Prospero took a few careful paces back towards the jungle edge, all the while focused on the video remote in his hand. "Oui Miss Swift, when we get to the mansion later you will have makeup people..." And more besides, he thought. The afternoon's entertainment on the beach was merely the preliminary for more byzantine indulgences up at the Big House that evening. "But you look very beautiful right now, tres belle oui? Do not worry, Caliban thinks you are very pretty indeed!" Standing back now among the steel ring of lights and machines that fenced the beach, Prospero allowed himself a generous chuckle. "See how he pursues you!"
With the expert eye of a practiced pornographer Prospero covered Taylor with every possible angle, ensuring no delicious
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Even when at awkward play she moved with the grace and ease of a dancer. Her gym-toned dancer's physique was a joy to watch in action, her perky young firmness well on display. Through a dozen lenses he watched her long legs strain, back arch and lips part as she struggled in the sand. Idly he wondered what kind of lover she was - if she surrendered herself with passion as her persona would seem to suggest, or if her uncomfortable lankiness suggested an equal discomfort with intimacy. He made a mental note to arrange a catalogue of her sexual history when the time was right.
Caliban looked on in awe at the golden goddess moving on the sand before him. The sound of his name on her wet ruby lips was the sweetest thing he had heard in a long time. For a few moments he was enraptured, as if stunned by the fragrance of an especially powerful rose. Then he lopped grinning after Taylor, gurgling with laughter and finding himself curiously playful. His normal moods of lustful rape frenzy or head-splitting delirium had lifted and his cloudy mind rediscovered the simple joy of