The Mule: An Erotic Romance in Colombia Read online

  “Those caws are parrots,” he said. “ That monkey you saw earlier? He’s a cotton-top tamarin. The parrots fight with the cotton-tops over fruit. That screaming you hear now is a cotton-top protecting his territory, or maybe complaining about being robbed by a parrot or a fellow monkey.”

  He fell silent so she could focus on the sounds of the wild. To calm her, he was stroking her hair, running his hand down her arm. He’d been thinking about this moment ever since he’d heard about her arrest and decided to step in. He couldn’t face the idea of that lovely, lively girl being buried alive in a local jail.

  Now it had finally come, he wondered if he’d gone over the edge. This whole idea was crazy. But when he felt her relax finally under his touch, when he considered how thin she’d become in just three weeks, he decided that he had been right after all. She wouldn’t have made it. Even if she’d survived physically, and that was extremely unlikely, eight years in jail would have destroyed her. Calling in his favours and getting her here had been the right decision.

  Connor also knew he needed her. He liked being alone but he knew he was turning in on himself in an unhealthy way. Dislike for what he’d done and what he’d become was turning into poisonous self-loathing. Having the girl around would force him to be more social. He’d have someone to talk to, someone who would want to go out and about, rather than sit in this house for months on end. The girl would also stop him from drinking himself to sleep every night. He needed her to get him back into his normal self but he’d have to remember to be gentle with her. She wasn’t nearly as hard as he had anticipated. Very quietly, he began telling her about the jungle animals she was hearing.

  Sitting in his lap, Cleo slowly relaxed. Being clean, quiet and comfortable again was oddly unsettling but the way he was stroking her hair and gently massaging her arms as he chatted quietly was soothing. He wasn’t grabby and squeezing her tits or trying to get his hands between her legs like the punters always did. He was gentle, respectful even. She could feel the tension leaving her shoulders.

  Slowly the peace soaked into her, replacing the exhaustion and fear of the last few weeks. Cleo looked up into Connor’s face. He was smiling slightly and looking quite approachable.

  “Feeling a bit better?” he asked her.

  Cleo nodded. “This morning I was going to kill myself,” she confessed.

  “No need for that now,” Connor said firmly.

  “Yeah. I just wanted to say I’m grateful you got me out.”

  Connor gently stroked her hair. Poor girl. It was a shame. He smiled at her reassuringly. “You’ve had a bad time but that’s over now. We’ll be good friends, Cleo. So no more thoughts about killing yourself, alright?”

  “Yes.”

  He picked up his drink. “Have a sip.”

  The sweetly citrussed rum exploded in her mouth, making her gasp for breath.

  He smiled slightly and took a drink himself. “The rum is made just down the road.” He finished it and handed it to her. “Make me another and find yourself something to drink. Not booze. Milk or a soft drink.”

  Cleo went to the kitchen. She debated whether to take a gulp of rum out of the bottle but decided she’d better not. The way her stomach was churning, it might make her sick. Milk didn’t sound appealing either but, digging around in the fridge, she found a tin of ginger beer She hadn’t seen any since she was a child.

  When she got back, it was dark. Like in town, sunset in the mountains was a rapid event.

  Connor took the glass from her and pulled her back into his lap. “Tomorrow you can have a drink but tonight you’d better take it easy.”

  “All right,” Cleo said shyly. He was stroking her hair again. When she looked out, it was impossible to see anything in the canopy.

  He half turned in his chair and switched off the porch light. Instantly plunged into darkness, Cleo gasped at the stars overhead that instantly burst into view. She’d never seen so many. It was like that time she’d been to the planetarium at school.

  They sat in the dark, looking at the stars. Cleo was the view as much as his comforting touch. Before she knew it, she found herself dozing quietly, her head on his shoulder and her arms folded against his chest. Connor let her sleep for an hour. The poor girl was absolutely exhausted.

  When she stirred and woke up, he offered her one more sip from his drink and then finished it. Time to see if this was going to be all right or a total disaster. Given the girl was a semi-pro and that he liked what he’d seen of her so far, it should be all right but Connor decided that if they proved totally incompatible, he’d call in his favours and send her back to London.

  Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. This whole crazy venture had been a pain to organise, and it wasn’t as if girls were queing up to live in the middle of nowhere. If this didn’t work, he would be on his own again. He wasn’t sure he could deal with that.

  Connor put the glass down and stood her up. “Come on, Cleo. It’s been a long day. Let’s go to bed.”

  Her heart started beating so loudly that she could hear it drumming in her ears as he steered her into his room, his hands firmly on her shoulders.

  The bed still looked huge but now it took on a sinister aspect. Cleo looked at the four posters, noting each was carved with flowers and vines as well as birds, butterflies, parrots and snakes. They all seemed to leer at her devilishly.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and stood her in front of him. Quickly, before she could say anything, he began to take off her top. He noted the shiver that went through her. “You all right?” he asked softly.

  She nodded and tried to smile. Just another live audition, she told herself. Look like you’re enjoying it. She put her hands on his shoulders. “You’re very strong,” she said mechanically, “do you work out?”

  Connor laughed. It was the perfect corny line of the professional girl. “I do a lot of gardening. Does that count?” He tugged the skirt down and dropped it to the floor. When he’d first seen her, he’d thought she was a teenager. Then he’d added ten years. Now he could see her properly, he added another five.

  He could see little lines around her eyes and across her throat but she had a good body: long legs, perfect ankles and a lovely waist and voluptuous bottom. Her breasts were small but beautifully formed. But she was far too thin. Her ribs were showing. He would have to feed her up. “Didn’t you eat at all in lockup?” he asked her.

  She shook her head. “I got sick.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “You knew?”

  “The guards told me. Who do you think sent you a doctor?”

  “Oh.” So it hadn’t been Ffrench. She should have known. Ffrench had probably dismissed her from his mind as soon as his paperwork was completed. People like him never cared about people like her.

  Connor was taking off her bra and panties. That was odd, usually she did a strip as part of the audition. It brought it home to her that this was different. This wasn’t something she could walk away from in ten minutes time and forget.

  When she was naked and while he stared at her body, Cleo wanted to turn away. This was difficult. Much more difficult than she remembered. It would have been better if she’d had a line to help her. She made herself stand still as he ran his hand down between her legs.

  “Nice sphinx,” he murmured. “I like the hairless look.”

  Juan had loved it too. Cleo forced herself not to think of him. He must still be mad with her. He hadn’t even sent her a message when she’d been sentenced. Now she was out, she could find a way to contact him. Explain it was all a mistake.

  Connor was rubbing a hand over her bottom. She took a breath and tried to clear her mind. Focus on getting through the next moment, she told herself. You’re stuck here for now. Connor got you out and you promised to do this so pay attention, smile and pretend to enjoy it. But then he stood up and undid his belt. A nasty thought flashed through her mind. “No beating,” she said hastily.

  He was aware of the wave of irritatio
n that washed over him. Any little thing triggered his god-awful temper these days. He pushed the feeling away. It wasn’t as if the girl knew him. Her concern was perfectly reasonable.

  Looking at her, he was interested to see she was squaring up to him. She was so patently nervous that it was a surprise to see she was quite brave.

  “I wasn’t even thinking of it.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Don’t forget that you agreed,” he said mildly. “No refusals, remember?”

  “I was desperate.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully, wondering how her mind worked. “What do you have to offer me?”

  “What?”

  “If this is a negotiation, what can you give me?”

  “Nothing. Except I said slave and you said pet. Do you beat your pets?”

  He smiled slightly. She wasn’t stupid after all. That was a nice surprise too. When she shivered again, he put out a hand and brushed her cheek. “I said I wouldn’t do you any harm, remember? I meant it. So you can relax.”

  “Erm, there’s also, erm...”

  “What?”

  “I don’t like being peed on,” Cleo said hastily.

  Connor stared at her, quite taken aback. “That’s not something I’ve ever done,” he said honestly. “And I don’t think I’m interested in trying it.”

  Cleo blushed. “People can be into weird stuff, you know? They look perfectly normal and you can’t tell until it’s too late. I’m always being caught out.”

  She had no idea that her artless statement confirmed everything Ffrench and the newspapers had said. Bedding strangers was part of her life but from her nervousness she wasn’t a hard-boiled pro. “I won’t hurt, humiliate or abuse you, promise,” Connor said gently.

  “Right.” she was trying to be cool. If she kept calm, it would be over quickly. “Where are the condoms?”

  “Unnecessary. Why do you think the doctor did that blood test?”

  “Oh.”

  “Have you been taking the pills he gave you?”

  “Yes.” For the first time she understood how carefully he’d planned this. “You thought of that too?”

  “Of course. I like to do things properly.”

  Cleo stared at him. She wondered how many others there had been but, as she was about to ask him, he opened up the bedside drawer and brought out a handful of cotton scarves. Cleo swallowed nervously. He was a perv.

  Connor had put the packages he’d bought in Medellin neatly to one side of the drawer. He opened one up, and took out a blue satin blindfold.

  “You’ve played games before?”

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded hoarse.

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Sure,” Cleo lied. She didn’t want to say that it had scared her witless and that had been with men she’d known and liked. With this stranger, she knew she’d freak. “My safeword is elephants,” she offered.

  “No safewords, Cleo.”

  She shivered. “I thought you had to have them?”

  “The vanilla crowd do,” he said coolly. “I don’t like others setting limits.”

  Oh hell, Cleo thought. That’s why he wanted me. He wants someone who can’t say no. To anything. He said he wouldn’t hurt me but maybe that’s just lies. What’s he going to do to me? She could feel her stomach twist and turn over.

  Connor saw her shiver and instantly felt horribly guilty. “I’m sorry,” he apologised. “Cleo, sit down a sec and talk to me.”

  Trembling, she sat on the side of the bed.

  Connor put an arm around her. “I’m used to girls who like to live on the wild side,” he explained. “They’re risk takers. I can see you’re not, so use your safeword if you like.”

  Cleo breathed again. “Thanks.”

  “You’ve had some experience of this?”

  “Erm, yes.”

  “Was it with the man who peed on you? Or the one who beat you?”

  “No, they were different people.”

  Briefly he wondered how many partners she’d had. Still, it wasn’t important. The tests showed she was clean. “I’ll make sure you have a good time. Promise.” He took out a long peacock feather and what looked like a lipstick. “Lie down on the bed.”

  Cleo lay down and watched him carefully. He was smiling at her in a friendly way. This is the man who got you out, she thought to herself. She lifted her chin and smiled back at him.

  “This is all about you,” Connor said quietly. “I want to find out how you enjoy yourself.”

  That sounded all right, Cleo thought.

  He fitted the mask over her eyes and rubbed a finger gently over her cheek.

  Cleo noted he’d taken off his belt and shoes but he’d kept his clothes on. So he wasn’t going to jump her right away. It was a relief. Then she tensed and shivered as the feather touched her cheekbones and slowly trailed over her lips.

  “Ticklish?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. She felt the lipstick trace lines where the feather had tickled. The feather moved inexorably down her body, brushing gently over her skin. The lipstick marked her neck, nipples, the undersides of her breasts, her waist, navel, inner thighs, backs of her knees and the soles of her feet. When he turned her over, he marked her wrists, the tops of her thighs, the line of her buttocks, the inner bones of her shoulder blades and the back of her neck.

  She felt him put away the lipstick and feather and wondered what was coming next. She must look like a Red Indian by now, all streaked in war paint.

  He was tapping her skin with his fingertips, touching the lipstick lines with a light touch. It was curiously impersonal; like being massaged. Then Cleo realised that the lipstick marked all of her pleasure centres. As he moved over her body, the tapping turning into gentle massage, with his hands moving from one sweet spot to another, Cleo felt herself unwind and finally relax into buttery deliciousness.

  He turned her over, noted the tranquil breathing and smiled. This was going to work well. He took his time completing his exploration. She was too thin but her skin was beautifully soft and her muscle tone excellent; it was a body conditioned by years of professional dancing. She was clearly enjoying his touch. Her muscles were totally loose and her breath was slow, deep and even.

  He leaned over and picked up one of the scarves. He was dying to go to town but decided to keep it simple; she was nice and calm now, he didn’t want to frighten her.

  “We’re going to take this nice and slow,” he told her softly. “If you get frightened, just say, ‘elephants’, remember?”

  “Hmmm.”

  He crossed her wrists in the small of her back and tied them together. Her breathing quickened so he gentled her by rubbing the lipsticked lines along her shoulder blades, being careful to lean against her so she’d remember he was still fully dressed. When she relaxed again, he turned her over and settled her in the middle of the bed. Then he spread her legs wide, tying each ankle to a spot about two feet up on the posterns, just above the parrots. The bulky carving would keep her legs up in the air nicely. Connor had never liked the bed but tonight he appreciated it did have its useful points.

  She was feeling panicky again. She could feel her heart beating wildly in her throat. Her chest was so tight that it was hard to breathe.

  For a moment, she thought he was going to pounce. She felt acutely vulnerable.

  “You alright, Cleo?” Connor asked softly.

  “Yes.”

  “Remember you can say stop any time. Or elephants.”

  “Ok.” She breathed again. He was being very nice. “I’m good.”

  He reached into the drawer again and brought out the package with the butterfly vibrator. He rubbed her stomach briefly. “You will like this,” he murmured as he tied the soft laces round her waist, then flicked the remote control to the first setting. As it began to buzz, he saw her gasp and tense. He lay down next to her curling his legs underneath her thighs.

  Cleo felt his jeans against her skin. Maybe he wasn’t planning
to have sex. Maybe that’s why he said this was all about her. The vibrator felt good. His fingers were tapping her skin again. His touches were feather light.

  Cleo slowly relaxed again. The blindfold meant she lost track of time. A million years later, small ripples of pleasure began to tingle through her.

  When he saw she was beginning to enjoy herself, he rubbed a finger over her lips. “Don’t come until I tell you.”

  Cleo nodded. This was familiar. That’s what Peter had liked too and it was going to be easy, she thought. This felt good but there was no way she’d come. Not with this stranger. She would do what he wanted, fake an orgasm, wait till he was asleep and then go to the other room. It would be bliss to sleep in a real bed.

  She was distracted from her thoughts when he started running his fingers over her again. The gentle touch combined with the buzzing over her clit sent delicious shivers running through her body. He clearly wasn’t in a hurry.

  Gradually the shivers built into deep warmth. His lips replaced the softly massaging fingers. As he leaned over her, kissing her body softly, she sighed at the gentleness of it. He didn’t kiss her on the mouth but he nuzzled the underside of her breasts and gently licked her nipples. Cleo tensed and moaned. Surprisingly, not being able to move was no longer scary. Instead, it added to the pleasure. She didn’t have to participate; all she had to do was go with the flow.

  Slowly, she drifted into a delicious haze where his every touch set tingles of delight shimmering through her. It was like swimming in the dark, a feeling of floating freedom. Gradually the tingles pooled and gathered, setting a pulse beating between her legs. When he lapped his tongue in her navel and lightly ran his hand up over the butterfly, the feeling was so erotic that she tensed and came.

  Her instinct was to cuddle into him but she couldn’t move. She also became aware of his sudden stillness.

  “You came without permission,” he murmured.

  Cleo stiffened. Was he mad at her? “I’m into instant gratification,” she said without thinking. She couldn’t see his sudden smile.

  “We’ll have to work on that,” he said softly. “Your punishment,” he could feel her sudden fear and cursed himself for using the word. Quickly he added, “is to do it all again. But this time, don’t come until I tell you, all right?”