Craving It All: The Craving Series Read online

  Parker looked a little doubtful, “Paris could be good, but how do I make it as exciting as our last two adventures?”

  “Parker are you joking. Paris is the city of love. It has the most romantic walks along the river Seine. It has some of the best food in the world. It has the Moulin Rouge, the most famous erotic experience in the world with the most glamorous dancers in burlesque cabaret. Or how about the Paradis Latin, the home of the can-can. All those glamorous dancers dressed in beautiful satin with lace petticoats.”

  Parker was not looking too impressed.

  “I hear that some of the dancers don’t wear anything under their skirts.” Parkers faced changed instantly and I knew I had him. He had a big thing about women being naked under their skirts.

  “Who knows Parker; if you take me maybe I won’t wear anything under my skirt.”

  Parker broke the pencil he was taking notes with, “Paris it is then Evie. I am going to need to get to work if we are to go this weekend. Off you go. I’ll send a car.”

  He started to usher me out of the office.

  “Just one more thing Parker. Let’s not use your private jet. Joining the 5 mile high club will be so much more exciting if we need to be a little discreet when we slip away for some fun.”

  With that I slipped out of his office knowing that he would be aroused at that thought from that moment until we managed to join that exclusive club in the sky.

  Flying High

  Parker was true to his word and I didn’t hear from him until Thursday evening when I got a text telling me that his car would pick me up at 7pm.

  I packed a few things in a small case, but I was going to Paris. It would be shopping heaven and I was sure I would find some time to indulge myself in all the designer shops.

  The buzzer sounded at exactly 7 and I told the driver through the intercom that I would be right down.

  I actually felt a deep disappointment when I found that Parker was not in the car. The driver handed me an envelope and said that Parker would meet me at the airport.

  The envelope contained a first class ticket on an air France flight that left at 10pm that night. This would be an experience, I had enjoyed travel on Parkers private jet but other than that I had always been crammed into economy, usually squashed next to someone with hygiene problems. First class on a large carrier should be fun.

  When I arrived at the airport there was still no sign of Parker. I was whisked through the airport and soon settled in the first class lounge. I scoured the few other passengers that were using the lounge. On our last adventure I had used various disguises to surprise Parker, but unless he had decided to dress as an elderly lady or had found a fat suit that would make him look double his weight then I was pretty sure he was not there. I collected a glass of rather good wine and a few appetizers and settle into a chair that gave me a good view of the lounge entrance.

  As the minutes ticked by I could feel my anticipation building.

  But still there was no sign of him. Then my flight was called and I made my way to the departure gate. I could get used to first class travel. As soon as I arrived at the gate I was greeted and my bag was carried onto the aircraft.

  Parker had cheated.

  I had instructed him to use a public carrier so that there would be an element of risk if we decided to fly high while we travelled. Slipping into a first class bathroom unnoticed and celebrating our flight with a little action in the sky held an element of thrill for me and I knew that Parker would feel an even great rush at the thought that we might get caught.

  But there was going to be little risk in La Premiere suite. Air France had decided to give its first class passengers roomy private areas. Each passenger had a spacious and completely private area with a rather luxurious chair that reclined fully to make a full size bed.

  I always hoped for a window seat when I flew. My seat in my premier cabin was beside a row of 4 windows. The whole area had been tastefully designed in gray and red – it was a French company after all, and design comes as second nature for the French.

  I looked across at the pod on the other side of the aircraft but it was occupied by a business man in a dark suit, he closed the full length curtains when he saw me look across.

  I was intrigued but also a little cross. Where was Parker?

  A stewardess came over and asked me to fasten my seatbelt as we were about to take off. I loved this part of a flight, the anticipation as you hear the engines begin to roar and then that thrust as the aircraft moves forward and begins to accelerate along the runway. Then the best moment of all as you realise that you have left the ground.

  Perhaps Parker was planning to meet me in Paris with a big surprise. I wasn’t impressed but I decided to put on an eye mask, sit back and get some rest.

  I was just beginning to fall asleep when I became aware that someone had entered my area. I tilted my head slightly and looked under the mask I could see the uniform trousers of an Air France Steward, pale gray with a very crisp seam.

  “Drink, madam?”

  “No thank you I am just going to sleep.”

  “Very well Madam.” I heard the curtains being drawn but I was sure the steward was still inside with me. I put my hand to the mask but he took a firm grip on my wrist and prevented me from removing it. Then I felt him bend over me and his lips were pressed on mine.

  It was a glorious move. I knew it was Parker but in my head I could live a new fantasy. In my head I was about to be seduced by the air steward.

  I felt my new steward slide his hand around the back of my head and he held me firmly as his kiss became more urgent.

  Then I felt his other hand slide up under my shirt. I arched my back and felt his fingers delicately stroke along the centre of my spine, and then my bra fell loose. My nipples were hard before his fingers found them but they hardened more as I felt his delicate touch.

  Then he was pushing up my skirt. I had anticipated a liaison on this flight so was travelling without any silky underwear. The exploring fingers slid up my thigh and brushed me intimately. The “Steward” let out a gasp of pleasure.

  The light touch was exhilarating but I really wanted more. I tilted my hips to encourage him to enter me but he teasingly refused to move his hand forward. His fingers barely brushed me. It was exquisite and agonising.

  I felt his lips brush over my nipple and still his fingers teased me.

  Every touch was so light.

  I was in turmoil. Part of me wanted the gentle stroking to continue and part of me wanted him to thrust himself deep inside of me.

  Then I felt a change. The fingers moved away and I could feel the very end of his manhood, but still he only stroked me gently, encouraging me to open but not entering.

  I moaned deeply, trying to muffle the sound with my hand. I could hear the throb of the engines but I couldn’t tell how much they would cover the noise from my curtained suite.

  At last I felt the tip of his shaft begin to move forward. But then it withdrew. He was rocking his hips back and fore, but only allowing the tip to penetrate me.

  Ecstasy.

  The sensation was like nothing I had ever experienced before.

  I wanted it to go on forever… and I wanted it to stop.

  I wanted to feel him deep… and I wanted him to stay as he was.

  I was biting on my own hand to prevent the scream that I could feel building inside of me.

  Then I felt fireworks explode inside of me.

  I could feel muscles I never knew I had convulse in waves of passion.

  And that was when he decided the time was right to enter me. I felt his firmness slide steadily into me.

  The muscular contractions that were already intense increased to impossible heights.

  He was thrusting hard into me and I was matching each of his moves with thrusts of my own hips.

  My orgasm continued. Beginning to fade and then increasing to new heights of intensity.

  I felt him quiver and then explode. Holding sti
ll for the final moments so that I felt his heat enter me.

  When he withdrew I fell back into the seat gasping in air to try to recover. My arms, legs and stomach muscles ached more than they had ever done after a session at the gym. I felt physically burned out.

  As my heart stopped crashing inside my ribcage and my breathing slowed to an almost normal pace I realise I was alone.

  I pulled off the mask. There was nobody in my pod.

  I pulled my clothes back into place and straightened my hair in the mirrored wall, and then I pressed the call bell.

  After a few moments a stewardess entered my suite.

  “Could you ask the steward to bring me a glass of champagne?”

  “I’m sorry Madame.” She spoke English perfectly but had a strong French accent. “We ‘ave no stewards working first class on this flight. But I will be pleased to bring you champagne.”

  “No I think I will not have a drink after all. I just need to rest.”

  I drew my knees up and hugged them. “Well Parker” I thought “You really pulled off a good one then. Perhaps you did risk being caught after all.”

  I was still smiling as my head nodded to the side and I fell into a deep sleep.

  Paris Gets Personal

  Parker met me as I queued at passport control. He had changed from his steward uniform and was acting as if nothing had happened.

  “This is what I love about travelling, Parker.”

  He looked about him, “What? It’s just like the inside of any other airport.”

  “But it really isn’t. Look at the people greeting each other in arrivals. The kisses on each cheek. The sense of style.”

  Parker looked around him bemused as I took his arm and we walked out of the airport. “Each country I visit has a different feel. It is all the things that are just a little bit different. Listen to the conversations. I don’t understand much French but it isn’t the meaning it’s the softness, the speed of the language, the intonation.”

  I skipped ahead of him excited by our arrival in this beautiful city. Parker looked even more confused.

  “Breathe Parker. What do you smell? Every country I have ever visited has its own smell.” Parker shrugged in reply. “I know it’s so difficult to identify. Just little things that all add up to a big difference. The French even have a phrase for it ‘Je ne ce quoi”

  He was completely lost, he screwed his face in confusion and gave a shrug that was so Gaelic he looked almost French for a moment, “It means ‘I don’t know what’ sort of I can’t put my finger on it.”

  I twirled back over to him and took his arm, he smiled deeply from his eyes, “This is what I love about you Evie. You are so enthusiastic about everything. You are really alive and you make me feel alive.”

  I returned the smile, pushing that ‘love’ word out of my mind. “So what’s the plan? This is your adventure, what do we do first?”

  “First we have a table at La Capannina, it’s supposed to be one of the most romantic restaurants in the city, and then I thought we would take a walk along the Seine. I’ll get a driver to drop our things at the hotel. Then we should have time to freshen up at the hotel before our evening entertainment.”

  “I like the sound of getting fresh at the hotel and evening entertainment, aren’t they the same thing.”

  He smiled softly, then kissed the tips of his finger and pressed them to my lips.

  La Capannina certainly lived up to its reputation; we sat at a pavement table separated from the street by arches covered in rambling flowers. The setting was beautiful and I looked up at the typically French buildings on each side of the street.

  “That is where Woody Allen filmed scenes for ‘Midnight in Paris” Parker waved his hands casually at some stone steps.

  “I’m impressed Parker, you really know your stuff.”

  “And over there.” He pointed at a window on the other side of the square, “That’s the window of the room that Hemmingway stayed in when he lived here.”

  From the corner of my eye I saw Parker sneaking a peak at some notes he had concealed in his top pocket.

  “You’re cheating,” I giggled as I snatched the paper from his pocket. We both laughed then he leaned across and kissed me tenderly on the lips.

  We ordered spaghetti and Parker insisted that we try recreating the scene from ‘Lady and the tramp’ which just resorted in us both getting sauce on our mouths. I took my napkin and used one corner to wipe Parker’s mouth; he did the same for me. Then we paused and looked deeply into each others eyes before we kissed again. It was a warm day but I felt a little shiver pass down my arms.

  The light was just beginning to fade when we finished our meal, “Quickly Evie, there is something I really want you to see.”

  He threw some notes onto the table then took my hand and led me quickly along two streets which led to the banks of the seine.

  In the distance I could hear the strains of very French sounding music; Parker spoke breathlessly into my ear. “People meet each night in little amphitheatres along the bank and dance until the sun goes down.”

  As we approached I could see an elderly man sitting by a pile of bags. He had an old tape recorder and he was playing music for the tango. In the opening in front of him several couples were dancing and a crowd of people sat on walls or just stood and watched the spectacle.

  “Come on Evie, let’s dance.”

  I started to protest, I had never been a great dance, but Parker wrapped an arm firmly around my waist and led me onto the dance floor.

  I had no need to fear. Parker led me so confidently in the tango that he made me look like I knew what I was doing. At one point he held me by the hand while he carried out a complicated set of steps around me; he even gained a round of applause.

  “I had no idea that you could dance so well,” I murmured once I was pressed firmly back against his muscular body.

  “I couldn’t until this week. I’ve been taking two hours of dance lessons every day since we decided on this trip.

  We danced until the sun dropped over the river. The old man packed away his equipment and people started to drop notes into his hat. Parker fanned out a pile of Euro notes.

  “How many of these things do I give him?”

  “I think he will be happy with two of those 50’s”

  The old guy looked more than happy when I pressed 100 Euros into his hand. He would certainly have plenty of money for his cognac tonight.

  “Our hotel is just along the river,” Parker took me by the hand. “It will take us about 30 minutes to walk, or we could take a taxi if you are tired.”

  “We could take a taxi because I am not tired.” I flashed him a rather wicked smile.

  Parker took me in his arms and held me close, “Tonight I am just enjoying being with you, I think I am beginning to get the romance of this place.”

  We started to stroll along the river bank hand in hand. I was aware that something was changing, this no longer felt like a game. Parker was holding my hand with a tenderness I had not felt from him before. It was as if he was seeing me as a whole person rather than an employee paid to keep him amused.

  We walked in a serene silence but my brain was frantic with thoughts. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. I had never thought of Parker as anything other than a fun employer. I suppose he was a sort of employer with benefits.

  I glanced across at Parker. He was smiling as he looked around and took in the scenery. I had never seen him looking so happy or so alive. Spending his life locked away in a penthouse suite that contained his office and his apartment had never suited Parker. He had everything that money could buy and it left him tense and trapped. Now I was seeing a Parker that was enjoying the simple things in life; he had danced in the street, he was enjoying the atmosphere of Paris. He looked across at me and his smile widened. He was particularly enjoying being allowed to be him… and I’m not sure I dare to think it… being with me.

  We reached our hotel and once again P
arker had really excelled himself. It wasn’t a big luxurious corporate hotel that I would have expected him to choose. It was small and very typically French. It might not have the safety of knowing exactly what sort of standard you are going to get, but it more than made up for that with style and character. I paused and looked up at the traditional building.

  “Is it alright?” Parker actually sounded nervous, “I can get us somewhere else if you prefer.”

  “Parker, it is perfect,”

  We checked in and then made our way over to the lift. The two doors had to be closed by hand and then the small cage like elevator rattled its way up the shaft. We could see the ancient mechanics with its chains and counterweights as the elevator strained to take us up to the third floor. With just Parker, me, and a young man with our cases the lift was crowded and I was pressed into Parkers chest.