Serving Two Masters 1


Isabel dropped her carry-on somewhere between first and business class on her way to the back of the plane. She was one of the last stand-by names called on this two-stop flight to Paris. She took little notice of the rugged man who helped her settle into her seat. By his slight accent and disheveled travel attire, she dismissed him as a Frenchman. Something else, she thought, without much more than a furtive smile and quick thank you.

It had been exactly 36 days since she graduated from college and 22 since she married the artist. No one knew. Not her parents. Not her best friends. Not even Vivi. It was a mercy marriage to keep her latest lover from being deported. No one would ever know and the bureaucratic procedure of residency procurement would come and go, probably within the course of their affair, Isabel reasoned. No harm. No foul. Impetuous, she was not one to ponder consequences. This was just another of her senior year adventures, like her junior year in Brazil; a brief affair with her sociology professor; and, her first lesbian fling with a woman she met on Venice Beach.

Isabel’s new husband was Luca, a member of the Euro trash Thursday club that would frequent Sarno’s, an old Mafia dive where she was a part-time student and full-time singing waitress. Tall, muscular, with chiseled features and a long mane of curly brown hair, Luca was every waitress’ overt fantasy man and even more so because his English was terrible. Isabel could not care less and although she understood every word he said in Italian, she feigned ignorance for as long as it was opportune.

She felt very woman-of-the-world when she met Luca, a previously married Italian 5 years her senior. Luca had described his marriage as a bright flame that had burned out quickly, and Isabel could imagine how it was possible. He had been the first to dominate her and the experience had ignited her passions like no one ever had.

Nicely settled, Isabel ordered a glass of wine, eying the flight attendant with a strange mix of curiosity, wondering if she had sex with the rest of the flight crew and if she would be carded for the drink.

As soon as Isabel finished her mini bottle of wine, another one appeared.

“I didn’t order this, but thanks, you must have read my mind,” Isabel told the attendant.

“It’s from the guy in 4C,” she said. She looked in his direction with the intent of offering up a thank you nod, but he was reading.

“Handsome, isn’t he?” the flight attendant said. “He’s a famous photographer or something. Does this route pretty often.”

“LA to San Francisco?” Isabel asked.

“No, LA/Paris,” she answered.

Their conversation was broken by an announcement over the aircraft’s PA. Tonight’s flight to Paris canceled due to mechanical issues. The next flight would be in the morning; airline staff to provide hotel vouchers for Paris-bound passengers. A collective rumble of dissatisfaction filled the plane as the lead flight attendant took over the intercom offering instructions on baggage, ground transportation to hotels and something about free round-trip travel.

Isabel tuned out. She was to have been in Paris three days ago and Luca was waiting. Things weren’t really strained between the newlyweds – they didn’t know each other well enough yet – but Isabel’s delay put a damper on his plans to show her off to his friends in Paris and then head to Rome in a couchette on the TGV.

Isabel went to freshen her make-up, mostly out of boredom before the plane landed, finding herself in a reverie about her first anal encounter ever, with Luca, who, like many European men reveled in her gasps of pain until her firm, full buttocks opened to the fullness of his long thick cock and he could ride her with abandon.

Isabel pulled her tits out of her lacy bra and fingered them, then brushed them with full palms, like Luca did. She brought one breast to her tongue and strained to lick it, and then the other. This was too much work, but it felt so good that she wanted more – as much pleasure as she could give herself. Isabel then pinched her breasts firmly until the pain reverberated throughout her body. She observed her own arousal in the mirror as her nipples doubled in size and her pupils dilated.

She stared at herself intently, feeling a killer orgasm coming on. One hand hiked her skirt and wandered up her thigh, pushing her panties to the side of one labia. She finger fucked herself for a few minutes before her middle and ring fingers found their familiar perch on Isabel’s clit. She fingered herself slowly and deliberately, barely noticing that the return to seat sign had gone on.

Someone knocked at the door as Isabel climaxed, her face flushed from the wine and the subsiding orgasm, she whispered, “Just a little second.”

“Take your time,” a man’s voice answered.

Needlessly flushing the toilet and running her hands through cold water, Isabel opened the door to find the man from 4C in front of her. He was handsome alright, Isabel thought, for an old guy. Probably 45, she guessed, or whatever age her parents were.

“I never did thank you for that drink. Thanks.”

He really was good-looking, Isabel thought. That flight attendant probably caught his eye more than once. They were about the same age, she guessed.

Isabel recognized the slightest hint of Dolce & Gabbana that lingered from 4C. Although she had lost her virginity at 17, it wasn’t until Luca that she started noticing the expanse of men, in general, as possible sexual partners. It was as if that with the first pain at the hand of her new husband, a whole new world of sensuality opened up to her.

4C smiled, “My pleasure.”

He could tell, Isabel thought. He must have known what she was up to which is why he so meticulously sized up her eyes and breasts as she inched by him. She looked back to see if he was watching her walk back to her seat. Just in case, she added a little swing to her hips, not too much, she thought, just enough to make it worth his while. He was. She flashed a sweet and seductive smile. She wasn’t sure why, but she did it anyway.

She wondered if he could smell the feminine juices puddling in her panties as she noticed his cologne. Not likely, she concluded, counting off the hours until Luca and her clandestine honeymoon.

 On his way back, 4C paused next to Isabel’s seat long enough to give her a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. Innocent enough, it sent an unexpected shiver of excitement through Isabel. 

As the plane landed, Isabel texted Luca advising him of her latest delay – this time not her fault. This excuse was verifiable: plane malfunction. Isabel had zoned out watching the luggage conveyer belt go around when a text came in, “You’re looking for a spanking!”

She wrote back, “Yes, I am. I want it now.”

4C walked up to Isabel, “Are you getting off here?”

Amused at the timely double entendre, Isabel replied, “Nope. On my way to Paris.”

“Me, too,” 4C said.

“Wanna catch a bite to eat? Looks like we’re here for a while,” he said.

“I was hoping to get into the city, considering that there’s plenty of time to kill,” Isabel said.

“I’ll take you. My car’s parked here,” 4C said.

“I thought you said you were going to Paris,” Isabel questioned.

“I am,” 4C said.

“So how is your car here when you got on the plane in LA,” Isabel asked.

“I live in Tiberon. I was in LA for the day,” he said.

“Got it,” Isabel said, “So, you’re a local.”

“Something like that. I moved up here about 10 years ago. Wanted to see what life on a houseboat was like and get out of the smog,” 4C said.

“So how is it?” Isabel asked.

“Cramped, but nice. So do you have a favorite restaurant up here,” he asked.

“Not really, I kind of just play it by ear,” she said.

“Trust me?” 4C asked.

“Enough to let you take me to dinner,” Isabel said. By now it was somewhere in the middle of the night in Paris and Luca was fast asleep and the night was young in San Francisco.

Isabel kept a brisk pace with 4C to his black Audi. “Very dad,” Isabel thought. She liked the new car smell and the fact that he opened the door for her and caught a good look at her legs as she crossed them.

Isabel watched 4C take off his jacket for the first time and routinely fold and place it on the back seat. Now that she got a better whiff, it was Dolce, mixed with that intoxicating man smell she first notice on Luca. She wondered if it was something that just European men had, because she had no recollection of that smell on the frat boys at college, or, if it was just her growing up.

Isabel sized up distinguished 4C and made an item-by-item mental comparison of Luca’s long lean back to the massive shoulders of this man, whose name she did not yet know. Her eyes wandered down the thick of his arms, across his muscular chest and flat stomach and momentarily landed on the bulge in his well-worn jeans. Inviting, Isabel thought. What had gotten into her anyway, she wondered. Good thing 4C couldn’t read her thoughts, Isabel concluded.

“I’m Jack, by the way,” 4C said.


“So what’s in Paris for you, Jack?”


“And you?”

“My ah, well, I guess you could say husband.”

“Lucky guy.”

“It’s not exactly like that.”

“Like what?”

“Well. Not Married. Married. He’s my boyfriend and he needed a Green Card so I’m heading to Europe to meet his family and stage a wedding. My parents don’t know and I don’t think they’ll let this one slide if they find out,” Isabel said.

“I see,” Jack said, “So, what do you feel like eating?”

“Fish” Isabel said.

“OK. That’s easy”

Jack took the quick scenic route to Ca’ del Bello, a tiny Italian restaurant where Chef Antonio made flavored grappa in the shed behind the outdoor dining patio and herb garden. By now, the dinner crowd had thinned out leaving the patio to Jack and Isabel.

“Salve, Jack. Good to see you and the signorina,” Antonio said.

“Signora,” Isabel corrected. Antonio shrugged.


“Two Aperol completi, Trust me, Isabel,” Jack ordered.

She liked his take control attitude. As they devoured Chef Antonio’s linguine di frutti di mare and the most succulent whitefish ever – Dorata – and more wine. By the final nightcaps of grappa, Chef Antonio hugged Jack goodbye and kissed the little signora on her hand feigning reverence. Gathering his stuff, he left the couple to enjoy the patio and  the view of the San Francisco Bay. They were alone and the restaurant was now officially closed. Jack knew his way out through the back gate. This was not his first rodeo at Ca del’Bello.

Between stories of shooting this or that in distant locations all over the world, Isabel learned that Jack was married with a couple of grown kids. She guessed that he was onto his second wife, probably a trophy one this time. Isabel guessed that she wouldn’t be much older than her. She wanted to know what kind of assignment he was heading to in Paris, but he didn’t seem to want to talk much about that. He learned that Isabel worked as a singing waitress with hopes of landing an internship at an ad agency in the fall and that her new husband was an aspiring artist – but none of this really mattered right here and now.

By the time the wine started doing its wonders, Jack brushed Isabel’s neck with the tips of his fingers and then across the top of her neckline. She watched his hand glide over the top of her blouse and felt her nipples hardening. ‘To watch or respond?’ she wondered as he reached under her blouse to expose one of her breasts as she had done herself just hours before.

Her hand feebly wandered toward his erect penis straining against his jeans and landed on his thigh. He put his hand on top of hers and moved it onto his bulge. Isabel let out an accidental gasp when she felt the enormity of his erection.

Jack licked Isabel’s firm breast then sucked and bit it. He pinched the other one lightly, then more firmly until Isabel moaned openly. He unbuttoned her blouse and left her bra to push up her exposed breasts.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

Isabel complied. The tone was pleasantly familiar. Firm. Direct. She had no choice but to obey.

Jack knelt to the ground deliberately breathing in and out through the thin cotton of her skirt. The warmth of his breath on her pussy, watching Jack breath in her youth and the smell of her earlier excretions sent waves of excitement through Isabel.

She waited for the next order as she enjoyed the feel of her vulva swelling as his big strong hand pushed aside her panties and firmly massaged her from the inside. Jack was intent on finding Isabel’s G-spot and when he did, all it took was a few strokes before Isabel came in his hand, pushing against him until her orgasm peaked and resolved.

He ordered her to bend over the table, spread her legs and pull her cheeks and vulva open so he could see. She obeyed. He took a handful of ice, rubbed it on her ass letting it melt against her warm skin and shoved a few cubes into her vagina. He then spanked her, first softly and then harder until she was sobbing. Without a moment to breath he then rammed his huge cock into her pussy which had tightened from the ice.

Jack slowed down, deliberately pushing himself deeper into her. First slowly, then faster, alternating the rhythm to surprise her with more spanking. He withdrew, continuing to stroke himself until he pulled the belt from his jeans. He rubbed Isabel’s thighs and buttocks with the belt before he drew it back and landed a nice welt across both cheeks. He landed the next few strokes to either side of the first mark, reveling in his precision, enjoying the visual.

“Fuck me,” she begged, to stop the pain.

“Do you want this?” Jack asked.

“Yes. Please. Yes.” Isabel pleaded.

“Kneel,” he said. Isabel listened.

Jack grabbed her hair, pulling it gently, then caressing it lightly. He rubbed his cock, then grabbed a big handful of hair in one fist and ordered Isabel to open her mouth. She did. He fucked her in the mouth until he was on the verge of cumming. Isabel could taste the salty precum and she readied herself for the explosion that was imminent in her mouth. She reached down to masturbate with one hand as Jack pumped into her and she squeezed the root of his dick in her free hand.

Jack wanted something else. He wanted to watch this little thing cum in front of his eyes. He pulled his penis out of her mouth and laid her on the ground on a table cloth. He tied her hands back with his belt and ordered her to lay still. He pulled off her skirt and unlatched her bra, exposing the fullness of her perky breasts and youthful musculature. For a moment he just watched her breathe in and out, willfully immobilized by his belt with her brown hair strewn on the grass and bricks of the patio.

Isabel watched Jack shed his jeans and t-shirt to expose his muscular stomach, shoulders, legs and caught a glimpse of strong, tight glutes. She wanted all of that, but, she liked this new game. She was his captive and his to do with what he pleased. She was dying to see what he would do next and felt her pussy itching for another orgasm. It didn’t matter that it was chilly outside or that anyone could wander back into the patio at any time. In fact, she wondered what Luca would think or do if he were watching this right now.

Jack rubbed his penis on Isabel’s breasts then licked and pinched until he felt her pussy swell again. He teased her clit with the tip of his penis and with his hands before he sucked her pussy, tickling her clit with the tip of his tongue and the length of her vulva. He first inserted one, then two, then three fingers in her vagina, rubbing her G-spot again before he entered her with his penis. Pulling it completely out and deliberately pushing it in as deeply as possible dozens of times, Isabel begged him to come as she neared her climax.

Isabel felt Jack constrict a second before she was filled with his thick hot cum. They both lay amid the cobblestones and moss of the Ca’ del Bello patio looking up at the San Francisco moon. Isabel shivered, the sex and alcohol high abated a little as Jack covered her with his jacket and gathered their clothes.

Jack plopped a Franklin onto the table and left with the rest of the grappa. Neither said a word as they navigated the narrow path out of the courtyard onto a back street that led to Jack’s car. Isabel walked barefoot, heels in hand, while Jack cleared the path and lit the way with his iPhone. She grabbed a swig of Grappa as she settled into the ride to who-knows-where. The digital display announced 12:05AM. Luca was already awake and the only reason he hadn’t yet texted or called was because in his mind’s eye she was somewhere in transit, but not to a houseboat in Tiburon.

“Where to?” Jack asked.

“Bed,” Isabel quipped with half a smile, wanting to sound older and more worldly than her years.

“Sounds good,” Jack smiled, turning onto a scenic road that led to docks and his houseboat. Isabel was thinking hot shower and her own bed at the comp’ed Marriott. But better than that was the chance to again get pummeled by the hottest older man on the planet. She reveled in the quaintness of picturesque surroundings as she wondered what he would do next.

His houseboat was the first in a line of many. A small walkway led to a large plank and outdoor deck from which one could enter through either the front or back door. It was bigger than Isabel expected with lots of open space and perfectly polished wood floors that led to a bedroom and office/studio. The art was big and modern and the furniture was large, Scandinavian and expensive. Between the office and bedroom was an atypically spacious wine cooler. ‘NorCal,’ Isabel thought. ‘They’re into their wine.’

“Make yourself at home,” Jack said.

“Hungry, thirsty? Can I get you anything?”

“I’m good but I could use a shower,” Isabel said.

“I can do better than that. Check this out,” Jack said revealing a pristine Jacuzzi.

“Looks yummy.”

Jack did a quick rinse of the tub, threw in a handful of bath salts and dimmed the lights.

“It’s all yours. Can I get you a glass of wine, water, anything?”

“Maybe some wine,” Isabel said.

Jack came back with a bottle of Gavi di Gavi. He poured one glass for Isabel, another for himself and watched as she sipped her wine and tested the percolating water with her toes. He left for a moment and came back with huge, fluffy bath towels and a turquoise silk kimono.

“This looks like it’s about your size,” Jack said as he hung it next to the tub.

Without ceremony, Isabel left her clothes in a pile and melted into the bath, immersing completely letting the jets pound her neck, hair, feet and limbs. She came up for a few sips of wine and then went back under to play mermaid while Jack checked his email long enough to give the girl some space. Make-up off and playing in his tub, Isabel took on an even more girlish appeal than when she was perfectly dressed and coiffed for her trans-Atlantic flight.

Little did she know that Jack was sneaking peeks of her bathing, particularly when she found that special jet. At first, Isabel had the bright idea that if she positioned her pussy where the super jet could flood her vagina, it would flush out Jack’s cum. She would be squeaky clean for her flight tomorrow, no one knowing of her little indiscretion. Then it dawned on her that she would have to revisit the Jacuzzi or simply take her chances because the night wasn’t over yet. As the jet took its effect on the right place, Jack was enjoying spying on his new-found Lolita evoking pleasure from a jet in his oversized tub. Bam. Jack was fully erect again.

Jack stepped into the tub, penis in the direction of Isabel’s mouth as he bent over to scrub her back. She took the unspoken invitation and wrapped both hands around Jack’s penis and deep throated him. He watched the scene in a mirror on the other side of the bathroom exciting him even more.

Isabel stepped closer to her favorite jet and positioned her clit over it offering her ass to Jack. He immediately licked the star-shaped opening until he could get a finger, then two into it. Once he was sure Isabel’s ass could accommodate the enormity of his cock, he pushed the tip into the perimeter. Easing his way into her ass, he glided his penis in and out of her with relative ease. Isabel moaned in pain for a few moments finding relief from the mounting jet-induced orgasm. Jack, even more turned on, entered her forcefully.

Within minutes, Jack had Isabel by her tiny waist as he thrust wildly inside her. He grabbed her entire mound in his palm as he pounded her over and over again until he came. Selfish? Maybe. But Isabel loved it. Exhausted, she worked toward the orgasm that Jack had momentarily distracted with his violent thrusting.

Now it was her turn. Jack licked her pussy until she moaned in ecstasy. The wave of pleasure washed through her. She was exhausted. It was time to take a break.


It was still too early for the fog to lift when Isabel jolted awake from a dream. “Oh my God,” she thought, “I’m going to miss my flight!” Fact was, she didn’t even know what time her flight was and whether or not she had already missed it.

Truth be told, right here and now she no longer cared. The fog obscured any notion of time other than it was clearly light out and must have been morning. After last night’s folly, it might well have been afternoon. Isabel found the borrowed silk robe on the floor next and her clothes neatly arranged on a chair on the other side of the room.

Jack did a good job ridding the house of telltale wine and grappa bottles by the time the house phone rang. She considered who he was talking to. ‘Was it her? The trophy wife? A mistress? A business call? So, who was this guy, anyway,’ she wondered.

It really didn’t matter, she concluded. It was carpe diem time.

“Coffee?” Jack asked.

“I could use some,” Isabel said.

“Starbucks or regular?”

“Starbucks. Shouldn’t we be at the airport already,” she asked feigning responsibility.

“Technically, yes.”

“Do you have any idea when our flight leaves?” Isabel asked.

“In a few hours, unless you want to take a later flight,” he said.

“Are we leaving now?” Isabel asked.

“That all depends on if you’re a good girl or not,” Jack teased.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I’ll get you on that flight, but you need to do something for me,” he said.

“What’s that?” Isabel asked.

“I’ll show you.”

Jack grabbed Isabel firmly by the wrist and led her to his office. He took the wrist that he was holding and handcuffed it to the top of his chin-up bar and then the other. Naked, Isabel shivered as fog turned to drizzle and drizzle to rain. Clouds had become darkly ominous and Isabel wasn’t sure she liked this new game, that is until Jack pulled out a small cat-o-nine tails whip with which he traced the contours of her body.

Isabel’s nipples were hard as rocks. Her skin crawled with goose bumps. She shivered. He knew that the whip would hurt more on a cold body. The thought of this hastened his erection, which, by now was visible, jeans notwithstanding. He looked a little older today, Isabel thought. Jack was her first older man, at least older than her 27-year old husband.

His first whip strokes were mild. They didn’t even leave a mark. He walked around her body randomly swatting her buttocks with the whip, then her thighs, her back, her breasts. The strokes got stronger and his hard erection got even harder. Isabel couldn’t help but become aroused as he varied lashes with caresses. After that were hand spanks, all the while taking breaks to pinch, bite and pull her hair and tits.

There it was, the swelling. Jack could smell it before he reached down to feel the warmth of her engorged vulva. This little kitten was a live-wire. He would have stopped at a few lash strokes and jacked off on her lovely young body, but, this was going to have to last him a while. He gagged her, part for visual effect, part to keep her yelps somewhat muffled, as he took the whip to her buttocks, hard.

Isabel could not speak. She sobbed softly, but, it was evident that the pleasure outweighed her pain. Her nipples stayed at full attention and when Jack crammed his fingers up her pussy, it was sopping wet.  By now, he knew the path to her soft spot and massaged it ferociously. Her body shook.

Jack dropped his pants.

“Grab onto the bar,” he ordered.

Isabel complied.

“Don’t let go or I’ll really let you have it,” he warned.

She nodded.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded and she complied.

Jack grabbed on to Isabel’s thighs and buttocks pulling her onto his cock again and again forcing his orgasm. His cum ran down her legs when he let them go.

“Now lick this up,” he commanded.

Isabel, feeling used, licked his cock and balls of the residue cum. She wanted to leave, or rather, she had to leave. She had a honeymoon waiting and long, beautiful Luca to get to know better. But something inside of her didn’t want to go. She wanted to feel the full wrath of 4C’s sexual fury and see where it would take her. Her secret desire was that their Paris flight would be delayed.

“Get dressed,” he ordered when she was done, “We’re leaving.”

Isabel showered and checked her body for marks of which there were many. Everything hurt. Her wrists hurt and were red from where the handcuffs had been. Her ass throbbed from last night’s butt fuck and she smelled like sex and more sex despite emptying half a bottle of lavender body wash. She scrubbed last night’s cum out of her hair and brushed and brushed her teeth to get rid of the old alcohol smell. Good thing the flight was 12 hours.

‘Hopefully it would run late or take longer to get there,’ she thought.

She needed the time to digest all of this. What would she do when Luca met her at the airport and Jack was around? How could she see him again, that is, if he wanted to see her? Not that she and Luca were totally exclusive, yet, but still there was the start of a relationship, or was there? There was way too much for her to digest hung-over, especially while throbbing from the best sex of her life.

Isabel got back into yesterday’s clothes. Jack kept his promise of Starbucks.

“Let me guess, Skinny Vanilla Latte?”

Isabel nodded. She would have nodded to anything he said right about then, but this was her coffee poison of choice.

Jack drove Isabel to the departure curb.

“This is where you get off,” he said.

‘Now isn’t that the truth,’ Isabel thought, imagining that 4C would also initiate her into the Mile High Club and who knows what else.

“But what about you, aren’t you going? Don’t you have an assignment in Paris?” she asked.

“Yeah. That’s next month,” Jack said. “Don’t forget your bag.” He pulled it out of his trunk, extended the carry bar for her and hoisted it to the curb without much ceremony.

“See you ’round, kiddo. Have a good . . . honeymoon,” Jack said, before he drove off.

Isabel’s heart sunk as he drove away and she didn’t know why. Thinking about it made her boarding fly by. Buckled into her seat, the same flight attendant nodded to Isabel.