Intensity Read online

  “A bikini would definitely be better,” he said as he untangled one of the straps.

  “Yeah, a red one,” added Wesley.

  “No bikini and definitely not red,” replied Keziah. “I may be still shaking from those two orgasms so close together, but I do have a couple of functional brain cells.”

  The three wrangled amiably for a while before settling on a tankini, and she could choose the color, as long as she shopped at Sasha’s store on the second level.

  “Hmm, sounds like you know something I don’t,” she commented but conceded nonetheless.

  The three adjourned to the main pool and swam a few laps, then plunged once into the icy pool before retreating again to the hot tub.

  “Ahh, this is most definitely the best place to be,” said Keziah. “Is it always this quiet here at night? When I came up and had a look earlier today, there seemed to be quite a few people around.”

  “Yes, a lot of the office workers use it during the day but not so much at night. I think the two families on twenty-one come here a bit at weekends though,” added Wesley.

  “We’ve come up occasionally at night, but there are never many people here, though.”

  “Yeah, I noticed the condoms and your technique with the bench!” replied Keziah.

  “Since you’ve come into our lives, we will never go anywhere without them.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what does the Board think about the ones in your desk drawer?”

  “What the Board doesn’t know won’t hurt it. Which reminds me, Wesley and I will be tied up in a board meeting tomorrow from ten a.m. but it will be over by one p.m. They start getting hungry about then, and I never serve more than coffee.”

  “Smart move!” Keziah laughed.

  “Will you be lonely without us?” Two faces with puppy dog eyes stared solemnly at her.

  “I’ll manage somehow to survive. I’ll go and get some groceries, stuff like that because I start work Monday morning at eight.”

  “We’re thrilled you got that job. And it’s just a start,” affirmed Amos.

  “Yeah, watch out, buddy. She’ll be running the company before you know it,” joked Wesley.

  * * * *

  They toweled off, threw their clothes back on, and went back upstairs. Then the men sat on the bed and advised Keziah about the clothes she should wear to her new receptionist job.

  “Classy,” insisted Amos.

  “I need to blend into the background a bit,” said Keziah, pulling out a navy suit and a gray suit.

  “They’re boring,” said Wesley, jumping up to look in the closet.

  “Not with my blue blouse. And I have a lilac one, too,” Keziah argued.

  “What about green or red or bright pink or gold?”

  “Not my colors. I need to blend into the background,” she repeated.

  “Honey, let us dress you. We want to you to stand out, not blend in. You’re a beautiful, intelligent person. We want everyone who sees you to know that instantly. Please, let us choose you some new clothes.”

  “Absolutely not. This receptionist job is for an hour a day. It’s nothing. And even the other one is only twelve hours a week. It’s insane to spend money on clothes. I should be helping buy food and stuff like that. Pay the light bill and things.”

  “The company owns the flat, so they pay all the utilities. And if you’re cooking for us, that’s your share of the food situation,” said Amos.

  Both men must have noticed the mulish set to her chin, because Wesley riffled through her closet a little more and pulled out a straw sunhat and a pair of stilettos. Slipping them on, he pranced around the room singing, “The sun’ll come out, tomorrow.”

  Amos fell back on the bed laughing, but Keziah rushed to him saying, “Don’t stretch my shoes with your huge feet!”

  Wesley kicked the shoes off, pulled his T-shirt and jeans off, then dropped a sundress over his head. He made no attempt to do it up but settled the straw hat back on his head and began to dance and sing again. He pulled Keziah into his arms and had her waltzing around the room.

  Amos hopped off the bed and sorted through her clothes. He found himself a deep pink shirt, which he put on over his T-shirt, bowed, tapped Wesley on the shoulder, and said, “May I have this dance?”

  Keziah dropped a necktie around her neck, swiftly tied a half-Windsor knot, then inserted herself into the dancing again.

  Ten minutes later, the three of them collapsed laughing and giggling on the bed.

  “Hmm, I see a parcel that needs unwrapping,” said Amos, focusing on her necktie.

  “And since your shirt is undone, you may as well take it off,” she responded. Then turning to Wesley, she added, “You shouldn’t wear hats inside,” and she flipped it off.

  Amos continued to undress Keziah as she pulled the shirt off him, and within moments, all three of them had their hands everywhere, peeling off the last few items of clothing.

  Wesley lay flat on the bed, his head toward the foot, and pulled Keziah to him. “Suck me,” he asked. “It’s been so long since you’ve done that, and you do it so well.”

  “Delighted to,” she replied and kneeled by his cock.

  He grabbed her legs and pulled her body onto his in the traditional sixty-nine position, licking her bare mons as she sucked his cock deep into her mouth.

  Amos grabbed a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on, then asked, “Room for one more?” and kneeled at Keziah’s feet. Carefully placing a leg on either side of Wesley’s head, he slid into Keziah’s cunt from the rear.

  Wesley immediately alternated between licking and sucking Keziah’s clit and labia to sucking in Amos’s balls. First he’d nibble and suck the clit, then a ball sac, then the labia, then the other ball.

  Keziah was in sensation overload, the nibbling on her clit combined with the cock thrusting in and out of her cunt was driving her wild. She concentrated on twirling her tongue around the head of Wesley’s cock, then running it under the ridge, then pushing the tip of her tongue into the eye of his cock. Then she’d suck him in as far as she could until the head of his cock touched the back of her throat.

  Keziah let him slide out of her mouth a little way and nibbled gently on his shaft, only to run her tongue under the sensitive cap again and suck him in hard.

  Amos thrust deep inside Keziah, twisting his hips a little which gave maximum penetration, increasing her pleasure.

  It was obvious none of them was going to last long, their sensations were so intermingled and interdependent. Kezia’s cunt was starting to spasm and she could feel the men’s balls drawing up tight against their bodies.

  “Ahh,” groaned Wesley as his cum spurted from his cock, hitting the back of Keziah’s throat as she sucked him hard.

  “Mmm,” she responded, careful to cover her teeth as she shook and spasmed with the force of her orgasm, the salty-tart taste of his cum in her mouth heightening her pleasure.

  “Yes!” added Amos as her rippling cunt milked his cock and sent him over the edge to join them.

  Chapter Four

  Wesley knew Amos would be upstairs in his office at nine the next morning checking through the faxes, phone messages and e-mails, making sure everything was ready, and there were no last minute hiccups liable to happen. Amos’s personal assistant was extremely efficient and everything would probably be in perfect order as usual. But in the back of the minds of both men there was a premonition of things going wrong.

  Wesley was a little on edge, too. He reread the agenda and could see nothing that Andrew Smith-Johnstone could use to cause trouble. The man was a loose cannon. He had absolutely no sense for business, no feel for the company, yet could not quite let go and leave it to his son to deal with.

  The three years between John Smith’s death and Amos’s taking over had been fraught with difficulty as many board members and senior managers had felt that Andrew should have succeeded John as CEO instead of the position being held in limbo until Amos turned twenty-five. But by the e
nd of the three years, even those most loyal to Andrew were forced to admit Amos’s decisions were invariably better for the company than Andrew’s.

  Wesley brought his laptop into the meeting just in case he needed to look something up to back up Amos with facts.

  As soon as Andrew walked in the door, whispering fiercely in Harley Petrou’s ear, Wesley knew the shit was going to hit the fan.

  But dammit, what shit. He reread the agenda for the tenth time. There is no item here Andrew can complain about. It’s all stuff we have done before and nothing the least bit controversial. Harley is a nice guy but far too loyal to Andrew. He must know how totally incompetent Andrew is.

  Wesley thought back to the truly explosive board meetings when Amos first took over as CEO and Andrew was trying to prevent him from changing anything.

  Yeah, Harley never once voted against Andrew. He is loyal, I’ll give him that. But I do recall him abstaining from voting a couple of times, which proves he knows Andrew’s faults. But what has Andrew gotten up his sleeve this time?

  The last three board members entered the room together and settled in their seats, so Amos called the meeting to order, his PA picked up her notepad and pen to take the minutes, and the session was underway.

  But although the first few items of business moved through very quickly, the tension in the room was palpable. Everyone was fidgety, and it was blindingly obvious something was going to happen very soon.

  “Item six, the financial statement. Has anyone any questions for Morton?” asked Amos, gesturing to the CFO seated on his left.

  “Yes, I do,” said Andrew, rising to his feet and stretching to his full height. “I do not see a notation of the amount of rent Keziah Holden is paying to stay in the company apartment. How much rent is she paying Smith, Inc.?”

  “She’s not paying rent. The apartment is for my use, and she is Wesley and my guest,” replied Amos quietly.

  “But there’s only one bedroom,” objected Andrew.

  “So what’s your point?” asked Amos, still speaking in quiet, measured tones.

  “You’re fucking both of them! It’s evil, disgusting, an abomination! It will bring the company down, bring our glorious Smith Incorporated vision into disrepute. Our clients will leave in droves, the company will go bankrupt as soon as our customers and staff discover your distasteful sexual orgies,” almost screamed Andrew, waving his arms and bouncing up and down on his toes.

  “Andrew, are you and the Board aware that five of our staff are practicing Muslims and one is a Mormon?” asked Wesley, tapping into the staff database on his laptop.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” asked Andrew. “We have a serious breach of company ethics under discussion here.”

  “Yes, I’m discussing it. Mormons believe in plural marriage, and Muslims take multiple wives. Are you suggesting that Smith, Inc. should stop hiring people of these religions?”

  “Of course not. Freedom of religion is enshrined in our laws.”

  “Exactly. And what’s the difference between a man having several wives and a woman having several husbands?”

  “A man has needs. It may take several women to fulfill them all. And besides, that’s a religious decision. A woman with two men is just plain disgusting,” spat Andrew.

  “Actually, polyandry has as long and broad a history as polygamy. It is widely practiced in Tibet, India, and Africa and among various Native American tribes. Are you going to suggest we don’t employ any Native Americans who follow the practice?” asked Wesley.

  The meeting disintegrated into chaos with people arguing over each other’s speech, voices rising louder and louder until Andrew shouted, “That’s not the point. What really matters is that Amos is fucking a man and a woman together!”

  In the silence that followed this remark, Amos stood, legs spread, hands on hips, his height and breadth of shoulder and cool, controlled demeanor looking much more impressive than his father, whose face was red and sweating and whose lips were flecked with spittle.

  “This meeting is adjourned until ten a.m. tomorrow at which time matters will be discussed in a calm manner without any dramatic displays. Is that understood?” he asked, looking everyone in the eye, one by one around the table.

  Heads nodded, one or two almost involuntary “yes, sir’s" were heard, and even Andrew dropped his head and grunted. Then they all filed silently out of the room except Wesley.

  “So what are we going to do now?” he asked Amos.

  * * * *

  The issue of the second set of fire stairs was itching at Keziah’s mind. She had intended to ask Amos and Wesley if they knew about them, but somehow between all the sex and then them preparing for the board meeting, she hadn’t gotten around to it. So now she was googling door alarm systems and taking careful note of the wires and electric sensors and suchlike on the various Web sites.

  She changed into soft canvas shoes, stuck a flashlight and her cell phone in her skirt pocket, hung her keycards around her neck, and went out into the hallway.

  “Since it is on this floor, surely the apartment keycard should open the door,” she muttered. “Garry seemed to think it was old John Smith looking after his family, and therefore, the apartment dwellers should be able to open the door.”

  Keziah examined the door carefully. “No wires.”

  She stepped back a bit and looked closely at the ceiling, the cornices, the corners of the hallway, and anywhere else an electric sensor could be concealed. Then, a little embarrassed, she got down flat on the floor to check for any light beam that might be broken by someone approaching the door.

  “Nothing, nothing, nothing,” she said, repeating her searches slowly and carefully. “Dammit, this has to be a fake. There is nothing here. It must all just be signage designed to keep inquisitive people away.”

  And where are you going to get the money to pay for the callout fee if the alarms do go off?

  Quit vacillating. Just do it.

  Keziah stepped up to the door, swiped her apartment keycard, and pulled the handle. The door opened easily, and she walked through into the stairwell, forgetting her plan to look for a light beam on this side of the door before entering. The door shut behind her, but the automatic lights in the stairwell had turned on when the door opened so it was as bright as day as she walked up the stairs to what she estimated to be one level.

  At the top was another door. Excited, she swiped her keycard again, pulled the handle, and walked inside.

  It was an average bedroom-sized room, with one window covered by a flat metal shade that allowed people to see out but no way to see inside. There was a deep, comfy chair in front of a TV turned on to a sports channel, a large bookshelf packed with books, a single bed, and a small table with two chairs.

  Keziah’s mind was running wild with possibilities, so she walked over the bookshelf to look at a row of photographs there. She recognized a recent one of Amos and Wesley, and an older one of them aged maybe twenty-one or so. But the most fascinating picture was an old black and white one of two men who looked vaguely familiar but not quite right. Keziah picked up the photo and stared at it for a long time before placing it back on the shelf and moving a bit farther along. Here was another picture of the two men. They were much older now, and the picture was in color, though quite faded. The men had gray hair and with them stood a young woman holding a baby.

  “I bet that baby is Wesley!” she exclaimed aloud. That’ll be old John Smith with Wesley’s grandpa and his mom.”

  “You’re right,” said a voice behind her. “I knew all along you were a very intelligent woman and a perfect match for Amos and Wesley, and you have proven so today!”

  “Shit!” screamed Keziah whirling around.

  A ghost was sitting in the comfortable chair, his right ankle resting on his left knee.

  “How the hell—who the hell—wait. You’re old Mr. Smith. You’re dead!”

  “Yes, I’ve been dead over three years now. And that photo is James
and me with James’s daughter, Shirley, and her son, Wesley, when he was only a few months old. Not long after that picture was taken James passed on, but he was thrilled to have a grandchild. You’d think no one had ever achieved such a milestone before.” The old man smiled, his bright blue eyes shining with unshed tears.

  “He was your best friend, wasn’t he?” she asked softly.

  “Oh, he was much, much more than that. This is why I have been watching you and waiting for you to find me so I could tell you why I am still here.”

  Suddenly, Keziah realized she was in a locked room with a ghost.

  Shouldn’t I be screaming my head off, or phoning the cops, or security, or the paramedics? Nah, he’s just the sweetest old man. Like I always imagined my grandpa must have been.

  John drifted up from the chair, waved to it, and said “Sit down, and I’ll tell you my story.”

  “Where are you going to sit?” she asked.

  He settled himself on the table and looked at her as if he was waiting for her to ask him some questions.

  She mentally ran through their conversation. “Why haven’t you gone into the light yet? And what do you mean James was much more than your best friend. Was he a partner in the company? I know Wesley is Amos’s second in command.”

  “James and I were the same kind of best friends as Amos and Wesley. More than just business partners, although he was an astute businessman and of great help to me setting up Smith Inc. in the early days. And far more than just fuck-buddies, although we did that, too,” he added, grinning widely as Keziah blushed at his use of the coarse term.

  “And like your two men, we enjoyed sharing a woman. Then we both fell in love with Maria. She was the prettiest little thing. Dark hair falling in ringlets to her waist, the whitest skin I’d ever seen, and as hot as hell in bed. But in those days, condoms were unreliable, and no matter how carefully a woman counted the days of her cycle, sex inevitably led to pregnancy, and only one of us could marry her.

  “Ideally, we would have liked to continue as a threesome, but it wasn’t possible back then. We were pretty sure the baby was James’s child, and I had the business to concentrate on, so James and Maria got married, and I was their best man. Eight months later, Shirley was born, and although she had Maria’s hair and eyes, her build was definitely James’s, and as she grew she had his talent with sketching. Neither Maria nor I could draw a straight line, so she truly was James’s daughter.