Soon, Ann would be driving to the airport – Mike's private air strip somewhere near Calistoga where he also owned his own vineyard and health spa complete with mud baths and swimming pools filled with mineral water – and she would be hurled away through the skies to Mexicali. Would be an exciting weekend if it weren't for the company, she thought as she hooked the gold loop of her earring in place.
A shiver of anticipation swept over her and she finished her drink and headed for the living room where she put on the latest album of her favorite musician-a jazz flutist. Its soft lulling tones and rhythms soothed her crucified soul. She had dressed and made up carefully to please Mike and, setting her glass down on the end table, examined herself in the full length mirror. Ann felt an unguarded pride in her perfectly formed body as now seen in the diffused glow of the sunlight. Sometimes she felt so old inside, yet the proof of her voluptuous youth could be seen in the fresh bloom of her firmly rounded breasts with their lush pink areolas peeking through her voile calf-length dress with a deep cleavage which accentuated her tiny hourglass waist that flowed as in an artist's careful line down to the taut girlish curve of her full swelling thighs.
Good choice, contemplated Ann as she secured her stockings a bit tighter, hooking the colorless top of her deep rose garter belt. The coo-coo clock struck three. "God! I have to be there in an hour and a half!" Whereas Dante? "Dante?" she screamed, heading for the back door of the kitchen. "Come in here and eat!"
She rattled some dry food into his red dish labeled with his name, and poured out the stale water to replace it with mineral water from the large container in the refrigerator that was refilled by a distributor every week. "What a spoiled animal," she mused as she petted her dog goodbye – he was her most faithful and appreciative male friend. "Too bad you're not human," she said, kissing him on his black and carmel spotted head. "At least you're always around, not like your master, John."
Grabbing her shawl and bag, Ann was out the door and well on her way to what she hoped to be freedom.
Winding her way through the country roads of Sonoma County, she found it unnecessary to consult the map Mike had so humorously included in the letter. Ann remembered every twist and turn in the mountain road that swirled and curled its way up to the summit where Mike's country estate, complete with Ionic columns and marble stairways, waited to, capture her in its cobweb of lewd memories.
An hour later, a Lear jet flew her, alone, to Mexicali. Ann remembered little of the flight except for pangs of fear bubbling in her empty stomach still churning from the glass of wine she'd poured into her growling belly before time prevented her from eating.
Her destination proved to be the country estate of Pedro Cortes, a rich nobleman who lived in Bogota, Columbia, but also owned this property high in the Mexican hills, surrounded by acres and acres of fertile green territory. Mike's pilot escorted her to the door of the mansion where one of their host's servants came out to meet them personally and he and Mike's pilot, Ed, greeted each other like longl ost brothers. Pedro's servant, Ceasar, was a slender well-dressed man in his thirties, with a finely chiseled aristocratic face. His large sensual eyes narrowed visibly as Ed introduced him to Ann and the girl felt a chill of interest pass through her lush young body and breasts. Ann wondered what wild, erotic experiences awaited her here on this secluded estate-thousands of miles away from John.
Ann was offered a glass of superb Mexican red wine and she felt it shoot immediately to her head as she drank thirstily. She reminded herself how all her troubles started with that fateful drunken party of Mike's years ago, but she failed to see how things could possibly get any worse than they were at the moment and she was parched from the long ride, so she drank her fill, reasoning that whatever was going to happen would be easier to accept lightheaded.
The big negro, Ross, brushed by Ann's naked elbow and whispered something inaudible in his sloppy English about her sweet honey cunt, and Ann winced. She hesitated now before making her appearance. Slowly she walked into the crowded room. It was like one of Mike's typical parties: lots to drink, plenty of exotic food which she nibbled at, a sip of wine following each spicy mouthful.
Ann mingled with the crowd of half Mexicans, half Americans, feeling less conspicuous that way. Through the swirl of smoke and talk and faces, there was a profile that made her jump with a strange combination of joy and sorrow. It was Trudy! Trudy! She pushed her way through the crowd of chattering men and brown Mexican servant girls whose fannies were slapped and whistled at repeatedly, and wormed her way across the room.
Forcing her way through the crowd, Ann kept her eyes on her long time pal who stood casually smoking a cigarette which dangled from her purple polished nails, her brown curly hair bobbing with the nod of her head as she exchanged remarks with a Mexican servant who stood before her with a tray of Mexican pastries.
"Trudy!" screamed Ann, throwing her lithe arms around her estranged friend's neck.
"Ann, Ann Bailey!" Trudy's drink fell soundlessly onto the paisley carpet. "Let me look at you!" She forced her past cohort in shame to step back a few feet, her arms extended with her palms resting on Ann's shoulders. "You look great!" Trudy studied her figure with alluring surprise.
Heads turned and mouths gaped at the girls who stood clinging to each other, screeching in high voices.
"You are the last person in the world I expected…" they mouthed the words simultaneously and giggled girlishly.
Stuffing their mouths with pastries and sipping the pungent red wine, the two women exchanged stores: Ann told of her happy marriage to John Barot and Trudy of her continued flying career. They looked at each other questioningly then, the obvious question on the tips of their tongues: Trudy broke the silence of their silent thoughtful probings.
"Are you still seeing Mike?"
"God no!" Ann shook her head, unable to stare her friend in the eye. "Just got a letter from his secretary yesterday and since my exams were over with, thought I'd take him up on it for old times."
Trudy could sense a look of shame in Ann's down-cast eyes. "Same thing happened to me. Believe me, Anna" she laid her slender hand on her friend's tanned arm, "I wouldn't fall into that trap again for the world!" She took another deep sip of her wine. "I just happened to have the weekend off, and since I was going to be in California, I thought I'd check out the action."
There was silence for a moment, a very uncomfortable silence Ann sensed, until Trudy finished Ann's thought for her. "You know I'm really sorry for ever dragging you along to that party – I mean when you first met him." Ann needed no further explanation as to who 'him' was.
"Don't worry about it," reassured Ann. "It was my choice. Nobody made me do anything. I just wish I had met John years before."
"Did you know I had nothing to do with him until you left? Absolutely nothing!" Trudy shook her head convincingly. "He kind of bribed me into going out with him one night just to pry and find out where you'd gone to. But God! You didn't let anybody know. Not even me." Trudy sounded sad.
In the distance, behind Trudy's curly brown head, Ann could see the familiar face of Mike Boston, watching prudently from afar. "Wonder what that son of a bitch is up to," muttered Ann into her nearly empty wine glass as she tilted it to her mouth, knowing full well that Mike was up to some sexual scheming.
She feigned a smile and excused herself, wanting to be the first to make a move.
"Well hello, Mike," she sauntered over salaciously.
"How are you? Nice party."
"Oh, just fine," she lied offhandedly. "Just give me a few more days and he'll be as willing as a hungry dog to make that flight." John, please forgive me! she thought prayerfully in silence.
Mike gave a false laugh and guided her in the direction of a dark Latin American with dark glittering eyes that mentally undressed her. "I want you to meet the man who will be furnishing the plane for your husband's adventure, Ann."
Ann extended her arm to the dashing South American. He's not nearly as repulsive as most of Mike's friends, she reassured herself as Pedro bowed deeply, kissing her hand.
"Pedro, meet Ann. I'm sure I've told you about this lovely woman," he said rhetorically, his eyes meeting Pedro's with a knowing look that did not escape unnoticed.
"Happy to make your acquaintance," Ann said in a strong convincing voice, grateful that it did not fail her.
Standing next to Pedro was a Turkish man who was introduced to her as Mr. Golgan. His mustache twittered as. Ann gracefully held out her hand to him in turn and she could smell his heavily scented perfume that clouded her mind with its sweet aroma, like incense.
Having maintained her polite posture through the painful ordeal of meeting the very men who would cause her pilot husband's downfall, Ann dragged Mike by the elbow and shockingly enough, he did not resist.
"You seem anxious, my dear. Something wrong?" Mike's piercing eyes shot through her like a hot knife in the back.
"Just want to know what you're up to? What's Trudy doing here? She part of your little game too?"
Before Ann could finish her angry assault on the fiendish Mike Boston, Pedro was moving calmly among his friends, ordering the servants to leave bottles of wine at various strategic locations throughout the room and then dismissed them for the evening-the male servants, that is. A select few of the young Mexican women were ordered to stay.
"Looks as if Pedro has arranged some entertainment for us," said Mike grabbing at Ann's elbow. "Would you care to stay and watch? You might benefit from it," he added ominously.
The crowd started moving in the direction of the veranda where Ann could see the darkness and a handful of stars twinkling over head, as if winking back at her in mockery. Several of the people had already left or filtered off into bedrooms, Ann wasn't certain which: but whatever the situation, she knew there was no way out of this house without some trick of Mike's to debase and humiliate her.
The coolness of the night air felt like a cold shower on Ann's bare arms and it was a relief to be out of the smoke-filled room. Mike had left her now, and she wondered where Trudy might be. Probably in bed with a servant, she laughed to herself. A jazz combo was setting up in one corner of the brick-lined patio, and servants were setting up a long buffet table of tacos, salads, enchiladas, guacamole and Mexican pastries. A beautiful young Mexican girl dressed in a peasant blouse and colorful embroidered full skirt offered her a glass of wine which Ann anxiously accepted.
"How are you?" she heard the voice of Ed, Mike's pilot behind her.
Turning, she greeted him and, for the first time, noticed the young man's blonde curly hair and sparkling blue eyes. Either I'm getting drunk, she reflected, or these men are getting better looking as the time wears on. Probably that lurid scene yesterday with my gym teacher raping her student is responsible for my change of heart.
"I see we are going to have some music," Ed said, trying to fill the obvious gap in conversation. "Maybe some entertainment, too."
"What's it like working for Mike?" she asked, taking a long sip of her delicious red Mexican wine.
"I don't talk about my work. I know better." Thus ended the conversation on that matter.
"You're a beautiful young woman," remarked Ed confidently, "and smart too. You're in school, right?" She nodded her head. "What are you doing with Mike?" He asked the obvious question and she faltered before answering.
"I don't know." She took another sip. "What's going to happen?" she changed the subject as a servant hooked up another set of lanterns in the veranda next to an improvised stage where the combo was beginning to play familiar old melodies.
Now a tall, beautiful black woman, her height and wild Afro hairdo suggesting she was one of Mike's jokes, walked briskly in front of the jazz combo, dragging a small peasant Mexican boy behind her. She was dressed in a long flowing gown of bright African sunset colors which covered her from her bold square shoulders to the floor.
The congo drummer started playing a catchy beat and the black woman teased the small boy – probably thirteen, Ann guessed – into the area of the spotlight. With a pull of her strong long arm, the black woman wound him up like a yo-yo in a jitterbug step and then whirled him around in dizzying circles.
Ann felt sorry for the young boy who looked healthy and ravishingly beautiful and excited as he eyed the buffet table, piled high with beautiful food. His young face and sparkling dark eyes pierced Ann's heart as the youthful boy, innocent and maybe virginal, tried to follow the practiced steps of the woman who undoubtedly was a professional dancer, from Las Vegas. The black woman, her face a little wicked and hungry, was smiling at the crowd as if there was some secret that they shared, and as she swayed in time with the tempo, Ann could see the heaviness of her full breasts swaying freely.
At a certain point, the black woman stepped behind the lithe young Mexican boy and put her hands on his frail shoulders. The boy must have been told what to expect, or just didn't care, because he showed no surprise as the beautiful black woman began running her hands lasciviously over the young boy's body. The two of them danced together for a moment; the boy seeming to enjoy the physical touch of the aggressive older woman.
"What do you think that's all about?" Ann queried the pilot beside her.
"Don't know. Probably one of Mike's tricks," he answered dryly.
Ann turned to see the two bodies of the dancers pressed tightly together back to front, and then the black woman's hands traveled sensuously to where her partner's shirt was hanging open button less in the front.
Ann and Ed continued their conversation, turning their backs to the spectacle that gyrated and twirled on the brightly lit stage. Ed slipped his arm around Ann's waist, smiling innocently down into her dark brown;eyes and pulled her unresisting form closer.
They turned to see the young Mexican boy dressed in his white cotton pants, secured at the waist by a single string that gathered the pants tightly around his thin waist. Ann groaned as she watched the now savagely smiling woman lower, her voluptuous curved body to his chest and, still swaying her ebony buttocks sensuously in time to the drum music, kiss each immature nipple on the boy's chest. Never once did he flinch or take his eyes off sensuously swaying breasts.
To his surprise, Ann did not pull away from Ed, as he had expected, but allowed her weight to rest against his chest, as if they were old familiar lovers.
The young, dark-skinned boy was now clad only in his skimpy ankle-high pants and he shivered visibly as he turned, still moving gracefully in time to the music, facing the older woman. The crowd gasped now, at least some of those unacquainted with Mike's rancid sense of humor as the woman mechanically unfastened the long flowing gown decorating her colorful body and let it fall to the floor as she shook her shoulders impatiently. She was now totally naked.
The boy was shocked; for a moment he stood flat-footed, completely losing the music's beat and staring at the lovely curved black flesh which had unexpectedly been revealed to him.
The tall woman simply smiled, paying very little attention to the crowd now gathered around her and her massive swinging breasts rocked back and forth as she shook her body to the increasing tempo of the music. Her eyes locked on her young victim's face, the black woman slowly dropped to her knees, her body still swaying sensuously from side to side and her hands running down from the young boy's shoulders to his slender hips. With a sudden movement, his pants were untied and pulled off and flew into the air.
Ann watched the boy shudder nakedly before the laughing audience and she wished she could rescue him from this humiliation that she herself had experienced at the hands of Mike. The boy looked fearfully in the direction of Mike and Pedro Cortes, inching Ann's speculation that the boy had been bribed with sex. Mike and Pedro laughed ribaldry in a dark corner of the veranda.
Still on her knees, the black woman began running her lips lightly over the boy's soft yielding stomach. At first the boy tried to play along with this unnatural affection, continuing to sway back and forth, tiny beads of perspiration forming on his back and rolling down over his firm tensed buttocks.
The big woman's lips dropped to the quivering boy's tiny hairless public region and Ann could see her thick red tongue licking lewdly at the stub of the boys pubescent penis. The boy stared down at the slavering woman and taking her by the hair, tried to pull her tighter to him. With a grunt, the unrelenting woman tipped him backwards, spilling him flat on his back and then, moving with surprising speed, climbed over him in the "69" position, pinning her young lover securely to the floor.
The crowd jeered and laughed at the wildly excited boy. "Something I've felt myself," muttered Ann in tones too low to be heard by Ed whose attention was growing more evident each moment as he caressed her covered breasts.
Excitement from the lewd display was now spreading voraciously around the room and Ann saw several Mexican peasants being grabbed at, their elastic-topped peasant blouses pulled well below their nipples.
Ann took another sip of wine and watched the black woman who was now burying her face in the virile young loins of her young boy lover. His head flailed from side to side as he swirled his young tongue deep up into the black woman's pubic region which she was grinding hotly above his tiny face.
A drunken Mexican peasant girl, apparently heated by the lewd tableau and a generous allotment of wine, leaped to the stage and pulling him free of the hungry woman, offered herself in sacrifice. The girl pulled up her full skirt and lay in the position the boy had occupied moments before. With a lusty groan, the boy, aroused now as he probably never had been before, began swirling his heated young tongue tightly up into her openly moistening pussy.
Ann stood sadly shaking her head. No doubt it was Mike's idea to lead him into wild sexual debauchery at his tender age.