Blonde Ambition – Chapter 3


After their wild night of passion in Bratislava, Tom had returned to London to fulfil his remaining tasks before the opening of the Olympics. Zofie had gone back to Prague to face the music. It seemed like a one-off. A moment of lust and love between two souls thrown together by a twist of fate. Reality had got in the way and now, Tom was attempting to make sense of it all, coming to terms with a life without Zofie. He accepted that as a mere mortal, he would never see his princess again. Six hundred miles away, Zofie had other ideas. Tom took the tube as he did every Saturday from his home into town to get his weekly shop. His friend Matt jumped on two stations down. “Hey Tom, you got any spare tickets for tonight?” he joked. “No mate, if I had you could have one with pleasure.” “Okay, cheers anyway. They’re like rocking horse shit. I spent six hours last month, refreshing the browser, but nothing.” “Ah that’s tough Matt. You left it a bit late though.” “I know. Oh well TV it is then!” “I’ve not seen you for a few weeks. You’ve not been down the gym?” “I know Tom, torn a tricep!” Matt rubbed his upper arm, indicating the healing muscle. “Ouch!” “By the way,” asked Matt. “How was your trip to Europe… where was it?” “Slovakia. Yes good thank you. Caught a salmon! This big!” Tom held his hands out, exaggerating his catch by fifty percent. “Wow! Well done!” “Thanks. How‘s what‘s her name? Becky wasn‘t it!” asked Tom, casually. “Ah, moved on Tom. Seeing a girl from the hairdressers now.” Matt made a blowing gesture with his lips, to show that she was a bit hot.” “Ah nice one mate!” said Tom politely. Matt’s serial dating nature wasn’t his style, but it wasn’t his place to judge. “How about you Tom, seeing anyone at the moment?” “No. Been too busy!” “Ah you want to get yourself out there mate! You didn’t pull any hot birds in Europe then. I hear these Czech birds are a bit tasty!” “Ummm… no,” lied Tom. He had consigned Zofie to the never to be repeated regions of his memory. He had lain awake for several nights after returning home and had spent a few hours sulking, when he wasn’t wrapped up in his work. Tom was a pragmatist though. He had compartmentalized Zofie now and was dealing with her memory. He just hoped that she would end up with someone who deserved her. After the Olympics Tom had decided to travel around the south of France and then go to Italy by train. Maybe he would meet someone out there, maybe he wouldn’t. As he was queuing at the till in Waitrose, Tom saw the edge of Cosmopolitan poking from behind a copy of Heat. The word ‘Princess’ caught his eye. He pulled it out and gasped when he saw Zofie’s photo on the front. Underneath her photo it read, ‘Zofie Vladislava, Europe’s most eligible Princess?’ He looked at the photo, those beautiful eyes and that figure. “Sir! Excuse me Sir!” “Oh… ummm yes sorry, I was just.” “Beautiful isn’t she?” said the cashier, smiling. “Yes. Very.” “I read it, she’s here for the Olympics apparently.” “The Olympics! What…” “As in The Olympics,” said the cashier, as if Tom had been on Mars. “Oh yeah, I know. Zofie’s in London?” “Princess Zofie to you!” said the girl, giggling. “Exactly,” said Tom, putting his card into the chip reader. “Do you want any cash back Sir?” “No… actually I’ll take this.” He reached for the magazine, giving it to the girl to scan. The cashier looked at him, obviously suppressing a giggle. Tom travelled back home in a bit of a daze. Suddenly, the memories still fresh as they were, were like a dagger pricking his heart. He ripped the shiny cover off the magazine, discarding the inserts and went to the main feature. “Oh Zofie. Why me?“ He read about how Zofie had gone from being Europe’s most in demand super model to a Royal Princess. The article went into the history of her family and the political strife, which had seen her father crowned head of state. Her personal wealth before the revolution had been estimated to be twenty million dollars. Various sources differed as to her current fortune but Tom stopped reading and left the magazine on the tube. Tom ran a shower when he got in and had two beers. He felt empty. She could be anywhere in London. She had probably forgotten about him already. He had a lump in his throat and the tears were forming in his eyes. It would have been easy to let go of his emotions and break down, but he was made of stronger stuff. He made up his mind there and then to quit London in a week and head for Europe. Some little vineyard maybe. Anywhere that he could lose himself and start over. *** …Four days later The Olympic stadium was almost full and Zofie had one of the best seats, level with the finishing line down the home straight. There was a tangible atmosphere as the crowd grew in anticipation of the evening’s events. The long jump was in full swing when she took her seat. She found the run up and massive effort of the athletes compelling entertainment. The second heat for the 400 meters was going on at the same time, as were the qualifying rounds for the javelin. It seemed wherever she looked, someone was jumping, running or throwing something. It was spectacular but there was a hum of anticipation for the 100 meters. The top contenders were warming up. Zofie looked through her little opera glasses to get a better look at the lovely toned athletes. She looked at the crowds, a sea of people enjoying the greatest show on Earth. She had been introduced to the Cambridge’s earlier and had spoken to Sir Escort Göztepe David and Victoria. In the next row was a Princess from Sweden and her own little entourage. Zofie looked through her glasses down to the rows below and then scanned around. A few rows down there was a politician she had seen on the TV the night before. She put the optics back on her lap a little disconsolately. “Is everything Okay?” asked Jirina. “Yes, I’m fine.” “Where are you?” she said to herself, again scouring the crowds through her tiny binoculars. “Who are you looking for?” asked Jirina, a little confused by the Princess’s apparent agitation. “It doesn’t matter, let’s enjoy the games!” Tom had been held up, and arrived at the stadium later than he had intended. There were a few spectators milling about, moving between some of the other venues in the Olympic Park but the stadium itself was already ninety percent full when he entered. He looked at his programme, reading some of the bios of the main medal contenders. From his seat the VIP box was out of view. But they, being higher could see further down. “Jirina, can I have the glasses for a minute?” Zofie scanned the seats again. She went along each row methodically. Then after a few seconds she paused. There was no mistaking that familiar untidy brown hair, shaved at the sides. The broad shoulders and the lean, mean biceps. “Tom!” “What is it? Who have you seen?” asked Jirina. “Oh… just someone I know, that’s all.” “You said Tom. Who‘s Tom?” “Oh just someone.” “Zofie, you look so happy. What’s the secret?!” “Yes. Oh Jirina! Can you take this message to the hospitality centre?” “What is it Zofie?” Zofie was fed up with Jirina calling her Your Highness and Madam and had insisted she addressed her by her first name, except in the presence of her Mother or Father. They had developed a closeness, which Zofie cherished and Jirina had too. In their own company the formalities could be dispensed with. “I’ll explain later Jirina. Just take this note.” It was unusual for the event to make public announcements, other than in emergencies, but were willing to bend the rules for a Princess. “Would Tom Garthson, please contact the hospitality box as soon as possible. That’s Tom Garthson to the hospitality box, please.” Tom was surprised to hear his name announced. He couldn’t imagine what would cause him to be called. He made his way up the steps, past the BBC commentary position and into the gallery, where all the famous athletes of past and present were depicted in row after row of photos. “You have a message for me? Tom Garthson.” “Ah yes Sir, it’s here.” The man handed Tom the piece of paper, which had been folded in half. It was headed with the words Královský Palác Pricezna ZM Vladislava. Tom’s eyes then went to the more meaningful words underneath. ‘Meet me by the swan statue. 10pm. Zofie.’ A shudder went down Tom’s spine. It was as if all his birthdays had come at once. Tom, steadied his nerves at the bar before returning to his seat. He wasn’t going to expect too much. It was ingenious of her to have contacted him in that way, but nothing surprised him any more when it came to Zofie He returned to his seat just as the 100 meter finalists were warming up. There was no Usain Bolt this time, but the British guy, Owen Spartak was favourite. He briefly cleared his mind, and then watched the big screen as the competitors were introduced to the crowd. The inspiration of Bolt had created a generation of young athletes, all with one ambition – to be the fastest man on the Planet. Tom had his fingers crossed for the Briton. It was his time, but they were coming under the starters orders and the competitors were ushered to their blocks. The British guy had drawn lane three, which was good. Everywhere went quiet, after a hushing sound came over the speakers. Tom watched, on the edge of his seat. ‘Let it be a clean start,’ he thought. Set – BANG! Tom watched, his hand over his mouth as they went first time, Spartak getting a great start. He was so quick out of the blocks and had a clear lead in the first fifteen meters. Then the American and Jamaican guys started to come back. Tom couldn’t bare to watch but couldn’t look away either. After 60 meters Owen Spartak was just ahead and appeared to be holding his ground. “Come on Owen!” cried Tom. It was going to be close – The Jamaican was catching him. The crowd were going mental. But Spartak had something in the tank, he had found an extra metre from somewhere and dipped on the line. “YES!!!” Tom stood up and cheered as the crowd erupted in a deafening roar of triumph! Tom looked up at the big screen as it focused on the electronic score board. He couldn’t believe his eyes, it was a new world record. The winner did a lap of honour as everyone applauded. There were a few other successes with a British one – two in the high jump and a bronze in the heptathlon. The stadium was still buzzing though after the main event. It was the blue ribbon event and it had gone to Great Britain. Tom made his way out of the stadium as the National Anthem faded away at the end of the medal ceremony. He was on tenterhooks and marched up and down the walkway for five minutes, looking at his watch. Then he saw his Princess approaching, flanked by Jirina and Boris. Tom’s eyes were drawn to Zofie’s body as she walked towards him. She was wearing a short, simple black dress; sleeveless but with a round neck. It was altogether Caddebostan escort a more modest outfit compared with the last one he had seen her in. Even so, Zofie’s amazing assets were hard to hide. “Good evening Tom. It’s some place you have here.” Tom wanted to take her hand and kiss it, like in the films, but he wasn’t sure if that would be the right thing to do. “Good evening Zofie. Well the buildings were already here, I only did a bit of organizing.” “Guys, this is Tom. It’s a very long story, but he is a friend and his credentials you may rely upon.” Tom was wondering what she was saying when Zofie did the introductions. “Tom meet Jirina, she is my right hand woman.” Tom smiled and nodded. “And this is Boris, my security. He’s not as bad as he looks.” Boris’s normal taciturn demeanour thawed and offered his hand. Tom accepted it and was impressed by the strength of his grip. Boris was someone who he would want to have on his side in a fight. “Does everyone like to go to a bar?” It is members only, but you will be okay Tom, I know the owner.” “Go for it!” said Tom. “It’s too early to go to bed. We can have a little cocktail. An hour maybe and then I will show you my room. It is amazing!” “Your room! Is it like the one in Bratislava?” “Well maybe not quite so big!” Any doubts he had had about Zofie simply wanting to say a brief hello were vanishing into thin air and he began to relax and felt he could enjoy the evening again. He wanted to give her a massive hug. He just wanted to hold her again, like he had done on that morning three weeks earlier. After a short walk they were met by a sleek black Mercedes, which had the windows blacked out. Tom sat in the back with Zofie and Jirina. “This is the girl who was so loyal when I was in Bratislava!” Jirina smiled, looking at Tom bashfully. “I think you made very much impression on Princess Zofie,” said Jirina. “Well with me, what you see is what you get.” “Yes with Zofie too, I think.” “Hey you two stop talking about me, as if I wasn’t here!” joked Zofie. “I’m sure glad you are here,” said Tom. “Ah Tom, you smooth talker you! So, have you been to Claridge’s before?” asked Zofie. “Ah you joking? Do you know how much their rooms cost?” “I think if you have to ask the price, you can’t afford it!” Jirina interjected. Tom nodded in acceptance of this observation and sat back to enjoy the ride while Zofie and Jirina chatted away in Czech. A few minutes later the car turned past Hyde Park and shortly into Mayfair. Tom had never been there other than on a Monopoly board and even then he couldn’t afford the property. “Tom, there might be quite a few Paparazzi at the club, there always is. Is that a problem?” “No! I’ll survive!” “Okay, even so, keep a few feet distance, unless you want to be splattered all over the magazines.” Two burly doorman greeted the little party at the entrance to the club. A bank of paparazzi had indeed gathered outside and there was a small ruck when they saw Zofie. “Damn, these guys are persistent,” said Zofie. A wall of flash guns illuminated them as they went inside. Tom found himself in a whole new universe. He couldn’t believe the people who were in there. He didn’t recognize everyone, but there was at least two premiership footballers and an A list actress. The music was loud and the strobe lights whizzed round in time with the bass. Even given the celebrity already present, heads were turned as Zofie entered. She had a presence, which transcended her beauty and her figure that made people stop and wonder. “Have you seen who’s at the end of the Bar?” said Tom, nudging the Princess and struggling to be heard above the music. “Welcome to my life!” “Wow Zofie!” Zofie laughed and drank her exorbitantly priced cocktail through a pink straw. “Hmmm… what is this?!” asked Tom. “It’s called a Daisy Chain! White Rum, palm wine and absinthe.” “Absinthe! This is ‘The Prodigy’. They’re a bit loud!” “I know!!!” shouted Zofie. Tom couldn’t stop smiling. Jirina and Boris were chatting together as Zofie looked into Tom’s eyes and gave his biceps a squeeze. “You give Boris a run for his money!” “Ah I don’t know. He’s built like a bull!” “You’re ripped Tom! You must live in the gym,” said Zofie, poking his abs. “I do my best! Healthy in mind and body, that’s my motto.” Tom looked round, surveying the crowd. There was laughing and dancing and all round good times. The Spot was the place to be. Anyone who was anyone wanted to be seen there and pay the ridiculous prices. Tom spotted a bottle which was in a case, screwed to the wall. “Hey Zofie! What‘s in there?” “In where?” “That bottle!” “It is a Louis fourteenth Champagne Cognac Tom! I will tell you later.” “Okay!” “Maybe we finish these and we can go back to the hotel. Would you like that?” suggested Zofie. “Whatever you say. Your wish is my command! It will be nice to talk properly!” At twenty seven years old, Tom’s clubbing days were largely behind him, although he had always been more of an outdoors kind of man anyway. He was pleased to be in the night air, which had cooled considerably. They made a dash for the car, which was waiting and got the better of the cameras. Tom was getting used to turning up at places where you were greeted at the door by people in uniforms when he was with Zofie and Claridge’s was no different. The red coated, silver buttoned porters opened Zofie’s door and she got out, bidding Jirina and Boris good night. “I Bağdat Caddesi escort bayan have presumed that you would be coming back for a night cap,” said Zofie, warmly as they stood in the hotel reception. “I had hoped you would, but I didn’t expect it.” “So you wouldn’t be being unfaithful to someone?” Tom shook his head. “Still single, I’m afraid. And you?” “Oh they’re trying to get me hitched with some Prince in Germany… but no, I’m still at liberty.” “Well, in that case, I would be pleased to help Your Highness with a cup of coffee.” “That’s my Tom,” she said and Tom followed her to the lift. “You look beautiful tonight,” said Tom. “Do you like this dress, I just got it yesterday in Harrods.” Tom smiled and stroked her bare arm. That alone was enough to set his pulse racing and awakened his desires. Zofie stroked Tom’s face and kissed him as the lift doors opened. Her Chanel perfume followed her as she stepped into the corridor and Tom slipped his hand around her waist. “Eh…calm down Tom, I can hear your breathing.” “You‘re just so…” “So what?” asked Zofie, tapping in the code on the door.” Tom followed her into the room and pushed her against the wall as she felt for the light switch. “So fucking sexy!” Tom was consumed with passion and kissed her ravenously. She responded in kind, her tongue finding his, and her lips yielding to his advances. She soon became equally breathless, and brushed the front of his trousers with the palm of her hand. Tom pushed her hand away, preferring to grind his hardness into her mound. His hands found the zip at the back of her dress as his lips concentrated on her neck, drawing gentle moans of appreciation from the Princess. “Tom… Tom my dress! Take it easy!” “I’m sorry baby!” “Believe me, you can’t afford this dress. Let me take it off and you can help yourself.” Tom began to unfasten his belt and undo his flies as he watched Zofie remove her dress. The temptation to rip it off had been there, but Zofie had caught him in time. Tom’s hard-on was raging and he couldn’t get his pants off quickly enough. Zofie slipped her dress off and hung it on the back of a chair. Her bra and panties were black like the dress and Tom stopped in his tracks. He had begun to undo his shirt but paused and kissed Zofie’s neck. He continued in stepping stones down to her shoulder, kissing her softly as his cock brushed Zofie’s belly. She brushed the shaft, causing him to take in a sudden breath. Zofie reached round to her back and unclipped her bra. Tom had now turned his attention to her bum, squeezing her cheeks as he continued to kiss her face and nibble her ears. His cock was waving around, brushing her belly and Zofie assisted him in removing his shirt, undoing the last few buttons. She guided him to the bed, which had an orange duvet and crisp white sheets. Tom cupped her breasts, kissing her on the lips, before his right hand slipped down her belly and then inside her panties. He murmured something as his fingers found her moist opening and then gasped with the sudden realization of just how wet she was. “Zofie, can I do something for you?” Zofie didn’t speak, but rolled her panties down and climbed on to the bed. The way Tom felt he could have made love to her there and then but he needed to satisfy an even deeper, more primeval desire. He knelt on the bed and shuffled closer to her. Her legs were as smooth as marble, but unlike the stone, warm to the touch. He took a cushion, raising her bum a little and kissed the inside of her thighs tenderly. Already he was aware of a sweet, sexy scent like honey and roses. He followed his nose, kissing her legs until he found her moist opening. Her labia were carefully shaved, so that only the pinkness of her pussy could be discerned. There was nothing to distract Tom from his task apart from her heavenly scent and the sweet nectar that was slowly oozing from there. He lapped his tongue tentatively into her hot pussy. The shiny velvet felt like nothing he had ever experienced. Her pussy was sheer joy and he moaned with the pure delight of giving her cunnilingus. Zofie mewed with pleasure and ran her fingers through his hair. Her moans were interspersed with shallow little breaths. She was giving herself to the sensations, biting her lip when he touched a certain spot. His nose and lips were brushing her clitoris more and more. He was teasing her with slow, upward strokes between her lips, nudging her clitoris each time. He was making her mew like a kitten and then she would moan uncontrollably as he went deeper. After rolling his tongue the length of her pussy and back again he rolled the tip over her clitoris, following with a circular motion. He caught her little button between his lips and sucked it gently. Zofie had never been treated like this before. For the first time in her life she had found someone who was putting her first. Zofie hands were holding Tom’s head, stroking his hair as he brought her closer and closer to orgasm. He sensed her arousal was building and was adapting his licking and nibbling to her moans, letting her guide him now. The speed of his tongue was increasing until he was thrashing her clitty back and forth and her moans were growing more and more intense. The tingling had become an irresistible yearning and now that had given way to wave after wave of pleasure, building up to the climax. Tom loved how her whimpers were mingled with unfamiliar words as she trembled to a fantastic orgasm. Tom looked up at Zofie with her love glazed across his lips. “Tom you’re good!” Tom smiled and licked his lips as Zofie rolled her index finger over her clitoris. “Why don’t you stand up Tom, let me return the favour a little.” His semi-hard erection resumed its full potential and Zofie sat up, until it was level with her eyes.

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