Chapter 7

ALDO EASED HIMSELF OUT of the bed as Marco slept quietly. Donning a silk bathrobe he slipped out of the bedroom and descended the curving staircase. Entering the study he found the prepaid cell phone in the desk drawer. From memory he dialled.

"So, what have you found?" he asked as soon as the call was answered. He listened. He knew it! He'd been right. A Bianca Russo had passed border control into France from Spain in the company of a Mr. Julian Blackmore.

It had taken too long to find the small border crossing and to bribe one of the guards. Blackmore had almost two weeks on him. But Aldo knew. He was convinced Blackmore would head home if only to get supplies and money. His trail would start there.

Checking his watch, Aldo reached a decision. He could get to Nice, France by plane and be there late morning. That would give him time to develop a plan, kill both the girl and Blackmore and leave before nightfall.

Smiling, he decided he'd not tell Marco. It would be a surprise. In fact, he'd take photos on his cell of their dead bodies and present the images to Marco when they went to bed. It would make Marco a very enthusiastic lover.

He pocketed the cell phone and left the study, a smile of satisfaction on his face, his pulse rising. Let's see just how good this Julian Blackmore is.

AS SOON AS CONSCIOUS thought arrived I knew what I was feeling - an exquisite naked ass, two small, firm mounded buttocks forming a sexy crack between. I explored the shape of perfection, my penis waking up and pressing to the bed, growing and lengthening. Her naked buttock filled my hand. It curved down sensuously to meet the top of her thigh. I could picture Bianca's ass, beautiful, narrow, compact, petite.

Tracing my fingertips lightly to the inside of her thigh, I brought them up to slip along her bum crack. Her buttocks clenched suddenly. A soft giggle sounded. Opening my eyes I saw Bianca on her front with her face turned towards me, a smile of amusement, beautiful blue eyes glinting.

I squeezed a lovely buttock. "Morning, Bianca."

"Buongiorno," she replied.

"I like you naked. I love your butt. It could be the best I've ever fondled."

She laughed softly. "It is the best. It's the only one you can remember," she told me flexing her buttocks under my hand.

The sudden intimate comfort between us wasn't questioned. It was just there. It was a new stage to our relationship. It felt natural and good.

Leaning across, I kissed her cheek before rolling out of bed. Despite a rather thick erection I needed to pee.

It took some concentration standing at the toilet, my eyes closed, head tilted back, and my mind trying to picture the Riva thundering across the waves, before I softened enough to pee. My sigh of satisfaction when the stream started echoed in the bathroom. It was joined by a giggle.

A naked Bianca leaned against the door jamb with her arms crossed, marvellous blue eyes watching me pee. "It looks funny," she observed and giggled when, after the stream ebbed into a trickle and stopped, I shook it a few times.

With a smile, I moved to the sink to shave and brush my teeth. Showing our new intimacy, Bianca sat on the toilet.

"Don't watch," she instructed when I looked at her in the mirror.

The hiss of her peeing started and for some very strange reason I became erect again. For some strange reason I imagined seeing her pee and it aroused me. Was that new?

Deciding to dress instead of coercing her back into bed was a difficult decision. However, we had time; lots of time.

"We're going for a drive today," I announced. I wanted to take the Maserati Quattroporte for another run. I'd discovered why I'd bought it. The exhaust sound it made was like rolling thunder even when driving slowly, very gratifying indeed. "We'll go to Monaco."

From the bathroom Bianca suggested a boat ride would be more fun and did I have water-skis? With a shake of my head at her wilfulness, I informed her it was the car or staying at home.

"Okay," she answered.

What did that mean? Yes car? Okay to staying in? "What does okay mean?" I asked.

"Okay means okay," she replied.

Perhaps I was phrasing things the wrong way.

Forty minutes later we were cruising along the coast, the blue Mediterranean on our right, the coast road sinuous, the Maserati emitting a deep, beautiful growl. "We'll eat lunch in Monaco," I announced.

ALDO APPROACHED THE DRIVE to Julian Blackmore's home cautiously. He listened and heard nothing. Emboldened, he walked down the curving drive and studied the large, old looking house with its strange turret. In his jean pocket he touched the folding knife he'd purchased, the weapon that would end Blackmore's and Bianca's lives.

Moving stealthily, he walked around the house finding no signs of life, the house empty. Where were they? Had he guessed wrong? At a side door leading to the kitchen he used his knife to pry the lock open, grunting slightly with effort. The house was silent. It echoed with the unique silence of emptiness. No one there.

Inspecting the kitchen, Aldo smiled. Fresh trash. Milk was new in the refrigerator. They were here just out somewhere. Good. That meant they'll be back. His inspection continued. He noticed with interest that the only used bed was the one in the master bedroom. Was Blackmore sleeping with the girl? Could he use that information to his advantage? Stage their deaths? Checking a dresser drawer he found girl's underwear. Confirmation.

While he pondered the possibilities he searched for stairs to the turret. It must be just for show, he decided, a decoration. There were no stairs leading higher anywhere.

Returning to the ground floor Aldo planned his attack. He needed to take Blackmore out first, take him out fast. Then he could deal with the girl at his leisure. Studying the layout he decided a blitz attack would work. Use the element of surprise and his knife to strike before Blackmore was aware of him. They'd enter through the front door. To the right was the study. It would provide cover for him. They'd pass the doorway probably on their way to the kitchen or to the right to the flight of stairs. Yes. The study was the best option.

Inspecting the study, he was pleased to see a small window overlooking the drive. Perfect. Time to wait. His smile was grim and smug. He was very, very confident in his skills.

BIANCA LEANED FORWARD, ELBOWS on the restaurant table, and stared out over the waterfront. Huge gleaming white super yachts were docked stern in. Some had people sunbathing on their multilevel decks, some had parties in progress, their decks filled with beautiful people. Her eyes were distracted by a speeding boat curving though the sea, behind it a bikini-clad woman cut a sharp wake through the water on one water-ski. "Look," she pointed. "I want to try water-skiing, Julian."

He grunted a non-response. Turning her gaze away from the view she noticed him staring off somewhere. His green eyes still made her look twice every time she saw them. They were so pretty. "Julian?"

"Hmm?"

"Where did you go?"

He smiled. "I was remembering."

"I thought you couldn't remember. Has your memory come back?" Bianca asked with growing excitement.

"No. I was remembering the first time I opened my eyes to see two Egyptian blue eyes staring at me. It's my earliest memory. It's a good memory."

Bianca smiled with pleasure.

"What were you saying?" he asked.

"I was saying I want to try water-skiing."

"We don't have skis. You don't have a bathing suit, either."

"We have a boat. We can buy the other stuff," she offered. When he didn't immediately agree she added, "Please?"

His eyes studied her, looking deeply. A small smile emerged. "Last time you were in that boat you caught a cold, remember?"

"It wasn't the boat ride," Bianca disagreed. "C'mon, let's! It'll be fun."

LOOKING AT BIANCA'S EAGER face, her eyes bright and shining, I almost caved. However, if we were to water-ski we'd need to shop for a bathing suit and I could just see hours of wasted time ahead of me. "No."

"Perché no? It's not like we have other things to do."

"Because it means shopping for a swimming suit," I pointed out. "You're the worst clothes shopper ever."

Bianca flashed me a smile. "I'll be quick."

Laughing at her optimism, I said, "No you won't. You're not capable of being quick when it comes to clothes. It's like asking a basking walrus to move over. It'll never happen."

A cute frown emerged. "I can be molto veloce," she added shaking a finger at me, slipping into Italian in her seriousness. "You're just too impatient. Everything with you is rush, rush, rush." Her beautiful eyes opened even wider in indignation. "Did you call me a walrus?"

Her frown darkened when my smile broadened. I decided retreat might be easier on my psyche. "Okay, okay. We'll shop for a swimming suit. But you've got to promise to be fast, Bianca."

"Bene," she said with a satisfied nod. "I will be very fast." A smile returned, excitement. "So let's go!"

We did.

My stomach rumbled. I checked my watch again. Five past four. Bianca emerged from the changing room in a frilly orange and yellow bikini. She looked at me. I frowned at her. She turned and went back. This had been happening a lot.

"Why can't you decide?" I yelled, my frustration building.

Bianca peeked around the changing room door. "I can decide but you don't like them," she insisted.

"What are you talking about?"

"Every one I try on you frown at."

Oh good Lord! "I wasn't frowning at your choice, Bianca! I was frowning at us still looking after two hours!"

Her face popped out full of surprise. "Davvero?"

"Yes, really," I said, shaking my head. Unbelievable!

"So which one did you like?" she asked.

Let's see. She had modelled somewhere between twelve and fifteen bathing suits in the last two hours ranging from one-piece Speedos to some startlingly revealing scraps of cloth supposedly called a bikini. I remembered her small delectable breasts in the red one and how seductively the white one formed to her plump pussy. If it was wet it might... "The white one," I decided.

Blue eyes stared at me, a puzzled expression emerging. Oh-oh.

"Which white one? The one with the small star, or the one with the yellow edging, or the one with the nice top?"

Damn! Had she tried on three white ones? "Which one was your favourite?"

"The one with the nice top."

"That was my favourite, too," I claimed.

Bianca gave me a bright smile. I sighed with relief. Crisis passed. I vowed to pay more attention to her shopping in the future. That thought made me laugh out loud. More clothes shopping with Bianca? Right!

The Maserati grumbled as we eased down the drive just before six o'clock.

"Tomorrow, Julian. If it's sunny we'll try water-skiing. First thing in the morning. This is so..." Bianca's voice tailed off as the house came into view.

"This is so what?" I asked.

She didn't respond.

"Bianca? What's wrong?"

"Is there something different?" she asked, pointing at our house.

Easing the car to a stop I studied the home. It looked fine to me. "What do you see, Bianca?"

"Nothing. But ... It's just ... Never mind."

A tickle of apprehension spider-walked up my spine.

We left the car parked on the drive. I opened the front door and followed Bianca in. She carried a small bag holding her new bikini. I carried the water-skis and tow rope. As soon as I stepped inside I knew. It was immediate.

Reaching out I stopped Bianca. She glanced back at me and I nodded back towards the front door. She nodded, fear emerging in her face. Turning, she walked back out silently.

I stood stock still. Because of her premonition I'd been more cautious. The scent was a flowery tanned leather one with an unpleasant sweet accent. I wore no aftershave. Bianca wore no perfume. Someone was here.

Inexplicably my pulse slowed. My hearing sharpened. I heard the very faint creak of a floorboard to my right, the study. Who was it? There were two acceptable options; charge into the study and take my chances, or ignore the study and pretend like I hadn't heard him, whoever it was. Frontal assault had risks. Not seeing him I couldn't tell if he was armed nor plan an assault. No. It would be better to let him come to me, lure him in as if I didn't suspect anything. I'd hear him coming at me. If I judged it right I could use the water-skis as a weapon, turn suddenly and strike him with the edge of one, hopefully across the side of his neck or down on his shoulder to break his collarbone.

With him distracted and continuing the turn, I could sweep his feet out from under him and follow him to the ground, slamming my elbow into his sternum to rob him of breath. While he gasped for breath, his disorientation would make it easy to roll across his body and wrap my arm around his neck, tighten, and choke him to death or break his neck. Four moves, six seconds, and he'd meet his maker.

The situation assessment had taken only seconds. "Don't forget to bring the packages, Bianca," I called out.

Bianca made me so proud, truly impressing me. Despite her fear, she replied loudly, "Okay."

I started walking quietly towards the stairs, my ears listening intently.

The sound was a rustle, just a whisper. I felt his presence closing-in on me. Erupting into motion, I turned, whipping the water-skis around in a debilitating strike. He was closer than I'd thought. A flash of steel. He grunted as the edge of the ski slammed into him. One. My leg swept around. Two. He thumped to the floor with a grunt. I followed him down leading with my elbow. Three. Rolling, my arm hooked around his neck and tightened. Four.

Two and a half minutes, not six seconds. Asphyxiation took longer. Inhaling deeply I stood. My side hurt.

Bianca stared at me when I emerged from the front door. In that scary mature aspect to her disposition she calmly observed, "You're bleeding again." But I saw her body trembling and fear in her beautiful eyes. It bothered me more than killing that man.

Looking down at the side of my chest I studied the gash in my shirt and the bloodstain spreading. So he'd gotten close with that knife. He'd been better than I expected. Who was he?

"Come on," I urged Bianca, extending my hand. She took it, her hand moist and trembling.

Passing the dead assailant on the hall floor, Bianca stopped. "That's Aldo!"

"Who's Aldo?" I asked.

"Aldo Cipoli. Uncle Marco's assistant. He's actually Uncle Marco's lover, too."

Patched up - Bianca having fussed and insisted on applying the bandage - I disposed of Aldo in the sea, some two miles out. Dinner was quieter. Reality had shattered our idyllic cocoon and reminded me we had a real problem to deal with. It had had an even deeper impact. It had brought home how much affection I was developing for Bianca. I'd actually felt fear for her when I understood the situation. That fear was much deeper than just care. It had shaken me. It still did.

In bed, I held Bianca slightly tighter and inhaled her scent deeper. Worry was a new feeling and an uncomfortable one.

The sound of a toilet flushing woke me. The covers moved. A warm girl moved close smelling of soap and sleepiness, a calming aroma. I hadn't opened my eyes. By not opening them I didn't have to face reality.

Bianca snuggled. Rolling towards her, I pulled her to me, body to body. My hand caressed her back. A sleepy brain took time to process the information my hand was sending. Bianca was naked. I confirmed it with a gentle grope of her butt; silky cool buttocks, bare buttocks, petite and sensual buttocks.

Her knee eased between my legs. I caressed upwards past a boney hip, up further. My hand found her sexy, small but firm breast and rubbed her nipple. It responded growing hard. She murmured quietly. An erection formed. Arousal. Desire.

Egyptian blue eyes greeted me when I finally opened my eyes. Bianca sighed when I nuzzled her cheek and neck, her knee rising to press against my testicles. A hand gently gripped my erection over my boxers and squeezed slightly before releasing it. She tugged at the waistband, a not subtle hint for me to remove them.

With a lingering kiss on her cheek, I removed my hand from her lovely breast, rolled away and pushed the boxers off releasing my erection. Rolling back to Bianca our naked bodies met. She was warm and cuddly and very sexy. Somehow the tip of my erection slipped up the valley formed by her closed thighs to press erotically at their junction, the crown pressed to her pussy. It felt incredible, exciting, arousing.

Hunching, the tip pressed to her cleft. Bianca responded with a slight smile and pushed her pussy at me lightly. Visions of pale blonde pubic hairs made my erection strain. I wanted to see, touch, caress, and even taste.

Rolling Bianca onto her back, I whispered, "I want to try something, Bianca. Just trust me." She nodded, a soft smile emerging on her face. It faded when my lips found her the tip of her breast, tasted her light pink areole, and teased her little nipple. I sucked, her succulent breast drawn into my mouth. Bianca arched her chest up, her hands resting on my head. Releasing her breast, I noticed the areole had darkened from blood and arousal, her nipple a hard bead. My erection strained, precum oozing out as I paid attention to her second breast. My hand slipped down her body.

It discovered the sensual rise of her mons and the faint tickle of soft pubic hairs. It discovered the remarkable shape of her pussy, an erotic delta, the steep sides narrowing to between her legs. I cupped her with a trembling hand.

Bianca sighed and let her legs fall apart. Unable to wait, I moved down and finally studied her pussy. It was beautiful. It was stunning. There was no doubt whatsoever that she was fourteen years old, her pubis thick and padded. But up close I discovered more pale blond pubic hairs than I'd expected, some uncurled, so new and pale they were almost invisible, bum fluff, silky, small and soft, some just beginning to curl, some curled lightly. Bianca had a gorgeous cleft, her labia plump and ripe and parted slightly to reveal their protected treasures: a long clitoral hood, sexy moist folds, her still immature inner labia, and below, at the very base of her glistening silken slit a small dark shadow that made my erection swell and ache. The opening to her vagina was so astonishingly small. Yet moisture glistened in her cleft highlighting her arousal, an almost flushed look. Sweet buttocks swelled where they pressed to the bed. It was truly a beautiful, intensely erotic sight.

Leaning in I inhaled and drew the scent of sexy innocence into my lungs, musky and earthy yet light and delicate. It called to me. That first kiss of her sent bolts of excitement racing through me, my cock swelling and leaking against the bed. That first taste was exquisite. Silky and moist, she had a flavour that matched her scent, pure ambrosia, manna from Heaven.

Bianca reacted to my kiss. Her body clenched. She inhaled sharply in surprise. When my tongue teased her clitoris Bianca's gasp was slightly louder. Pressing my mouth to her pussy, I suckled, ate her, and drowned in her sexy arousal. Bianca twitched. The tip of my tongue found the entrance to her vagina buried deep at the base of her labia. I pushed and probed unsuccessfully. Returning to her clit, this time I drew her clitoral hood between my lips with light suction. My hands cupped her sweet buttocks. My tongue teased.

Bianca gasped again. She whispered "Julian," drawing my eyes up over her sexy mons. Bianca's eyes were closed. She wasn't smiling. Her face was flushed. Her hands gripped the bed sheet under her. She humped her pussy at my mouth, my tongue teasing. She did it again, her stomach muscles straining, hips small mountains framing her pelvis. I sucked gently, teased and caressed her clit, my cock weeping precum. Bianca's mouth opened. She panted then held her breath. Her body arched slowly, paused, and collapsed with a grunt, her hips moving fast, humping a suddenly very moist pussy against my mouth. Bianca was climaxing and it was amazing, phenomenal, stunning.