The large flat screen's digital clock had said '8:16' in bright green-lit digits, and it was tuned to an Asian-based English-speaking news channel when she turned it on. She fidgeted as she brought the tea cup to her lips, squirming on the sofa, her legs folded under her in the living room. She bit her lip as she eyed the clock under the screen again, not seeing, hearing or caring what the falsely smiling anchors on it were saying, trying to ignore the confused jumble of emotions poised at the edge of her consciousness, the all-too-familiar mix of nervousness, anticipation, excitement, anxiety, uncertainty and apprehension churning through her as she obediently waited for him.

And much as she tried to deny it, she knew it was the same collage of emotions experienced by a woman before a first date.

Except that unlike every other first date she had ever been on, she knew this one was definitely ending with sex, which only added to the excitement. As instructed, and it disturbed her that she couldn't bring herself to rebel, she was nude, legs freshly shaven, gloss on her lips, the combined scents of jasmine and sandalwood rising from carefully moisturized skin. She furled her lip up to her nose as she took another sip of her tea, feeling her nipples tighten on her breasts as they moved freely on her chest, the ever present heat stirring between her legs ... it was likely going to start with sex. She didn't need to touch herself to know that she was still wet and becoming more so, her pussy churning out lubrication as the clock counted down the minutes.

Her emotions disturbed her, and she forcefully reminded herself that she would be getting on a plane and on her way back to her real life - what was left of it - within the next twenty-four hours, both Thailand and Marquin Haydn consigned to memory. She knew it was dangerous to feel the way she was feeling—this dinner, this 'whatever-it-was', was no date, no beginning of a new relationship; he was just a fling ... a business arrangement, a rebound ... revenge, nothing more.

Except that it didn't feel like revenge, not any more. It had stopped feeling like revenge some time in the last twenty four hours, she realized. That did bother her. She found the absence of pain when she thought of her fiancee profoundly disturbing, especially since she realized she'd barely thought of him since ... since Marq 'renegotiated' their arrangement in the shower. And now she felt nothing, even when she deliberately brought up the image of him and Jillian on the dance floor, even when she imagined them in bed together, bodies entwined, secure in the ignorance of their significant others thousands of miles away on the other side of the world as they joyfully fucked each other to exhaustion.

The warmth between her legs went up several notches as she imagined her fiancee and his married lover, naked bodies joined and heaving in lust, copulating over and over again ... and then the woman's brown hair was suddenly curly and black, her figure smaller yet fuller and rounder, the slim lined and light haired man melting and expanding into a broad shouldered male form, hair cut low and dark. The two figures clutched and clawed at each other, united in mindless need. The man was rough, squeezing the woman's heavy breasts, grasping the copious mass of her butt as he drove his hardness into her vagina, growling in pleasure as he held her open. The woman's mouth was open, crying out in ecstasy as her lover repeatedly entered her body, her own hands squeezing and caressing, her body responding with answering movements of her own ...

She squirmed, goosebumps rising on her skin, her pussy warm with heat as she eyed the clock again; '8:19'. Just over ten minutes and she would learn what Marq Haydn meant by 'dinner.' She was lifting the tea cup to her lips again when she heard the lock turn and the slight creak of the door opening. She turned, breath only slightly catching in her throat when he came into view and their eyes met.

He said nothing for a long moment and she grew more self-conscious as he looked at her, eyes going over her nakedness.

Then he walked over to her. Wordlessly, knowingly, she placed her hand in his when he extended it to her and stood up. She went on her tip-toes, putting her arms around his neck as he bent his head down to kiss her parting lips. She grunted as his hand closed on a swollen breast, teasing the hardening nipple in his fingers, writhing against him as his other hand made its way behind and underneath her, gasping as his fingers easily penetrated her wetness, her readiness for him plain as the heat between her legs exploded into a raging inferno.

She gasped against his lips when she broke the kiss, reaching between them, tugging and loosening, her hands feverishly working to free his erection. His molesting of her breasts had become less gentle as he roughly pulled her up against him and growled at the back of his throat, the friction of his hand on her nipples making her quiver and cry out.

His pants were bunched up around his knees when he abruptly picked her up and spun to carry her over to the nearest wall. He easily lifted her up, bracing her against it, her legs spread around him, her thighs over his arms as she wrapped her arms around his neck tighter, bracing herself as his hardness touched her entrance, parting her nether lips.

She let out a squeal, stiffening as he lowered her down on his erection, so stimulated she was coming before he was fully inside her body.

The small part of her mind still capable of thought realized that they'd not exchanged a single word, that less than a minute had passed between his entering the suite and his entry into her body.

At that moment, Honor knew she wouldn't care if he did parade her naked through Bangkok.

He didn't wait for her to catch her breath before he started sliding in and out of her pussy. Not that she expected him to - he wasn't particularly considerate in that way, she'd learned. So she simply held on and buried her face in his neck, her sharp intakes of breath as he thrusted into her body loud amidst his own quiet grunting. She came again, within the minute, throwing her head back, banging it against the wall and gasping as her body shook and she clasped herself around him, her breasts squeezed against his shirt covered chest. Her cunt rippled around his cock as he continued to stroke into her shaking body, and suddenly he growled and stiffened, going still, pressing her hard against the wall. Honor clutched him to her, knowing he was about to come and getting ready to accept his load into her body.

And then he came, his entire body stiffening as he cried out. Her entire body flushed, alive with heat as she closed her eyes, feeling that strange joyous pride in his eruption, his loss of control, savoring the warmth of his cum as he came inside her.

Finally, spent, he gently, slowly, withdrew from inside her, lifting her off his cock. She cried out, in equal parts protest and pleasure as his shaft slid against her walls, suddenly feeling intensely bereft at his exit. Her feet felt numb as they met the carpeted floor, her legs rubbery, knees weak, and she might have fallen if her arms were not still around his neck and she wasn't still pressed against the wall by his bulk, feeling his manhood, wet from being inside her, against her belly as he hungrily captured her lips.

She returned the kiss, pressing herself against him as his hands roamed her body, once again teasing her breasts, stroking the soft skin of her belly, kneading the heavy mounds of her butt, feeling the heated wetness between her thighs, before he finally broke the kiss, leaving her panting excitedly, moaning in the back of her throat.

"Hello," she said, at last, for lack of anything else to say.

He grinned, still wearing his glasses. "Hi."

She giggled and pressed herself against him again, his cock, still wet from her liquid, pressing distractingly against her belly.

A bell rang and she froze, startled; someone was at the suite door.

"Ahh ... right on time," he said, certainly not missing the look of apprehension on her face, and it certainly didn't help that the next thing he said was; "Ready for dinner?"

________________________

As it turned out, Marq apparently had not made any plans to take her out for dinner, with or without clothes - the bell ringer had been a member of the hotel's wait staff arriving with a large serving cart.

Which was a relief, as dinner was indeed a clothes-free affair - at least for her. She'd protested at the unfairness of it at first, but gave up when she realized he would not be moved, especially after the thoroughly disconcerting and arousing episode of molestation that she'd brought upon herself for pouting about it.

Completely nude and still somewhat breathless from the ordeal, she knew enough psychology to know that forcing her to remain naked while he remained clothed was a clear demonstration of power - his over her. And as she meekly sat across the dinner table from him, she realized that somewhere inside her, probably around the time he'd so effortlessly 'renegotiated' their arrangement, she had accepted the simple fact of it; he was in control, and much as sensible disciplined Honor Banet would deny it, she was enjoying it. A lot.

Her nipples were hard and pointing, a wet pulsing warmth alive and raging between her legs as she watched him smoothly set the table and light the five thin candles on the candelabra in the middle. He used the room control unit to lower the lights and change the channel away from 'Ramya' and her princely lover, who, night of passion over, were making their way back from the oasis, riding hard to reach the palace before dawn. The 'Pausing' sign appeared before the screen went dark and music started playing - playful and low.

Then he was at her side, taking her hand and lifting her to her bare feet. He kissed her, destroying what was left of her resistance as his fingers penetrated her pussy again, making her gasp in pleasure at the invasion as she kissed him back, clawing at him.

"Wait here," he ordered when he was finally done, leaving her breathing hard again, breasts heaving on her chest and staring wildly at him.

Silent, she watched him walk into the hallway leading to the bedrooms, sinking back to her seat, body quivering and goosepimpled. She was suddenly afraid, afraid of how deeply and profoundly he affected her, how completely he was dominating her ... and the fact that she found herself so completely aroused by it. Furtively, she spread her legs and touched herself, squirming in her seat, not surprised to find her clit at full attention, her questing fingers coming away wet and gleaming in the candlelight.

Sensible, disciplined, and decent Honor Banet was suddenly grateful that she was leaving the next day - the same thought made the new Honor Banet - the Honor Banet that was naked and waiting at a beautifully set dinner table in a Bangkok five star hotel suite for a stranger - feel as if there was an anvil in her chest.

When he came back, he was in a sleeveless T-shirt and cotton pyjama bottoms. He lifted her to her feet and kissed her again, hungrily, although this time his roaming fingers did not go exploring between her legs. Then he sat her down again, whatever was left of her self-consciousness that she was nude at a dinner table with a man she'd only met days before, and whatever was left of sensible and decent Honor Banet abruptly too far away to matter.

It helped that the food was excellent. As Marq would let her know as he quite competently served them both, plating the food with some panache, the chef's eclectic mix of Thai, Mediterranean and French cuisine had already won the Grand Imperial's Teakwood restaurant two Michelin stars. First came the coconut and calamari soup appetizer, then the main course of a green risotto of chicken and Thai basil leaf, garlic, ginger, and paprika.

The wine, to her surprise, was non-alcoholic.

They talked, mostly about her day at the Wat Phra Kaew and the Wat Pho and what she thought of Bangkok, surface - safe - topics, and despite her nudity, Honor found herself opening up, exclaiming over the beauty of what she had seen and enjoying his own stories of his first visits to the Far East.

He made no effort to hide that he was looking at her body, her breasts most especially, and enjoying it immensely, yet his eyes never strayed from hers when she was talking, a strange combination of extreme sexual objectification and respect that both flattered and embarrassed her.

She found him intriguing, she admitted to herself, before she savagely tamped down the curiosity that came with it. 'This' - 'he' - was not real. Real life was waiting for her thousands of miles and a turn of the day away. Once she got on her plane tomorrow, 'this' would end, and 'he' would be a never-to-be-revisited chapter in her life.

"You should not leave Bangkok without seeing the Wat Arun," Marq said.

She sighed, smiling. "I wish I could see it."

"That can be arranged."

She regarded him, frowning slightly. "My flight is in the morning tomorrow, remember?"

"There are other flights," he noted, "there's one the day after tomorrow, and the day after that."

She blinked, eyes narrowing as she understood just what he was saying. "I'm leaving tomorrow," she said, brutally suppressing the sudden urge to accept the implicit offer.

"Maybe."

Sensible, disciplined Honor Banet had risen to the fore, "You have to promise you'll let me go tomorrow."

He said nothing.

"No more ..." she felt herself flush, "'renegotiations.'"

He grinned evilly. "I have found that such promises are never wise."

She frowned. "I need you to promise me that you're letting me go tomorrow."

"What if 'you' change your mind?"

The slutty, whorish Honor Banet having dinner naked with a strange man she'd really only just met could, she realized. "I won't." Sensible, disciplined Honor Banet said, firmly.

Silence.

"Please ..." Honor reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "I need you to promise you'll let me go."

He was silent for a long moment, then he nodded. "Okay."

"I need you to say it," Honor said.

"I promise I'll let you go," he said easily.

Impasse over, and brutally suppressing the sudden flash of what suspiciously felt like disappointment, she let go of his hand, and after a moment, continued eating her risotto. She watched him for any sign of deceit, but instead she only saw the familiar predatory glint as his eyes roved over her nakedness.

"You should still see the Wat Arun."

She looked at him evenly. "Next time I'm in Bangkok, I promise I'll do just that."

He smiled, conceding, then he abruptly changed the subject, and language. "Where did you learn French?"

She quirked her lips, for a moment, asking herself whether answering revealed too much, before answering him, in French. "In France, Bordeaux."

"That's where you trained."

"Yes."

"L'Ecole Des Arts Culinaires is in Bordeaux - you must be very talented."

She paused, eyebrows rising at his accuracy but finding herself not really surprised that he knew of The Academy of Culinary Arts in France's sixth largest city. But it made her nervous.

She was given a reprieve from responding by the music changing to something very familiar.

She didn't need to look at the television to know the name of the artist and the song, but she did, and she found herself smiling, and dancing in her seat, moving her shoulders in a familiar rhythm. She caught his look and she felt herself flush. "I love this song," Honor said, uselessly, as if he couldn't see it for himself.

Tuesday evenings were for yoga at the gym, while Thursday evenings had, even if not quite as regularly, been for tango class, with Sarah. Ironically, even though Sarah had dragged her into the class for the sole purpose of Sarah getting her number into the hands of the tango instructor, she'd ended up being the far more enthusiastic student, finding a substitute for the ballet she'd been forced to give up in her teens when her breasts arrived in all their D-cup sized glory. Unfortunately for Sarah ... and not a few other women in the class, Massimo, the tango instructor, turned out to be married to the woman who ran the aerobics class.

Honor stopped dancing, suddenly aware of how every sway of her shoulders shook her bare breasts. "It's Fernando Marqelo," she continued, wanting to break the tension, discomfited by the silence and the way he was looking at her.

"Ah ..." he smiled. "He is supposed to be the new Carlos Gardel."

Honor nodded in agreement, enthusiastic despite herself. "You know tango music?"

"Honestly," he said, grinning, "I read it in a newspaper in Buenos Aires a few months ago."

Honor took her glass to her lips as she stared at him. She'd never been to South America. "It's one of my dream places to visit ... I envy you," she said honestly.

"Unfortunately, I didn't have time to learn much of the dance."

"You didn't spend long?"

"No. It was a business trip."

"That's sad."

His eyebrows rose. "Why?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I think it's sad that you get travel all over the world and hardly ever get to enjoy where you are."

There was a long silence.

"Well," he said, his eyes beginning their familiar tour of her naked body, the single word suddenly lewd, "I'm enjoying Bangkok very much right now." The predatory glint was back in his eyes as he smiled at her.

She was suddenly hot, despite her nakedness, her nudity suddenly something she was very aware of as her nipples tightened and swole even more on her breasts. She would never think of Bangkok, Thailand, or, she suspected, even just order Thai food, without remembering him carrying her to the balcony and showing her the Bangkok skyline as he encircled her naked body in his arms, his member swelling and hardening against her bare skin behind her. And she would certainly never forget how he had felt inside her as he rode her right there, in the rain, until he came inside her ...

Then there was the garage ...

She could see that he had easily noticed her nipples' open advertisement of what was playing on her mind, and she also noticed the sudden deepening of his breathing, showing her that he was not quite as in control as he pretended.

She smiled back at him, suddenly proud and very comfortable with her nakedness, tell-tale nipples and all. She licked her lips, heat rising through her body, wondering if he could see how much she wanted him to spread her on the table and open her legs for his cock until that final forceful release of his cum inside her body. "I am enjoying Bangkok very much too."

Ferdinand Marqelo stopped singing, song over, only for him to start singing another, a slower tempo reworking of a Carlos Gardel classic, one she was very familiar with. This time, Honor was conscious of her body as it followed the song.

She leaned forward and took his hand, watching his eyes and delighting as they went to her breasts. "Would you like to dance with me, Mr. Haydn?"

He smiled. "I'm not much of a tango dancer, Miss Banet."

"Oh, then consider this a lesson." Honor said as she stood up, holding his hand.

She closed the distance between them when he stood after her, melding her body to his and quivering a little as the fabric of his shirt made contact with her swollen, sensitive nipples. His erection against her belly was another interesting distraction.

She put her arms around his neck. "It's all about feeling your partner." Then she brought his head down and kissed him, hard. "And I want you to feel ... every inch ... of me."

The lesson, such as it was, didn't last too long - and his movements resembled a waltz more than a tango - he was certainly no milonguero. But it lasted long enough to tell her that he didn't have two left feet, and he knew how to hold a woman, which profoundly pleased her for reasons she couldn't quite explain. She suppressed the feeling - she wouldn't be dancing with him again after tonight.

It may have been short, but what made it memorable, apart from the fact that she was totally, gloriously naked, were the interludes so his fingers and mouth could have their way with her lips, her neck, her breasts ... her pussy. Not that she wasn't playing with her own favorite parts of his anatomy as she spun, sashayed away, and melded her body back against him, repeatedly kissing and laving her tongue over his lips.

She laughed, lips touching his as she went to the open position and leaned into him, one leg wrapping around the back of his legs as his hand, predictably, grasped her butt. 'Men!' she thought, amused as his other hand went from her waist to fondle her breasts once again. "Naughty boy." she smiled, slipping her hand through his pyjama bottom's waistband and returning the favor.

Her breathing was dangerously elevated as Fernando Marqelo started another slower song as Marq spun her and pulled her back toward him, one hand going to her breasts while the other went questing between her legs. Every womanly instinct told her that they were nearing the end of her 'lesson' as she nestled herself against his crotch, the hardness of his cock between the soft mounds of her butt as she gave herself up to his questing hands and fingers. She arched her neck, smiling as his tongue rasped up to her ear, gasping as, not for the first time, one set of fingers closed on her nipples while another played with her pussy.

Then he let go of her and they were dancing again. Then she was being placed against the wall, writhing and whimpering as he sucked and licked on her breasts, teasing each nipple with his teeth until she let out a shriek of both pain and pleasure.

She didn't let him go this time when he kissed her, one arm behind his neck, the other between them as her fingers wrapped firmly around his cock. "I think we should do something about this, Mr. Haydn," she said breathlessly, feeling him jerk in her hand.

He nodded his agreement, and in the next moment, he was picking her up. She squealed in startlement, forced to abandon his erection and throw both arms around his neck as he carried her back to the table, settling her on her butt. She smiled as he spread her legs open, her hands instinctively going back and somehow finding two unoccupied spaces amidst the plates and glasses behind her, bracing herself as his member nosed at her opening.

She cried out softly, eyes fluttering closed as he entered her, her parted lips pouting up as his mouth came down on hers moments later.

"You're not such a bad dancer after all, Mr. Haydn," she said when he broke the kiss, breathing hard and body quivering at his presence inside her.

He smiled back at her, his breathing just as elevated. "Maybe you're just a good teacher."

She made a moue with her lips, pouting. "Just good?"

He chuckled. "Very, very good. Best teacher ever."

She giggled and sought his lips again. Then she gasped, mouth opening as he started to slide in and out of her pussy.

Yes, she thought as she moved with him, she was immensely enjoying Bangkok.

________________________

David Brenner was finding it hard to concentrate. And it wasn't because it was his third time scrutinizing the merger document he had in front of him.

Earlier that afternoon, he had been in the back of a company provided limousine with Theresa Cheung, daughter of Leonard Cheung of Singapore's infamous law firm of Paulson, Cheung and Roberts. Nepotism may have played a role in her immediate hiring as an associate straight out of the London School of Economics law school, but not much - she was now a senior associate on the way to a well-deserved partnership. The Singaporean bank had demanded the addition of another clause to counter one insisted on by the Thai bank. Naturally, it was now down to the two parties' lawyers to figure out how to unexplode the deal.

Theresa Cheung was a striking mix of her Chinese father and Dutch mother with a very proper English accent, and he was finding it hard keeping his mind on just Thai and Singaporean banking regulations and statutes when her skirt was riding up so high above her sheer stockinged knees.

Making it even harder was the fact that she'd caught him looking at her legs, and the only thing she had done was raise an eyebrow, skirt pointedly left unadjusted. David had responded to the challenge, meeting her eyes, letting her know exactly where he would like to take things when they reached the Excelsior.

So it was something of a wonder that, through the growing sexual tension, he noticed her through the window, standing on the kerb beside a vaguely familiar looking thickset man in front of one of Bangkok's many temples; Honor, his fiancee.

His mouth had dropped and his head had whipped round, just in time to watch his fiancee, or her doppelganger - even their heights were identical - go up on her tip-toes to kiss the man standing beside her.

Theresa Cheung followed his gaze through the back window just in time to see the kissing couple before the car turned the corner. "See someone you know?" she asked.

"No," he said, believing it. It was too much of a stretch of the imagination - his good girl fiancee; sensible, decent Honor, not only cheating on him, but cheating on him in Bangkok, was somewhere well beyond impossible.

Now, eight hours later, that certainty had inexplicably become not quite so solid. At least enough to interfere with his proof-reading - dangerous considering that the misplacing of a comma could lose his client hundreds of millions of dollars. Theresa Cheung's slim body and small high breasts had been a wonderful distraction though, and the five hours they'd spent, the distraction of coitus out of the way, ironing out their clients' differences had certainly been productive. As soon as she'd left the suite, however, the image of his fiancee's carbon copy kissing another man was never far from his mind.

It was crazy, he told himself. Honor would never cheat on him, he thought. Much less travel halfway across the globe to cheat on him in the exact same city. It simply beggared the imagination. Even if this was the second time he was seeing his fiancee's doppelganger in Bangkok - first with Jillian in the restaurant downstairs, and now with Theresa ...

Finally, even if only to satisfy to his doubting inner voice so he could get back to work before Jillian's inevitable call, he picked up the phone on the desk and dialed, tapping in the external line and the country code with particular emphasis.

It was just a few minutes shy of midnight - which meant it was late afternoon back home. He smiled when he heard the ringing tone. Then he frowned as it rang and rang for over a minute before he heard the beep that told him that his call had rung out. Still frowning, he tapped the 'Redial' button. Again, it rang and rang.

But then, just as he thought it was about to cut off again, it was picked up. "Hello?"

His first thought was that she sounded a bit ... breathless. His second was to wonder how he could have possibly thought his sensible, dependable fiancee, even now planning their wedding to the very last detail in her own obsessive compulsive way, could possibly be in Bangkok kissing another man.

"Hi, baby," he said, mentally chastising himself. Come to think of it, the woman he saw this afternoon was obviously taller ...

"Uh ... hi," Honor said.

"Missing you over here," he said. "What are you doing?"

There was a silence. Then, "You know me ... Working on something."

He let out an exaggerated sigh for her to hear. "Another recipe?"

"Yes." A pause, then "Where are you?"

"Bangkok"

Another pause. Then, "That's nice."

"Only thing wrong with it is that you're not here with me."

Again, it was a moment before she answered. "I wish I was there with you too."

He frowned. Something seemed off about her responses - they sounded mechanical, distracted. And her breathing was ... heavy.

"David?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Can I call you back later?"

That's a first, he thought. Usually, it was a struggle to get her off the phone. "Is everything okay?"

There was another silent moment. "I just need to pay attention to what I'm doing."

He smiled as it suddenly dawned on him - the only reason she could sound so distracted. "You're in the kitchen, right? Trying to mix a dessert from Sumatra with something from Belarus?"

A pause, "It's from Switzerland, actually ..."

He chuckled again, amused as his mind conjured up the familiar picture of his fiancee on her hands and knees in her kitchen, anxiously peeking through the oven window. "Okay." he said. "We can talk later. Don't burn the apartment down."

To be honest, he was relieved. Now satisfied beyond doubt that the world had not turned upside down, that his wife-to-be was exactly where she was meant to be, planning their wedding back at home - interspersed with her uncontrollable bouts of experimenting in her kitchen - he was anxious to get back to reviewing the merger agreement.

"I need to go," Honor said after a moment.

"Okay." he responded. "Miss you."

"Miss you too." she answered, quickly. "Bye."

"Bye." he said.

He frowned again as he put down the phone, thinking about the just concluded conversation, unable to place a finger on just what was bothering him about it. After a moment, he shrugged and picked up the sheaf of papers and began to read through them again.

Three minutes later, he had seen four mistakes he hadn't seen in any of his three previous proofreads on just the first two pages. They were minor spelling and punctuation errors that were not particularly significant, but he smiled - his focus had returned.

________________________

They never did make it back to dinner. She had known that they were done with food the moment he had entered her body. She'd answered with her own growl of primal hunger as she opened her mouth for his kiss, body quivering as he slid in and out of her, his hands in turn roughly grasping and groping and then gently caressing, exploring her body again as if for the first time.

She came, screaming when his mouth left her lips to close around her nipple, arching high as he continued sliding his cock in and out of her pussy, abruptly pistoning harder and deeper as his own orgasm approached. Finally, he had pulled out of her with a loud gasp, layering his semen over her belly as he came, still holding her legs open as she cried out along with him.

When had having a man come on her body become something other than an alien experience, she had wondered? And when did she start crying out in pleasure, excited to madness at the feeling of a man's release on her skin?

Afterwards, he had kissed her, hard, leaving her even more breathless, breasts heaving on her chest, nipples erect and pointing.

"How do you do this to me?" she whispered, after looking down at the streaks of semen adorning her belly, a quiver in her voice as she stared up at him.

He'd only smiled at her in response, genuinely amused. Then he had kissed her again and she had thrown her arms around his neck as he easily lifted her off the table. Food forgotten, he had made his way with her to the bedroom that she had now come to think of as hers.

She sank to her knees as soon as he set her down. He hadn't needed to tell her ... it was simply time. She met his eyes boldly as she patiently waited for him to sit on the bed in front of her before she moved forward to take him into her mouth. She heard him gasp, tasting herself on his cock, enjoying his suddenly harsh breathing, the hand that was suddenly on her head, fingers tangling themselves in her hair, feeling powerful as she took control.

She took her time, carefully cleaning him up with mouth and tongue. She sucked hard to get the last of his cum, savoring the taste of him as he grunted out loud. She quivered in response as she felt him start to harden again, lubrication flowing out of her as her pussy came alive with heat. She let out a tiny moan as one hand went between her legs as she laved her tongue over his scrotum, shuddering as she explored herself, feeling her own wetness coating her fingers as they played over the engorged nub of her clit.

That was when her phone, face down on the bedside table, rang, the familiar ring tone for a moment startling her to stillness.

'Sarah,' she thought.

Completely nude, her own fingers between her legs, cum lying in messy streaks over her belly, and on her knees with her lips wrapped around a virtual stranger's penis, Sarah Fernandez certainly would not have recognized this Honor Banet as her sensible, decent, disciplined, prim and proper best friend. The thought gave her a moment of pause, her mind instantly replaying the bizarre turn of events that had completely turned her life upside down in less than 24 hours - from the moment she had seen David and Jillian on the dance floor to the moment she had first allowed Marq Haydn into her body.

For some reason, she realized that she was less mortified than ... curious, at what Sarah would say if she could see her, deep in the throes of sexual abandon and debauchery, fucking and being fucked repeatedly by some random man she'd met by chance in a taxi halfway across the world. The image of Sarah swooning to the floor came to her mind and she found herself smiling as she trailed her tongue up the underside of Marq Haydn's now rapidly swelling member.

The phone stopped ringing, deliberately ignored, its owner returning her concentration back to the man she was pleasuring.

For a long moment, the only sounds were his harsh pleasured breathing and her own tiny moans of enjoyment as she plunged her fingers into herself in time with her lips and tongue's movements on his cock.

The phone started ringing again.

This time, the image that came into her mind was a frantic Sarah calling the Grand Imperial's security office. The thought made her remove her lips from around Marq's now fully erect penis and reach for the phone, the hand that was between her legs leaving her pussy to replace her mouth around his cock, her vaginal fluids mixing with the coating of saliva as her fingers wrapped themselves possessively around him.

Her eyes met his as she brought the phone to her ear, and it occurred to her that this was probably the most wicked thing she'd ever done as she pressed the answer key, long familiarity making looking at the screen unnecessary. "Hello?"

The voice that answered her almost made her gasp out loud. "Hi, baby."

"Uh ... hi," she responded, simultaneously realizing she could do two things at once—anyone who knew sensible, disciplined Honor Banet knew she was an accomplished multitasker.

"Missing you over here," her fiancee said. "What are you doing?"

'Sucking another man's dick ...' she answered inwardly. She stopped trailing her tongue over Marq's balls to outwardly answer, "You know me ... Working on something."

She heard his exasperated sigh as she took Marq into her mouth again, "Another recipe?"

She sucked for a second more before she answered. "Yes." She quickly licked out, catching the small drop of pre-cum on her tongue before she added a question. "Where are you?"

"Bangkok."

That made her pause, Marq's cock in her mouth - her fiancee was literally across the street. "That's nice," she said, her hand taking over again.

"Only thing wrong with it is that you're not here with me."

She decided to finish attending to the new gush of pre-cum coming out of Marq's cock before answering, quite untruthfully. "I wish I was there with you too."

Marq's hand suddenly was back on her head, fingers in her hair. She looked up at him, the way his penis was jerking in her hand, another gushing of pre-cum leaving his body, and she abruptly realized that she needed to concentrate on what was more important, and it wasn't David Brenner.

"David?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Can I call you back later?"

Another gush came, and she couldn't just use her hand to deal with it.

"Is everything okay?"

She finished lapping up the liquid and sucking out any still left from where it came from before she answered, quite truthfully. "I just need to pay attention to what I'm doing."

She heard him chuckle. "You're in the kitchen, right? Trying to mix a dessert from Sumatra with something from Belarus?"

She was using her tongue to clean up a trail of liquid she'd apparently missed, but she was able to come up with an answer, "It's from Switzerland, actually ..."

She heard him chuckle again. "Okay. We can talk later. Don't burn the apartment down."

Honor was almost offended at that—she 'never' burned anything.

Then Marq jerked in her hand again, and this time, seeing the amount of liquid she had to clean up, she knew she really had to go. "David, I really need to go."

"Okay. Miss you."

The lie came quickly. "Miss you too. Bye."

Honor pressed the end call icon, laid the phone back on the bedside table, and promptly swallowed Marq's cock back into her mouth. He made a loud rasping noise, his fingers getting more entangled in her hair as she resumed her lips' slow slide up and down his member, swallowing his liquid, until the telltale shuddering of his body told her all she needed to know.

The sheer wickedness of the fact that she had just had a phone conversation with her fiancee while fellating and masturbating another man was not lost on her.

Not to mention the fact that she had loved every wicked moment of it.

She moaned as she reached between her legs and began to touch herself, exploring herself more insistently, and within moments she heard him cry out, feeling him go stiff under her. She moaned again, plunging her fingers inside herself as she locked her lips around him, David Brenner, her fiancee, forgotten as she hungrily sucked and swallowed another man's semen.