Educating Kate
By Nighthawk

Rating: R, of course.  I suppose I should try to behave myself, but he’s just so much fun to play with!

Disclaimer: I had nothing to do with creating the character of Antoine Laconte.  I give all credit to Harris Goldberg and Rob Schneider, along with a whole lotta thanks!

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            Antoine only just managed not to snarl impatiently at the confused logjam in front of the elevators.  Why people brought children to this place, anyway, was beyond him.  The upscale Florida resort was never intended to be “family friendly,” having no children’s areas at the pools, spa or workout facilities, no playground on the beautifully-landscaped grounds, no children’s menu at any of the several fine restaurants on the premises and a general atmosphere that was geared to attract well-heeled adults looking for luxurious accommodations, muted elegance and first-class service . . . not parents with young children. 

            However, as he was finding to his disgust, that was no protection against middle-aged American yuppie couples who insisted on treating their children like miniature adults.  He saw them everywhere, in the States as well as abroad, and he was sick of them.  They were always older, well-off and accompanied by their most recent trendy accessory: a child. Never more than one child and Antoine was certain its birth had been timed down to the second to fit in with career and financial goals.  The babies wore designer clothes and designer shoes, played with the latest overpriced “educational” toys and were transported in strollers with more safety features than his Porsche.

            The parents were usually uptight, stressed-out control freaks who fussed over their hapless children as though they were new espresso machines or PDAs they hadn’t quite learned how to use.  Antoine noticed that neither the parents nor the children ever looked like they were enjoying life.  These couples insisted on bringing their yuppies-in-training to elegant restaurants known for leisurely, two-hour meals, late evening concerts and hotels like the one where he was currently staying.  It was driving Antoine mad.  He had worked very hard at his unconventional job to be able to retire at forty and had intended to spend the rest of his life living in ease and luxury, enjoying the best the world had to offer, unpressured and at peace.  He had not thought that would mean dodging strollers in marble lobbies or sitting in five-star restaurants listening to anxious mothers coaxing their squirming offspring to eat the nice Cheerios while he tried to discuss vintages with the sommelier.

            This afternoon had started so well, too, he thought irritably.  He decided to have lunch at the pool side café.  The hostess, a cute woman in her early twenties, had nearly swooned when she saw Antoine for the first time a few days before.  She’d asked which table he preferred, and he knew quite well that she now kept that same table available for him every day throughout lunch, even if he never showed.   When he did appear, she glowed like a bonfire and almost danced as she led him to his seat.

            Today she’d greeted him with a yearning smile and taken him immediately to his table.  Antoine appreciated her efforts on his behalf—especially as she was undoubtedly breaking the rules—and favored her with an especially charming smile and some flattering attention.  No one could charm and flatter a woman like Antoine Laconte . . . no one.  He’d had an outstanding crab salad and a few glasses of Pinot Grigio while watching the women around the pool.  And, they’d watched back.  Although he no longer had to depend on attracting women to make a living, twenty years of doing so had left their mark; his remarkable good looks, stunning physique and aura of intense sexuality still made heads turn and breathing quicken wherever he went.

            Then he’d decided to go back to his room, and the pleasantness went out of the day. The resort’s pool and waterfront areas were one floor below the lobby, accessible only by hotel elevators to ensure that just the guests used them.  The cluster of four elevators were located in a recessed area, two on each side.  When Antoine reached the area, he found a solid mass of small children, harried parents, strollers, beach toys, tote bags, sand and noise. 

            All of the children were either sobbing or shrieking with joy, the parents were scolding, pleading, wheedling and yelling, and the din and confusion in that confined area were horrendous.  Elevators were opening and closing but no one was ready to get on, and unless he vaulted over the crowd, neither could he.  Antoine barely avoided having his crisp linen slacks clutched by a sticky-fingered little girl, and he could see that it was going to be some time before he could get on an elevator and escape.

            Turning abruptly from the mayhem, Antoine backtracked to one of the shops on that level and found a saleslady who was tidying up a display of beachwear.  “Excuse me,” he said, his rich baritone made even more alluring by his Italian accent.  The woman turned, gasped, and hastily composed herself.  “Yes?  May I . . . help you, sir?”  Antoine grinned inwardly, knowing exactly the effect he was having on her.  It didn’t matter that she was probably over sixty-five; age provided no immunity when it came to the Laconte charisma.

            “I hate to trouble you, madame, but there is such a mass of children, parents and . . . equipment at the elevators . . . could you tell me if there’s another way I could get back to my room?  I fear it’s going to be quite a wait, otherwise.”

            “Well . . . normally access is only by elevator . . . .”  The sales clerk looked at Antoine, at the dark, shoulder-length waves just touched with silver, his deep brown eyes and the narrow beard that traced his jaw line before expanding into a goatee and mustache framing his full lips, and she folded.  Never in her life had she seen such a beautiful man, and that smile!  The fact that this magnificent head topped an equally gorgeous body was almost too much.  Granted, he was dressed, but having been in the retail clothing business for over forty years, she could easily tell what kind of frame lay beneath his clothes. 

            Besides, she resented the recent influx of children almost as much as Antoine did.  She didn’t dislike children as a rule, but the parents did not keep track of them and were usually rude when asked to do so.  She was so tired of having to redo displays that had been pulled over and trying to clean grubby hand prints and cookie crumbs off the merchandise.  If this walking god needed help getting to his room, she was going to provide it, and the hell with the rules!

            “If you walk all the way to the end of this corridor and go left, you’ll see a door that leads to a service stairway.  That will take you up to the lobby, and you can use an elevator that doesn’t come down to this level.  If anyone questions you, you can just tell them you got . . . lost?”

            Antoine laughed.  “Grazie, signora, grazie.  I appreciate your help, and I swear to you, I will never reveal that you were my accomplice, even on pain of death!”  Raising her fingers to his lips, he kissed them gently before slipping out of the store and down the hall.  “Ye gods!” thought the clerk, watching him leave.  “I wonder how many of the female staff are dogtrotting around the place behind that incredible rump!”  If it took the saleslady some minutes to get her breath back and return to her duties, no one in authority was the wiser.

            He found the staircase with no problem and ran lightly up one flight to the lobby level.  Slipping through the door, Antoine was glad to see no hotel staff in sight.  He cut through the lobby, bestowing gracious “Good afternoons” on a number of panting female employees before reaching the central elevators.  Using these, he should be safe from the Stepford Sesame Street gang and their parents who were currently monopolizing the other lifts.  The doors opened and he stepped on, noting with pleasure that he had the elevator to himself before punching the button for the twenty-fourth floor.  Antoine often stayed on the top floor at any hotel, as that was where the most elegant suites were usually located.  Here, he’d taken the best they had, a two-bedroom layout that included a separate living room, dining room and kitchenette, as well as two and a half baths and a large balcony.

            To his disappointment, the elevator went only to the fourth floor before it stopped.  “If a pair of spawning yuppies and their genetically-engineered offspring get on this elevator, I shall not be responsible for my actions!” he thought.  However, when the doors parted, they revealed instead a solitary woman, reading a book.  Closing the book, she stepped on, glancing up at Antoine as she did.  The glance turned into a much longer look than she’d probably intended; for a moment, Antoine was irresistibly reminded of the phrase “deer in the headlights.”  Blushing, she broke eye contact and turned towards the front of the car, pressing the button marked “18.”

            Twenty years of making a living as a gigolo—a very successful, extremely expensive gigolo—had trained Antoine to catalogue a woman’s appearance instantly, as well as to assess her emotional and mental state from nonverbal clues.  They had been essential skills in his business.  How a woman dressed and groomed herself (or not) told him volumes about how she saw herself, and as his job had been to make every client feel beautiful, sensuous and desirable, understanding her self-image was critical.  The nonverbal clues: posture, eye contact, rate of breathing, whether or not there was heightened color in the face, tension or relaxation; all those helped him gauge his effect on a client and know just when it was time to move things along.

            True, the main struggle with some of the women had been getting them to keep their clothes on and their hands out of his pants until the meal or drinks were finished and he took them back to his condo, but that wasn’t always the case.  First time clients, especially, could be nervous and skittish, and the trick had been to seduce them subtly and slowly without frightening them.  Before they could make up their minds to run, Antoine had them under his spell, aroused and ready to proceed to the real reason they’d booked time with him.  He had enjoyed the process enormously, and if not all his clients were a delight, overall it had been a very pleasurable way to earn himself enough to live as he chose for the rest of his life.

            Now he found himself automatically evaluating the woman next to him.  She was of medium height, with very short, dark hair, a lovely oval face and a snub nose.  Her skin was fair, and the wide-set eyes which had locked on his a moment before were an unusual gray-brown.  Though narrower than was currently fashionable, her lips were delicately shaped and quite charming.  The light pink shirt was perfect with her coloring, and the trim cut of her washed cotton khakis flattered her shape.   She wore little makeup and had limited her jewelry to a woven silver bracelet and silver earrings in a Celtic knot pattern.  

            There was an overall impression of strength despite her slenderness and her posture was excellent; Antoine wondered if she were a dancer or studied yoga. He guessed her age to be somewhere in the mid-thirties.  “Very nice,” Antoine mused to himself.  “Very nice!  Goes for a simple, natural look during the day, but has taken the trouble to find a good hair style for herself and knows what clothes suit her.” 

            He was also certain that such a woman would have natural breasts, which excited him.  During his gigolo years, especially once he moved to Malibu, he’d handled more implants than he cared to think about.  They always felt unpleasant to him.  Indeed, so many of his clients’ bosoms had been artificially enhanced (not to mention the rest of them being lifted, tucked, bleached, suctioned, injected and bobbed) that every time he glanced at their cleavages the only words that came to his mind were “Silicone Valley.”

            What truly interested him, though, was her response to him.  It wasn’t simply that she had been struck by his good looks . . . there was more to it.  In the few moments when their eyes had met, he knew that she’d had an immediate, intense sexual reaction to his presence.  Antoine had experienced this phenomenon a number of times in his life, and it never failed to intrigue him.  Sometimes nothing came of it—the woman walked on, or circumstances (such as the presence of a husband) had made further interaction impossible.  Other times, he had managed to play on that first response and add a new client to his list.   But, now . . . now he was no longer bedding women for money, and this was the first time it had happened since he retired six months ago.

            Glancing carefully to his left, Antoine watched her.  The signs were all there: he could see her chest rising and falling rapidly, there was a warm flush to her cheeks and her lips were slightly parted.  Every so often, her eyes would close and she’d swallow hard, as though she were trying to collect herself.  Oh, yes, there was no mistaking it—this woman was on fire, and he’d ignited her.  Now she was trembling, holding her book to her chest and wrapping her arms around it tightly trying to stop the tremors. 

            Antoine was equally aroused; it was impossible not to be.  Knowing that this stranger was undoubtedly having fantasies about him as they traveled upward together in silence and seeing the need her body was displaying affected him powerfully.  His pulse quickened, and he felt the familiar heavy swelling between his legs.  What to do, though?  What to do?  Watch for her around the resort, begin a conversation, see what developed?  That would be the best way, he thought, the safe way.  After living for two decades dodging the law, Antoine was rather enjoying not having to look over his shoulder.  But . . . he missed the danger, too.  It had not only been the sex and the money that kept him in the gigolo business; he’d liked living outside the rules.

            Fourteen, fifteen . . . they were nearly to her floor.   The sexual tension in the elevator was almost smothering.  Antoine stood quietly, resolved to let her step off without speaking to her.  He’d look for her in the restaurants or by the pool and talk to her.  Striking up a conversation with a woman was second nature to him; it wouldn’t be a problem to get to know her.  If he let her walk away this time, he knew she’d be thinking about him and wondering if she should have said something.  In the end, she’d do half the work of seducing herself for him.

            Seventeen, eighteen.  The elevator stopped.   Shifting her book to her left hand, the woman leaned forward, ready to step out of the car.  As she moved towards the front of the elevator, her right hand swung back.  Suddenly, Antoine knew he had no interest in playing it safe.  In one fluid motion, he caught the swinging hand in his left as he reached out and slapped the emergency stop with the other.  The elevator jerked, and the woman gasped, dropping her book.  Roughly, Antoine turned her towards him and pulled her close.  Their eyes met again, hers wide with shock.  He took her face in his hands and kissed her, his mouth hard and hot, his lips already urging hers apart.

            She gave a startled squeak and tensed, just for an instant.  Then Antoine felt her body turn pliant, molding against him.  He deepened the kiss, forcing her mouth to yield to his.  His tongue swept into her mouth, plundering it.  This was not the slow seduction of romance—this was conquest.  Her arms slid around him, holding him close.  Antoine moved his hands from her face to her shoulders and down, landing at her lower back.  Holding her firmly, he pressed her body to his, delighting in the feel of her soft breasts against his body. 

            The woman whimpered into the kiss, and he let his hands slide lower, gripping her ass.  As he’d suspected, it was toned but still deliciously soft as he kneaded it.  He pulled hard, forcing her hips against his, letting her feel the massive erection that stretched upward across his belly.  She moaned and pulled back, breaking the kiss.  “No . . . no . . . please.  I can’t . . . .”  Antoine ignored her, releasing the emergency stop before wrapping one hand around the back of her neck and pulling her mouth to his.  She struggled for a second before yielding to him.  Her arms wound around his neck and she kissed him back with equal passion, her tongue meeting his, dueling and thrusting.

            Antoine felt the elevator stop.  The doors opened and he bent quickly to retrieve her book, one hand still on her hip. She moved away, frightened by what was happening and clearly shocked at herself.   Undoubtedly, having a sexual encounter with a total stranger was completely outside her normal behavior.  He pinned the elevator door open with one hip and scanned the hallway.  It was empty.  Reaching for her hand, he brought her close.  She was hesitant, but didn’t resist him.  Antoine cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face to his, leaning in until their mouths were almost touching.

             “Listen to me, cara,” he whispered, his voice low and intense, his eyes hot.   “I will not hurt you—I do not treat women that way.  But I do want you desperately, and I know that despite your reservations, you want me just as much.  Now, if you truly wish me to turn you loose, I will, and you can ride back down to your floor and wonder for the rest of your life what it would have been like in my bed.  Or, you can come with me to my suite, and I will make your body sing with pleasure for the rest of the afternoon.  The choice is yours.”

            He stared into her eyes, and saw her choose.  The fear and anxiety melted away, replaced by hunger.  Antoine smiled, a slow, knowing smile, before kissing her softly.  Then he stepped out of the elevator with the woman in tow.  He let go of her hand and slipped his arm around her waist, holding her against him.  They reached his door which Antoine quickly unlocked and opened, gently pushing her ahead of him into the suite.  She walked a few steps into the room, admiring the large, elegant rooms.  Antoine hung the “Privacy” sign over the outside door handle before closing the door and setting the deadbolt.  At the sound of the lock clicking into place, the woman turned abruptly, watching him with wary eyes.

            “I’m not locking you in, my sweet, I’m locking them out.”

            Antoine walked to where she stood and ran his fingertips across her forehead and down to her cheek.  Cradling her face in both palms, he kissed her very lightly several times, feeling the apprehension drain out of her.  He stood looking into her eyes, running his thumbs gently along her jaw and over her lips. “Would it help you relax with me to know my name?  Or would this be easier for you if we stayed anonymous?” 

            Her voice catching, the woman said, “Oh . . . a name, please!”

            He smiled, and kissed her softly, beginning at her mouth and moving in small steps to the sensitive area just below her ear.  “Antoine,” he breathed into her ear.  “My name is Antoine.”  Then he began tracing around the outer curve of her ear with the tip of his tongue, savoring the small gasps of pleasure he evoked.  Drawing back, he reached up and removed her earrings and set them on an end table before resuming his attentions to her ear.  He sucked the now-unadorned lobe into his mouth, teasing at it with lips and teeth until she was trembling against him.  Antoine worked the tip of his tongue into the deep hollow behind the base of the ear; he’d always found it to be an effective area to stimulate, and this time was no different–he had to catch her quickly as her knees buckled.

            “Easy, cara, easy . . . no fainting on me, now.  You’ll miss the best part!”  Antoine was standing directly in front of her, holding her securely.  Although he’d spoken in a light, teasing tone, he was actually watching her closely.  He knew from experience that if a woman’s emotions were running high, ramping up the level of sexual arousal could, indeed, make her faint.  The first time it happened with a client had been early in his career and it scared the hell out of him.  Fortunately, she revived within a few moments and had taken her faint as proof of his sexual skill, but he’d learned to watch for the signs of an imminent swoon.

            Blushing furiously, the woman stammered out an apology.  “I’m so sorry, Antoine, I just . . . I mean, you . . . .”  Suddenly she blurted out: “It’s just that you are really, really good at this!”  With a horrified squeak, she clapped her hands over her mouth and turned redder than ever at the realization of how schoolgirlish she’d sounded.  Antoine laughed, and tears welled up in her eyes.  Stumbling for the door, she mumbled, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here, I have to go . . . .”

            Antoine moved as silently and swiftly as a jaguar, putting himself between her and the door.  She stopped when she realized he was there, but stood looking at the floor, her lip quivering and her arms wrapped protectively around herself.  “No, please.  I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”  He raised her face tenderly, looking into her eyes with real contrition.  Then he removed his hand from her chin, not wanting her to feel he was using even the slightest physical force to keep her in his suite. “It was a very candid admission of what you were thinking, and it’s so rare these days to find a woman who’s that genuine and honest about her thoughts and feelings.”   Her face grew slightly less hurt, and he could no longer see tears in her eyes.

            “If you want to leave, I will in no way prevent you, my dear.  But, I’m hoping you won’t, that you’ll give me a chance to make up for my thoughtlessness.”  She stared at him, trying to determine if his apology were real or simply a way to keep her headed towards his bed.  When she made no move to leave, he continued.  “Will you stay?  Please?  And, you know, you never told me your name.  I’d very much like to know what to call you.”

            She must have decided to trust his sincerity, because the suspicious look left her face and her body relaxed.  “I’m sorry I overreacted.  This kind of . . . encounter . . . is all new to me—like you hadn’t already figured that one out!—and I felt about sixteen with that idiotic comment, and then you laughed . . . .” 

            “For which I’m truly sorry.  I don’t think you overreacted at all.  I was very rude. ”

            Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, hesitantly resting her hands flat on his chest.  Antoine smiled at her, and she pushed her hands up and over his shoulders until she had her arms around his neck.  Knowing it was now safe and she wouldn’t interpret his embrace as a threat, Antoine slid his arms around her, slowly pulling her close.  He kissed the tip of her nose, and when she laughed, he proceeded to enjoy some sweet moments at her mouth, kissing, nipping, running his tongue lightly over her lips.  “And your name, bella?  Am I to know it?”

            “Oh, yes . . . it’s Kate.”

            “Ah, that’s better!  Well, sweet Katerina, I would love to pick up where we left off, but perhaps we should move this to the bedroom before I spend any more time exploring your lovely ears, eh?  That way, if you get light-headed again . . . you’ll already be lying down.” 

            The look that accompanied his words was so electrifyingly sexual Kate thought she might climax right there on the spot.  Part of her was totally shocked at what she was doing, but she was firmly ignoring that silly self.  Her last relationship had ended because of arguments over sex.  Her lover had complained that she was unresponsive and uninterested in sex, which Kate had to admit was true most of the time.  But, who wouldn’t have been?  Mark always approached lovemaking like it was some kind of race in which the first one done, wins.  Despite his belief in his sexual prowess, he had less skill at foreplay than any man she’d ever been with and only very little more when it came to the main event.

            Now, she knew she was in the hands of a master.  How or where or with whom Antoine had gotten his sexual experience, she didn’t care.  The point was, he had it.  From the first instant she’d looked into his face as she boarded the elevator, Kate had been half-crazed with need—he simply radiated sexuality.  Except for when he had his arms around her, the man hadn’t ventured south of her collar bone, and she was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life!   Oh, wait. There was that heart-stopping moment in the elevator when he’d grabbed her behind and crushed their hips together, let’s not forget that! The size of what she’d felt pressed against her body had been both exciting and terrifying.  Antoine was definitely well-equipped.

            His kisses were like an incredible drug that somehow aroused and relaxed her all at the same time.  When he touched her face and throat with those long, elegant fingers, it felt as though every nerve in that area came to life, eliciting jolts of current that ran straight through her body and exploded between her legs.  Kate only hoped she didn’t faint dead away before they got to the really good stuff!  But, hey— she suspected Antoine had dealt with that before and probably knew some phenomenally sexy way to wake her up. She was quite certain that she was going to have the greatest sex she’d ever experienced, possibly the greatest sex she’d ever have in her life, and there was no way on earth she was going to walk away from this.  It had been well over a year since she and Mark had parted ways, and Kate hadn’t been with anyone since.

            “And, now, Kate, my girl,” she thought, “You’re going to end the drought with Hurricane Antoine!”

            He took her hand in his and led her into the master bedroom, Kate following more than willingly.  Antoine closed the door quietly behind her, and this time there was no anxiety in her eyes, only hunger and delight.  She loved how he moved—a fluid, easy walk that told her this man was comfortable with his body, in full control of it and able to use it skillfully.  As he came closer, she focused on his face.  How could Antoine be so incredibly good-looking and still so masculine?  It was the sensuality, she decided, the self-confidence.  Unlike the idiots she met in bars who came on as though they were every woman’s dream, this man’s self-assurance attracted rather than repelled, because he had the “credentials” to back it up.  He was breathtakingly beautiful in face and body and he possessed sex appeal beyond all reasonable limits . . . he actually was God’s gift to women.

            Antoine trailed his fingers down her throat and along the collar of her shirt to the top button.  His eyes never leaving hers, he began to undo the buttons with deliberate care.  Kate swallowed convulsively, hypnotized by the dark eyes before her.  When her shirt was fully opened, Antoine slid his hands inside it, caressing the soft skin on her stomach and sides.  Kate moaned quietly and clutched his upper arms, trying to keep herself on her feet.  She could feel the hard muscles beneath the crisp white fabric of his shirt flexing slightly in response to the movement of his hands on her body.  He continued upward, cupping her breasts through the satin of her bra and running his thumbs firmly over the already-hard nipples.

            “You like how I touch you, my sweet?  How my hands feel on you?”

            “Yes,” whispered Kate, her voice a rough whisper.  “So . . . nice . . . .”

            With a low chuckle, Antoine slid the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms until it fell to the floor.  He lowered his head to suckle at the curve where her neck met her shoulder as his arms went around her waist.   His hands drifted up and down her back and she shivered at his touch, feeling his warm fingers tracing over her shoulder blades and tickling gently at the small of her back.  Antoine continued kissing her shoulder, progressing slowly from her neck out to the curve of her upper arm before traveling back to her neck and across her throat to the other side.  As he kissed his way over her other shoulder, his hands came to a stop at the fastening of her bra. 

            It was the work of a moment to undo the hooks.  Kate froze, her eyes closed, knowing that somehow this was the real moment of decision.  If she let him undress her any further, there would be no stopping what was about to happen.  Then her eyes opened and she met Antoine’s penetrating gaze, his eyes as black and bright as obsidian, and any thought of backing out melted away.  She tilted her head upward, seeking the reassurance of his mouth.  He bent his head and captured her lips in a soft, sensual kiss, deepening it slowly and tenderly.  His tongue swept through her mouth, tasting her and caressing her.  Kate never even felt it when he slipped the bra down her arms and tossed it aside.

            Antoine was drawing on every bit of control he’d learned as a gigolo not to shove this delicious woman to the floor and ravish her violently.  He’d often had to delay his own pleasure to ensure the client had hers, and the training was proving very useful right now.  He was so hard it hurt; it took enormous restraint to keep his touch gentle and seductive.  Antoine suspected that Kate might well enjoy somewhat rougher handling before this coupling was over, but not yet.  She’d been very close to running from him, and he didn’t want to betray the trust she’d shown by choosing to stay.  Kate was so lovely . . . her strong, lithe body was driving him mad.  “Soon, Antoine, soon,” he told himself.  “A little longer and you’ll be buried in this luscious creature, but be soft with her, now . . . .”

            Taking hold of her arms, Antoine walked backwards towards the bed.  Kate let him draw her along, mesmerized by the kisses he continued to give her.  When he felt the mattress at the back of his legs, he turned from her just long enough to fling back the covers.  Then he scooped her up in his arms and laid her on the bed.  She lay back against the pillows, her breasts rising and falling with her rapid breathing.  Antoine stepped out of his shoes and removed his socks and belt before lying down next to her.  She looked up at him, her expression a mix of shyness and passion that touched and excited him. 

            Sliding one arm behind her neck to cradle her head, he began covering her face with light kisses.  He placed his free hand on her stomach, stroking the smooth warmth gently before moving his hand to her breasts.  Kate drew a sharp breath as his hand reached and caressed one silken mound, the breath quickly followed by a long moan of pleasure.  Antoine sighed with satisfaction at the feel of her flesh under his fingers.  Her breasts were not large, but the shape was lovely and the nipples were a deep rose that looked beautiful against her pale skin.  As he’d guessed, they were completely natural—no silicone added to their size or contour.  Both nipples were erect, the surrounding skin pebbled and puckered from her arousal.   Kate’s nipples were smallish and rounded; they reminded Antoine of delicious little gumdrops.  The mental image made him laugh quietly, but fearing she would misunderstand his reaction, he quickly nuzzled her neck and murmured, “You have beautiful breasts, Katerina.  Soft and real and quite delectable.”

            He let his hand go from breast to breast, caressing the skin, pressing and kneading gently at the soft globes, rolling, tugging and teasing her nipples to harden them still further.  Kate was in heaven.  She had very sensitive nipples—any attention to them radiated directly to her cleft—and Mark’s idea of giving them proper stimulation had been a couple of perfunctory rubs and a couple of quick sucks before getting on to “more important” things.  Under Antoine’s skilled, leisurely attention, Kate was feeling things entirely new to her.  Her nipples tightened and swelled as she’d never felt them do before; it seemed they were straining away from her breasts toward the man who touched them so knowingly.  A powerful tingling surged from the aching peaks through her body to her center, causing her hidden nub to swell and throb as well.

            Watching the surprised pleasure on her face as he enjoyed her breasts, Antoine realized that whoever had taken this woman to bed before were idiots.  Clearly, her nipples and breasts were extremely sensitive, and, just as clearly, they had never been given their proper attention.  He shook his head at the crass stupidity of men who were so anxious to have sex but had no interest in learning how to do it properly.  Much of his phenomenal success as a gigolo had been due to learning everything he could about women’s bodies and how they responded to sexual stimuli, whether that be a touch, a kiss, an erotic image murmured into their ears or knowing exactly the right moment to drive himself into their hot depths.  Antoine had acquired this knowledge early on, and the clients fell over themselves in their rush to pay for his skills.  He’d often thought that if American men started working harder at being good lovers, he would have much more free time on his hands.

            Antoine gave Kate a few lingering kisses before sitting up and beginning to unbutton his shirt.  “Oh, please . . . let me!” she said.  Smiling, Antoine spread his arms wide, giving her free rein.  She knelt in front of him, her hands shaking as she worked the buttons through the holes.  He reached out now and then to brush his hand along her breast or tweak a nipple, enjoying the way it made her jump and squeak.  Kate’s trembling increased when she saw what was revealed as Antoine’s shirt opened. 

            Ye gods . . . this man was a living, breathing sexual fantasy!  Caramel-colored skin flowing smoothly over shoulders, chest and belly that were strong and sculpted.  There were no obscenely bulging lumps of muscle whose purpose was solely visual. Antoine’s body was built for action—lean and tightly-knit, broad through the shoulders and chest, narrow and flat in the waist and abdomen.  Kate’s mind moved inexorably to what she couldn’t see, and suddenly the sweet dizziness returned and she sighed in anticipation.

            A knowing smile crossed Antoine’s face as he looked at her.  Moving closer, he wrapped his arms around Kate and lowered her back to the bed, kissing her deeply.  “I take it you approve, eh?”

            “Oh, my, yes!” Kate murmured once her breath returned.  She ran her hands down the back of his neck and over his shoulders, savoring the feel of his warm skin.  Antoine chuckled as stretched himself over the length of her body.  He supported his weight on one elbow, raising his upper body high enough that his chest just grazed Kate’s breasts, the other hand left free to wander over her face and body.  From the waist down, his weight lay fully against her, and he worked one powerful thigh between her two until it rested on her most intimate spot.  She shivered at the contact, unable to keep herself from pressing her center to the hardness of his leg. 

            Antoine trailed kisses down her throat and across her breasts, stopping for a few moments to nip and suckle before continuing down over her stomach.  He swiftly undid her pants, then tongued her navel sensuously before stripping her further.  Kate moaned, her fingers playing in his hair as waves of sensation moved outward through her body from Antoine’s wonderful mouth.  She felt him slide his fingers into her pants on either side and lifted her hips to help him remove them.  His lips moved slowly over her belly to the hollow of one thigh, where Antoine nuzzled at the sensitive flesh until Kate gave out with a sound that was half-giggle, half-gasp. 

            While his mouth pursued its course, Antoine’s free hand was everywhere, stroking, rubbing and caressing Kate’s eager body.  He had to ensure that she was truly ready very soon; his rock-hard erection was painful in the confinement of his pants and his need to ride this woman to their shared completion was overwhelming.  Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, Antoine stripped them off her hips and down her legs in one smooth sweep.  Kate drew a quick breath, and, for an instant, he saw her thighs press together in a nervous reflex.  Then she relaxed again and smiled up at him invitingly.  The smile did it . . . Antoine could wait no longer.

            He stood and quickly lowered his zipper, pushing pants and boxers down his legs in one motion before kicking them aside.  Kate watched him remove the last of his clothes with her heart pounding, unable to fix her eyes anywhere but his crotch.  When, at last, he stood naked in front of her, she again felt like a schoolgirl: very young, very inexperienced and very unsure of herself.  “Ye gods!” she mouthed silently, staring.  The beautifully-muscled stomach she’d already admired continued down into narrow hips and powerful thighs.  Where those thighs met, a patch of dark curls surrounded the base of his jutting shaft, which, to Kate’s awestruck eyes, looked far too large for her body to handle.  It was dark, nearly purple from the blood that filled it, with a clear drop of fluid clinging to the tip.

            Seeing the shock in her eyes—a look he’d seen many times before—Antoine moved swiftly next to her, enfolding her in his arms and kissing her over and over, sweeping his hands over her body.  Kate whimpered with need, wrapping her arms tightly around him and returning his kisses with ferocity, their tongues dancing and tasting.  She could feel the hunger in his hands and mouth, their touch growing rougher and more demanding on her flesh as her ache for him became unbearable.  Antoine moved on top of her, pinning her down, one hand tangling in her hair and pulling her head back sharply to give him full access to her throat and breasts.  Kate moaned as the strong fingers tugged at her hair.  It hurt . . . why didn’t she care?  Why did the hurt feel so wonderful?

            Her whole world became Antoine; he kissed, licked and stroked every inch of her body, nipping at her lips, suckling her breasts, leaving marks on her creamy skin.  Some of his bites were sharp, but when she felt the bright pain, Kate only bucked against his body in pleasure, groaning her acceptance of his actions.  She sensed her old self slipping away and a new Kate emerging, a wild, carnal Kate who desperately craved the release this man could give her.  She was lost in a place where rational thought disappeared and only pleasure remained . . . pleasure and need.

            He pushed her thighs apart with his knees and settled his hips against her.  His rigid manhood pressed against her wet cleft and Kate’s hips surged upward, rubbing herself along the tempting length.  Antoine grunted and hooked her knees over his arms, sliding himself up her body until she was nearly folded in half, her thighs stretched wide and her center fully open.

            “Guide me into you,” Antoine rasped, his voice harsh with passion.  “Now!”

            With a trembling hand, Kate reached down and caught hold of his throbbing shaft, nearly weeping with anticipation as she felt how incredibly hard it was.  She placed the head of his sex at her opening and gasped when Antoine pushed into her just enough to be sure of his path.

            “Hold on . . . !”  At his command, Kate’s hands moved upward, grabbing hold of the top edge of the mattress barely in time.  With a deep groan, Antoine drove into her, burying his entire length in one thrust.  A small scream tore from Kate’s throat; despite her desire and her body’s readiness, Antoine’s size and the force of his penetration had caused a brief, burning pain.  He froze, kissing her neck and murmuring words of comfort.  Though at the breaking point of his control, he’d not meant to hurt her . . . he just had to be inside her, deep inside her, as quickly as possible.

            “No . . . no,” moaned Kate.  “It’s wonderful . . . please . . . take me!  Just take me, Antoine!”

            Antoine needed no more urging.  He was crazed with lust, reveling in the still-new delight of bedding a woman because he wanted her and not because he was being paid for a good performance.  Kate had come into his room a hesitant, uncertain participant in this event; now, she was as wild as he was.  Drawing his knees under him for leverage, Antoine began thrusting powerfully, driving himself deeply into Kate’s hot, wet channel.  She moaned and panted under him, doing her best to meet his pounding hips.  Ducking his head, he seized a rigid nipple between his teeth, biting down hard enough to make Kate cry out.  The sound increased his madness; he wanted this woman to beg him again for her pleasure, to abandon every shred of control and give herself to him completely.  Antoine drew himself almost out of her and stopped, waiting.

            Kate whimpered, frantic at losing the wonderful, overwhelming sensation of Antoine’s shaft pounding into her.  She clutched at his shoulders, trying to push her hips upward enough to sheath him inside her again, but he held back, keeping just the head of his sex within her.  Looking up at him, she wondered what was wrong, why he’d stopped.  His face was unreadable, though his eyes burned liked black stars.  Desperation forced her to speak.

            “Antoine?  Why . . . ?  Please, don’t stop . . . I need you, Antoine, I need you.  I’m dying . . . please!” 

            The last word sounded as though it had been torn from her heart it was so desperate and pleading.  And that was what he wanted from her, what he needed, for some reason.  Antoine gave a muted roar and resumed plundering Kate’s body, thrusting into her hard, deep and fast.  The two of them panted and moaned, their bodies tightening more and more in anticipation of release.  Kate’s nails dug into his back while Antoine’s hold on her hips became bruising.  The room was filled with the sound of bodies slamming together and the low, animal noises of two people lost in pleasure.

            Suddenly, Antoine saw Kate’s expression change.  Her face took on a look of wonder as she reached the precipice of her release.  Then she screamed, crying out his name while her body exploded.  Her center contracted in hard spasms against his shaft and she trembled violently beneath him.  The sight of her in her orgasm, the feel of her channel tightening against his shaft drove Antoine over the edge.  He arched upward, frozen in that moment before release.  Then his body dropped over Kate’s once more, his hips driving hard as he climaxed and shot his seed into her in great, hot spurts.

            The two lovers collapsed, breathless.  Antoine could feel Kate still shuddering under him, gentle whimpers coming from her lips.  His heart was thudding almost painfully in his chest and he drew deep, shaking breaths, trying to regain some control.  Good God—that had been incredible!  He hadn’t experienced a climax like that in so long he’d forgotten what it was like to be totally lost in a woman.  As he slid out of her, he realized ruefully that not having such abandon was the price he’d paid for being so good at his profession.  While he’d always had his pleasure with clients, his focus had to be on satisfying them, on making sure that within the time booked by each woman she had the experience for which she was shelling out thousands of dollars.  Letting himself lose control had not been an option.

            But, now . . . ah, now was different!  He looked down at Kate, her face flushed and alive. The short strands of hair at her forehead were damp and beginning to curl. Watching her, he was filled with warm delight.  Her eyes were still closed, and he gently kissed each lid.  She smiled, then, a slow, sensual smile, before opening her eyes and meeting his gaze.  They were a fascinating color, he thought; the shade reminded him of the inside of a black olive.  Large and wide-set, her eyes were fringed with very thick, short lashes. 

            He loved her natural, un-fussy looks.  Everything about her had a gamine quality to it, from the wispy haircut and large eyes to her snub nose and delicate mouth.  Even her body fit the image, slender and fine-boned but strong and limber.  Antoine speculated that she’d look just the same first thing in the morning as she did last thing at night, and found himself very much wanting to see if he were right.  That was new, too.  Only rarely and only for very favored clients had Antoine ever booked sleepover appointments; he valued his privacy, and, since his apartment was also his workplace, the only way he got it was to make sure the clients didn’t hang around once their appointments were over.  He wanted to be paid and then he wanted them out of his home; still having to deal with them in the morning was something he almost never allowed.  This, woman, though, was another matter altogether.  

            “Are you all right, Katerina?”  Antoine murmured.  “I’m sorry for hurting you.  You just . . . you made me more than a little crazy, cara.”  Antoine caressed her face with his fingertips, following the trail of his fingers with light kisses.

            “Don’t apologize, please,” she answered quietly, raising her hands to bury them in his hair.  She massaged his scalp, making Antoine sigh with pleasure, rubbing more firmly at the base of his skull.  He let his head drop forward to rest on her shoulder.  Her hands were wonderful, strong and gentle at the same time, working out every bit of tension from his head and neck.  She drew him close to her, kissing his hair before speaking.  “It was a good hurt, Antoine, believe me.  That’s possible for a woman in lovemaking.  You made me feel things I never knew I could.  That was . . . ,” Kate paused, embarrassed but wanting to tell him how she felt.  “That was the most wonderful sexual experience I’ve ever had.  Thank you.”

            Antoine lifted his head to look at her, unexpectedly touched by her words.  It wasn’t the first time he’d heard them . . . it wasn’t even the hundredth, although “thank you” wasn’t always said.  Women hadn’t necessarily felt obligated to thank him for bringing them to ecstasy when they were paying Antoine’s rates.  But, he knew very well that his clients often reached levels of pleasure in his bed that were new for them, unexpected and intense.  Kate’s shy admission that she’d experienced a new degree of satisfaction with him meant something to Antoine.  Perhaps it was because all of this had happened spontaneously, two people who met on an elevator and acted on a sudden, powerful attraction.  Knowing that he’d made a difference to her filled him with tenderness.

            “You don’t need to thank me, bella.  It was very wonderful for me, as well.”

            When he saw the look of happiness on her face, Antoine was glad he’d told her that.   Kate reached up and framed his face in her hands, kissing him softly.  He immediately pressed his lips to hers again, tightening his arms around her as he parted her lips with his tongue.  The kiss became passionate, lingering—not fierce, but richly sensuous.  She felt so good in his arms, her mouth molding to his deliciously as their tongues moved together, now familiar with each other.  With slow deliberateness, Antoine broke the kiss.

            “I’m glad it was, you know . . . so good for you, too.”  Kate was a little breathless from the feelings that last kiss had evoked in her.  “I was, well . . . nervous.”

            “Why?”

            “Because you obviously really knew what you were doing and I don’t have very much experience.  I was afraid I’d . . . I was afraid I wouldn’t be ‘good enough’ at this for you.”

            Antoine laughed quietly and rolled onto his back, drawing her with him.  As she settled atop his body, he nudged her legs apart so they dropped to either side of his hips.  He wanted to keep her open to him, to have her body accessible to his.  His hands moved tenderly over her from buttocks to shoulders, enjoying the soft warmth of her skin.  She was looking at him hopefully, and he understood that she wanted him to reassure her that she’d truly satisfied him.

            “All the experience in the world doesn’t necessarily make a woman a good lover, Kate,” he said.  “It’s true passion that does it—being responsive to a man’s touch and showing him that you want him, that you need him.  That you gave me, and it was wonderful.”

            Kate smiled at him and kissed his chest before laying her head down on his shoulder.  Antoine savored the feel of her, relaxed and warm against him.

            “You know, Katerina, as much as it pleases me to hear that I’ve given you such satisfaction, I have to say that I don’t think the bar was very high.”

            Her head came up quickly, and she looked at him with confusion.  “What do you mean?”

            “I mean,” he continued, “that your response to my caresses told me, if you’ll forgive me for saying so, that you have not had terribly skilled or attentive lovers before now.”

            Kate blushed.  “No . . . I guess I haven’t.  I haven’t been intimate with very many men, Antoine.  Most of them just didn’t seem to be very interested in what I needed.  It was OK, sometimes, but not . . . not anything like it was with you.”

            “Then they were selfish bastards, Kate.  I can’t imagine taking you to bed and not caring enough to give you the most pleasure possible.  But . . . I’m being a little selfish, too, because I have to admit that I’m rather pleased by this discovery.”

            Now Kate looked a bit hurt as well as confused.  “Pleased?  Antoine!”  She rolled off of him and sat up.  “Why would you be pleased to know I’ve had lousy lovers?”

            Antoine reached out and pulled her close again, pressing the length of her naked body against his.  “Because, my dear, it means that there is so much you’ve never experienced, and I can be the one to teach you just what your body is capable of!”

            For a moment, Kate was stunned.  She stared at Antoine, disbelieving.  “You don’t mean,” she whispered, “You don’t mean that it can get . . . better?  Better than what just happened?”

            “Oh, my lovely Katerina!  I have only begun to show you what can happen between a man and a woman.  By tomorrow morning, you will have seen a whole new world!”

            “Tomorrow morning?  You want me here all night?” To Kate’s chagrin, the last word came out as a squeak.  “I thought . . . you said the afternoon before . . . .”

            Antoine paused, assessing her expression carefully.  “No pressure,” he thought.  “Let her come to you as she chooses.”

            Aloud he said, “I did, and if you want to keep it to that, I will be glad to have your company for these few hours and you may leave as you choose.  But,” he leaned in, kissing her slowly, “I would very much like you to stay.  I enjoy you, cara, not just your body—you.  You’re sweet and funny and honest and being with you makes me happy.   I want you here with me through the night and to wake beside you tomorrow.  Mornings can be,” his eyebrow arched roguishly, “. . . very special.  It is up to you.”

            Kate touched his face, her eyes shining.  “Oh, I want to stay, Antoine.”  Then her smile turned impish.  “You know, I’ve never been much of a morning person, but perhaps you can change my mind about that!”

            With a deep growl of pleasure, Antoine surged against her, pushing Kate onto her back and pinning her to the bed. Her delighted squeal was quickly muffled as Antoine’s mouth covered hers in a deep kiss.  The next lesson had begun . . . .

The End