I received the call from my agent just after lunch on a Friday. Fridays aren’t days that I normally allocate for work and especially Friday afternoons. On this particular day, I was leaving Maximilian’s my favourite lunchtime restaurant with a soon to be favourite blond on my arm.
Greta was waiting for a friend to join her and got tired of waiting, I was there to enjoy Chef Max’s famous Seafood platter and not to be distract from an important task like that by a blond in distress. In retrospect, I have to admit that it was Greta’s tight bum in a pair of shorts that caused my attention to wander from a crayfish leg that I was busy sucking on. She was tall and her fine behind was definitely not her only asset. Her boobs were firm and she didn’t wear a bra on the day. A little diamond stud glistened in her navel above the low cut shorts. To save her from any more embarrassment I stood up and after calming, her down invited her to join me for lunch. It took several glasses of wine before she relaxed but eventually she sat back in her chair, smiled at me and said: “So tell me why the fuck you cared enough to come and rescue me?” An hour or so and a bottle of wine later we left the restaurant with the intention of screwing each other’s brains out. It was refreshing to be so mutually clear on our intentions and the fact that it was only that – no string attached. It was when we stepped out of the lift in my apartment building that my phone rang. Greta had her tongue in my ear and a hand down my pants tickling my dick, which made it very difficult to focus on the voice on the other end of the line. It was Cameron my Agent and he said something about getting to the airport where my ticket and details of a job was waiting. The critical part of the conversation was that I had to be at the airport in an hour. Talk about bad timing! Here I was about to be ravaged by a Viking blond and I had to get to the fucking airport. Time to change my agent but that would have to wait. Groping for my keys that were stuck in my pocket, I calculated that I had enough time to screw Greta, pack my bag and make it to the airport. That was if there was no traffic on the way….. Greta was even better without clothes. Her body was soft and hard in all the right places. A pair of legs that loved wrapping themselves around my neck when I stuck my tongue into her pussy and a pair of tits that bounced when she sat on top of me and rode me like a wild mustang. It was with great regret that I rolled her of me and started looking for my travel bag. While I was packing, she remained in bed playing with herself complaining that I didn’t make her cum enough. I realised that she had a case when she leant across and took a small vibrator out of her bag. She came with the toy deep in her throbbing cunt. The thought of a woman playing herself while I was busy packing to leave nearly made me unpack there and then. I resisted and in no part because I was looking forward to the job that was waiting for me. The job was one that I was waiting for, for a long time. It was in the Seychelles a small island group in the Indian Ocean . It is particularly popular with French tourists and was famous for its beautiful white beaches, food and annual festival. I was on my way to do a story on the festival. The reason I wanted to do the story so badly and was prepared to leave a hot, horny and sopping wet blond in my apartment was the festival. The annual Harvest festival stems from the days when the Seychelles were a major sugar exporter and most of the workers slaves. It was the one occasion in the year when nobility, slaves and other inhabitants of the island relaxed and got together for a good time. Over the years and with the sugar trade being replaced by tourism as the major source of income on the islands, the festival changed as well and became a celebration of life. This was according to the brochure in my hands, which I was studying as the plane circled the airport to approach the runway from the ocean. Thoughts of Greta still lingered but it was soon replaced when I saw the turquoise ocean and white beaches flashing by during the landing. I was whisked away by the hotel staff and before I realised what had happened I was in my room with the breeze coming from the ocean lifting the curtains just enough to cool the room down. According to my Job brief that I received back home, I was to meet my guide later that evening to join the opening of the festival. In the meantime, I was free to explore and get some info for my story. It was hard to imagine that anyone worked in this paradise but that was why I was there and I dutifully took my camera and notepad and set of to explore. The entrance of the hotel was packed with tourists, guides and staff when I arrived there later that evening to meet up with my guide. The guides in general seemed to be old men that have spent their lives showing holidaymakers and tourist what the islands hold in store. Most of them were enthusiastic and keen but I spotted the odd grumpy one. I prayed that mine wasn’t one of them as I scanned the crowd for my name on a little board. I am sure all of us have experienced that sensation of seeing something but not realising that its true.