Chapter 9: Curating the audience
Linda watched Kai turn away, already scanning the pool deck with that predatory artist’s gaze, sketchbook tucked under their arm. Anya remained on her lounger, radiating a quiet, focused energy – the kind Linda recognized as pre-performance nerves mixed with fierce determination. The dancer was psyching herself up. Good. Linda grabbed her oil bottle, squeezed a generous dollop onto her palm, and slicked it over her belly and thighs, the scent of coconut mingling with the chlorine and sweat. Time to recruit.
She untied the damp sarong she’d used as a makeshift towel, letting it drop, and padded barefoot towards the cabanas. The couple – the "Duracell bunnies" – were still there. Closer now, Linda could see the sheen of sweat on their skin, the intense focus in their eyes as their hands moved beneath the thin towels draped over their laps. The man had dark, close-cropped hair and broad shoulders. The woman was lithe, with sharp cheekbones and dark hair plastered to her temples. They weren’t talking, just breathing hard, lost in their shared, separate rhythms.
Linda stopped beside their double lounger, planting her hands on her hips. "Enjoying the show?" she asked, her voice bright and unapologetic.
The man’s hand stilled beneath his towel. He blinked, refocusing on Linda, a flicker of surprise quickly replaced by a slow, appreciative smile. The woman lowered her gaze for a second, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, before meeting Linda’s eyes with equal parts wariness and curiosity. Her hand kept moving under her towel, a slow, insistent rub.
"Always a spectacle," the man replied, his voice a low rumble. His eyes swept over Linda’s oiled body without shame. "Name’s Leo. This is Maya."
"Maya," Linda repeated, offering a smile. "Leo." She tilted her head towards the pool. "Saw you two going at it like it was going out of style yesterday. And today. Impressive stamina." She let her gaze drift pointedly down to the towels. "Though, gotta say, the imagination only gets you so far out here, right?"
Maya’s blush deepened, but her chin lifted slightly. Leo chuckled, a rich, easy sound. "Rules are rules. Keeps things… interesting. Lets the anticipation build." His hand resumed its movement beneath the towel, a deliberate stroke. Maya mirrored him, her breath catching.
"Anticipation’s the best part," Linda agreed, leaning in conspiratorially. She savored the scent of their arousal, sharp and musky under the coconut oil and chlorine. "Which is why I’ve got a proposition. For tonight."
Both pairs of eyes fixed on her. Maya’s rhythmic rubbing slowed. Leo’s eyebrow quirked.
"See our friend Anya? The redhead?" Linda gestured back towards the loungers where Anya sat, now watching Kai circle the pool edge like a shark. "And Kai, the artist with the purple hair?"
"Hard to miss," Leo said. "Especially after breakfast. That was… memorable." His gaze drifted back towards Anya, lingering.
Linda grinned. "Oh, breakfast was just the appetizer. Tonight’s the main course. Kai’s studio. Sunset. And Anya wants an audience. A close one. Like… sitting-on-the-floor-beside-the-bed close."
Maya’s hand stopped moving entirely. Her eyes widened, the wariness replaced by pure, startled fascination. "An audience? For…?"
"For Kai fucking her," Linda stated bluntly, enjoying the jolt that went through both of them. "Hard. Deep. Taking what they want. And Anya… she wants to be seen. Really seen. She wants you to feel the heat. Smell it." Linda leaned even closer, lowering her voice to a husky whisper. "She specifically mentioned wanting people right there when Kai takes her in every hole. Front row seats to the whole damn symphony."
Leo’s lips parted. He stared at Linda, then flicked a glance at Maya. His hand under the towel was motionless now. Maya swallowed hard. "Every hole?" she echoed, her voice barely audible over the pool’s gentle lapping and the distant moan from Simone’s direction.
"Yep," Linda confirmed, popping the 'p'. "Ass included. Kai’s… generously equipped for the task, as you might imagine. And Anya? That ballerina flexibility? Lets her open up in ways that’ll make your jaw drop." She saw the flare of heat in Leo’s eyes, the way Maya’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. The air crackled. "So? You two look like appreciators of a finely curated performance. Interested in being part of the gallery?"
Leo let out a slow, shaky breath. He looked at Maya again. A silent conversation passed between them – a question, an answer, pure, electric agreement. Maya nodded, almost imperceptibly. Leo turned back to Linda, a wide, hungry grin spreading across his face. "Front row seats to Kai Tanaka fucking Anya Petrova’s ass?" He chuckled, low and dark. "Honey, we wouldn’t miss that show if the resort was on fire. Count us absolutely fucking in."
Linda clapped her hands together once, the sound sharp in the humid air. "Perfect! Kai’s finalizing the guest list. We’ll find you before sunset, give you the apartment number." She winked. "Wear something easy to breathe in. It’s gonna get hot." She turned to go, her own pulse thrumming with the thrill of the successful recruitment.
Just before she moved away, Maya spoke up, her voice firmer now, laced with a sudden, intense curiosity. "Linda?"
Linda paused, looking back.
Maya’s gaze was locked on her, intense and unblinking. "Is Anya… ready for that? For… someone like Kai? In there?" There was no judgment in the question, just a stark, almost clinical fascination mixed with a flicker of something like concern or raw anticipation.
Linda met her gaze squarely. She thought of Anya’s fierce vulnerability, the way she’d demanded the audience, the fire in her eyes after her climax by the pool. "Honey," Linda said, a slow smile spreading across her face, "that dancer is built for extremes. And tonight? She’s not just ready. She’s hungry for it." She left them with that, their eyes wide, their hands undoubtedly resuming their eager, anticipatory movements under the towels as she strode purposefully towards the statuesque woman sipping water near the pool bar, her next recruit already in sight. The energy of the coming night pulsed around her, thick and sweet as honey.
The energy of the coming night pulsed around her, thick and sweet as honey. Her gaze swept across the shimmering water, past Leo and Maya already lost again in their private rhythm under the towels, towards the cluster of loungers near the deep end. Three men sat side-by-side, shirts discarded, skin slick with sunscreen and sweat. Their hands moved steadily in their laps, not hidden by towels, just openly working their hard cocks in the afternoon sun. They seemed locked in a companionable, silent communion, their breathing synced, eyes half-closed against the glare off the water. Linda adjusted the strap of her bag and walked over, her bare feet silent on the warm concrete.
"Afternoon, gentlemen," Linda announced, stopping a few feet away, her shadow falling across the closest man's legs. "Making the most of the sunshine?"
The man on the left, thickly built with a buzz cut and a tattoo sleeve, paused his stroking. He blinked up at her, a slow smile spreading across his face, unbothered by her presence or the state of his arousal. "Always do," he rumbled, his voice surprisingly deep. His companions glanced over, their hands slowing but not stopping. "Just appreciating the view. And the company. Name’s Dave." He nodded to his right. "Ben. And that's Marcus."
"Linda." She gave a small wave. "Seems like you boys have found a good spot." She let her eyes drift down, taking in the sight openly – the thick lengths in their fists, the taut skin, the focused intensity. "Enjoying the shared interest?"
Ben, wiry with sun-bleached hair, chuckled. "Something like that. We all swing that way. Bi, yeah? Makes pool time more interesting." He squeezed his shaft, emphasizing the point. Marcus, quiet and lean, just nodded, his dark eyes assessing Linda with frank curiosity.
"Good to know," Linda said, leaning a hip out. "Speaking of interesting… big event happening tonight. Kai Tanaka’s studio." She saw their eyes light up instantly at Kai’s name, recognition flashing. "Sunset. Private showing. Very… participatory audience required."
Dave’s hand stilled completely. "Kai Tanaka? The artist? With the purple hair? The one who…?" He trailed off, clearly recalling breakfast, the sheer confidence Kai radiated.
"The very one," Linda confirmed, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "And they’ll be putting on quite the performance with Anya Petrova. The redhead ballerina. You saw her earlier, by the pool? Front row seats. Close enough to feel the heat. Kai’s planning something… intense." She let the implication hang, heavy with promise.
Marcus finally spoke, his voice quiet but intense. "Taking her? All the way?"
"Every way," Linda stated. "Anya’s keen for an audience. Wants it loud, wants it seen. Kai’s more than capable. Trust me." She saw the hunger ignite in their expressions, the silent communication passing between them. Dave’s knuckles whitened slightly on his cock. Ben licked his lips.
"Fuck yeah," Dave breathed. "Count us in. We wouldn’t miss that."
"Good answer," Linda smiled. "I’ll find you later with the apartment number. Dress light."
She started to turn away, her mission accomplished, but Ben’s voice stopped her. "Hey, Linda?"
She looked back. All three pairs of eyes were fixed on her, intense, expectant. Ben gestured vaguely towards her bag. "While we’re all… appreciating things… maybe you could give us a little preview? Something to tide us over until tonight?" The request hung in the humid air, thick with pooled water scent and male musk.
Linda paused. She met their gazes, one after the other – Dave’s eager hunger, Ben’s playful challenge, Marcus’s quiet intensity. A slow smile spread across her face. "Why the hell not?" She fished her cigarettes and lighter from her bag first. Placed a cigarette between her lips. The sharp scratch of the lighter, the flare of flame, the first deep drag of smoke filled her lungs, a familiar anchor.
Then, without a word, she turned her back on them. Bent smoothly at the waist, presenting her oiled ass, the curve of her spine stark in the sunlight. Her free hand reached into the bag, pulling out the smooth, dark silicone dildo she’d used earlier. She spat casually into her palm, slicked the length quickly, the wet sound loud in their sudden silence behind her. She didn’t look back. Guided the blunt tip firmly against her asshole. Pushed.
A small grunt escaped her as the head breached her tight ring, the familiar stretch immediate, a delicious burn. She pushed deeper, sinking onto it steadily, feeling the thick intrusion fill her. Behind her, she heard three sharp intakes of breath, the rustle of fabric as they leaned forward, the slick, rhythmic sound of their hands on their cocks resuming with renewed urgency, faster now. She took another long drag off her cigarette, the smoke curling around her as she fucked herself slowly on the dildo, pushing it almost all the way out before driving it back in deep, the base slapping softly against her skin. She could practically feel the heat of their stares on her ass, on the dildo plunging in and out. It was a simple transaction, a shared moment of raw, uncomplicated need under the blinding sun. She kept the rhythm steady, deliberate, letting them watch, letting the dildo stretch her open, her cigarette smoke drifting lazily towards the sky.
After a minute, maybe two, she straightened up slightly, the dildo still seated deep inside her. She took a final drag, then flicked the cigarette butt towards the nearest ashtray. "Enjoy the show, boys," she called over her shoulder, her voice rough with smoke and exertion. "See you tonight." She didn’t pull the dildo out. Just turned and walked away, the hard silicone shifting inside her with each step, back towards Anya and the simmering anticipation of the coming darkness. The men watched her go, their hands moving furiously now, breaths coming in ragged gasps, utterly captured.
The men watched her go, their hands moving furiously now, breaths coming in ragged gasps, utterly captured. Linda felt the thick silicone plug shifting inside her with each step, a persistent, grounding pressure as she crossed the pool deck. Her bare feet slapped lightly on the wet concrete near the bar area, the scent of chlorine intensifying mixed with the sharp tang of spilled cocktails and sunscreen. She spotted Simone standing alone near the bar’s edge, a tall, striking figure with close-cropped dark hair and sharp cheekbones, effortlessly elegant in a simple black bathing suit. Simone watched Linda’s approach with detached amusement, swirling the water in her glass, her dark eyes missing nothing – the faint sheen of oil, the determined stride, the hint of the plug's base visible beneath the sway of her sarong.
"Quite the recruitment drive, Linda," Simone observed, her voice a low, smooth alto, as Linda stopped beside her. Her gaze flickered down, then back up, a knowing half-smile playing on her lips. "Leaving quite the impression, I see. Or should I say... feeling?"
Linda grinned, unfazed, leaning her hip against the bar counter. She adjusted the strap of her bag, feeling the plug shift again. "Gotta make the pitch memorable, Simone. You know how it is." She nodded towards the trio Linda had just left, now clearly engrossed in finishing what she'd started. "Enthusiastic lads."
"Very," Simone agreed dryly, taking a slow sip of her water. Her eyes tracked a bead of condensation running down the glass. "And now you've come for me? Should I be flattered or wary?" Her expression remained coolly composed, but Linda saw the spark of interest, the subtle alertness in her posture.
"Flattered, definitely," Linda said, her tone turning conspiratorial. She lowered her voice slightly, leaning in. "Big event tonight. Kai’s studio. Sunset. Anya’s main event." Simone’s eyebrow arched almost imperceptibly. "Not just watching. Anya wants an audience. Close. Intimate. Front row to Kai taking her apart." Linda paused, letting the image sink in. "Every way imaginable. Particularly... thoroughly. You saw Kai. Saw Anya. You know the potential."
Simone didn't react immediately. She set her glass down on the bar with deliberate care. Her gaze drifted past Linda, towards the shimmering pool, seeming to contemplate the proposition. The low moan of someone lost in pleasure drifted from a nearby lounger. "An audience," Simone repeated slowly, turning the word over. "For that." Her dark eyes met Linda’s again, sharp and assessing. "Anya Petrova wants strangers witnessing her being... claimed like that? By someone like Kai?" There was no judgment, only a profound curiosity, perhaps a flicker of something darker, hungrier, beneath the surface.
"Not strangers," Linda corrected smoothly. "Appreciators. People who get it. Who understand the... artistry. The hunger." She held Simone’s gaze. "She wants to be seen, Simone. Really seen. In that moment of absolute surrender. The fire, the stretch, the raw fucking need of it." Linda’s voice dropped to a near-whisper. "She wants you to feel the heat radiating off her skin. Smell it. See the exact moment Kai breaks her open." She saw Simone’s throat move as she swallowed, the only outward sign of the impact. "Kai’s ready. Anya’s demanding it. It’s going to be... visceral. Unforgettable."
Simone was silent for a long moment, the only sound the gentle splash of water and distant sighs. Her fingers traced the rim of her glass. Linda waited, sensing the calculation, the sharp intellect weighing the spectacle, the raw energy promised. Finally, Simone looked up, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face, transforming her elegance into something far more dangerous. "Visceral," she echoed, the word tasting sharp on her tongue. She picked up her glass, drained the last of the water. Her eyes locked onto Linda’s, bright with anticipation. "Tell me the time and place. Front row."
Simone’s predatory smile lingered, sharp and hungry. "Front row." The words hung between them, charged and final. Linda grinned back, the plug shifting inside her as she shifted her weight. "Kai’ll find you with the details before sunset. Don’t be late." She turned to leave, the promise of the night crackling like static.
"Linda?" Simone’s voice stopped her, smooth as poured oil. Linda glanced back. Simone’s dark eyes held hers, that cool composure momentarily fractured by something raw. "This place… it really does strip everything else away, doesn’t it? Leaves just… this." She gestured vaguely, encompassing the pool, the sighs, the scent of sex and chlorine.
"WELL, THIS GOT ME HORNY. LUCKILY IM IN THE RIGHT PLACE," Simone declared, her voice suddenly lower, rougher. With practiced ease, she pulled a cigarette from a small case tucked beside her water glass, lit it with a silver lighter, and took a long, deliberate drag. Smoke curled from her lips as she deliberately spread her legs wider on the bar stool, the black fabric of her bathing suit stretching taut. Her free hand slid unceremoniously beneath the suit’s bottom edge, fingers disappearing. A soft sigh escaped her, mingling with the exhaled smoke. "Fuck, I love masturbating," she murmured, her gaze fixed on Linda now, intense and unblinking. Her fingers began a slow, deliberate rhythm beneath the fabric. "Especially here. No pretending. No hiding. Just… feeling it build. Watching others feel it build." She took another drag, her eyes never leaving Linda’s face. "The freedom of it. Pure sensation. Nothing else matters in this sun, does it?" Her hips rocked subtly against her own hand.
Linda watched, rooted for a moment. Simone’s elegant facade was utterly dissolved, replaced by a fierce, focused need. The rhythmic movement under the black fabric was hypnotic. Simone’s breath hitched, her cigarette held forgotten for a second between her fingers. "See?" she breathed, a bead of sweat tracing her temple despite the shade. "Just… letting go. Right here. Because I can." Her gaze drifted past Linda, taking in the pool deck panorama – Leo and Maya moving under towels, the trio of men finishing with rough gasps, Anya’s quiet intensity on her lounger, Kai sketching near the water’s edge. "Everyone lost in their own perfect little world," Simone murmured, her voice thick. Her fingers worked faster, the tendons in her forearm flexing. "It’s… beautiful." A low groan vibrated in her throat, her head tipping back slightly, eyes fluttering shut for a heartbeat before snapping open, locking onto Linda again. "Don’t you think?"
Linda felt the plug inside her pulse in response to Simone’s raw display. The humid air felt thicker, charged. She offered Simone a slow, knowing nod, a mirror of the artist’s earlier predatory smile. "Beautiful," Linda agreed softly, her own voice husky. She watched Simone’s fingers move, watched the tension coil in her body, watched the cigarette ash grow long and precarious. The promise of the night wasn't just ahead; it was simmering right here, right now, in Simone’s fierce, unapologetic release under the afternoon sun. Linda didn't move. She just watched, letting the sight fuel her own anticipation, the plug a persistent reminder of the gathering storm still hours away. The sun dipped lower, casting longer shadows, painting Simone’s sweat-slicked skin gold.