Warning: Contains offensive, politically incorrect expressions. This is not a sweet Eric, nor will he be in this story. He is not misogynist, just a cynical womanizer with a dirty mouth.

Fast Approaching Death

3. 'Saint' Eric

EPOV

I take my luggage from my beauty. She has class, a temper and shaped lovingly in all the right places. I would never grow tired of her. After all these months together I'm still in awe of her responsiveness. She roars under me like no other. With a final pat on her curvy rear I leave her in the parking lot. My pride: the 'widowmaker' Hayabusa, world's fastest motorcycle.

Entering the Foişor Castle, a genuine one, part of Peleş complex that normally used as a protocol place for official meetings, I follow my two companions as we check in.

Politely I dodge Sofia's attempt to hang out for lunch: "Look, I truly appreciate all this but I'm tired. I need to catch up with my sleep hours."

Batting her fake eyelashes Sofia whispers in what she believes to be a seductive manner: "I was sure you would be pleased with my surprise. Here are the activities for the weekend." she says handing me a folded piece of paper. "Too bad you won't join us for lunch. They have a lovely French cuisine in here that just melts on your tongue. Get your beauty sleep, Eric darling. Gather your strength for our dinner tonight, tomorrow's bungee jumping, and any other vigorous activities you might have in mind. Call me when you get up," she concludes, after a meticulous assessment of my ass and a final wink.

She grabs Andrei's arm and drags her boy toy down the hall, swaying her behind, nicely encased as it is by the tight leather bronze pants. She's most likely taking him to her room to drain him dry, starting with his nuts, and ending with his already mushy brains.

Concealing my disgust I go to my own room. I don't want to see her annoying face for a while.

She must have cashed-in some heavy favors to get us in here. She has a thing for the luxury commonly associated with royals and this hotel is part of the Peleş castle. It is a cozy building, and was once the Hunting Pavilion of King Carol the First. I can't stop marveling at its beauty, even if I am pissed off by Sofia's high-handed behavior. Especially with issuing the whole program thing, a written one no less, for these three days! No bedroom activity posted in her damn program, but I bet that is what she meant by 'leisure time'. She's handling me like a fucking escort! I angrily crumple the paper and aim it at the wastepaper basket. I miss.

I reflect again on why I'm here: she got me to get out of Bucharest this weekend by telling me that we will go at the Motorcycle Road Racing in Braşov, and instead it's this now? I really don't like being tricked. I'm the stupid one here; I should have suspected such things from her. Speed riding is my biggest passion; but for her it is just a way to show off her flashy Harley.

Fuck Sofia and her dear Andrei. Well, technically this is something she would want and most likely planned this whole damn trip around. I have indulged her demands a few times, of course, since the bank she runs is one of my Security Company's biggest clients. I need to keep her satisfied, especially now that we are expanding. And it doesn't hurt that she has some decent tits and a tight ass. I'm not much into redheads but she isn't a bad one.

I like the all flavors of women, since I basically gave up on men after him. The beautiful women here are this countries best asset, in my opinion. There are so many tempting ones that I can be as picky as I choose to be, since my looks work fully to my advantage - tall fit body, long blond hair, blue eyes unlike the regular folks here. And last but by no means the least my most prized asset: my 20cm [9 inches] cock. I stand out in any crowd.

Even if I'm no Ken, I mostly pursue the Barbie pattern: model-like blond bimbos, the dumber the better. But when I need something more than the rush of a release out of it I ignore my preferences and will do anything walking on two legs. Just NOT when they fuck with me. She'll have to wait, I want her to beg.

~o~

After the room service brunch and a quick shower, I'm officially bored. Maybe a nap would do me good since I went to sleep at an early hour of the morning after a quite satisfying fuck. The buxom brunette, at least a half-blood gypsy was particularly vocal while praising my skills, but her mouth was better put to use at more productive activities

After closing the blinds, I shut my eyes and try to relax. My mind brings out the earlier image of a pair of intense blue eye. That road encounter: a girl that looked painfully like dearest Pam.

Pam, the lifeline of my youth! In my half-asleep state I bask in her memory. I recount her taking a stand for me, yanking me out of that living nightmare that was my youthful years. I recall fondly the patience she showed me when I was behaving like a scared wild animal. The unwavering love she blessed me with. Her sharp mind and the sting of her palm when I got too disobedient. How she fiercely took my part when I was (rightfully, most times) accused of doing the stupid things kids do. How she taught me, using the stick and carrot method, the impeccable manners needed to compensate for my wild nature. The only family I ever had. The sense of loss was dull now, but ever present.

On the road I had to look twice to make sure I wasn't seeing things as I passed that driver, to confirm for myself that it wasn't Pam in that ridiculous yellow car.

But it was just some girl. Blond, tanned, with big blue eyes, much like Pam's. I bet she was a natural blond too.

She was sweet.

I shoo away the memory of her: I don't do sweet. Sweet, little good girls are not really my cup of tea.

I drift off to sleep and into the soothing blue depths of those eyes.

~o~

Coliba Haiducilor [Outlaw's Hut] is one of my favorite places to eat in this area, a rustic, lodge themed place. Its secluded location, on a hill near the resort, secured it against the invasion of loud groups of pounding tourists.

The three of us are seated in a booth under a bear skin sprawled on the leaning wall above. After enjoying the Hut's complimentary drinks – palincă and snack of şorici (straps of salted pig skin) and red onions, a sleazy waiter brought us the menus.

While I was considering what to order out of the venison and traditional dishes I covertly watched my two companions.

Sofia is pointing out to Andrei her favorite dishes. Looks like the process of permanently bonding him to her has already begun. She will brain wash him; change him completely, twisting him inside-out into an obedient pet. She won't stop until he becomes totally addicted to her, ready to do anything for his mistress. Then she will find a new toy. I've seen her doing this to many others over the years. Sickening! I think.

Her eyes are sparkling with excitement while talking to Andrei who listens ecstatically to every stupidity issuing from her slim lips. I study his features. He is good looking, with boyish features, probably barely twenty and too eager to please her - just another hormonal young man. I wonder if the experience that Sofia intends for me to grant him will sober him up, or bind him further to her.

Evil bitch! When compared to her I am a fucking saint. Yeah, call me Saint Eric all right! Sure, I use women, and men for that matter, but I always give more than what I take. I'm a firm believer in doing things thoroughly. My giving nature always works to compel them to return to me, again and again, for more. My long polished sex skills and my half Swedish genes just served to cement my cherished reputation.

Grinning to myself, I order Venison Tartare from the waiter. I grimace, watching him writing the order with a pen that he fished out from behind his ear on a crumpled notepad, as he then scribbles Sofia's selections for both her and Andrei. Boy can't even order his own food!

I glance at the surrounding tables; it is quite packed even if is barely nine in the evening.

The local band of dark skinned musicians is paying special attention to a loud group seated nearby. Probably some executives, by their looks, eager to throw money at gypsy party songs. There are four men and three women, and they seem already buzzed. The men were middle aged, with nothing interesting about them, except a younger one, seated slightly apart from the others like he didn't belonged there. I was annoyed that he was facing opposite me so I couldn't have a clear view of him. He had a small figure and blond hair.

Their women were appealing, tall and slim, but overdressed. It never ceases to amaze me how could anyone choose to wear a tight dress and high heels on a mountain trip. Two of them were black haired – one with long straight hair and a pale complexion, the other one sporting curls and dark skinned. The third woman had bleached almost white blond mousy hair and an obvious fake tan. Quite naturally, all were leering at me at various intervals. I could easily see myself with any of them, even all at once. As the film of my vivid and ever horny imagination started to play in my mind, I start to feel my interest peaking. I quickly tame it; this is neither the place nor the time for this. Sofia will certainly want my undivided attention for herself and her trainee tonight. As much as I would enjoy grinding on her, she is the one paying for this trip.

Our evening progressed, with lots of spicy small talk and jokes meant to loosen up Andre. After finishing my main course I hear the group I previously studied at the neighboring table becoming noisier. Turning my attention to them, I notice that the girls are apparently gone, probably to the restroom to do whatever women do when running in packs. Three of the men are pestering and basically groping the fourth, quiet one. I guess the guy is gay or overly shy and the others are giving him a hart time about it. They seem seriously inebriated by now. Their tone made me aware of the potential explosive problem, so I decided to intervene if things got worse. Steeling myself, I am vibrating with anticipation: "I do love a good fight!"

Any guesses who the boy is?

My gratitude to Scattered21 for keeping me grounded and editing this story. I also thank each and every one of you for taking time to read it.

Since I'll be out for a long waited vacation I won't be updating next week. Still, I'm looking forward for your feedback. Thank you in advance for them. I will answer when I'll be back.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the mistakes in this story. *sigh* You know, I used to own a tiny piece of Peleş castle and it's surroundings, because it used to belonged to the state, as in „all citizen's property", which rather translates in no-one's property. But no more: the castle was returned to its rightful owner, the former King or România – Mihai Prince of Hohenzollern, three years ago. So yes, not even that...