The Venetian Series 05: Dead in the Water

Rodica trembled uncontrollably for a moment as her juices streamed down her thighs. She whispered, "Will you let me do something?"

"What would you like, Rodica?"

She caught her breath and grinned at him conspiratorially, then helped him to his feet, falling to her knees to reverse their positions. Rodica unzipped his pants, allowing his cock to spring free. She wrapped her lips around it and sucked it until Helmut cried out in pleasure. Then she took a beaded necklace from around her neck, wrapping it deftly around Helmut's cock and balls.

"May I take a picture?" She asked in the direction his face.

"Go ahead," grinned Helmut.

Rodica reached for her tablet and took a series of pictures, showing them to him when they were finished. His hard cock loomed gigantic in the photo, festooned with the beaded loops. "Maybe I make this into a painting?"

Helmut laughed. Again he whispered, "Go ahead."

Then he took the tablet from her and enclosed her in his arms. Their kiss lasted forever, growing ever sweeter and hotter, and their lovemaking continued on and on throughout the night.

***

The sun was on its way down as Michela stood at the landing near her home, watching her boat and driver approach through the smooth green water. The boat's electric motors gurgled softly as the driver eased it up against the wall of the canal.

She stepped into the boat and took her seat. She was aware that her pulse was elevated, her panties wet, and her nipples swollen and throbbing. Till had finally called.

She directed her driver to take her to the Hotel Regina, and he made his way to the Grand Canal. Michela clenched her thighs in anticipation - the Regina was a haughty establishment. It would be a lovely place to have some kinky sex.

The driver deposited her at the Regina's landing. She was dressed to the nines - her thigh-length Prada coat with rabbit trim, silk dress, and daring heels. As instructed, she took the elevator to a suite on the top floor, found the room number, and knocked.

Till answered the door, and invited her in. The room was lavishly appointed. Windows stretched all the way from the floor to the high chandeliered ceilings, revealing the balcony outside and the bright lights shimmering across the Grand Canal. They were adorned by sumptuous curtains, gathered at the bottom.

Four men wearing expensive suits sat in a row of chairs. They appeared to be in their 40s and 50s; one was Asian, one possibly Latin American, the others European or American. Till escorted her to the center of the room and introduced her.

"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Signora Michela da Rimini. She is from a very old and established family here in Venice, one that has played a leading role in the life of the city for centuries."

The four men greeted her politely, and Michela smiled, returning their greetings. Then Till began to undress her. He removed her coat and placed it on the couch, before unzipping her dress and allowing it to slide to the floor. She felt her juices welling up and seeping out into her panties and down her thighs. Till was going to fuck her in front of his business associates. Exquisite!

Now she stood before the four businessmen in just her bright blue bra, panties and heels. Till commanded, "Show these gentlemen how you like to make yourself cum."

Michela smiled at her audience, then seized the waistband of her panties, pulling them up tight against her cunt lips. Then she ran her fingers over her crotch, pointing to the spreading wet spot there. The eyes of Till's associates felt hot on her skin as she lasciviously petted her crotch. Soon she needed more, and her hand invaded the panties, seeking the source of her wetness.

Her left hand crept under her brassiere and began to squeeze and twist her nipple. She could see the intense interest in the eyes of her watchers, and it was making her hot, so hot. She thrust her hips forward and made eye contact with the men as she worked her fingers on her clit beneath the panties. She stared boldly into their faces, one by one, making sure they saw just how aroused she was. When she reached the last of them, the Asian man, she came, loudly.

The men applauded. Then Till, who had stood with his arms crossed near the door, made a further announcement. "Gentlemen, I am sure Michela is ready to entertain you further, in any way you might desire. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a pressing engagement across town."

Michela reddened. "Till, you're leaving?"

"Yes, Michela, I do have other plans."

Michela set her jaw. "I need to talk to you."

"If you wish." He gestured toward the balcony. Michela grabbed her coat from the couch and followed him out, closing the door behind her.

Till faced her as she turned from the door. "Is there a problem?"

Michela's voice was as cold as the night outdoors. "You brought me here simply to entertain your friends?"

"I thought that you might enjoy it," said Till laconically.

"What do you think I am, a common whore?"

"Well, certainly not a common one." Amusement flashed momentarily in Till's eyes.

Michela would not tolerate such a blow to her pride. She wanted to hurt him, let him know she was not to be trifled with. She played the one card she had.

"Am I that insignificant to you? Someone to be simply discarded, like Heather O'Shaughnessy?"

A tiny crease of tension flickered at the side of Till's mouth, and he waited a moment to answer. "No, Michela. She was actually rather significant to me. That's the difference."

Michela felt rage coil up from her stomach into her chest and neck, sudden and irrevocable. She struck his shoulders with both hands, putting her weight into it. He teetered precariously on the railing of the balcony. For an instant it seemed as if he might regain his balance, then he tilted backward and disappeared. It seemed like quite a long time before Michela heard the splash in the water below.

Epilogue

It was a quiet morning in the courtroom. The hearing was sparsely attended, with just the principals and a boredpaparazzo.

Michela felt a glowing burst of nostalgia, as she discreetly made eye contact with Judge Iacopo Modugno. There had been a lovely tryst ten years earlier. It was one night only, for the judge was a happily married man. But it was memorable, to say the least.

Judge Modugno had just granted a defense motion to dismiss manslaughter charges against Michela on the grounds of self-defense. The prosecutor seemed satisfied with this outcome.

It was good to put this business behind her, thought Michela, although there had been some unpleasantness in the press. She had made a business arrangement with Bedrich to keep the unpleasantness to a minimum. She was a little surprised that he had agreed to take the assignment, but he had mentioned that he didn't enjoy being idle. He had done an effective job, as always; everyone was impressed with the competent way he handled these sensitive matters. And of course, he of all people was not likely to hold a grudge against her because Till was dead. It was unfortunate, but these things happen. Especially in Venice.

The End

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Dear reader, you have reached the end of my five-part series. Your votes and comments are always appreciated. And I would like to take a moment here to offer my heartfelt thanks to the irresistible legerdemer, whose encouragement and superlative editing made this project possible.