This story carries on with Geoff and Julie, whom I introduced in "Birth of a Porn Star?" It is nine months later and they are Flying off with Geoff's 18 and 19 year old sons, John and Ian, to a small luxury resort on St Lucia.
Julie was excited at the prospect of a holiday on a Caribbean Island, with Geoff and his Family. She had never been farther than the Mediterranean. The Hotel had just 20 Luxury Villas, each with their own pool, facing a small Palm fringed beach, with clean dazzling white sand. There were advantages to a rich Partner, though she hadn't been attracted by his money, or so she hoped. He was nearly twenty years older than her, but she liked the maturity and calm he bought to her disordered, busy life, as a Senior Children's Nurse.
Julie had a friendly, but on her side at least, uneasy relationship, with Geoff's children. He had persuaded her to give John and Ian a very hands on, "Practical", Human Biology lesson the previous Christmas. Despite her embarrassment, it had been very enjoyable and their agreement to never mention it again, had held, so far.
A car was coming to collect them and whilst she prepared Geoff and her luggage, the boys were doing theirs. They bought in a small package and gave it to her.
"For me, how kind," Julie simpered, they had a relationship based on mutual teasing and tricks.
She opened it and held up two garments, with three small patches of pink material, connected by cord. Holding it to her face, she turned to them furiously.
"This time you've gone to far, I'm telling your Father, no, I'm telling Scotland Yard," She hissed and drove them out of her room, beating them with the smallest Bikini she had ever seen.
And if you think you are ever going to see me dressed in this,, this, THING, then think again."
Melodrama over, they collapsed in giggles and went back to packing. Geoff came upstairs,
"Are you three fighting again, I won't have it, do you here?" He said in mock severity.
Now you're getting to excited about the Holiday, calm down and behave like an adult. Yes, I'm talking to you Julie." Who collapsed with another fit of giggles.
She held up the tiny scrap of pale pink material and gift paper.
"Well, you can't blame he boys for trying, can you?" He finished, with a raised eyebrow.
"Alright, alright, I'll wear it at least once, with everyone at least 100 yards away. Look, see, I'm putting it in the case, see."
Their encounter nine months before, had made a deep impression on the boys and their trousers. She had managed to keep them at bay, with good humour and luck, since then. In fact she made a similar impression on most men she met. Not just beautiful, which many women are, she exuded a musk of raw sexuality. How did some women have that, Geoff mused to himself? Probably it was just that she looked like she enjoyed it, no loved it and was good at it. It being sex, of course.
He gave her a long appraising look. Dark natural blond hair to her Shoulders, a firm but very curvy figure, topped by her best feature, large 36C Breasts, that had never been near a Surgeon's scalpel and still didn't need a Bra. Not for the first time, he wondered what he had ever done in life, to deserve such good fortune.
"What are you looking at me like that for? Just take me to bed and fuck me, will you, there's a good boy?"
So that's what they did.
Next morning they were up and breakfasted by 9AM, when the car arrived. Yes, that's right, a chauffeured car. No struggling with a heavy case on the Tube or Coach to London Heathrow anymore, just whispering along in a Limo, with bags carried into the Airport for them. A quick whisk through Business Class Check In and the VIP lounge, with a glass of Champagne. In the past she had wondered about the rich bastards in there. Now she was there herself and didn't feel a bit guilty, not one bit. She had worked twelve hour days for years in a Children's Hospital, for a Salary to small to live on in London. Perhaps she had it coming, a small piece of Justice. Then there were the seats on the plane, which actually had leg room, pillows and blankets to sleep, food that was edible. OK, that wasn't quite true, food that wasn't totally inedible; a little advance on normal.
The eight hour flight was almost enjoyable for a change. Arriving in late afternoon, another Limousine from the Hotel met them. The journey across the Island was interesting in itself, Banana Plantations with all the Bananas wrapped in blue plastic, why? Finally they descended to the small bay, with their Hotel at it's head and no other visible buildings at all. The Manager greeted them, Geoff was an old friend, having been three times before. He took them to their Villa, large, thatched in Palm leaves and all wood. The Showers were out in the open, at the back of the building. Julie was entranced, as they were shown the TV, Air Conditioning and other facilities. The boys rushed off to change into Swimming Costumes, to cool off in their own Pool.
Peter, the Manager, sat them down, to explain the Hotel's Philosophy, very laissez fair.
"You'll remember all this Sir, but it will be new to this beautiful Lady, so I will go through some of the ground rules again.
The staff are all here to make your stay as perfect as possible. They are available to help with Personal Service, when not otherwise working and would normally expect a tip for this. Otherwise, there are no restrictions on your pleasure. There are child guests, all over 16, but the age of consent on the Island is 18. We protect the young ones with great care and would ask that Sexual activity with Staff or other Guests, be discreet.
Sorry if I have embarrassed you Madam. We look forward to seeing you all at Dinner. If there is nothing else, I will leave you."
He left their Villa and Julie, who had been getting redder and redder during the talk, burst into giggles.
"Where have you bought me, a high class Brothel, you bad man?
It's all clear now, you just want to watch me get naked and fucked by the staff, or other guests. That sounds good to me by the way, but still, are their any limits to your depravity?"
She smiled and rolled over to tickle him.
