Senior Year Box Set

The first estate sale agent showed up after I’d devoured most of the pastries. They were too good to share, so I didn’t put them out.

I walked her through the house and down into the basement. Once we were done, we sat down to talk about what she would do for me.

“I hate to tell you this, but most of this is junk. The rest is old and won’t bring much. We would be willing to clean the place out, and what we made on the few items we can sell, use that to pay for our time. That way, you wouldn’t have to deal with all this,” she suggested.

“Okay. Let me think about it and get back to you,” I said.

“You said they’re tearing the building down?”

“Yeah.”

“I can have a deconstruction contractor come in and see if anything is salvageable. You might make a few bucks doing that because there is a big market in renovating old homes like this,” she suggested.

“Okay. I’ll let you know later today,” I said and walked her out.

I quickly learned that the first lady was a scam artist. The second gal pointed out the different pieces of furniture and explained which designer had made each of them. While most would only bring a few hundred euros in their current condition, she suggested I have them reupholstered and cleaned up. She said if it was done right, they would fetch in the thousands of euros. Whoever had lived here before had had excellent taste.

She got really excited when she saw all the old clothes in the basement. They were vintage, high-end clothes made by well-known designers. She said I should auction them off instead of trying to have her sell them.

I mentioned what the last lady had said about getting someone in to reclaim the architectural components before the building got demolished. She gave me the name of someone she trusted.

We agreed we would have the furniture sent to her friend who did restorations. He would know what we could and couldn’t do to affect the value. She would then sell them for me.

The third guy wanted to just hold an attic sale, what we would call a garage sale. I was glad I’d met the second lady.

The deconstruction contractor wanted everything and offered me money on the spot. I had no idea if it was a good deal or not, but it was enough to pay for this vacation. I accepted and warned him that we closed in two weeks. He would need to coordinate with my real estate broker and estate sale agent as they needed time to establish the closing date and get the place cleaned out.

With that out of the way, I called a car to take me to the heliport and begin my trip to Greece.

◊◊◊

Chapter 8 – Ivanna … Tuesday March 28

Taking care of the condo in Monaco had eaten up most of the day. I’d arrived late in Mykonos only to find a party going on around the pool. One of the three units housed women who’d been shipped in by a matchmaking service. Half the girls were from the Philippines, and the other half were Russian. They were all looking for rich husbands.

The service had arranged for several men to fly in from different parts of the world to meet the girls. The men were all older—in some cases, much older—than the hot young women they were there to meet. From the looks of them, the men desperately needed this service to find a life mate. I saw the logic in it. If they had money, why not have a trophy wife?

I’d gone out to see if any of my travel-mates were around. It looked like they’d all found something else to do. I planned to turn around and go back inside my condo when a striking Russian girl approached me. Five minutes later, we were in my bed, having wild monkey sex.

I woke up this morning to the sight of her magnificent derrière. Dawn softly glowed through the window, and I could just make out all the little hairs on her behind, glistening in the light. She looked like a work of art. I reached over to my bag, pulled out my camera, and snapped a picture, which woke her up. She gave me a dirty look until I showed her the image.

“Yes. Very nice,” she said and pulled me down for a kiss.

She remembered where I stored my box of condoms and pulled one out, which I quickly put on.

“I want to be on top this time.”

Who was I to argue? The girl grabbed Mr. Happy and sank down on him.

“Oh, God, you feel so good,” she howled as she crushed her hips against mine, riding me like a champ.

“Yes,” I sighed. “You do, too …”

“David,” she panted my name as she bounced on top of me.

Her long auburn hair hung down over her bouncy breasts that jiggled in the best possible ways as she pushed harder. I let out a low grunt as I took it all in. She’d been an easy catch, maybe too easy, which was something I didn’t usually go for. Did I mention she was hot? That made up for not getting to know her before we jumped into bed. Maybe this hooking-up business was everything Lexi made it out to be.

She had a lot to offer, like her picture-perfect butt or those flawless boobs. How nipples could rest so high up on a young woman’s breasts was one of those delightful mysteries of life.