Fortunately for Hugh, his wallet was jammed into one pocket of the ruined trousers. Therefore his passport, various licenses, a batch of travelers' checks and money, what there was left of it, were still intact. But that bitch, Claudia! She had deliberately stolen his things to dress that damned peasant up like a gentleman.
Holy shit, what a mess, what a damned mess!
He walked through the badly furnished villa, thinking the owner might soon be visiting, demanding rent from whoever occupied it. Since Maurier had gone that left just one person responsible. Him!
Hugh shook his head. "How in hell did I louse up my life like this?"
What hurt most of all was Claudia's treachery. He recalled how she looked in bed, the taut mounds of her breasts still firm, still rounded like melons even as she lay back. He imagined Salvatore's strong fingers squeezing the joy from those very same breasts that he himself had once held and loved, and Hugh began to shudder with rage.
"That bitch!"
Well, there was no point in crying. The deed was done even if the thought remained. In the room where Claudia had cried out her lust while Salvatore was on top of her Hugh found a pair of old shoes. Well, not shoes really, just torn canvas sneakers.
Salvatore's gift to him, the bastard. Putting them on, even though they fit badly, Hugh left the villa. In the garden he looked back, shook his head and walked uncomfortably toward the still sleeping town.
He looked at his wrist watch which he had been sensible enough not to remove during tile hot, lusty turn with the Countess. Not yet seven. No stores would be open yet, but maybe some of the beach cafйs would be serving coffee to early swimmers.
He was in luck. One place had just opened, the coffee freshly made. Hugh sat down at a table and ordered. I have got to pick myself up, I have got to! He had lost all self respect and worse, had lost the respect of others. Talk about experience! Oh, man! Maurier, the Countess, Claudia, the Baldwin's and their daughter, Jane… the faces swam before him, whirling around and around until he thought he would go crazy. He must never allow this to happen again.
Look at me now, afraid of being hauled in by the bulls, running like a thief, with a future that was, at best, uncertain. He had arrived on the Continent with a new leather suitcase filled with elegant clothing and a solid reputation. Now, a short time later, he was a drifter in dirty pants and wearing another man's castoff shoes.
His bowl of coffee arrived and while he bent over it, letting the rising steam clear his head, the waiter left a basket of rolls and jam and butter on the table.
Hugh ate, stuffing himself on the bread, and the sun was already high in the sky when he finished his third cup of coffee. Now he felt like a new person. All he had to do was formulate some worthwhile plans and go into action.
He looked at the sun-painted streets of the town, feeling somewhat elated. This was what he needed, some sun, some activity and the fiasco with Maurier and Claudia would be forgotten.
Ahh, that bitch! In all truth he could not consider her a loss because she had turned out to be so bitchy and spiteful, gaining her revenge at the end. Her love had been non-existent and the memory of her, right now, was unpleasant.
There was little good to be derived from thinking about the past. The past was a pile of cold ashes that must not be raked up.
Shortly past eight o'clock two women appeared, both dark-haired, neither of them very young, but one tall and slender with a dynamically curved body. Her melon-shaped breasts bounced freely, drawing an excited breath not only from Hugh but from the waiter on duty as well.
They chose a table next to Hugh's and during the serving of breakfast discussed the latest fashions. The younger woman had removed her black sunglasses to reveal a good-looking face with dark, deep-set eyes, a Roman nose and a large, sculptured mouth.
She caught him staring and stared back, letting him know he was damned inquisitive and had a nerve listening to a private conversation. Hugh looked away, but when he heard the woman talking about a travel agency and mentioning that she would interview applicants for a position that very morning, his mind ran ahead.
He knew the agency, located in a side street, squeezed in among boutiques and real estate offices. In might be a chance. But-he could not present himself like this, wearing just wrinkled trousers and borrowed shoes.
The stores were not open yet, so he could not purchase decent clothing, but not far off was an open air market where just about any- and everything was sold in stalls.
As the two women sauntered off, the younger one flinging her rump to the winds, the waiter whistled. "To have that for one night, eh?"
"I'd say a week with a woman like that would not be sufficient."
"She runs a travel place not far from here, that woman."
"So I gathered."
"Wild in bed I bet, when they are slim like that." The waiter felt inclined to chat. "You hear about the orgy last night? Rich people. Terrible sex practices and the bulls had to move in."
Hugh refrained from saying he was a guest. At any rate, looking so poverty-stricken as he did, the waiter would not believe him.
"Types like you and me, poor boys, we are satisfied with one woman when we are hot. Eh? Those rich bastards want group sex. Hashish. Expensive whiskey, changing of partners. No wonder the police raided that villa. I hope they catch them all."
Hugh, preparing to leave, stiffened. "Are the police still searching for guests who attended the party."
"So I understand. You know how it is with cops, especially here. They stay away from real criminals because they are afraid. But they love to go after these rich types, especially if they throw orgies. Man!"
Well, Hugh reasoned, he was safe. He had been a stranger there and in no way could be connected with the disastrous affair. Saying goodbye, he started off in the direction of the market.
At the market square, among the displays of fruit, vegetables and candy, were stalls where pizzas were baked in portable ovens. Just a few housewives out to shop were on the scene, offering Hugh the run of the market. Leather belts and jackets were for sale, as were cheap shirts, neckties, socks, shoes and the like.
Since a variety of types appeared among the shoppers, Hugh, with his bared chest and wobbling canvas shoes, did not seem so much a novelty. Better yet, he had cash and was in no mood for bargaining. He selected stuff, paid the price asked and carried the lot away.
In the shade of trucks parked a short distance away, Hugh dressed, slipping on the blue striped shirt, knotting' the too-wide tie carelessly; then the new socks, the ill-fitting suit that was a synthetic and shaded more black than blue, and finally the shoes that were of good Italian leather.
At the last moment he remembered he had forgotten to buy a comb. But by gazing into the large outside mirror tacked to the door of a truck he managed to make some order of his hair with his fingers. Thus properly attired, he was off once again to make his way in this lousy world.
The woman at the travel agency was shocked to see him. "You! What do you want?"
"To work. You said you needed someone."
She took in his appearance. "Who dressed you, a clown?"
"These were bought in a hurry because I was afraid others would be here applying for the position before me." As he spoke Hugh gestured at the wall clock which read nine.
The woman sighed. In the shadows of the agency she appeared older, in her mid-thirties. Nevertheless she still had the firm, slender body of someone ten years younger.
"Do you have working papers?" She was looking him up and down from head to toe.
"You know the rules. You can't get a working permit unless you have a job."
"I don't know." She shook her head. "I don't want to get into any difficulties with the authorities."
He pointed at the brightly colored posters pasted all about the office, depicting the glories of faraway places with strange-sounding names.
"I know all those countries. Better yet, when you get foreigners in here I can handle them."
"You do not speak Italian."
"But you do. I can speak, besides my native English, French, German, a little Spanish and even some Dutch."
"Perhaps you're more suited for a language school than a travel agency." The woman was skeptical. "Where did you learn Dutch, from some waterfront girl in Holland?"
"In South Africa, when I worked for a mining company."
"Right." She made up her mind immediately. "You will get a try."
Working hours and salary were discussed. Then, with no potential travelers looking in, the entire morning could be taken acquainting Hugh with the workings of the bureau. He was given forms to fill which would be turned over to the various government offices and… Hugh was once again among the employed.
His boss's name was Gabriella Licardia, but, not being a woman to stand on formalities, she insisted upon using first names. The agency, she explained, was one of a branch owned by a larger firm located in Rome. Although she retained the air of a snob she was actually quite helpful and secured a room for Hugh at a nearby pensione.
Soon, when she discovered that Hugh was capable of running the agency without her presence, Gabriella would appear late, often around noon. Hugh, given a free hand, found himself enjoying some happy moments.
How could he have put up with the life he led back in London. he wondered, waking so late, doing absolutely nothing except drinking and screwing and visiting the tailor or having his car checked? Even though this was all routine he felt active, healthy.
All types stopped in at the bureau; people with too much time, people with too much money, people who were lost. There were people, too, who had little time and little money and whose ideas of travel were definite. Hugh dealt with them all, offering warmth and sincerity in his manner.
He knew train and plane schedules by heart within a few days and could talk with ease about the differences among hotels in Paris, Rome, Copenhagen, Barcelona or Munich. He would unroll maps on the counter and trace with his fingers the swiftest routes to Vienna or the best-paved highway leading down to Naples.
English was the language used most often, but he found his Spanish improving as he dealt with travelers who had left the Basque area for the first time. He booked them the cheapest fares and lowest priced rooms, saving so much that they were able to extend their holidays.
Gabriella now knew what she had on her hands and not only became more friendly but more familiar. He was invited out to dinner at her expense. When he replied negatively to her question of his 'having a girl,' she smiled.
"In that case you can be my escort this evening. There's a film I wish to see and afterwards we might go dancing."
Changes in Hugh's appearance had taken place after the first week. Gone were the market-square clothes. In their stead were highly polished shoes, button-down shirts, cravats of silk knit and a well-cut gray mohair suit. A far cry from the ragged type she had first encountered at the cafй, Hugh now resembled a gentleman.
After that, further changes in Gabriella's attitude became evident. When he took her home in the evenings, instead of shaking his hand she offered her cheek to be kissed. It upset him because she was getting him excited, slowly, deliberately, and he knew that engaging in sex his boss could only mean trouble.
Still further changes in her behavior came about due to the presence of a young girl sent up from the main office in Rome. The girl not only had a magnetic personality; she was amazingly structured, like a film star in the old tradition of Sophia Loren and Gina Lollobrigida. Her function was to examine all records and fill in reports for the main office, but she was overly friendly to Hugh, hinting always of her availability in the evening.
Now Gabriella put on a campaign to prevent Hugh from falling into the hands and the bed of the young Roman charmer. She changed her hairstyle and clothing, appearing one day with a ponytail bouncing on her shoulders and her saucy hips and bottom encased in a tight pair of shorts. Even the other girl watched as Gabriella swung languidly through the office, her shorts tightening over the contours of the small but definitely shapely rump.
Hugh was in a dilemma. On the one hand here was a young girl with a figure like an hourglass after him; on the other the slender but decidedly exciting Gabriella was spreading her net.
Sex, something he had done without for a while, meant trouble. Hugh sighed; trouble was on the way.
As he studied Gabriella walking about the bureau, her rounded rear rolling smoothly and rhythmically, Hugh's lips went dry. Worse; near the filing cabinets, when she opened a drawer she deliberately shoved her buttocks into his groin, directly against his erection.
And the bitch would not move, she just kept grinding the twin cheeks into him. Hugh's only alternative was to glide his hands over her slender, curving hips in a circling action.
"Wait!"
Gabriella straightened and pivoted so that she was face to face with him, her stomach so hot, rubbing against his, her breasts feeling hard and fiery as they rested on his chest.
Hugh's knees went weak. "Stop it, stop it!"
She was whispering while keeping an eye out for the girl who was engrossed with record-keeping and making figures in a ledger book. "Tonight, after work, you may have me." Her hand went to his trouser front to feel his stiffened joint.
The girl sensed that something was going on behind her back and displayed her awareness by not speaking to either of them the rest of the day. Hugh did not care because the choice had been made for him, and that night he slept with Gabriella.
It was a satisfying experience, and with the memory of previous bed adventures dissolving in his mind, Hugh knew that sleeping with the delicious Gabriella was incredible.
Her remarkable body, tiny waist, sinuous hips and the shining, naked balls on her chest, sent him into a delirium. The smell wafting from her loins, armpits and earlobes, that musky blend of perfume, sented soap and perspiration, was terrifically heady. An when he bore down into the furry area at the juncture of her long, slender thighs, he climaxed at once.
"I am sorry." He was truly ashamed of his performance.
But Gabriella was an understanding woman. She offered conversation with comfort and when one hour had passed asked him to play with her without concentrating on an erection; then it would happen.
She took a stretched-out position, a pillow under her small buttocks elevating that part of her body. Arching like that enhanced the spherical shape and size of her globes and he kissed, stroked and cupped them before tracing a wet line with his tongue down to the big ball of fur at the summit of her thighs and the pink, trembling lips of the vagina.
Hard again, he entered, performing slowly; within no time her first, gentle manipulations had quickened. At the moment of climax she dug her hands into his waist and threw her shoulders back.
"Maaaaaaaa!" was her cry of pleasure.
After that her kisses were hot, her tongue slippery, always in action. He stroked the firm-fleshed torso, explored the roundness of her breasts, and took her again, thrusting in and out until she climaxed and he did too, shooting into her vagina, filling it like a deep well with his wet lusts.
The girl at the office knew they were lovers and took jealous exception. She questioned Hugh, asking him where he was from, his background and former experience in travel agencies.
He lied, putting her sudden dislike down to jealousy. But some mornings later they had a visitor, the boss from the main branch in Rome, a big fat Italian with a hooked nose and slicked-down hair.
Gabriella introduced Hugh, but the boss only scowled. He spoke rapidly to the young girl, who immediately withdrew a newspaper from her desk. It was several days old, folded to a three-column-long story concerning the orgy a few weeks back at the villa.
The boss shook the newspaper in Hugh's face. "Ahhh, you farabuttol"
"Me? A villain?"
"Scandalo, here, in my firm!" He turned to Gabriella. "And you, you sciagurato, sleeping with him. If I did not know your father I would get rid of you, too. This man, this macabro avvoltoio is a millionaire in disguise who attends orgies here in San Remo."
"Shut your fat face!" Hugh snatched the newspaper from the man and scanned it swiftly.
His jacket and shirt, left behind as he fled the villa that morning bore, the labels of his shirt maker and tailor and his name as well. The police had checked and, discovering his complete identity, had offered all facts to the newspaper for them to print.
"Man, oh man!"
Gabriella, still not comprehending, took the newspaper and read the headline: "Millionaire among guests at Orgy.
"Mama mia!"
"Out!" The boss pointed at the door. "Here in Italy we have such tremendous unemployment problems, and you, a foreigner possessing millions, work here, taking the bread out of some poor unemployed fellow's mouth. Out with you and I shall not pay you for the time put in here either!"
The young girl posed, flinging her big behind backwards and her tremendous breasts forward. "Hey, skinny!" She sneered at Gabriella. "How does it feel to screw a millionaire?"
Gabriella ignored her. "Hugh, you better leave. They will tell the police."
Hugh wrote his address in London on a piece of paper and gave it to her. "I don't know where I'll go now, maybe Rome, but if you want to, get in touch with me."
She was sobbing as she took the paper. "Goodbye, Hugh."
The young girl followed him out into the streets. "Your fault, rich man, for choosing the wrong woman to sleep with. I would have kept my mouth shut if you had picked me."
"Oh, you cunt!" He slapped her hard in the face. Instead of flinching the girl took the slap with a smile, her tremendous breasts bouncing. That was when Hugh knew exactly what she wanted. "Ahh, bitch, fucking me up because your pride demanded that I bang you instead of Gabriella. All right, come on!"
She looked back at the office. "My job!"
But he had her wrist captured and was pulling her down the street. "Where in hell do you live? We're going there now."
Her name was Silvana. This was all he knew about her, other than the fact that her room was too small, the bed too small, and her body, once stripped of clothing, too big! This girl had placed him among the ranks of the unemployed and since apparently employment did not suit him he was going to become once more a member of the idle rich. Here he was, a rich man about to fuck a poor girl.
Their first joining was smooth. Her big, over-ripe young body bucked under his as Hugh jabbed his prick in hard. He went into long, smooth movements, penetrating her deeper, making her cream easily but, surprisingly, silently. Instead of falling back to rest as women usually do after climaxing, Silvana tortured him with a rhythmic, up thrusting action. He rode her like a primitive man, out to destroy the thing giving him pleasure. Up, down, in, out, slamming the sausage until she yelled that her vagina would burst. Yet when she came this time she shouted out her climax and begged him to ravage her more. She arched, opening her big legs wider, rolling her ass, enabling him to burrow deeper.
"Ohh, punish me, punish me! I got you fired!" She locked her legs in his and worked to the pace of his merciless, driving pole. He hammered her willingly, glad to feel her fantastic body squirming in the flames of his lust.
Her vagina fluttered and burst again, causing her to gyrate the big ass and writhe her upper torso. Hugh flattened his palms on the bed and, looking down into the young girl's pain-filled face, raised and lowered himself, sinking the shaft deep, rubbing their matted pubic hairs crisply together.
One spasm of joy was joined by another and, with pleasures so linked as to make her come again and again, young Silvana was torn repeatedly by violent spasms. He had to redouble his speed just to remain in her.
"Ohh, come, come! Finito, per favore!"
"I can't! I… don't… want… to!"
"Aggghhh, can you fuck!"
He would pull out and then impale her in a rapid motion, going into the oiled hole, parting the cunt lips, sinking into the softness to the hilt. Each time as he rose she sighed, because a great weight had been lifted. Right where he would rest the balled tip bubbles of juice oozed out of her sopping wet quim. Then a deep jab, slow, teasing, all the way in to give that greedy snatch a thorough reaming.
Hugh felt his manhood broadening and, lunging at her with all the strength he could muster, he shot. She could only lie there, helpless, while his dick flowed, showering her insides. He gasped as his penis coughed out a few more drops of juice. Slumping upon the girl he lay still, emptied of all ammunition.
Later she said: "I shall get back to the office, but you remain here. Do you hear?"
Silvana did not wash but simply pulled her panties on up the big, somewhat fat legs over the forest of come-splattered hair and the magnificent ass. At once the panties were stained and when she pulled the flimsy dress over her damp body with those tremendous breasts, now sweated over like sprayed fruit, the garment absorbed her sweat. She left, carrying the odor of numerous climaxes.
A good fuck, but then so was Gabriella, and before her the middle-aged Countess, and luscious Claudia and young Jane. Jennifer? Well, her trouble was inexperience; but the best of all had been his sister Louise.
Hugh washed, dressed and left, knowing he was going back to London. If things did not work out there he would return to New York. After that, well, who cares? One thing for sure, he was leaving this country.
Late at night his plane landed at Heathrow Airport, London. He took a cab directly to his house and was greeted, by the doorman and another flunky on duty, like visiting royalty. Yes, he told them, he was back, but for how long was anybody's guess.
"And my sister? Or my fiancйes?"
The two men looked at each other and shrugged, not having any idea.
Hugh found the apartment stuffy, not lived in. The women must have taken their lesbian act elsewhere. He opened windows, undressed and lay down in his too-wide bed, thinking of all the narrow beds he had slept in since leaving here. He considered that since he had shown some talent at the travel agency he might open his own in London.
He slept and dreamed that a full-bodied girl had entered the room like a sylph, removed her garments and gotten into bed with him.
But when he turned over on his side, moaning, his hand fell upon two thrusting breasts and a very female leg stretched across his body. He opened his eyes, ready to cry out, and found himself facing a naked Louise.
"You!"
"Your sister, your lover!"
He could not believe it, but she was there, warm, alive, rounded and as always enticing.
"Now look, Louise, we can't start this game again." But even as he protested he was playing with her, feeling her luscious buttocks, digging his fingers into the rounded ass.
She took the position he always favored, straddling him, spreading her thighs wide and sinking down upon the club that seemed to split her apart.
"Ooo, my man! I have slept with so many since you left but… ahhhh, you're still the best."
His sister hesitated, using her knees to guide her weight, balancing herself on her lovely, always shapely thighs. There, there, she was getting it all in, the balled tip, the full length. All!
He closed his eyes as he was taken up into the cave of paradise. The moist opening employed strong suction, the lips clamped tightly and the nubby clitoris exerted pressure. Ahhh, yeahhh, he was gasping, he was stiffening all over and muscle spasms sent him going up into a weird rhythm.
Louise twisted snake-like, wringing the penis, threading her hole like a nut over a bolt, obtaining the greatest amount of pleasure possible. Hard, like a rodeo participant, she rode him, sighing as his body rolled between her quivering thighs.
"Ahhh, brother mine!"
Her cry was followed by violent motions and she collapsed just as he arched, unleashing a flood of joy. He gripped her arms to haul himself up as he climaxed, shouting into her face.
"I am finished!"
"But l am not finished!"
Swiftly, before the fire was doused in her brother, Louise took the sixty-nine position. Her twitching buttocks were glued to his face. Her head went down between his opened thighs to tackle the not yet limp instrument. And he behaved as expected, washing her privates clean.
The two people called upon their remaining sexual energies to make savages of each other, and they fought as orgasms rocked them. The rounded backside kept hammering against his forehead as the girl's pleasure kept building up.
Afterwards, finished as they were, there was nothing more to be done in the name of passion. Separating they fell back, sleeping at once in the position in which they had fallen.
But the morning brought something new and unexpected into Hugh's life. He felt fingers fumbling at his thighs and then an ache shot up his shaft. Sharp tips of a female's nails scratched his erected tool and he blinked the sleep from his eyes, to find not Louise fellating him but his ex-fiancйe, Jennifer!
"Hey!" Nearby Louise slept soundly, snoring, while the dark-haired Jennifer chewed him up, her teeth holding his manhood firmly in position while her lips worked it over.
Jennifer's slender, big-titled body trembled with hot emotion. He spread his legs apart and moved his hips forward, shoving his thing deeper within her mouth. She sucked until the trembling started. The hot and cold chills caused by her tongue had him quivering uncontrollably as he came. Then it was over and he was lying back, thinking this was crazy.
She spat out the joy juice. "Welcome back. We're going to make an infernal trio. You, me, your sister."
Hugh could only groan.