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Subject: {ASSM} NEW - It's all about Image - A POWER BROKER Story
Date: Fri, 19 Apr 2002 10:10:02 -0400
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ITS ALL ABOUT IMAGE  -  A POWER BROKER STORY

An entertainment for Adults only. By James Anderton.


The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, 
and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an 
adult, or reading sex stories upset you, do not read any 
further.

-------------------------------------------------
Previous stories in the POWER BROKER Series are:

A Crude Business
The Ambassador's wife
Vengeance
Ambition

Also by James Anderton

For Love of France
--------------------------------------------------

PROLOGUE:  AUTUMN 1987 - ENGLAND

Smoke drifted lazily into the air from the end of Gerald Knebworthy's
huge Cigar.  Before him, a select group of his brightest students, all
mellowed by several glasses of good brandy, eager to share with him
the conclusions of their private project.  It had started as a
post-grad joke, three years ago- "Write a business plan to create an
organisation which will be the most powerful organisation in the world
within 30 years". 

Paul Hegarty rose to his feet.

"As Managing Director Designate", he started with a big grin, "I will
introduce you to The GODS Corporation,
Global Organisation for the Destruction of Society,  bringer of
pestilence to the world's major powers".

His audience chuckled, as he launched into his presentation.

"First, what sort of enterprise? Political?, Industrial?, Financial?
.......".

Knebworthy sat forward in his seat.  The guys had delivered ....

"... only criminal certain enough, .......need a real business plan
....."

Knebworthy's mouth fell open.  The plan being proposed was exactly the
proposition he had come up with, but in a level of detail he had only
dreamed about.

"....need seed capital,  Rashchid's father could........ operating
cash from drugs? prostitution?..."

Knebworthy smiled to himself.  This was going to work if they all
bought into it.

"...all-pervasive power is essential ... political .... financial
...... violence .... coercion ...."

"What about the competition? You don't think people like the Mafia
will just let you take over their path do you?"  Knebworthy smiled to
himself.  Typical of Dan Hegarty to put his brother on the spot.

"No, of course not bro.  We need new suppliers,  new customers,
niches, like these......"

Two hours later, Knebworthy, the newly elected CEO of GDS Ltd (GODS
had sounded too pretentious when they discussed going "legit")
dismissed his board and set them loose on the world.

					==========================

ITS ALL ABOUT IMAGE  -  A POWER BROKER STORY


LONDON - 1989

All business receptions were the same these days. The drinks always
flowed, each host desperate to provide the most innovative cocktail.
Platesful of fingerfood were just as boring. They were either raw
vegetables to demonstrate health awareness, or the most implausible
concoctions to demonstrate creativity. In either case, she always
passed. As founder and head of Ames-Rassmussen, Ingeborg Rasmussen
knew the score. PR was about contacts. People respected her. She would
have preferred liked to respected, but few of her clients ever got to
know her. She always succeeded, and though no one could accuse her of
being stand-offish, her cool exterior helped to calm ragged nerves,
exude confidence and always helped smooth the path to a contract.

She was fighting boredom as usual, her welcoming smile pasted to her
face as she swanned her way around the crowd, glad handing here, small
snippets of ego-building complements there. One of her A-list
propects, Henry Jeavons MP was standing in the corner, facing into the
room, deep in conversation with a tall man whose back prevented her
catching Jeavon's eye. She moved closer. Jeavons looked up and spotted
her approach.

"Inge, my dear, how lovely to see you."

"And you, Mr Jeavons. I didn't know you would be here today, it's
really a pleasant surprise."

"Indeed it is for me too. May I introduce my friend Mr Paul Hegarty?"

Inge looked up into the bronzed face and bright blue eyes of the most
beautiful man she had ever seen. He literally took her breath away.
Speechless, she tried to compose herself and offered her hand. He
ignored it, but smiled and offered her a drink.

"No thank you. I wave a glass, but rarely drink on duty."

"Then I will get you one another time when you are not." It was a
statement, not a request. "Excuse me, I can see you need to talk."
With that, he turned away and joined the group of people to his left,
exchanging friendly greetings with all, and more intimate ones with a
few, mainly good-looking ladies. Inge was astonished. She was truly
annoyed that he had moved away so quickly. Men didn't do that to her.
Several times over the next couple of hours she found herself
searching for his face. Each time she found it, he was deep in
animated conversation with a vivacious woman. Eventually she tried
again and failed. He had gone without saying goodbye. Then, she
thought to herself, why should he say goodbye, they had only spoken a
couple of sentences.

					==========================

The plan was simple but different. Providing hookers to influential
people was a staple diet for organised crime, and if GDS were to
expand it's own influence it would have to be in that market. The
other issue was the market itself. Paul's plan was audatious in the
extreme. The vice trade operated by supplying young women and boys to
people willing to pay. GDS already had enough income from
prostitution, several projects were already reaping benefits. The GDS
objective was power.  The most powerful people could afford a hundred
street hookers, where was the attraction of that. What they would
really appreciate was fucking a recognisable somebody, especially if
they were also married to a famous face. It would appeal to the
egotistical side that all such people had to their character. An
experience was not enough, it had to be truly memorable. What better
than sleeping with a film star or top model.

"Sonia could do it."

"No. Sonia's needed elsewhere looking after our coke business. And
besides, we need a completely legitimate business to act as cover. I
think we need someone from outside. Someone with a track record in
business. I want this to be a professional operation - quite different
from traditional escort agency stuff. Can you imagine it.  10k for a
dirty weekend with Madonna, or Britney Spears?"

"I suspect you would have to promise marriage and untold riches to get
women like that."

"Maybe so, but they all have weaknesses, buttons to push. It's just a
matter of finding the right ones. Anyway, to return to the matter in
hand, I've had a headhunter looking for a candidate for us, and
they've come up with three we should look at."

Dan Hegarty looked at the three plain green folders his brother passed
to him and began to read.

"Looks like we have two certainties bro, let's get these two in."

Paul looked across at him with a faint smile on his face. "Why only
two? What's wrong with the third?"

"Well, this one runs her own catering company, is still in her mid
thirties, good enough looking, and has a penchant for having sex at
parties. Sounds like the perfect choice - we could even use the
catering company as cover."

"True."

"This second one looks an even better proposition. She has experience
of the gambling business, ran her own Casino in Vegas, is still only
in her early forties and looks the part. Very Tidy!"

"Also True. So why not the third? She runs the biggest PR Agency in
London for gods sake, and she's only twenty eight."

"Well, frankly she looks too much of a challenge. She is stunning to
look at, I'll grant you. but she has a reputation. I've met her. She
is completely work focussed, only interested in making money and has
no interest in sex. They don't call her the Ice Maiden for nothing.

"Let's interview any of the three that exhibits interest. You take the
Caterer and Gambler, and I'll tackle the Ice Maiden. Set the
interviews for three weeks time, and lets issue the invites in two.
That should be long enough for us to figure out whether or not they
would be interested."

"OK Paul, but I'm gonna have more fun than you. Enjoy the Ice Maiden."

Paul smiled to himself as Dan left. A bit of brotherly rivalry was
good for the soul. Reaching into his desk drawer, he extracted a
single sheet of paper and replaced it where it had been earlier - in
the Ice Maiden's file. Unknown to Dan, Paul had already started doing
his homework. What Dan didn't know, he wouldn't miss......."

					=========================
Inge sat on the bench in the Public Library. She had passed Paul
Hegarty in the street outside, and on impulse followed him in. She now
had the problem of how to attract his attention. The last thing she
wanted to do was walk up and ask him to shag her. A film came into her
head.  Angie dickenson dropping her glove in "Dressed to kill". Her
intended lover had picked it up, followed her out to her taxi, got in
the back with her and given her the big one. It might work for her.

Paul knew she was ready by the way she followed him inside. He was in
no hurry. If she was prepared to go to this trouble to be near him,
she would make the next move as well. As she stood up from the bench
and headed for the door, her car keys rattled across the library
floor. She made no move to retrieve them even though she must have
been alerted by the noise. Pauls next move was obvious.

Pretending not to hear her keys fall wasn't easy. To Inge, it sounded
like someone had kicked over a dustbin, but no-one looked up from
their books. When she got to the door, she risked a surreptitious look
backwards. Her keys were missing ...... and so was he. So far so good.

The walk to her car seemed interminable, she moved deliberately
neither dawdling too much in case it became too obvious, nor rushing
to get it over with. At the car door she stopped and went through an
elaborate pretense of failing to find her keys. Her sigh of reief when
he appeared from nowhere and dangled them in front of her was nothing
to do with finding her keys.  Her plan seemed to be working perfectly.
Steeling herself she swivelled to face her saviour.

"Thank you! Oh, it's Mr Hegarty isn't it?" she gushed.

"Indeed, Ms Rassmussen?"

He leaned across her to open the door. The smell of his cologne
drifted to her nose as his face passed within inches of hers. She had
to force herself not to close the gap and kiss it. 

"Please!" he said, indicating her seat with an extravagent wave of his
hand.

She sat, knees primly together, feet on the kerb, and looked up at him
with what she hoped was a "come hither" look.

"I think I shall take you to lunch to buy that drink I offered"

Not knowing how to repond to such a direct instruction from a man she
hardly knew, she decided to stall for time and swung her legs into the
car. Or at least she would have done had he not deftly stood on the
toe of one shoe. The effect was humiliating for Inge. One leg
travelled as intended into the footwell of the car. The other remained
pinned to the pavement, splaying her legs, causing her dress to ride
up her thighs, and giving any passers-by an uninterrupted view of her
stocking tops and Janet Reger camiknickers. If she expected him to
take advantage of the situation she was disappointed. His eyes never
left hers. Over his shoulder, she could see a couple of youths nudging
each other at the show she was being forced to put on. She felt the
colour rise to her cheeks as one of the boys made wanking gestures to
his mate. Still Paul's eyes never left hers.

"... be there at twelve thirty. I may be late, but wait....."

She snapped out of her reverie as she felt his foot innocuously slide
off hers, releasing her leg to swiftly join it's partner. Looking
down, she read the card he had put in her hand. She knew the Cafe
Parisienne. She would not be late.


					=========================
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!..... The bass drummed through his head, the
flashing lights drilling into his eyeballs. 

"This is definitely not my scene, must be getting old," he mused. In
truth, Dan Hegarty was in his element. He had always been a party
animal and exuded the natural aura of someone used to scoring in such
an environment. He leaned casually against the door frame, his eyes
scanning the room with apparent boredom. He caught the eye of several
winsome and interested women before finally spotting his target.
Claire Brady was small but, in the words of a similarly vertically
challenged well known comedian, perfectly formed. She sported a short
bob of bright auburn hair, streaked with dark red which, coupled with
her small pointed features gave her an attractive pixie-like
appearance. He knew from her file that she was married, but the
absence of a wedding ring suggested that wouldn't be an issue. For a
brief second their eyes met across the floor. He smiled, holding eye
contact until he forced her to avert her gaze, noting with
satisfaction the small smile she allowed herself as she turned away.
Now it was just a matter of time.

Two hours later, she allowed herself to be led by the hand into an
upstairs bedroom.

She loved parties. The music, drink, sometimes other substances, all
heightened her anticipation for her real turn-on - Sex. She had
married too early in life,at 19. Fortunately she had chosen well. Her
husband, Rick, was more interested in his Rugby and Golf pals, but was
comfortably well-off. His small inheritance removed any fear that he,
or she, would ever need money but she needed her own life. As Ricks
interests focussed more on the lads, she found herself doing more of
the girlie things with her own mates, clubbing, parties, getting
drunk, gambling and eventually, screwing around. A chance encounter
with an alcoholic businessman led to her biggest gamble, buying out
his small catering company. Although providing the funds, Rick could
never understand her need to have purpose in her life. He was a
misogynistic bastard at heart. Sure, her business was struggling, but
the time to worry about that was tomorrow. Tonight she had other
priorities.

As the door closed behind them, he took her in his arms and kissed
her. She could feel his surprise as she mashed her lips against his,
and ran her hand across the front of his trousers in response. He
lifted her by the waist, raising her off the floor. Turning around, he
carried her over to the bed and lowered her, none too gently onto it.
They both smiled at each other as he slowly removed his shirt and
unbuckled his belt. His trousers fell to the floor, leaving him
standing in a pair of boxers, every inch the conquering male. He
flipped her legs up, grasped her tiny knickers and pulled them off. If
the speed of their removal surprised her, it was nothing to the shock
of his next action. He swiftly knelt down, thrust his face between her
stocking tops, and coverd her already damp sex with his mouth. The
sensation was fantastic. Immediately his tongue began to tease her
clitoris, and the suction created by his mouth forced her to juice up
more than she ever thought possible. A long moan burst from her throat
as she pushed her hips at his thrusting tongue.

He stood up, gave her no time to recover, pulled her down the bed
until her legs, splayed, hung off the end on either side of him,
lowered himself on to her and thrust deep into her cunt.

"OOphh Give it to me, give it to me...."

She couldn't think of anything else to say. He began to pound in to
her, the end of his huge dick bumping against her cervix, until first
one, then a second climax coursed through her jerking torso. She bit
her lip to stifle her cry of delight, drawing blood as her teeth sank
into her engorged lower lip. Her long moan of pleasure slowly turned
into panting gratitude as he brought her to a shuddering finish.

"God", she thought to herself, "I just love this!"

					==========================

Vanessa Draper was nervous. She was a beautiful girl. Short, dark,
small delicate features set off by a pair of the largest dark blue
eyes you have ever seen. She was the sort of girl who could stop
traffic. She didn't ought to be nervous, but she was.

Three years ago, she would have expected to be nervous. Then she was
straight out of drama school, one of hundreds of budding starlets
looking for her big break. It had come in the most unexpected fashion.
She had been invited to join the audience in a television pop music
show by a friend and had been spotted by a scout looking for new
talent. An audition, an interview, and she landed a small part in a
new soap opera "City Slickers" centred on the City of London,  or "the
square mile" as it was known. The lure of the wheeling and dealing in
the world's greatest financial centre proved irresistable, and the
soap took off big time. At the same time, Vanessa proved not only to
be the most beautiful actress in the cast, but also to have that
indefineable quality that makes the camera love you. Her role grew.
Vanessa was the Soap Star of the moment.

Still, she was nervous. When Inge had told her about the interview,
she had been pretty blase about it. Now, as she sat outside the hotel
room waiting to meet them, it was a different matter. The door opened
and one of the most recognisable faces in Hollywood appeared.

"Miss Draper? we can see you now".

					==========================

Twelve-thirty he had said. It was now One-thirty. Much as she wanted
to see him, she had a meeting at two. Taking a last look around, and
seeing no Mr Hegarty, she gathered her bag, paid the bill for the
coffee she had been nursing, stood up, and made her way to the door.

Across the street, Paul Hegarty noted her leaving with quiet
amusement. He had spent the last hour leaning on the corner waiting to
test her commitment. It was time to turn the screw. He pushed off the
wall and strode purposefully across the street, every inch a committed
host late for a lunch date. He arrived a split second after she had
closed the door behind her, and set off back to the office, stuffing
the receipt in her small bag. She looked up just as they collided.

"Oh! It's you. I thought you had forgotten. I was just on my way back
to the office."

He smiled at her with condescention all over his face.

"I told you I might be late. I also told you to wait didn't I."

"Yes, you did."

"In that case it only seems right that you be punished. Meet me here
again tomorrow. Same time. Don't be late, oh!, he paused, make sure
you leave your underwear in the office or you will never get your
drink."

Her mouth opened in astonishment, but he turned and was gone, leaving
her looking like a fish out of water, her mouth opening and closing,
but no words of indignation coming out.

					==========================

"Left a bit, a bit more, just a tad, that's it. Great!"

Mike Levine was getting good at this. He was a brilliant photographer
who had carved a serious career for himself in the glamour and Porn
market. Mark Harrison, head of security at GDS had recruited him early
on, and now, here he was exercising his not inconsiderable skills on a
new venture.

The house was a mansion. It had fourteen suites, several bedrooms,
pool, Sauna, steam room, Snooker room, and a small cinema/theatre.
Now, with the positioning of the final camera, all but two of the
rooms were fully wired for film and sound. No-one but Mark, Mike
himself, and Napoleon (Boney to his friends) Wiltshire, his trusty
helper and stud, knew the location of the cameras, and it was going to
stay that way.

The mansion, deep in the Sussex countryside was owned by a wealthy
Arab on behalf of GDS, but he had never been there. Officially, the
house was leased to Hugo Challenor, famously wild man of the acting
profession, who used the house simply as a location for one long round
of parties for the rich and famous. In reality it was a GDS honey trap
with Challenor the front man, Mark Harrison's creation for scandal
generation.

Of the two rooms not covered by cameras, one was the Loft appartment,
whose use was restricted only to those people who had Paul Hegarty's
personal approval. It was usually empty. The other was where Mike now
made his way. A discrete security system limited access to a small
room tucked away at the back of the house. No one would find it if
they were not invited. Two of the four walls were covered in TV
monitors and banks of recording equipment. From here, Mike Levine was
master of his kingdom. Ruler of his technological empire, Mike had
more than two hundred cameras at his disposal. Nothing would happen in
this house without Mike knowing about it. He walked across to the main
isolation box and powered up his control room.

"We have lift off!" he muttered under his breath. "Let the games
begin."

					==========================

Dan and Paul sat together in Paul's Canary Wharf office discussing the
events of the past two weeks.

"So why don't we interview Casino lady?"

Dan looked slightly abashed as he answered.

"Well, there were two reasons really."

"Mmm"

"The first was that I found a couple of names in her flat. I
recognised one of them as Vegas Mafiosi, so that slowed me down for a
start."

"And the second?"

"This is embarassing."

"I don't care. Tell me."

"OK", but don't laugh."

Paul looked slightly bemused, but nodded his agreement, waiting for
his brothers revelations.

"Well, when we got back to her hotel room, she excused herself to get
changed. That's when I looked round and noticed the names. She came
back into the room and fell straight into my arms, so I had no trouble
screwing her, quite the contrary in fact."

"I'm all ears."Paul smiled.

"Well I kissed her. When I ran my hands up to grab her arse, she
starts panting. I'm not joking it sounded like a dog in heat. and it
gets worse. I strip off and stick my dick up her cunt. She loves it,
just like we expected she would, but suddenly I hear this noise. It
sounds like someone had started up a buzz saw, a low quiet rattle with
a background hum. I had never heard a noise like it.  The next thing,
the volume starts going up, and I realise its coming from her. I only
poke her a couple of times before the hum becomes a full blooded wail,
and by the time I get some speed up she's screaming at the top of her
voice. The noise was fucking awful."

"Is that it?" Paul started to chuckle as the story unfolded.

"Not likely!" The screaming gets louder and louder. The guy next door
starts banging on the wall. Then the guy on the other side starts
banging on HIS wall shouting "Shut the fuck up" or something similar.
Well I'd had enough by then, but she wouldn't shut up.  She starts
doing railway whistle impressions, and someone from the Hotel staff
starts banging on the door telling her to shut up because she's
disturbing the other guests.

Paul by this time was helpless, tears of mirth running down his
cheeks.

"Anyway I thought if I got off her, she would quieten down. Fat
Chance! While I'm struggling into my trousers, she's giving it the
five finger shuffle. Whole fucking hand in up to the wrist. Honest
Paul, any self respecting bloke would run a mile, and I did. I
sprinted out the door and legged it fast.

"Guess you decided not to invite her for seconds then? laughed Paul,
regaining at least a vestige of control."

"Too right"

The two sat in silence trying their best to acquire sufficient dignity
to sensibly discuss their options with the other two women. Dan had
been completely won over by Claire Brady. He was sure that Paul would
agree. She was up for it, and would be ideal. In the meantime, Pauls
investment in Ingeborg Rassmussen had convinced him and he was coming
to the same conclusion about her. It took them only a few minutes to
make their decision.
Do both!. Claire could run a catering company where the waitresses
would offer the full service, and if Inge passed her final test, she
could run the exclusive executive service as an extension to her PR
Portfolio. 

"In that case, why don't you get Claire started. Saturday's party
would be ideal. We will only need a few girls, and Sonja will be able
to provide them. In the meantime, I will finish checking out our PR
Lady."

"OK! Consider it done. Are you going to the party?"

"No. Leave that to the boys. I think it's best to keep our distance
don't you?"

"Yeah your right, but it's a pity eh?"

					==========================

It had been a long morning for Ingeborg Rassmussen. She sat behind her
large desk staring into space. Her secretary had been so concerned she
had cancelled Inge's appointments for the morning without being asked.
She knew she had to decide now. It would take her exactly twenty
minutes to reach the cafe once she left, so she had to make her mind
up. She decided! She wouldn't be treated like that by any man. In a
highly agitated state she went for a pee. Sitting in the confines of
the toilet stall, the gushing of the warm liquid did nothing to put
her mind at rest. She stared at the knickers lying in a heap around
her ankles. In that moment she knew she would succumb. It was the
second time that morning she had made such a decision. When she had
dressed in the morning, she had decided to wear a loose jumper which
disguised the fact that she had left off her bra. She didn't want
anyone in the office noticing that she had removed it at lunchtime,
they might rightly assume the worst. At least, as she stuffed her
knickers in her bag, no-one would notice she had left them off.
No-one, that is, but that damned Paul Hegarty. At 12.30am she was
outside the cafe. In a reversal of yesterday's role, Paul came out as
she approached.

"Glad you could make it. Follow me!"

She tailed behind him like some family pet until they reached a dark
metallic green Porsche at the curb. He walked round to the passenger
seat and held open the door. As she lowered herself into the seat it
was impossible to hide her nakedness from him. This time he did not
look into her eyes. He stood back and gave her legs an admiring gaze
all the way from her slightly parted knees up to her womanhood itself.
Without comment he closed the door, walked swiftly round to the
driver's side and climbed in.

He drove steadily into the city for the few minutes it took to reach a
carpark at the base of a tall steel and glass tower. They entered the
elevator, where he extracted a small key from his pocket and used it
to operate an unmarked button at the top of the control panel. When he
spoke, it was with his usual perfunctory manner.

"Take off your blouse and skirt."

She looked at him with an unspoken plea in her eyes. "Don't make me do
this" was what she was thinking, but no words came out. As the
elevator doors closed she slipped off her blouse, and dropped her
skirt, leaving herself standing in nothing more than hold-up stockings
and high heels.

"Face the corner."
She did so, as the elevator began it's journey skywards. Judging by
the regular "pings" at each floor, they were about half way up when
the lift came to a stop.

"Stay!"

She did so. Looking in the reflection of the polished steel panels she
could see people moving past. None gave her a glance. As the door
started to close, horror of horrors, a young woman hugging a bundle of
files to her chest rushed into the confined space between her and
Paul.

"Good morning Janice."

"Good morning Mr Hegarty."

Inge couldn't believe it. Although the girl was looking intently at
her bare arse, from the conversation you would not have known that
Inge was there. Her face, by now, was the colour of beetroot with
embarrassment and her relief was palpable when the elevator finally
stopped, and Janice got out.

At the next stop, Paul summoned her to get out herself. The door
opened into the lobby of an opulent penthouse suite furnished in the
finest timber and fabrics. As she looked around her, Paul stood
behind, smiling. Any moment now her conversion from Ice-maiden
businesswomen to his plaything would be complete.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her across the plush
carpet, through a door and into what turned out to be a bedroom,
dominated by a huge bed at least two metres in any direction.Still
without speaking, he stood her against the bed and pushed her gently
until she knelt on the floor, bent over the end of the bed. He made no
attempt at conversation as he removed his clothes, leaving Inge
sweating with anticipation as she waited for the fucking she thought
was coming.

The blow, when it came, took her completely by surprise. The pain was
incredible. He struck her across her buttock just once with the flat
of his hand, causing her to scream in pain. As she cried out, she
tensed herself waiting for the next one. Instead, he knelt beside her
and gently began to massage the bright red imprint he had left on her
white skin.

"Next time I give you an instruction, you will know how to comply
won't you."

His words, whispered gently to her, seemed like a caress.

"I will" she whispered through her tears in return. The thought of not
doing so never crossed her mind.

As his penis nudged gently at her opening, she could only regard the
thought of it as reward. She knew how to behave for him, and the
wonderful feeling as he slowly entered her would guarantee her
subservience for as long as he wanted her. The slickness of her cunt
eased his progress as the huge dick slowly found it's way 
deep inside her. Her muscles tightened as she responded to the
beautiful invasion, alternately squeezing and relaxing as she warmed
to his presence. He slowly wound up the pace. the heat in her groin
began to affect the rest of her as she felt her arousal reaching
bursting point. Faster and faster he began to pump in and out of her
quim. Laying with her face in the bedcovers, Inge took a mouthful of
fabric and bit down hard, fighting to contain the orgasm which was
about to break. Still he speeded up. His rhythmical pounding asgainst
her arse could be contained no longer. She felt like she would die.She
couldn't breath, it was as though her lungs had shut down. All four
limbs went in to spastic seizure, jerking uncontrollably as orgasm
after orgasm ripped through her, and he spent inside her.

He was the perfect gentleman. Taking her gently by the hand, he led
her to the shower, where they made slow languorous love together, each
taking obvious pleasure in the ministrations of the other. Afterwards
he dressed her, making his selection from a closet containing the most
beautiful designer clothes. After a gourmet meal served en-suite, he
drove her home, leaving her at the front door with a chaste kiss.

"Come to my office tomorrow. 3.30pm." He didn't need to add "Don't be
late." 

She knew she would be there.

					==========================
The proposition was simple. One of Paul's people would call the agency
and book a celebrity to appear at a particular function providing an
escort to a major player of some sort. Businessman, Politician, anyone
wanting a high profile companion. Inge knew this was normal, what was
the big deal. When Paul described what would be expected afterwards,
she almost had apoplexy.

"You can't ask Stars to do that! For gods sake it would be the end of
their careers if it were to get out. There is no way any of my stars
will agree to that."

"Inge. I own you and your company don't I."

"Yes!"

"Then when I tell you something what do you do?"

"What I am told."

"Good girl. Now! Follow me."

He led the way into a small room. A screen on one wall was faced by a
small gathering of comfortable sofas and chairs. Paul indicated a
chair, and Inge sat down, a puzzled expression on her face.

At his signal, the lights dimmed, and a flickering image appeared on
the screen. For a couple of minutes, Inge absorbed the atmosphere of
the party she was watching. Although it was a real, spontaneous party,
it was filmed by a professional, and would not have looked out of
place in a television play. She recognised several of the attendees as
actors, pop musicians, singers, and artists from her own books. The
camera cut to an intimate discussion going on in one corner of the
main room. A young arab was engaged in deep conversation with Vanessa
Draper, one of Inge's most valued clients. The boy on the screen took
Vanessa by the hand and led her from the room.

Inge glanced sideways. Paul sat expressionless looking at Inge's
reaction as the film unfolded. Quizzically she returned her gaze to
the screen.

Vanessa and the arab were in a new room, a small bedroom. Although the
lights were dimmed, or even off, the film was crystal clear and showed
the youth leaning against the wall waving a small polythene bag
between his fingertips. Vanessa was laughing , playfully wrestling
with him as she tried to grab the bag from his fingers. He raised his
other hand and wagged his finger from side to side in silent
admonishment.

"Naughty! Naughty!" she heard clearly as they smiled at each other.

"OK you win. You can have it."

"Thank you Jamal, thank you."

"Hey, not so fast. I will serve it to you."

"Ok, I'll find a mirror."

"You won't be needing that." As he spoke, he deftly flicked open his
fly and exposed a long thin dick which sprang to attention as if on
command.

"See what an effect a beautiful naughty lady has on my dick?"

"It's a very handsome dick," Vanessa giggled.

Jamal slit the top of the bag with his fingernail, and before anything
could be said, spread the white powder in a long thin line along his
erect weapon. Vanessa burst out laughing and kneeled in front of him.

"You are wicked, but if this is the price I pay, then pay I shall."

Jamal had stopped laughing now, his face takng on a more serious look
as the most beautiful actress on television lowered her head, placed
her nose on the end of the line, and snorted the coke directly off his
manhood. She raised her head as the rush hit her, before looking back
at his tool. 

"You had better lick it off you naughty girl, before anyone sees it."

"This is mine. No-one else is going to get any of it."

Vanessa lowered her head and licked along the edge of his tool.
Jamal's hand came up behing her and gently guided his dick into her
mouth. Her eyes closed as she savoured the salty taste of him mingling
with the sharpness of the coke, and she began to move her head
backwards and forwards along its length. Jamal also closed his eyes
and leaned back against the wall for support. As he came rapidly to a
climax, Vanessa began to suck, drawing his watery sperm into her mouth
and down her throat. 

"That was great, just what I needed," muttered Jamal.

"Me too. See you in a couple of hours."

Inge looked away from the screen as the clip finished. 

"OK! so one of my clients takes coke. They probably all do. It still
doesn't mean that you will get her to do what you want."

"Inge. Trust me. Jamal is the nephew of Sheikh al-Benarbia, Emir of
Qualia. The Emir will not be pleased when he finds out about this."

"It will still take more than the threat of public exposure of a coke
snort to persuade someone like Vanessa."

"Of course. What you .... and she doesn't know is that Jamal is only
14. The public can be unforgiving when it comes to paedophiles."

					==========================

The curtains were closed, the room darkened by the deep purple drapes.
On the edge of the bed, Vanessa Draper sat staring at the wall. She
couldn't believe how she had got herself into this situation. It
wasn't unusual for Vanessa to act the part of a paid escort, but this
was out of her control. There had always been serious money to be made
for accompanying an upwardly mobile young businessman or budding new
star to a public function. Sometimes it would be a simple case of self
promotion for either or both of them. Of course, the public had no
idea how these matches were made, and probably wouldn't care even if
they did. Vanessa was therefore not suprised when Inge explained how a
client had contracted Vanessa's presence to escort a wealthy Arab
businessman to the premiere of the latest James Bond Film.  

Things had gone well. Sheikh Suleiman had come in person to collect
her. As they climbed happily out of the cream Rolls Royce, flashguns
popped, shutters whirred and the smiles were genuine enough. Vanessa
was enjoying herself. Her host appeared the perfect gentleman, and a
good time seemed assured.

It was in the Rolls on the way back to her hotel that he had dropped
the bombshell.

"You will join me for a drink in my suite." It was a statement, not a
question, and she naturally put it down to perhaps a misunderstanding
with the language.

"I don't think so, thank you. I'm tired. It has been a really nice
evening, but I really must get back."

"Please, watch this, then we will discuss the rest of the evening." He
produced a compact disc from the armrest pocket slipped a player from
the storage unit beneath the seat, and sat back as she watched the
video unfold.

"So you see, you will join me for a drink in my suite."

"If you say so."

The atmosphere in the car changed. Cool was an understatement. She
knew that her career would be in tatters if the disc were to be made
public, and whilst she knew she must do everything to prevent him
going to the press, she was not sure that being fucked by him was a
price she was prepared to pay.

"I could call your bluff, you know."

"I don't think so. Jamal is just a kid. You will go to jail. Just
think where your life will be then."

That had all been an hour ago. The Sheikh had entertained her with
music, a couple of drinks, even a funny story or two, but now it was
time for her performance. The Sheikh pushed open the bedroom door, and
stood still for a while as his eyes got accustomed to the gloom.

"You still have your clothes on. I thought I told you to take them
off."

Vanessa stood up and swiftly removed her dress, bra and pants. There
was no point in playing for time, she had no choice. He was determined
to make her fuck her way out of her predicament. He walked across in
front of her and looked her in the eyes. His hands reached across and
grabbed each of her breasts, fondling and twisting them slightly as he
felt their weight.

"Pity you don't have bigger tits." he murmured, more to himself than
her. "Let me see your arse." He handled her like a piece of prime
horseflesh. Professional, smooth, running his hands over her buttocks
to test thei firmness. She stood still, humiliated by the whole
experience.

"Bend!" The instruction was clear, and she bent at the waist offering
her bottom to his gaze. 

"Spread the cheeks." She began to really get worried now. Despite her
fairly free attitude to sex, she was still an anal virgin, and she had
a horrible suspicion where this was going.

"No. I won't allow you to touch me there."

"It doesn't have anything to do with you. Do It!"

"No!"

Sheikh Suleiman looked down at the perfect globes presented to him.
For a moment he toyed with the idea of threatening once again to
expose her to the authorities.

"Fuck it!"he though to himself. "This has gone on long enough!"

He grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, and pushed her down on to
the bed. She wriggled free, turned over and began to beat her fists
into his arms and shoulders. Struggling, he managed to capture both
her wrists in one hand, and slap her across the face with the other.
Vanessa knew she could not get away. Her eyes filled with tears and
she began to plead with him.

"Please, don't rape me. Please, let me go. I'll do anything you want,
but don't hurt me."

The Sheikh was in no mood to negotiate. He let go of her wrists,
grabbed her by the ankles and wrenched them apart. Then with a heave,
he lifted them high, and pushed them over her shoulders, leaving her
gasping for breath as her thighs pushed down on her breasts, forcing
her deep into the mattress. Suleiman gathered her ankles in his left
wrist, and spat on the middle finger of his right hand. Vanessa began
to whimper, shaking her head in tiny movements, her knees tight
against her cheeks. Suleiman was beginning to enjoy hmself now. He
slowly rubbed the end of his fnger against the little rosebud of her
arsehole. The effect was instant. Desperate to avoid it, Vanessa began
to wriggle her arse. The movement only succeeded in helping his finger
slide into it. Gripping her sphinctre muscles she desperately tried to
force his invasive digit out, but there was no way he was going to let
that happen. 

She felt his hand move away, and for a moment thought that he was
going to stop. She couldn't have been more wrong. The end of his dick
replace the finger. It was much bigger, and she was sure he would
never get it in. She clenched herself with all the force she could
muster to keep him from having his way with her. He leaned over,
bending his head to hers, and whispered in her ear.

"That's it sweetheart. Push! Stop me if you can. Make it difficult.
Keep me out. Don't let me do it. Force me away."

She responded. Gritting her teeth she resisted as hard as she could.
Because of her position even drawing breath was difficult, but she
managed somehow. Panic began to get the upper hand. She was keeping
him at bay, but she was tired.

"Come on girl! Push! Stop me! Harder!"

Suddenly he thrust hard at her entrance. With a mammoth effort she
managed to repel him, squeezing every last ounce of effort fom her
tired muscles. When he withdrew and thrust a second time she had
nothing left. Breath gushed from her body as his dick forced it's way
into her rectum. Suddenly her sphinctre released its grip. With a
small cry of triumph Suleiman thrust the whole 10 inches of his
manhood deep into her bowels. Tears welled up in her eyes and a scream
of pain filled the room.

He stopped, fully inserted, and looked down into her big tearful eyes.

"See! That wasn't so bad was it!"

She could have hit him. Her arsehole ached from the stretching it was
receiving. Her bowels were full of dick, making her feel like she
needed a shit. How can he say it wasn't so bad?

He started to withdraw, her rosebud closing behind him, then he pushed
again. Her arse opened. Easier this time, out, in, out, in. With each
stroke, the ache diminished. His rhythm contagious, she began to
respond. As he felt her relax, he let go of her ankles and allowed he
legs more freedom, lessening the pressure on her ribcage and allowing
her to breathe more easily.

Vanessa became confused. The heat generated by his body had turned
sexual. Her arse still ached, but a sort of glow now extended round
the front to her quim. The regularity of his thrusts was building the
same sexual response in her that regular sex had in the past. As the
heat built, her excitement grew, her breathing became shallow. Spears
of pleasure caused her to hold her breath, clenching her teeth, then
gasping great lungfuls of air as she let go. When he slipped a hand
down between them, the touch of his fingers on her clitoris caused an
instant climax. Her whole body was on fire. She threw her arms out as
her whole being responded to the shards of pleasure coursing through
her veins. 

She was still crying. Tears were still filling her eyes and running
down past her ears onto the sheet below her, but now she didn't know
whether they were tears of anger or joy.

Suleiman smiled down at her.

"See. I told you it wasn't so bad.

					==========================
"What am I going to say to her?" Inge thought to herself. She had
heard nothing from Vanessa for nearly a week after her assignation
with the Sheikh. The plan was to keep clients in the dark as far as
her involvement was concerned but although Paul had reassured her that
everything would be OK, she didn't feel in control. As a defense
mechanism, she had thrown herself into her work, but she still
couldn't get rid of the nagging doubt at the back of her mind. Vanessa
had phoned this morning to arrange a meeting. She sounded chirpy
enough, but Inge could tell much of that was "Front". As Sally, her
secretary, showed Vanessa into the office, she had no idea what to
expect.

Vanessa sat down, an unsure smile on her lips. She didn't know how
much of this stuff Inge knew. Did she know about the tape? Did she
know about her after-the-show performance? Would there be a repeat
demand?

"How are you?"

"I'm fine, you?"

"I'm OK as well thanks"

For fifteen or twenty minutes they politely discussed almost every
aspect of Vanessas career. New scripts, contract negotiations for ten
new episodes of "City Slickers", Personal appearances, clothes,
hairstyles, almost anything, in fact to avoid having to discuss
Vanessa'a night with the Sheikh.

A discreet knock at the door broke the tension. Her secretary's head
appeared around the door. I'm sorry Ms Rassmussen, but there's a
gentleman from Olympian Films here. He says he needs to speak with you
and Miss Draper. Before Inge had time to respond, a tall dark-suited
man pushed gently passed Sally and advanced into the room. Smiling
broadly, he advanced on Inge and profferred a well manicured hand. 

"Ms Rassmussen, It's a pleasure to meet you." He turned to Vanessa.
"And the lovely Miss Draper."

"Likewise." swooned Vanessa, bowled over by the charm of the
good-looking visitor.

"I'm sorry to intrude like this, without notice, but I dropped in to
arrange an appointment with you both, and learned to my delight that
you were both here today. Oh! I'm sorry, please let me intoduce
myself. My name is Raschid Al-Benarbia, Chief financial officer of
Olympian Films."

Vanessa did a double take. Al-benarbia, where had she heard that name
before? If Vanessa didn't immediately recognise the name, Inge
certainly did. She shook hands gently and invited him to sit down.

"What can we do for you? Mr Al-Benarbia?"

"Please, call me Raschid. I'm here to impart some good news so let me
not waste your time. As you know, a few weeks ago, Miss Draper
attended an interview for a support role in our new adventure movie.
As you also know, the movie is scheduled to start filming in three
months. I need to know whether Miss Draper will be available given her
other commitments."

Inge glanced across at Vanessa who still seemed to be thinking about
something else.

"Our only unalterable commitment so far is the filming of ten episodes
of her weekly soap. With six months already in the can already, they
will be complete in eight weeks time, so availability should not be a
problem."

"Good! Then I should tell you Miss Draper that we were very impressed
by your interview and your on-screen performances." He let the last
statement hang in the air as though testing the atmosphere. Inge did
not react at all. She still didn't want Vanessa to know that she had
been party to the fit-up. "You should know, he continued,  that Sheikh
Suleiman was very impressed by the hospitality you extended to him.
The publicity he gained from having you on his arm at the premiere has
won him a number of contracts and he is very grateful."

Desperate to change the direction of the conversation, Inge spoke up.

"Can we take it then that Vanessa has got the part?"

"Indeed not! Vanessa is a star. Our company can make much use of such
a performer in the future. We have therefore decided to give Vanessa
the female lead."

Vanessa's mouth dropped open with a mixture of exultation, shock and
fear. In an instant three thoughts raced into her mind. She had got
the part, her sore arse was the price she had paid, and Al-Benarbia
was the name of the little shit who had set her up with the
coke-blowjob.

Raschid continued.

"I now have some further business to discuss with your agent, Miss
Draper, if you would please excuse us. Welcome to the world of
Hollywood."

Vanessa gathered herself.  She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It
also looked as though Inge knew nothing about the video, so she had
best keep it that way. Within months she would be mixing with the
elite of Los Angeles. What's a sore arse in that grand scheme of
things?

A performance was required. A broad smile passed over her lovely face,
lighting up the office. "Thank you Mr Al-Benarbia. That is the best
news I have ever had. I can't wait to hear the details when you have
worked them out with Inge." With that she turned and strode out of the
office leaving Inge and Raschid smiling knowingly at each other.

When she had gone, Inge spoke quietly and urgently.

"What now?"

"Nothing. She's now the first filly in our "stable". We will use her
when we need to - never too frequently - and she will become one of
the biggest stars in Hollywood in return."

"That's not fair, you know. You should leave her alone now, she has
paid for her chance of fame."

"Believe me dear, chance has nothing to do with it. GDS board members
own 80 percent of Olympian films. If we want to make, or break, a star
we can do it. No question. If people want to trade power to fuck a
star like Vanessa, it's in our interest to make her as big a star as
possible No?" The hardest job will be to keep it secret. These girls
must never suspect that you are in on the scam. If word gets out,
people will stop using your agency, and we will have to start again.
Now let's get down to work. Get your files out. Lets see who's
next..............



The End

The stories of James Anderton can be found at www.storiesonline.net
and on the ASSTR website (www.asstr-mirror.org).

Copyright James Anderton 2002

Please don't post on paid websites, and please make appropriate
attribution on free ones.
Thanks
James

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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