Mandy was delighted to peel off from Jonquil and Alvin and get Frank to herself. She couldn't believe her luck in finding herself heading off into the hills with such a chunk of hunk and showed a lot of close personal interest in studying the guidebook map that Frank showed her.

Of course for all she knew or cared it could have been a map of the Moscow subway, but if it was an excuse to get close to Frank that was good enough for her.

"You don't mind going a bit off the beaten track, do you?" Frank asked. "Only I want to shoot these commercials in some kind of an unusual background -- somewhere away from the usual tourist places."

"Oh, that's fine, I'd like a chance to see the real Mexico while I'm down here."

He grinned: "OK, as long as you know it might turn out to be a bumpy ride."

And Mandy smiled right back: "No problem, I promise to hang on tight."

It looked like being a fast developing relationship.

As it turned out the ride wasn't too bad at all. Frank's air conditioned Mercedes had no problems smoothing out the bendy but blacktopped little road which ran along the coast. It was when they turned into the hills that the road started deteriorating, potholes beginning to appear with monotonous regularity. They came to a village, which Frank approached slowly.

"Everywhere in Mexico where there's houses they have things called lopes across the road, coming and going. They're supposed to speed bumps but speed hills would be a better description. Hit them at sixty and you'll probably roll."

They stopped at a shop in the village to get a couple of chilled cokes, and then drove on into the rock littered hills. The potholes became larger and the road narrowed, then suddenly turned into a dirt track. Up until then they'd been having an easy going conversation, but Frank fell silent as he handled the more demanding driving.

"Almost there, Mandy. Only another half mile."

She could already see the houses of the village up ahead -- well, cottages would be a better description. The old stone walls were still standing but several of the roofs had fallen in and there was a lot of tropical vegetation growing wild where the local gardens must have once been.

"What happened here? Why did everybody leave?"

"The story goes that there used to be a well here but one day it ran dry and nobody ever found out why. Whatever, it stayed dry, so that meant the end of the village. The people had to up and leave."

"Oh. I guess us city slickers are lucky we don't have to worry about things like that, hey?"

Frank chuckled: "I think we all have worries, and we never know where the next one is coming from. Let's check the place out."

The sun was hot outside but the air was cooler and drier than it was down on the coast. There was also a hint of fragrance in the breeze which Mandy smelt with pleasure. This seemed a nice romantic place to spend an afternoon with her kind of guy. A quiet, remote place.

"OK", Frank said. "So let's imagine a scene here, and let's pretend you're the female actor. You're looking over this village, and you've got this old map you're studying, only it's displayed on a laptop that you're using on the hood of your shiny new jeep. You're dressed like a typical rich tourist, pure white shirt, washed jeans, handcrafted leather boots, a fancy straw hat with a ribbon around it. And you take off your hat for a minute and dab away the sweat from around your eyes with the end of your silk scarf. Then you pick up your tube of Sun Goddess cream and spread some over your nose and cheeks. Then you look across the hood and on the other side we see this big, muscular guy, dressed up in Indiana Jones gear, and it looks like he's been sleeping in the same clothes for weeks -- a rough tough character.

"So, you hold up a squirt of cream on the tips of your fingers and you smile at the guy, as though you're offering to spread some of the cream on him. He smiles back and slowly unbuttons his shirt all the way down the front -- like this."

Mandy took a deep breath as Frank opened his shirt to display the kind of body that a girl could have dreams about -- wet dreams. He kept on talking.

"Then Indiana moves up close and personal to you and you start to rub the cream onto his chest. You want to try doing that for me, please, Mandy?"

Getting your hands on somebody like Frank wasn't a chance that came a girl's way very often -- about every third presidency, maybe. And this time around Mandy didn't need to hear from Florida before she decided to become a running mate -- running towards him, that is, a decision made on a primary and primitive vote.

Mandy swirled her fingertips gently over his tanned skin: "Is this the sort of thing you've got in mind?"

"That's exactly right," Frank encouraged her. "Now maybe you can crank the temperature up a little by leaning forward and kissing my chest?"

"Are you sure you won't bite me?"

She felt his ribs move as he laughed. "No biting: but I won't make any promises about anything else, OK?"

"OK."

She leaned forward, put out her tongue and ran it lightly over his left nipple. It was a kind of subtle clue to Frank that she was in the mood to fuck him like she'd never fucked a man before.

"Now that's good, that's just the kind of sexy behavior I need on camera," he said, his voice becoming even deeper. "Maybe you could keep going down that track for a while. It feels pretty right -- artistically speaking, of course."

"Yeah -- artistically speaking," Mandy agreed.

Her fingers and her tongue drifted over and around his rock hard muscles as she tasted his sweat and smelt his maleness. She wondered if she was suddenly going to wake up and find herself staring at her computer screen in the office. But, gee, it'd be hard to explain this little fantasy to the other girls around the water cooler. Because if this guy was something she had dreamed up she needed a real man even worse than she'd thought. Which was maybe why she was undoing his belt without even being asked.

"You're doing well, Mandy, very well. What happens now is that the girl takes the guide's hand and goes into that hut there with him. As they're walking over we get a shot of the laptop screen and we see these two flashing red symbols moving across the screen, a ying and a yang moving side by side into an outline of one of the huts on the map. OK, you want to do that?"

Mandy didn't say anything, she just stood up, grabbed his shirt and pulled on it with all her strength, as if she was a doorman getting set to toss a trouble making customer out into the street. Frank laughed and let her slender arm direct his huge body whichever way she wanted. Which was into the cool shade of the nearest building. And into the biggest shock of Mandy's life.

"Hi, folks!" The low was high pitched, almost squeaky, and it came from a little fat Mexican man who was standing in patch of sunlight coming through the broken roof. Mandy stopped dead and squealed in surprise.

"It's OK, he's a friend of mine," Frank said casually. "Hi, Osvaldo."

His hands reached down, undid the top of Mandy's jeans and jerked them down around her knees, panties and all. She squealed again, louder, the Mexican moved into the darkness and then a bright flash flooded the inside of the hut with diamond sharp light. It was a camera flash and Mandy had been photographed in a totally humiliating situation.

"Frank!"

"It's OK, cutie, we won't keep that one." He knelt down behind her and hauled the jeans down around her ankles. "Of course the TV viewers won't see what goes on in here but they'll see the ying and yang symbols merge together on the computer screen. Then red rings start shooting out from the place like ripples on water, and words start flashing: 'ANCIENT TEMPLE SITE: CAUTION -- FERTILITY RITES MAY COMMENCE WITHOUT WARNING'. Neat, hey?"

"To hell with your computer, what's this guy doing here with a camera?"

Mandy bent over to try and pull up her jeans and Frank's teeth nipped her sharply on the butt. She jerked upright again, her hands grabbing at her cheeks and the camera flash went off again. She could hardly see a thing now with her dazzled eyes but somewhere in the darkness the fat Mexican was sniggering with amusement at the spectacle she was making of herself.

"Oh, that's Osvaldo. He's one of our local photographers. His motorcycle is parked around here somewhere. I told him I was bringing a sexy girl up here and she'd want some snapshots to take back home from her holiday."

"No way!"

Frank shrugged and began stripping off: "Take a look at the goods on offer before you decide to put them back on the shelf. And remember that this is the only chance you're going to get to show us how good a model you can be in front of a camera."

"But . . ."

The words of protest on her lips remained unsaid, to be replaced by a gasp as Frank stepped forward underneath a hole in the roof, appearing in the shining rays as suddenly as if he'd been beamed down from some alien spaceship. Or perhaps like some ancient Greek God descending from Olympus. His body was as perfectly proportioned as a classical statute, except perhaps in one physical detail which might not be a classic one but certainly looked like it belonged in some kind of Olympic event. As an advertising man Frank certainly knew the rules of a game: before you can talk to a donkey you have to get its attention, but if you want to grab a woman's attention it sure helps to be hung like a donkey.

Mandy took a long, deep breath: "Fertility rites, hey?"

"Yep."

She slid her top down around her waist: "Oh well, I wouldn't like to upset any of the local gods by being rude. I think I'll just have a quick worship while I'm here."

She took another deep breath, moved closer to him, knelt down, then touched the underside of his huge cock with the tip of her tongue. The camera flash went off again and Frank held her hand reassuringly as she blinked.

"Don't let Osvaldo throw you off," he said. "You just keep on doing what you're doing and look as sexy as you can for the pictures. I'd appreciate that because I'm sure going to treasure these snaps."

Mandy nodded, then realized she was kneeling on a rug which the Mex guy must have put down. They'd been so sure about getting her down on her knees the rug had been waiting for her already. Not that she hadn't come all the way out here without expecting to make it big time with Frank, but not in a set of porn prints. Oh well, as long as he kept them in a drawer with the pictures of all the other woman he must have had, that was no problem. And it would be interesting to see how they turned out: maybe she would keep a set herself as souvenirs.

END OF PART ONE

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