CHAPTER VI

THE SUN hung high in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the pristine beach that stretched out from the facility where the skating tournament was held. As Abigail made her way to the mid-day party, she couldn't help but appreciate the change of scenery, a respite from the ice rink and the mounting tensions that had surrounded it.

Abigail had opted for a light pink two-piece bikini, her blonde hair cascading in loose waves down her back. The change from her skating attire felt liberating, a chance to relax in the sunshine and enjoy the beauty of the beach.

The beach party was a celebration of sorts, a brief interlude from the competitive atmosphere of the tournament. Colorful beach towels were laid out, beach umbrellas provided shade, and a vibrant mix of music played from nearby speakers. The skaters, coaches, and organizers mingled in a relaxed atmosphere, taking a break from the ice.

As Abigail approached, the sound of laughter and conversation filled the air. The beach was alive with energy, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of disgust that everyone was acting so happy when just this morning one of their own had been brutally murdered in front of them all.

Abigail spotted Elise, who was sitting under an umbrella, looking a bit anxious, but still elegant in her beachwear. Elise waved her over, and Abigail joined her on the beach towel, settling down gracefully. The beach, with its warm sands and the gentle lapping of waves, offered a stark contrast to the ice rink.

Abigail looked around, noticing familiar faces and a few coaches mingling with the skaters.

She also spotted the curator, the man whose presence had brought added tension to the event. He stood near a refreshment stand, his gaze focused on the skaters. Abigail felt her sense of disgust further as she saw him ogling the women.

Elise's gaze followed Abigail's, and she whispered, "There he is. The curator."

Abigail nodded, her curiosity piqued. "He's the center of attention today, it seems."

Elise shared a concerned look with Abigail.

As the continued to watch the crowd, a tall, imposing woman approached them. She was elegantly dressed, with a stern expression on her face, and an aura of authority that demanded attention.

"Elise, dear, come with me," The woman said in a tone that brooked no argument. She reached out to grab Elise’s arm and began to pull her away from Abigail.

Elise cast a worried glance at Abigail before allowing herself to be led away. Her eyes held a mixture of apprehension and helplessness, as if she were accustomed to heeding her mother's every command.

Abigail watched them go, concerned for her friend. She couldn't help but wonder what awaited Elise on the other side of the beach party.

As they disappeared into the crowd, Abigail felt a sense of isolation and uncertainty. She back on her beach towel, her mind racing with questions and suspicions. The curator's role in all of this remained a focal point of concern, and she couldn't help but feel that the answers to the **** and the elusive group lay within the shadows of these connections.

As Abigail contemplated the events unfolding, a familiar figure appeared on the horizon. It was Jake, approaching with a smile that radiated warmth and familiarity. He was dressed casually in beach attire, his rugged charm contrasting with the relaxed atmosphere of the party.

"Abigail," he greeted her with a friendly nod, his gaze briefly sweeping over her. "You look absolutely stunning in that bikini."

Abigail blushed at the compliment, her heart racing just a bit faster. Jake's charisma had a way of igniting a fire within her, and she couldn't help but be captivated by his presence. "Thank you," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of shyness. "It's a nice change from the ice rink, isn't it?"

Jake settled onto the beach towel beside her, and their closeness sent a jolt of electricity through Abigail. The sun, the sea, and the shared tension of the situation seemed to amplify the magnetism between them.

"It's definitely a welcome change," Jake agreed, his eyes never leaving Abigail's. "I can't help but be distracted by more than just the beautiful beach."

Abigail felt her cheeks grow warmer as she met Jake's intense gaze. The sexual tension between them had continued to simmer, and now, in this idyllic setting, it seemed to crackle with undeniable intensity. She knew the situation was far from ideal, with mysteries to solve and dangers to face, but her desire for Jake was a **** that she couldn't deny.

As they basked in the sun's glow, the beach party, with all its complexities and secrets, faded into the background. In that moment, it was just the two of them, united by a shared attraction and a yearning that had lingered in the background since their first meeting.

Suddenly Jake’s expression sifted to a slightly more serious one.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Abigail gave him a small smile. “Terrible. But better.”

She looked over at the party.

“I don’t know how they can go on like this,” she said. “After what happened… it’s sick.”

Jake’s fingers entwined with hers. She looked down at their hands then back up into his eyes.

“I agree,” he said, sincerely.

As Abigail gazed into Jake's eyes, she couldn't help but be drawn deeper into the enigma of the man beside her. He was a captivating figure, and the more she got to know him, the more the mystery of who he truly was deepened.

She had known Jake for only a short time, but already she felt more connected to him than anyone she’d ever known. And yet, his entire life and past remained shrouded in secrecy. She’d met him as an investigator, on a mission to uncover the truth behind the murders and accidents. But she couldn’t help but wonder if he had agendas of his own.

As they sat on the beach, their hands clapsed, Abigail finally mustered the courage to broach the subject. "Jake, there's something I've been meaning to ask you. I can't help but feel that there's more to your story than what you've shared with me."

Jake's expression remained unreadable, a veil of guardedness that seemed to hint at untold truths. "Abigail, we all have our secrets. Sometimes they're best left in the shadows."

Abigail couldn't hide her frustration, her desire for clarity. "But Jake, I need to know if I can trust you completely. Who are you, really? What's your connection to all of this?"

Jake's gaze softened, and he brushed a lock of hair away from Abigail's face. "I wish I could tell you everything, Abigail, but there are things I can't reveal just yet. Trust me when I say that I'm here to uncover the truth and to protect those who are at risk."

Abigail's heart ached with the uncertainty, the knowledge that Jake held secrets that could shape the course of their investigation. She couldn't help but feel that the closer she got to the truth, the more elusive it became.

With a sigh, Jake pulled away from Abigail and stood up, casting a longing look toward the distant ocean. "Abigail, I need to go and attend to something, but I promise we'll continue this conversation. There are answers you deserve to know."

A sense of unease settled over Abigail. Jake's nature had always intrigued her, but now, in the midst of their budding connection and the mysteries of the skating world, his departure felt like a disheartening blow.

But Abigail nodded, her expression a mix of disappointment and understanding. "I'll hold you to that promise, Jake. I need to know the truth."

He gave her a reassuring smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of attraction and a hint of sadness. "You will, I promise."

With that, Jake turned and walked away, his figure receding into the beach party crowd. Abigail was left in the warm embrace of the sun, the sound of the waves, and the mysteries that seemed to deepen with every passing moment.

As Jake walked away, Abigail was left alone, once again on the beach towel, the sun's rays casting a warm glow on her skin. She couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability, her thoughts consumed by the complexities of the mysteries surrounding the skating tournament and her growing attraction to Jake.

Abigail's introspection was interrupted as she noticed the curator approaching. His eyes, an intense shade of blue, seemed to lock onto her with a fascination that couldn't be ignored. He was a handsome man, impeccably dressed, and his presence exuded an air of authority.

"Abigail, isn't it?" he inquired, his voice smooth and rich. "I've heard so much about you. You're a remarkable skater, and you look even more beautiful out of the rink."

Abigail offered a polite smile, suppressing her disgust by the curator's sudden interest in her.

"Yes, I'm Abigail, thanks for the compliment. It's a nice change to be on the beach, away from the ice."

The curator settled onto the beach towel next to Abigail, his eyes never leaving her face.

"It's an enchanting setting, isn't it? I'm intrigued by your performance on the ice, but I must admit, I'm even more fascinated by you as a person."

Abigail's pulse quickened as she felt the weight of his attention. She couldn't ignore the idea that the curator's interest in her held the potential key to more clues.

Their conversation continued, and the curator's charm was undeniable. He spoke of his role in the skating world and the challenges of overseeing the tournament. Abigail found herself drawn into his stories, her curiosity about his connection to the event growing, despite her dislike of him as a person.

As the curator's conversation with Abigail continued, he suddenly turned the topic toward the collection of trophies housed in his room within the facility.

With an inviting smile, he said, "Abigail, I have an exquisite collection of skating trophies, many of which are quite rare and valuable. I'd be delighted to show them to you if you're interested."

Abigail's heart sank as she recognized the invitation for what it was – an opportunity to be alone with the curator and potentially gather more information about the mysteries surrounding the tournament. While she was disgusted by his advances, she knew that playing along might provide her with valuable insights into the enigmatic group, their secrets, and the murders that had taken place.

With a gracious smile, she feigned interest. "That sounds fascinating. I'd love to see your collection, especially the rare trophies. What a unique opportunity!"

The curator's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and he extended a hand to help Abigail up. As they made their way toward the facility, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The situation was becoming increasingly complex, and she knew she needed to tread carefully to protect her own safety.

Once inside the facility, they walked down a well-lit corridor toward the curator's room. Abigail's heart raced, and she couldn't help but wonder what secrets his room might hold. She had to be cautious, as the curator was proving to be a key figure in the unfolding mysteries.

When they reached the curator's room, he opened the door with a flourish and ushered Abigail inside. The room was tastefully decorated, with shelves lined with trophies and memorabilia from past skating events. The curator explained the significance of each trophy, and Abigail listened attentively, all the while searching for any clues or hints that might reveal the secrets she was determined to uncover.

As they stood among the trophies, Abigail's mind raced. The curator's interest in her had allowed her access to his private space, a place that could potentially hold answers to the enigmatic group and their connection to the tournament. She had to seize this opportunity, even if it meant feigning interest and keeping her true intentions hidden.

As the curator continued to regale her with stories about the trophies, Abigail discreetly began to scan the room for any signs of hidden information or clues that might shed light on the mysteries she sought to unravel. It was a delicate dance, one that required her to play a dangerous game of intrigue and deception, all while concealing her true purpose. The curator's room was a potential treasure trove of information, and Abigail was determined to extract every ounce of knowledge it held, no matter the personal cost.

She glanced at the curator, uncertain of how exactly to get him turned on, if he wasn't already.

He smiled at her. "So? You like them?" he asked, gesturing at his trophies.

Abigail did her best to exude sexuality. "Oh, yes! They are gorgeous."

She could see in his eyes he was getting horny. She took a few steps towards him.

"You must be busy all the time," she said in a husky voice. "As the curator of the all the tournaments, you must barley get a moment to just relax!"

She laughed. "I would love to help you relax." Her hands went down to his crotch and squeezed it through his pants.

He moaned.

"So… what is your actual name?" she asked, as she stroked his cock through his pants.

He looked at her with lustful eyes. "My name is... uh..."

“I know what it is!" she exclaimed. "It's 'the curator'!" She giggled

He kept staring into her eyes.

She pulled down his zipper. His cock sprang out. She smiled and licked her lips.

“Mmmm, you have a beautiful cock." She started to stroke it slowly. "And you're so hard! Do you want me to suck it?"

"Yes, please!" he replied.

She lowered her head and started sucking on the tip.

“Mmmm, I love the way you taste!" she said, looking up at him. She wrapped her hand around his shaft and began to stroke him faster.

He moaned loudly.

"You like that? You like my hand wrapped around your big cock?" she asked.

"Oh yeah! I love it!" he said, closing his eyes and biting his lip.

She began to pump his cock faster.

He groaned.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked.

"No! Don't stop! Please don't stop!" he begged.

“I won't if you promise not to cum in my mouth."

"I'll do anything!" he said.

She stopped sucking and stood up.

"Anything?" she asked.

"Yes!" he answered.

She smiled and kissed him passionately.

"Good!" she said. “I want one of your absolutely beautiful trophies!"

She pointed at one above the backboard of his bed. It had the katana and ice skates emblem.

"This one maybe?" she asked.

"Yes! Take it!" he cried.

She kissed him again and picked up the trophy. She walked over to the window and threw it out into the courtyard.

"I'm going to make you cum now!" she said. "I want to watch you cum!"

She shoved him backwards and he fell onto his bed. She climbed on top of him, and ripped open his button up shirt, revealing his bare chest.

She slithered across him, mushing her boobs through her bikini top across his body. She turned herself around so her mouth was near his cock again.

“You know what,” she said. “I changed my mind. I want you to cum in my mouth.”

She began to suck once more.

He moaned. "Ahhhhh... oh god... oh god... mmmmm... yes... suck it... suck my cock... ohhh... ohhh... ohhhhh... fuck me... fuck me with your tongue... oh yeah..."

She sucked harder and faster.

"Oh shit... oh fuck... oh fuck... ohhh... ohhhhh... oh fuck... I'm gonna... I'm gonna... I'm gonna... AHHHHH!" he screamed.

She kept sucking his cock, until finally he came.

He shot loads of cum all over her face.

She opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out. Cum poured out of her mouth and landed on her tits.

She swallowed every last drop and then licked her fingers clean.

"Wow!" she said. “You really pack a load.”

She propped herself up and climbed off the bed. The curator lay on his back, panting to catch his breath. He stared up at the ceiling, as if in a daze, unsure of what exactly just happened.

Abigail wiggled her fingers at him. “This was fun, but I’ve got to get back to the party!”

She turned and sauntered out, leaving him lying there. She exited out of the facility and made her way around back, stopping underneath the window to the curator’s room.

There lay the trophy, still intact. She picked it up and dusted some of the dirt off.

“What secrets do you hold?” she wondered aloud.