The Maestro (3 page)

'Thanks
Alfonso.'

'Don't mention
it. We can meet in La Cafe De L'Opera in two hours say,' Alfonso
said scrutinising his watch.

'Fine.' Why
did she feel so disappointed? Why on earth did she feel so
horny?

The room was
quite spartan and simple, but it did have a fantastic view of Las
Ramblas, the beautiful walkway that led from La Plaza Catalunya to
the port of the city. At this time it was always crowded. She could
hear the sound of a half decently played violin cutting through the
balmy air.

As she gazed
at the evening strollers and the beautiful flower stalls in the
fading dusk light her tiredness suddenly overwhelmed her. She
slumped onto the hard mattress of the bed and fell asleep almost
instantly.

She woke up an
hour later with a jolt, aware of being brought back to
consciousness by a disturbing dream. She could not recall the
events of her dream; all she knew was that the main protagonist was
not Sebastian or even Alfonso, but Luke.

My God, how
long had it been since she had last thought about him? Luke had
been a steady boyfriend before Sebastian had appeared on the scene,
another aristocrat too. They had had a good relationship or so
Linda had thought before that holiday. She knew why she had dreamed
about him, why he should have so violently entered her
consciousness just as she was about to set off on a new adventure.
It was for the same reason that she was attracted to Alfonso.
Maybe, she pondered, it was a portent of what might happen, of what
she might want to happen.

They had gone
to Greece, to Crete, for a fortnight. It had been her idea: at the
time she was writing her thesis on primitive art. She had spent a
lot of time in Heraklion studying and sketching those tiny priapic
clay figures with their gleeful smiles and their enormous
phalluses, while Luke had lounged by the hotel swimming pool, or so
she had thought.

One day she
had returned to the hotel early, feeling a little guilty that she
had deserted him for so long. They were supposed to be on holiday
together after all, and the previous night Luke had made some
casual remark about her having found some Adonis in the city.

Their room was
on the second floor of the hotel; a little balustraded passageway
led to its door. She was looking forward to surprising him, but it
was he who had surprised her and in a way that she could never have
imagined.

She heard them
before she saw them. Her pace slackened, as her heart began to
race; she knew instantly that something was going on. Two beautiful
Greek girls were naked in their room. They couldn't have been more
than twenty. They had beautiful swarthy skin. One of the girls,
Alexandra she would later discover from Luke before she left him
forever, had round fulsome breasts with big, thick upturned
nipples, beautiful plump buttocks, and hips that curved to a
surprisingly narrow waist. The other girl, Nena, was slighter with
a small, pert bottom, startling nut-brown hair, and small perfectly
round breasts.

The sight that
met her incredulous eyes was Luke kneeling on the bed rolling his
long tongue over the dusky flesh of Alexandra's bottom, while Nena
lay under Luke, holding on to his heavy balls and furling her
tongue around his sturdy pole.

Linda was so
astounded by the scene that she was rooted to the spot. She could
not help but stare into the room through the tiny crevice where the
ill-fitting blinds did not totally cover the window.

Maybe it was
the memory of the previous night that gradually began to make her
feel excited. She had lain in a similar position under Luke's
haunches and sucked on him until he had freed his penis from the
greedy grasp of her mouth and masturbated over her. His jism had
shot all over her face. Maybe it was just the sight of the
beautiful girl fellating Luke - Linda could see the bulge of his
helmet stretching out the flesh of her cheek. She should have been
furious at his betrayal - she did feel furious - but her anger was
blanked first by her stunned amazement and in its wake a growing,
perturbing sensation of being aroused by the spectacle.

Luke roughly
pushed Alexandra to one side and pulled out of Nena's mouth. Then,
as roughly, he grabbed the slimmer girl by the wrist and pulled her
up into a kneeling position, so that both girls knelt side by side.
In the semidarkness of the room, Linda could see their tanned
bottoms exposed before her.

As Luke turned
to face the window, she had to move quickly so that he would not
see her. He walked to the small chair in the corner of the room.
There was only a wall's thickness between them. He was tugging at
his trousers. Linda could hear the jingle of coins. For a moment
she wondered what he was doing until he came back into view and she
could resume watching, knowing that she couldn't be seen. He had
removed his leather belt from his slacks and having furled the
buckle end around his hand was now standing over the girls. His arm
arched backwards.

It seemed to
happen in slow motion, the belt coming down, swishing through the
dark air before landing on Alexandra's firm, plump bottom. Linda
heard the thwack, the smart, crisp noise the leather made on the
swarthy flesh. The girl's bottom writhed involuntarily with the
pain the lash caused, but even before her flesh was stilled, he
struck her again, a pained but excited shriek emitting from between
Alexandra's pursed lips.

Luke seemed to
be in some kind of demonic fury. He stepped a couple of feet back,
then a couple sideways and lashed Nena even harder. She moaned at
the lash, her perter rump jerking against the oppressive crack of
leather. Luke lashed her again. Nena reached her hand upward
between her splayed thighs to feel the reddened marks Luke had made
on her.

Alexandra
looked behind her momentarily. Again, Linda had to move quickly to
avoid detection, but not until she had caught a glimpse of the
face. She recognised her instantly. She'd seen her the previous
night down by the beach, this beautiful girl with the stunning
ink-black hair walking hand in hand with the fat, oleaginous
proprietor of the hotel. It all clicked in her mind, and she hadn't
said anything to Luke, even though she had noticed Luke looking at
her: Linda had assumed she was a prostitute.

The lash came
down in alternate strokes now on each of the girl's buttocks, the
depth of Nena's moaning contrasting with Alexandra's delirious
high-pitched squeal every time Luke brought the belt down on her
sumptuous bottom. Linda noticed a gleam of perspiration covering
Luke's. As he tossed his hand back beyond his body, his knuckles
white and taut with gripping the belt, his muscular torso tensed,
Linda could see his cock was steel-hard.

After lashing
each girl at least ten times, he grabbed at Nena, and pulling her
roughly by the neck, sank his rod into the velvet moistness of her
unprotesting mouth. Alexandra remained where she was, passively
waiting on the bed for Luke to continue to whip her with his belt.
He flicked his wrist with greater power a moment before the leather
made contact with the flesh so that the force of the blow would be
even greater.

So as one girl
sucked him avidly and seemingly with pleasure, even though Luke
pushed her head hard onto his slicked pole, he overlaid the
reddened bottom of her carnal companion with sharp, incisive
strokes of the belt.

Linda could
not quite see Luke's face, but his actions bespoke of a kind of
manic restlessness, as if nothing he did could quite satiate him:
no position he found with the two luscious girls could bring balm
to his febrile lust.

No sooner had
the brunette steadied herself into a rhythm, bobbing up and down on
Luke's swollen shaft, than he picked her up as she squatted before
him and pushed her onto the bed so his testicles flopped over her
face. Then angling Alexandra's bottom and splaying her thighs
wider, he entered her, vigorously thrusting inside her, at the same
time as the now supine Grecian beauty arched her neck so that her
tongue could lick the rough skin of Luke's scrotum.

Having his
hands free, the belt having been discarded with alacrity, he slid
his hands first around Alexandra's fat pussy lips, before reaching
under her voluptuous torso and grasping her heavy, swinging
breasts, pinching the erect nipples hard between forefinger and
thumb in time to each stroke of his cock.

Two or three
times he withdrew his engorged tool from the tight velvet opening
to force the dome of his slicked shaft between the waiting mouth of
the girl below him, pushing down so hard that if the girl had not
been an expert of fellatio she might have choked. She seemed to
take each downward thrust in her stride. As Nena busied herself on
his hard, slicked cock, Luke jammed two rigid fingers into the
opening of Alexandra's sex, then pushed his thumb against the
puckered crater of her anus, until it slid inside the tight hole.
The girl squirmed on him, her lower torso pushed down onto the
rigid digits, so as to derive maximum pleasure, as Luke fucked her
with his hand.

With Linda,
Luke had been a considerate if shy lover, reluctant to experiment
beyond the usual accepted practices. That previous night, as he had
squatted over her, his jism spurting over her face, she had seen as
a kind of breakthrough, Luke overcoming his self-consciousness,
showing a greater willingness to explore his sexual needs and
fantasies. She could not believe that she was watching the same
man. It frightened her.

It frightened
Linda even more when she saw what he did next: he withdrew from the
mouth below him and pushed his tool against the anus of the
ebony-haired girl, until he had squeezed the whole length inside
her. He rode her first in a steady slow rhythm gradually gathering
pace. Soon he was fucking the girl as if his life depended on it,
ruthlessly, remorselessly, each stroke of his cock punctuated by
Alexandra's sharp rhythmic squealing.

Linda stared
at Luke as he pistoned in and out of the seemingly inexhaustible
girl. His hips banged against her rubicund and pained buttocks,
slapping against them, overlaying whatever pain or pleasure he was
bringing by making the skin of her bottom smart again as his cock
butted harder inside her.

To her dismay
Linda realised she was wet watching the spectacle. There was a deep
longing inside her and the truth came as a terrible revelation. She
wished to be that girl. She wished that it had been she that Luke
had lashed with his belt, as she wished that it was Luke who was
now fucking her inside her most intimate place.

She wanted to
leave but her eyes remained glued to the scene. Luke began moaning,
oblivious to anything but the motion of his cock inside the tender
orifice of the girl. He was gradually building to crescendo, as
Alexandra's keening voice increased in pitch and volume.

As they were
both coming, he pulled out of her and angled his twitching tool
towards the brunette's gaping mouth. Linda watched the projection
of his sperm, the first jet hitting the bridge of the nose, the
second landing on her outstretched tongue.

A great wail
of pleasure came first from Luke, then from the plumper girl as her
buttocks jerked in a kind of delayed climax, until Linda saw that
her fingers had crept down to her clitoris and she had brought
herself to orgasm.

Linda looked
on as Luke's semen spread over Nena's face, as he pumped his sated
tool into her mouth once again. He looked just like those satyric
figures Linda had so diligently been studying. Linda stared at the
wetness of the curvaceous girl, her skin glistening in the half
light, a mixture of semen and sweat and the girl's own love juices.
She looked until she could bear it no more.

She fled down
to the beach, and tried to understand everything that she had
witnessed; what did it imply about Luke's own sexuality? Why had he
hidden it from her? What was wrong with her that he hadn't even
tried to explain what sexually aroused him? Things that she had
thought repulsive, things that she wouldn't have dreamed of doing
in a million years, she had seen and they had excited her.

But what type
of man was Luke to go to bed with whores? How inadequate he must be
to take pleasure from sure barbaric brutality!

It was the end
of their relationship of course. As her sexual excitement subsided,
she thought with a colder logic. She began to register all his
faults, sexual and other, calibrating them with other discontented
memories. She knew it was over; Luke's fearful sexuality seemed too
destructive for a potentially durable domestic love. However
excited she had been; however it had made her question her own
sexual impulses and desires, she felt that she could not live with
a man like that.

Memories of
Luke, of her first encounter with Sebastian, fantasies about
Alfonso! What was wrong with her? Why was her mind full of sex? It
wasn't as if she was some sexually obsessed virgin or something. It
wasn't as if she didn't have a good sex life. She had a damn good
sex life, a sex life that most women could only dream about.

Maybe Freud
had a point about how the artist manipulates his or her sexual
repression to create, the frustrated libido as the muse. Alfonso
had once joked, 'I thought muses were beautiful blond girls in
diaphanous frocks,' but perhaps there was some truth in the
psychology after all.

It was
nonsense anyway. She knew in a few hours as she probably lay alone
on some hotel bed after dining with Alfonso and Maria, that she
would long for Sebastian, her man, and that nothing else would
happen, indeed maybe she didn't really want anything else to
happen.

In fact, the
only thing that she was really sure about, the only thing that she
really did want to happen was to produce a portfolio of work good
enough for an exhibition, and good enough for her to finally make
her name as an artist. She also knew that the sketches and
lithographs that she had gathered to show anybody in Barcelona who
might be interested, weren't quite good enough. She'd always said
it was because she never had enough time to think or to execute her
thoughts on canvas, but a nagging doubt told her that that might
just be a fatuous excuse; a little inner devil told her that it
could be that she just didn't have sufficient talent.