Too Much LoveChapter 34 free porn video

When Max wrapped an arm around her waist from behind and cupped her breast with his other hand, Paige gasped. When he pinched her nipped between thumb and forefinger, her knees went more than a little weak.

He kissed the crook of her neck. “I’m going to need to remind myself not to do this at the party. Aren’t I? I’m not really trained to separate nudity and sex.”

Paige let out a long, contented sigh. “Poor boy. How will you ever manage?” She said it like she was teasing, but Max did have pretty terrible timing. This was the first time he’d been particularly sexually aggressive with her and she was glad for it, but he was going to have to put that new-found instinct away for a while if they were going to behave themselves in company.

“I suppose that depends on what kind of party it is,” suggested Paige. “Maybe Oberon’s planning an orgy.”

“I doubt it. He said he’s inviting Dutch people.” Max pointed out. “Even the phrase ‘Dutch orgy’ sounds like old-timey slang for a corporate board meeting or something.”

“And conversely, a French board meeting is slang for a proper orgy.” Paige laughed and wriggled against the hardness pressed into the small of her back.

Max groaned and pushed her towards the bed until she allowed herself to fall forward with her hands on the coverlet. A cool breeze told her that Max had managed to remove her bikini bottom without her noticing he was trying to only a moment before his finger pressed insistently, seeking entrance to her flesh.

“Max...” Paige spread her legs to give him better access. First one finger, then another teased its way inside of her. They hadn’t been together long, but he’d become quite proficient at finding the spots she liked being touched best.

Paige closed her eyes and moved against Max’s fingers with a gentle rhythm. As he touched her with slowly increasing intimacy, she felt the nature of their relationship changing. In some ways, it was exactly what she wanted. Whatever her outward persona, Paige hadn’t entirely managed to kill the earnest, well-meaning girl she’d been growing up in Indiana. Every time she initiated sex, she was torn between feeling like a bold, sophisticated woman or like a slutty girl. She was determined to kill the voice that called her names and sounded suspiciously like Betty Dibbler from church back home, but while she worked on that, it was nice to have someone else making the decisions once in a while.

On the other hand, Paige liked being worshipped. When she was entirely frank with herself, she could admit that part of her attraction to nerdier guys was that they behaved like they were lucky to have her. She was just old-fashioned enough to think anybody she had sex with should feel that way, but early experiences with a couple of really good-looking guys suggested some people thought her pussy was just their birthright.

Of course, Max wasn’t going to stay overawed by her forever. His proximity to Nick’s wealth meant he was frequently surrounded by terrifyingly beautiful women who had a vested interest in being nice to him. She just hoped he wouldn’t start taking her for granted too soon.

If he did, at least there was still Harold.

Just as she had that thought, Max’s ministrations sent her over the edge to a place where there wasn’t much thought at all and kept her there with unflagging effort.

She was so suffused with pleasure, she registered the sensation of one finger moving from her sex to her ass only as some sweet pressure for a long moment before she realized what he’d done.

“Oh, Max...” she gasped. “You want to go there now?”

Max didn’t withdraw his finger, but teased it a little deeper. “Not necessarily. If we’re going to ... uh, go there, I’d rather not be looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone to come over looking to bring us to a party. Are you saying I shouldn’t visit until I’m ready to move in for a while?”

Instead of trying to answer, Paige gave voice to her pleasure. It was easier than trying to figure out what words would convince him she didn’t mind at all.

Max was a generous lover, but he still had his own motivations and Paige was happy to help him fulfill them. When his hands went to her hips, she spread herself wider and reached back to guide his cock inside of her.

He took her thoroughly, the pleasure overwhelming her even more than it had from his fingers. He even stopped in the middle to help her roll on her back before resuming his assault.

When he finished and stumbled back from her, Paige let out a shaky laugh. “God, Max.”

He knelt on the bed and kissed her. “Didn’t think I had that in me. Did you?”

Paige shook her head. “I thought you were just after a quickie.”

Max laid a hand on her stomach. “Disappointed?”

“No. I’m whatever the opposite of ‘disappointed’ is.” Paige rolled on her side and kissed his shoulder. “They’re going to look at me funny if I get to the party and I can’t walk, though.”

Max beamed. “That depends on what kind of party it is. It may be a French board meeting.”

Paige laughed and traced his knuckles with a fingertip. She was content to lay on the bed for a while, basking in contentment. But the sound of Max’s soft snoring brought her back to reality enough to decide she should get a shower before anybody came looking for them.

She was halfway across the living room before she realized there was a naked woman sitting at her kitchen counter, drinking something from a tumbler. She gave an audible gasp before she could stop herself.

The woman turned and looked her over from head to toe. “You must be Paige?”

Paige moved to cover her chest in some sort of far-too-late modesty, but managed to transform the intent into placing a hand on her heart. “I’m sorry. You startled me. You are... ?”

“Anais-this-week.” She said quickly, like it was one word. “Giovanni sent me. Do you want something to drink? There’s still some vodka.”

“I ... uh ... should get a shower.” Paige gestured towards the patio. “Uh ... what are you doing here? Has the party started?”

“Not yet. It won’t really get going until nine at least.” Anais poured more vodka into her glass. “This is where I come when my lovers start bickering with each other.”

“You’re ... staying here?” Paige was torn between feeling like she was intruding and like she’d been intruded on. Living in a dorm had given her a certain tolerance for shared intimate spaces, but also a keener awareness of the hard limits of that sharing. “Are we double-booked?”

Anais frowned. “I don’t know what is ‘double booked.’”

“It’s...” Paige frowned and shook her head. “Never mind. I need a shower.”

As she stood under the spray out on the patio, she tried to decide if she was justified or being a bitch. Anais had startled her and, while she could enjoy either playing hostess or being company, she didn’t particularly want to do either immediately after sex before she’d had a chance to either wash or get dressed.

She stayed out in the shower and lost in her own thoughts long enough that she eventually realized she was hearing voices from inside and that Max must have gotten up. She quickly turned off the water, dried her hair a bit, and wrapped herself in the towel.

Inside, Max was sitting across the kitchen island from Anais, a glass in his hand. When Paige closed the patio door, he looked up, momentarily guilty at having been caught staring. “Paige, Anais and I were just talking about ordering some dinner before the party. What do you think?”

“I could eat,” acknowledged Paige. “I need to dry my hair first, though.”

“Great. I’m starving.” Max offered her a sleek black binder. “You and Anais have something in common, by the way. She’s studying film at...”

“La Femis,” pronounced Anais.

“Yeah, that,” said Max. “Paige is at NYU.”

“Oh. They have an excellent film school,” said Anais. “You study there?”

“I’m studying communications actually,” said Paige.

“Ah ... What is?” Anais looked puzzled.

“More the technical side of making films and other media,” said Paige. Not liking how it made her sound like a mechanic instead of an artists, she added. “I also kind of fell into acting there.”

“Paige has a big following on YouTube.” Max rose from his seat. “I should show you some of her stuff.”

“Maybe later,” said Paige quickly. She handed Max back the binder. “Order me something with chicken, please.”

Locked in the bathroom, Paige blow-dried her hair and once again drew on her mental armor. It had become a near-constant practice pretty much since the first moment she’d stepped into the Loft. Her proximity to Max and Nick had been huge in opening up her ability to become less the girl she’d been and more the woman she wanted to be, but it sometimes meant holding on tightly with both hands while her identity changed around her.

Sex on the plane and then convincing Max to stay at Club Indochine had been the two craziest things she’d ever done and they’d come in very rapid succession. The party tonight might well provide multiple opportunities to top herself again. She didn’t think Max would fault her if she decided she’d reached full libertine for the weekend already, but she hated the idea of leaving an opportunity that might never come again on the table. She couldn’t just decide to try something the next time she was in a nude resort with her billionaire-adjacent almost-boyfriend and his borrowed jet.

She really should have taken Anais up on that drink. Liquor was the glue that held mental armor in place.

Anais had taken Paige by surprise. After a bout of really good sex, she’d been entirely inside her own head and not at all braced for the weekend’s next challenge. One does not expect to stroll into their own living room and be faced by the embodiment of their own aspirations.

One of the first thoughts Paige had when she spotted Anais was that this was the real deal - effortlessly comfortable in her own skin even when breaking and entering, exotic, sophisticated, and a little bit louche. Plus, she spoke French. Paige had no doubt that Anais could see right through all her own artifice to the naive, provincial red-state girl she really was. Anais’s gaze drained her courage - like she could invalidate Paige’s entire persona with the right word.

Paige finished drying her hair and let it hang loose around her shoulders. She probably should have gotten a more sophisticated cut before this weekend, but it was too late to worry about that now. She’d planned to keep her makeup light tonight in case she ended up swimming. Instead, she redid her Taylor Swift look as best she could from memory, scaling it back a little because she wasn’t compensating for the camera. Once she was satisfied, she pursed her red painted lips in the mirror, took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and strode out again.

Max was sitting across from Anais and laughing hard. When he saw Paige, he gestured her over. “Paige, I think we have to go to Kathmandu next. It sounds like a blast.”

“Not Machu Picchu?” Paige quipped. “I hear it’s really happening in August.”

Anais looked her over. “I have never been. Giovanni went once before we met. It sounded like too much work for too little fun. You have been?”

“Not yet.” Paige wasn’t about to admit that her entire time abroad so far amounted to today and a day trip to Toronto. “Why were you in Kathmandu?”

“My father is ... an architect,” said Anais. “He was helping to build a ... water-electric thing for the government of Nepal. We lived there for almost twenty months.”

“Our friends are there this weekend for a charity concert ... for the earthquake,” Max reminded her.

Paige had forgotten that detail, but was glad Max had said “our friends” as if she knew Dennis, Lev, and Arwen more than a little. It made her sound like part of their merry band. She found herself a glass and emptied the vodka bottle into it. “Is your father worried about his water-electric thing ... because of the quake?”

“Maybe. He is ... still in India, I think.” Anais swirled her glass. “He has a new thing to worry about there.”

A knock at the door announced that their dinner had arrived. The man who delivered it was fully dressed in a bellhop uniform - short sleeves and shorts, but a uniform nonetheless. As he left, Max pointed to his own black, knee-length togs. “That reminds me. Anais, am I going to be overdressed if I wear these to the party? This is my first naturist event.”

Anais waved away his concern. “There is no dress code. Club Indochine is not a ... militant place. You can wear a tuxedo if you like and it would be very boorish for someone to say it is bad or wrong.”

Max snapped his fingers. “I would, but I left my good tux in New York.”

Anais gathered wine glasses from the cabinet. “Yes. You two are from New York. I would like to go see, but I do not believe it exists.” She gestured to Paige with a wine glass.

Paige nodded. She hadn’t finished her vodka yet, but she would soon. “You don’t believe New York City exists?”

Anais placed glasses on the kitchen table and retrieved the wine bottle that had come with their dinners. “I believe there is a place called New York where people say it is, but until you go there, it is a fantasy or no ... a legend.”

“How so?” Max asked.

“You see New York everywhere - Woody Allen, Spiderman, the Glee, the Friends.” Anais poured three glasses of wine. “Fort Apache the Bronx, The Taking of Pelham 123, Serpico, the Girls. In all of them, New York is a character, but it is ... morphic or synecdoche.”

Rather than focus on the probably-English words she didn’t know, Paige honed in on another point. “You watch Glee a lot at La Femis?”

“And the Friends.” Anais lifted the top on one of the cloches sitting on the cart, then brought the whole dish to Paige. “I am addicted to American TV. This is where I learn my English.”

“Really?” A tightness left Paige’s chest. Imagining Anais sitting in front of a TV laughing at Ross and Rachel or singing along to Don’t Stop Believing made her much less intimidating. “How does that go over?”

“Go over?” Anais looked puzzled.

“How do your friends react to that?” Max filled in.

“Oh. My friends, we watch everything.” Anais smiled. “Other students, not so much. French people can be very...”

“Pretentious?” Paige offered.

“Yes ... and racist.” Anais nodded. “Many of them don’t make friends with Vietnamese people. I have more friends here than at school.”

Paige wasn’t sure what to say to that. Max asked, “So, you’re Vietnamese?”

“You can’t tell?”

Max shook his head. “I didn’t grow up in New York City. There was only one Asian family where I grew up and they were Thai. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I saw my first white person when I was eleven,” said Anais. “I have no idea what you two are either.”

“My family came from Denmark and Sweden,” said Paige.

“Mine came from New Jersey,” said Max. “The Whitfords are probably English, but I don’t think anybody’s ever done a proper genealogy.”

They chatted relatively amicably over dinner, good food, vodka, and wine mellowing everything considerably. Afterwards, when Anais had gone to freshen up, Paige said, “She’s not as strange as I expected.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “What did you expect? She seems plenty strange to me.”

“I don’t know.” Paige rose and stretched. “I figured anyone sleeping with Oberon and his sister would have to be pretty unusual. I didn’t think she would enjoy Friends.”

“Well, yeah. But really, nobody can relate to a group of six friends who all live together in New York in apartments that big.” Max smirked as he wiped his mouth.

Paige laughed. “You know, the whole show takes on a much more sinister aspect if you assume that the reason they could afford those places was because Ross was secretly a billionaire and Monica was helping him gaslight the rest of them.”

Max opened his mouth to answer, then seemed to thing better of whatever he’d been about to say. “You know, I never watched much of it actually.”

“Friends?”

“Well, that - or TV in general really. My parents didn’t want me to have a TV in my room because porn. I rarely wanted to watch what they were watching. I mostly get my culture from the Internet.” Max offered.

“Where there’s absolutely no porn at all,” Paige suggested.

Max laughed. “They put a nanny filter on my computer, but it was a cheap one I was able to work around. Hopefully the one I gave Tucker will prove a little tougher to crack than mine.”

“I didn’t have a TV or a computer in my room. My parents were very big on family time.” Paige admitted. “A lot of family time was spent watching bad sitcoms in the living room.”

Max nodded thoughtfully. “Do your parents know you’re in St. Martin for the weekend with me?”

“No-o.” Paige shook her head and drew the word out. “Yours?”

“Not a chance,” said Max. “They know about you, but I try to avoid mentioning anything that reminds them how rich Nick is. You know how it’s kind of a cliche that college kids are always calling their parents, asking for money?”

“Maybe...” Paige hedged. She’d had more than a few of those phone calls already.

“I’ve been in New York a month and already written my parents two checks,” said Max. “The last call, my father was hinting that his car might need to go into the shop soon. He thinks it’s the transmission.”

“I guess the Creepy Clown Bulletstorm residuals couldn’t keep them happy forever?” Paige asked.

Max gave a mirthless chuckle. “I don’t think there’s any amount of money that will keep them happy forever. Nick’s put some money aside for me to give them as I see fit and he’s promised more if need be, but I can’t help thinking I’m going to have to cut them off at some point. I’d rather delay that point as long as possible, so I don’t give them any information that would suggest they can ask for more faster.”

Max sounded troubled. Paige hugged him. “What do you think the deal is with them and money?”

“I don’t know. They were always borrowing from my grandfather while he was alive, then my father got into a big fight with his sisters after his father died that had something to do with the proceeds from selling his house.” Max frowned. “I haven’t heard from any of my aunts on that side since I was twelve. I just realized I should probably contact them now that I’m out on my own ... for some definitions of ‘my own.’”

Paige wondered if that was a good idea, then wondered if it was really her place to wonder. She was saved from having to comment by Anais emerging from the bathroom.

“There should be some guests at the house by now.” Anais said. “We can go if we like.”

As they walked up the beach, Paige reflected that she and Max might have more in common with the admittedly strange young woman accompanying them than any of them did with their own families. Reading between the lines, she thought Anais was estranged from her parents. Max was looking at setting up a firewall between his finances and his parents’. A big part of Paige’s reason for staying at NYU this summer had been how unbelievably awkward the previous summer living in her parents’ house again had been after nine months away. Even before leaving for college, she’d never been the daughter her parents really wanted, but a year away had really reinforced her desire to be her own person.

“Have you known Giovanni and his sister long?” Paige asked.

“I met Gianna in Tokyo when I was sixteen. Her lover was studying something with swords. I don’t remember the name.” Anais looked out over the water. “She was the first one to call me Anais.”

“That’s not your real name?” Max asked.

“It is this week.” Anais smiled broadly.

“Do you change your name frequently?” Paige asked.

“No. I have only done it once,” said Anais. “But I think that, when I become a man, I will change it again.”

Max was surprised enough to freeze in his steps. Paige was pretty shocked too, but not so much so that she couldn’t turn and glare at him to try to keep him from being too gauche, then turn to Anais. “You’re planning to become a man?”

“Yes, but not this week ... or this year,” said Anais. “I have no desire to ever be an old woman and this world, I think, is made for old men and young women.”

“I ... never thought about things that way,” said Paige. So much for the three of them having a lot in common.

It wasn’t a long walk to the mansion the Ferrari-Stones were staying in, but it was taken in silence. The house itself stood on a cliff overlooking the ocean and was accessed by climbing a set of stone stairs. When they reached the top of the staircase, they stood at the edge of a swimming pool containing a dozen or so people with as many again walking back and forth between the pool and the house - a modern-looking building with flat roofs and wide windows facing in all directions. Most of the people were completely naked.

“I will let my lovers know you are here.” Anais kissed each of them on the cheek.

In the seconds after Anais had left them and anyone else noticed they were there, Max said, “That is a lot of penises.”

Before Paige could formulate a response, a squat, broad-shouldered, extremely hirsute man and a petite woman with no body hair at all approached them. The man said, “You must be Max and Paige. I’m Woody Carmichael and this is my wife Adelaide.”

The four of them took turns shaking hands and Adelaide kissed each of them on the cheek before Woody said, “I’m the club bursar. If you or your friend Nick have any questions about the membership application process, Adelaide or I can either answer your question or point you to someone who can.”

“What my husband meant to say was ‘Welcome to Club Indochine. Please enjoy yourselves as our guests and don’t worry about making any decisions until you’re ready to.’” Adelaide added.

“That too.” Woody said. “Did I hear right that you two are from New York?”

“Most recently, yes,” answered Max.

“Addy and I grew up in Lodi, New Jersey,” said Woody. “Can you still hear the accent?”

“Just a hint.” Paige held up her fingers a fraction of an inch apart, a comically large understatement. Woody’s accent was extremely pronounced.

Edmee made it over to them next. Now wearing only a little white thong, she leaned in and kissed each of them on the cheek. “I’m glad you two made it. It’s so good to have fresh blood at these things.” She linked arms with Paige. “If Woody is done trying to get you signed up, I can introduce you around - rather than having everyone swarm over here to meet you as soon as they notice you.”

“That ... would be good. Right?” Paige looked past her to Max.

“Sure.” Max sounded distracted.

“Why don’t I start by introducing you to the bartender first?” Edmee offered. “We can be kind of overwhelming as a group.”

“That sounds good,” agreed Paige. Vodka and wine aside, this was a lot of naked people to be introduced to at once.

Still, she and Max got through it all right. The bartender was Ekitti, a woman of some Eastern European extraction wearing only a pair of pink kitten ears. Mr. van der Linden owned a construction company with his father that had built many of the houses at the club and thought Paige was beautiful. Peer de Jager was a photographer who wanted to work with Paige if she ever decided to do any modeling. Katja ... something was one of his models. She’d never been to a nude resort before, but she was loving it and would enjoy working with Paige.

And so it continued. They made a slow circuit of the pool area and the yard, shaking hands and eventually kissing cheeks once Paige realized that pretty much everybody did that here. After her first screwdriver emptied itself into her stomach, Paige guided their little group back to Ekitti at the bar for a refill. The second one gave her enough fortitude to return the fairly regular stream of compliments she got.

Plenty of people had called Paige beautiful in the past. She’d learned not to say, “Oh, you should see...” whatever part of her body she was unhappy with shortly after arriving in New York, but it was a new experience to hear it from people who were seeing every inch of her. There were some very attractive people at the party and some decidedly less attractive ones. Some of the latter, she was surprised to realize, were actually more appealing for having no clothes on. She’d never noticed how unflattering clothing could be to people who didn’t conform to the exact proportions designers thought they should.

Edmee eventually led them into the house where a woman in her thirties with bleached blonde hair sat cross-legged on a chair, holding court. When she saw Paige and Max, she unfolded herself and strode over. “You must be my brother’s guests. I am Gianna.”

“I’m Max and this is Paige.” Max took Gianna’s hand and kissed her cheek, having apparently picked up the same cue Paige had.

Gianna took Paige lightly by both wrists, spreading her hands a little to look her over better. “You are a delight. Aren’t you?”

Paige had managed to receive all the other compliments with relative equanimity, but she blushed now. “I’ve ... never been told that before.”

“Well you are, my dear.” Gianna smiled at her. “Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“Max and Paige, you made it!” Giovanni’s voice boomed against the walls as he entered the room. “Good. Good. Dinner is nearly ready. You will join us at the main table? You are the guests of honor.”

“Uh, sure.” Max didn’t point out that they’d just eaten and Paige followed his lead.

Giovanni led them further into the house to a dining room with a dozen chairs. He and his sister took the head and the foot of the table. Paige wound up sitting between Giovanni and Max and across from Woody and Adelaide. As soon as they’d sat down, Woody said, “Max, do you know anything about the construction business?”

“That’s the one that builds things. Right?” Max offered.

“We do.” Woody accepted a glass of wine from the host. “Eric van de Linden and I manage about ninety percent of the construction on Saint Martin between us. We’re working together right now to try to renovate a resort called Paradise of the Sun. Did you ever hear of it?”

“Here on Saint Martin?” Max asked. “I can’t say I have. This is my first time on the island.”

“Beautiful place - really famous in the sixties and seventies. Frank Sinatra used to play there.” Woody said. “It got flooded pretty badly during a hurricane in eighty-three and the owners had too much debt to borrow the money they needed to affect proper repairs. It’s been sort of languishing ever since - six owners in thirty years. It needs about fifty million in renovations, but it’s a billion-dollar property.”

“Sounds like a hell of a project,” Max offered carefully.

“It is. We’ve raised about eighty percent of what we need already, but we could still use one more big investor,” said Woody. “You wouldn’t happen to know any big investors. Would you?”

“I might.” Max accepted his own wine glass. “And he has developed a recent interest in real estate. Maybe you could send me something to share with him when I get back to New York.”

Much of dinner passed in the same vein. Everyone at the table seemed to have something to pitch to Nick by way of Max who fell neatly into the role of listening intently, asking a few questions, and promising nothing in such a way that even Paige started to feel like he was an important young man with near-access to Nick’s fortune.

“Paige, Anais tells me you’re a bit of a celebrity on ... YouTube?” Gianna offered into a break in the conversation.

“Barely,” said Paige. “I made some comedy videos with my group at NYU that garnered a few million views.”

The low thrum of conversation around the table suggested people weren’t quite sure what to make with that information until Max added. “Nick was impressed enough with them that he fully funded the next batch.”

The conversational tone changed from uncertain to approving. Adelaide said, “I have to see them. How do I find them?”

Paige answered, bemused by how closely the table listened to her now. She added, “The next batch will be with a new group called ‘All Edge. No Center.’ Nick said he might even act in one of the videos.”

Later, when the conversation shifted away from them, she leaned in towards Max. “This is kind of surreal. Isn’t it?”

“Dinner with a dozen mostly naked people?” Max asked. “Happens to me every Tuesday.”

“I’m over that too,” Paige claimed. “I meant how Nick’s name is like a benediction here. For all these people know, he could be your imaginary friend who happens to be a billionaire and a Stone. That certainly doesn’t make him an arbiter of taste.”

“It doesn’t make me a real estate investor either,” said Max. “But I figure we can fight the misperceptions here or enjoy the notoriety. Which would you rather do?”