I want you, Georges.
George
Do you know who the Red Beast is? The Red Beast is a woman with red hair? And that's it? You think that's all? Oh no! The Red Beast is a woman with refined taste, exquisite perfume, perfect manicure, fresh makeup, fiery hair, captivating green eyes... On top of that, she drives a Mitsubishi Eclipse Ralliart, drinks only Frigalin, and prefers sushi, lobster, and pineapple with cream for dessert. She always smells of Lacoste classic. But the most important thing is her character. Her ability to dominate, to enchant with just a glance, to turn you into a slave with a single word. Her ability
to make even her whims charming! That's a real Beast! You've probably already guessed that I'm talking about someone specific. Yes, you're right. It's a special girl, my girl – Marie Brown. I love her. I think I love her...Marie works for the well-known magazine Vanity Fair. She is the assistant to the publishing director, André Delille. Actually, the surname De*ville would suit this guy better. I can't stand that snob. He's always hanging around my girl. He's always trying to seduce her. Yeah, dream on, you jerk! He's always dressed like a dandy, but he copies my style. He thinks if he resembles me even a little, Marie will notice him and forget about me. But he's far from me! Just thinking about him makes me sick. Marie and I have had arguments more than once because of this piece of sh*t. If only she would give in to me and change jobs, but no! She, you see, likes working there. She's so impossible! Too willful, it seems she enjoys making me angry! Beast, have you forgotten? But I love her so much..
Today we're not recording in the studio with the guys, so I'm just relaxing and thinking about my baby, as always. After ordering Marie's favorite sushi and buying her favorite wine, I decided to pick her up a little earlier than usual. So I get into my favorite beauty, after Marie, of course – the BMW M7, start the engine; the car smoothly pulls out onto the highway, and at that moment my cell phone rings. It's Tom, my best friend and bandmate. A cool dude. He's proven more than once that he's a true friend. Always supportive and helpful.
– Yes, Tom, hello!
– Geooorge! – Tom's languid voice comes from the other end.
– Shut up, only Marie calls me that! – I say, laughing.
– So I'm not good enough for you, huh? – we laugh together in unison.
– You might as well pout, – I chuckle.
– What are you up to?
– Picking up Marie.
– So, beer with the guys is canceled today, I take it?
– Today, yes.
– I've picked out some cool chords for a new song, if you're free tomorrow – come over, we'll rehearse.
– Okay, no problem. Just don't expect me early, you know I sleep in for a long time...
– ... after a wild night, of course, – Tom finished, and we laughed again.
– How perceptive you are!
– Then see you tomorrow!
– See you tomorrow, Tom!
Marie
Mmm... how sweet the memories of last night are. She was incomparable, though, like all the previous ones. My George is simply adorable. I love him madly.
He's so good to me, kind, handsome, passionate, fiery... His name is George, but I call him Georges. I especially love drawing out the "o" in his name. I think his name sounds very sexy in French. He adores it when I call him that. George thinks French is my favorite language, though that's far from true. I just love shouting "Je te veux, George" during sex. And my favorite language is Russian. Which is no surprise: I am Russian, after all. But I also love German. And that's also no surprise: my favorite man is German.
While I was reminiscing about my beloved, my thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. It's probably André. When I started working here, we immediately hit it off. He's an interesting young man. There's always something to talk about with him. He knows how to present himself, yet he's always polite and courteous. He's a professional in his field, with many connections. Though, you can't get by without that in business... In short, he's a socialite. George can't stand him. According to him, André is constantly following me around. He thinks Delille has feelings for me, which often causes arguments between us. I understand George, though I believe he has no reason to be jealous. At least, I've never given him such a reason and generally don't allow myself any liberties. Nevertheless, we often argue because of André. George is very jealous, after all, and any man near me irritates him. With just a look, he shows anyone who looks at me with interest that I belong only to him.
– Marie, take a look at the cover of the new magazine issue. What do you think? – André asked, entering my office. He approached my desk, on which I was sitting, legs crossed.
The city was gradually sinking into the thick blackness of night, which grew denser by the minute and seemed to swallow me... Outside the speeding car window, streetlights, shop windows, and high-rises flashed by... I look at George: he's driving confidently; his gaze doesn't leave the road, though I know he's looking at me with his peripheral vision. He's angry, he's raging. I can even feel that everything is churning inside him – a fireworks display ahead. I look out the window again and close my eyes, remembering what happened...
I meet the demanding gaze of his gray-green eyes, and it's like an electric shock. He forces out something resembling a smile, though it's more like a smirk, and saunters into the office, hands in his pockets.
– Am I interrupting you? – he asks with a hint of mockery.
– Marie and I were just...
– ... discussing the cover of the new issue, – I interrupted André, who was clearly trying to add fuel to the fire.
– Unfortunately, you're not on the cover, – André smiled nastily.
– Yes, unfortunately I can't find the time for Vanity Fair just yet, – George retorts.
– We would be very happy to photograph you, if you have the time. – André continues, venomously emphasizing the word 'very'.
– I'll check my schedule, if there's time, then perhaps I won't refuse – George doesn't back down, – Are you heading home or do you need more time to discuss the new cover? – he continues, addressing me with a demanding question.
I felt hurt by this question and his tone: there was reproach and accusation in it, as if I had committed a terrible crime. I haven't done anything wrong. But how can I prove that to him now?
– I like the cover, it has a subtle aesthetic. Bye, André, have a good evening! – I said, turning to my boss, then took my purse and headed for the door, while my jealous lover demonstratively turned his back on me and strode towards the door.
– Bye, Marie! – I heard André's voice as I was already closing the door behind me.
Needless to say, George didn't even open the car door for me? He wasn't even planning to wait for me. Clearly, he's not in the mood to be a gentleman today.
As we drove, the smell of tobacco was suffocating me, as if mixed with the smell of his jealousy. George is smoking. Turning my head towards him again, I couldn't help but admire him. No one smokes like he does. I'm against this bad habit, but I can't deny myself the pleasure of watching him as he so sexily inhales the smoke.
When we arrived home and I stepped outside, I shivered from the cool wind. It seems a storm is coming: heavy clouds mixed with the hot sun, creating a pink glow in the sky...
Ahead of me walked a real Emperor. No, not Napoleon, but George Wulfert, proudly striding towards the doors leading to his mansion. I walk behind him, guiltily lowering my head. He throws the keys on the table in the living room, his jacket – on the sofa. Of course, you can already guess that our subsequent conversation was very stormy.
– Don't throw the keys on the table, – I say quite calmly.
– What?? – he asks rudely.
– I don't like it when keys are thrown on the table.
– Come here, take them, and put them where you think they should go.
– Don't talk to me in that tone!
– I'll talk however I want. Be thankful I'm even talking to you at all.
His rudeness makes me cringe.
– You could be more polite, – I'm slowly starting to boil.
– Should I learn politeness from your De*ville? – he's clearly at his limit.
– You could learn from him. He's well-mannered.
– So well-mannered that he uses his paws!!! – George yells.
– Not paws, hands. And he doesn't paw me!!.
– Of course, his claw just accidentally slipped from the magazine to your waist!!!
– I didn't like it either. I didn't even have time to react, and then you came in. You misunderstood everything. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill.
– I should have turned him into a cutlet! He's always trying to hug you! Don't you see that??!!!!!
– Nothing of the sort!!! You're exaggerating! I don't allow...
– And why are you defending him so much??!! – he doesn't let me finish.
– Because you're wrong, – I say quietly and turn away.
– You're covering for him!! André this, André that! I'm f*cking sick of your André! – George doesn't let up.
– Don't yell at me!! – I raise my voice.
– Usually, you only defend someone like that if they matter to you, – he remarks in a cold tone.
– Don't talk nonsense.
– Admit it, you're f*cking him, – a nasty half-smile.
– What?.. – I freeze in shock.
– And you don't want to change jobs... You're spreading your legs for that bastard, you b*tch! – a slap and his cheek is burning. I won't let anyone talk to me like that!!! The slap made his hair cover part of his face. He slowly turned his head towards me and looked from under his brows. That look scared me. He suddenly pinned me against the wall, gripping my neck with his hand. For a minute we stared intently into each other's eyes, then he loosened his grip and let me go. Then he walked towards the pool, undressing as he went.
George
B*tch! How she defends him! What a b*tch! No, she's a Beast! How she got to me! I urgently need to cool down, or I'll kill that b*tch who's so skillfully f*cking with my head! Yeeesss!! She's a master at this! They told me, don't expect peace with a beast! But no, love! F*ck!!
Approaching the pool completely naked, I, without thinking twice, dive in. Our pool is magnificent. There are blue lights all around, making the water simply azure.
While I was relaxing by the edge, at the other end Marie slowly descends the steps... naked Marie... This b*tch won't even let me swim in peace. She's swimming over here.
– What, not enough room in the pool? – I ask irritably. She answers with a cheeky smile: not enoughhh...
She swims very close, stands opposite me. Smiles again, biting her lip; then, taking a deep breath, she submerges underwater and... Oh, this is incredible! I feel it sinking into warm moisture... An unreal contrast of cool water and the warmth of her lips...
Needless to say, as soon as Marie was a few centimeters away from me, I was simply stunned, and when her lips touched the head underwater, I completely lost control of myself. All my brain centers were concentrated in the groin area. And how does she do it? The b*tch knows how to turn me on even more. If she thinks I've forgotten, then... Mmm... she... sss... so good... then she... Aah... unreal... then she... is... mis – ta – ken...
Marie always gave incredible pleasure. She knows all the subtleties, everything I like, knows how I want it... And now, she was doing such things that it seemed the water would steam from such heat. She first slowly took it in, then released it, helping with her hands... When the moment came and I was ready to come, she surfaced and looked at me slyly in the eyes, slowly saying:
– You'll do the rest yourself, – I feel myself starting to get angry again, and so strongly that I'm ready to tear her apart...
I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her tightly to me so that she arches back slightly, and she pushes her hands against my chest. Pushing is useless, baby. I slide my hands down, grab her firm buttocks and lift her, seating her on the cold pool tiles. I, like a master, spread her legs... She smiles, biting her lip, and lies back on the cold tile. I pull her by her slender legs, throwing them over my shoulders, slowly descending with kisses along the inside of her thighs. Marie's velvety skin gets goosebumps as I reach the epicenter of desire. Gently capture the delicate "petals" with my lips, then slowly run my tongue inside her womb...
Leaning on her elbows, Marie watches my actions enchantedly. After tracing the outline of her labia, I kiss "her" in French, letting my tongue into the warm moisture, then my tongue begins to do unreal things, as if I were moving inside Marie, making my girl start moaning loudly. How her moans excite me!!!!… I trace patterns on her clitoris with my tongue, then suck on it, making my baby start to tremble. My hands wander over Marie's legs, stroke her calves, squeeze them slightly, then return to her thighs, moving to the inner part. I feel Marie trembling on the verge of orgasm. I pull away briefly, sweetly kissing her clitoris.
– So what's going on with that jerk? – I move my tongue around her vagina.
– W – with whoooom? – Marie moans.
– With that rooster who so eagerly spreads his hands on other guys' girls, – I lightly bite her inner lip and immediately lick it.
She exhales with a moan:
– N – no – o – othing – ooo…
– At all? – I raise a sly gaze to Marie, meeting the hazy mist in her eyes, darkened with arousal, while my tongue still wanders over the moist "expanses" that so tempt me.
– A – a – at all… – she exhales.
Marie
Bastard! He's tormenting me! But how sweetly he torments... A couple more moments and I'm overcome by an orgasm, as if rocked on waves of insane pleasure... And George already grabs me by the waist with his strong hands