"Do you like it this way?"
She groaned in affirmation, surprised at how turned on this man made
her feel.
Again he with drew, and again she was turned over.
By now
her body was sheened with sweat, and she felt as exhausted as if she
had run a marathon.
He slid his hands roughly under her buttocks, his
fingers kneading her flesh, as he pulled her towards him.
Through
half-closed eyes she could see his face.
He was smiling, and his black
hair was dishevelled.
"Can Draven keep it up this long?"
His voice was savagely
triumphant.
"Do you want to come, Jacey?"
His mouth was close to her ear.
"Ask me nicely.
Beg me.
You're exhausted, aren't you?
I'll make you
come, but you've got to beg."
He entered her once more, with a strong
thrust.
"Otherwise I can keep going for a very long time."
"I told you once," she panted.
"I don't beg."
She heard him laugh, and tried to contract her muscles and pull him
deeper, forcing him into an orgasm against his will.
He frustrated her
by shortening his thrusts, making them shallow and fast.
They battled
for supremacy for a little longer, until Jacey suddenly felt an
overwhelming desire for relief, even if it meant admitting defeat.
"Yes," she groaned.
"Yes, please, now."
His rhythm, changed to accommodate hers rather than fight it, and she
felt him search between her legs again with his long, expert fingers.
Then the sudden intensity of her own orgasm blinded her to everything
else.
As her sensations subsided she realised that he had climaxed with
her.
She had a strong suspicion that he had probably been nearer to reaching
the end of his undoubtedly impressive staying power than he wanted her
to believe.
But after all, she felt so happily exhausted and fulfilled
that she did not care which of them had won.
He helped her to a chair, and tidied himself up.
She lay back and
closed her eyes.
She heard him open the wine cabinet, heard the clink
of bottles and then felt him put a glass in her hand.
She sipped the
wine with her eyes still closed and sighed.
This really was the best
kind of exhaustion, she thought.
How lovely it would be to be lifted
into a wide bed, with fresh, white sheets, and fall asleep.
"The car will be round for you in five minutes," Nicolas said.
"Put your dress back on."
The abrupt order brought her sharply back to the present.
She opened
her eyes.
"So that's it?"
she said.
He smiled at her cynically.
"What else is there, Jacey?
I told you not to expect any romantics.
This isn't that kind of relationship.
You wanted sex, and so did I.
Didn't you enjoy it?"
"Yes."
He poured himself a glass of wine while she struggled into her dress,
the silk clinging to her damp skin.
"My women always do," he said.
"Not another exciting invitation?"
Ingrid perched on Jacey's desk as
she opened her morning mail.
"Another boring invitation," Jacey corrected her.
"It's amazing what having sex with the right man will do for your
social life," Ingrid observed.
"Please hurry up and finish with Nicolas Schlemann, and give him to
me."
Jacey laughed.
"I don't think Nicolas would approve of being handed over as a
present," she said lightly.
To her surprise she found it impossible
not to like ingrid Gustaffsen.
The Swede had already had brief flings
with some of the patients in La Primavera, both male and female.
She
was also a very good doctor, and Jacey was trying to persuade her to
spend some time at El Inviemo.
"If I gave him good sex, Nicolas would approve.
And I always give good
sex."
Ingrid crossed her long legs.
"What does he like?
Tell me, please.
If it's something I have never
done before, I'll go away and learn about it."
"From what you've been telling me," Jacey said, 'there isn't anything
you haven't done before."
"Oh, you're so flattering."
Ingrid laughed.
"But I know it's only because you want me to go with you to that funny
little native hospital.
It's guilt, you know?
You slap on a few
dressings to sublimate your guilt about the money you're earning here."
She stretched, and exhaled contentedly.
"Certainly, this is a sinecure.
So many opportunities to fill up the
piggy bank.
Do you know how much Senora Ittapaz gave me to go down on
her?
I won't tell you, because you'll be envious, and wish you'd got
there first."
"I wouldn't," Jacey said, opening another envelope.
"Poor woman," Ingrid sighed.
"She is so bored, so frustrated.
Her husband wanted her to walk around
the house wearing only high-heeled shoes and stockings, and she
refused.
So now he doesn't touch her, and pays whores to do it
instead.
Personally, I would have obliged him.
This is a warm country, after all, and I like to walk around naked
anyway, so what the hell?
The Senora wants me to visit her when she
goes home, and maybe I will.
Senor Ittapaz is hardly ever there.
He
has a plantation or something, somewhere or other, and he spends most
of his time there."
She giggled suddenly.
"Perhaps he gets all his staff to walk about naked?
Or maybe only the
pretty ones?"
"A plantation worked by underpaid Indians," Jacey said.
Ingrid shrugged.
"It's an unfair world.
You can't change it overnight.
It's too big, too complicated."
"If everyone thought like that, there wouldn't be any changes at all,"
Jacey said.
"But you're not a politician," Ingrid said.
"Your job is to make people well."
She watched Jacey toss another
invitation card into the wastepaper bin.
"And maybe enjoy yourself a little," she added.
"Surely you can accept just one party invitation?"
She paused.
"And invite me to come with you?"
Jacey laughed.
"OK," she said.
She waved an embossed card at ingrid.
"This one.
A polo match.
A nice, healthy afternoon in the open
air."
"Well, that sounds great."
Ingrid obviously approved.
"Lots of rich, young men in very tight, white trousers.
Will Nicolas
be there?"
"In tight white trousers?"
Jacey grinned.
"Maybe."
"So you'll introduce me?"
ingrid hinted.
"Maybe," Jacey said.
Jacey didn't even know where the polo ground was, but Ingrid had found
out all the necessary details,
and had arranged a car.
She was slightly miffed when Jacey insisted on
using Paulo as chauffeur.
"His car is an old wreck," she said.
"It isn't," Jacey said.
"It's clean, and Paulo needs the money."
"You are a one-woman charity," Ingrid grumbled.
"No doubt he will expect a large tip as well."
Paulo seemed politely pleased to see Jacey again, but she sensed this
was simply a business facade.
Clearly he had heard about her
association with Nicolas and, as she expected, it had altered their
original relationship.
Paulo was wary now.
Despite working at El
Inviemo, she had placed herself in the enemy camp.
But not for long,
she thought; in a few weeks' time, everything will change.
I won't be
Nicolas Schlemann's woman.
I'll be his nemesis.
And I'll be looking
to you, dear Paulo, to help me get revenge!
When they reached the polo club Jacey was amused to see Ingrid hang
back and slip Paulo a handful of money.
"I doubt if Paulo expected quite that big a tip," she murmured, when
Ingrid caught up with her again.
"I was just ensuring that he will be here to take you home," Ingrid
said.
"To take us home, you mean?"
Jacey said.
"I intend to go home with someone exciting," Ingrid proclaimed.
"I
hope to get off with a nice polo player."
Given that ambition Jacey wondered why Ingrid had not dressed in a more
feminine fashion.
She was wearing a pale linen suit, tailored in a
rather severe style, and a matching, wide-brimmed trilby hat.
Combined with her long-legged, angular frame, it looked decidedly
masculine.
Jacey had chosen a summer dress in a subtly printed, silky
material, with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt that clung to her
hips and legs when the wind stirred.
Her hair was loose, and she wore
a simple, brimmed straw hat to protect her head from the sun.
She had been rather worried that her outfit would look too casual, but