Chapter One

The sun was warm, the air full of light breezes and the sound of the low surf was repetitive and soothing. Felicia stirred, face down on the oversized towel she’d spread out on the sand, half asleep and feeling quite pleased with herself. She really should have come to Europe sooner. Back home in the States, she was just one more young college student, easily lost in the crowd. But here, thanks to her Midwestern good looks, she was regarded as something exotic, mysterious and infinitely desirable. Men drooled over her honey-blonde hair, her lithe young body and her long, lovely legs. They looked into her guileless blue eyes, they fantasized about kissing her full-lipped mouth, they practically fell over each other trying to attract her attention and, once they had managed to do that, tried to impress her, often by bestowing her with gifts.

She didn’t really understand it clearly. There were plenty of other pretty young women around. Privately, she thought a lot of them were prettier than she was. But none of them were from the US, and that seemed to make all the difference to the men. She supposed that you could take just about any pretty young woman from here, drop her somewhere in the States, and have the men there make fools of themselves over her. It was an interesting notion.

The sun grew warmer on her bare back. She was so very, very comfortable that it took a huge effort for her to rouse herself, but she’d spent quite enough time to maintain her glowing golden tan. If she stayed out here any longer she might burn. Sleepily, she groped for the strings to her bikini top, found them, and somehow managed to knot them back together. Then she rose up onto her hands and knees, holding that pose for a moment for the benefit of any man who might be watching her. She knew that there had to be some.

There were other women on the beach, of course. Many of them were young and pretty. Most of those young and pretty ones strolled about topless. She could do that too, but didn’t for a number of reasons. One was that doing so would ruin the tan lines she’d cultivated so carefully. Marcello seemed to like them very much, and right now it was important and profitable, to keep him happy. Another was that if every other girl was going topless, the one who wasn’t had men speculating over what she might look like if she was topless. And finally, while the pretty, young, topless women all sported pert, perky little A- or B-cup breasts, hers were full, round, ripe C-cups. They were nice and firm, and she wanted to keep them that way for as long as she could. This meant that she and gravity were never going to be friends. In fact, gravity was her relentless mortal enemy and she had to use whatever she could to fight it. Besides, the right top could enhance her appearance and move men from speculation to drooling. She liked it when men noticed her that way. She really, really liked it.

She stood up, slowly brushing imaginary sand from her hips and legs and firm, round ass. That also attracted male attention. It bothered Marcello when she did that, but he wouldn’t be here for a little while yet. Even if he had been here, she probably would have done it anyway. It kept him on his toes, knowing that there were plenty of other wealthy men interested in his exotic American playmate who would quickly step into his place if she found any reason to reject him. So he showered her with expensive little gifts and paid close attention to her moods and desires. And when they went to bed, he was very, very considerate of her other wants and desires. To be fair, she was almost as considerate of his, as long as he understood that she did not grant her favors lightly. It didn’t take much to keep him happy. She sus