Brittany's Travels Ch. 03

After Denis had paid the bill, he stood up and took Brittany's hand to kiss, and handed her a business card. "If you'd like to have a look at some samples of our work, come to this address at four o'clock. My assistant will be there. Madame Zhuckette. I trust you know the neighborhood."

"Of course," Brittany lied, looking at the address. She managed to avoid betraying any reaction to the orange and blue Mansfield Consulting logo on the card, just as legitimate and ordinary as any other business.

"Well then, Erika, we shall be chatting soon." He buttoned his coat and gestured for her to make her way past him in the narrow space between tables. "Ladies first."

"Thank you." Joseph and Angie had warned Brittany that she would sometimes get paranoid in this job, and she got her first taste of it as she made her way back out into the wintry weather. Did the other diners stare at her as she left the restaurant? If so, was it just because they were curious about Americans in their midst? Was Denis following her? Did he have someone else following her? There was no sign of that, but just to be safe, Brittany walked off in the opposite direction of her home. She came to a city bus depot and, reasoning that the city was fairly small and she could only get so lost, she hopped onto an idling bus.

When no one else got on before the bus pulled away, Brittany was satisfied that she wasn't being followed. Only then did she pull her phone out of her purse and search for the address. She was pleased to find it was near the train station, whose location Joseph had advised her to learn quickly in case she needed to escape on short notice. Surprisingly, that idea tickled her more than it scared her. Just imagine all the exotic places she'd read about in prison and could now hop on the train to in a matter of minutes! That pleasant thought made the prospect of what she might have to do with Denis almost bearable.

Almost. Brittany crossed her legs tightly and hoped she could pass off her shivers as a reaction to the weather.

She also was able to discern that the bus she'd happened to get on was heading away from her eventual destination. But she had over three hours to kill and she sensed it was best not to go home for the moment, so it was simply a matter of finding someplace else to spend the afternoon. The bus happened to pass by a shopping center, so Brittany joined the exodus of passengers there. She managed to find a display of English-language books at the big department store, and spent the afternoon drinking coffee and hearing far too many Christmas songs at an indoor café. It was, of course, a nice change to be hearing those songs on something other than a prison intercom.

As the appointed hour approached, Brittany was feeling no less unsure of herself as she went back outside to wait for the bus in the late-afternoon drizzle; but at least now she was feeling too nervous to be depressed. Whatever was about to happen, she reminded herself as she boarded the bus back into the city, it couldn't be as bad as what she'd been through back home.

Probably.

After enjoying her first view of the Avenue de la Liberté from the bus and a final discreet look at the directions on her phone, Brittany stepped out into the late afternoon drizzle. Taking care not to gaze at the majestic railway station across the street lest she look too much like a tourist, she struck a determined stride up the sidewalk and around the corner. The maze of corners and landmarks she had memorized brought her to a block of rowhouses, causing a pang of fear that she had taken a wrong turn. But the address on Denis' business card matched a three story brick-façade house right where she had anticipated her journey to end, and a closer look revealed plaque by the front door with the Mansfield Consulting logo.

A quick look at her watch confirming that she was only a few minutes behind schedule, Brittany rang the doorbell before there was any time to lose her nerve again. A middle-aged woman in a tailored suit answered the door. "Miss Tsoupas?" she asked, extending her hand.

"Yes," Brittany said, shaking her hand. "And you are...Madame Zhuckette?"

"Oh, no, my friend! You won't be meeting Madame Zhuckette for some time, and she certainly would never answer the door herself. No, madam, my name is Sarine and I shall be providing you with information on our wares this afternoon. Do come in."

She stood aside, and Brittany stepped out of the rain and into an opulent office, the contours of which only just betrayed that the house had once been a home. She had just enough time to admire the numerous elegant photographs lining the walls, mostly of various European locales some of which she recognized from the prison library, before Sarine stepped down the hallway and waved for her to follow. Without another word she ushered her into a large room at the end of the hallway, lined with display cases stuffed with jewelry, china and all sorts of collectibles. Seated at a round table with a businesslike smile was Denis. "Erika," he said. "Welcome."

"Thank you, Denis," she said, taking a seat opposite him. "You have some lovely things here, but I won't waste your time pretending that's what you want to sell me."

"Did I not tell you she would come straight to the point!" Denis said to Sarine, who was standing behind Brittany despite the two empty chairs that remained at the table. "My dear, I am accustomed to a much longer song and dance than this, but I do admire your bluntness. Americans are so very much easier to come to an agreement with for that very reason."

"Well, yes, but we can also be remarkably dull about how we get to those agreements." Brittany forced herself to uncross her legs as enticingly as she could muster. "It is so very much more fun conducting business over here."

Denis gave Sarine a look Brittany couldn't read at all, and stood up. "I could not agree more," he said. "You will understand that we do not display the merchandise you refer to in such a conspicuous place as this. Allow me to go upstairs and unlock the room where you can view it. Sarine shall keep you company until then, yes?"

"That'll be fine, Denis." Brittany smiled through her disgust -- by now she was beginning to believe she was quite good at that -- and looked up at Sarine. "Time for a little girl talk, perhaps."

"I should like that very much," Sarine said. "Do buzz us when you are ready, Denis."

"So I shall." And Denis exited through what Brittany had thought was a closet door; now she saw it led to a back stairway.

Brittany stood up and, figuring it was appropriate, now allowed herself to look more like a curious American tourist. "Such a lovely collection of...stuff!" she said. "This is really a very clever front, I've got to hand it to you guys." She strolled along the cases that lined the far wall, lingering by a display of baseball cards; she assumed that would throw anyone off the scent of a soccer fanatic.

"We do deal in these as well," Sarine explained, stepping up behind Brittany. "Collectors do want all sorts of things, after all. Of course the American would be drawn to baseball, wouldn't she?"

"Why not?" Brittany said, doing her best to feign interest in the cards.

She tried so hard to that end that she never saw Sarine slide the icepick down her sleeve, nor did she notice her grabbing at Brittany's right arm until she had it twisted behind her back. Holding the icepick before her eyes, Sarine gave Brittany a rough shove and tripped her, so that she turned her ankle and broke the heel of her shoe just before tumbling onto the sofa beside the display case. Brittany was still too bewildered to do anything but try to mask her panic as Sarine climbed on top of her and, still holding the weapon menacingly just above her, handcuffed her to the radiator behind the couch with her free hand.

"Now then, madame," Sarine cooed. "Just who sent you? INTERPOL? CIA?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Brittany blustered. "I'm a rare book dealer! I told Denis!"

"You told Denis just before you made a pass at him over lunch. Do you greet all your buyers and sellers that way?!"

Brittany gulped. She'd known there would be at least one rookie mistake, and here it was. "N-no!" she squeaked. "Of course not. But Denis...he has a reputation."

"According to the briefing you got?" Sarine drew the icepick up just under Brittany's nose.

"According to other dealers! Do you think I wouldn't have heard about him before when I live here and I have rich clients?"

"I think you would have indeed," Sarine said. "But if you had, you would have known perfectly well that Denis wants nothing to do with women."

"He's gay?!" Brittany's surprise was genuine; Joseph had never mentioned that!

Sarine roared with laughter. "Heavens, no! Married! Happily married to a beautiful woman who in fact prefers other women, and he gets off on watching them together."

"How do you know I wasn't just signaling my interest in her?" Brittany was delighted with her own ingenuity.

"Because there is a way to approach Denis on that subject, and you went about it entirely the wrong way." Sarine sat back a bit, but remained seated on Brittany's abdomen and kept the icepick at the ready. "Mind you, I am not going to tell you what you should have done if you wished an encounter with Biliana, but I will say you did not approach the matter -- or Denis -- appropriately. If you were who you say you are, Erika, you would have known.

Brittany felt her lips curling into a smile despite her terror. She tamped the smile down, but not before Sarine noticed.

"Oh, yes, of course!" Sarine snapped. "Say it, Erika. Go right ahead and say it!"

"If you insist..."

"I do!"

"That explains how you got this job." Brittany couldn't help grinning again as she said it.

"You know what, Erika? You are quite right. I am as straight as an arrow and I hated every moment of the encounter, but I satisfied Biliana enough for her to persuade her husband to promote me."

"Surely you want to keep that promotion," Brittany said. "You shouldn't keep him waiting up there with his merchandise!"

"And so I shan't," Sarine allowed, "Once I am persuaded you're nothing worse than a foolish dealer who flirted with the wrong man. Now then." With her free hand, Sarine unbuttoned Brittany's dress and gave each of her breasts a rough once-over. "I really ought to let Biliana do this," she grumbled, ignoring Brittany's grunts of pain at her awkward squeezes. "She is the one who enjoys women, after all. But you're not getting anywhere near her with a wire on you."

"Why would I have a wire?" Brittany protested. "I've got nothing to hide!"

"That will soon be true." Sarine slid down the couch and clamped her own legs around Brittany's, and unceremoniously lifted Brittany's skirt and yanked her panties down to feel around her pussy for a hidden surprise. But just before she did, Sarine paused and looked without touching for a moment. Brittany took note of this and, though she couldn't guess why, she suspected something Sarine saw had somehow changed the game.

Brittany, who had been subjected to far worse in prison, did her best to sound humiliated. "Really, is this necessary? Especially when you don't even like women?!"

"It is completely necessary." Sarine sat back but left Brittany's skirt gathered up around her hips, leaving her thoroughly exposed. "I must admit you appear to be clean," she continued. "A silly fool of a dealer, but perhaps an honest one."

"Perhaps?"

"Perhaps, Erika. Should you convince me, I promise I will give you a lavish apology. But you've a long way to go towards that."

"Have I come far enough for you to set me free, or put my clothes back together at least? I can't really greet Denis like this, can I?"

"Oh, of course you can." Sarine at last stood up, and Brittany heard the stairway door open behind her.

This time the embarrassment was real as Brittany anticipated Denis' voice -- and it was compounded when she instead heard a woman's voice. "Oh my, Sarine, to what do I owe this lovely present?" the voice purred. Brittany turned and looked as best her tether would allow her, and smiled through her fear at the beautiful woman who gazed down at her. "Hello, my darling," the woman said. "I am Biliana."

"Erika," Brittany said as casually as she could hope to do. "Erika Tsoupas, and I really did just come here to talk about a business deal with your husband."

"We can still talk about it," came Denis' voice from off towards the door, at an angle where Brittany couldn't hope to see him.

"Tsoupas," Biliana repeated, stepping up closer to the couch so that Brittany could smell her perfume, and helping herself to a shameless gaze between Brittany's legs. "Greek, I take it?"

"Greek American," Brittany confirmed, wondering should she spread her legs and give Biliana a better look. She decided against it, that move having already landed her in all this indignity.

"And looking very much the part," Biliana said with a hungry grin. "You have a lovely burning bush."

"Thank you." Now Brittany did spread her legs, a gesture Biliana seemed to appreciate, as she unbuttoned her tailored pants. Brittany couldn't help grinning as she remembered Winnie's offer of a waxing and where that might have gotten her now. "You're welcome to explore it, you know," she added.

"And so I shall," Biliana said, pulling her pants and panties down to reveal that she was shaved clean. "I prefer to go bare myself," she explained, "But big bushes like yours are utterly irresistible to me. I'm feeling absolutely starved of them lately, too. I'm just back from a heavenly month in Athens, and having a horrible time trying to readjust. Is your family from there?" Without an iota of shame and without waiting for an answer, she removed her blouse and bra and stood, stark naked but very much in charge, before Brittany. "Sarine, Denis," she said matter-of-factly. "Unchain her. Now."

Sarine obeyed, but she looked Brittany in the eye and warned her, "You are still not free to go, my dear, do you understand?"

"And why should she want to go anywhere without making love to me?" Biliana demanded. "Thank you, Sarine, but that is quite enough out of you." Perching on the edge of the couch between Brittany's legs, she said to her, "Let's get you out of that dress, shall we?"

"I might insist on it," Brittany said, heedless of their audience. "Honestly, I abhor sex with my clothes on. I feel like a prisoner." Immediately she wanted to kick herself for using that word, but there was no sign that it rang any alarms with any of the others.

"I quite agree, as you can see," Biliana said, pulling the dress gently over Brittany's head. She draped it over the radiator, and Brittany expected to be relieved of her bra as well. But Biliana left it on, grabbed Brittany firmly by the hips, and dove into her bush.

"Oohhf!" Brittany yelped, grabbing at Biliana's head as she felt the other woman's tongue dancing expertly around her clit. She was vaguely aware of either Sarine or Denis rushing up behind her, but whoever it was stopped as it became clear that Brittany wasn't trying to hurt Biliana. Far from it, indeed, as the sensations were absolutely delicious. Whatever awaited her after this was over with, Brittany was far too lost in the throes of pleasure to resist for the moment. Remembering what Sarine had said about how Denis got off on watching his wife with other women, she made a conscious effort to exaggerate her passionate writhing and moans as Biliana brought her to orgasm. But she found she didn't need to exaggerate -- the intense pleasure was real!

So was the loud shriek when she came, after which Biliana came up for air with a satisfied look on her dampened face. "Thank you, Erika," she said. "It is ever so gratifying to know I can still do that." She wasn't done, for Brittany soon felt two of Biliana's fingers nestled in her vagina and her thumb teasing her clit lightly; but the touch was light enough for now for Brittany to get herself under control again as the waves of intensity receded.

"Thank you," Brittany said with a grin that wasn't feigned at all. "I hope your husband enjoyed the show as much as I'm led to believe he would."

"I did," Denis said, now stepping forward to enjoy a shameless gander at Brittany's mostly-naked body. "But exactly where did you hear that, Erika Tsoupas?"

"From Sarine," Brittany said triumphantly, hoping she had stumbled onto something she wasn't supposed to know.

Evidently she had, for Sarine came rushing from the sidelines as well. "You bitch," she snarled. "How dare you lie like that?"

"Sarine, that's enough!" Denis held her back until she was under control again. "I don't know if she really heard that from you or not, but I know it could have been you. In any event, the secret is out."

"Does it matter who let it out, Denis?" asked Biliana, now picking up the pace with her hand to keep Brittany from getting any too articulate again; Brittany was back to moaning in appreciation. "Indeed, if she heard it elsewhere, it only means she trusts you, since she came here."

"Yes, but can we trust her?" Sarine demanded.

"I'd say Bili is making it worth her while to do so," Denis said, gazing on in amusement as his wife's handplay once again had Brittany wriggling about in pleasure. "What do you think, Sarine?"

"I don't trust her," Sarine said. "Too many questions, and there is the way she threw herself at you over lunch."

"With a little footsie?!" Brittany managed to say between gasps of joy as Biliana had her well on the way to another orgasm.

"She's right, Sarine, it was only a bit of flirting," Denis said. "But I'm afraid I have to agree with you. Ms. Tsoupas, I've enjoyed getting to know you and watching you and my wife put on this show for me, but I'm afraid I cannot trust you to do business with." He unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his rock-hard cock, and Brittany gazed upon it in appreciation. "Now, I'm going to let you two ladies enjoy one another a bit longer and I'm going to enjoy the show as well, and then we're going to have to send you on your way."

"I understand," Brittany murmured rhythmically as Biliana had her almost beyond articulation with her caresses.

"I'm ever so happy to hear that," Denis grunted as he rubbed himself along with his wife's strokes.

Brittany welcomed his hungry gaze upon her pussy as Biliana's fingers drew in and out of it, and looked on as he drew himself close to the edge she also felt herself approaching. The door opened and slammed behind her -- Sarine excusing herself? -- but that barely registered with Brittany as she felt another intense orgasm washing over her. One throaty "Yes!" was enough to bring Denis off as well, and she was still howling in pleasure as she watched him come with a burst of white upon the carpet between them, which spurred her on to even greater heights as Biliana's rubbing still hadn't slowed down.

At last Brittany felt Biliana's fingers slipping out for the last time, and a moment later her nose buried in her bush for a long last luxuriant sniff and a kiss on her vulva. "Beautiful," Biliana declared as she stood back up and reached for a tissue to wipe her hand clean. "Please don't ever shave."

"I promise." Brittany sat up and reached tentatively for her panties on the floor beside the couch. Seeing no objection from Denis, she stood up and put them back on.

"Thank you ever so much for a lovely show," Denis said just as matter-of-factly as if he were thanking her for buying him a coffee. "I am sure I do not need to tell you, it wouldn't be wise to tell anyone what you've seen or done here, though."

"Of course not, sir."

"If I cannot trust you for the time being, that might change. Depending on your own discretion."