The Ambassador

The actress I had been talking with for the last few minutes was beginning to get on my nerves. I looked around frantically, trying to locate the Count.

"...so he asked me if I'd tried Ecstasy and I told him I heard it was pretty addictive and then he said..." the actress just wouldn't let up. I resisted the urge to tell her to shut up.

I finally located the Count. He was standing with a group of diplomats looking almost as bored as I was. I caught his eye and made imploring faces. His mustache twitched with amusement as he excused himself.

"...the next day he didn't show up on the set and the director was mad. Turned out he..." The actress wasn't out of steam yet. She stopped when the Count got to us.

"A good evening to you Madame Zelda..." he bowed gallantly.

"Zeldman," she corrected sharply.

I slipped away unnoticed, glad to get away. I spent a while wandering before I saw her.

She was wearing a red dress cut low behind her, standing with her back to me. Well-honed shoulder blades, straight neck, smooth back, and then that derriere -- not too big, not too flat. I imagined clasping it while holding her to me, her breasts flat against my chest.

I wondered if the front view was as spectacular as I strolled in a semicircle that would have brought us face to face.

"Ooh Mr Lancaster, there's someone who'd like to meet you!"

I stifled the automatic frown as I turned towards the annoying media escort I'd been assigned for the evening.

"Yes?"

"Over there," she took my elbow and guided me towards the person she wanted me to meet, trying all the while not to fall over in her high heels.

"May I introduce the High Commissioner of Guyana to the United Kingdom, Ms Nadia Shabab?"

The lady in red turned to me and my breath caught in my throat.

"Ms Shabab, Mr. Lancaster. Mr Lancaster, Ms Shabab."

"How do you do?" we said together.

I couldn't stop myself from looking. She was even more spectacular up front. Smooth, ebony skin, high cheekbones. Wood would do for her, I thought.

"I saw some of your sculptures at the gallery Mr Lancaster," she said. "They're spectacular."

"Thank you Ms Shabab," I smiled.

"If I'm correct, you've done only one full statue," she remarked.

"Yes. They take too long to work on. I prefer busts," I explained.

"Really?" she had a mischievous smile on her face.

"I mean, busts are more interesting to work with," I said hastily.

"Oh," she lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes," I said. "Especially in the nude. There's a lot of detail."

"Interesting," she remarked. "And I suppose that's why you work only with female models?"

I averted my gaze. Was she being flirtatious or was she trying to get me to say something offensive? My eyes met hers again and I tried to gauge her intent.

"The female body is beautiful," I replied. "I feel privileged to replicate it in my work. Of course, in order to fully appreciate all its features, it has to be in the nude."

"It definitely shows in your work," she said. "I know this is hardly the place to discuss business. Can we talk sometime?"

"Definitely ma'am," I said politely and took her proffered hand.

It was a full fifteen minutes after she left that I opened my fist slightly to sneak a peek at the silky panties she had pressed into my palm.

_________________________________________________________

It was drizzling when I walked out of the gathering and made my way towards the black limousine described in the note concealed in the panties I had been given.

"Mr Lancaster?" the man standing beside the car asked.

"I'm Lancaster," I said.

He pulled open the door and ushered me into the darkness of the back seat before jogging around to get behind the wheel.

"Drive us around the city, Amar," the voice came from beside me.

The partition shot up and we were alone.

"I happen to do a little sculpturing, Mr Lancaster," the High Commissioner said.

"Really?" I asked, my throat dry. I wasn't listening to her. The thoughts running through my mind all ended with one common fact -- she wasn't wearing any underwear and I was still holding a pair of panties in my fist.

"Yes, mostly male," she sighed. "The phallus is such a sight isn't it?"

I was making rapid connections in my mind and it didn't take me long to figure who she was.

"You're the one called Shonell," I stated unnecessarily.

Shonell was an anonymous sculptor who only carved phalli -- with foreskins, circumcised, bisected, and all the other variants. Her work didn't show up in major art exhibitions but they thrived in the entertainment industry. A particular actor I knew was an ardent collector and I had one as a present from my ex.

In reply, she found my zipper in the darkness and extracted my cock. She wrapped her fingers around me and stroked up and down my shaft, then her tongue was in my ear and I was tingling from the sensations she evoked in me.

Our lips met in the darkness. She explored my lower lip, sucking on it, tasting it, teasing me, then moved to my upper lip. By the time her tongue found its way into my mouth I had overcome my nervousness and reached for her breasts.

They were pert and soft when I weighed them in my hands. I found the straps of her dress and tugged them down her shoulders, conscious all the time of her wily tongue dipping in and out of my mouth, never quite letting my own tongue catch u with it.

I undid her bra and cupped her breasts. my thumbs found her nipples and they tautened at my touch as I stroked them. I broke off the kiss and went after her breasts like a maddened bull. She stopped masturbating me and moaned softly, stroking my hair.

I pushed her away from me and located the hem of her dress in the darkness. Getting on my knees on the floor of the car, I buried my head between her thighs and got her cunt opening on the first try. This time the moans were louder and she gushed copiously onto my tongue. When she screamed, I knew I had brought her to orgasm.

Without giving her time to recover, I got into my seat and pulled her into my lap, impaling her on my cock. It seemed like forever before I got all of my dick into her, then I was gripping her ass and thrusting away.

I erupted inside her and as our mixed juices ran down my cock, I wondered if life got any better than this...

________________________________________________________

Yesterday a package arrived in the mail. Even before I opened it I knew it was from the woman known as Nadia to me, Shonell to others. I didn't have to measure the sculpture, but I did and it was a perfect fit.

I'm working on a bust now and I known I have the right dimensions. I just know.