In her own eyes, Jo deserved a few days of luxurious vacation on the Côte d’Azur. Moreover, a little gambling should improve her funding. She hadn’t expected to encounter a sore loser. Even less had she expected the appearance of a new special unit of organized crime that quite soon could become a threat to her plans. To stay ahead of her opponents, she must enter the ZONE again, and this time she can’t expect to escape from there unhurt.
I turned my back on him, which automatically granted me a glance at my left neighbor’s happy smile and him in turn a deep glance into my cleavage.
“Good evening,” he told me. “I congratulate myself for being very undeservedly allowed to enjoy your company and your smile for at least this short moment.”
“Good evening,” I kindly replied. “I very much hope it won’t remain at this short moment.”
His eyebrows and the corners of his mouth went up. “Oh. Thank you very much.”
“Don’t thank me. I’ll stay at least until I’ve drunk my hot chocolate.”
“Oh. Well, you don’t have to fear me molesting you with a plump chat-up or imposing my company on you.”
“No. I’ve imposed my company on you, at least for the duration of my stay at this bar.”
“Oh. At least?”
“Well, you still have a chance.”
“That’s up to you.”
“Oh,” he repeated. “How may I understand that?”
“That’s up to you, too.”
“A game then, of which I don’t know the rules.”
“And I only have one bet, one round.”
At this moment, my chocolate arrived, with a separate glass of Cognac. I gave the barkeeper another friendly smile, but then turned to my neighbor again. Despite the late hour, he was well shaved, smelled only decently like an expensive after shave, and his fingers appeared well-groomed. Little laugh lines highlighted the corners of his eyes. There was no chest hair sticking out of his neckline. Instead, his crotch was appropriately bulging. His hairy legs ended in canvas shoes with traces of wear.
He pointed at my drink and raised his glass of wine for a cheer. “To your health.”
I picked up the Cognac tumbler, took a brief sniff, and then I let the golden fluid run past the cream into my chocolate. The cup was almost too hot to touch. Nevertheless, I lifted it and took a large sip.
Afterward, I took my time in licking the remnants of cream and chocolate from my upper lip. My counterpart watched patiently before he took a sip himself.
“Wasn’t that too hot?”
“The Cognac cools,” I disagreed, though not entirely true.
We kept silent for a while. His gaze wandered across my body, my naked thighs, my cleavage, my face, my conveniently short hairdo.
He rocked back and forth, then assumed a straight position on his stool. “Only one bet, and the price is high. There’s no other way, I offer an All In.”
“And that means?”
“I’m François Bernardie, director of a company for … household goods. I’m forty-seven years old, unmarried, no children, no steady relationship. I have a house near Nice, a small apartment in Paris, two sports cars and a motorbike, moreover a small yacht here in the harbor. I’d like to take you with me to my yacht, where I can offer you almost everything except hot chocolate. There, I want to tear the dress off your beautiful body and enjoy a night full of riotous passion with you.”
Whatever his brief hesitation with his company’s goods might mean, his bet was indeed high. Honest, open, and to the point.
And now he waited for me to show my hand.
First, I took another sip of chocolate, watching his face. He tried hard to show patience, but his eyes moved around restlessly, and several times the corners of his mouth twitched.
Actually, I was here to ask around—and actually, I was in no hurry. My plans weren’t about single days. He appealed to me, his ways appealed to me, and I had deserved some fun. Had he deserved some fun?
“Almost perfect,” I finally praised him.
“You mentioned an All In. That’s exactly what I want of you—I want to feel all of you inside me. I want you to fill me up with your hard shaft and shoot your semen into me. Everywhere. In my wet, tight vagina, in my ass, in my mouth. As often as you can.”