"I want to buy a leopard skin coat," Christina muttered.

"My dear, sometimes I wonder about you! How can you think of fur coats in this kind of weather?"

Christina didn't answer but sank back onto the grass. Her pink-nippled breasts jostled slightly as she lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the bright sun. Once again, Schneider's cock throbbed and he felt his long thick penis straining against the restricting material of his Bermuda shorts.

"Christina," he ordered as his glance took in her naked body. "I want you to crawl over here. On your knees."

"No!" Christina laughed huskily.

"I want to see those big tits of yours bobbing as you crawl over to me."

"It's too hot," Christina protested.

"Shut your pretty mouth," Schneider growled with a note of sadistic humor in his voice, "and do as I say!"

Christina heaved a deep sigh and lifted herself slowly from the grass onto her knees, taking one last look at the sun as if she were about to set out on a long journey. She had been lying lazily in the bright sun for about an hour, and her lush body was covered with a light gloss of perspiration that deepened her Mediterranean tan. A delicate trail of moisture trickled down her flat browned belly to the curling black wisps of her pubic mound. She smiled and then began hobbling across the grass to Schneider, her sun-bronzed hips and full-swaying breasts presenting an obscenely sensual picture to him. She reached the edge of the stone patio where Schneider sat, looking at him with an amused expression.

"What about the Americans?" she asked, and gracefully rolled her hips back onto the grass.

"Oh, yes," Schneider sighed, suddenly brought back to business. "He is the son of a well-known congressman. When he returns to his country from his Mallorcan honeymoon, his luggage won't even be touched by the customs people."

Schneider's thoughts returned to the young American couple whom he and Christina had met in Palma yesterday.