Allison shook the sexual cobwebs from her head and reread the telegram as she made her way back into the bedroom.
"Well… uh… I guess I'll be movin' along."
"Huh?" She looked up. He was fully dressed. She had forgotten he was there.
"I gotta be leavin', I guess," he said.
"Oh… yeah, sure. You can find the door, can't you, Fred?"
"Yeah," he said, between clenched teeth. "And the name is Louie."
"Yeah… sure," she said, sitting an the bed, raptly reading the telegram again.
She never even heard him close the door behind him.
CHAPTER TWO
The airport was jammed. Gray Hendricks moved his huge, athletic body lithely through the crowd towards the VIP lounge. He had no idea what the Countess LeBarron looked like, but if she was anything like his employees usual guests, she was short, fat and ugly. Just once he would like to see a guest of the Boyles, particularly female, under fifty.
He entered the lounge and stood by the door. With his obvious chauffeur's uniform, and the Boyle crest on his cap, he was sure her highness, or whatever she was, would find him. Several women passed him with several kinds of looks. Some glanced at the uniform and dismissed him as part of the furniture. Gray didn't mind, he was used to that. Being a driver for rich old couples in the summer gave him money to ski all winter. And that's all he really wanted out of life anyway – himself and snow. Anything below five thousand feet was shit.
A trim little brunette, about twenty, with heavy swaying tits, walked by where he stood and paused for a moment. She looked put the uniform to the wide, heavily developed shoulders, trim waist and hips, and the almost perfect features topped with a full head of curly blond hair.
She obviously liked what she saw.
She smiled. Gray smiled back and started to speak when a voice at his shoulder halted him.
"Hendricks?"
He turned as the brunette's smile went sour. He only heard the click of her heels as she walked away. His eyes were very occupied with the woman in front of him. She was excitingly beautiful, with aquiline features, jet-black hair, and a well-developed and proportioned figure on a frame only a few inches shorter than his own six feet. Gray guessed her age at about thirty, but was sure that she could pass for early twenties if she were in soft light and totally nude.
"Yes, ma'am. Are you…?"
"The Countess Donea LeBarron. You seemed surprised, or does your mouth always hang open like that?"
"No, ma'am," he said, regaining all of his composure at once and smiling. "I was just expecting someone a great deal older."
"I suppose that's a compliment," she said, turning away from him. "I have only one bag… there. Shall we go?"
He guided her to the exit and held the door. His heart jumped a few quick beats when they stepped into the bright sunlight of the vast parking lot. It was very obvious that the Countess was not wearing a slip. He could clearly see the outlines of her trim, full thighs through the thin material of her dress. As they walked and his eyes became more adjusted to the light, he also noticed that the dress molded too perfectly to her rounded butt-cheeks and the cleft between them. He realized that the Countess wore no underwear at all.
She took his arm in hers and again his breath caught in his throat. The side of a huge, firm tit, unhindered by a bra, rubbed like a soft flame against his bicep. As she adjusted the shoulder bag on her other side, the tit did wild, crazy things up and down his arm. He was glad the coat he wore was longer than normal in the front. His cock was rock-hard.
"I'll sit in front with you," she said, as he unlocked the big luxury car.
Gray handed her into the front seat on the passenger side. He thought her actions very strange and familiar for a Countess, but he enjoyed the view of the long, tapering bare legs as she allowed her skirt to carelessly ride up when she slid into the seat.
"It's a big car," she said.
"Mrs. Boyle likes a lot of comfort," Gray said. He almost added, "when she fucks her chauffeur in the woods," but he didn't.
He deposited the single flight bag in the boot and eased his tall frame under the wheel on the driver's side. As he started the engine, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was leaning back in the seat, her head resting tilted back, against the support.
His eyes floated downward over the smooth swell of her tits as the powerful motor roared into life. The calves of her legs were drawn back against the seat and her knees had slumped apart. The hem of her dress had ridden far up those sleek thighs. It rested only inches from her cunt-mound.
She didn't seem to notice or care. Gray knew if he leaned just a little forward, he could see it all.
The hell with it, he thought. The snow was only a couple of months away. It wasn't worth the risk.
Carefully, he wheeled the big car through the parking lot and into the rush of traffic. Soon they were on the main highway heading towards the distant mountains and the Boyle estate.
The Countess was silent for several miles, and Gray thought that she had fallen asleep. His mind had adjusted to the wealth of bare flesh being exposed beside him to such a degree that the bulge in his pants had almost disappeared.
When he swung off the main highway into a smaller road that wound for miles up into the hills, she spoke. "Is there anyplace we could stop for a drink? I'd love one."
"There's a pull-out bar in the back of the front seat," he replied. "The glasses are under the armrest. I'll pull over up ahead."
"Never mind," she said. "Keep driving. I'll get it myself."
She swiveled in the seat and slid up on her knees. As she strained her body into the back seat, he leaned back and turned his head slightly to take in the view. The farther she strained, the higher went her skirt. He had been wrong. She did have panties on, but they were so minuscule that he could clearly see the dark outline of her beaver and the even crease of her ass through the flimsy material.
His cock leaped to attention once again. He turned his head a little more. A tiny bit of material had gathered in the slot between her cuntlips and some of her dark hair had crawled outside the crotchband of the white panties. Her buttcheeks were twin globes of firm flesh that folded under in matching lines that formed a cross with the back of her thighs. At the center of the cross was the dark patch of her cunt.
He yearned to lean over and slide his tongue between her cheeks.
"Do you want one?" she asked.
"What? Oh, no, thank you," he replied, shifting his eyes back to the road as she turned back around.
This time she didn't face completely forward in the seat. She was leaning her back against the passenger door.
Her left foot was planted in the seat, her right still rested on the floor. Her knees were splayed apart and he could see up those smooth thighs to the rich roundness of her crotch. Tendrils of curly black cunt hair escaped around the leg hems of her silk undies. The thick labes were fully defined. Every curve was etched clearly into the double ply of panties.
He bit his lip as he let his eyes travel sideways and down to the exposed area of her cunt. He could see her muscles twitching up and down the smooth inner flesh of her thighs. He was sure he could make out the pink flesh of her slit through the stretched material of her panties.
Tiny beads of sweat popped out on his forehead as his eyes traveled up to meet hers. Her dark eyes were flashing merrily. She was laughing at him.
Jesus, he thought, did she want him to lay her? Or was this some kind of silly, fucking game she liked to play?
"Sure you don't want to have a drink with me, Hendricks?"