The Beautiful 1%

by Chrissy

After three days in Madrid I think I was ready to head back home. I'd seen all the tourist sights. I'd spent an enormous amount of money on spoiling myself -- designer clothes, facials, manicures - the works. I looked down at my hand. I'd even bought the most exquisitely expensive emerald ring. Set in white gold, the glowing green stone was emerald cut and incredibly beautiful. It had cost the equivalent of four months' salary and was the most extravagant item I had purchased during my whirlwind stay in the beautiful Spanish city.

But now I was bored. A state of "been there, done that" was setting in. Here I was laying on the bed watching TV in one of the most expensive hotel rooms in the entire city. What a waste! I might as well be at home watching TV among family and friends. I decided that tomorrow I would buy a train ticket and head back to my small home town south of Madrid where I had worked for twenty years as a Payroll Clerk for a factory that produced nothing more exciting than cardboard boxes.

As I lounged on the bed, my attention was drawn to the program on TV. A group of indignant women were debating the issue of ultra-beautiful celebrities being the primary role models for our impressionable young society.

One woman with a large black mole hovering dangerously close to her thin lips was denouncing the number of super skinny women in film and on TV. "It's impossible for the young woman today to have a positive or realistic self image about herself." she cried, her several chins quivering. "All we see on the screen are the beautiful people. Never ordinary looking people. The pressure on our youth is enormous," she said, her rage gathering speed. "Look around you next time you're on a bus," her eyes peered out at me from the hotel TV screen "You will NEVER see anyone who looks anything like the gorgeous actor and actress you've just seen in a movie."

I smiled to myself. I didn't WANT to see ordinary looking actors when I went to a movie. I didn't WANT to see people who looked like my fellow passengers on a bus. That was the whole point of going to the movies, wasn't it? I WANTED to see the beautiful people.

Another woman was talking now. "Only about 1% of the population is actually so flawlessly beautiful," she said authoritatively, "Yet on our screens and in our magazines it is 100%. No imperfection is allowed. Everyone is slim. Everyone is gorgeous. Everyone is perfect. It's misleading and unrealistic, even cruel. The average person has no hope of emulating such perfection, such beauty."

She looked out at me intensely, "Remember this," she said, "Only 1% of the resident humans on this planet can be described as truly spectacular. The other 99% are average and ordinary. I want to see this reflected in TV, film and magazines."

I clicked off the TV and went into the bathroom. I studied myself in the mirror. Although I had spent the afternoon being pampered at an expensive salon, I certainly did not qualify for one of the beautiful 1%. I belonged in that ordinary 99% percent of the population. At 39 I had kept my slim figure. My skin was still taunt and I had good bone structure, but I certainly was not the kind of woman that would cause a man to look twice. Not even once, probably. 'Ordinary' was the apt word to describe me.

I was not even rich. Just pretending. I had suddenly won quite a bit of money in a lottery. Not a fortune. But enough money to treat myself to a brand new car and stash the rest away in a savings account. I had been talked into having this mad week in Madrid by my crazy sister who was supposed to have accompanied me and who, at the last minute, had broken her arm in a car accident and could not come.

"Go by yourself" she had urged. "You should go by yourself. You don't need me tagging along with you. Maybe you'll meet the man of your dreams."

Yeah, sure! I thought. At my time of life I should have been married with teenage children. Instead I had merely seen a series of bad relationships.

I touched my light brown hair. It had been dusted with blond highlights and cut into layers giving the impression of thickness and curl. My face was professionally made up, my brown eyes so thickly encircled with black kohl pencil that they appeared large and luminous. I stared closer at my image in the mirror, not one of the beautiful 1%, but the best I had ever looked in my entire life.

So why was I hanging out in my hotel suite? I should be out there in public, showing myself off.

Opening the closet door I took down one of the designer label dresses I had purchased that day and put it on. My legs were tanned and freshly waxed, and my toenails bright pink as I slipped on a pair of ultra high silver sandals.

I would go down to the hotel bar. I had spent a couple of hours in the bar the previous evening and had become quite friendly with the waiter, Enrique.

Enrique was not one of the beautiful 1% either. His chin receded along with his hairline. But he had kind eyes that crinkled when he laughed and we had struck up a pleasant conversation. It was a small world, for it seemed he had grown up in a town not too far from where I lived. We even knew some of the same people.

I left my hotel room and made my way down to the bar. I sat at the same table as the night before, my back to the wall, my eyes surveying the room. I liked to people-watch. It was a quiet night. A few couples filled the other tables. But I was the only lone woman.

Enrique was at my side immediately. "Hello Christine," he said. "Would you like a bottle of the same wine you had last night?"

I nodded. He brought the wine quickly.

"You look beautiful tonight" he murmured as he poured my wine.

I smiled. "Thank you," I replied.

"Look, I'm off at midnight" he said eagerly, "How would you like to go out for a meal? We could go dancing, if you like."

Enrique was divorced. He had two young daughters. He had proudly shown me their photos.

I nodded. "That would be nice," I said.

"Why don't you join me for a glass of wine?" I invited.

He shook his head and glanced around. "I can't. I not supposed to. But at midnight I'm all yours"

I sat for a while drinking my wine feeling slightly awkward at being so obviously alone in a world inhabited by couples. Every so often Enrique would come to my table with friendly chatter, but the hotel bar was beginning to fill up and he was kept busy serving customers.

My eyes lazily wandered the room. I thought of the TV program I had watched earlier that evening. No beautiful people in this bar, I thought. They all looked like passengers on that ugly bus. I was surrounded by the ordinary 99%.

My attention was suddenly drawn to a burst of loud laughter and all at once a man strolled into the bar. Several of the patrons looked up to see, but I literally stared open mouthed at what I saw.

He was ravishing. Absolutely ravishing. Even in the dimly lit bar his stunning looks were dazzlingly evident. This gorgeous man would certainly qualify as a member of the beautiful 1%. I had never seen such a strikingly handsome male. Not even in a movie.

A woman hung on his arm. She was very young, very thin and futuristic looking. Her hair was extremely short and dyed a brilliant unnatural shade of red. Her dress was tight and seemed to be made of buttery black leather. It occurred to me suddenly that she might be a prostitute. She hung on the handsome man's arm, whispering in his ear and constantly pecking his cheek with kisses.

He appeared totally disinterested in his female companion. His restless eyes surveyed the room and then came to rest on his own image in the mirror behind the bar. He took an arm from around the waist of the girl and he smoothed back his hair carefully, tucking stray curls back into place. The young girl laughed at something he had said and then whispered once more in his ear. But he was not listening. His eyes had returned to their careful tour of the room.

They came to rest on me. For a moment in time our eyes locked.

I dropped my gaze down to my drink, suddenly embarrassed.

When I dared look up again he was still staring directly at me. I looked away quickly, my heart picking up its beat.

For many minutes I studied the table top, then I lifted my eyes again. He continued to gaze my way and, to my surprise, he actually smiled and raised an eyebrow and nodded his beautiful head in a form of greeting.

A feeling of intense heat swept through me. I again dropped my eyes and stared at the table. Why was such a handsome man looking at me? I wondered. With a shaking hand I took up my drink and gulped the glass dry. Enrique was suddenly at my side filling my glass.

"Fucking hookers," he hissed, nodding toward the handsome man and his female companion. Then he apologized for his language. "This is a high class hotel," he went on angrily. "The patrons shouldn't have to put up with this scum."

He crossed to the man and girl. "Do you want anything?" he asked none too pleasantly.

The good-looking man said something to his girl companion. With a pout she opened her tiny evening purse and gave him a tightly folded piece of paper. I guessed it to be money. With that she pecked the man on the cheek and left the bar.

The man ordered a drink and lit a cigarette, he appeared unconcerned about Enrique's obvious annoyance at his presence.

I kept glancing up at him, but he sat on the bar stool turned away from me facing the bar. Obviously he had forgotten all about me. Although why he would be interested in someone like me in the first place was a total mystery.

My eyes ran over him. He was gorgeous. His dark hair grew thick, his curls kept carefully under control with gel. Although he wore a dark blue denim shirt and jeans, the maroon tweed jacket brought style to his outfit and his clothes appeared well fitted and expensive. He was extraordinarily handsome. Wide spaced brown eyes, thickly edged with velvet eyelashes, full and sensuous lips, his jaw line strong and clean. His perfect head stood proudly on broad shoulders, which led down to a slim waist and muscled thighs. His shirt was open at the collar and I saw curly chest hairs peeping out from a strong chest.

It wasn't until many minutes had passed that I realized that he had not forgotten me. In fact, he was watching me all the time through the mirror behind the bar, a smile of amusement on his lips. He had caught me blatantly staring at him. Once again, a hot flush of embarrassment swept through me.

Then, to my horror, he stood up from the bar stool, drained his glass and began strolling across the room to where I sat.

I sunk low in the seat. I was certain he would be angry with me. He would demand to know why I was gawking at him.

My hands shook as he approached and I hoped Enrique would not be too far away to come to my aid. Oh my God! What should I do? I couldn't run. The man was almost at the table. Would he cause a disturbance? Would everyone stare?

Suddenly he was right before me. But he wasn't angry. I sensed the respectful smile, but did not dare look up to meet his eyes.

"Are you alone?" he asked pleasantly. His voice was deep and husky and as attractive as its owner. All at once the whole situation became crystal clear to me. Of course! He would assume I was a wealthy woman. A rich woman sitting alone in a bar.

Whereas I saw myself as I really was - ordinary and average - he saw me as affluent. Here I sat in one of the most expensive hotels in Madrid, decked out in fancy attire, my hair expensively coifed, diamonds in my ears and an emerald on my finger.

"Are you waiting for someone?" he asked.

I couldn't find my voice.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" he murmured as he took the seat opposite me at the table.

I shook my head and flapped my hand stupidly in the air as if giving him permission to sit. Raising my eyes, I dared look at him.

The man was even more handsome up close than I had imagined. A member of the beautiful 1% was actually sitting at my table opposite me. My breath grew ragged and it became difficult to breathe.

"Are you staying at this hotel?"

"Yes I am," I gulped finally. I tried to meet his compelling eyes that appeared to be the most unusually lovely shade of amber, but their effect on me was too forceful. I dropped my gaze to his lips and was instantly struck by their pouting luscious splendor. Everything about this man was seductive and overpoweringly erotic.

He seemed confused by my embarrassment. A confident wealthy woman surely would not be acting this way. Taking a deep breath I forced myself to meet his eyes.

"I'm in town on vacation," I said. Did he notice the quiver in my voice?

My shaking words seemed to open the door to conversation as he pleasantly inquired where I was from and then followed with questions about the tourist attractions I had visited and after a few minutes we were conversing about that conversation staple - the weather.

I was just beginning to relax when I sensed Enrique's presence at the table.

"I hope you're not bothering the lady, Antonio" he remarked somewhat nastily. Obviously he was acquainted with the good looking man.

I looked at my companion. So his name was Antonio? It suited him. I watched as he leisurely lit a cigarette and then returned Enrique's surly stare.

"The lady invited me to sit down," he said, insolently blowing a spiral of smoke in Enrique's direction.

Enrique turned his gaze on me. "Is he pestering you?"

I shook my head. I felt awkward and foolish, but the handsome man named Antonio seemed to be in charge of the situation.

"We'll have a bottle of the house champagne," he said, "And two glasses."

"Oh? And who would be paying for that?" Enrique voice dripped sarcasm.

Antonio pulled the folded money I'd seen the girl give him. He held it out to Enrique.

"I will be paying," he said.

With an annoyed glare, Enrique snapped the money from Antonio's fingers, spun on his heel and walked away.

The encounter did not seem to have upset Antonio in the least. He was totally relaxed and in command.

"That's a lovely ring," he remarked calmly, taking my hand. "Is it a family heirloom?"

"No, I just bought it today," I stammered. He did not release my hand form his, his touch was like fire on my skin.

But I stiffened and pulled my hand from his as Enrique brought the champagne to the table and poured for us.

With shaking fingers I lifted my glass and was about to gulp the bubbly champagne when Antonio clinked my glass with his in the form of a toast.

"To a beautiful lady," he smiled. Charm oozed from him. But it was not shallow or condescending. He said the words as if he truly meant them. For a giddy moment I felt incredibly beautiful and desirable.

All at once, my awkwardness was gone and my self-confidence grew. The wine and champagne had helped relax me and my tongue became loose and eager. We exchanged names and slipped easily into conversation. He knew how to relax me. His charismatic demeanor was enchanting and sophisticated, despite his obvious youth. I guessed him to be 10 or even 15 years younger than me.

I found myself telling Antonio about the lottery. About my winnings. Within ten minutes we were chatting easily - although I was doing most of the talking.

I had just thrown back my head in laughter when Enrique was at the table again.

"I'm finished in ten minutes," he said to me pointedly. "Are we going for a meal as arranged?"

I didn't know how to respond, but Antonio did it for me. "I will be the lady's companion tonight," he said firmly, although we had made no such arrangement.

Enrique's eyes bored onto mine. "Is this true?"

I dropped my gaze, unable to meet Enrique's hurt look.

"How dare you question us!" Antonio snapped with annoyance before I could answer. "I've just told you that the lady will be with me tonight."

Enrique looked down at me. "You know what he is!!" he said angrily with a contemptuous nod of his head in Antonio's direction. "You know he's going to expect to be paid. You know that, don't you?"

What could I say? We all knew where we stood. And, by my hesitation, Antonio knew that he had won and Enrique knew that he had lost. I had made my choice. I had chosen the gigolo. I had chosen Antonio.

Still, I hated the way that I felt. I hated the fact that I was hurting and humiliating a really nice man like Enrique. But what could I do? The opportunity to spend the night with one of the beautiful 1% had suddenly presented itself to me. I couldn't let it pass me by. I would never ever have the chance again to lie in the arms of a man whose beauty far surpassed my own. I wanted to experience such a night with such a man. I wanted to pretend that, for once, I was one of the beautiful 1% too.

Ignoring Enrique's outrage, Antonio calmly stood and walked around the table to hold the chair so that I might stand up. He turned to Enrique, his smile pleasant. His cool manner only fanning the anger that burned inside the waiter.

"We'll have another bottle of champagne sent up to Christine's room," he said. "And could you also send up a menu? We'll be ordering a meal," he looked pointedly at Enrique, "I tend to give my women an appetite."

I felt so sorry for Enrique. He was now placed in the position of a menial, forced to take instructions from a man he despised. A man who had won the situation.

Antonio took my hand and together we walked from the bar. I stumbled after him red-faced and flushed, eager to be gone. But Antonio had one final shot for Enrique.

"Oh, by the way," he stopped and turned back to the waiter. "Please arrange for a box of condoms to be sent to our room" he said loudly. "Maybe a couple of boxes." Everyone in the bar heard his words. I glanced quickly at Enrique's dark face and was overwhelmed with sympathy for him. His humiliation was now complete.

Antonio snickered to himself as we crossed the marble foyer to the elevator. He had thoroughly enjoyed the encounter, whereas I was embarrassed and mortified for Enrique.

The elevator doors opened, "Which floor?" Antonio asked turning to usher me in with a smile.

"I'm in the penthouse," I mumbled as we stepped inside the car, hoping my red cheeks were not too noticeable. An older couple stood inside the elevator and they smiled politely as the doors closed and the car moved slowly upward.

To my surprise, Antonio immediately shoved me back into the corner of the elevator and he began to kiss me, his kiss open mouthed, tongue-sucking and passionate. I could feel his hardening penis pushing against my stomach. He ground his genitals against me, already undulating - his buttocks tightening with each rhythmic thrust of pressure of his body against me.

The outraged horror and shock of the older couple was obvious. Although I could not see them I heard the woman mutter loud words of disgust at our lewd public display to her companion. "Filthy animals!!" she snarled through tight lips. "Disgusting!"

I didn't care. I was lost in pleasure. I didn't push him away. I allowed Antonio's passionate kiss to continue. I was enjoying myself. I had never done anything so bad.

My own arms went around him and all at once I felt immoral, depraved, almost wicked. I felt overwhelmingly filled with a carnal desire. I experienced a strong longing for sex, for a swollen, hard man inside me. I wanted to be fucked. I wanted to be fucked hard and good.

The elevator stopped and with a haughty sniff the couple got off. Antonio's hands had now moved up my leg and inside my panties and his warm palms cupped my buttocks pulling me hard against him. His lips left mine and with gasping breath moved to my breasts which swelled from the top of the low cut dress I wore.

Lost in passion, I didn't care who saw us. I didn't care about the elevator surveillance camera that filmed our every movement. I didn't care that my dress was up around my waist and that Antonio's hands were inside my panties. I didn't care about anything. I didn't care what anyone thought. I was lost in a wild abandoned emotion I had never experienced before.

But the elevator finally stopped at the top floor and we broke apart. I straightened and smoothed my dress and we made our way along the carpeted corridor to my penthouse suite.

I gave the key to Antonio and he opened the door with a flourish allowing me to enter before him.

Although several doors led from the large main room of my suite, Antonio went directly to the closet and took down a hanger to hang up his jacket. I realized that he had been in this room before. His ease and knowledge of the layout of the suite was obvious. My eyes moved to the bed. He had lain in this bed before. He had fucked other women in this bed. Fucked them for money. I should have been disgusted, offended, revolted. But I wasn't. The thought only heightened my sexual arousal.

Antonio removed his shoes and flung himself onto the large bed. He patted the bedspread and looked at me with a seductive smile.

"Come here, Christine," he invited.

Kicking my own shoes off I walked across the room and settled myself on the bed next to him.

He leaned in and kissed my ear sending shivers down my spine. "Tonight will be special," he whispered. "Tonight we will find ecstasy together. I am a professional. You will not be disappointed."

At his reference to his line of work, I felt suddenly awkward again. Should we discuss money now, I wondered.

But he began to kiss me, moving on top of me, his hands caressing my bare thighs. He moved his lips to my neck and, as I opened my eyes, I noticed that the shirt he wore, although a designer label and of good quality, was well worn and threadbare along the collar line. With a wave of sadness I realized we were both a sham. Both pretending to be something we were not. But I was only pretending for one night. Antonio lived this life every day.

I was suddenly filled with sadness for him. What had made him this way? Obviously he was cashing in on his good looks, but this was a hard life he had chosen. Maybe a cruel twist of fate had stolen away any opportunities.

A loud knock at the door startled us and we broke apart.

Antonio walked to the door and opened it. He said a few words and then came back to the bed with the hotel menu in one hand and several small boxes of what I guessed were condoms in the other.

A hotel employee followed him into the room wheeling a cart with a bottle of champagne on ice and two glasses.

I sat on the bed feeling out of my depth. Antonio was better able to deal with these kinds of situations than I. He pulled more bills from his pocket and gave them to the man, thanking him and leading him to the door.

He poured two glasses and brought them to the bed.

"Here's to a night of pleasure," he smiled at me. His teeth were white and perfect.

I sipped more champagne. "I've never drunk so much in my life," I laughed as the bubbles tickled my nose.

Antonio lit a cigarette and settled back on the bed. He opened the menu.

"Let's order now," he said. "Before we get too involved with other things."

"Antonio," I said clumsily, "How much money should I…" my words broke off. "I mean…how much…"

He kissed me gently halting my words. "Are you hungry? What shall we order?" he asked. I stumbled and mumbled and looked foolishly at the menu. I had no idea what most of the dishes were.

With a sophisticated flair, Antonio picked up the phone and ordered what sounded like an expensive and exotic meal for us. He charged everything to the room, of course.

Then he turned to me with a smile. His arms sneaked under me and I felt him gently pull down the zipper at the back of my dress. Slowly he removed it from my shoulders. The amount of alcohol I had consumed buffered any embarrassment I might have felt. The dress slid off and he threw it aside. Slowly, he removed my panties kissing my inner thighs as he removed the lacy object down my legs. I squirmed with anticipation. I was hopelessly under his spell. I wanted him so desperately. My bones had turned to liquid. I was squirming with hot wet desire.

"You have a beautiful body," he said, his eyes running over my now naked form.

"And you're full of shit," I returned with a drunken giggle.

"You are a very beautiful woman," he insisted with a smile.

"One of the beautiful 1%?" I asked with a grin.

He frowned, not understanding my words. "We shall make love now," he said unbuttoning his shirt, "Is there anything special you like?"

I giggled crazily. "I want it all!" I cried with wild abandon. "I want you to ravish me all night long."

It was late the next morning when I awoke. I guessed the time to be around noon. I lay on my side with Antonio spooned tightly into my back, his arms around me. He had one hand on a breast and the other lay buried in the hot mound between my legs. I could sense his warm breath on my shoulder. He was still fast asleep. I could feel his penis in the small of my back. We both smelled of sex and sweat.

I luxuriated for a few minutes in the fabulous night of erotic passion we had shared. It had been even better than I could ever have imagined. My God! Antonio was one hell of a lover and however much money he requested - it was his. He was worth every damn penny. I had never felt so completely satisfied.

I squirmed on the bed. I would have liked to have lain there a while longer, but an urgent need to pee was beginning to consume me. And, anyway, a 39 year old woman who had fucked her brains out all night long and who had drank an enormous amount of alcohol did not look her very best first thing next morning. My mouth was slimy and bad tasting. I knew I looked a sight and I did not want him to see me like this.

Moving gently I slid from his arms to the edge of the bed. I swayed, feeling dizzy for a moment, and then I staggered into the bathroom and closed the door.

I showered quickly. As the warm water revived me, I stood for a while checking my body. Antonio had been quite rough with me at times during our mad night of lovemaking and I noticed bruises on my thighs. Still, I only had a few scratches. I certainly was not complaining. A wave of desire rippled over me. My God! What that man could do with his tongue! Just the memory was enough to send shivers down my spine.

Stepping from the shower, I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair. Wrapping a towel around myself I was about to open the bathroom door when a strong premonition hit me. I had the definite feeling that when I opened the door, Antonio would not be there.

I turned the knob slowly and peeked into the bedroom. Sure enough the bed was empty. Antonio was gone. I looked to the night table - and so was my emerald ring. He had stolen my ring.

My heart sank to my toes and I stumbled to the bed and sat on the edge in sudden dismay. Disappointment overwhelmed me. Why would he do this? He knew I was willing to pay him any amount he wanted.

It wasn't the ring. I cared little for it. It was the fact that Antonio had stolen from me that hurt so bad. I thought we had connected in some way and now I felt he had violated the friendship that had developed between us. He was a sham. A complete sham. I had been mistaken about him and it hurt more than the loss of a stupid ring.

A blue wave of depression settled over me. I decided I would leave then and there. I was about to pick up the phone to arrange for a train ticket when there was a soft tap at the door.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"It's Antonio"

I rushed to the door and pulled it open. He stood with his head hung low. He did not meet my eyes.

I stepped back to allow him entrance to the room and I closed the door behind him. "Here," he held the ring to me in his open palm.

"Why did you take it?" I asked.

"I don't know," he mumbled, shamefaced. He seemed genuinely remorseful, the air of cool confidence gone.

"Antonio!" I admonished, taking the ring and putting it on my finger. "What a foolish thing to do. Everyone knows you at this hotel. If I had called the police you would have been arrested almost immediately."

He seemed so filled with gloom my heart went out to him and I forgave him instantly. "I'm sorry" he whispered. He pulled out his package of cigarettes and lit one quickly.

"If you had been some rich bitch I would've kept it," he went on, "But you're a nice lady. And you're just like me. Just trying to make a living. I got as far as the street and then I came back. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't steal from you."

He looked intently into my eyes. "I'm really sorry, Christine," he said again.

"The ring is not even worth that much!" I cried. I wanted to shake him for his stupidity.

"I've got a friend who would've fenced it for me. He would've given me money on the spot." He drew hard on his cigarette. "I was going to buy air tickets for myself and my brother. We would've gone straight to the airport."

"The airport?"

"Yeah, me and Chico are going to America once day," he smiled, his eyes suddenly coming alive. "Just as soon as we have enough money."

"Chico?"

"Yeah, my younger brother. He's just a kid. We live with my dad. I support them all. I keep trying to save money, but it goes in rent and gambling debts. I'm not good with money."

"Well, the ring wouldn't have got you far in America" I smiled. "It's not worth that much, you know."

Antonio crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. "I guess I'd better go." He started towards the door and then turned back.

"Er.. listen…..Would you mind if I cleaned myself up?" he asked. "I feel kind of a mess."

He did not look a mess, of course. Mornings are not cruel to a handsome 25 year old man. He looked totally gorgeous. His tousled uncombed curls, the dark stubble on his cheeks, they only added to his attraction. He was adorable.

"Sure, go ahead," I said "You know where the bathroom is."

"Wanna join me in the shower?" he winked and suddenly, all at once, our mood was light again. The stolen ring was forgotten. We were back to the way we were before.

I nodded eagerly. We stayed for a long time in the shower, soaping each other down, laughing like silly children. We emerged from the bathroom both squeaky clean and both aroused to strong sexual tension.

"Want a quickie before I leave?" Antonio laughed, diving naked onto the bed. I eyed his tiny hard ass. I wanted to bite it.

"Listen, why don't you order us some breakfast first?" I returned, "I'm getting hungry."

"Sure. Ever had scrambled eggs with lobster? It's the breakfast specialty. It's delicious."

"You must know this place well," I smiled. "You even know the specials on the menu."

"Oh, I'm here all the time," he returned airily as he picked up the phone to order the food.

"It'll be 15 minutes. Plenty of time for a quickie," he grinned taking a condom from the box on the night table.

Then he kneeled on the bed and eyed me sexily, his curls falling into his eyes. "Come here," he ordered as he placed a condom on his erection. "We're gonna lap dance."

With a strong arm around my waist, he pulled me into his lap, guiding his hard cock inside me as I settled on him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist as we sat facing each other, his head level with my breasts. He brought his arms under my armpits, his hands on my shoulders guiding me up an down on his erection. He had total control over my movements. Like waves on a beach he rolled me up and down on him whilst his lips sucked at my nipples. As our desire grew he pounded with force into me, our hips surging together, the bed rocking with our mad jerking movements.

Antonio had proven to me during the night that he could give multiple orgasms. And, even now in the cold light of day, completely sober, he rocked my world again. Mind blowing orgasms washed over me. It was hard to breathe. Hard to think about anything except the warm, wonderful feelings in my groin that rippled through my body stirring my very core to raw hot passion.

We broke apart, finally spent, catching our breath.

"Hey, that was SOME quickie!" I gasped.

"Oh, my quickies are the best in town," he returned, sharing my light mood. He went to the bathroom and tossed away the condom.

He had just pulled on his jeans when there was a knock at the door. Our breakfast had arrived.

I'd never eaten scrambled eggs with lobster before, but it was delicious. Exorbitantly expensive and decadent, but delicious.

We sat at the table shoving food into each other's mouths. I felt like schoolgirl. I wanted this to go on forever. I had never had so much fun in my entire life.

We finished the meal and poured the coffee. Antonio lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair draining his cup with one gulp.

"Who was that girl you were with in the bar?" I asked suddenly.

"The girl? Oh you mean Gabrielle? She's a hooker. We work together sometimes."

"Work together?"

"Yeah - we fuck each other while clients watch. They pay us big bucks. Gabrielle is real flexible - you wouldn't believe the positions she can get into. Her bones are like rubber. We do some crazy stuff together. The clients love it. They slobber and groan. Sometimes we want to laugh out loud at them."

I stared wide-eyed. Antonio had said the words so matter of factly, as if he were talking about normal events in life.

"You have sex with her whilst people watch you?" I stammered aghast.

"Yeah," he looked at me, seemingly surprised at my horrified expression. " We do it all the time. There's a whole world of sickos out there, Christine. You should see these guys. They masturbate whilst they watch us and get their rocks off that way. Hey, listen it's easy money. It's better than having to suck on a man's dick, which is what I'm forced to do most of the time."

My jaw dropped open. "What? You go with men? Are you gay?"

He laughed and poured more coffee. "No fucking way. I like women too much. But, unfortunately there's not too many women out there driving around in their cars cruising for a man for the night. No, it's always men. I don't like doing it. But it's a living and it pays good. It used to disgust me, but now I don't care. I switch off. It's like it's not happening. I have to be careful though," He paused, as if remembering an incident, "I've gotten beaten up by some of the bastards. I had to stick a knife into one of them at one time."

I gasped. "You killed someone?"

His voice was savage, "I was defending myself, Christine! Anyway, the shit didn't die. But I carry a knife when I'm on the street. It's a fucked up world out there."

I looked at his handsome young face, almost babyish in its smooth curves. Sadness overwhelmed me that someone so beautiful lived a life of such ugliness.

I tugged at the ring on my finger. "Here take the ring," I said quickly. "I'll give you the bill of sale. Take it back to the store and you'll get a full refund. Much more than your fencing friend would give you."

His large amber eyes looked into mine. "But this is worth a lot of money."

"YOU are worth a lot of money, Antonio. You are worth more than this kind of life you have chosen. You are so much better. You have so much more worth."

He took the ring from my hand. "I don't know what to say," he murmured. "This is an expensive ring."

"It's not THAT expensive" I smiled.

"But it's your ring" he insisted.

"I'd probably never wear it. It's far too ostentatious for my kind of life. No, you have it. I want you to have it. You have made me very happy, Antonio. I've never had such a good time in my boring old life."

"You know what?" he returned, his eyes big with excitement. "I'm gonna buy a motorbike with the money"

"A motorbike?" I exclaimed, enjoying his sudden animation. "A motorbike won't get you to America!"

He slipped the ring into his pocket and looked at me with a smile as wide as the sky.

"America can wait." He laughed.

I went across to a drawer and gave him the bill of sale for the ring. "You shouldn't have any problem returning it for the full amount," I said.

I realized that he was eager to go. He wanted to go motorbike shopping.

We went to the door. I was sad to see him go, but I knew it was best. It was time for us to part. I was ready to go back to my routine life.

"Thank you so much, Christine" he said politely.

"Please be careful Antonio," I murmured anxiously. "Why don't you look for a different line of work?"

He kissed me gently. "I will, Christine."

"You will what? Be careful? Or look for another line of work?"

"Both" he smiled. "Actually I'm shopping for some rich bitch woman with a big house. I've got my eye on one but she's acting coy. I know she wants me. But it's gonna take time. But that's the perfect job for me. Living with a rich bitch, giving her a good time every night in bed in return for a nice easy life."

I smiled inwardly at his definition of a 'job' to be living off of a rich woman.

"Is that what you thought I was? A rich bitch?" I asked.

He shuffled his feet, looking down awkwardly. "Yeah, well . . . that's what I thought at first."

"I must have been a huge disappointment."

"No way," he said grinning quickly. "You have been one of the nicest people I've ever met. No one has ever been as nice to me as you. That's why I couldn't keep your ring."

We looked into each other's eyes, smiling.

He suddenly shook my hand and with all the formality of a courtly young man. "Goodbye, Christine," he said warmly.

I could not answer for my blood had suddenly run ice cold in my veins. The touch of his hand on mind had brought a premonition so overpowering I almost fell to the floor at its intensity. All my life I had had been in possession of some kind of sixth sense. It occurred sporadically. But when it did, it was rarely wrong.

I smiled weakly as Antonio opened the door and with a sweet kiss on my cheek left me. I watched him walk away down the hotel corridor, my head in a whirl of despair.

Closing the hotel door I was overcome with nausea and raced to the bathroom tossing up the scrambled eggs and lobster into the toilet.

All at once I knew. I knew with total certainty that Antonio would be dead within months.

It was almost a year later when - out of the blue - I received a letter from Enrique. He was coming to visit some friends and would be in the area. He wondered if we could meet.

We had several dates and he forgave me for my dreadful behavior in the bar. He assumed I was too drunk to know what I was doing that fateful night. After a few months, we decided we would marry and planned a wedding. Enrique was a good, decent man and I loved his two daughters as if they were my own.

His touch on my skin did not draw fire. I did not squirm and cry out with ecstasy when we made love. But it was okay. Like I said, Enrique was a good man. And that's all that most women want, isn't it? A good man? What did it matter if he did not electrify me to hot wet urgent passion in bed?

I dared to ask Enrique one day about Antonio. His face creased into a frown. "The scum is dead," he growled. "He killed some woman's husband and was shot by the police as he tried to escape. He was a piece of shit, Christine. A no good piece of shit."

I looked away as sudden tears filled my eyes. My beautiful Antonio. So young. So flawless. So beautiful. And now he was dead, his young body rotting beneath the cold dank earth.

A life ended violently before it had even begun. Had anyone ever loved him? I wondered.

I closed my eyes. I loved you Antonio, I whispered, I will never forget you.