Desertion

Jana wondered whether the exquisite drifting feeling that she was experiencing was what floating in the womb and being born felt like, or whether it was closer to dying. Either way it was heavenly. She groaned contentedly as she moved her hands through the glutinous mess of mud that covered and cuddled her lithe body in the open air mosaic-tiled bath at the exclusive Wildside Valley Spa.

She had never believed it could be so luxuriantly sensual. The skin on her face was taut but everywhere else she was slippery yet buoyant. Her limbs and muscles were no longer distracting her with their anxieties and vague discomforts. It was as if her body had floated away and her mind had been left alone to its own blissful devices. She breathed deeply and looked up at the cloudless sky as she savored the desert morning air and the strangely wholesome smell of the liquid dirt in which she lay. Jana rearranged her head on the wooden platform with it's carefully placed white towels and the attendant hovered by, watching closely for the signs of claustrophobia that some people showed in the mud baths.

"Why does this feel so good?" Jana murmured.

"It's all to do with the mineral salts and the texture and temperature of the mud," the attendant replied politely. "Many believe that mud has healing powers."

"Maybe they're right," Jana groaned as she closed her eyes and let the mud work its magic. She felt almost as good as if she'd had a hard satisfying fuck. A smile flickered across her full lips at her thoughts. This two day stay; complete with pampering was in fact, preparation for a night of fucking. There were definite advantages to being the mistress of a wealthy businessman, she mused cynically but there were downsides too and although she had agreed to participate in a threesome for her lover, Ian's benefit, she was not certain of how it would all work out.

The attendant's voice cut into her reverie, "Time's up, Ma'am."

Jana staggered from the slippery mud and was swathed in a large crisp towel and led to a wooden floored shower area where coiled hose pipes waited with powerful jets to rinse off the mud. She joined another guest in the shower and they giggled like schoolgirls, twisting and turning as the powerful jets pounded their bodies, teasing their nipples to full erectness and reminding them of the pleasures that lay nestled between their thighs.

Still tingling, Jana was dried off and rubbed down with a loofah until her rejuvenated skin glowed. Being naked in the open air seemed as natural as breathing and Jana caught a few women glancing enviously at her tight body with her pert breasts and smooth pussy. She shrugged on a white terry robe and strolled over to one of the pools at the Spa. It was a large heated rock pool with a breathtaking view that stretched for miles to the mountains across the parched desert plains with their gnarled spiky plants and stark trees surrounded by gleaming white dunes

"It's all about the desert," Jana whispered as she felt the warmth from the sun caress her face and the first flush of excitement tingled up her spine. That's why she was here, why she was preparing to fuck a strange man.

Her eyes scanned the picturesque dunes with their perfectly contoured shadows of ripples and undulating crests towering against the sky. Deserts could be forbidding, inhospitable even treacherous places where the land and its inhabitants, human and otherwise, lay exposed to the harshest of earth's elements. Yet, as she had learned, they could also be places of unexpected and astonishing beauty. Places in which that very exposure yielded a kind of spiritual cleanliness and seductive mystery. Christopher Santee, artist extraordinaire, and her soon to be lover, lived and worked on the outskirts of the desert she was gazing across and after tonight, Ian would own a priceless piece of Christopher's desert.

***

Jana thought back to how it had all started a week previously when they had seen a painting called 'Desertion' on display at a gallery cocktail party for the Painter's latest work. Ian was smitten from the instant he had set eyes on it and was consumed with a passion to own it. It was exquisite in its rich simplicity and stark reality. The canvas bursting with color as it depicted the desert with it's spectacular dunes under a dying dusk sky, blood red from the slaughtered sun with other colors crowding in from the edges; marmalade orange, magenta, dusky pink and shades of purple. Almost too real for life but breathtaking in it's vivid beauty and magnetic power.

Ian's dilemma had begun when he had seen that 'Desertion' was clearly marked 'Not for Sale.' It was on exhibition merely as a tribute to the genius talent of the painter and to generate interest in his other work. But Ian had not reached the pinnacle of success as a property development tycoon by accepting 'no' as an answer. He existed and thrived in a world where the impossible was negotiated and deals were forged, no matter what. Everything and everyone he believed had a price and 'Desertion' would be no exception. All that remained was for Christopher Santee to name it. He could already see the painting dominating the wall of his imposing office awing and seducing his staff, his competitors and his wealthy clients.

The one thing Ian hadn't counted on was Christopher's resolve. His art was about passion and soul and his own satisfaction rather than money or success.

"Trust me on this," Ian said, "My collection of art is impressive and this painting will be shown to full advantage. I am prepared to pay whatever you believe its value to be."

Jana suppressed a smile as she'd watched the egos play out. Ian's persuasion was not working but she knew he would not capitulate. For him it was all about ownership and possession. He had once bragged that he could possess any beautiful thing his heart desired, and he had proved it in his relentless pursuit of her. Although flattered by his attentions, she had been slow to submit, enjoying the chase and being in the position of the coveted prey. Ian too had relished the challenge of the hunt and the eventual conquest, finding Jana to be unlike any other woman he'd ever known.

Christopher Santee shot a glance of pure exasperation at the ceiling. "You think it's all about money, don't you?" His voice was cold and hard. He detested the megabuck collectors who believed their money made them connoisseurs of life and art.

"Now, listen Christopher, I won't profess to know what it takes to create a work of this magnificence," Ian replied, trying hard not to sound condescending, "But I do know that I want to reward you for it. I love it, I want to own it. Whatever your price, I will pay it."

The light from the overhead lamp caught Christopher from the side and illuminated his dark moody eyes. They flickered from Ian and settled on Jana. It had been difficult to ignore her although she had remained silent throughout the conversation. Her auburn hair hung sleekly to her shoulders and her almond-shaped green eyes showed the merest hint of amusement. The simple black dress she wore was haute couture, probably Chanel or Givenchy, he decided and the almost total absence of jewellery suggested that she was either rich, or completely at ease with herself, with no need to impress. Christopher had noticed as well that there was no wedding band and no flashy diamond ring but it was patently clear from Ian's body language and the possessive way his arm encircled her waist that theirs was not a casual relationship.

"What does this painting say to you?"

Jana turned to the canvass. Christopher Santee was a man of few words, but these were directed towards her. The avant-garde gallery with it's chattering people had gone away. Ian had receded into the background and for a moment, there was only the artist and his vibrant and stark landscape that stared back at her.

"It's very strong," she said. "It's not just about the sun deserting, falling below the horizon, it's about the brimming life in the desert. The energy and the raw passion, it's like...like a wild animal's hunger." The words spilled from her lips with a fervor and a breathlessness she could not understand. "It speaks to me of the simplicity and wonder of nature and yet the strength and raw power of survival. It's a little eerie but I don't only see it, I can almost hear it as well ..." She tore her eyes from the canvas and looked away, embarrassed for an instant at the seemingly senseless response that had erupted from her. The force of the painting and the presence of its creator had momentarily overwhelmed her. She stepped back and tried to gather her composure as she gulped down a mouthful of champagne.

Christopher stared straight at her not blinking but his heart pounded as if he had raced across the desert with the howling of a hungry coyote ringing in his ears. The woman had felt it. She had even heard it! How could she have known that the sounds emanating from the dunes always captured his imagination when he painted? Sometimes they were a low hum or a whistling sound, other times the incredible roaring sounds of distant dunes that he heard during the quiet hours of darkness and daybreak. A true phenomenon of wind and earth that no-one could ever control and that he struggled to capture in its arid splendor. She had somehow seen the raw spirit of the pristine wilderness and his soul exposed amid the vivid colors splashed across the canvas. The hair prickled along his spine and he felt a rush of adrenaline and excitement surge through his veins. It was like a wave crashing on the beach.

"Very few people who do not live in the desert understand it; even fewer really see and celebrate my work as it is. But you do," Christopher said huskily. "And so yes, perhaps I will now be prepared to let it go."

Ian smiled in triumph. He'd been right about everyone having their price and despite the objections of the artist he was no exception to the rule. The sweet scent of a successful deal closing teased his senses. "So what's the price to be?" he asked confidently.

"No money," Christopher replied evenly, "But I will take this woman for one night as payment."

"What?" Ian hissed in disbelief. Anger flashed in his eyes like the flame of a campfire in the shadows suddenly flickering to life. "How dare you...?"

Jana let out a shaky exhale. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Suddenly she had become the prize or rather the price of a priceless painting. The rational side of her brain said that she should be outraged and insulted that this man would have the audacity to believe that she would be prostituted for his art, but inexplicably she wasn't. Instead she was acutely aware of the sensuality simmering in his expression as his eyes stared frankly at her. He was attractive in a rugged way with his dark hair swept back from his temples and his skin stained brown from the sun. Beneath the black silk of her dress, Jana's body was talking to her. She could feel a delicious tautness in her nipples at the thought of provoking his lust and unleashing his passion while his hands that seemed graceful and sensitive in contrast to his craggy appearance, caressed her secret places. Her mouth was painfully dry and she felt a pink flush of heat steadily creeping up her throat as she tried to digest the outrageous situation that had developed.

"The asking price is too high I see," Christopher drawled, the flicker of a smile playing across his mouth.

He was not one to make small talk or to banter and Jana had no doubt that the price he had fixed would not be negotiable. She glanced quickly at Ian whose face was as dark and grim as a thunder cloud across the sun. He was furious and looked as if he might lash out at the artist, but despite this Jana noticed his eyes dart guiltily back to the canvas. The desire for the painting still raged within him along with his fury.

The atmosphere was suddenly parched and deliciously brittle, the sort of surroundings in which a single flame could become a conflagration. She realized that the moment was all hers. Both men were influential in their own rights, but unexpectedly, outside the boundaries of social etiquette, the power had shifted to her and she had become the dealmaker. Inexplicably a charge of adrenaline raced through her veins throwing her into chaos as a wild riot of sensation pulsed through her body. The response staggered her. She wanted to believe it was a combination of the champagne and the stress of the situation she found herself in, but the aching arousal she felt could not be denied. Whether it was the incredible power of flaunting convention and having both these men at her mercy she did not know, but the words tumbled from her mouth with absolute clarity.

"We can get together next Saturday evening. However, since the painting is for Ian he must be part of it too." Her voice was low and her smile cool but she had never felt so deliberately sexy in all her life. "Is it a deal?"

"My ranch is on the outskirts of the desert. I'll expect you at seven," Christopher said as he gave her a careless once-over and then directed his gaze slowly over her breasts up to her face. "And yes, it seems that we do have a deal."

The way he had looked at her drew up yet another physical rush of sensation sending all thoughts of playing it cool and aloof from Jana's head. It was quick, arrogant and terribly male. It made her feel as if he'd already taken advantage in some way that he shouldn't have, as if he'd pulled her into one of the gallery's seductively lit recesses and slid his hand up under her dress to finger her pussy. Perspiration dampened her lip as she turned to Ian. If he didn't get her out of the gallery immediately, they might not have to wait until next Saturday.

***

It was a strange week that passed. A week in which Jana had waited with interest to see whether Ian would reconsider and renege on the deal. During her three year affair with him, she had remained faithful and despite her attraction to Christopher, she'd wondered whether Ian would eventually come to the conclusion that pimping his mistress out for a painting was indeed too high a price to pay. During their lovemaking he had taken her with a passion and hunger that she didn't recognize. Thrusting his cock into her while reiterating over and over again how she was his and his alone. Like another beautiful possession, like a piece of property, she though cynically. Something close to conscience prickled him but he never mentioned the deal. Instead he bought her a Cartier bracelet and insisted that she spend two days before Saturday at the Wildside Valley Spa, a place that resembled paradise and catered to those who valued pampering.

***

Christopher Santee stepped outside onto the deck at the front door to his ranch for a breath of fresh air and a wall of cold air hit him. The sun and the heat were long gone, the clouds had drifted from the distant mountains and the blueness of the sky had quickly thickened to a dark metallic color as the temperature dropped rapidly. The silence from the fierce remoteness rushed down and engulfed him but as always he felt strangely at peace. Here in the desert he was able to strip away the layers of façade that had surrounded him in his former business as a freelance commercial artist where clients dictated what he created. Christopher had always been drawn to wide open spaces and could see parallels between deserts and oceans. In his mind they echoed each other and it was here in the desert that he could paint and explore his relationship with nature and find the roots that nourished him. But tonight he was excited and it was not the desert that was thrilling him.

He had left Ian and Jana looking at some of his new work in his studio while he had gone through to the living room to place fresh logs in the fireplace and pour cognacs. Dinner had been a civilized affair but he had been distracted by Jana for much of it. Unlike their first meeting, she had worn spiky black heels, a black miniskirt and a jacket that looked like a man's tuxedo jacket over her naked body. Two strands of choker pearls adorned her neck. During dinner and much to the annoyance of Ian she had subtly flirted with Christopher, playing with the foaming champagne flute and fingering the glassware's smooth lines as if it were a cock. She was a millennium Jezebel with a touch of class; sassy, sexy and alluringly feminine. Everything about her said that she was there to fuck and she made no apologies for it. Christopher's testosterone was pumping.

"You have some fabulous work in progress," she purred as she strode into the living room. "Who knows, perhaps we can commission for another piece."

Christopher laughed, "You thinking of becoming an art dealer?"

Jana let her eyes sweep over him. He was casually dressed in jeans and a black cashmere sweater but she had felt his presence everywhere closing in around her, enveloping her in his raw masculinity "Well, anything is possible..." she said breathing in the faint scent of his male musk.

"Yeah, with a dealmaker like you anything is possible..."

Christopher had made enough small talk and he pulled Jana towards him. His fingers stroked her face tenderly exploring the line of her jaw and her throat. The first tentative touch of his lips caused her to sigh with excitement. The anticipation of pleasure was sharp, almost more than she could bear. He immediately sensed her arousal and kissed her hard searching her mouth restlessly with his tongue as his hands began to prowl her body, hot and violating, fumbling with the buttons on her jacket and dragging up her skirt. Her stomach fluttered and clenched as she felt his hardness pressing into her. It had happened so quickly. For a fleeting second she wondered what Ian was thinking but the sensations of Christopher's hands fondling her nude breasts were so intense, so startlingly vibrant that Jana felt as if she were going to slither to the floor and dissolve in a puddle of hot pussy juice. Her skirt slid to the floor with a whisper and she stood naked except for the black heels and the pearl choker before Christopher.

He kissed her again passionately, curving his hand to the fiery mound between her legs. Jana gasped as his finger slid through the folds of her pussy. His touch was like a branding iron on bare flesh and she convulsed as he penetrated her deeply.

"You're wet," he said huskily. "You want it, don't you?"

She couldn't speak, she could hardly breathe. How the fuck had this become so thrilling? Ian was watching her being taken by another man. It was crazy but why did this whole insane encounter suddenly excite her?

"Answer me Jana, you want it don't you?" Christopher insisted.

"Yes," she moaned as writhing jolts of electricity coursed through her from his touch.

"But who do you want it from Jana? Me or Ian?"

Her eyes flickered to Ian who had come into view. He was watching them closely and she could see the mix of explosive jealousy, anger and desire darken his features. Bastard, she thought. Unreasonable bastard! Having her pay the price for his painting and then being pissed about her having a good time.

"From you Christopher, I want it from you." It was the truth and he could see it in her eyes. She wanted him now, urgently.

"Touch me," he said. "Take it out of my pants."

She reached down and pressed her fingers to the throbbing heat that filled his jeans. He was rock hard beneath the crushing fabric. She had never felt such tensile power. Her fingers trembled as she struggled to draw his zipper down. He was huge and bulged against her fingers arousing her terribly. His moan of frustration told her she was driving him wild with her fumbling.

"Take it out for Christ's sake. Touch me," he urged.

The material of his cotton briefs was stretched tight, giving her very little working room, but she curled her fingers around the base of his thick cock and gasped as it came out her like a steel spring.