A Perfect Crime

"OK my young friend," my benefactor announced after we had finished eating and were relaxing in the empty pub restaurant, "We need to talk about your future."

"What future? I'm almost 50, a convicted murderer, no skills I can use and I've been locked away for the last 20 years. So just what fucking future do I have?" I grumbled in reply.

"Exactly... I know you can go work for the McVie's in London as some sort of hit-man stroke gangster or whatever, but you're better than that. Come work with me instead. I need a P.A. anyway the way my social life is."

"And just how do you expect me to do that?" I replied, "You travel all over the world and I can't leave the country until my parole is up in 5 years time. Anyway, Billy's invitation to work for his brothers was actually more of a command- and you know what happens to anyone who disobeys a command from him..."

"All taken care of my young friend... Here... By the way, you were convicted of manslaughter not murder just in case you've forgotten."

Archie had reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be an old, well-used EEC passport before tossing it on the table in front of me. I gave up my attempt at arguing about what the perception of any future employer would be to the difference between murder and manslaughter and picked up the small red booklet, opening it to find what looked like a picture of me, but with shorter hair and a goatee beard and moustache.

"What the fuck?... How the hell did you get this?" I demanded incredulously as I stared at what looked like my genuine passport.

"Well... Let's just say I like to keep my hand in," he laughed, "Have you noticed the name?"

I examined more closely the official looking document. "Oh very funny." I chuckled at my grinning friend.

"Well I thought so." he chortled in reply, rising and announcing he needed to go for a slash.

I stared at the passport. I knew it couldn't possibly be genuine. I hadn't had a passport since I was sent down and no-way would Archie have been allowed to obtain one for me legally. I had to admit though, if I hadn't known better, I would have been convinced it was me in the photo. Maybe it could work. Maybe I could use it to get away from the clutches of criminality that I seemed to be heading for. I knew damn well I couldn't leave the country legally because of my parole conditions, but just maybe...

"Well...?" I snapped out of my thoughts. Archie had returned and sat opposite me once more, then questioned me enthusiastically "What do you reckon John Riggs? Shall we travel the world and have some fun?"

I took a few moments, staring at the brilliantly forged passport I held in my hand and considering the possibilities of what my mate had just proposed. Eventually I made the decision that was to change my life.

"Fuck It... Let's go for it..."

Archie jumped up and hugged me, much to the amusement of the overtly gay bar-man who obviously thought we were part of his lot, "Wonderful. Absolutely fucking wonderful..."

A few weeks later we were ensconced in Archie's villa. A beautiful four-bedroomed place with a large pool situated up in the hills just behind the small, up-market resort of Puerto Andraitx. On the south-west corner of the Spanish holiday island of Majorca, it was just about 40 minutes by taxi from the airport and the island capital Palma..

* * *

Life was great. I had a deep tan, I had grown the goatee, had my hair cut and looked exactly like my passport photo. I worked out every day, swam several laps of the pool each morning, ran at least 15 miles a week in the hills surrounding the villa. All in all, I was as fit as a butcher's dog and looked great, even if I say so myself.

Archie wasn't always there. He had commitments to fulfil, commissions to paint, etcetera, etcetera. Consequently, as I was still nervous about using the passport he'd forged for me, I was left on my own for days at a time. He liked to keep his villa as removed from his public life as possible and only a very few of the locals knew he actually lived there. They pretty much kept that to themselves. Archie got on great with all of them, being able to speak fluent Spanish by then and endearing himself to them with his generosity and his natural ability to enter the hearts of anyone who ever met him.

When he was there, he would invariably be accompanied by some gorgeous female or other who he was painting at the time. Not just painting, but shagging too with the majority of them. The sounds of unbridled sex would resonate through the villa most nights when Archie was in residence- the mischievous prick liked to leave his windows open, I'm sure to deliberately torment me as I lay in my lonely bed, frustrated and left to my own devices.

More often than not, the lovely ladies would spend their days lying naked around the pool whenever they were not needed for modelling. Their delightfully sexy bodies would be in full view of this poor, sexually deprived, middle-aged bloke, leaving me in a constant state of semi-erect frustration. They would display no signs whatsoever of any embarrassment, no inclination of any desire to cover up whenever I was around. Instead they would usually cavort around as naked as the day they were born, tormenting and teasing me even more than with the sounds of their lovemaking with my best mate. I'm sure the tormenting twat got them to do it deliberately, knowing full fucking well what it would be doing to me. Despite those constant displays of beautiful womanhood being available to me on many occasions, I was still shocked beyond belief when one beautiful, sunny early morning, as I made my way to the pool for my early-morning swim, I was treated to the wonderful sight of a gorgeous, toned, and very-naked blond woman just emerging from the sparkling water as she pulled herself up onto the side of the pool.

By then I was accustomed to being confronted by such displays of beautiful nudity being displayed by ladies I had never even seen clothed, never-mind as naked as jaybirds. This time though, much to my astonishment, even I recognised her. Naked in front of me, displaying her beautiful brown-tipped breasts and a neatly-trimmed dark bush at the apex of her long, muscular legs, was the most famous female American pop-icon of the day. Constantly being pictured in the papers all over the world, she was probably the most famous person I had ever seen in my life. She grinned at my open-mouthed staring, nonchalantly picking up her towel and striding past me into the villa with a cheery "Good morning." I continued to gawk at her as she retreated from my lustful gaze. Her gorgeous, and very naked, buttocks swayed provocatively as she walked away from me, drawing my eyes inexorably to stare at them.

"Close your mouth my young friend, you're drooling." I heard from behind the newspaper I had not even noticed was there, Archie's voice displaying his obvious amusement at my apparent inability to acknowledge the lady's greeting owing to me being totally and absolutely fucking gob-smacked...

"Isn't... Isn't that...?" I stammered.

"Probably," he replied, grinning and turning the page of the paper as he tried unsuccessfully to hide his hilarity at my star-struck adoration of the famous woman's fabulous body.

"But...She's...She's fucking NAKED!" I managed to exclaim, my mouth finally starting to work properly again.

"Of course she's naked. We don't want any underwear lines on her body when she is modelling for me do we now?" came the reply from the luckiest man in the world.

I sat down. My head filled with a million questions as I stared in open admiration of my friend.

"Are you?...and her?...You know?..." I quizzed, wondering if there could be any way in hell I could manage to dispose of the smirking git in front of me and have my own evil way with the beautiful naked lady.

"Ah-hh young John my lustful friend. Let me point out, us true artists are like doctors. We do not see the woman. Only the lines and shadows of the form we are capturing for posterity. Nudity is not always about sex you know." he replied, again pulling the newspaper up to cover the shaking of his shoulders as he laughed silently at my astonishment. "She does have lovely tits though..."

He finally stopped laughing at me when I picked him up and threw him fully-clothed, together with his fucking newspaper, into the deep end of his pool...

* * *

The villa was looked after by a local couple. Native Majorcans, they lived with their family just down the road in the same old farmhouse the lady had grown up in and inherited from her parents. Both in their sixties, Maria kept the house clean and did a bit of cooking when she felt we needed a proper meal instead of the rubbish we normally ate. She spoke excellent English and generally acted as our mother-hen, even though she wasn't that much older than us- well not much older than Archie anyway. Her husband, Jose-Alberto looked after the garden and the pool, and also took care of the general maintenance of the villa. An avid Real Madrid fan, he didn't speak a word of English, but that didn't stop him babbling on to me in Spanish even though he knew I hardly understood a word he said. Lovely man though.

I had adopted the habit of taking my early-morning swim naked when I was alone in the villa. Not an exhibitionist thing, it was so much easier than having to dry my swim-shorts every time I swam. I quite frequently slept outside at night too, enjoying the chirping of the crickets and other animals as they went about their nocturnal activities. The quiet and stillness of the villa when I was alone there was just too much after the hustle and bustle I had become used to in prison. One particularly hot and cloudless day I had just emerged from the pool, naked as usual and brushing the excess water from my tanned body with my hands before using the towel to dry myself properly. I looked up and saw Maria grinning and watching me from the open patio doors. The cheeky older woman didn't even blush, just laughed at my discomfort as I scrambled to pick up my towel. Openly staring, her eyes filled with admiration of my muscular physique as she looked down between my legs at the thick but limply hanging penis resting on top of my heavy balls.

She sighed wistfully, a flirtatious grin on her lovely face as her eyes twinkled at me, "Aahhh Señor Juan... If I was not such a good catholic girl...Caramba!"

I finally managed to sort the towel out and wrapped it around my waist to cover myself from her admiring gaze. "Aahhh Señora Maria..." I mocked in return, "And if I didn't like your husband so much, you would be bent over that table with your skirt up around your waist and panties by your ankles by now." I laughed loudly as she finally had the decency to look embarrassed and blush.

She giggled, her beautiful dark-brown eyes opening wide as she put her hand to her mouth and gasped in false shock at my jokingly implied sexual threat, "I think maybe Poco Juan he needs some attention... No? Maybe you need to, how you say?...Get yourself fucked Señor Juan." the coquettishly sexy mother and grandmother teased me mercilessly as she grinned and nodded towards my now hidden little John, watching it twitch behind its protective covering in an involuntary but understandably natural reaction to what she had just suggested.

"Mm-mm, sounds good to me you cheeky girl, maybe he is not so little now Eh?" I leered, as I made to drop the towel and go after her, causing her to run giggling into the safety of the lounge.

I dried myself and dressed in shorts and T-shirt before sitting on the sun-lounger and picking up the day-old English newspaper that Maria had placed on the floor tiles near a cup of tea she had made for me. Staring off into the pristine blue sky and sipping the hot liquid, I thoughtfully considered what our naughty housekeeper had teased me about,

"Mm-mm, I think maybe you're right Maria, you naughty señora you. I really do need to get myself fucked..."

Chapter 11

It had been almost two months since my last sexual escapade with the gorgeous hookers Jenny and Annie. Not a particularly long time in comparison to being in jail, but then again I thought, I wasn't actually restricted any longer and was free to seek out as much pussy as I wanted to. Maria was off-limits- although she may well have been up for it judging by the lustful looks she had been giving me as she watched me cavorting about as naked as a jay-bird. I really did like her husband though, and as the old saying goes 'You don't shit in your own back yard'. For a single, heterosexual, good-looking bloke fast approaching 50 years of age, I was probably one of the most inexperienced men you could ever meet. I had known only two women- admittedly mother and daughter, a combination that I know is many men's ultimate erotic fantasy, before being locked up for 20 years and only occasionally having the ever-willing, but not particularly attractive, Christine available to empty my balls into.

The two lovely ladies at the hotel were delightful, but of course they were doing me for the money and not because I had chatted them up as it were. Consequently, I had no real idea of how to go about enticing willing and attractive women into my bed. Yes, I could have tagged along with Archie and fucked as many as I wanted to of the female hangers-on he invariably seemed to attract, but that wouldn't have been me really. I was an independent bloke, not someone who hung onto his famous mate's coat tails.

When I thought about it, I had actually never chatted a woman up. My ex-wife had approached me when we were kids, and her mother had seduced me once her daughter had fucked off and left me. Christine had been sorted for me by Billy McVie in prison, and the two hookers had been paid for by my mate Archie. So, as a relatively normal, horny, heterosexual bloke, my record with women of the opposite sex was, to say the least... Fucking pathetic!...

* * *

I mentioned all this to Archie one night. He was at the villa for a few days, in between trips to talk to people about paintings they wanted to commission. We were relaxing by the side of the pool about 7pm, after we had eaten the wonderful Spanish chicken and salad Maria had left for us.

"You need a job." he stated dramatically, "And I know just the place. C'mon, let's go..."

He jumped up with far more energy than a man of his age had the right to have, and dragged me out to the car before driving us into town to the restaurant we always ate at whenever we went out for a meal. He refused to talk about what we were doing on the way there, telling me to wait and see what he had in mind. Instead of going into the dining area, he strode next door to the attached pub and walked straight behind the bar without a word of complaint from the owner. Reaching up and getting the most expensive bottle of brandy from the top shelf, he poured us both a huge glass of the pale amber liquid and sat down at the end of the bar, pulling me onto the stool next to him.

After taking a huge gulp of the ultra-smooth nectar, he announced, "You need to work here."

I looked around. The place was jumping. Music blared out from the sound system. There were dozens of customers of all shapes and sizes, mainly women I noticed immediately. Many of them were dancing. And many of them were casting lecherous glances in our direction.

"Mm-mm. That sounds as though it might be fun," I laughed, catching the eye of a particularly good-looking middle-aged woman who was sitting against the back wall with a group of about four or five other females. She held my gaze for a long moment before winking at me and lasciviously licking her deep red lips in a blatant display of sexual longing. I could feel the first stirrings of awakening lust in my loins as I smiled back before reluctantly turning away and looking at Archie once more, "But what the fuck makes you think I could get a job here? I've never worked behind a bar in my life." I continued before sipping at my drink.

My highly amused companion slapped me on the back and shouted down the bar, "Giorgio, have you got a second?"

The owner smiled back at us before sauntering over and leaning on the bar between us, "Si Archie, what can I do for you my friend?" he asked, warmly shaking hands with my mate.

"Giorgio, this is my best friend in the whole world John, John this is Maria's brother Giorgio... Giorgio, John would like to work here so he can meet some of the beautiful ladies who frequent your wonderful establishment and fuck their brains out. Will that be OK with you?"

"Of course Archie. Not a problem. I hope he is a very fit man. Yes?" The pair of them burst into peals of laughter at that, Archie again slapping me on the back and Giorgio shaking my hand, "Welcome Señor John. Any friend of Archie is friend to me." With that he wandered off again to serve some more desperately thirsty customers.

"What?...How?..." I stammered, once again amazed by my friend's ability to surprise me.

"Idiot." he chortled, "Didn't you ever wonder why we never had to pay in the restaurant next door? Ever wonder why we always got the best table?... Why the chef always came out and had a chat, no matter how busy they were?... I own the whole she-bang my young friend. It was cheaper buying the fucking place than spending a small fortune every time I came here." Archie once again burst into laughter as I looked around again, paying more attention to our surroundings this time. The walls were full of photos of Archie and Giorgio with happy customers, some of who were world famous figures even I recognised. Interspersed amongst the photos were drawings that were obviously Archie Squires originals. They were sketches of various customers, some famous, some unknown, all brilliantly done- and all obviously worth a small fortune from what I had discovered about the prices of Archie's work.

"Jesus. Is there no end to this?" I laughed in open admiration and affection for my friend, "When do I start?..."

* * *

I have got to say, Archie's idea of me working at Bar Real as a way of meeting willing and available females was definitely up there in his top ten. The place was continually occupied all the summer season and beyond by some of the most beautiful women a man could ever wish to meet. Puerto Andraitx was a beautiful little cove where millionaires tended to moor their yachts when they wanted somewhere a little quieter than the marina in the capitol Palma- and Bar Real was the place where they all seemed to congregate when they came ashore for a drink.

There was usually a ratio of two to three women to every man in the bar most evenings. Consequently the chances for a single bloke looking to find female company for the night were much better than in the 'meat markets' back home in the UK- and the quality of the pussy was way, way higher too.

Over the next few weeks I managed to entice three really lovely ladies into my bed back at the villa. Two were single and in their early thirties, the other was married and just a little younger than me. Her German husband, she told me, had his own selection of young stuff on their yacht, leaving her free to seek out satisfaction elsewhere- or join in with him and his partner of the night if she was so inclined. I was amazed at that sort of open marriage arrangement, especially so after my experience in my own disastrous union. I just couldn't understand how a so-called loving couple could willingly share themselves with others when they professed to love one another. Still each to their own I suppose- and she really was a great fuck!...