The Vermeer

"This is crazy Flo."

"Is it? You just said that I'm sexy. And I can see that you are... firm... in that belief."

"Hoooo..." I needed air. I couldn't believe how horny I was for that little woman. She was driving me nuts. I just wanted to lick her, eat her and fuck her. I wanted to take a sip of wine to calm myself down but my hands were trembling.

"Sam, I'm sorry, I'm naked in a hotel room with a very good looking man." A painted fingernail flicked one nipple then the other.

I didn't know what to say. Her fat nipples were extended. Her areola crinkled up into ridges. My chest was beating.

"I've been thinking about undressing for him for days now. I'm caught up in some sort of crazy adventure with a handsome man and all I can think about when I go to bed is undressing for some American guy who goes by the name, Sam. I know it's crazy."

"What?!"

She was diddling herself in earnest now. Her fingers were glistening. The fingers of her left hand were alternating from one nipple to the other and then squeezing her perky little tits.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

"And here I am. My erotic dreams are unfolding in front of me, right down to the chest hairs and the big beautiful cock."

"What?"

My cock was straining. My ability for rational thought was quickly disappearing. I was gripping my cock with my right hand. Pre-cum was oozing onto my index finger.

"I can't believe what is happening, Flo..." Was I being set up? What the hell was happening? I was torn between panicking and jumping her sexy little bones.

"I'm not married. I don't have a current beau. I've only had a sad litany of pathetic wankers, wallys and complete prats as dates for the last few months...Sam, I've not had sex in almost a year! I'm thirty one, not ninety one." She held her palms out to me and with her eyes wide open, continued, "And then you come along and tell me that I have to get naked in front of you!"

"Huh?"

She was wet. Her finger glistened in a shaft of light from the window.

The reality was I'd not had sex in probably a year, too. And that certainly wasn't with my bitch-wife.

"Isn't it obvious? Do I have to beg? I want to make love to you; I want to have sex with you. Anonymous sex. I'm not going to ask you your name or anything personal about you... except for one thing."

A question!

"What's that?"

"Do you have any STDs or anything else like that, that I should be worried about?"

"No. Do you?"

"No, but don't get me pregnant."

That was it. I couldn't take any more. I dropped to my knees between her thighs.

"Ohh..." she leaned back in the arm chair and drew her knees up. Her coral coloured pussy lips opened up revealing a glistening rose pink interior. I inhaled as my opened mouth descended onto her loveliness. Sweet, musky, earthy, sweaty pheromones flooded my senses. My eyes rolled from the sudden sensory overload. Flo smelled every bit as lovely as she looked. I tasted her with my tongue and lips. She tasted divine.

My hands lightly pushed on the back of her thighs and my tongue and lips danced on her exquisite pussy. I probed, licked, nibbled, kissed, sucked, flicked, tasted, swallowed and licked some more. It took me a few moments to understand that it wasn't her pleasure that I was seeking but my own greedy hedonistic self's.

I had to slow down.

I gently sucked on her clit while flicking it with the end of my tongue. I looked up to see her head, neck and torso was all red, eyes closed head back while her red tipped fingers were mercilessly kneading her tits and pulling at her fat nipples.

I poked my tongue as deep as I could into her vaginal opening. I heard air rush from her lungs. Again I sucked her clit and flicked it with my tongue. It was met with some stiff resistance. I could feel trembling on the underside of her thighs.

I sucked her clit in between my lips.

She came. Hard. I could feel her muscle contractions on my chin. Although her eyes were closed, I could still see the contortion in her face as her nostrils flared and grimaced lips sought air. Spit and sweaty moisture covered her mouth and face just as I became aware that my cheeks and chin was similarly bathed in her sweat and pussy juices.

She smelled and tasted incredible, pure female sex. I continued licking her entire pussy and sucking on her clit.

Over and over her body flexed while she continued to seek oxygen. Suddenly her knees and legs dropped forcing my mouth off her. Her whole body was a shiny pink color.

Her eyes opened up, but she wasn't smiling. She took two deep breaths and then almost growled, "Get on the bed, Sam."

I was up and on the bed with my cock pointing straight up. Almost before my head hit the bed, her mouth and fingers were on my cock. Reddish brown hair spilt across my hips and belly as her head bobbed and her fingers stroked my cock. No way I could let that go on.

I lifted her head off my cock. I could see a wild look in her brown eyes and her parted lips through the reddish brown hair that was plastered to her face with perspiration.

"On your back, Flo, I'm gonna fuck you."

"Just don't cum inside me," she said, as she rolled off onto her back and then parted her legs while brushing hair off her face.

I rolled on top of her in a flash. With my arms stiff on either side of her neck I looked down to see her grinning wildly. Her fingers found my cock and she pulled me towards herself. I adjusted my hips accordingly. I could see my stiff cock wet with her saliva, held by her red fingernails.

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened at the same instant that I felt a warm tightness on the tip of my cock. Her eyes closed and a breath of air escaped from her pursed lips as I rolled my hips sending my cock all the way into the warm silky depths of her wet pussy.

"Ghuughnn," she grunted, "you're so big..." Her face was red. Eyes still closed.

Stiff armed I stayed motionless staring down into her face with my cock buried to the hilt inside her. I could feel her heartbeat along the length of my shaft. With absolute delight I watched as a smile started to spread across her face and then her eyes opened up.

What a beautiful woman.

Both of her hands with slim red tipped fingernails slipped into my chest hairs on my pecs. I could see the satisfaction and the pure lust wash across her face.

She rolled her hips back and then forth just slightly.

I pulled out slightly and then pushed back.

She rolled her hips, I pulled out, she rolled back on as I pushed back in. With each synchronized motion our pace quickened. With each motion, the length of my stroke increased.

I was fucking the gorgeous little creature named Florence Ashworth and she was lovin' it! Every thrust of mine was met with a counter from Flo. She was fucking me every bit as hard as I was fucking her.

It suddenly became very warm in the little room. We were both breathing very hard. Her teeth were clenched tight, her lips were pulled back almost in a snarl. Veins popped out on her neck. Her entire upper body was a dark pink colour. Her brown eyes stared into mine.

She was scratching at my chest. My arms were starting to give out as I pumped away.

I slipped down onto my elbows. The heat emanating from her body greeted me. Her sweaty face buried onto the crook of my neck and shoulder on the right side. Flo's arms wrapped around me as she grabbed the cheeks of my ass and helped slam me inside her on each stroke.

The bed frame was banging against the wall. I didn't care. Neither did she.

Her fingernails dug into my ass cheeks as she kept smashing herself with my cock. I tried to angle my cock from side to side and up and down on each stroke, but I was only partially successful. Her wet cunt eagerly slammed into my pubes.

Our sweaty bodies slapped against each other as we searched for air in the hot little hotel room.

She came. Her whole body was shuddering below me; I could feel her vagina clenching my cock...

I pulled out just in time and watched as my first spurt of cum hit her neck on the left side and the second, just below her right tit. I collapsed on top of her still trembling, glistening and sweaty, bright pink body and unloaded the balance of my cum load onto her pubic hair and lower abdomen. My hips were flexing uncontrollably against her quivering body.

The sound of the bed frame hitting the wall had stopped, replaced only with the sound of our heavy breathing. I could feel her heart beating against my sticky and sweaty chest. When both she and I had stopped twitching, I rolled off of her and lay next to her staring at the ceiling, still gasping for air.

She rubbed whatever cum was on her all over herself and then licked her fingers and the palms of her hands.

I couldn't believe it.

She rolled onto her side, gave me a long passionate kiss and with her left hand found little wet spots of cum on my chest and proceeded to lick them all off.

Holy fuck!

In amazement I watched as she worked her way down my chest to my belly, eating and licking all the way down until she got to my dick, which slipped into her mouth. Her lips were curled in a smile as she did it. After cleaning me off, she returned to my belly and pubic hair.

Un-fucking-believable.

"Thank you, Sam."

"Thank me? Thank you, Florence Ashworth. That was, without a doubt, the hottest sex I've ever had in my life."

She was grinning wildly. She moved up the bed and gave me another kiss and then rolled back off me. We laid next to each other, letting our heart rates and breathing return to normal.

After a few moments she said, "I met with Jill."

"Just a second, Flo." I stood up off the bed and with my cock flopping around I gathered her clothes up off the floor and carefully examined them, especially the seams and especially her shoes. I noted they were size 5. Everything seemed clean. I put all of her clothes and her shoes into the little mini-bar fridge and closed the door.

She watched me in obvious amusement from atop the bed.

"Did I dress a little too hot for you?"

"Sorry, there may be a listening device built inside your shoe."

"I really don't think there is; I've had those shoes for years."

I wasn't going to argue with her.

"Okay, let's talk. What's happening?" I asked as I lay back on the bed next to her. We were both on our sides facing each other. She ran her fingers through my chest hair.

"I met with Jill Turner..."

"Please start at the beginning. Starting with you driving away from me at the Thames." I gently flicked her fat nipple.

"Okay. I did nothing after we had our talk, except think about everything you said. It was pretty late at night when you texted me the name of the painting and the amount. I then spent the next few hours on the internet reading all about the painting, the 1990 theft in Boston, about Vermeer's in general, about art theft in general and about recovery of stolen art."

"And?"

"And then I went to bed and thought about undressing in front of you and..."

"Okay I got that part."

"Sam, this is so much fun; it's so cool!" I could see the excitement in her sparkling brown eyes.

"Flo, what happened?"

"I called Scotland Yard and got in touch with Jill Turner of the Art and Antiques Squad, the next morning. She's so nice, I told her who I was, what I wanted to do and explained what the painting was that we were trying to recover."

"Okay."

"She was great."

'Jill is great,' I'd just keep that in the memory bin. "Tell me what transpired."

"She wondered who currently held the painting and I explained that I'm not in a position to divulge such information, that I can only act as a middle-man."

My hand found its way down to her cum hardened pussy hairs.

"Okay?"

"I gave her all my personal details and got hers in exchange."

I tugged at her pussy lips.

"I told her that I can't do anything until I receive a clearance of immunity from prosecution. She understood right away and said that she would try to get that."

"Good."

"She called me two days later and asked me to come to her office to pick up the letter. It's signed by the Director of the Metropolitan Police and there is a notice attached from a Richard Armitage, a Queen's Council, directing them to offer me immunity from prosecution. The immunity is good for one year."

"Excellent. What about their sting operation."

"Oh, Sam, you were so right about that."

"What can you tell me?"

"Basically, they took the position that I would not be handed the immunity letter if I refused to fully cooperate with Scotland Yard."

I think I turned a little white. "Then what happened?"

"I stood up, left the letter in her hands, said sorry, no deal, no Vermeer and walked out of her office with my head held high."

"Then what happened?" Obviously she got the immunity letter.

"As I was waiting for the lift, Jill tapped my arm and said, 'Please, let's talk.'"

"Okay." It sounded credible so far. Was it?

"Back in her office I explained to her that I was not going to co-operate with any police efforts, that I was strictly and exclusively going to concentrate on acting as an intermediary with the view to have the Vermeer restored to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum and to have the reward monies paid for the painting's return."

"Mmnn?"

"Reluctantly, she agreed and handed me the immunity letter, telling me that she would not tolerate me standing in the way of her doing her job."

"I guess that was to be expected." I kissed her on the lips.

"I then pulled out a letter of my own, addressed to Detective Inspector Jill Turner at New Scotland Yard, I have a copy of it for you in my bag." She stared at me with a funny look in her face. "In the letter I asked Jill to do the following: One, to contact the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum on my behalf through whichever intermediaries she deemed suitable and proper, which I take it will be the FBI and the Massachusetts office of the US District Attorney and relate to them that I am in touch with certain parties who wish to provide information leading to the successful return of the stolen Vermeer painting. Two, to request that a reward sum of five million dollars US funds be prepared for immediate wire transfer, the details of which I indicated will be given to her at a later date. Three, that she obtain from the Museum a written contract for me authorizing me to act on their behalf to attempt to recover the Vermeer for a total fee of a hundred thousand pounds Sterling, of which I requested that ten thousand be forwarded to me immediately 'in good faith'. My Barclay's account number and details were included. Four, that she arrange with the Museum's suitable experts to, at the proper time, verify the authenticity of the said Vermeer, and if deemed to be genuine, to accept the painting on the Museum's behalf. And finally, number five, that Scotland Yard pledge in writing that they will not attempt or permit anyone to attempt blockading or intercepting the payment of the reward monies."

"Very good," I was impressed. I kissed her again.

"She didn't agree with that last part and crossed it out and said take it or leave it."

I knew it sounded too good to be true.

"I had to accept." Flo said. "Otherwise she was fine with everything."

"Great, what else did you talk about?"

"I pulled out the coins."

"How did that go?"

"I explained that I would bring her photographic evidence that the Vermeer is safe and is in good condition. I gave her my copy of The Sun. I told her one of the photos will include that newspaper in the frame and explained to her about the coins."

"Okay."

"I had a coloured photocopy of the Vermeer painting in my file; she looked at it and said, believe it or not, 'put the Sun in the bottom left corner.'"

"Hah!"

"She said she was impressed and that clearly I'd thought all of this through."

"So she didn't get the impression that you were a fraudster?"

"No, not at all. Quite the opposite, the vibe I got from her was that she thought I was genuine."

"That's great." It sounded too good to be true.

"I asked her to arrange the coins in random order. She did and she made a note of it, left to right, numbered one through five, and made a photocopy for me."

"Great, what's the order?"

"I can't remember."

"What?"

"It's written down in my file, in my bag..." she looked genuinely annoyed.

"I told her I would let her see, as you called them, the proof of life photos, but that I wouldn't hand them over to her until my ten thousand 'in good faith' funds are transferred to my account."

"What did she say?"

"She said she'll see what she can do, but she couldn't promise anything on behalf of anyone else. I said I understood that."

So did I.

"I know I left this up to your discretion," I said, "but don't you think a hundred thousand pound middle man fee, might be a bit excessive?"

She seemed a little taken back. "Perhaps, I'm open to negotiation. I had to ask."

I wondered if I gave her too much leeway.

"She said that until the proof of life photos comes through, nothing much was going to happen. She asked if I could email them to her when they're ready."

"Did you agree?"

"Agree to what?"

"Email the photos."

"Yes."

"No. We can't do that."

"Why not?"

"There's meta data attached to image files, emails and stuff. We'd be leaving a trail. You'll get paper copies."

"That'll have DNA and fingerprints on it."

"Yours, only."

"Okay Sam, as you wish."

"That's correct, Flo, as I wish."

I stood up. "I'm running you a bubble bath."

"Okay, but why?"

"I've got to wash you." I said as I stepped into the bathroom. "Did you receive a visit from the police this morning?"

"No," she answered, "why do you ask?"

"Nothing."

The bubbles frothed up as she sat down in the warm water. The tub was an old fashioned claw foot style, in white, with feet that were fashioned in black and gold. She sat sipping her white wine as I fondled and cleaned her thin wispy pussy hairs in the warm water."

"Hmmm...I think I could get used to all of this international intrigue. What comes next, caviar and Champagne?"

I took her wine glass from her and slipped my finger inside her wet pussy.

"Oh I see," she exclaimed, "it's me. I come next!"

"Ahh..ha..ha.." What a doll. I did rub her clit for the next few minutes as she sat holding the sides of the tub. I watched her eyes close and her expression went blank. Although the bubbles had subsided a bit, there were still enough that eventually they shuddered for a few moments. And then her eyes opened up and her entire face lit up in a smile.

"Go on dry yourself off and let's get dressed. You know where your clothes are."

Dressed and with latex gloves on, I started to clean every surface of the room that I had touched; the wine glasses were washed and the empty wine bottle packed into my case.

Flo was dressed only in her panties and bra as she attempted to dry her hair with the towel and straighten it with her fingers. Her clothes and shoes were still in the minibar. She called to me from the washroom.

"If the painting was stolen in Boston, why isn't your middle man in the US? Does that mean the painting is somewhere in the UK?" She asked as she stepped out of the bathroom with her hair wet, but somewhat splayed out.

My heart skipped a beat. "Flo, don't you ever fucking do that again." I could feel the rage boiling up.

"Do what?"

"Ask me a question. Did Scotland Yard put you up to it?"

"No!"

"Did they instruct you to fuck me with the thought that I'll fall in love and start spilling everything?"

"No!" She looked scared.

"Did they expect to pull my DNA out of your cunt hairs?"

"No!"

"Flo, you're scaring the shit out of me." I was shaking.

"No, Sam, I swear..." I could see the fear in her eyes.