Chapter 13

"Heh!" I grinned when I saw them, Eva and Wolfgang edging past the crowd gathered to watch me give head to an ice cream cone.

We were shooting at a local canteen near the market, very authentic and colorful which was why Peter had picked it. I wore a gorgeous sarong in green and gold, and a golden bikini top above that. My trademark bed head was a rich tangle of black silk around my face, which was perfectly made up to look like I wasn't wearing any makeup at all. The shoot was going extremely well and I'd been having fun getting locals to pose with me, old women like the owner of the canteen, the small brown children who followed us shyly and then boldly asked for candy or money. It was great and I'd been able to lose myself for a few hours.

"Cindy!" Peter frowned as I'd just ruined his shot and I rolled my eyes.

"Sorry!" I sang softly, wrapping my pouting lips around the vanilla ice cream and trying to remember to turn my hips this way, arch my back that way, look at the camera ... yeah ... all natural ... oops! A large dollop of ice cream fell on my right breast, running down my well-tanned flesh and into the valley between them.

That got a soft sigh from the gathered males and a very loud, "Cindy!"

"What?" I giggled, licking my lips and trying to be serious. "It's not my fault the ice cream is melting!"

"Alright," Peter sighed and looked at his watch. "Lunch! Quickly people. We're going to set up at the fish market in forty minutes!"

The crowd stayed with me, of course, and I wasn't moving. Rita was asking me if I wanted something to wear over my bikini and I shook my head. Erin wanted to wash my face and I shook my head at her too, still eating my ice cream cone and ignoring the cold vanilla staining my tits. Some tourists were taking pictures of me, but that wasn't unusual and I ignored them as well.

"You guys want some ice cream?" I asked my two bodyguards as they emerged from the small throng.

"Ja," Eva said with a smile and Wolfgang shook his head.

"Yeah you do!" I grinned at the man and turned to Mahta, or Maitah maybe, I wasn't sure, asking the old woman for two more cones.

"You're very beautiful today," Wolfgang told me, smiling in a loose white shirt and khaki slacks, showing off that hard body of his. The man's brown hair was still unruly and he always needed a shave, but he was looking extra fine and right at home on the streets of Papeete. I thought he looked like a mercenary, sorta.

"You mean, sometimes I'm not?" I teased him. "I hope you got money, cause I don't even have pockets."

"He means to say it is nice to see you smile," Eva answered for her half-brother, accepting a vanilla cone with a smile for the Polynesian woman.

Eva looked pretty fine as well, wearing a pair of white Capri pants and a pink halter top. The tight clothes really showed off her athletic form. The girl was lean, incredibly well-toned, and very graceful just sitting there, but giving me the impression that it was all calculated for effect. Like everything she did was premeditated and she'd watch my responses carefully. She was a challenge, like a puzzle, and her casual attire seemed oddly out of place. Eva didn't wear such clothing usually and she seemed ill at ease, like a vampire caught in daylight, for that was very much how I liked to think of her. It was her face, the high cheeks and narrow chin, her wide eyes staring intensely blue at whatever caught her interest.

How could I ever send them away?

I wanted to ask them about Paul and get some more of the story they'd told me the night before, but of course that was impossible. There were dozens of people surrounding us and no privacy at all. The crowd's reaction when I let Eva clean the ice cream from my breasts with a bottle of water and a napkin was fun. I'll admit I was putting on a little show maybe, and my two companions weren't especially comfortable with the situation, but I was totally enjoying myself. I even posed for a couple snapshots with the tourists, which was something I hardly ever did.

This really was the reason I was modeling. I didn't need the money. I'd already made more than I could spend probably and Mr. Goethe was out there right now making me more. The fame was fun, sometimes, but more of a nuisance really. The attention. That's what I liked, the looks and smiles from people I didn't know, the ordinary people paused in their lives to spend a moment with me. In Tahiti or Paris or anywhere else, people stopped what they were doing just to be close to me. It was addictive and dangerous, but I couldn't help myself. Nobody could.