“Oohh
darling...” Katrina sighed languorously, shivering under the gentle touch of
her husband’s hand moving over her nude curves beneath the sheet. She arched
her back pushing her hard nipples against his hand as her mouth opened under
his, his body descending on hers. “Mmmm,” she sank back, raising her hips to facilitate him
better as his rigid length slid deep into her moist depths. Wriggling sensuously, she gripped him, her
thighs around his waist as her arms went around his neck, pulling his lips
tighter against hers, her mouth wide and urgent. As her tongue entwined
deliciously with his, his hands gripped the cheeks of her bottom. “Hah, hah, hah,” almost without realising it
... because it was so comforting... and expected, her hips had entered into a
rhythm with his, increasing the friction and tempo until he jetted his love into
her. She had nearly reached an orgasm
that time but her gasps and sighs made sure that her husband would have no
inkling that she was anything less than fully satisfied; she loved her husband
dearly.
Although Jason’s touch was familiar
and predictable, she wanted to make the most of it because after tonight they
would be parted whilst she and the family, even including her own widowed
mother Lynne, enjoyed the first week of their holiday before her husband could
join them after his latest business dealings were finished. Ok, so although there may now only be a few
sparks of absolute excitement any more in her sex life, but there were other
things. Her rich and powerful lifestyle,
thanks to Jason’s industrial empire, counted for a lot. One couldn’t have everything in life, and
they still loved each other in a comfortable way. And although a part of her sometimes
whispered in her ear that she was only 26 and wondered whether there was any
more excitement to life she soon remembered why she had no cause to regret
meeting, settling down and marrying Jason nearly seven years ago. There were multi-million pound reasons to be
content including several lavish houses throughout the world, a private plane
and the thrill of running some of Jason’s companies. In fact one reason for her lack of total
concentration on her husband’s body was her thinking through the things she
needed to do whilst on holiday. She must
contact her personal assistant, Mahood, before
leaving in the morning.
Although Katrina had, she had been
told, a beautiful soft, doll-like face swept by shoulder length brown hair and
a figure to die for, she had - in order to make a good impression on her
husband - tried to develop an iron will in running his companies effectively.
When business people and employees first met her they probably were often
lulled by her soft girlie-looks and expected her to be an easy pushover at
meetings. Some even thought she was a
secretary. But, although it went against her grain she had forced herself to be
tough to all intents and purposes. Yes,
although she was sexy, soft and generous in the bedroom, she had learnt to be a
tougher cookie in the boardroom.
After washing and then sliding into
bed to kiss her sleepy husband goodnight, Katrina turned over herself and
drifted into a carefree dreamless sleep. It was to be her last for some time.
***
The morning was bright and clear as
were Katrina’s mood and brain as she supervised the last of her packing after
her beautiful stepdaughter, Charlotte and her new husband, Greg, arrived at her
mansion. They were all going to drive to
the airport together in the company’s chauffeured limo. Although Jason didn’t totally
approve of his daughter at only nineteen, and to an American lad with a
ponytail whom she met during her first year at university, she was happy, and
that was the main thing Katrina told her husband.
The lovely girl had been a part of Katrina’s
life since before she was a teenager and she treated her like her own daughter; and
who knows one day, Katrina thought, she might be able to persuade Jason to let them
have a child of their own, a brother or sister for Charlotte? But in the meantime, she and Greg obviously
loved each other and Greg came from a well off American family of lawyers so he
wasn’t marrying for money. And besides, after the death ten years ago of
Charlotte’s mother, Jason’s first wife, the poor girl could do with some real
love in her life. But this holiday
should help the family bonding process with Greg, she hoped.
And her own mother,
Lynne, was joining them for the first week, until at least Jason arrived – so
it should be fun. It had been two years
now since she had been widowed and it would be nice if her mother could find
some more companionship, perhaps this holiday, a first for a few years for her,
would help. Maybe she would meet a nice man?
But enough of her harmless plotting, she
mentally chided herself; she must keep tabs on running her business too and it
gave her secret kick to keep Mahood on his toes. She felt that he was instinctively lazy and
had no real commitment to the company; he wouldn’t last long, she guessed. Whilst the thought was there, she rang him on
her mobile and began reeling off a list of ‘to-do’ jobs.
“And make sure you download last
month’s output stats onto your laptop when you bring it, I’ll need you to
analyse the figures and present them to me in two days, Mahood.”
Katrina spoke with authority into her mobile before breaking the connection and
without even waiting for her assistant to reply.
“Aahh, Katrina,
he’s on holiday with us. OK, I know he’s
not... perfect but you’ll not ride the poor guy too much, eh?” Dear sweet Charlotte, the antithesis of the textbook spoilt
little rich girl, suggested to her stepmother. That lovely girl didn’t have a
bad or stern bone in her body Katrina decided.
“Poor guy,” Katrina puffed her cheeks
in a mild rebuff, feeling that she had to justify her attitude.“I’ve known better cleaners from the agency than him
as a PA. I’m not sure how well his so-called
qualifications will stand up when he eventually produces them and I get a
chance to look. If he spent less time
trying to look up the skirt of any passing woman rather than working he’d be a
lot more efficient. I reckon he stands a good chance of being out on his ear
unless he works his butt off harder for me, and he knows it,” she laughed
contemptuously. “This is an important company I manage for your Father, I’ve no time for free-loader passengers.”
***
“You’ve got the laptop loaded with all
the figures, Mahood?”
“Yes, Mrs Baxter,” the Arab nodded
patiently when he ushered her into the stretched limo with an almost
self-satisfied glint in his eye. It was an hour later. Well, Katroina
thought, she’d soon knock any of that out of him if those figures didn’t come
up to scratch and were not presented in the way she wanted.
“Hi, dear.”
“Hi, Mum,” Katrina returned her
mother’s greeting and air-kissed towards her.
Mahood had already instructed the driver to
pick up Lynne from her own house. Her
mother still looked glamorous despite being only a year or two short of fifty
and she hoped that the fates would treat her as well at that age.
Katrina smoothed down her short but
expensive white dress over her toned thighs as she sat on the leather seat,
aware as a woman always is, of Mahood’s appreciative
eyes briefly flicking over her and Charlotte.
Again, as only a woman does, she instinctively knew that he was a filthy
lecherous creep, it made her shiver in disgust when she occasionally felt his
hooded eyes peeling back her clothes. Maybe that was why he was still unmarried
in his late thirties. And that was also
why she often rode him, metaphorically, so hard. The thought of him maybe fantasising about her
and also now Charlotte, made her feel quite sick. Deep down she sometimes felt
threatened by the Arab, but to be fair he’d never actually made any suggestion
of a move on her. Let the bastard look,
but not touch, she thought teasingly, sensing how the Arab enjoyed the brief
tantalising glimpses of her long thighs and white knickers as she manoeuvred
herself into the car with as much decorum as she could muster. Yet the thought of him doing any more than
look and wish was sufficiently repellent for her not to even consider it
seriously. She’d sack him and have him
arrested for assault if he even tried – and he probably knew that.
Ignoring him, Katrina indulged in
girlie chats with her mother and Charlotte whilst Mahood
and Greg did nondescript male talk as they made the half hour drive to Manston airport, near the Thanet coast.
***
“Hi Joanne, a good day for it,” Katrina
spoke breezily to their familiar air stewardess, Joanne who worked for the
company on their private jet. She was a
pretty woman probably just a couple of years younger than herself, with Jewish
blood in her make-up, Katrina guessed, judging by her features.
“Yes, I gather the weather reports are
good, Mrs Baxter,” Joanne, in her smart uniform, gave a bright and engaging
smile. “But... but I’m afraid we may be slightly late taking off because the
normal pilot called in sick and the replacement is just sorting some
paperwork. It’ll only be a few minutes
and I’m sure he’ll catch up in flight,” she said, obviously wanting to keep the
wife of the boss and her party happy, Katrina decided. But it wasn’t the woman’s
fault, maybe Mahood should have checked ahead though
to ensure everything was going smoothly.
“This took us by surprise,” she deliberately
let her smile slip a fraction as she glanced at her assistant. “Best you go up front and have a word, eh,” she nodded at Mahood. “Not a real problem though if we’re off soon, eh,”
she warmed her smile again for Joanne’s benefit as the Arab scuttled up front
whilst the stewardess began taking their bags.
“Mrs Baxter, I think you’d better see
this,” Mahood’s request half a minute later that she should
do anything other than sit down and relax for the flight sparked her annoyance
– and she tried to show it.
“Well?” she began to take a couple of
steps towards the front where Mahood was talking to a
large Negro in pilot’s livery. Then she
faltered and stopped.
Katrina felt her annoyance at the
potential delays turn to a cold shaft of fear when the huge dark man in uniform
standing up front by the crew’s door, who had initially been smiling at her,
quietly produced a gun. Instinctively she turned back to the entry door but
another man, a smaller one, who must have been waiting in the plane behind them
as the stewardess showed them on board, closed it behind them and waved another
gun, standing on guard to prevent any retreat.
“Now you gotta
know that your lives depend on you doing exactly as you’re told unless you want
to go the same way as those who disobey,” the big Negro up front drawled in a
South West American accent whilst his gun remained pointing at her.
“This is preposterous, I object, you
cannot... do you know who these people are?” Mahood,
to his credit, strode up to the man, confronting him bravely.
Thuck!
The sound from the man’s silenced gun
was so small and insignificant, but its effect wasn’t. Mahood, staggered
onwards towards the man but now as if drunk, his hands pressed to his chest,
before collapsing slowly face down on the floor, silent and still, a red puddle
forming under him.
Katrina heard herself scream just as Charlotte
did. Their hands were over their mouths
in shock, rooted to the spot in terror.
“Now he wasn’t the first who I’ve had
to teach this ultimate lesson to and I doubt he’ll be the last – maybe some
more of you feel like resisting?” the man drawled casually as his smoking gun
barrel rose again to point at them. “Luckily the sound of the engines ticking
over will have drowned out your noise but I’d prefer no one else cry out unless
they want to join him,” he lightly kicked the prone Arab. “Now what you gotta
do to stay alive is drop all of your bags, handbags too and shuck down, clothes
off, those pretty dresses and jeans etc within one
minute. Anyone still wearing their
things at the end of that time...” he pointed at Mahood.