Katerina in Charge

Chapter One-1

Chapter One

No one at the party was paying much attention to the two girls sitting high above them on the carpeted stairs. Drinks in hand, they seemed content to be just sitting side by side, watching the action below from their superior perch. The prettier of the two, a slim blonde in a narrow blue dress, was the first to move. She straightened alertly when the door opened to admit a few newcomers.

“Ummmm...who is that?” Crissy asked, practically smacking her lips with feminine interest as her big blue eyes took in the new arrivals over the rim of the glass she held to her lips.

Margot followed her friend’s pointed gaze to the doorway where a blond man with the boyish good looks of a Robert Redford, was introducing his companion to Roger and Cynthia.

“Oh, that’s Skylar Elliot, super rich, boy-wonder, started one of those high tech companies in the valley; sold it to Raytheon... made millions.”

“Hummm.” Crissy considered that. The couple was making a little stir among the guests as they made their way through the crowded floor. Heads turned to follow them with mild curiosity.

“And who’s that with him?” she asked, lifting a little finger towards a severe-looking brunette with rangy shoulders, her tall lean figure clad in a sharply tailored black pin-striped suit complete with boutonnière. The severe-looking woman glided through the crowd with the raised chin and stately poise of a runway model, as her companion, freely giving his dazzling smile right and left, seemed content to trail behind.

“That’s Katerina... Katerina Lattimore...she’s a photographer. Freelance…works for fashion magazines.”

“She’s old enough to be his mother,” Crissy sniffed, noting the way the perfectly-poised woman wore her close-cropped black hair, thickly gelled, slicked back and stylish. In spite of her catty remark, Crissy had to admit the woman had a mature beauty; no longer young, but maybe in her early 40s. In any case, an older and more mature; but there was something about the woman. She had a striking presence: people noticed her the minute she walked into the room. And the way she moved! She had that certain savoire-fare, holding herself proudly erect. Katerina Lattimore had a kind of indefinable sophistication that, for all of her 23 years, Crissy knew, with a sigh, she could not hope to match.

As they watched, the tall woman was greeting a stout, balding man who seemed unsure if he should shake, or bow and kiss and the lady’s proffered hand.

Margot saw the look in her friend’s eye, and couldn’t help smiling to herself. Not for the first time, she appraised the other girl’s profile; those finely etched features: the high cheekbones, crispy sculpted nose, and small chin, the pretty blue eyes under the even row of bangs; the way her pale silky hair, fell straight and even, spilling over her narrow shoulders in loose disarray. Margot shook off the twinge of envy that shot through her, and quickly turned back toward the couple.

“If you’re thinking of making a move on that one, you’re gonna have to stand in line,” she smirked. “From what I hear he’s a real ass hound..has ‘em lined up... a regular parade of women, according to Alicia... ready to drop their drawers whenever he waves his little finger. At least that’s what she says. She also says,” she continued, leaning closer and lowering her voice, “that he’s into the all that kinky stuff, you know, whips and chains, that sort of thing. But then, well... you know Alicia.”

Crissy raised an eyebrow at this last bit of news, and regarded the interesting guy with even greater appreciation.

“And those two got a thing goin’?”

“Dunno?” Margot shrugged. “They often seem to be together, but he definitely plays around... as far as I know,” she added less certainly. “Look! There’s Bryce!” exclaimed Margot, happy to change the subject. “Let’s go down and say ‘Hello’.”

“No, you go; I’ll be down in a while.”

Margot gave her companion a dubious look, which Crissy never saw. For the blond girl now sat as though entranced with her gaze on the scene below, heels set side by side on the lower step, raised knees together, the almost empty glass of gin forgotten in her cradled hands. She was studying the handsome male in the well-tailored suit. He had a great body and she liked the way he moved his shoulders as he made his way so easily through the crowd, like a successful politician.

Now he was mingling with the guests; shakings hands with the men, favoring each woman he came in contact with his confident friendly manner. As the couple made their way closer to the stairs she noticed his hazel eyes; always smiling and wonderfully gentle. That grin of his that came so easily, made her want to smile.

He was almost directly below the stairs now, hovering over a perky, flat-chested brunette in a black cocktail dress. He seemed to be telling her some story, for she was looking up at him, an attentive, eager audience. At what must have been the climax, Crissy saw him reach out to touch her on the arm as they both laughed. His hand lingered there for a moment longer, the fingers reluctantly leaving the bare arm, leaving her was a farewell caress, that would linger well after the laughter had subsided. It was a brief moment, hardly noticeable, an innocent gesture no doubt, yet one that Crissy knew the girl would remember, and very possibly wonder about. Had something passed between them?

Not far away the imperious Katerina Lattimore was holding court. The gaunt cheekbones with those dark hollowed eyes, eyes gave the woman an almost haunted look. Crissy had to admit the men’s-style clothes she wore so well: the white shirt and trim jacket, narrow trousers, and polished oxfords, could have been a little too obvious a statement, yet it was one she managed to bring off rather well. But that red carnation, well, it really was a bit much!

Not particularly pretty either, Crissy decided, turning on her critical attention. Yet, undoubtedly, men were drawn to her. All that is except for her attractive escort, the guy with the compact shoulders and tousled good looks, who seemed to be paying her scant attention. He tended to stray; never really near her, yet never too far away, like a captured comets that finds itself in eccentric orbit around some distant star.

Crissy wondered about the two of them. Was he free, and just how free? She meant to find out. She set the drink aside, stood up, smoothened down her form fitted dress, and started down the stairs to find her hostess.

It didn’t take Crissy long to corner Cynthia, and express her interest in meeting the handsome young millionaire. Cynthia, with her usual bubbly enthusiasm, loved the idea of course, and immediately took her guest in tow, guiding her towards the place where he stood at the edge of a loose circle of people.

The exuberant hostess barged into the circle, beaming at them all, lavish with apologies as she took him by the hand and led him away, calling out over her shoulder that there was someone he ‘just had to meet.’ Crissy heard herself introduced as: “one of my very best friends.”

And now, as he stood before her, she could see that he wasn’t as tall as he seemed to be. But he was well-built, with a squarish face, and deep set eyes that beheld her with definite interest. She offered her hand and let him take it in his, and immediately his eyes raked up and down her body. She felt herself warm to the appreciative look she saw in his eyes as he took in her slender form in the narrow blue dress. There was a welcoming gentleness in those pale eyes, as though he would scoop her up on the spot.

Cynthia, smiling at the two of them like a smug matchmaker, now melted into the background, and Sky offered to get her a drink. And so it had begun.

Thinking back on it, Crissy couldn’t remember much about that first encounter, only the intensity of those hazy blue eyes: eyes that she could lost in; eyes that were drinking her in. The man was Insatiable! (she shuddered at the thought). She heard herself rattling on, feeling that what she was saying was all wrong, trying desperately to please him. He said very little, watched her, a half smile on his lips, his eyes silently questioning her, curious. ‘Who are you’, and ‘what do you want of me’, his eyes seemed to be asking.

At one point she saw his gaze flicker to find a place somewhere over her shoulder. He had to leave, he said abruptly. And could he give her a call sometime? Crissy tried to hide the wild elation that shot through her. She scribbled her number on a scrap of paper and watched him slip it into his pocket without looking at it. Then, giving her something to remember him by, he flashed her a big smile as he moved away; she watched him making his way through the crowd to where the lanky dark-haired woman stood waiting by the door.

***

She waited to hear from him, hoping so desperately for his call; worried sick that call would never come. And when the call did come, after a long two weeks, she was wildly excited.

She was thinking about Sky now as she stood in the pounding shower with hands at her side, letting the needle spray beat rhythmically on her shoulders, pirouetting slowly under the driving rain. She let the water run through her hair, down her face. She closed her eyes and savored the picture of him, undressing in her bedroom, as she lay on the bed with head propped up on one hand, just watching as he bent over to run his briefs down his strong straight legs.

They had left the lights on. That’s the way he wanted it. When she first started to turn out the lights, he stopped her. He wanted to see her undressing for him, while he, still clothed, supervised her every move as she slowly stripped for him.

Only once she was naked, would he stand up to undress. Her eyes took in the sinewy muscles of his legs and tight buttocks, as he straightened up and turned to her. She loved the way he moved; the smooth power of those well defined shoulders, the slight taper of his torso as it narrowed to where trim waist flared to the cradle of his compact hips; those strong, muscular thighs. She smiled appreciatively at the flat-muscled belly; the fringe of wispy pale hairs that ran up its centerline to splay out in a matted plume across his smoothly-muscled chest.

She couldn’t help staring at his c**k, positioned very nearly at eye level. Nestled in a rich thicket of fine silvery hairs, the semi-swollen p***s hung hypnotically before her. Drooping slightly, as though nodding in repose; it swayed heavily as he moved. She felt the urge to see it awaken, to come alive to her touch, to rise up before her very eyes with the first stirrings of masculine arousal.

He saw where her eyes were going; his lips curled in a knowing grin. Stepping up to the bed, he brought his heavy s*x even with her eyes, and took his p***s in hand. Loosely cradling it, he began to finger his swelling prick into full prominence. Looking down on the girl, he fingered his lengthening c**k until it began to stiffen with the emerging power of male potency. Soon he had his hardened prick upstanding; smooth and powerful, a proud c**k that now stood poised just inches from Crissy’s fascinated eyes. A pang of hunger shot through her loins.

She closed her eyes to savor the memories: laying with her head on his bare chest, running her fingers through his fine chest hair and easing her hand down his solid front to tease lightly over his too-ready prick, tracing the outline of that throbbing shaft down to his crotch where her inquisitive fingers found his balls. She held him in her cupped hand, squeezed gently. She began fondling his balls, rolling them in her palm, while she used her thumb to rub along his scrotum, bringing a helpless groan to the tantalized man’s lips.

Standing there now in the shower, with eyes closed, Crissy felt her knees weaken as a wave of lust welled up in her with the intensity of the gripping memory. Instinctively, a well-lathered hand rose up to close on her left breast. And as she swayed under the warm pounding spray, she threw her head back and languidly caressed her small breast, moving it, lightly squeezing, pleasuring herself while she reveled in her fantasy of fondling her well-hung lover. In that manner, Crissy came.

Once out of the shower, she toweled off briskly, moving quickly now, tingling with excitement at the thought seeing him again tonight. She was especially eager, looking forward to this date, since it would be the first time he had agreed to let her see his place, and she thought of that as a sort of milestone in their relationship.

Usually he picked her up in the cream-colored Mercedes. Or he would suggest some quiet restaurant where she would meet him for dinner and drinks, eventually ending up at her apartment. After a half dozen or so dates that followed this same pattern, she began to wonder why he never suggested his place, and she grew increasingly curious. He always wanted to go to her apartment, and it was to her bed that they went to make love, with him usually leaving well before morning. He seemed evasive when she questioned him about it; she let it go. Still, she couldn’t help wondering.

But then a few days ago when he had called, he surprised her by suggesting she come to him, that is, if she didn’t mind a bit of drive up the coast. Of course she readily agreed, and jotted down the directions he gave her -- directions to an address in a very exclusive, if remote area north of Malibu.

***

Fresh from the shower, with a towel wrapped around her head, the slender blonde padded across the bedroom carpet and began rooting through the dresser drawers for the right underwear. She dug through the jumble of thongs to find a pair of salmon-tinted hip huggers, fingering the soft silky fabric experimentally. Next, she dug out a pair of thigh highs stockings still in their cellophane package. She stepped into the panties and plunked down on the bed to put on the nylons. She had bought them just for him, as Crissy wore pantyhose and didn’t even own a pair of stockings till she met Sky. He made his preferences plain. Well, if they turned him on, why not? She did admit, they made her feel kind of sexy.

She examined the sheer honey-tinted hose, stretching the wide darker top bands with her splayed fingers, appreciating the generous border of delicate lace that edged the topmost band. Slipping a stocking on, she drew the sheer nylon up her extended leg and smoothened the elastic band into place. She repeated the operation with the other nylon, pleased to see they came well up her thighs where the elasticized tops fitted snugly when in place. Then she turned to find the matching bra.

She slipped her arms through the wispy brassiere, then caught sight of herself in the mirror as she was bending over, coaxing her maidenly breasts into the dangling cups while reaching back to clip the strap behind her. She liked pretty lingerie, she decided, straightening up and smiling at the reflection of her supple chest, adorned as it was with the lacy cups of lustrous pink satin.

Now she sat before her mirror carefully applying her makeup. Her brow knitted in concentration as she penciled in the pronounced arches of her slender upswept brows, gradually darkening the twin arcs. She shadowed her eyes, shading her long fine lashes, dusting the lids with specks of turquoise. Next, she selected lipstick, a frosted pink -- bold, a fun lipstick; for that was how she was feeling. Carefully she defined the double arch of her upper lip; suggested a pout, and traced the graceful curve of her protruding lower lip. Then she pressed her lips together, blotting her compressed mouth with a tissue. Trying a plasticine smile that showed her perfect white teeth, she pronounced herself satisfied with the results.

Her hair was still a little damp so it was easy to comb, and settle the front bangs with short choppy strokes. She studied the results with a critical eye, then pleased, smiled brightly and stood up to find a dress.

Crissy thought she looked particularly good in pastels, like the clinging knit dress of soft lime green, a favorite of hers because it fitted so well, molding her haunches and flattering her slender figure. It was short; but really, not too short, she told herself, somewhat defensively. So what if the hemline rode a few inches above the knee? Short dresses were ‘in’ this year. And besides, if a girl had good legs, and didn’t mind showing them off ..well..why not?. She gave the hemline a final tug now, and smoothed the dress down over her slight contours.

Slipping on a pair of sleek brown pumps, she smiled at the reflection one final time, giving herself a quick nod of approval. Digging through her purse she found his directions, folded the piece of paper and tucked it safely away. Then she grabbed her keys and headed out into the warm and windy night.