Mark of the Cobra
When his company sends Peter Hartmann to meet a new prospective client, he is obliged to do more than just sign some contracts. After being arrested for a crime he didn't commit, his violent past catches up with him and takes him on a roller coaster ride filled with danger and sexual encounters.
The gate opened. Peter Hartmann drove down the winding driveway toward the large house. Through his open window, he smelled the fragrance of flowers and trees in bloom. The noise of a lawn tractor made him aware of the immaculate lawn and the neatly trimmed shrubbery.
He parked his car and walked slowly to the huge front entrance. Thick pillars held up a large canopy so high it made him feel dwarfish. As he approached, the door opened, and a black girl in a maid’s outfit asked him to come in. “Mrs. Liebman is waiting in the library,” she said. “This way, please.”
She walked in front of him. He took great enjoyment watching her plump buttocks roll inside her tight short skirt. She had nice legs, too.
The woman who sat at a small round table got up when Peter walked in. She was fairly tall, slim, and middle age. Early fifties, Peter estimated. Her black hair was tied in a tight bun behind her head. The black, high-collared long dress she wore clung to her body, revealing a nice, curvy figure.
“Hello,” she said with an enchanting, beautiful smile, shaking his hand. “I am Rhonda Liebman.”
“Hi. Peter Hartmann.” He held her hand for a brief moment, feeling the urge to bend down and kiss it. Something about this woman radiated class, almost royalty. “I hope I’m not too early.”
He noticed the diamond-studded earrings, the necklace of delicate woven gold strands, and when she pulled her hand away, the sunlight from the large window caught in the multifaceted diamond she wore on her third finger.
This woman represented money and power. He would have to tread very carefully.
She laughed. “With my husband, everybody is always early. He’s been held up at a meeting, but that’s fine. I am his silent partner. You can discuss business with me.”
“All right.” Peter fumbled with his briefcase, but Mrs. Liebman held up a hand. “There is time, Peter.” She smiled and walked over to a small couch. When she sat down, the slit in the front of the dress parted and exposed two long, well-formed tanned legs. “You young people are always in such a hurry to talk business.”
She crossed her legs and patted the seat beside her. “Come, join me for a drink and tell me a little about yourself. I like to know more about the people I do business with.”
Speaking to the servant girl, who had been waiting patiently by the door, she said, “Two glasses of white wine, Rita.”
Peter sat down beside the older woman, feeling somewhat awkward and apprehensive.
“Can I ask you a question?” he asked.
“I recently met a Delta Liebman. Are you by any chance related to her?”
Rhonda laughed. “You’ve met Delta? Yes, we are related. Through marriage. My husband and her husband are brothers.” She paused a little. “Delta and I don’t always see eye to eye.”
“It happens. My girlfriend and her sister aren’t exactly friends, either.”
“So you’re not married?”
“No, I am not, but Kathleen and I have been living together for five years.”
“She is younger?”
“Yes. Eight years.” He felt as if he were on trial. “She’s very beautiful,” he added.
Mrs. Liebman laughed. She had a captivating laugh. “I’m sure she is. A handsome man like you would never settle for an ugly one. Children?”
Peter shook his head. “No.”
“We’re not married.”
“That is not a valid reason. People have children without getting married.”
“I guess they have.” He hesitated. “It’s medical. Low sperm count. I’ll probably never have children.”
The maid brought the drinks, interrupting their conversation. Peter almost emptied half the glass. Catching himself, he put the glass onto the small table beside him.
Mrs. Liebman just sipped hers. Looking at him over the rim of her glass, she said, “That’s too bad, but I’m sure there are compensations.”
He chuckled, somewhat embarrassed, guessing what she meant, but he feigned ignorance. “Like what?”
Smiling, she put down her glass. “You ever cheat on the woman you live with, Peter?”
He looked into her hazel eyes, a sudden flash of heat creeping up his neck. He didn’t know how to play her game, and he knew she was playing with him. Like a cat with a mouse. I’m the mouse.
Her eyes were cool, almost cold, her face unreadable.
Don’t blow this one!
“My job takes me away from home a lot,” he said carefully. “A week can be a long time, and it gets quite lonely sometimes.”
She drained her glass and got up. “Would you like to go for a swim?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice sounding flustered. “I mean…sure. I’d like to, but I’m not prepared for a swim.”
“No trunks?” She chuckled. “We’ll find you a pair.”
Rita, the maid, brought him a pair of swimming trunks and led him to a change-room outside. When he emerged, he saw Mrs. Liebman already waiting by the pool. She must have worn her outfit under her dress.
Peter tried not to stare but failed. This woman had the body of a twenty-five year old, and she displayed it liberally in her string bikini and a tiny halter that barely covered her nipples.
She noticed his staring and smiled, studying him in return. “A bodybuilder,” she commented.
“I used to, but lately I’ve been neglecting my workouts a bit,” he said.
She gave him a cryptic smile. “I believe in workouts myself. What do you do?”
“Martial arts, mainly, and some weightlifting.”
“You’ll have to show me some of your moves sometimes,” she said. “Maybe I’ll show you mine.” She laughed softly.
“You’re into martial arts?”
“Not really. It’s more like acrobatics.” She looked at his trunks and smiled. “You want to cool off?”
His eyes had been feasting on her luscious body. He couldn’t believe this woman was over fifty. She certainly didn’t look like the tough old bird his boss had called her. Her waist was maybe not quite as tiny as that of a younger woman, and her hips a bit too fleshy, but her belly was flat and trim, her buttocks and breasts looked firm and solid. His loins were beginning to pound, and his penis came to life in his borrowed trunks.