Chapter 29: Movie Premiere and After-Party

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 read a script she’d been asked to consider for her next movie; Jill had started to read a book on her iPad; Helen, Jill’s agent was completely nude and practicing various yoga positions in a corner of the living room; and Margo, naked except for her thong, the European extension of my private detective in the States alternately worked on her computer or talked in hushed tones for long periods of time on the telephone.

Margo had joined us to stay close and to help resolve the blackmail threat leveled at me during a country music concert Crystal and I gave just outside London. A note had been handed to me threatening a revelation that I had slept with an underage girl at an orgy in Oklahoma that I got involved in during my road trip. So far, she’d told me she had three suspects and many unanswered questions.

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 remained in casual clothes since Henri, Terry, and I had decided to take a walk up and down the Champs des Elysees right after lunch. While we walked, I’d promised to pick up a pair of shoes at a nearby shop that Margo had ordered online.

George Rinard, the last person staying in our suite, remained totally spent from the sexual 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.

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 turned on Margo. That movie was the reason we continued to hang around Paris. The French 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 by Matisse.

Margo and the others had remained nude or nearly so for the remainder of the day. When the three of us got back, we had to readjust to the ‘friendly’ surroundings. We resisted the urge to fuck every woman in the suite, although I assured Henri and Terry the advances would be more than welcome.

Instead, a very naked Crystal, Terry, and I sat and planned out the next two years – two concert tours in the States plus another in Europe, a trip to Australia and New Zealand, and two movies. Of course, many other people needed to be ‘in’ on such decisions, but we had a starting position. Terry and I were frantically distracted by Crystal’s nudity, and we both ended our small conference with large lumps in our pants.

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. 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. He also recalled that it had been a young woman who asked for him to do the deed, 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 ‘possibles’ 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 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.

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 in Italy.

I told Margo, “I can summon up a private jet. We could get up 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, since her shapely nude body also inspired a continuing hard on.

Fifteen minutes later I’d arranged for a rented Learjet 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 were at home and studying for classes the next day. I didn’t ask how her contacts had such specific information.

About six 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 and makeup artist arrived, set up shop in our bedroom, and worked over the tresses and faces of Crystal, Jill, Helen, and Margo. Margo told us she felt like a princess. 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 knickers. 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.”

Margo studied me to see how serious I was, and then she reached under the dress and pulled her thong down to her feet and stepped out of it. I held my hand out, and she put the tiny 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, especially on her shapely ass.

Margo turned and studied herself in a floor to ceiling mirror in the foyer of the suite. She turned to me, “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.”

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 ‘all right;’ 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 ‘serious’ just yet.

I motioned for Margo to check Terry. Helen saw my nod, and moved to give Margo open access to her colleague. Margo blushed but 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. 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.

We were in the limousine in front of the hotel at seven-twenty, and exiting the limo onto the red carpet 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. 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; “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. The end. Movie over. The crowd applauded wildly, partly because most of the movie had been shot in or near 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.