Anuja lifted the glass to her lips, sipped the drink, took an ice-cube in her
mouth and then, setting the glass on the counter, bent forward and slipped her
lips around the man's thick penis.

"Oh fuck yes!" the man gasped, his belly sucking sharply inwards, his head
snapping up, his mouth jerking open. "Oh yes! C'mon ... suck it, you whoring
bitch! Take it!"

Anuja loved it when they talked dirty to her. It turned her and made her feel
like the whore she was, not the *memsahib* she was forced to be. The man's
uncircumcised cock was satisfyingly large, at least nine inches long and
correspondingly thick, with a bulging cock-head and heavy, low balls. She cupped
his balls now, squeezing tenderly as she took his cock deeper in her mouth,
deftly swirling her tongue and the slowly melting ice-cube around his cock-head.
The sensation was exquisite, and overpowering. The man groaned desperately as the
heat surged in his loins, clamouring for release. Anuja moaned deep in her throat
and sucked harder.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck uh yeh oh yes baby yes! Suck it! Suck it good, bitch! Suck
it! Suck my cock, you frigging whore! Suck it harder! Ahhhhhhh yes ... that's it
... ohhh fuck that's good ... yeh ... c'mon ... do it again ... here's some more
ice!"

The man's name was Tony and he was a barman at the hotel. Anuja noticed him one
afternoon as she swam lazily around the pool, attending the sunken bar in the
pool. She noticed his eyes following her and played up to him, floating on her
back so that he had an unobstructed view of her breasts swelling through the
microscopic strips of the bikini bra, and of her crotch, mostly exposed under the
tight, sharply cut bikini panties that barely covered her mons. She waited till
he was alone at the bar, without any guests on the submerged barstools and his
assistant taking a break. Then she drifted over to the bar and pulled herself up
onto a stool.

"Yes, ma'am, what can I do for you?" he smiled.

Quite a lot, I hope, she thought to herself. Fuck me. For starters. He really was
very dishy. He had a clean-shaven, handsome face, dark and tanned and his body,
under the casual tunic of the beach resort, looked solid and muscular. His
shoulders were brought, his chest deep and wide, his belly hard and flat. His
torso was V-shaped and his waist was high and narrow. He wore a patterned
short-sleeved shirt and long shorts. She noticed how sturdy his legs were. There
was a plastic name-tag on his breast pocket and she read his name with a quick
flick of her eyes. She smiled prettily at him.

"Something to drink. Long, tall, lots of ice."

"A cocktail?"

"No, something soft."

"All right, give me a minute. I've got just the thing for you."

I bet you do, she thought. "I hope it's without alcohol."

"In its original form, no. But I've got a substitute. Tell you what, I'll mix you
both and you decide."

"Fine."

She watched as he busied himself with bottles and glasses and ice and a shaker
and a mixer. He poured out two gorgeous looking drinks into tall glasses with
plenty of crushed ice and superbly garnished with a cherry each and a twist of
orange rind. The drinks were a delicate green, fresh and summery.

"Which is which?" she asked.

"You tell me," he said, his eyes twinkling, his bright, even teeth flashing.
"Let's see if you can guess right."

She sipped one drink. It was delicious, just the right blend of sweetness and a
tangy sour-lemon flavour, with a delicate aroma and a gentle fruity aftertaste.

"Now the other." He pushed the second glass across the table.

She sipped it and frowned. She couldn't tell which had alcohol. Perhaps both.
Perhaps neither. She sipped each again. Tony laughed softly.

"This one's better," she said, sipping from one of the drinks through a bent
straw, swirling the umbrella swizzle stick. "The other one has alcohol."

Tony laughed. "Sorry, ma'am. It's the other way around. That one has the alcohol,
the other's got fruit juice."

Anuja lifted her eyes in surprise. She had no palate for alcohol.

"This is excellent," she said. "I've never tasted such a wonderful drink."

"Thank you, ma'am," he murmured.

"You're a genius, Tony!"

"I like this work. Don't often get it."

She looked at him with the straw in her pursed lips, her head bent, her eyes
raised, flashing merrily.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's not a permanent job. Seasonal. I get called during summer. The other times
they have a professional barman."

"You're pretty professional."

"The hotel doesn't think so."

"Idiots."

"My thoughts precisely."

"So what do you when you're not doing this?"

She plucked a cherry from the drink and held it, impaled on its little stem,
between her lips, ran her tongue around its smooth, silky contours. It was an
unmistakably wanton, lascivious gesture and he didn't miss it, though his
expression didn't change. She waited for his answer, watching him watch her, and
whipped the cherry rapidly with her pointed tongue, then slowly sucked it into
her mouth and rolled it around over and under her tongue. His eyes were rivetted
on her. She was gorgeous, perfect, irresistible. Her breasts were full and
generous and he longed to hold them, cup them, fondle them. Her mouth! What he
would give to fuck that lovely, full-lipped mouth, to bury his nine-inch cock in
its wet warmth! And her body, with those flared hips and her flat belly ... and
what a face she had, sensual, earthy, the kind that would grow radiant with
passion and pleasure when a man fucked her. Her skin was lovely, too, smooth and
golden, flecked with sexy little marks; he could even see one between her
breasts.

"Hey, Tony!" she snapped her fingers and grinned. "What're you dreaming of?"

You, babe, he wanted to say. It's you. Since the day you walked in with that
husband we all know won't fuck a dame except with his eyes and his frigging
cameras. It's you I've dreamed of, morning, noon and night and when the other
guys tell me what they've done with you, fuck, I could scream! Why haven't you
called for me yet? I'm better than the lot of them! I have to be, damn it! I'm
the professional gigolo on these beaches! Not them! Me!

"Sorry, ma'am," he said. "Sort of got lost."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I'm sorry?"

"I asked what you do when you're not mixing heavenly drinks."

"Oh, um, well, nothing fixed really. Odd jobs, mostly. Sometimes someone wants a
roof re-tiled, or a drain fixed, or something. Things like that."

"A handyman, then."

"If you like." And very handy with hot broads like you, if only you'd ask.
"Though the best is this or working with tourists on the beaches."

"What work is that?"

"I show them around, take them to the various spots." Where I fuck them, because
they're all randy women.

"Sounds like a relaxed life."

"It has its advantages." The fucking's great and the money's good, too.

She sipped her drink, drained it.

"Another?"

"Mm. Yes, all right. Can you spike this one?"

"Certainly."

He added a soupcon of liquor to the second drink and returned it to her. The
glass rim was frosted with sugar. She dragged her tongue slowly around it,
repeated the action with the cherry.

"Tony, tell me another thing."

"Ma'am?"

"Are you good to fuck?"

"Excuse me?" He looked at her startled. Her tone had been utterly casual and
conversational, with no reflection of the shocking content of her words.

She looked him straight in the eye, her eyes glinting with anticipation, hunching
her shoulders slightly so that her breasts squeezed together and bulged in her
bikini top.

"Are you good to fuck?" she repeated. "You know. Do you have a nice big cock, do
you like fucking women, that sort of thing?"

He stared at her dumbfounded. "Ma'am ... I ... you ... I mean ..."

"Oh come off it, Tony," she said. "Look, everyone in this hotel knows what's
going on. I've been fucking the entire male staff, pretty nearly, and it can't be
that much of a secret any longer. Word must have got around by now. Don't tell me
it hasn't."

He grinned slowly. "Yeah," he said. "It has. And yeah, I'm good to fuck. That's
what they tell me. Yeah, I've got a big cock. And of course I like fucking women.
Who doesn't?"

"One guess."

He looked at her and wrinkled his face in disapproval. "Yes, I know. It's always
like this. He's weird. He gets these great broads and doesn't do anything with
them."

"That's not fully accurate."

"Yes, well, all right. He doesn't fuck them. That's what I meant. They're broads
to die for and all he does is watch and go click-click with that fucking camera."

"Camera. Plural. He has several."

"Yeah."

"Have you fucked any of his whores before?"

"Once or twice."

"Any good?"

He waggled his palm, fingers open. "One was okay. Looked great, but too cold in
bed for my liking. The others were good. Very good. Hot stuff. He's never stayed
with one for as long as he has with you, though."

"I married him. The others didn't. That's the difference."

"You could leave him."

"No. I like it like this."

"Come on."

"No really. Think about it. This is fine. I like good fucking, and I get it. He
likes watching good fucking, and he gets that, too. Everyone's happy."

"A marriage made in heaven," Tony said with heavy sarcasm.

Anuja laughed cheerfully. "Well, not quite that high. But it'll do. For me, at
any rate. So. Just how good are you with a woman?"

"One way to find out."

"True."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"I'll come to your room."

"No. I'm bored with that. No. Here."

"The pool closes at night."

"We'll open it."

"The security guys will be prowling around."

"I'll have them stay off. I'm fucking the head honcho earlier. He'll do what I
want."

Tony grinned. "You're incredible, ma'am."

"Stop calling me that."

"What shall I call you then?"

"Whore. Bitch. Slut. Something sexy like that. And, if you need to use it, my
name's ..."

"I know your name."

"Good."

"What time do we meet?"

"After midnight. When the moon's up."

"The moon won't be the only thing up."

"I should hope not."

"Anything special you like?"

"What?" Anuja looked at him puzzled.

"Is there any special kind of fucking you like?"

She stared at him for a minute and then burst out laughing. "Tony, why didn't you
say so?"

"What?"

"You're a gigolo! That's it! All that talk of tourists and spots is all rubbish.
You just fuck them! You are a gigolo, aren't you?"

Tony grinned cheerfully. "Yeah. I am. Makes decent money."

"I'm sure it must do," she laughed cheerfully. "Well, my darling gigolo, you can
do just about what you like with me. I have no special likes or dislikes. So long
as you fuck me, that's fine."

"You like butt-fucks, they say."

"They say rightly. I love butt-fucks."

"Good. I like shoving my rod into a nice, hot, tight ass."

"Do it tonight then."

"Be hot for me."

She paused as she turned on the barstool. "Tony, my friend. I'm always hot.
Always."

"Good. So am I."

She laughed and sank back into the water. "Looks like there's going to an atomic
explosion tonight, then!"

He laughed and lifted his hand, waving farewell. She swam away and he watched her
climb out of the pool and move to her deck chair, her hips swaying, her breasts
bouncing cheerfully. Several employees looked at her and grinned. She ignored
them, grabbed her towel and began to dry her long hair. She bent over, and the
hotel staff who were behind her had an unobstructed view of her buttocks and
cunt-lips, while the ones to the side and in front could see her full breasts
swinging pendulous, almost falling out of the tiny bikini bra cups. Anuja was the
hottest thing the hotel had seen, and a fair number of its employees were seeing
her at extremely close quarters indeed.

Tony watched her walk away to the hotel building and her suite and grinned to
himself. She would be a terrific fuck. The gigolo business was slack at the
moment, and he was in the mood for a good, hard fuck with a luscious broad like
her. He glanced at his watch, an expensive gift from a particularly horny
Gujarati housewife he had fucked relentlessly for several nights while her
husband sat through endless boring seminars at a motor-parts salesmen's
convention in the hotel. That woman had also been wonderful, and well pleased
with his services. Not too long, he reflected.

"Got a date, chum?"

"What?" Tony looked around.

His co-worker at the bar had hopped in and seen him watching Anuja. The man was a
handsome youth and, Tony had heard, a recent entrant in the gigolo trade, his
competitor. He grinned at Tony and clapped him on the back.

"She's hot, man. Real hot."

"You've fucked her?"

"Yes. Two nights ago."

Tony felt a twinge of jealousy. Then it passed. These things happened. An
occupational hazard, at best.

"Good?"

"Good? Fuck, she's incredible, boss! You wouldn't want to give up your place
would you?"

Tony laughed. "You crazy?"

"For that kind of fucking, yeah."

"That good, huh?"

"Unbelievable, boss. The best yet."

"We'll see."

He turned and began rinsing glasses in the sink, humming to himself. The other
man, Lewis checked the beer kegs.

"Lew?"

"Yeah."

"What's she really like?"

Lewis grinned and looked up. "Tony, I swear it, you can't imagine. She's
everything guys like us dream of. Soft, warm, wet, ready for anything. She sucks
cock like a demon and her cunt is like fire. You fucking think you're going to
burn out. And then, when she takes it in the ass, man -- if there's a heaven,
it's got to have that dame in it!"