Jasmine and the Argonaut: Part 3

Paulo’s Seduction

In 4 parts, by RachaelJane. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

 

By the time Ellen and I join them, nearly all the contestants are in the dining area and are already eating at the table. Ellen and I go over to the side table where the buffet is laid out, and we select some food. Patrick looks at me as I sit down opposite him, but he doesn't say anything. After Vincent's revelation earlier about Patrick's feelings towards me, I'm not certain what to say to Patrick.

"Were there many contestants in the practice rooms this morning?" I ask Patrick, more to make him to talk to me than any real interest in the movements of the other contestants.

"Um; No. I was alone for most of the time. Paulo joined me for a while, but a woman called him away. When he returned he looked like a cat who had fallen into a bowl of cream."

I immediately realize the importance of what Patrick is saying about Paulo, but it is Ellen who quizzes Patrick for more details. By the time he's done, I have no doubt that Sylvie was the woman Patrick saw, and Paulo was summoned to gather information from me while I was in Effie's room. A very slick operation, but one which may still end in my favor.

When we arrived in the Argonaut complex yesterday, Patrick and I gobbled our food down in case it disappeared before our hunger was satisfied. Both of us come from poor families where meals can be irregular. Today we eat at a more leisurely pace. We would have time for a pleasant conversation if Patrick showed any inclination to talk. He simply eats in silence, although his eyes rarely leave me. After a while his gawking starts to annoy me. I'm about to say something rude when Ellen puts her hand on my arm.

"Perhaps if you stopped rubbing your breasts, Patrick wouldn't stare at them so, Jasmine," whispers Ellen in my ear.

I drop my hands in a flash and suddenly feel awkward. The tenderness hasn't quite worn off, and I must have been trying to sooth my breasts without thinking about what I was doing. From Patrick's reaction he must have heard Ellen's words and I don't know which of us is the more embarrassed.

"Er; Sorry, Patrick," I say. "Ellen and I were trying on some jewelry and one of the pieces is quite heavy. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"Um; that's OK. I didn't mean to stare. That's a nice ring, by the way."

I suddenly realize I've left the emerald ring on my finger. In my haste to get changed I forgot to take it off and return it to Ellen. Fortunately Ellen doesn't seem to mind.

"Yes, it's an emerald," I reply. "Ellen has been kind enough to let me borrow it for the television show this afternoon."

"Well you will look a very fine lady when you walk up onto the stage," says Patrick.

"Actually, I'm not going for the fine lady look. I think the warrior princess style is more appropriate for me. What do you think?"

"I don't know," replies Patrick. "Harper said that sponsors might be put off from helping us if they think that you are."

"That will do, Patrick," says Harper, who is sat further down the table, but listening to our conversation. "Once we have finished lunch, Jasmine and I will have our discussion about how she should handle herself during the show."

Harper's interruption stifles any further conversation, and we finish lunch in silence. After lunch, Patrick and Ellen leave on different missions. I'm left alone with Harper.

"So," I begin. "Are you going to tell me what you told Patrick?"

"No," replies Harper. "I told Patrick what he needs to know and believe. Which isn't necessarily the same thing that you need to know and believe. You and Patrick are very different people when it comes to handling interviews. Patrick has a natural gift that makes people instantly like him. You, on the other hand, have a knack of annoying and confusing people. I know you confuse me. You scowl at people you should please, and flash your eyelids at people you should avoid. Tell me how you think you should portray yourself this afternoon."

"I thought your role is to tell me," I reply. "I've no idea. I know I hate trying to read from a script."

"Which is why I don't think anything we rehearse here is going to help you. You are at your best when you are being spontaneous. My only advice to you is to remember that you need to attract potential employers; and you must."

Harper lists a dozen or so pieces of advice, most which I forget as soon as he has said them.

"Now what?" I ask when Harper has finished his speech.

"You have an hour before you need to get changed for this afternoon's charade," says Harper. "Why don't you go for a walk."

Chapter 12: Sabotage

I return from my walk a few minutes late to find Harper, Ellen, Patrick, Vincent, and two other of my room-mates in the middle of what I can only describe as a crisis meeting. At first I think the crisis is somehow my fault.

"I told you where I was going," I say before anyone can accuse me of doing a disappearing act.

"Yes, we know," says Harper. "Ellen wanted to fetch you, but we thought we had better come up with a solution before we told you. But you're here now anyway."

"So what's the problem?" I ask, relieved that for once that I'm not the cause of the crisis.

"It appears a maintenance man called while we were having lunch to fix a problem with your wardrobe door," says Vincent.

"But there's nothing wrong with my wardrobe door," I say, assuming they mean the well-worn, but still functional, cupboard I've been assigned to store my things.

"So what happened?" I ask.

"Sabotage!" says Ellen. "The maintenance man tampered with your dress for tonight."

I look at Harper for an explanation.

"A chemical has been sprayed onto your dress," says Harper. "We're having it analyzed. It is likely an irritant or mild poison. Nothing that would be noticeable to anyone picking up your dress, but powerful enough to cause the wearer a few problems after a short while. It was lucky I was suspicious when the security staff told me about the visitor."

"Can the chemical be removed?" asks Ellen.

"Probably, once we identify it. But that would take too long. We have less than an hour before Jasmine must go across to the studio."

"I'll fetch some of my dresses," says Ellen. "Perhaps one might fit Jasmine with only minimal alterations."

While I appreciate Ellen's offer of help, her taste in clothes is very different from mine. I'd rather wear my own dress; the one I was wearing when I arrived here. But that would be only as a last resort. I decide to take matters into my own hands.

"Ellen, thank you for your offer of help," I say. "This is what I would like you to bring."

I give Ellen a short list of things I know she has in her room. If she thinks my request strange, she has the decency to refrain from voicing her opinion aloud. She doesn't hesitate and goes off to her room to fetch what I requested. I turn to the other contestants in my dormitory.

"Thank you all for your help, but I can manage with Harper and Ellen's assistance from here," I say. "You had best go and get ready yourself. Most of you are in the batches of contestants before mine, so you probably need to go soon."

The others seem relieved and nod in agreement. They have wasted precious time dealing with a problem that shouldn't have involved them in the first place. By the time Ellen returns, my room-mates have changed their clothes and left for the studio. My dress is still on the hanger where I left it. A slight stain on the wardrobe wall around it could be residue from the chemical spray.

"That stain is what alerted me to the problem," says Harper. "We've checked around for other unwelcome additions. The maintenance man was only here for a few minutes, so he won't have had time to do much. I think it is likely he was sent specifically to sabotage your dress for tonight. Once we've identified the chemical I'll have the rest of your clothes and bedding checked."

"So I can't even wear my own dress?" I say.

"Not until it is checked, no. I'm sorry, we've let you down. I should have known to have a backup set of clothes for you. I'm new to these dirty games too."

I explain my plan to Harper, who listens carefully. He goes thoughtful for a while before going into the corridor to make a telephone call. Ellen returns laden with the items I requested just as Harper completes his call.

The next half-hour is a whirlwind of activity inside the dormitory. To my surprise neither Harper nor Ellen oppose my decision to take personal responsibility for my costume tonight. Their comments are helpful and supportive as my costume takes shape. A few additions thanks to Harper's telephone call help to perfect my outfit. By the time my make-up is applied I really feel on fire. I complete my preparations by sliding the emerald ring onto my finger. A new wave of confidence sweeps through me. I had previously complained of being a marionette in tonight's show, dancing to other people's tunes. No more; now I really feel in control.

Ellen places a large cape over my shoulders which completely hides my costume. A deliberate ruse devised by Harper to foil the paymasters of the saboteur. If they believe I'm wearing the studio dress, then it's unlikely they will attempt any other act against me. It also allows me the element of surprise when I finally reveal my costume.

"Are you wearing those shoes?" asks Ellen, pointing to the training shoes I've been wearing all afternoon. Apart from the cape, it is the only part of my clothing that is visible.

"Only for now," I reply. The shoes that matched the outfit are quarantined with the dress.

Harper escorts me to the studio. Ellen left a few minutes before us. They aren't allowed backstage, so they'll will be watching from their seats in the audience. The show has already begun. Each batch of five contestants spends about five minutes being paraded around the stage, at which point the audience vote for one of them to be interviewed. The chosen contestant is then interviewed for about five minutes, before rejoining the others on a platform at the rear of the stage.

While I was changing, Ellen told me about the nature and scale of the underhand tricks that are tolerated by the Argonaut's officials. The guiding rule is that unless a contestant shows unexplained signs of physical injury, or is unable to stand unaided, the officials won't undertake any serious investigation into any skullduggery. Providing that unwritten rule is observed, any amount of doping and intimidation is tolerated, and no investigation will be conducted into claims of sabotage. Had the saboteur of my dress succeeded in his mission, then his paymaster would have been secretly congratulated for a masterful stroke. The poor victim is such cases is left to rue their misfortune.

I join the other four contestants in the eighth batch at the studio, and we are soon escorted into a large room where the ten contestants from the preceding two batches are waiting to be called onto the stage. Most are simply standing about nervously. A few are making last minute alterations to their costume. Everything is done under the watchful eye of two of the television studio crew.

On one side of the room is a large screen displaying the show being broadcast from this building. The overbearing hosts, led by Darrian, are amusing the audience with anecdotes and recollections from previous Argonauts. In between segments, a batch of five contestants are brought out and paraded around the large stage, before standing on a raised platform at the rear of the stage.

I'm busy watching the screen, so I don't notice Patrick approaching me until he is virtually on top of me.

"I just wanted to wish you good luck tonight, Jasmine," says Patrick.

"You too, Patrick," I reply.

It's the only opportunity that I get to say anything to Patrick before his group is called onto the stage. I study each contestant's costume as they make their final preparations, focusing mainly on the women. Most of their outfits are colorful evening dresses. That means they will be hoping to impress the same employers; the ones who like to hire young women who look sweet and pretty. A couple women in their mid-twenties are a bit more daring in showing their cleavage. They may impress a different segment of the audience, although I'm sure that segment will have more than its fair share of perverts.

As for me, I've no idea which employers I might attract. Will the audience admire my hastily designed costume, or will I be laughed at and mocked? To be honest, I don't care. My real goal tonight is to wrong-foot my powerful rivals. My imaginary warrior princess who is guiding me tells me I'm doing the right thing.

Chapter 13: A special treat

I have nearly twenty minutes to wait before it is my group's turn on stage. Since none of the contestants in the room are being very talkative, I focus on watching the show on the huge screen. It also enables me to avoid talking to Chloe, who is in the last batch of contestants. I adjust my opinion of some of the contestants as they take their turn in the spotlight.

Finally my group is called onto the stage. I wait until the last minute before removing my cape, and make the final adjustments to my costume. I may not be wearing Ellen's great-aunt Sophie's costume exactly as she once wore it, but it is close enough for my younger and inexperienced body. Ellen said this would be the first time in thirty years that the Jewels of Desire have been worn, and I'm determined to do the costume justice. Thanks to Harper's tasteful additions, the costume is now suitable to be worn in public. I'm not showing as much bare flesh as the original costume left displayed. While near-nudity isn't frowned on by the upper echelons of the city, it most certainly is at home. My modified costume is decent by my home settlement's standards, but only just.

Chloe's exclamation as I reveal my costume confirms that I will certainly attract plenty of attention tonight. What the audience won't get to see is the hidden secret of the Jewels of Desire. The design of the costume has one obvious purpose; sexual desire. The wearer uses her costume to titillate and excite the observer. What isn't immediately apparent to an observer is that the costume is also designed to arouse the wearer. The strangely shaped piece that fits over my cunt, rubs against my clit in a very sensual way. Of course I could adjust the piece to prevent it from arousing me, but having decided to wear the Jewels of Desire, I fully intend to do so properly, within acceptable bounds. Besides, it will help me quell my nerves during the interview, should I be selected.

I remove my shoes and take a few practice walks about the room. The initial discomfort is soon replaced by a more pleasant feeling. Within moments I feel every bit the part that I look; an extremely desirable young woman. I don't care if some of the audience think me worse than a whore. This costume transforms me and I like the rebel it makes me.

"; thank you Patrick and to group seven," says Darrian as he concludes his interview with Patrick, who has rejoined the group preceding mine on the raised platforms. "And now ladies and gentlemen I've just received word that we are all in for a special treat. I'm informed that the next group contains a contestant wearing a most unusual costume. Let's show our appreciation as group eight take to the stage."

As I step out from the wings and onto the stage, the polite applause given to every contestant suddenly erupts into gasps, cheers and thunderous applause. The audience is going wild by the time I reach half way across the stage. For once the hosts are torn between savoring the sight of me and calming the audience. The effect on me is almost as powerful as the emotional trip Paulo took me on last night. If it is possible to have an orgasm while walking about on a stage, then I think I just had one.

The audience loves my demonstration, unaware my movements are stimulating me as well. By the time the audience is called on to vote, I'm in a highly charged sexual state. I stand still so as not to tip my already sensitive body into another orgasm. I don't know how many of the audience are watching me, but I feel as though hundreds of eyes are watching my every move. The idea of being watched only excites me even more. Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that my costume has earned me an on-screen interview. The other four contestants in my batch look relieved that they have avoided being picked. They will still be interviewed, but in the peace and quiet of a private room, later this evening.

"Well, what a sight for sore eyes you are, Jasmine my dear," says Darrian once the audience has calmed enough to make conversation possible. "What an exquisite costume. You have certainly excelled yourself."

"I'm glad you like it," I reply to the compliments each of the show's hosts have heaped on my costume. "The costume isn't entirely original, and most pieces have a history. The larger two pieces once belonged to a famous dancer, and are known as the Jewels of Desire. The emerald ring is said to have once been the property of a warrior princess."

"Fascinating," says Darrian, as his eyes roam every part of my body.

In fairness to Darrian, he is very professional and manages to ask his questions despite the delectable eye candy within touching distance of his chair. Of course, being a good showman, he has me conclude my interview by asking me to parade my costume once more for the audience to admire. I do so with a daring I didn't think I had in me. The rubies on my costume catch the spotlights and sparkle. At the moment I feel like I'm on fire.

Half an hour later the tenth and final on-screen interview with Chloe concludes, and after a brief wrap-up by the hosts, the show ends. A thoughtful member of the studio crew has my cape and shoes waiting for me as the contestants file off the stage. All the contestants' helpers are waiting to bustle us away before any more foul-play can occur in the confusion. Paulo makes a point of coming over to me before he is whisked away.

"Well done, princess," he says as he slips a note into my hand. "And I like the costume."

"Thanks. You didn't do so bad yourself, professor," I reply, keeping up our private game.

Vincent keeps watch over me while the rest of our dormitory are gathered together. There are crowds everywhere and it would be easy to get waylaid. After my performance on stage, I'm just as much at risk from over-enthusiastic admirers as potential saboteurs. We make it back to the dormitory without incident. While we were at the studio, Harper has had my bed and belongings checked for any other traces of the chemical that was on my dress. It turns out the chemical was a skin irritant that would have left me scratching my way through the show. After a quick debriefing and congratulations all round, Patrick and I are left in peace. The others are given ten minutes to freshen up before being escorted downstairs for their interviews. Those of us who were interviewed on-screen have the rest of the night free. I read Paulo's note, which is an invitation to a party starting in just over an hour.

I take one last look in the mirror at myself wearing the Jewels of Desire. They are mine for tonight, and despite my exhaustion I'm reluctant to take them off. Ellen will collect them in the morning before all the contestants begin the first of a series of tests and challenges that make up the Argonaut event. I put on some light music and I gently dance to the rhythm. On impulse I adjust the pieces of my costume so the pieces play their diabolical, but wonderful, tricks to my senses. After a while I am contemplating joining Paulo's party. My common sense battles with my slutty urges.

Chapter 14: Invitation to a party

I've only ten minutes to change for the party if I want to make an impression on the city-born guests who will be attending. Fortunately I showered and washed my hair straight after the television show. Changing clothes isn't going to take long. I'm tempted to wear the Jewels of Desire, but I owe it to Ellen to keep the jewels safe until I can return them in the morning. That's not something I can guarantee at a party, particularly one organized by Paulo. I'm not sure how he has managed to organize the invitations to include several of those in tonight's studio audience. The Argonaut event is surrounded by festivities and celebrations among Argon's elite. I can only assume Paulo has somehow persuaded a group to attend his party. Half a dozen or more, all female, from what Harper tells me, although Harper isn't the most reliable source of gossip.

I ask Patrick if he wishes to come, but he declines. I've already established that he and Paulo don't get on. I think Patrick was hoping that he and I would keep each other company tonight. If he were to come out and ask me to stay I might consider doing so, but I'm not putting up with his 'secret admirer' routine. Nevertheless, I feel a twinge of guilt for leaving a fellow Buchanan contestant alone tonight.

Paulo's invitation gives me enough information to plan my attire from the limited wardrobe available to me. As Paulo said at the outset, clothing is almost optional. I begin to wonder if this is going to be a party or an orgy. To be honest, I'm more than a little nervous about how I am going to cope. I want to be with Paulo, but the prospect of sharing his attentions with other women doesn't sit comfortably with me.

I present myself at the room set aside for the party guests to assemble. The guests arrive singly. The first is a young woman a year or so older than me with long blond hair. She has the superior look of someone from the Argon's ruling elite, although her clothes are relatively plain. She makes no effort to greet me and she sits on the opposite side of the room. The second, third and fourth women are equally aloof.

The people of Argon's city center place great importance on their looks. Despite their arrogant attitude, these young women are hardly the pick of the crop. Perhaps that's why they are here rather than at some swanky party elsewhere. I have no idea what drives these people to do what they do.

A fifth woman arrives. Unlike the others she clearly doesn't want to be here. I walk over to her.

"Hi, I'm Jasmine," I say. "Is everything alright? You don't look happy to be here."

"Um; Hi; I'm Sheba; Bathsheba actually, but only my parents ever use my real name. And no; I don't want to be here. But my parents said I must prostitute myself with a contestant tonight or they would marry me off to my slime ball of a third cousin."

"They told you to prostitute yourself?" I say in genuine shock.

"Um; not in so many words, but that was their meaning. They know how I loathe my third cousin. He's been trying to get his paws on me since I was twelve."

"Did your parents specify any particular contestant?" I ask.

"No. Male or female. They don't care. If I can seduce a contestant into working for my parents, I get another six months grace to find a husband. But with six of us here tonight I don't stand much of a chance. I hear the contestant hosting this party is an arrogant peacock."

"Yes, that sounds like Paulo. Perhaps I can help you. I know one of the other contestants. He would probably appreciate some feminine company tonight."

I almost laugh out loud when she leaps at my offer. I quickly bustle her out of the room and up to the dormitory. I just hope Patrick accepts the opportunity on offer. Patrick is alone in the dormitory so I practically throw Sheba at him. What happens next is up to the two of them. That's all the pandering I intend to do tonight.

I bolt downstairs before I miss the arrival of the final guest. The other women don't seem the slightest bit interested in Sheba's disappearance. We don't have long to wait before the final guest arrives. Unlike her rivals, this young woman is pretty. A natural beauty with long black hair. I wonder why she wants to take part in this tacky party tonight. She puts on the all-too-familiar superior look and sits near the other women without greeting anyone.

Cassius, one of the volunteer helpers, enters a few moments later. He reads off the names of the women on his list. When he calls out Sheba's name I tell him that Sheba withdrew. Another woman enters the room while Cassius is making the alteration to his list. She's in her mid-twenties and dressed in a smart black leather outfit. She hands Cassius a small bag and murmurs something only he can hear.

He nods and the new arrival moves over to where the other women are sitting. Although there are empty seats on my side of the room, she stands over one of the women and tells her to move. To my surprise, she and the woman next to her meekly stand up and move across the room.

"The arrangements for tonight have been changed," says Cassius. "Mansel from Bourbon commune will be hosting the party. Paulo and Chloe have each made alternative arrangements for tonight.

What?!

Mansel enters a few moments later and Cassius disappears with the bag the black clad woman gave him.

"Well, this appears to be my lucky night," smirks Mansel.

Mansel calls out the names of the five city-born women and escorts them out of the room. They seem puzzled by the change of plan, but Mansel's pleasant banter seems to remove their immediate concerns. While Mansel acknowledges my presence, it appears I'm not invited to his party.

That leaves me and the woman in black. The others have barely left the room when she stands up and moves across the room and sits next to me. I feel slightly intimidated by her domineering presence.

"Hi. I'm Sarah," she says in a pleasant voice. Not at all like the tone she used with the other women only moments before.

"Hi, I'm."

"I know who you are, Jasmine. Your face has been plastered on the entertainment feed for most of the evening. Which leaves the question of what are you doing trying to gatecrash this party? Were you hoping to sabotage some of your rivals tonight? That would be very risky and not very sporting."

"There's nothing sporting about the Argonaut," I reply. "But sabotage isn't my style. Paulo invited me to the party and I agreed to come. Now it looks as though he's stood me up."

"Nonsense. Why change the host of the party? It would be far simpler to cancel your invitation. Anyway, it explains the reason for the change of plan. I admire your courage. I'm betting on you being one of the winners of the Argonaut. Take this; it may prove useful. If you emerge victorious, then contact me after the Argonaut is over. I might be able to arrange something that is mutually beneficial to both of us."

I look at the card Sarah has given me. It simply contains a picture of a black cat.

"Um; Thank you. But there's no address on the card," I say.

"Ha ha! What an innocent you are! So delightful. Any of the Argonaut officials will know how to find 'Le Chat Noir'. Just remember to ask for me by name."

I tuck Sarah's card into my pocket and nervously look about the room. Has Paulo changed his mind about seeing me?

"When you see Paulo, you must stamp your authority on him," says Sarah. "He will feel uncertain about you after your success tonight. Don't lose your advantage by turning into a blushing maiden."

"You have experience at handling this sort of situation then?" I ask.

"Ha ha ha! Yes. You could say that. I was once an innocent young nineteen-year-old like you, but these days I'm co-owner of Le Chat Noir club. It caters for clients with rather special tastes. I'm here to meet a client now. Just watch and learn. But a word of advice; know when to keep your mouth shut about what you see."

Cassius returns with Chloe. She is wearing a thin coat over whatever she is wearing underneath. She sees me talking to Sarah and freezes. The look she gives me leaves me in no doubt that I'll be her first target for elimination tomorrow, possibly sooner. Sarah stands and walks over to Chloe and stands a meter in front of her. Without any verbal exchange Chloe removes her coat and hands it to Cassius. I thought the clothes I am wearing are skimpy and revealing, but Chloe's clothes border on indecent. She wearing a leather skirt that could be more accurately described as a wide belt, and a top so flimsy that one good cough would send it flying across the room. A small black cat motif is visible on both items of clothing. The clothes must have been what was inside the bag Sarah gave to Cassius.

"Good evening, Chloe. I'm Sarah. You have requested my services for this evening. Do you understand and agree to tonight's arrangements?"

"Yes," says Chloe in a subdued tone. She suddenly flinches at the steely gaze Sarah gives her. "Yes, Miss Sarah," Chloe corrects herself in a louder voice.

Sarah nods and signals Chloe to put on her coat. Sarah then escorts Chloe from the room. "I'll return her here at two o'clock," says Sarah to Cassius. As she leaves Sarah quickly turns to me and winks.

I stand bemused at what just occurred before my eyes. I've no idea what sort of arrangement Sarah and Chloe have but my fertile imagination can come up with several possibilities.

Chapter 15: Seduced by Paulo

"Chloe will kill you if you mutter one word about what you've just seen to Paulo or anybody else," says Cassius, clearly not happy about Chloe's arrangements for tonight.

"I think she wants to kill me anyway, but I'm not a blabber mouth," I reply, heeding Sarah's advice about knowing when to stay silent. "Whatever games she wants to play tonight are her own business as far as I'm concerned."

"Hmm. OK. That's a good attitude.; Now I shall escort you to where Paulo is waiting."

I follow Cassius to the elevator, and we go up to one of the rooms on the top floor of the building. I can hear Mansel's party further down the corridor.

"Be gone by 2 am," says Cassius as we enter what must have once been a teacher's living quarters. "If Chloe discovers you here when she returns I can't answer for your safety."

I nod in acknowledgement of his sound advice. I walk into the living room and see Paulo sat by the window. I turn to say 'thank you' to Cassius, but he is already on his way out.

"We have the place to ourselves," says Paulo. "Chloe decided to go out again and Mansel agreed to take over hosting the party. I hope you aren't too disappointed about missing the party."

"I'm most upset," I lie. "I was so looking forward to a decent party and you change the arrangements without even informing me."

"I'll do my best to make it up to you. Would you like something to drink?"

I let Paulo make a close examination of my outfit. He reaches out to touch me but I grab his hand.

"Not so fast, Paulo. We have a few things to sort out before we go any further."

He steps back and looks at me with a puzzled frown. This isn't going the way he expected and I've got him off balance. I shall follow Sarah's advice and show him who is in control of whom tonight.

"Firstly; What is my name?" I ask, recalling that he had admitted to previously fucking young women without bothering to learn their name.

"Jasmine," he laughs. "After this evening's broadcast I could hardly not know it."

"Good," I reply. "Now, there is the not-so-small matter of you abandoning me at two o'clock this morning with a chain locked around my ankle. I think I deserve some serious groveling from you for that shabby trick."

"I said I'm sorry and explained it was Chloe's doing. What more do you want me to do?"

"Don't hide behind Chloe's skirt," I say, mentally recalling that very little could hide behind the skirt Chloe was wearing when she left here. "You can kiss my feet. Then I might forgive you."

"Kiss your feet?! You're joking, of course!; You're not, are you?"

I let the silence between us continue. Paulo doesn't know what to do. He resolves the impasse by pacing about the room. I've won a victory of sorts. At least he isn't throwing me out. While he is pacing about I move over to a chair and sit down. Paulo returns with a plate of nibbles and silently offers it to me.

"Thank you, Paulo," I say as though our previous conversation hadn't occurred.

I can tell that his grand seduction scene has collapsed around his ears. I just hope he doesn't take too long making his mind up about my demand. Yesterday I would have pretended it was a joke so we could move onto what we both want to do. Tonight I feel the need to ensure Paulo sees me as an equal and not just some wench who is good for a roll in bed.

Paulo sits on the couch a couple of meters away from me. He tries making small talk, but his efforts are half-hearted and our stilted conversation peters out. Then he leaps up without warning. I tense in case I need to defend myself. But he sits down on the floor near me and lifts my left foot. Off goes my shoe and he gives the top of my foot a short kiss. Then he removes my right shoe. Instead of kissing the top of my foot he nibbles my toes. The pleasant sensation makes me giggle.

"So, am I forgiven for leaving you alone in the café last night?" he says.

"Umm; possibly. Why don't we move over to the couch and you can apologize some more?"

Before I can stand up Paulo lifts me in his arms. He carries me to the couch and lays me length ways with my head resting on the arm of the couch. He kneels on the floor by my head and before I know what is happening we are locked in a deep kiss. This is the seduction scene he had planned before my arrival and unless I exert some control over what is happening I will become a willing slave to passion. My traitorous body yields to his skillful hands as they roam freely over the exposed parts of my body. Any minute now those hands will be exploring more intimate territory and I'm not certain I will be able to stop him. Worse still, I'm not certain I actually want to stop him.

Finally he releases my mouth and begins work on my neck. The sensations I felt last night are returning in force. My body arches as his hands start working towards zones that should be out-of- bounds. At least out-of-bounds unless and until I give my permission. The sensible part of my mind makes a valiant effort to exert some control. Not control over Paulo, but control over me.

"Wait, Paulo!" I gasp.

Last night he would have completely ignored my request and continued with his great seduction. Last night I wouldn't have made any effort to repeat my plea. Tonight Paulo is a little more wary of me and to my surprise he complies. Which is fortunate as I'm not certain I would have the willpower to repeat my request tonight any more than I had last night. I use the pause to reposition myself into a more comfortable position. In doing so I free my left arm which had been trapped under my body since Paulo lay me on the couch.

"You are going too fast for me," I say. "We have plenty of time tonight, or have you other plans for later on?"

"My only plans for tonight involve you and only you," he replies showing a remarkable amount of sensitivity to my needs.

It's not that I'm unwilling or uncertain about tonight. I came here knowing full well our relationship would go much further than last night. My insides quivered with desire when I realized I will have Paulo's exclusive attention. Not once have I been in any doubt that this is where I want to be tonight. I know tomorrow Paulo and I will be enemies; No! Not enemies. Rivals. The junta and their supporters are the enemy for perpetuating the evils of serfdom.

"You are going all thoughtful on me," says Paulo when he notices my distraction.

"Sorry," I reply.

This time I really am sorry for letting my mind wander. Tonight belongs to Paulo and me. My hand reaches out for his chest. Without any conscious command, my hand unfastens two buttons on his shirt and slips inside the opening. He simply allows my hand to explore. My other hand takes one of his hands and guides it towards my shoulder. Secretly I'm hoping he will take my hint and unfasten the single strap holding my top in place. But his hand moves in another direction and starts playing with my hair. His touch is divine and I respond willingly to his caress. He is far more skilled than me at this sort of play. I feel slightly embarrassed that I'm unable to give him the same degree of pleasure that he is giving me.

"I'm not experienced at this sort of thing. Tell me what you would like me to do," I whisper as he leans forward and kisses my neck again.

"Anything? You would do anything?" he whispers.

"Yes. Within reason," I reply. The sensible part of my mind is still with me, even if the rest of me wishes it wasn't.

"Can you dance?" he asks.

Of all the things I thought he would ask of me, dancing never entered into my head. I haven't danced in years. My mother taught me to dance when I was little. But twelve hour working days leave very little room for dancing.

"I haven't danced in years, but I think I can remember how. Is that what you want me to do? Dance with you?"

"Yes. I'll put on some music and we shall dance."

To be continued in part 4, by Rachael Jane for Literotica.