“I have a surprise for you this afternoon,” he announced over dessert.

  “This is all surprising for me. I thought we were going to be in London for a longer while. There’s a lot we didn’t see.”

  “London is a lovely city, but I think summers should mostly be spent near the water – and I don’t mean a river like the Thames. We’ll return another time for sightseeing.”

  “Okay. So what are you up to this afternoon? Am I getting my hair cut again?” Claire knew that Elliot, unlike most men, liked and preferred short hair on women. Of course, he wasn’t like most men in many ways.

  “Not at all, I quite like it the way it is. I want to spend some time appreciating it before it changes. No, what I have in mind is something new, although we’ve talked about it from time to time.”

  They lingered over lunch for a while longer. He liked watching her hair ripple in the wind, liked the sparkle in her eyes – almost the same blue as the water at the beach. He loved looking at her thin brows and how they gave her pleasant face an air of sophistication which, he felt, better suited her inner self. After a while, he rose and, hand-in-hand, led her to a small shop only a block from the restaurant.

  “This is a tattoo parlor!” She exclaimed as he turned her towards the door. “What are we doing here?”

  “I would think it’s obvious,” he teased. “I now know that the secret tattoo you claimed to have was just pretend. But it got me thinking that it’s time you got a real one, as you promised long ago. Since this spot was so conveniently close to the restaurant, it seemed to me that this should be the time to do it.”

  “This is no accident. You set this all up.”

  “Of course, I did. Claire, I never leave anything to chance, you should know that by now. By the way, you’re also going to get a little bellybutton decoration while we’re here.”

  She gulped as he led her inside.

  Like everywhere they’d been, Elliot seemed to know the people in the shop, and they seemed to be waiting for him. He introduced her to Amié, a tattoo artist. He surprised Claire by asking her, “Do you want to select the tattoo, or shall I?”

  Claire looked at him and, without hesitation, told him, “I want you to pick for me. I want whatever you want for me.”

  In French, Elliot gave Amié instructions on what was to be done. Claire was asked to remove her silk blouse and Amié began to stencil a design on her back left shoulder, just to the left of her shoulder blade. She lay on her stomach as the artist began.

  “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! That hurts!” She shouted. He reached over to hold her right hand.

  “There. You asked me long ago to hold your hand if you ever went to get a tattoo, so this should make it better.” He was purposely teasing her like a child.

  “Well it doesn’t help! This hurts. You should try it!”

  “Perhaps I will, some day. Today, however, I’m helping you achieve a long-standing goal.” He laughed again and patted her bottom, still holding her hand. She gripped his fiercely.

  In an hour and a half, she had a beautiful, golden, three-inch-long sea horse, outlined in fine aquamarine lines, on her shoulder. They showed it to her using a mirror.

  “It’s pretty,” she admitted. “Do you like it?” She was always concerned with what he liked.

  “It is pretty. Just what I had in mind.” He said the last in French to Amié.

  “Now turn over, Claire, so Amié can work on your navel.”

  “I think I’ve had enough pain for one day. How about if we do this later in the week?”

  “I think not. This is a good day to get it over with. I promise; I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Okay, but I’ll hold you to that.”

  Reluctantly, Claire rolled onto her back, her smooth, flat stomach and cute, round navel exposed to the piercer.

  Amié was arranging a tray with various implements. The clattering was making Claire even more nervous. Sensing her increasing distress, Elliot bent over and kissed her firmly, hungrily. Claire’s thoughts cleared as she focused on his kiss.

  There’s something about his kisses, she thought to herself. He’s so much more intense. Somehow he puts his entire self into those kisses. It’s almost as though he can clear everything out of his mind when he kisses me. At those moments, I’m the only other person that exists. Wow!

  He kissed her again, long and devout. She barely felt a jewel placed onto her navel and, at first, she didn’t feel the needle go into her. It was more like she registered it as something that had already happened, but didn’t feel it until several moments later. Then it hurt a lot. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, she felt another stab just across from the first.

  She almost bit him and let out a sob, rather than a scream. “There, the worst is over,” he said, his hand gently stroking her forehead.

  Her senses heightened by the pain, she felt Amié push something through the hole made by the first needle, and felt the jewel press tightly against her. Then the sensation was repeated with the second hole. When she finally looked down, she saw a large diamond snuggly fitted into her bellybutton. A gold, curved barbell was inserted into the first hole above and to the right of her navel, then through the backing on the gem, then back out again, through the second hole in the skin to the left above her navel. Gold beads were locked onto the barbell just where it emerged from her piercings. Only the two gold beads were visible, one to the upper right and the other to the upper left of her navel. The barbell itself was concealed behind the stone, which it held in place.

  She was pierced twice again, below her navel. This time a full ring was inserted through the first hole, through the lower back of the gem, and pushed out through the other hole. Amié snapped it closed, locking it in place. This gold ring had another diamond-like stone and several gold beads dangling from the ring along a short, one-and-one-half-inch chain. The large stone in her navel was held tightly in place by the piercings, and the chain was free to dangle from the ring below it. Fortunately, her pubic hair was already trimmed to well below the dangling chain. The effect was intensely erotic. Claire found herself reacting hotly to the jewelry, in spite of the pain.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she whispered, almost breathless.

  “They’re custom made, of course. And in case you’re wondering, those are real diamonds, including the 12 carat one in your bellybutton. We’ve just increased your value on the open market by about a million dollars – assuming someone could possibly steal you from me and auction you off!” He laughed at his own joke.

  “Ha! Very funny,” she said. Holy cow! She thought. She stood up to get dressed. “The chain tickles when I move,” she noted.

  “One more thing to get used to, my Dear.”

  They returned to the hotel. Claire changed into a cropped–top blouse and low-cut shorts to keep pressure off of her navel, which was starting to get sore. They ventured out into the main shopping area of Saint-Tropez, because Claire decided she needed a new swimsuit to go with her much-changed look. They found an expensive shop in a side street off the main pedestrian thoroughfare.

  “You should probably get several,” he noted as they went inside.

  “What kind of suit do you want me to get?”

  “Oh I don’t know. Something like a one-piece that coves you from neck to thigh.”

  “Yeah, right. Well, I don’t want something like that ‘cause it would put too much pressure on my belly which, thanks to you, is getting sorer by the minute.”

  “You’re welcome. Pick out whatever you want. I think you have excellent taste in clothes.”

  “Is that why you bought me a whole new wardrobe before we left home? Because you liked my stuff so much?”

  “Well, you had to have something to wear. I just got a few things to get you started. I expect you to buy a lot of clothes on this trip.”

  They looked around the shop before Claire dove into the racks of two-piece suits, separated into bottoms and tops. She was hit by sticker shock.

  “These bottoms are over two-hundred dollars each! With the tops, you’ll be paying over five-hundred dollars for a suit for me!”

  “Gee, Claire, think how much that adds to your value, compared to that diamond in your belly. But if it really bothers you, you’ll just have to come up with a way to cut the cost of each suit.” A big grin followed that remark.

  “Hmmm, I guess they do mostly wear only bottoms here don’t they? But don’t you think these boobs are kinda big to be hanging out all by themselves?”

  “Not at all; they’re beautiful. You’ll probably get a lot of jealous stares from the French women, though.”

  “How about this one, then? Is it to your liking?” She held a tiny yellow bottom consisting of nothing more than a small, elongated triangle in front and a thin strip of material around the waist and through the crotch.”

  “You know what they say,” Elliot replied laughing, “You should floss every day!”

  For such a sophisticated man, he could be so corny sometimes, she thought, laughing out loud.

  They went together into a private dressing room so Claire could try it on. The fit was perfect (Like, what was there to fit? She thought), but there was a problem.

  “My bush sticks out on both sides of this little arrow that passes for the front of the – I don’t even know what you call this – it’s barely a swimsuit!”

  “We can fix that back at the hotel.”

  “I bet you’d like that.”

  “You’d win that bet. On second thought, they can probably wax it for you here.”

  “Oh God, more pain!”

  “What can I say? You’re living the life of the rich jet-setter that you are. It comes with its own unique trials and tribulations!”

  They finally left the shop with six thong bottoms in various colors and a couple of styles. And, of course, the Brazilian wax had reduced Claire’s pretty, remaining, private curls to nothing at all. Fortunately, the technician who stripped away her womanly fur had used a local anesthetic which worked pretty well. Claire responded to the rude waxing with only a few loud yelps, on her way to a totally hairless pussy. Back at the hotel, as she lingered in the whirlpool, deeply inhaling the moisture-laden air fresh with the scent of gardenias, she couldn’t resist touching, massaging, and feeling the sensuality of her smooth mound, the feeling of pleasure able to freely radiate from its denuded wetness.

  That evening, they hiked up into the hills above Saint-Tropez. They could see the meandering beach spread out below them, the water a dusky blue with the diminishing, early-evening light. They picked up a picnic basket at a small restaurant and found a knoll covered with soft grass, boasting a splendid view of Saint-Tropez. The picnic fare included champagne, Camembert and Gouda cheeses, a platter of cold meats, two baguettes, a bottle of red burgundy, and an assortment of fruit. They spread the blanket from the basket on the hillside lawn and ate reclining next to each other.

  As the night closed about them, the lights of Saint-Tropez began to twinkle in the distance. The brilliantly lit coastal hotels formed a necklace of glowing jewels circling the edge of the city. A light wind picked up from the west and cooled the hillside down quickly. Claire lay in Elliot’s arms, his body shielding her from the suddenly chilly breeze. Their kisses built up slowly at first. Then their mouths became hungry for each other. Their tongues fenced and licked within each other’s mouths. She slid her tongue along his teeth and up under his top lip. She loved the taste of him. Their lips pressed wetly together and she felt another wetness develop along her sex. With no pubes to contain it, it spread along her crotch, through her panties and onto her shorts. From somewhere far away in her mind, she realized that she’d need to wear panty liners from now on.

  His hand tenderly grasped her breast, somehow without pain, and kneaded her already erect nipple. Then it moved to her other breast. Then down the front of her shorts to cup her hot, moist, denuded cunt. A thrill radiated out from her center and continued to build as his fingers ethereally toyed with her clitoris. Claire came deliciously, fully clothed, with his lips on hers.

  “I owe you one,” she said dreamily afterwards.

  “No you don’t,” he replied kindly. ”I’ve taken my payment by having my way with you.”

  “You have had your way,” she admitted, smiling.

  “And I will continue to, Claire.”

  “I know. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want you to make of me whatever you wish. Whatever your wildest fantasy dictates. I give myself to you. I trust you. And I love what you’ve done to me. It makes me want more, Elliot.”

  His heart was so filled with affection and gratitude – to her and to the fates that be – that he was speechless. He lay back and gathered his wits. “Thank you for the wonderful gift of yourself,” he managed to choke out.

  “Mmm … you’re so welcome …” She dozed in his arms for an hour, before he forced himself to disturb her peaceful slumber so that they could begin their trek back to the hotel.

  As they meandered down the hillside, they came across a party at a small villa, already in full swing. When they waved to the party goers from the down-hill path, several invited them to join in the fun. They did. After some hours of talking and dancing, and many compliments on Claire’s new navel jewelry, they finally made it back to the hotel.

  In the morning, Elliot told her that they would be spending the evening, overnight, and the next day and night on a yacht that belonged to a French friend of his. With his encouragement, they shopped that morning for a formal gown for her, and jewelry to go with it. Claire decided on a long, sleeveless, navy blue dress with a tight satin bodice and narrow-cut skirt – slit at the side, of course. The bodice had a diamond-shaped opening in the front, exposing her bellybutton and its jewelry, and dipping down almost to her pussy. That had been one of the principle reasons for choosing the dress, both to show off the stunning navel diamond, ring and chain, and to keep the pressure off of the sore area.

  She chose gold loop earrings encrusted with sapphires, and one pair of sapphire studs for her second hole. The diamond studs would have to stay in her not-yet-healed third hole. Claire was amazed to find a shield that fit perfectly, to surround her diamond pendant with sapphires. Elliot insisted on a sapphire and diamond band that she would wear in her hair, just behind her bangs, and a matching ring with a huge, brilliantly blue sapphire. The astronomical cost didn’t make him flinch for even an instant.

  After the shopping and a light lunch, they made their way to a private section of beach near the hotel. Claire was wearing the yellow thong she’d bought the day before, and a large, loose, white linen shirt. She procrastinated at removing the shirt for as long as she could, before slipping it off as she lay down on the padded recliner on her stomach. She jumped up immediately in pain, having momentarily forgotten the soreness in her belly.

  “Yeow!” She exclaimed, her topless form suddenly visible for all to see. She knelt on the recliner and looked quickly around to see if anyone was staring at her. She’d drawn a few admiring glances for her ample breasts, but the predominately French beach population obviously saw nothing unusual in her being topless.

  “You’ll need to be careful of getting sunburned in those virgin areas,” he noted playfully.

  “I’ve always heard the sun is brighter on the mountain tops,” she joked, “so I’m really worried about this.”

  It still took her the better part of the afternoon to get over the self-consciousness that her newly-enlarged breasts caused her. Finally, exposing the “big girls,” as she called them, seemed the normal thing to do.

  They spent several sun-careful hours on the beach, people watching, sipping the local wine punch, and finally ending with two glasses of Woodford Reserve – definitely over-priced in France – straight up for Claire and on the rocks for him. It was a great taste of home, to end a satisfying, enjoyable afternoon.

  Chapter 3: She’s Got Me Dancing

  A boat from the yacht picked them up at a pier near their hotel at six o’clock that evening. They stood in the bow of the large launch, Claire’s arm in his, sipping a sparkling Mosel as they approached a huge black yacht with a white upper deck. Elliot’s friend and the yacht’s owner, René Catherinette, waved at them from far above. In a few minutes, they docked and joined René, his gorgeously Nubian, close friend Monique, and about a dozen others. The group included two young Greek couples, not long out of college Claire thought, plus an Italian fashion designer from Milan and his friend, a voluptuous brunette named Isabella. There was also Jean-Pierre, a hairdresser from Paris who instantly recognized Claire's hair as being "Vidal Sassoon - the Knightsbridge shop I'd guess," and who proceeded to flit around her poking and puffing at her hair to the amusement of the others. Monique's brother Claude and his wife Helen, both fashion photographers, greeted them graciously, then immediately turned to the Milan fashion designer, obviously trying to work on a photography deal with him. Completing the retinue was a German couple, Inge and Kurt, both tall and blonde, her hair cropped in a typical bushy German style that made Claire think of a teddy bear.

  They were the last to arrive. When the introductions were complete, René ordered the captain to depart the harbor and they were underway.

  Claire had been concerned that her jewelry might be too much, making her feel out of place. As soon as she saw the assembled friends, she knew that wouldn't be a problem. They were the glitziest group of people she’d ever seen in one place. Two or three of the women displayed so much jewelry that they appeared to be caricatures of the rich and famous. By contrast, Monique's jewelry, dress, hair and makeup were understated and simple in an elegant way. Claire's appearance was about average for the group, save for the ornament tightly fastened through her at her navel. That gem caused quite a stir.

  Two of the women, Isabella and Inge, examined it closely, making Claire feel at first self-conscious, then smugly pleased as the two women expressed obvious delight at her bellybutton button. They didn't leave her alone until most of the guests made their way inside.