Chapter 15: A Blackmailer Confronted; Loving Friends and Detectives

By the time I called room service for lunch, four nearly nude women sat engaged in various activities in the living of our suite at the Hotel George V in Paris: Crystal was reading a script she'd been asked to consider for our next movie, if she liked it then I'd read it next; Jill had started to read a Clive Cussler book on her iPad; Helen sat near a corner of the room practicing various yoga positions au naturel; and Margo, naked except for her thong, alternately worked on her computer or talked for long periods of time on the telephone. I noted that Margo had become increasingly less self-conscious about her near nudity as the day went on.

When the young man from room service wheeled in the cart with our various orders, I thought his eye teeth would drop from his head. The women only glanced up nonchalantly and nodded at the twenty-something, as though their states of dress were normal ... and I knew it actually did lean more in that direction than fully clothed. I had dressed in casual clothes since Henri, Terry, and I had decided to take a walk up and down the Champs Élysées after lunch. While we walked, I picked up a pair of shoes at a nearby shop that Margo had ordered online to wear that night.

George Rinard, the last person staying in our suite, remained totally spent from the encounters of the night before. He slept in a stupor as his body tried to restore itself. Crystal checked on him periodically, even offering a wake up blowjob. He'd groaned and pushed her away. When Crystal came out of his bedroom, she winked and said, "He's still not ready to play. We'll finish the job we started on him tonight." Crystal and Helen had a good laugh. Poor George.

Margo asked what was going on, and so Crystal explained to her about George's willingness to pursue pretty women, but his lack of sexual stamina – a case of a willing mind and weak body. Margo chuckled, particularly when Crystal shared some of the details about how she'd earlier worn him down – just for fun – during the making of her movie The Naked Truth. Crystal was amazingly graphic in her descriptions, a point that obviously turned on Margo. That movie was the reason we continued to hang around Paris. The national premiere of the movie she and George had made was that evening, with an accompanying party after the film.

We each pursued our own interests in the afternoon. I bought some souvenirs for Anna and Lauren, my sister and sister-in-law, and shipped them with the help of the merchant. I picked up Margo's sexy shoes. Henri, Terry, and I walked several miles and did part of the Louvre, including a special exhibition of Matisse.

When the three of us got back, we had to readjust to the friendly surroundings. We resisted the urge to pursue every woman in the suite, although I assured Henri and Terry the advances would be more than welcome.

Instead, Crystal, Terry, and I sat and blocked out the next two years – two concert tours in the States plus another in Europe, a trip to Australia and New Zealand, and two major movies. Of course, many other people needed to be in on such decisions, but we had a starting position. Terry and I were totally distracted by Crystal's nudity, a point she took obvious delight in by shimmying and shaking her breasts so they rippled under our noses.

While we were talking about movies, Jill overheard us and looked up from her reading. "I volunteer to co-star with you both; it'd be so much fun. We could make movies all day and fuck all night." The way she said it made us all laugh, but we also knew she was serious.

Margo announced about four o'clock that her minions had found and interviewed an important person; namely, the young man at Wembley Stadium who had delivered the envelope to me that had the blackmail note in it. They'd found him working another concert, and he did remember delivering the envelope to me because I was the first star he'd ever met face to face. He recalled that it had been a young woman who asked for him to do the delivery, paying him fifty quid to do so. All he could recall of the girl was she had dark hair, a body to die for, and a pleasant face. When the detective had shown him photos of our possible suspects he couldn't say yes or no; he just didn't remember the face because he'd been so focused on her body. We might have decisively eliminated the guy going to Cambridge, but both girls we were considering had dark hair.

Margo happily reported she also had addresses for both girls: one lived in St. Johns Wood and the other in the Swiss Cottage section of London. Margo explained that the two were not too far apart northwest of downtown, although on different tube lines.

We talked about various courses of action to take. I didn't like any of the options, but time seemed to be ticking away; I had eight more days before the deadline set in the blackmail letter to get five million dollars into some mysterious Swiss bank account.

The approach with the most potential involved Margo and my ringing the doorbell of each girl, confronting them, and seeing how they reacted to my presence. Margo and I thought it was a long shot since the situation counted on the element of surprise on our part and the lack of acting ability on their part. I had to finish in Paris that evening with Crystal, and then we were going to Rome for a concert in two days followed by two nights with our movie premieres.

I told Margo, "I can summon up a private jet. We could get up to London and back in a day or so. Are we certain the girls are both there? Oh, and if they do know each other, what's to prevent the first girl we visit from calling the second after we leave? We'd lose the element of surprise."

"Do it," Margo implored. "I'll handle the logistics with the girls so we keep the element of surprise." Talking to Margo was also a distraction. I really wanted to suck on her breasts.

Fifteen minutes later I'd arranged for a Cessna Citation to fly us from Orly airfield outside Paris to Luton airport outside and north of London. The latter airfield would be close to our destination addresses and keep us out of busy Heathrow Airport airspace. We'd leave the first thing the next morning, provided we got verification that both girls were near home.

Margo made some calls to get confirmation, and an hour later she got two texts informing her that both girls were at home and studying for classes the next day. I didn't ask how her contacts had such specific information; I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

About five o'clock, the women started to get ready to go the premiere of the movie The Naked Truth starring Crystal Lee and George Rinard. A hairdresser, manicurist, and makeup artist arrived, set up shop in our bedroom, and worked over the tresses, nails, and faces of Crystal, Jill, Helen, and Margo. Margo told us she felt like a princess, and Crystal and Jill looked so pleased that they could give the pretty detective an experience she'd never had before. At seven o'clock, the four women spun into the living room looking chic and darling in their expensive dresses.

Margo's dress proved to be as revealing as I hoped it would be. I could tell we were stretching the bounds of propriety for her, and I decided to stretch them a bit further.

I went over and held Margo at arms length and then kissed her passionately. We ended, and she looked me in the eyes trying to read my mind again. I said, "Margo, I want you to do something for me tonight that I bet you've never done – it's sort of sexual?"

"What's that?" Margo asked, with a sudden exhilaration in her voice.

"I want you to remove your thong. Don't wear any underwear with that dress. It shows slightly and for some will ruin the effect you hope to create, but for me and the other men we will know just how sexy you are." I held out my hand and waited.

Margo studied me to see how serious I was, and then she reached under the outrageously expensive dress and pulled her thong down to her feet and stepped out of it. She put the tiny lacy garment in my hand. I held the scrap of material to my nose and inhaled her essence. I whispered, "Delightful. Thank you." She grinned shamelessly at me and patted the dress back in place.

Margo turned and studied herself in a floor to ceiling mirror in the foyer of the suite. She turned to me and pleaded, "Jim, people can see my pubic hair; it's a dark shadow right where people will look."

I moved and kissed her neck in what I knew would be an erogenous zone and slowly said, "I know. I think it's sexy."

Crystal went up to Margo and kissed her. "If its any consolation to you, I'm naked under this dress too."

Jill acknowledged her lack of underwear by pulling part of her dress down to expose her right breast, and then hoisting her skirt up to display her shaved pubes.

Helen had changed in our room too. She said, "Well, I'm not going to be the only one wearing underwear. She shimmied out of the top of her chiffon dress until she was bare from the waist up except for her brassiere. She undid her lacy bra and tossed it onto an end table. After that, she got back into the top of her dress and then duplicated Margo's move to lose her bikini briefs. They joined the pile of frilly underwear on the end table.

Helen said, "Well, now, what about it guys? Can we get you to go commando too? After all fair is fair."

I nodded and declared I already had dressed accordingly. Terry told us he had too. George shrugged his shoulders as his way of saying aright; he went into one of the bedrooms, came out a couple of minutes later, and declared he was ready for inspection. Crystal said with a smirk, "Commando check." She came over to me and unzipped my pants, reached in, and fondled my tumescent cock. Naturally, I reacted right away to her touching.

Jill had been standing close to George, so she turned and unzipped his pants and repeated the gesture. George groaned and asked her not to start anything, just yet. He looked worried.

I motioned for Margo to check Terry. Helen saw my nod, and moved to give Margo open access to her colleague. Margo blushed but played along since we were all laughing. She unzipped Terry and made a big do of fishing around in his pants. Terry's eyes got all glassy as she fondled his flaccid cock and balls. Finally, she said, "Yes, no underwear in there. Just a large cricket bat and two balls. Maybe we can play later." She pulled her hand out and zipped him up being careful not to hurt any delicate parts or catch any of his pubic hair.

Margo again looked in the large mirror and repeated her concern, "My God, I can really see my tits and my pubic hair. I can't go like this. I'll just die of embarrassment." I noted she was already a scarlet color from her chest up just contemplating the situation.

The hairdresser, Simone, had been packing up her kit from having worked on the women's hair. She'd overheard the conversation, and watched with laughter as the girls checked the guys for commando status. She spoke up, "I can fix that if you want. I can trim you down to bare or just a little landing strip that won't show through your dress."

Margo looked at her, and said, "Could you? I'd be so grateful. It won't embarrass you to do me?"

Simone said, "Not a bit. I do it all the time."

I said in a hopeful tone, "Margo why don't you hike up your dress and sit on the barstool over there. I'd like to watch you being trimmed."

Crystal and Jill both agreed with lecherous grins on their faces. Crystal said to me, "You just want to study a new pussy in hopes of getting some nookie later. You're incorrigible."

Margo made a big sigh and sat on the stool after pulling up the dress all around her and holding it in her hands so it was out of Simone's way. Her pink cleft was entirely exposed to all of us. I think a woman's labia and vagina are the most beautiful pieces of equipment God created. I marveled at how pretty Margo was in the space few ever got to see.

Simone spread a sheet on the floor to catch the clippings, plugged in a hair clipper she'd had in her bag, and in thirty seconds the dark bush of Margo's pubes had all but vanished; only a thin line of hair remained leading someone lost right to the promised land. Simone quickly brushed away the clippings from Margo's body and legs.

A minute later, Lauren spread some shaving cream on the area, produced a safety razor, and eliminated the remaining stubble. After a trip to the bathroom, she wiped Margo down with a warm wet towel. Margo sighed and by my guess was right on the edge.

Simone turned to me and asked with a snort and lewd grin, "Do you think she is acceptable, Monsieur?"

I walked over to where the two women stood and ran my hand over Margo's mons. She threw her head back and started to pant because I kept smoothing the area, occasionally letting an errant finger slip down to her clit. She muttered, "Oh, fuck."

I nodded with a grin at Simone. "Oh, yes. Excellent job. Let's see how she looks in the dress now."

I pulled Margo to a stand in front of me and kissed her very tenderly. I whispered to her, "You are good sport to humor us all like that. I promise you'll get some satisfaction later."

Margo kissed back and said in a sexy tone, "You are mean ... really mean ... and I hope you intend to fix all these crazy emotions you've stirred up in me. I wish you could do it now, but I know we have to go." She looked into my eyes with such a hungry expresssion.

I kissed her again, and we smoothed down the dress. I stood behind Margo as she again looked in the large mirror. This time all one could see was the dress and the illusion of skin behind it. The obvious dark shadow of pubic hair was gone, but with a little imagination one could still make out her areolas.

We were in the limousine in front of the hotel at seven-twenty, and exiting the limo onto the red carpet only a few blocks away exactly at seven-thirty, on schedule. As at most of our stops, a thousand flash cameras captured our arrival, our poses with each other in various combinations on the carpet, and then our appearances with various interviewers from entertainment reporting shows on television for the various European networks.

Terry, Helen, Margo, and Henri hovered in the background making sure we were staying on schedule. Despite their distance from us, they too were subjected to hundreds of flash photos taken of them. Margo was particularly enchanted by the activity.

We were to be in our seats for the showing exactly at seven-fifty-five. The movie got introduced, along with Crystal and George, exactly at eight o'clock. The two stood to a thunderous round of applause. Things went off on schedule.

I fell asleep shortly after the movie started; this would have been my eighth time seeing the film had I stayed awake. The next I knew Crystal dug a finger into my ribs; she whispered, "Wake up. The film ends in two minutes." I jerked awake and pretended to be alert and attentive as I got my mind back into the evening's events. I looked past Crystal into the seats and saw that Jill had also roused a sleeping George. On screen, Crystal and George were having their 'and-they-lived-happily-ever-after' kiss before they turned and walked up a rain swept country lane somewhere in the Loire valley with a chateau in the background. The end. Movie over. The crowd applauded wildly, partly because a lot of the movie had been shot in Paris.

After being reintroduced by the emcee, Crystal and George both stood, said a few words into a wireless microphone to the delight of the audience, and then we headed off with the other three-hundred attendees to a lavish cocktail party hosted by Sony. Not speaking French, I lost about seven-eights of the conversations around me. People were polite, particular the beautiful French women who wanted to meet me and have me kiss both of their cheeks. Some were dressed more provocatively than any of my crowd, even including Margo who had become an instant hit with a half-dozen Frenchmen whose tongues seemed to be lolling out of the sides of their mouths.

Being a man that thinks about sex every few seconds, I found it hard not to assess each of the beautiful women as a bedtime partner. One small women made sure I was standing over her and looking down when she purposefully pulled the front of her dress away from her body so I could see her exposed breasts. Anyone not immediately nearby would just have thought she was making a minor adjustment to the fold in her top. She smiled coyly at me. I laughed and spoke one of the few French phrases I knew: "Merci, Mademoiselle." I further thanked her in English for our conversation and for allowing me to see so much of her at this busy event. She laughed and walked away happy after I bestowed a serious kiss on her lips. I had a noticeable lump in my pants, and being commando there was less fabric to hide my predicament.

Crystal rescued me – sort of. She saw the encounter, and came up to me a second later before anyone else could collar me. "Did that pretty mademoiselle show you her pretty boobs? Did it make Little Jimmy all hard and interested? Well, I have a solution; let's go back to the hotel and screw around." She leaned up and kissed me, and not just a peck on the cheek but one of her mindblowing volcanic kisses that portend an interesting evening. Someone took a picture just at that instant, which would have been fine except I think the lump showed.

Terry herded us all back to the limousine well before the party ended. His theory was that we wanted to be almost the first ones to leave; this would allow the remaining crowd to relax or leave as they saw fit, without thinking they had to hang around because we were still there. The petite mademoiselle who displayed her wares to me gave me subtle little wave goodbye.

The eight of us arrived back at the hotel a little before eleven o'clock with a flourish of laughter as we walked through the lobby of the Hotel George V. We'd just started to settle into the suite, when Margo came up to Crystal and me. In a voice that feigned innocence, Margo said in a tone tinged with seduction, "Oh, dear. I forgot that I have nowhere to stay in this city. What ever shall I do?" She looked at the two of us as a little smile formed on her lips. I liked the way this girl thought.

Crystal said to her in a cute and obviously aroused tone, "Well, you must change out of that pretty dress. I think I'll wear that in Rome in two or three days. Why don't you come with me; Jim, we might need your help to figure out what to do with Margo tonight."

We walked into our bedroom, and Margo stood still for us in the middle of the room. The door remained open as an eventual invitation to the others to join us. Crystal slowly and carefully undid the ties and subtle drapes of fabric from Margo's body. I stood in front of her and helped, again using one finger to trace random designs across and around her breasts and flat tummy. In seconds, she stood nude except for her sexy high heels – shoes that accented the curves and muscles in her legs.

Crystal turned to me, "Why, Jim, you know you can't wear a tuxedo all night. Let's get you out of that suit and hang it up so it'll look fresh and new the next time you wear it." With that, Crystal helped me undress, pulling the shirt from my body, tossing my trademark western boots and socks to a corner, and lastly removing my pants. Now, I stood naked only a few feet from Margo's statuesque body with my hard-on rising rapidly from a seven to an eight to a nine and finally a ten, as I looked at Beautiful Margo.

Crystal grabbed a hold of my shaft and pumped me a few times. "I think someone should clean this lovely display of manhood," she turned to Margo; "don't you? Why don't you do the honors while I undress."

Margo nodded and sank to her knees in front of me. Margo's mouth opened, and one hand sought out my shaft and steered my dick to her lips. She had a hidden talent; I slipped right into her mouth and throat until I was buried to the limit in one smooth move. What turned out to be unique, was that she started to vibrate her vocal cords, hum, swallow, twist, and turn, and flex her neck muscles, thereby creating a whole new array of excitement for me as my cock felt her impulses ripple around it from all directions.

I started to pant in seconds. I opined in an amazed voice, "Where did you learn to do that? It's fabulous. You must teach Crystal." Crystal's ears perked up at her name.

Margo pulled away from me, "We British aren't as stuffy as you might think. We have our ways and games too, although I have to admit I thought these little secrets up myself to pleasure an ex-boyfriend a couple of years ago."

Crystal had stripped her clothes off, carefully hanging her dress and Margo's back in the closet. She came over and studied Margo's masterful blowjob. Margo grabbed Crystal's hand and held it to her neck so Crystal could feel the internal motions and sounds Margo made around my cock.

After a bit, I feared Margo's mouth and throat were getting tired, so I pulled away from her. "Let me pleasure you for a change." I nudged the kneeling girl to the edge of the bed.

Margo lay back and hung her pussy over the edge of the mattress, right into my mouth as I knelt in front of her on the plush oriental rug. I licked all around her legs and lower abdomen, allowing a wet track of my saliva to remain behind. I blew on the dampness and then on the obviously swollen wet lips guarding her jeweled opening. Margo was wet and had probably been wet all day and positively soaking at the cocktail party. The aroma of her sexual ardor was intoxicating and irresistible. No wonder she'd had a bevy of Frenchmen following her around at the party.

I swept in with my tongue and ran it up and down her slit, trying to drive my tongue as deep as I could into her sweet body. I bit at her with my teeth and sucked erotic parts of her femininity. I found her nubbin, already aroused and visible from within its delicate hood of soft skin. I lightly bit and sucked around that area as Margo writhed and squirmed on the bed.

Crystal sucked on one of Margo's breasts as her hands fondled and teased the other. Margo started to gush fluid from various sexual pores in her nether region. I slid two fingers into her tight quim. I teased her ass with another, all the while my tongue lapped or my lips sucked on her womanness.

Margo started to mutter about sexual things, gutter things, bad words, dirty words that all encouraged us to continue. "I'm building ... oh, fuck ... I'm cuming again ... oh, this will be a big one. Do my clit – just like THAT! OH, FUCK." Margo's body shook as though a Richter Eight earthquake had hit the hotel. Her legs clamped around my head, and she held my lips in place against her pussy. When she finally relaxed a little, I had to gasp for air.

Margo looked down her body at me. "Come up on the bed, please; make love to me. Fuck me. Both of you!"

Crystal kissed me and then gestured with her hands for me to do Margo. She then sashayed out the open bedroom door to the living room adding a little extra waggle to her beautiful naked hips.

As soon as I lay beside her, Margo grabbed my cock, slid her hand up and down my shaft a few times, and moved so my shaft aimed directly at her inviting pinkness. I slid into her body in one long, slow thrust, as our eyes locked on each other communicating not only our desire for this, but also our deep affection for each other. As our pubic bones met, her eyes rolled into her head in pleasure. A long, low wail of joy erupted from deep within her.

We moved together for a long time, changing positions but never breaking the link we'd created in our initial coupling. We talked dirty to each other, imploring each other to wanton deeds that would involve the other. Margo had me describe some of the lurid details of the Oklahoma orgy to her, and that set her off into another series of orgasms so close together she couldn't possibly have basked in the afterglow of one before the next one hit.

After forty-five minutes of our raw sex, Margo asked in a meek voice, "Don't you ever cum? I want you to feel an orgasm too. I stopped counting, but I'm way over ten ... maybe way over twenty. I've never been pleasured like this before in my life. You are a sex god, and I love you."

I smiled up at her, "I control myself. I get a huge pleasure from your pleasure and orgasms. Although I recover quickly, I don't want to stop what we're doing unless you want me to."

Margo leaned down from her cowgirl position and kissed me hard; she brought each of her savory breasts to my lips to suckle. After a minute or two she said, "I want you to cum deep inside me when I have my next orgasm."

I did only seconds later as I felt Margo reaching another crest. I allowed the explosion I had been holding at bay for not only the minutes we'd been coupled, but also had been holding since we started the foreplay earlier in the day with the likelihood that we would couple that evening. I filled Margo's cunt with my juices as my dick remained buried deep in her trim body. The excess oozed out around the sides of my cock as I made my last thrusts of delivery into her. As I quivered below her, Margo closed her eyes and savored her own climax and the pulses of my orgasm deep into her body.

She lay on my chest giving me little kisses and saying very romantic things. I held Margo in my arms for a long time. From the living room, we could hear Jill urging someone to fuck her harder and faster. Been there, done that.

Eventually, I said, "Come, let's see what the others are doing. Maybe you'll find something else to your liking."

Margo rolled to the side; "If we disconnect and I stand, I'll be really drippy wherever I walk."

I stretched across the bed while maintaining myself as her cork, and gave her a few tissues from the bedside box so she could blot some of the mess I'd left. I thought her quim would be extremely sexy with my white juices seeping from her pussy.

From the bedroom door, a female voice said, "Stop! Don't use those tissues."

A nude Jill sauntered into the room, and lay down next to me. She commanded, "Margo, lift off of Jim and then put your pussy over my mouth. I'LL be the one that cleans you up, not some wasteful wodge of tissues."

Margo looked to me for verification of the lewd act that she was just asked perform by a famous movie star. I nodded, so she lifted off of me and quickly shifted over onto Jill in a way that put her pussy right above Jill's mouth. I could see Jill's tongue lash out, but gravity had already started to do its job. Margo grabbed hold of my erection next to her and held on as Jill ate her and sucked on her from below. I could feel Margo spasm a couple of more times. The sounds she made surely announced to the others in the living room exactly what transpired. Margo leaned over and sucked my cock again until I was clean and had started my recovery.

Jill eventually said, "Margo, now you do me. I have some cum for you too."

"Whose is it?"

"I'll tell you later. Now get to work. Detect something, Detective! Did you know that in the States we call detectives 'dicks.'" Jill laughed at her lewd humor.

The two women swapped places: Margo lying on her back, as Jill's pussy dripped the man-juice it held within on and into Margo's mouth. Margo hummed in pleasure at the delicious and salty taste after a few minutes. Jill had also grabbed hold of me; I fondled and twisted her nipples in a way she'd taught me that brought her pleasure. We kissed as Jill popped off a couple of small orgasms. Jill was one of the most orgasmic women I knew.

After a bit, Jill just rolled from Margo. Margo's tongue had been in mid-swipe.

Jill spoke, "You, my dear, have a really special tongue and technique. You can do me any time."

Margo laughed, "Thank you, now tell me whose cum I just ate."

Jill laughed, "It's a combo deal. I was playing cum bucket in the other room. It was cum from the three guys in there: Terry, Henri, and George. Are you suitably grossed out by that?"

Margo said, "Yes. Now, I suppose I'll have to go fuck each of them since I already have their cum in my belly." She looked at me and laughed.

I ventured, "Now, I'm the one that's grossed out ... but only a little."

Margo headed into the living room with a wiggle of her hips and a saucy look on her face. I found myself pleased with how well she fit in with our horny crowd.

A limousine whisked us south out of downtown Paris to Orly Field, the airport that Charles Lindbergh had landed at after his record-breaking thirty-three hour solo flight across the Atlantic in 1927. At the time, it was little more than a cow pasture; today it proved to be bustling international airport. We checked in at the general aviation terminal, found our pilots, and were airborne twenty minutes later heading to Luton, England – just north of London.

Margo held my hand through the takeoff and climb, not because she was scared of flying, but because, as she told me, she still enjoyed little orgasmic quakes from our session the night before. I chided her because she'd been sexually active in the living room as well after we finished, probably having another two dozen orgasms, before she found me so we could cap off the evening together.