‘Give her to me then,’ Ducasse commanded.

‘Bonjour?’

‘Francine,’ Fabian drawled, ‘yesterday, you said if I needed anything, to speak to you.’

‘Bien sûr – what can I do for you?’

‘I need something in my room,’ Fabian explained. ‘You will come.’

‘Directly,’ said Francine, turning from her colleague to hide her flush and the surreptitious unbuttoning of her shirt by one notch.

Fabian assessed the room and looked at his watch. He would not be wanting her on the bed. Not least because, after he had done what he intended to do with her, he would sleep for another hour or so. He did not want her on the bed because he desired no intimacy. He had no need, no wish, for a woman to be curled up and languid under white cotton, not leaving. Fundamentally, he did not want her on the bed because it would add time and necessitate seduction; his time and his seduction skills were precious commodities Fabian was not about to waste.

There was a discreet knock at the door. Fabian padded across the room and let Francine in. He was a sight to behold; naked and with an erection so arrogantly defiant that it needed neither introduction nor justification. She was pretty with a lovely figure but Fabian hardly clocked the facts. All he knew was that she had previously offered her services which, he deduced, meant warm, welcoming pussy. That was enough. That was what he wanted. That was all he wanted. And if he knew women, or at least those who made overtures to him midway through a Stage Race, she would be pleased to be fucked by Fabian. So, everyone was going to be happy. Let’s get on with it, tout de suite.

He backed her up against the closed door, unbuttoned her blouse and feasted his eyes on her impressive cleavage. He wasn’t going to waste time unhooking and unfastening, he just yanked the bra cups down so that her breasts were squeezed out and on display. He reached up her short skirt and ripped down her panties. She wasn’t very tall so it was good that she was wearing high heels; they could stay on. The skirt would have to go, though, as it prevented her spreading her legs wide enough. But the clasp and the zip – too complicated. With a desirous growl, Fabian ruched the skirt up until it was bunched around her waist like a deflated life ring. He took a step back and regarded what was on offer. Great tits. High heels. Shaved pussy. Best of all, utterly silent. Yeah!

Fabian placed the palms of his hands on each of her inner thighs and spread her legs easily. He took his hands to her breasts and moulded and fingered and grabbed at them, fixating on her nipples between his finger and thumb. Then he grasped her buttocks, bent his knees and bucked up hard, entering her with what he assumed was pleasurable force. Certainly, her gasp would have him believe that. He fucked her hard and came in about ten thrusts. No doubt she came too, oui? He grinned triumphant, proud at the glazed response he’d caused in her. He righted her skirt, buttoned her blouse albeit wrongly, handed her the panties and kissed her on both cheeks. It was the first and only time his lips had touched any part of her.