Xanadu
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In Xanadu Ch. 02 free porn video
Before she raised her hand to knock on the solid oak door that led into the house, Jane again took a deep breath. She thought she had things under control now. A tingling sensation ran through her body from head to foot. Her scalp tinkled. Her eyes were sharply focused. All of her senses were on the alert. The aroused nipples of her breasts, brushing against the restraint of her bra, felt alive. She was excited alright. But Jane put her excitement to the fact that she was so close to finally getting to the heart of this difficult story. She often felt this electricity, this arousal when she was nearing the nexus of a story.
Her body straight, her shoulders back, Jane prepared to knock on the door when, suddenly, it swung open.
It was Roger Fanderpeice. He had opened the door before she had even knocked. Six three, cleft chin, curly black hair, intelligent blue eyes. Wickedly Handsome! Buff. Wealthy beyond most people’s dreams. The very sexy man of mystery.
‘Ms. Bederson, Jane Bederson, I presume,’ he said.
The question she had prepared herself to ask him flew from her mind. Instead of throwing the question, Jane threw out her arm, extending it to shake his hand.
As advertised, Roger Fanderpeice not only looked good, but also exuded sex. She would have to ask that professor at Harvard whether it could have been pheromons. Whatever, he was the sexiest man she had ever met.
‘Yes, I’m Jane Bederson. And I’m glad to meet you Mr. Fanderpeice.’ He knew who she was. Well, she knew who he was. Jane hoped that made things even. She felt her body warm as Fanderpeice took her extended hand into his and shook it. His touch was electric, though Jane thought she had pretty well covered up any sign of the effect his touch had had on her.
‘Yes, please come in, and please call me Roger from now on,’ he said.
Jane heard the door shut and then lock behind her as she followed Fanderpeice into the house.
Jane thought of herself as one tough babe, a woman at the top of her profession, a fearless writer of exposes, not afraid of anything or anyone…..except of herself, except of her own desires, those deep needs that she constantly fought to keep from distracting her from whatever matter was at hand. This place was certainly making it hard to keep her mind on the story and free of sex (as if those were two separate and distinct things). But Jane was determined.
She walked a little ways into an anteroom. She noticed the carvings on the woodwork along the wall. They were apparently copied from the Kama Sutra but in modern dress (or undress, rather). She stared at one section of carvings. It was a section in which each block, each scene was related, scenes that, as Jane read them in sequence, moved as they would in a movie, a couple moving slowly from one position to the next, the expressions on their faces were of shared ecstasy. There were pictures framed above the carvings, beautifully drawn pictures of the most obscene actions, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, all sort of activities she knew she would have fun trying to find metaphors for so that she might be able to describe them in even an R rated publication.
She smiled to herself. This was a hell of a presentation. The pictures certainly were something. They were obviously artistic, and Jane tried to look at them like that—-as if she was in a museum and they were merely art. But that was hard to do. Her loins were warming. She could feel her breathing deepen. If the anteroom was meant to put visitors to Xanadu in a sexual frame of mind, it was doing its job.
Jane shook her head, she had to get her focus off her cunt, she had to get it onto the story. But… suddenly, Fanderpeice was standing right behind her.
‘Interesting pictures aren’t they?’ he said, his voice almost a whisper. He continued, ‘You know, they were all painted by one of our member artists.’ Fanderpeice leaned closer to Jane.
He pointed at one of the paintings. It showed a woman on her knees, bent at the waist, her hands flat on the floor, one man lying underneath her, his prick in her cunt. Another man was behind her, his long rod thrust into her anus. In front of her stood another man, his weapon fully into her swollen mouth. Around the quartet, stood several men and a couple of women, all naked, fondling themselves and each other, aroused, waiting their chance to join in the debauchery. The painting was at once coldly realistic and strangely erotic, warm, vivid and beautiful.
‘Is that who I think it is?’ Jane asked. The woman on all fours, being filled with sex surely looked like one of Hollywood’s biggest stars, the winner of a pair of Oscars,
one for best supporting actress, the second for leading actress. Jane had interviewed her several years ago—-before the actress had become a star.
‘I can tell you that it is,’ said Fanderpeice. ‘
Suddenly Jane recognized one of the women standing with the others waiting a turn at the actress. It was the first lady’s social secretary. Jane’s friend. Her college classmate, Kay Maxwell. She was one of those people Jane had asked about Xanadu, about Fanderpeice. Kay was one of those who had told Jane she didn’t know anything about this place.
‘That person on the right,’ Jane blurted out.
‘Yes,’ said Fanderpeice. ‘Kay Maxwell. She wasn’t happy about having to lie to you about me, about the fact that she was part of Xanadu. I promised that when you got here I would offer her apology to you.
What was going on, thought Jane. She was sure that he had pointed to this particular picture so that Jane would notice Kay.
‘Can I get a copy of that picture? For the article.’ Jane asked Fanderpeice. She wanted a second to think. She wanted him to be reminded she was on a story.
‘Yes. Of course,’ he said. ‘I suspect, however, that printing the picture in your magazine might present a problem. Releases would probably be extremely difficult if not impossible to get.
‘Thank you,’ she replied, smiling nicely. She was trying to play this as cool as he was.
‘I guess right now is as good a time as any to let you know,’ he said, giving her an open and friendly smile, that…’
‘What? That I won’t be able to get this information into print?’
‘Not at all.’ Again, he smiled that open, that friendly smile. ‘You are entitled to use any or all of the information you obtain in any way you wish to use it.
‘What, then?’ Jane was angry. She felt she was being toyed with. She hadn’t come here to meet this man, to see this place in order to be played with.
‘What I wanted to fell you was that you, you Jane Bederson, are entitled, as I said, because you are a member of Xanadu. And, as a member, you are free to act as you wish.’ Fanderpeice continued, ‘We have no hold on you. Our members are promised that Xanadu is here to offer them fulfillment….in the fullest sense of the word. That is what you are being offered right now.’
‘What if the thing that fulfills me is to get the best story I can get?’
‘Then you can have that. Fullfillment is our middle name, it is our whole name, it is what we give.’ Fanderpeice said. ‘We ask nothing in return.’
Jane was here to get a story and here she was, stuck in the middle of some sex museum with a sex-addled curator. She quickly opened her purse and pulled out a pad and a pen. ‘I’ll be taking notes,’ she said. ‘I am here for the story.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I am sure that you have some questions prepared. Ask away.’
He is some smug son of a bitch she thought. Jane decided this was as good a time as any to ask. ‘Your penis,’ she said, let’s see how he handles this, she thought, ‘Your penis, what is its girth and length?’
‘At ease, so to speak, or primed and ready to go?’
Smug and cool, a real tough bastard, Jane thought. ‘Primed and ready to go, as you so nicely put it,’ she replied.
‘Thirteen point nine seven centimeters in
girth at last measurement,’ he replied.
Jane thought for a moment. ‘Five point five inches around,’ she said. ‘Length?’
‘Eight and three quarter inches,’ he said, smiling.
‘Nineteen point six two centimeters,’ she said after a moment’s thought. ‘You are quite the man,’ she added.
‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘and may I compliment you on your mathematical ability.’
Jane thought that this interview might be fun. And challenging. It was only with a small part of her mind that she wished that Roger Fanderpeice wasn’t quite as charming as he was.
‘ I’m here to answer all your questions, to help you get the story.’ said Fanderpeice,
‘Why the secrecy? Why did Kate Maxwell feel that she had to lie to me?’
‘ She wasn’t comfortable lying, but Kate did know, had been told, I promised to her that you were a member or, more accurately, would be a member of Xanadu as soon as you arrived here. Actually you were a member before now only you had not been informed of that. She was aware that nothing would be withheld from you,’ said Fanderpeice. ‘We had no intention of keeping the truth from you. Kate knew, when she spoke with you,that you would soon be told everything.
‘By the way,’ Fanderpeice added, ‘a few other of our members spoke with you and I apologize now for them, their transgression of interviewer-source etiquette.’
Jane couldn’t figure out how angry to be or even whether or not to be angry. She had an understanding with her regular sources. They could absolutely refuse to answer. They could always give her a terse, ‘no comment,’ but they never lied to her.
She looked at Fanderpeice. ‘What do you mean about me being a member? I never joined anything.’
‘We select our members. Members nominate new members, we check the nominees out and if they check out, they become members. We’re sort of like the Macarthur awards, the ‘genius’ prizes. People don’t apply. Macarthur winners are notified they’ve won by a telephone call. We notify our winners in person.’
‘The Macarthur award is a half million no strings cash award,’ said Jane.
‘And ours is fulfillment,’ said Fanderpeice. ‘Also, with no strings attached.’
‘And what is all this about sex?’ Jane asked.
‘Sex is one of the things we fulfill.’
‘But all the emphasis?’
‘Sex is extremely important to us. It is what our membership is about. It is not the requirement for membership. It is what membership to Xanadu is for.’
‘I’m afraid you lost me somewhere along the way.’
‘Each of our member’s need for sex and how that need helps or hinders the member’s success. We are here to facilitate the sex so it is no longer a hinderance. ‘
‘I am not sure I get where this is going,’ Jane interrupted. ‘And exactly what do my sexual needs have to do with all of this?’ Jane had her needs. Who didn’t? But she had them under control. She had never let those sexual needs interfere with her life, not with her professional life, not with her relationships with men….or women.
‘Let’s go to my office. It’ll be more comfortable there, and it will be a lot easier for me to answer your questions there.’
Either Fanderpeice was what he said he was or he was a stark raving lunatic. Jane thought of the Oscar winning actress, of Kay. Neither was crazy. Apparently, he wasn’t stark raving mad or they wouldn’t have been involved with him. Maybe a sex maniac. But he hadn’t made what Jane could recognize as a pass at her.
‘Lead on, Macduff,’ she said. Jane felt her clitoris swell, harden, push against its covering sheath. For whatever reason, Fanderpeice was very, very sexy. It had to be pheromons.
‘It is very important that you know,’ Fanderpeice said, ‘sexual fulfillment is just a small part of the fulfillment we offer.’
‘That doesn’t sound very erotic.’
‘Aux contraire,’ he said. Our members receive the information, the help, and the contacts that will allow them to reach the acme of their profession.’ He led her into his office, a modern office with a large desk, a couch, several chairs and a huge piece of
what appeared to be an abstract art work which filled nearly the whole wall to the left of Fanderpeice. Opposite that was a wall full of books. Jane walked to inspect the titles—everything from the Marquis de Sade to Ainis Nin and Toni Bentley, from The Story of O to Web of Desire. She pulled one of the volumes, it was a tome of beautiful photographs of the most graphic sex scenes she could imagine. She was trying to decipher one photograph of what seemed to be nine naked people laying about in a complicated configuration on a pillow-strewn floor when Roger Fanderpeice spoke. Once again, he was standing just behind her. This time he leaned over her shoulder, pointed at the picture she was looking at and said, ‘It will quickly make sense once you focus on the lady on the right and realize that she has just swallowed the ejaculate of the man above her.’
Jane was no prude. She had never shied away from conversation that dealt with sex. She had been sexually active since her freshman year in college. So why was she suddenly so uncomfortable? Well, maybe not uncomfortable, more exactly restless, or tempestuous, or, perhaps, on edge. Most probably, it was just that she had no idea of where this was going.
‘Please, sit,’ he said to Jane.
She sat on the couch. This was all intriguing, interesting, and, yes, she had to admit to herself, arousing. She could feel the lubricant of vagina juice wetting the inner linings of her cunt. Desire was threatening to overcome her. But Jane was determined to get control of the interview. Pen and pad in hand, she changed the subject,’ Let’s begin at the beginning. When did Xanadu start? Who started it? Why?’
Fanderpeice moved out from behind his desk and sat on a chair, several feet from the couch where Jane was sitting. ‘Easy questions to answer,’ he said.
‘At least the who and when part: ‘When’ was eleven years ago. ‘Who’ was the Commander and me.’ He leaned back on the couch. ”Why’ because we recognized we could.’
‘Ok,’ Jane said. She didn’t show any of the surprise she felt when hearing about the commander. ‘What is it all about?’
Fanderpeice nodded. ‘There are two qualifications for membership: First, our members are people on the very fast track and headed for great success. Second, they are people who are being, if not held back, are being held to less than is possible by the sexual tension they feel.’
He leaned forward, intent on answering Jane’s question. ‘The Commander and I,’ he continued, ‘recognized immediately we met that we were kindred spirits. We realized that for all the wealth we had acquired, all the power, all the fame, there was one thing we had been deprived of and that thing was sex.’
‘Come on,’ Jane said. ‘You. The Commander. No sex?’
‘Not sex. Certainly we each enjoyed quite a bit of sex. But it was the need for care, the necessity of finding the right partner, the fact that we needed to practice some sort of discretion. The fact is that the best sex occurred when the partners had made some sort of commitment to each other, had a real and abiding affection for each other. Of that there can be no doubt. And yet it is that fact that creates a hinderance to the things not associated with sex. There are demands between partners, even if the demands are not voiced or demanded that compromise our abilities to achieve all that we might in other endeavors. The perfect sex partner wakens in us a desire to please that partner in endeavors, in ways not associated with sex. ‘
‘What you’re talking about seems to me to be love,’ said Jane.
‘You might call it that,’ said Fanderpeice. ‘What if I were to tell you that Xanadu is love?’
Jane Bederson looked at Roger Fanderpeice.
‘What the Commander and I realized is that Xanadu would be an avatar for love. Xanadu, although we didn’t have the name as yet, or even the form, th
at Xanadu would be the giver of love that required no requite. Xanadu would offer sex but would neither need or ask for anything in return.’
Jane said nothing. Sometimes when she was interviewing a person it was best to just allow that person to go on.
‘Jane, you must be aware of the fact that you have sexual needs that you didn’t dare fulfill or try to fulfill either because to fulfill them would require a loving bond with someone who would require you offer them some amount of something in return, love, care, help, or only attention.’
Jane thought for a moment.
Fanderpeice stared at her, ‘I am sure, The Commander is sure too, that your sexual needs have been hampered by your drive to get to the top of your profession and that your work has been slightly less exuberant than it might have been had your sex drive been better attended to.’
Jane said nothing though she felt that just maybe Fanderpeice had hit on some truth about her. Just maybe.
He continued,’ It was a looser sex, an adventuresome sex, an unfettered freedom to enjoy what sex we wanted, more than wanted, needed. There was always the danger of exposure that would hurt our business ventures. There was also the personal problem. Hookups were for younger people than we were. Emotional entanglements were too likely to ensue if we allowed ourselves to indulge our sexual cravings. I am not talking about illegal urges or urges that involved damage to others. I am not talking about sex with minors or about sex that was not consensual. But we were, we felt, being deprived of was that impersonal, novel, untried sex that we occasionally felt an urge to try, but had no means of attempting because of our positions, because we didn’t want scandal, the possibility of blackmail, or because the logistics for obtaining playing partners seemed to be too difficult.’
‘And Xanadu, this place, this organization is an organization set up to allow you and the commander to have non-traditional types of sex?’ Jane asked. ‘And what does all of this have to do with telling me that I am a member of this organization?’
Fanderpeice smiled. He stood and moved to sit on the couch where Jane was already sitting. Jane’s eyes were drawn to look at the wall behind Fanderpeice and at the large piece of art which hung there. The piece of art was abstract and unusually complicated but seemed to at moments resolve into a readable but still elusive picture. She thought it must be a Martha Quinn. Quinn was the current star of the art world with major shows in New York and London at the same time.
He was still smiling. Sitting less than a foot away from Jane, Fanderpeice continued, ‘We felt that you were one of us.’
‘Ok, explain,’ said Jane. Be cool, Jane reminded herself. So far she had not learned very much except that The Commander was involved—-and Kay, and the movie star and Martha Quinn. And that Fanderpeice was a very sexy man.
Suddenly, the art piece on the wall behind Fanderpeice, seemed to come to life. Jane was almost able to make out action or a scene of some sort. But it still wasn’t possible for her to make out details or understand what it was showing.
‘You’ve noticed the painting,’ he said. ‘It’s a Quinn, of course. Martha gave it to us, a gift. She spent nearly a year on it. As do all Quinns, the intermingling of electronics with paint resolve into recognizable elements only when seen from certain angles, and then become a series of changing scenes. Martha Quinn became a member of Xanadu four years ago. She has been very happy to be a member, as we hope you will be happy too.’
Jane turned her attention to the picture being shown on the wall. At first, she had trouble seeing the picture. Then, after she moved her gaze slightly to the right, the abstract painting began to resolve itself into a series of remarkably life-like scenes as sharp and clear as HD television.
And the scene she suddenly found herself looking at….it was more than amazing. Fanderpeice had moved off of the couch, giving Jane an unimpeded look at the art work. At the center of the piece was Harriet Ott. Harriet Ott, President of one of the great Ivy League colleges. Known for her intelligence (she had been dean of a rival college’s law school prior to her present position), she had also been long admired for her breathtaking beauty as well as for her sweetness and likeability.
Lesley
- 25.01.2021
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