The Escort

Chapter Five

By Kurtofsky4eva

Summary: Kurt Hummel is the highest-paid escort at Arena, New York's elite agency that provides only the very best. He is sought-after by both men and women and no one knows what his real preference is. Story includes cross-dressing, role-play and light BDSM.

A/N: My abject apologies for taking so long to update. I've been insanely busy and even though this chapter had been written and waiting on my computer, I never got around to editing it until now. Here it is finally and I hope you all enjoy it.

WARNING: This chapter definitely earns the M rating!

Disclaimer: I have no claim on any of the recognizable characters. The OCs do belong to me and they better remember that.

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Kurt sighed into the feel of strong hands kneading his muscles and stretched. He kept his face resting on his folded arms but he smiled and called back to his masseuse, "That feels so good, Erin; your hands are magic."

A soft grunt came from the woman who ran both hands down his calves, kneading strongly as she went. "You mustn't wait so long the next time. You were full of knots!"

Kurt murmured an assent. "Mmm, yes, well, things were a little tense the last few days."

He quieted and let the woman continue her work, his mind going back to Noah and the way he'd left him two nights before. Telling him to let the concierge set him up with someone for the night probably wasn't a nice thing to do but he had been so mad… and hurt.

They hadn't spoken since and Kurt hadn't expected him to call. That's not to say that a little part of him hadn't been hoping. Oh, yes, the eternal romantic lurking somewhere in his heart or mind insisted that Puck was redeemable and that things could improve between them. Reality though, said that they were better off away from each other and Kurt had to agree, albeit reluctantly.

The last two days had been filled with arrangements for his trip to France and the upcoming 'assignment'. Arena had any number of euphemisms for what they did and they often amused Kurt when he used one of them. He was really looking forward to this experience, not because of the intimacies he'd be sharing but simply because Diane LaMontaigne was an absolutely fascinating woman.

Kurt had read up on her to add to the gossip that abounded about one of the world's few female billionaires. She had impeccable taste in art, literature and clothing, besides being a first-rate businesswoman. She had a formidable intellect and had been interviewed in every magazine or newspaper in print or online including Time, Newsweek, Forbes, Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, you name it, her face had graced it. She was the French version of Oprah, he thought, grinning to himself and he admired her strong spirit and kiss-my-ass attitude.

Also, the fact that she had personally asked that Kurt attend one of her 'events' made his heart skip a beat every time he thought about it. Hence the last two days of spa and beauty treatments whose end results would see Kurt at his glowing best. He had been shaved, pummeled, pounded, waxed and creamed to within an inch of his life. Now he was getting the final touch, a relaxing massage from his favorite masseuse.

When Erin was finished with him, Kurt had one last thing to do; the sauna was a ritual for him. The fragrant steam extended the feeling of relaxation that the massage had given him while sweating any remaining toxins from him. He had done a two-day cleanse as well and now he felt light and fit and ready to take on anything that LaMontaigne could throw at him.

Friday morning found Kurt stepping from the town car and looking toward a gleaming white private jet that looked sleek and fast. He shook his head as he stared at the aeronautical beauty before him and then turned to admonish the chauffeur who was handing his luggage off to the stewards.

"Please, be careful; that's delicate stuff in there!" He smiled to take some of the sting from his words but he was serious. He had found a delicate figurine that he thought his hostess might appreciate and had it wrapped in miles of bubble wrap within his hand luggage. "In fact, I'll keep it with me. No, no, it's fine, I'll take it."

The steward handed the square Globetrotter Domino Limited Edition case which probably cost more than half a year's salary. Kurt smiled his thanks and indicated that his makeup case would be with him too but the rest could go in the luggage compartment. The young man nodded and moved off, trundling the pile of luggage before him.

Kurt strode behind him and then headed up into the plane, breathing in the cool air of the plane's interior. He smiled at the welcome from the other steward and was led to where his other colleagues from Arena were already seated. Greetings flew back and forth amid requests and instructions and finally Kurt was able to remove his ivory trench coat and settle into one of the decadently luxurious seats.

He was dressed today in shades of white from the thin silk/cashmere tee that was almost the color of his skin to the comfortable cream-colored suede boots gracing his feet. He wasn't wearing jeans today but cream pants in a relaxed wool/polyester blend that nevertheless hugged his thighs and showed off his body to advantage. Sometimes he felt like dressing in a theme; one day he'd be in shades of blue, another day, rust and today, white. He knew he looked cool and elegant and he'd chosen the fabric of all his pieces because they would still look fresh at the end of a ten-hour flight.

Kurt eyed his two colleagues and nodded to himself in approval. The girl, Lyssa, was of Asian descent and shared with Kurt that serene facial expression that always seemed to intrigue people. A lover had once described Kurt as being Sphinx-like and he'd been rather pleased and took it as a compliment. Lyssa, too, was graceful in her movement, always seeming as if she were dancing rather than simply walking. Maybe she heard music in her head all the time, Kurt wondered sometimes.

The other was a large, muscular blond of Nordic appearance. Kurt never understood how someone who could tan so darkly had such white-blond hair. Ken (and he rolled his eyes when anyone made a Barbie reference) was pretty talkative, more than enough to fill the silence between Lyssa and Kurt, spending much of the pre-flight time outlining all the features of their hostess' beautiful aircraft.

"Do you know this baby can go nearly the speed of sound?" Smiling at the way Kurt's eyebrows rose slightly and Lyssa's big eyes widened further, Ken nodded smugly. "Oh, yes, no other Gulfstream – or business jet for that matter – will get you closer to Mach 1."

Kurt smirked inwardly at the avid light in Ken's eyes which reminded him so much of Finn when he was on a roll about his favorite football team. He sipped at his drink that a steward had brought and listened to Ken wax almost lyrical about the jet.

"And this isn't even the biggest jet she owns," Ken was saying now. "Oh, no, LaMontaigne owns three more, each bigger than the last."

Kurt knew this but he let Ken continue his roll until Kurt decided it was time Lyssa got a word in. He turned to look at her, leaving Ken to peruse one of the many in-flight magazines that were lying around.

"Is this your first time to France, Lys?" They had always got on fairly well, not that their paths crossed often. They would all meet, of course, when Arena held their customary meet-and-mingle parties; that was how the staff of the agency networked. They often exchanged little tidbits of information on various clients, hoping it would help someone else if they got assigned say, a particularly difficult client.

Lyssa shook her head and smiled at Kurt, her small even white teeth contrasting beautifully with her naturally dark red lips. She probably didn't even need to wear anything but clear gloss, Kurt thought almost enviously.

"No, I used to visit family when I was little. I speak a little of the language but I'm not very fluent." Her voice was light and musical and Kurt couldn't help thinking of those paintings by Gauguin of Tahitian women with their warm brown skin and long, glossy hair with flowers behind their ears.

Kurt nodded but said, "I'm actually fluent; it's the one language that I fell in love with when I was little." They smiled at each other and then Kurt looked up at the sound of voices at the door to the aircraft.

They were joined by the captain and his co-pilot who introduced themselves and let them know that they were about to depart and that, with a good headwind, they would arrive in France in time for supper.

Kurt settled in to relax and eventually sleep; he wanted to be refreshed at the end of this transatlantic flight. He retrieved his cosmetic case and from it he took his white noise-generating headphones, high-tech devices that blocked out more than 90 per cent of the cabin noise. The aircraft was relatively quiet as it was high-end model but still, for good REM sleep, he needed almost complete silence.

He followed that with his eye mask made from cool satin, smiling at Lyssa as he saw her doing the same thing. Only Ken still sat there spewing every thought that came into his handsome head. Kurt rolled his eyes but smiled; it took all kinds of people, he reminded himself.

As he relaxed, waiting for the captain to announce their takeoff, his mind wandered ahead, trying to imagine who else Diane had invited. While he had never met her, he had definitely done his research, starting with her background. He was fascinated by her intellectual prowess but also by the fact that she seemed to have the soul of an artist. She made a habit of buying up luxury homes around the world and turning them into mini-museums. Diane LaMontaigne was the kind of person you would never get tired of talking to, he pondered, and hoped he would get the opportunity at some point over the next few days.

Their destination was the Chateau deLaReine in the famous Loire Valley and Kurt felt a little thrill of excitement. He was not a stranger to beautiful, luxurious dwellings but how many people got a chance to spend a week at a world-famous chateau dating back to the 16th Century? deLaReine had been the hunting lodge of one of France's young kings, despite the name. It seems even royalty had crushes and the young monarch had named the lodge for his wife who, unfortunately had been in love with someone else.

The magnificent structure, Kurt had discovered, housed some 400 rooms. The castle, for that is what it really was, had been added onto over the centuries and now was one of the most beautiful buildings ever constructed. Diane's family had come into ownership a couple of generations back and she had lavished her own money on refurbishing it, bringing it back into its former glory. Rumor had it, too, that she had made certain rather interesting additions; playrooms outfitted as dungeons for certain 'parties' were what people whispered about.

The captain finally announced their imminent departure and Ken finally shut up. The stewards came around to check if anyone needed anything and then they all buckled in for the take-off.

As they began their taxi from the hangar onto the runway, Kurt wondered what awaited him in France. This wouldn't be his first time at an extended house party that would involve sex of the non-stop variety. What intrigued him most was the thought of the people he would meet. If they were of the caliber of Diane LaMontaigne, he was in for a fascinating time – all the sweating and moaning aside.

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oOo

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The drive from the airport to the château was long and picturesque. Kurt and his Arena colleagues were met by a large and impressive Bentley into which they and their luggage were stowed before being whisked away.

Their chauffeur was surprisingly chatty; he filled them on the history of the Loire valley as well as that of the château. Kurt was fascinated by history and architecture; well, he found everything fascinating, actually. It was one of the things that made him so sought-after as an escort. He really wasn't hired just for his looks or ability to please in bed. He was known to be intelligent and well-read with a lightly sarcastic sense of humor that, strangely enough, appealed to many people.

He listened avidly to their driver as he stared out at the passing landscape. The Loire Valley was chockfull of castles; no self-respecting high school French student could forget that. It was a beautiful region in a country famous for its beauty as well as its cuisine and wines. Kurt took a deep breath, barely able to hold back his grin. However, he was not going to have time to play the tourist here because the bottom line was, he was here on an 'assignment'.

Still, he was going to be staying in one of the area's most famous castles so that would more than make up for the fact that he wouldn't be spending any time touring. Just as he reminded himself of that fact, the huge car turned through massive wrought-iron gates and they were trundling along a tree-lined road. They all leaned forward, craning their necks to get a first glimpse of the château and when they did, they barely held back gasps.

Château deLaReine was absolutely breathtaking. The many architects down through the centuries had undoubtedly added their own unique touches in the extensions but they all seemed to have held to a specific central theme. The skyline of the castle looked just like the skyline of a famous Middle Eastern city and drew the eye upward.

The car finally came to a stop in a huge courtyard and the three disembarked with their heads craned back on their necks. Kurt knew the castle was one of the largest in the region but reading about it and actually seeing it were two very different things.

"Wow!" Ken was the first to actually say anything and Kurt chuckled breathlessly but before he could add his own comment, they were greeted by a well-dressed gentleman who addressed them in slightly accented but perfect English.

"Mademoiselle, messieurs, welcome to the Château deLaReine. Madame is awaiting you in the main salon. Will you follow me, please?"

Kurt nodded and fell into step behind him, his eyes only a little wide as he took in the grandeur of one of the world's most famous residences. It was no surprise that everything was sumptuous and well cared for and he felt his excitement move up a notch. Their footsteps echoed on the beautiful tile floor but were strangely muffled by the huge, gorgeous tapestries on the walls that apparently depicted various moments in France's history.

After about two minutes of brisk walking, they approached a pair of pale blue enameled doors trimmed in gilt that looked as if they belonged to the original 16th century structure, and their escort threw the doors open and stepped aside.

Kurt, Lyssa and Ken walked slowly inside and then their eyes were drawn to the figure rising from a beautiful antique desk who turned to greet them.

"Welcome, welcome, it's a pleasure to have you here! I am Diane and you must be Kurt!"

Whatever Kurt was expecting, it wasn't this. Diane LaMontaigne was one of the richest, most formidable women in the world but she was nothing like her public persona apparently. He relaxed and smiled widely at her, extending his hand to meet hers and grasped it warmly.

Really, he shouldn't have been so surprised that he was being enveloped in a warm, charismatic personality because he knew on an intellectual level that many successful people did, indeed, have that trait. He just hadn't been prepared and he suppressed a little chuckle as she shook his hand and then turned to greet the others.

Lyssa blushed and Ken preened, such was the power of Diane's personality and Kurt smirked at the others as they looked a little flustered at meeting one of the most famous people ever.

Kurt cleared his throat. "Thank you for inviting us, Diane. You have a beautiful home!"

The words may have been the standard ones given to any host or hostess upon meeting them but Kurt imbued them with his own charm and warmth and Diane grinned at him as she looked around at her own salon.

"Oh, this old thing!" and they all laughed. She leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "You wouldn't believe the heating bills for a place like this," and she laughed again, waving them to take seats on the comfortable sofas dotted about the room.

She turned to tug at a tapestry pull and when a member of her staff appeared almost immediately, she ordered refreshments, first looking at the others to see if they were ready. At their nods she indicated tea and when the man left, closing the doors behind him, she turned to Kurt.

"I suppose you must be wondering why I invited you all here?" At their polite nods, she smiled and continued. "I have a few people coming tomorrow, particular friends of mine and when I was in New York earlier this week, I caught a glimpse of you, Kurt."

Kurt prided himself on his sophistication but he was genuinely startled and only just refrained from blurting, "Me?" Instead, though his eyes widened slightly, he simply nodded and waited for her to continue. The others, though, were more than curious as to why they were also chosen.

Diane laughed softly and her bright blue eyes twinkled in her smooth face. "Yes, the gala earlier this week?" She watched as Kurt recollected the night he had been at the gala with his prince; the same night he had seen Puck again for the first time in nearly eight years.

He smiled now, his eyes lighting with interest. "Oh yes, the Beekerman ball; but I don't recall seeing you…" and he chuckled along with her. "Oh, you were in costume, too."

Diane nodded and crossed long, still elegant legs. She was dressed rather conservatively, he thought, but realized that most super-rich people didn't always dress as if they were heading to a gala every moment of every day.

"Yes, and since I had planned this little 'ancient Rome' entertainment of mine, it struck me – or rather, your stunning appearance that night gave me the idea to invite you."

Kurt knew better than to ask how she'd known who or what he did because people of her ilk had any number of resources at her fingertips. Money unlocked many mouths as well as doors in this world.

She glanced at the other two who had been quiet the whole time she'd been conversing with Kurt and she smiled graciously at them. "Your 'manager' was kind enough to suggest Ken, is it, and Lyssa, as well."

Kurt nodded, wondering if she had specified body types in a sort of grocery list but banished the thought. There was no need to dehumanize anyone, though there were many people inside and out of the business who were inclined to do so. He did not define himself by his occupation as he had a very healthy self-esteem. He always had, even as a teenager when so many people struggled to find their identity.

Just then a little knock at the doors sounded before they were opened by a man who Kurt thought of as the butler. He was followed in by a maid in uniform pushing a large tea cart laden with platters of scrumptious sandwiches, tea cakes and a large teapot.

Diane thanked her staff and began to serve them, smiling as she handed the first cup and saucer to Lyssa. "I hold to many British traditions here simply because I fell in love with them years ago. I attended boarding school in England as a child."

Kurt knew this, of course, thanks to his research but he nodded and looked at her interestedly. "Thank you," he murmured as he took his own cup of tea. "I've always been fascinated by that concept; sending little kids away from their parents, growing up with a bunch of strangers…"

She chuckled but shook her head, handing Ken his cup. "Oh, it's not as bad as it sounds. Of course, the homesickness is natural but one does move on. I like to think it made us more self-sufficient at a much younger age than if we were coddled at home until we were eighteen," and she quirked her eyebrow at the three Americans sitting before her.

Kurt laughed, genuinely amused by her subtle dig and nodded as he helped himself to the sandwiches. "I know, we Americans are pretty much wrapped in cotton wool until being unceremoniously kicked out of the nest for college. I think that's why so many of us waste our college years, y'know. The sudden freedom goes to our heads."

Tea time was one European tradition that Kurt definitely liked and sometimes had commented that America shouldn't have kicked that tradition when they won the War of Independence. Another tradition he'd heard and read about and thought America could use was the siesta. He was a night person anyway so the thought of taking a break in the hottest part of the afternoon and then re-starting in the evening appealed to him immensely.

Now, though, he listened as Diane told them about the people they were going to be meeting and 'entertaining' the next day.

Kurt was fascinated to know that of the six people invited, four of them were super famous and likely to travel with their own entourages. Of course, the château was more than large enough to accommodate everyone, what with its 400-plus bedrooms and suites.

Diane sat back, genuinely enjoying the chat with the three Americans and eyed them interestedly. Kurt had no way of knowing that she was mentally pairing them off with her imminent guests, having an idea of who would appeal to whom.

She looked at Kurt first, watching the way he spoke so animatedly, his usually pale skin flushed delicately pink with excitement and his unusual eyes gleaming in the warm lighting of the salon. He really was a delicious-looking boy, she thought even as she nodded to whatever he was saying.

His coloring really intrigued her; he reminded her somewhat of the fairy tales of her youth. His skin was porcelain fair, his lips were flushed pink sometimes red and his hair was a gleaming dark mahogany that showed chestnut in some lighting. When she'd seen him at the Beekermans' affair, she'd experienced a little fillip of excitement because of his androgynous appearance.

She turned her attention surreptitiously to the other two. Lyssa was a perfect little mouthful she thought; petite with lovely, smooth dark skin and gorgeous hair, Diane knew she would appeal to quite a number of her guests.

Finally, there was Ken who bore a striking resemblance to a once well-known Swedish action movie star. In fact, as she watched him listening to Kurt and adding a comment here and there, he could very well have gone in that direction if he had wanted to, she thought. She did not know or begin to understand the vagaries of Hollywood and the movie-making business but she would have thought someone would have snapped up the living Ken-doll already.

When the conversation wound down and the staff had removed the detritus of their tea, she summoned her butler again. When he appeared she smiled at the three and said, "Marcel will show you to your rooms and then we meet again for dinner at 7."

They took their leave of her, Kurt the last to leave the room, and she eyed him appreciatively with a little smile as he left. He really was rather eye-catching, she thought, and then immediately wondered how good he was at his job. His manager had said he was the agent's finest escort because he had a brilliant mind and she had to admit she was looking forward to finding out how true that accolade was.

Kurt, Lyssa and Ken followed Marcel as he showed them to the wing in which they would be housed for the next several days and they barely held back their awe. Each of them had adjoining full suites and Kurt once again marveled at how the very wealthy lived. His accommodations were almost the same size as his penthouse suite back home! He walked in to find his things awaiting him and he hurried to check if the gift he'd brought was safe. He sighed in relief to see that it was intact, set it aside out of the way and then strolled around the vast space.

He threw open the French windows and stepped out onto the balcony, feeling as if he were royalty about to wave to the assembled masses below. He giggled at his fancifulness and then turned to go back inside. As he removed the layers of his outfit and shrugged into the robe that was lying on the bed, he realized that he hadn't thought of Puck in at least the last half hour. Yeah, big improvement, he mocked himself as he threw himself onto the large bed.

He rolled over onto his stomach and allowed himself to relax, wondering what Puck would think if he could see him now, knowing why he was there. Kurt was in no way ashamed of what he did; as he'd indicated to Noah, he was good at what he did and he was not a prude. He enjoyed the rush of power he received at the thought of reducing men – and women – to quivering mounds of flesh panting for him. Maybe in a couple of years he would want to move on to something else, maybe something more challenging but right now he was having fun.

You could be having fun with Noah, his wayward mind ambushed him again and he let out a curse, which was unusual for him.

'Get out of my head, bitch!' He flung himself onto his back and, realizing that he was not achieving the level of relaxation he was aiming for, decided to draw himself a bath. He slid off of the bed and padded into the en suite, stopping in the doorway with his mouth open. 'What the_?!'

"Oh, sorry, m'sieur!" A maid leapt up from where she was kneeling at the side of the bath, her eyes wide as she saw Kurt in his bathrobe. "Madame said you would probably want to bath before resting?"

Kurt eyed her, his heartbeat slowing down. He hadn't heard anything from in the bedroom so he had been quite startled to find he hadn't been alone in the suite. He glanced around and noticed for the first time that there was a door which apparently led out into the hall. He frowned and nodded to the door.

"From now on, only come in here if I'm not in the suite, okay?"

The little maid bobbed a curtsey (for crying out loud!) and waited with her hands twining around each other. He raised an eyebrow at her as he stepped closer into the huge room. It was really a beautifully-appointed space, almost a mini spa and the bath itself was big enough to hold at least four people. Right now it was filling with fragrant, steaming water and he tugged at the cloth of his robe, thinking the maid would get the hint and leave.

To his surprise, she stepped forward, gently moved his hands out of the way and completed the untying of his belt. He admitted to being a little thrown off his stride because by the time he reacted, she'd moved behind him to slide the thick, soft fabric down his arms. She turned aside to lay the robe onto a gorgeous chaise longue and Kurt stuttered, "Excuse me…?"

The maid moved back towards him, planting herself right in front of him and her eyes, big and dark, stared avidly at him. "I'm here for you, m'sieur. Did you not know?" and before he could utter a word, she tugged at the zipper on the front of her uniform and stepped out of the dress.

Kurt gaped at her, watching as her dark head bowed as she removed her shoes. She straightened up to stand before him in rather expensive and seductive lingerie. If she was just a maid he would eat his favorite leather jacket!

"Uhm," he waved a vague hand at the still-filling tub. "Really, I've been bathing myself since I was five. What…?"

She smiled, saying, "My name is Yana, M'sieur Kurt, and Madame chose me for you."

She stood proudly in her near nakedness, secure in her beauty and Kurt took a deep breath. He knew what he was here for, he just hadn't thought that he would be 'pampered' in such a way by his hostess. However, he was a quick study so now he smiled down at the beauty before him and said, "It will be my pleasure to know you, Yana."

Yana felt her pulse quicken as the man before her seemed to become someone else entirely, someone sexy and confident and not the wide-eyed boy that had stepped into the en suite.

Kurt's hands went up and around her back to unhook the lacy brassiere that cupped her high, firm breasts and he felt a little smug as she caught her breath. They were standing fairly close but when he removed the bra, he stepped closer so that the tips of her breasts brushed his chest when she automatically breathed in.

Yana felt her nipples tighten and her lips parted as she took a deep breath. This man hadn't touched her yet and already she could feel herself dampen.

Kurt stepped back, confident in his own nakedness and then fell to his knees. His hands reached up to unhook the garter that held up her sheer stockings and he looked all the way up her body to catch her eyes.

He smiled as her breath quickened, knowing that his sexual charisma resonated in her, setting off ripples of arousal in her body like the reverberations of a gong.

"You are very beautiful, Yana; I'm grateful to Madame." His voice had grown a little husky as he'd become aroused and he knew it was one of his most attractive features. He smiled as her cheeks pinked and when he'd finished removing her stockings, he moved his hands to her hips, to the narrow fabric of her thong. He raised his eyebrows at her as if to say, "may I?" and almost laughed at the dazed way she nodded permission.

He didn't really need permission as she was admittedly there for his pleasure but he'd discovered over the years that women especially liked to feel they were in control of that last barrier to fall.

He got to his feet and then moved towards the bath; when he stepped in he held his hand out to her, ever the gentleman, and helped her in.

Yana felt the color move from her face down to her chest; she'd never been with anyone who treated her so gently. She felt as if she were the lady of the manor, not just a maid who had a 'special' job in this strange household.

Kurt settled into the warm, fragrant water, turned off the tap and then pulled Yana toward him with her back to his chest. She started to protest because, after all, she was here for him, but Kurt shushed her.

"Shhh, let me…" his lips brushed her ear and he felt her shudder. His hands cupped some of the nearly too-hot water and poured it over her firm breasts, making sure not to touch her nipples yet. He felt her squirm a little impatiently and he chuckled. "You will please me by letting me please you, understand?"

Yana nodded but bit her plump bottom lip. This man was already driving her crazy and she tried to still her body from squirming again. She let her hands grip the sides of the tub instead of his leg and rested her head back against his shoulder.

Kurt hummed in appreciation of the warm, solid feel of the woman lying against him. He had certainly never imagined he'd be sharing a relaxing bath with anyone but this was wonderful, he thought. He continued to hum a little tune as he scooped water up onto Yana's chest. He could feel her tensing because of her arousal but he was in no hurry for things to end.

He moved her hair out of the way and placed a soft kiss on the nape of her neck, relishing the gasp she made. At the same time, he cupped her breasts and squeezed them, chuckling at her louder gasp.

He was fully hard by this time, having been turned on from the moment he'd started undressing her. She was like an unexpected gift left by his very considerate hostess and he was enjoying himself.

Yana could feel the man's cock pressing against her lower back and she squirmed back against it, dying to feel it inside her pulsing cunt. She'd never been turned on so fast in her life and she gasped again when one of his large yet gentle hands slid down her body, below the water and onto her shaved mound.

"Uhm, yesss," she whispered, totally unaware that she was even speaking and she writhed, pushing herself into his hand. One slender finger slid down to her clit and she cried out again, shifting so that it slipped softly inside her. "Oh, god, yes, please."

Kurt nipped at her nape and then, removing his hands from her, urged her to turn around, which she did hurriedly. He gazed up into her flushed face, her eyes huge and dark and her mouth open in a pant.

He stared at her intently and then asked, "Is it okay?" He hoped she realized he meant if she were clean because they were going to do this bareback.

She nodded, her hair flipping about her head wildly as she straddled him. "Yes, yes, I'm clean; please, m'sieur!"

Kurt smiled and gripped her smooth hips, lifting her easily and setting her in the right spot. He caught his breath as she slid down around him, the tightest, hottest, smooth, wet glove and smiled again as she gasped.

Yana bit her lip to stop from crying out. He was huge! She hadn't really examined him when she'd stood before him and if she'd done so, she would have been prepared, but sweet Mary, he felt so good!

Her hands gripped the porcelain of the tub again as she sank slowly down on him, feeling her channel stretch to accommodate him. Her head went back and her whole body flushed as she felt her bottom come to rest on the top of his muscular thighs.

Kurt soothed her as she shuddered; he knew he was a bit bigger than people expected and he'd seen the way her eyes had widened as she'd taken him inside her.

"You're good, you're okay, just slow down," he said now, his voice low and sultry and then he leaned forward to take one plump dark nipple into his mouth. He suckled it, licking and tickling it before he nipped it softly, grinning against her skin as she cried out. He knew from his own sensitivity that, treated just right, it felt like a line of lightning went straight from the nipple to one's crotch.

He lavished attention on that bud before turning to give its twin the same treatment. Yana writhed on top of him, riding him as the water sloshed around them. Kurt could feel her muscles fluttering tightly around him and he groaned as her hips rotated in a move he particularly loved.

His hands kneaded her ass, helping to grind her swollen clit against him and the sounds of their moans and cries echoed around the huge, steamy room. He knew she was close from the way her breathing hitched and when he thought she was right on the edge, he slid one long, slender digit into her ass.

Yana cried out and came, thrashing on him and squeezing him so tightly that he erupted inside of her, his head going back as he cried out. He pulsed into her, short jets of come that she couldn't actually feel apart from the swelling of his cock deep inside her. Her head crashed down onto his shoulder and she rolled her hips to wring the last of his ejaculate from him and finally she panted, pulling back to smile, sated, at him.

Kurt grinned at her, his breath harsh but slowing as they let the still-warm water soothe them.

Yana smiled down at the beautiful man beneath her and mentally thanked her mistress for the gift. It wasn't often that she enjoyed helping the guests relax but this American was the best. She hoped she would get another chance to help him but now she eased back, smiling apologetically as she rose from the water.

"Is there anything else I may help you with, m'sieur?" She stood dripping by the side of the tub, aware that her uniform was no doubt very wrinkled but she didn't have the energy to care.

Kurt looked at her from half-lidded eyes but shook his head. "Not now, no, Yana; that was great!"

He laughed as she blushed and he wondered for the first time how old she was. 'Hmmm, old enough to get you off, so don't even ask,' the snarky bitch in his mind told him. He ignored the voice and lifted a languid hand to stroke up the inside of one of Yana's smooth thighs.

Yana's breath caught in her throat as his hand came to rest on her mound, stroking her almost as if she were a pet. She widened her stance invitingly and held back a shudder as his finger stroked her slowly. Oh, god, she could definitely go again but she couldn't be greedy.

"I think I'm really relaxed now but I might need this again tomorrow," and he smiled up at her, genuine interest in his blue-green eyes. He removed his hand and sat up, pulling the lever to drain the tub before filling it again. He wanted to relax and savor this encounter so he nodded at her in dismissal, saying, "Thank you, Yana."

Yana nodded and grinned at him, her body humming with pleasure and she stepped into her uniform without bothering with the underwear. She bade him a good evening and slipped out of the door to the hallway, locking it behind her. This American was not like the others she'd heard about. He had almost something European about him and she giggled as she ran towards the servants' wing, already looking forward to helping 'M'sieur Kurt' to relax again.

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TBC

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PLEASE REVIEW – IT MAKES ME AS HAPPY AS YANA!