who were different in physique. Garcia was tall and lean. Well-built but slender, with smooth dark skin, a hairless chest, and very little hair on his arms and legs. Julio was the shorter of the two and very muscular, with an ample crop of chest hair and hairy arms and legs. Each man was, in his own way, very good looking and very sexy. But that thing that stood out about Julio was the huge bulge in his trunks! Jill stole furtive glances at the young man's loins, fascinated and appalled at the same time. She couldn't imagine how any woman could possibly accommodate a weapon of that size – why, it must be ten inches long when erect!
He swam beautifully, gracefully, with long powerful strokes. I wonder if he fucks that way, she mused idly. She was a good swimmer too, and did her best to impress both men with her aquatic skills. But Julio barely seemed to notice her. This piqued the young artist, who was accustomed to the slavering attentions of all kinds of men wherever she went. She knew she looked stunning in her brief, emerald green nylon bikini as she stretched out catlike on a long chair. Her attempts to make conversation with the bearded 'man Friday' had evoked barely more than monosyllabic replies. He seemed actually somewhat hostile to her, which both perplexed and angered the self-centered young girl; indifference was a thing she could not bear, and at one point she made a silent vow to herself that she would have him panting after her before long or she wasn't Jill Conklin, the prettiest girl in Kansas City! Chris' rejection had stung her to the quick, and she felt a spiteful need to get back at him, though he might not ever learn about it. Dirty old men like Jack Dawson didn't count – they were too easy. But Julio – that stuck-up Latino hired hand – there was simply no reason why he shouldn't fall madly in love with her!
As for Don Ernesto, the cultured art dealer was the kind of man she didn't know how to cope with. He was the perfect gentleman at all times, and he couldn't have been nicer or more hospitable. Yet she felt like an awkward little girl around him, all too aware of the gulf between them by virtue of both background and experience. Though she found him devastatingly appealing, she couldn't quite picture herself in bed with him. She realized then, that she felt inferior to the aristocratic Colombian.
'Have you ever been to the bullfights, Jill?' Garcia asked her.
'No… never,' she shook her head.
'Good. We are going this afternoon. I have an interest in bull raising. It is my custom to go every Sunday during the season. In my youth I wanted to be a matador. But my family had very strict objections.' He sighed deeply. 'So I never got to wear a Suit of Lights. But as a breeder – it is a little sideline, a hobby, so to speak – I have professional justification for maintaining close contact with the corrida. Take along a wrap – nights are cool in Mexico City at this time of year. The altitude, you know. Afterwards we will meet some friends at the Cortijo La Morena. One of them will be the man who will give you a job at his club, so be sure to have your portraits along… Senor Valdez does not yet know you are to be his employee!'
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning she was again awakened by the telephone. This time Garcia said, 'I hope you won't be offended, Jill, but it seems that you have clothes that are not entirely suitable for Mexico. I think we must do some shopping. Are you agreeable to that?'
Was she! It was a fairy tale, a dream. She couldn't believe how fortunate she was to have found a Fairy Godfather like Ernesto Garcia, a man who was not only very rich and very prominent in his field, but one who was terribly generous as well!
'That sounds absolutely great, Ernesto. Will you give me half an hour?'
'An hour would be even better. I have several long distance calls to make, and the Mexican telephone system is not as efficient as Ma Belle!'
Jill was smiling as she hung up. Ernesto had a way of making everything seem so easy, so smooth. He was commanding, authoritative, and yet so nice to her! She was faintly surprised and almost disappointed that he hadn't yet made a pass at her. She couldn't figure it out. As for Senor Valdez, the fat niteclub owner, she was sure he would try to paw her the first chance he got. The leering man, who wore diamond rings on his pudgy fingers and clear nail polish (she hated men who had professional manicures) almost drooled at the mouth when she was introduced to him at the bullring. She felt uneasy about her new 'employer', though she had been too embarrassed to communicate her fears to Garcia.
The job was easy – she would solicit portrait work from the club's patrons as they sat enjoying cocktails and listening to music. An easel set up in the lobby would show samples and advertise her work. Valdez thought it was an intriguing gimmick, something that hadn't been tried before. Jill would wear a long gown under a plastic smock and wear a lightweight easel-board that was hung around her shoulders by a cloth strap. With pastels and pencils in the easel tray and sketch paper clipped to the board, she was totally equipped to earn money as a quick portrait artist! Best of all, Garcia had told her that many prominent people frequented 'La Jacaranda', the most famous niteclub in Mexico City, and who knows… she might get a commission for a portrait in oil! The sketches would sell
