Chapter 45

Harry couldn’t have been more surprised when he saw the redhead standing beside a lovely woman with black hair and naturally tanned skin, if he had to guess of North African heritage, most probably Algerian originally, holding a sign with his name on it. It turned out to be déjà vu all over again, shades of Berlin in a Mediterranean setting.

“Fia!” he shouted and rushed up to her and embraced and kissed her. “Let me guess: Harry’s Harem again.”

“Yes!” she laughed. “This is Alimaia.”

“You can call me Ali,” the lovely woman smiled. “I am your driver.”

“Of course you are,” Harry chuckled.

“Why of course?” she asked.

“How many chaffeurs are women?” he asked.

“Ah yes. Not so many. Our service ... we are special, yes?”

“Special how?” Harry asked, though he remembered the network Carly had told him about in Berlin.

“We cater to...”

“Same sex,” Fia filled in.

Ali nodded, blushed and remained silent.

“Later,” Harry thought. “Your car?” he asked Ali.

“I must get it,” she said. “Meet me outside?”

It was late, early morning actually, a late flight out of Amsterdam to Nice, and a cool breeze had the taste of the Mediterranean in it. A dark green limousine pulled up, not the oversized ones Americans had become used to, but a more classic size.

The trunk opened and Ali emerged. “I’ll get the bags,” Harry told her. She nodded and opened the back seat for Fia and Jenny.

“Beautiful limo,” Harry told her when he slipped inside.

“A classic Peugeot,” she smiled. “My father keeps it running.”

“He part of the company?” Harry asked.

“The mechanic, yes. I used to help him in his garage, unlike my brother. He got used to us and got hired by the company.”

“Your brother is gay too?” Jenny asked.

“Yes.”

“So you match up? Guy to guy and girl to girl?”

“Not always. There is problem, jealous?”

“Then ... a gay man would not hit on you.”

“Exactement! And how you say, vice-a versa.”

“Being a woman in such a party atmosphere, that would be a problem,” Harry realized.

“Yes, but Mr. Lynch...”

“Harry please.”

“Harry. We are what you say full service if you like.”

All in the back laughed.

“But you might have noticed I am a man,” Harry pointed.

“And I am bisexual, yes?”

Everyone laughed.

“You are Pat’s driver too?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

“Have you been...?”

“With her and Linda. They said if you want...”

“I appreciate that, but as you see, I have lovely ladies already.”

“One whom he misses,” Fia added.

“Of course,” Ali pouted.

“I believe we have disappointed her,” Fia giggled.

“Jenny,” Harry realized.

“Join us if you want,” Jenny offered.

“Thank you!” Ali grinned.

They arrived via a winding, uphill road, Harry marveling at Ali negotiating the curves, at a villa in Antibes. A beautiful place perched above the Mediterranean with an amazing view. Inside the walls were filled with black and white photographs of jazz musicians, most long dead.

Linda greeted them in the common room, drinking wine and snacking on cheese and a baguette. Beyond the room was a balcony that had a wonderful view. “Hungry?” she asked.

“Starved,” said Fia.

“Shall I fetch glasses?” Ali asked.

“Yes please,” Fia said, plopping beside Linda and pulling off some bread. “Fia,” she introduced herself.

“Linda,” Linda returned. “Harry’s agent and Pat’s production partner. But we met in Berlin.”

“Briefly if I recall. I came down to visit Harry.”

“Irish?”

“Dublin.”

“I remember. Good to see you again, and you too, Jenny.”

“You’re an agent?” Jenny asked.

“Business tomorrow,” Harry chuckled.

“Sorry,” Jenny apologized.

“If I know Harry, he’s probably got you a role already in something of his,” Linda smirked.

“The Velda role,” Harry admitted.

“I can see that,” Linda agreed. “We’ll talk.”

“Thanks,” Jenny grinned.

Just enough in the bottle of Bordeaux filled the wine glasses half way, poured by Ali.

“Who owns this place?” Harry asked Linda.

“Jim’s an old friend, a businessman who came out about when Pat did, but ten years older, married, kids, the whole charade. His business had interests in several things, including movies which was how they met, and when he retired he bought a bistro here in Antibes, which plays jazz.”

“I can see it’s an obsession,” Harry nodded.

“Photography’s his other obsession and they match up well. He sits in on piano sometimes at his club, and he’s good, though he doesn’t think he is. He and his partner are visiting his kids and grandkids this time of year.”

“Avoiding the festival.”

“Yes, but also its still the peak season here and he’s not much into crowds anymore. He goes the opposite way as everyone else which is really his character.”

“Was he like that in business too?”

“Kind of avant garde in the sense of being advanced to everyone else, knowing which wave to hit that most haven’t recognized yet. Not perfect of course, but enough to become quite wealthy.”

“Like a venture capitalist?” Jenny asked.

“Before it was a thing,” Linda nodded.

“Show me our room?” Jenny yawned.

When Linda did, Ali also following, Jenny saw a bed too small for four. “Is there another bed?” she asked.

“About the same size.”

“Maybe show that one to Harry?” Jenny smirked, pulling the chauffeur inside and shutting the door.

Instead of showing Harry, Linda described where it was since she’d disturbed a kiss on the balcony. “See you tomorrow,” Linda ended the conversation.

Left alone, the kiss became more passionate. Both Harry and Fia noticed the way the balcony perched above the other homes such that no one could see them. Fia had worn a soft dress for her travel, and Harry, having lifted her up, carried her to a patio table, setting her ass down there. The kiss broke so that Fia could undo his pants and Harry could pull off her panties, but when Harry started lowering, Fia told him, “Just fuck me.”

“Condom?”

“It’s okay,” she insisted, her pulling his pants and underpants down setting his cock free.

He scooted her forward and she claimed his cock in her hand, rubbing it against her damp pussy before settling it in place, upon which Harry pushed it into her, her moan caught by his lips to quiet it.

Her hand kept low, fingers rubbing herself. His hands pulled the fabric of her dress below her braless tits and thumbed her nipples.

Though the mouths pressed together, by the end of the fuck, a quickie especially by Harry’s standards, lips no longer sealed, Fia gasping with lips wide while Harry groaned in response to his own orgasm.

They laughed quietly once the orgasms subsided, and soon pulled themselves together. Stepping back indoors, Fia found the bathroom while Harry brought their bags to the described room before collapsing atop the double sized bed.

“Hey,” Fia murmured, waking him. “Maybe take off your clothes?” He did and she did. “T-shirt?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Harry replied, coaxing her cleaned pussy atop his mouth. Once her mouth got him hard again, she ignored his pull to keep her being pleasured by his tongue and sank down on him, and a much slower and more loving fuck ensued.

“I missed you Harry,” she murmured, kissing him.

“Missed you too,” Harry responded.

Eventually things quickened, Fia rocking the not all that quiet bedsprings and expressing her pleasure louder than she had outside. Harry gave himself over to the greater friction, and even accentuated it with his hands grasping her hips, pulling and pushing when appropriate, completely taking over when her orgasm stilled her, until he too became inundated by ecstasy just as hers neared its end.

“God,” she growled, shivering, her orgasm getting a new lease. “I can feel your hot cum.”