Chapter 12

My shower took twenty, infuriating, minutes. I'm leaving the bathroom, still angry, a towel rapt around my manhood. 

Diana's standing on a chair replacing a smoke detector, I catch her smiling to herself, as she sees me. Was she singing? Her gown is tied around the waist in the practical, matter of fact, way.

"Now qué pasa? What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm putting things back so that Geraldo won't realise he's been discovered," she says, slightly breathlessly, skipping down off the chair.

"Now that you've finished playing with yourself, would you mind putting this one back in the clock while I get the last smoke detector?"

"I was not playing with myself, bitch!" I find myself shouting. She's really got to me.

The puta certainly travels with a lot of equipment. She has a cute little zip-up memory card holder.  She's taking out similar cards from the holder and replacing them with those from the cameras so they'll be blank when Geraldo gets here to harvest his crop. By now the hidden cameras in the room must have recorded a great deal of good quality video. The xD card from the stolen Olympus camera, my lifesaver, is already stowed away safely in her hold-all.

"Do you always carry a bunch of spare cards around with you?" I growl, still furious at her continued lleno de desprecio, sneering. But I do I'm asked asked, before replacing the back of the clock and putting it back in its place.

"Yes, I do, doesn't everyone with a camera?" she says, still sounding scornful, as if she silently added 'you moron' or 'you excuse for a man'. Now she seems to be demeaning my lack of resourcefulness or knowledge as well as my manhood.

"Well, no!" I reply incredulously, wondering why the clock needs a new card too.

"I was supposed to take that one with me. Why did I just replace it," I ask suspiciously. "If I'm going to follow the original plan, it's not supposed to be here when Geraldo returns."

"How stupid are you?" she responds rudely. "If you follow his plan, he's going to kill you. But when he finds all these, with nothing more incriminating than me roaming about, he'll think you failed completely. So, I've set their clocks back a day. Once he's taken the cards out, he'll never see the deception."

"What are you going to do with the recorded ones?" I ask, marvelling at her expertise and trying not to seem even more stupid.

"You'll see! They're going to be fun for us to watch together, later. That's why I put them back before your encore performance; and all those curtain-calls, last night," she says provocatively, showing me the tip of her tongue again and smiling suggestively. 

Maybe she doesn't think I'm such a dreadful lover after all, if she wants to look at our 'home movies' with me. Am I back in the good books? 

As if reading my mind, she's taken my hand and is leading me to the sofa. As I sit, to her command, my towel falls open and she pushes me back straddling my knees. I'm enveloped in her robe. Her naked breasts are pressed against me. She must have flicked the TV remote. She's moved her head to my shoulder, nibbling my ear, ensuring that I have a clear view of the screen.  

"Oh. No!"

She must have set up this dreadful, debasing scene when I was in the shower. 

"Look how hard you are," she whispers, breathing hotly in my ear. On screen she's kneeling over me as I pleasure her, yet again, in that disgusting way.

As she gives me her breathy commentary, reliving the experience in forensic detail, she wiggles about on my lap, as if enjoying it all over again. She hasn't showered and the odours of our night together rise inside the tent of her gown.

I watch appalled, yet I'm finding the smell of her incredibly arousing. The alarming scenes, of her dominating me and having her way like that, have somehow become hugely erotic. My shaft has grown hard and is upright against her writhing stomach. It's so mesmerising I'm actually trying to look around her when her soft lips seek mine and I feel her tongue pushing into my mouth. 

I can no longer stand it. I roll my knees to the side, tipping her onto the sofa to satisfy my lust.  

But she's gone! Somehow, she used my knees' sideway momentum to slip away and let me slide backwards off the sofa, dropping heavily to the floor. Now she's circling the room, wafting her open gown at me and laughing at my clumsiness. 

"Naughty boy! You told me you didn't like pleasing women like that! Well, this video has certainly proved you a liar. Look how turned on you got. You can't wait to do it for a woman again," she says delightedly. Her tongue going up and down, licking the air, in parody. "Like all wankers you love it!"

The puta is mocking me again.

Why do I let her do this? I'm as furious with myself as with her. All I want to do is punch her hard in her supercilious face.

She's bending over me whispering in my ear: "I'm sorry darling, it's just a game. Don't get too upset. I really do enjoy your new skills. I want to apologise," she sounds as if she is sorry. Maybe she sees how dangerous I might become? 

Her breasts are dangling against me and her breath is warm and sexy: "Lets go back to when you were going to fuck me. Look at the video again... See how excited you got... She's sucking my earlobe and her hand is checking me out.

"Look at how keen you are now you little pervert! Sorry. I told you I was just playing with you. Weren't you listening? Get up. I'm not in the mood at the moment."

"What! That's it!" I scream: "I'm going to have you whether you like it or not, you prick-teasing slut. Come here!"

She's skipped off, mock-yelling 'rape', 'rape' in alarm. That's it, I'm going to chase her down and rape her. She's asked for this.