Within minutes, the interview closes and Tricia and her cameraman are out the door. Gerard and Yasmine follow soon after.
Arsen and I eventually make our way to his office, where he closes the door as I pull myself into him and kiss him.
I can feel my breasts mash against his hard body. I can feel his hands squeeze my ass and I gasp as a finger travels lightly over the opening to my pussy.
Unfortunately, I’m going to have to leave you here. Don’t worry, I’m not kicking you out. You haven’t seen enough yet. There’s plenty more to come. Don’t you ever worry about that.
There’s always more to cum.
Arsen and Ashley in Rio
On the night we arrived at Rio de Janeiro, the air was heavy and warm, and a gentle breeze blew in from the Atlantic, stirring the large leaves hanging atop the palm trees lining
the waterfront.
Just like I always dreamed of.
When I was a little girl I used to dream of, one day, moving to Brazil. In these dreams, I hung by the beach all day, and drank caipirinhas all night. Of course, these were the kind of dreams I knew would never become true – in fact, I never expected I’d visit Brazil.
Sure, Arsen and I aren’t exactly moving to Brazil, but we’ve already bought a large flat here, in Rio. You see, we’re already dominating the English-speaking market so firmly that we’ve started looking into the foreign marketplace. Adult entertainment is needed even where people don’t speak English, right? Sex is, after all, the universal language.
And to think that this all started as a game, one where both our hearts were at stake. It’s been what, two years? God, it feels like it was a long time ago that my heart was torn between the voice on my phone and the man I knew as Arsen. But then God smile upon me, and both men turned out to be only one.
Every woman deserves an happy ending, and that was mine.
Of course, our story didn’t end there. More than just a couple, we turned into a team - one as efficient as profitable. Our company has grown so large that we’ve brought adult entertainment to the mainstream. I mean, we’ve already been on the cover of Times magazine (and a gazillion other magazines)! No wonder, though: we’re the biggest players in the industry when it comes to the States and Europe. And now we’re looking to expand.
After cutting a deal with China so that we could enter their marketplace, we then did the same with India, and now we’re looking for a foothold in the Portuguese speaking market. Of course, it also helps that Brazil is one of the most beautiful countries on Earth. And that’s why we decided to buy an apartment here. I mean, who doesn’t want to call Rio de Janeiro their second home?
I know this might sound crazy (and precocious), but even though I’ve never visited before I’m already in love with everything Brazilian. The samba and bossa nova, the people, the easy going attitude and their lack of embarrassment when it comes to all things sex. I mean, all you have to do is take a walk by the beach and you’ll easily realize that, here in Brazil, people aren’t ashamed of their bodies.
“You were right,” Arsen says, taking my hand in his and offering me one of his wide smiles. “This place really is amazing.”
“I told you. I spent enough time hiking through Google Images to know that we had to come here,” I laugh, squeezing back his hand as I let my gaze wander out to the beach, the soft sound of the waves like a sensual whisper. We’re walking through the waterfront, hand in hand, and unwinding from a long day of meetings. And when I say long, I really mean it – life moves at a real slow pace in Brazil, and that extends to the way business works in here. From what I’ve seen, being late is expected in such a way that it almost becomes mandatory.
After more than twelve hours of meetings (or twelve hours of waiting for meetings) we had dinner at L’Etoile, one of the best restaurants in the city, and then decided to go for a stroll at the waterfront. It’s December now, and I’m wearing a summery blue dress – for someone used to the unforgiving weather of New York City, it almost feels like I’ve travelled to Heaven itself. Even Arsen himself seems to have bought into the whole carefree mindset that seems to make this city come alive.
He’s wearing shorts, a black shirt that makes him look like the second coming of Apollo, and flip-flops. And, let me tell you, even dressed this casually… Arsen looks like the most handsome man on Earth. Yeah, I know you’re rolling your eyes right now. But don’t think that I’m saying all this about Arsen because he’s my man. I’m saying it because he’s my man and because it’s the truth.
“God, I love this place,” I say, taking a deep breath and allowing the salty freshness of the sea to make my brain dance inside my skull. “It’s even better than what I imagined when I was a little kid.”
“That’s because you’re here with me,” he says and, even though he’s teasing me right now, I can’t help but turn to him and smile. He stops walking and smiles back at me; I go on tiptoes and brush my lips against his, closing my eyes and allowing this moment to be engraved on my mind for all of eternity. Even though Arsen was joking, it doesn’t make it any less true: being here with him turns a beautiful moment into a perfect one.
To our left, tall apartment buildings rise toward the skies, their majestic silhouette towering over us; to our right, a large stripe of sand that leads to the endless ocean. Despite the late hour, there are still people in the street – shirtless men wearing flip-flops and women wearing nothing but an almost transparent dress over a skimpy bikini. It seems that, here in Rio, life is an endless stroll toward the beach.
Sitting on one of the stones benches in the waterfront, a young man with a velvety voice plucks at his guitar, his eyes closed as he allows his voice to shape up a quiet but beautiful bossa nova ballad. Forget about Paris – there’s nothing quite like the subtle and down-to-earth loving ways of Brazil.
“Wait,” I tell Arsen, holding him by his arm as I fish for the wallet inside my purse. Grabbing it, I take a one-hundred-dollar bill and lay it inside the guitar case laying at the feet of the young guitarist. I know that one hundred dollars is a lot to give for a few seconds of good music, but sometimes it’s worth it – besides, it helps that me and Arsen have more than few million sitting idly in our bank accounts.
“Obrigado, senhora,” the young man breathes out, thanking me in his singing voice, and I can’t tell if he’s still singing or just speaking. Brazilians talk in such a way that they always seem like they’re singing.
“De nada,” I manage to reply, narrowing my eyes as I try to remember the little Portuguese I know. I’m placing my wallet back inside my purse when the loud roar of an engine drowns out the bossa nova chords coming from the guitar. I spin around, trying to see where that loud sound comes from, and I do it just in time to see a motorbike jumping onto the sidewalk, two men riding on it. They’re just a few feet away from me now, and the guy riding on the back reaches for me with one hand.
I’m so stunned I don’t even move.
Grabbing my purse as they ride past me, the man gives it a tug and I feel the strap from the purse burning down my arm. I fall onto the floor as the purse is yanked from me, and I let out a cry of pain as my knees grazes the floor.
“Fuck!” Arsen cries out, looking from the guys in the bike to me. Going down on one knee, he then grabs me by the hand and picks me up from the floor. “Are you okay?”