The first night I ever laid eyes on her, I was exhausted. A weekend seminar workshop for my new job had brought me nearly five hours from home. I had driven the entire way in solitude, with the exception of my robotic GPA and a few radio stations that played scrambled rock oldies tunes. The music was almost as foreign to me as the dreary landscape that spun past my window like an old sepia movie reel from the 1950's.
The route took me from Columbus, Ohio to a sleepy West Virginia town. For the last hour or so, I was sure I'd driven deep into the hills of some remote village, all but lost to civilization. I was already dreading a boring two-day hotel seminar on the etiquette of call center employees, and as the wheels of my red Cooper span past clapboard houses, ramshackle trailers and dilapidated storefronts, I was erring on the side of gloom. Tiredness was ebbing itself into a forlorn feeling of sadness...even loneliness, perhaps.
The dashboard clock flashed neon at 8:41 when, at last, lights in the distance signaled to me that I was nearing a small city. Relief swept over me as I maneuvered my little Mini Cooper through an intersection. I noted a series of restaurants on the right side of the two-lane highway and what looked to be a historic shopping center on the left side. At least I was among some sort of civilization. One lone billboard nestled in the hillside beyond the road indicated that a Best Western Inn was only half a mile north.
Ignoring the rumble in my stomach at the sight of McDonald's and Taco Bell, I drove until the huge hotel sign gave way to a small drive where the hotel sat. Stiff from so many hours behind the wheel, I flipped off the irritating drone of the GPS. I laid my head back against the seat and let out a long sigh. Having survived the drive on coffee and a bag of potato chips, I was a little bit light-headed from hunger. I was also still reeling from the explosive argument I had with Monica that morning. Monica was my live-in girlfriend. We'd been together for five long years. Knowing how nervous it made me to travel to strange places alone, she had promised to make this trip with me. As a matter of fact, she'd been the one to encourage me to take the silly job in the first place.
Monica had strung me along with the promise straight up until the last minute. Just the previous night, she'd come home from her job as shift manager at Sam's Brewery (a silly little pub run by Sam Holton, the town's oldest eighty-one year old pervert) and woken me up at 2am to let me know that she could not accompnay me on this trip. She profusely claimed that all her employees were call-in's and she had no choice but to cover a double shift on the following day. This culminated in a two hour argument that nearly resulted in me asking her to pack her bags and leave. I'd fallen alseep pissed off with my back turned to her last night. When I woke that morning, she'd already left for her double shift. After a series of 'I'm sorry' texts from her that morning (which I ignored), I'd left for the road without speaking to her.
And, sitting in that hotel parking lot, trying to ready myself for two days alone in this seminar-in-the middle-of-nowhere, I argued with myself about whether or not I should let her know I'd arrived safely. I flipped my messages open; she hadn't sent one since 3pm that day. 'Guess you are already on your way' it read. And I was, but I'd never bothered to stop by the bar to see her. I hadn't answered her messages either. I noted the time again. She hadn't messaged me in almost six hours. No phone calls either. I mused that she couldn't be too worried about my well-being. The idea pissed me off enough that I figured I'd wait it out. If she wanted to talk to me, she'd call me.
As if temporarily invigored by this decision, I hastily pulled my two pieces of luggage from the back of the car, locked the doors and headed for the hotel. The front desk seemed abandoned so I shuffled in my purse for my ID and credit card while I waited for someone to appear. After what seemed like forever, a heavyset woman with tired eyes apologized for my wait and informed me that the receptionist would be with me soon.
I mentally chuckled, wandering how many people it took to run the front desk of a hotel that looked all but abandoned. I wouldn't be surprised if I were the only guest that night. I was still digging in my purse and mulling it over in my head when a soft voice said, 'How many nights?'
"Sorry, I'm half asleep," I said as I looked up.
I'm not sure what I was expecting, but the looks of her rendered me speechless for a few moments. Blonde hair, short and messy just how I preferred (I could almost see myself running my fingers through it). Her arms were covered in tattoos...all black and white, no color. Many of them had quotes and words etched around and through them. I longed to read them. I wanted to know what messages this girl wanted written across her body. She was petite like me, but slimmer. And she adorned some sort of graphic tee with a logo that I couldn't quite decipher.
"Hey there," that soft voice again. She'd been waiting for an answer and I'd been standing there dumbly gazing at her. I wondered for a moment if maybe I'd fallen asleep. Maybe that was it, I was asleep on my feet. I had to be, because this girl looked like something from my dreams.
"Uh," I stammered, embarrassed by my inability to stop oggling this girl. "One bed, two nights." She was smiling at me, probably totally noticing that I couldn't seem to peel my eyes away. "I'm here for the dumb seminar," I added.
She laughed then. A soft, silky laugh that emanated from somewhere deep inside. A genuine laugh, not the fake, nervous type that I'm prone to. "I totally feel that," she said as she reach my credit card back to me. "Anything work related always seems to suck."
She pushed some papers towards me and I quickly scribbled my signature on the dotted lines, not bothering to read the fine print. It wasn't like I was going to party or trash the room on my solitary two-night stay. Monica crossed my mind again and I grumbled in my head that it was her I could thank for this boring, lonesome, two-day stay.
Dream girl led me down a darkened corridor on the first floor, gesturing toward the pool area and the gym. "The gym opens from 9am till 11pm," she said. "But the pool is always open, just make sure you don't have an emergency, the only person on call is me." She giggled then, a sweet, innocent tinkle. "And I'm afraid I'm not much of a swimmer...but..if you need anything else call the front desk and ask for Andie."
With that she sauntered back toward the front desk. I stood there for a second, watching her. She looked good from the back too. She was thin but she had a little bit of curve where it mattered. Even though I wasn't sure why it would matter to me anyway. I shook my head as if to rid myself of the unsavory thoughts I was beginning to to have and made my way to the elevator.
My room was on the right side of the hallway, two doors down. The place was extremely void of sound. The only noise I heard came from an old air conditioner unit that sat in the window at the very end of the hall. It buzzed like a swarm of honey bees. The single light fixture in the center of the hallway ceiling intermittently flashed, as if at any moment it might go off and plunge me into complete darkness. "Reminds me of a scene out of a scary move," I shivered to myself as slipped the card key into the door of my room and let myself in.
The room actually ended up having double beds. I immediately unloaded my two suitcases on one bed in an attempt to find the granola bars I'd stuffed in there for my drive up. I absentmindedly ate one while I flipped my messages back open. Still nothing from Monica. Oh well, she'd done me wrong, not the other way around. I'd wait it out. She'd be the one to break this time, not me.
I turned the TV on and eventually fell asleep with my clothes on. The last word that rolled through my mind before I passed out was Andie.
***
I stood in the lady's restroom, the one right down the hall from the conference room. One boring day full of classes, note-taking and job training was over with. Appraising our hard work and our quick learning, the supervisor had let us out an hour early. I glanced at the silver watch on my wrist. It was 5pm. I'd kept my phone on silent all day, so I was hoping perhaps Monica had called or at least left me a message, considering for all she knew I'd run off the road and lay somewhere over a hill dead. Eager to hear something from her, I flipped through my messages. Nothing. I switched over to the call screen. Not one missed call. No voice mail.
Tears stung my eyes as I looked at myself in the mirror. I was a pretty girl. Bright blue eyes adorned with natural black lashes and my reading glasses. Thick brown hair with natural wave. I was 5'2 and my daily jog had gifted me thick thighs and a shapely ass. I was wearing tight, black dress pants and a cute low-cut pink sweater. My open-toed heels gave me a few more inches. I was satisfied with the woman that looked back at me. She blinked away the tears. Said, 'fuck Monica' under her breath.
Starving, I made my way to the display of junk food I'd seen shelved in the lobby just the night before. One entire wall contained a few coolers with a variety of drinks. I grabbed a couple bottles of Bicardi and made the snap decision that I'd order pizza and have it delivered. My guilty binge food was always beer and pizza, a habit that I'd began years ago as a college student.
I turned around and headed toward the elevator but stopped mid-step when I saw her. She stood behind the front desk again. She must work the evening shift, that made sense. And she must have sensed someone looking at her because she looked up from the computer screen she sat behind. A smile spread across her face, slow and warm, like gravy. I smiled back and waved at her. She held a hand up as if to say 'hello,' then went back to her work.
I was still smiling like an idiot as I punched the second floor button inside the elevator. My stomach growled. I was thirsty. I quickly popped the metal rim off a bottle of Strawberry Bicardi and turned it up. It was cold, sour, delicious. I gulped greedily, feeling a few drops slip from my bottom lip and trail down my chin. I wiped it away with the back of my hand, noting that I probably looked like one of those old perverted drunks that Monica had to wait on at the bar.
Monica. I scowled at the thought of her. No messages and no calls for over twenty-four hours now. This behavior was unlike her. I always thought myself clingy, but she was beyond clingy. The abandonment of her mother as a young girl seemed to have left her with some sort of attachment disorder. A whole day with no contact was totally out of character for her. Maybe she was done with me? What if, back home, she'd already packed her stuff and left? In a moment of weakness, I swiped my phone open and dialed her number. One ring, then straight to voicemail. I tried again, two rings this time, then straight to voicemail.
I was almost certain she was watching me call. I could almost see the smug satisfaction on her face as her screen lit up with my name and she swiped 'ignore.' For all I knew she was busy flirting it up with some Saturday night whore at the bar. Being the only butch at Sam's Brewery almost always meant that some random woman would vie for her attention, especially on weekends when the college crowd liked to gather around and let lose. Okay then, two could play that game. I turned my phone completely off and tossed it on the extra bed beside my luggage.
As if just remembering that I was thirsty, I chugged the rest of the bottle of wine I held in my hand. I figured I'd drink the other one with my pizza when it arrived. There was a brochure on the nightstand, along with a TV remote and a few other scattered sales papers, including restaurant coupons. I scanned the list of numbers for local eateries and found a Tom's Pizza. Using the old-fashioned push-button phone and feeling a little like I was trapped in a 90's sitcom, I called in an order for one large pepperoni pizza and then absentmindedly flipped the TV on.
I fluffed up some pillows and laid back, flipping through the guide in hopes that maybe the hotel had some pay per view. The wine had me feeling extremely relaxed, open-minded. I was feeling risky. I wandered what Andie would say if I called the front desk and asked her if she was hungry? I giggled to myself. I know something you can eat, Andie...
I was half awake, half asleep, and a little tipsy when a loud knock broke me from my reverie. Maybe that's Andie. But no, it was the pizza delivery boy, all scrawny and pimple-faced and too eager for the five dollar tip I gave to him. I flipped open the cardboard lid. My pizza looked delicious but there was way too much of it for just me. There was also another full bottle of unopened wine sitting on the dresser beside the TV. Oh what the hell...
***
"So, what type of job brings you out to the middle of nowhere for training?"
I still couldn't believe she was sitting in front of me. I'd already downed another glass of wine but just having here sit at the table across from me was sobering. I still couldn't believe she'd actually taken me up on my invitation to share the pizza. Maybe it was just dumb luck and she was hungry. When I'd called the front desk she said she was just getting ready to leave. Or maybe she was interested in me?
Not that it was an impossibility...even if I was her type, I was a total stranger.
"It's a job in telecommunications," I said and rolled my eyes. "I like talking and they are paying me to do it....so..."
She threw her head back and laughed. That laugh again. Thick and silky. It made me want to touch her throat, run my fingertips across her pale skin and wrap my arms around her neck...
We'd been talking for a while now. Andie was a twenty-six year old literature-major, a college drop-out who was still 'looking for herself.' Aren't we all? She said she lived alone and this job was how she currently paid her bills. As for relationships, her girlfriend of two years recently left her for her best friend. Ouch. Andie said she was starting over. Monica ran through my mind and I thought to myself, bitterly: perhaps I'm about to start over too.
"What about you," it was the third time she'd asked me. The first two times I'd managed to negate the question, to turn it around.
I downed my second glass of wine. How much had I drank so far? I was feeling loose-tongued and woozy. Maybe I'd make up some lies. But when I was drunk I always ended up telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
"I'm in a five year relationship that's on the rocks," I blurted out. "Even if she calls me back, I'm not sure I even want to talk to her."
"Ohh," Andies' eyes were deep. Deep ocean blue. The kind of eyes you could almost sink into. I wanted to sink inside her eyes. I wanted to live inside her mind. I wanted her to think of me.
She touched a tiny mole beside her lip, an unconscious reflex. Probably something she did when she was thinking deeply. She was probably self conscious about this perceived flaw. I wanted to kiss that mole.
"Look," I began.
"Oh, it's getting late," she murmured in that soft voice. She stood up. She almost looked frightened. Great, I'd already scared her away. She backed up a few steps.
"Look," I said. I stood up, grabbed for her wrist. She looked down at my hand on her wrist, and back up at me, as if surprised. "I'm not single, but trust me, when I look at you I want to be. I have two cats," I was stammering now. "I hoard books and I love poetry. I even write it sometimes." I sighed in resignation and let go of her wrist, "And I'm 41, but you will swear I'm not..."
Andie had made her way to the door now. I trailed behind her, feeling silly and desperate. Almost to the door, she turned around to look at me. For a long moment we stood there, held captive in each other's gaze.
She did look so young. Not childlike, but someone on the precipice of real adulthood. A late bloomer, maybe. Someone who'd just began to understand how difficult real life could be in all it's struggle and finery. And I was much older, although I didn't look like it. Thanks in part to great genes and in part to my abhorrence to sunlight and fake tanning, my skin looked every bit as youthful as hers.
She turned around. Her back was nearly to the door now. She could rest the back of her head against if it she wished to. And I was standing so close to her. I could almost feel her breath mingling with mine. And those eyes. Those deep-ocean-water eyes were gazing at me.
"No, your age isn't a problem," she blinked. Long black lashes against milk creamy skin. I bet she tasted sweet, like a vanilla malt. I wanted her to melt inside my mouth, pressed against my tongue, teasing the back of my throat...
As if in suspended animation, I said nothing. I was paralyzed by desire but fear held me still in it's grasp. She seemed fragile. One wrong move...
"If anything your age turns me on," it was almost a whisper, so soft that I questioned myself. Did she really say that?
Slowly, she bent toward me. Her lips grazed mine. Gently. Soft. Barely there. Her skin a soft butterfly flitter. No tongue, no desperate pressing. A simple little kiss.
"I'm sorry," she whispered over her shoulder as she pulled the door open and slipped between it.
Lithe and weightless, she was there, and then she was gone. I stood there for the longest moment, my hand pressed against my lips. My fingers searching, attempting to hold onto that kiss. I wanted to peel it from my lips, press it against my heartbeat, and carefully fold it between the clothes in my suitcase like a souvenir.
***
I stood mid-center of my hotel room, attempting to assess the situation. My grueling two-day seminar was finally over. I'd managed to gain the approval of my supervisor and he'd given me the green light on my remote customer service job. I needed only to return home, set my equipment up and begin earning $22 dollars an hour (a much larger salary that what the local library paid me, even after my previous five years of employment).
The whole thing was cause for celebration but instead of excitement I felt a bitter unease. I was going to miss my job as librarian assistant. I loved my local readers. Who would resume the weekly book discussions? I wasn't sure the new job would allot me the free hours I needed to continue volunteering for the various local literacy programs. I was still nervous about the new job...would I enjoy it? Aside from that, I still had to deal with Monica. She had called me twice today, when my phone was on silent, but had left no voicemails and no text messages either. I sensed only the feeling of impending doom in the outcome of whatever conversation we would finally be forced to have.
Yet, none of those concerns made me feel more unsettled as what I did about my situation with Andie. I had stopped by the front desk twice earlier but she hadn't been anywhere in sight. The time on my phone read 4:30. Check-out time loomed dangerously near. The last thing I wanted to be doing was sitting in the lobby, looking desperate and silly, all my hopes hanging on the hinge of whether she'd show back up tonight or not.
And what would I do if she did? Throw myself at her and profess my love? Nonsense, we'd just met. Seduce her? No, I wanted more than a one-night-stand. What did I want, then? I didn't know, maybe there wasn't a name for it. All I knew was that the moment I saw Andie, I just felt something inside me shift. I had to know her. I was insanely attracted to her but it was more than that. I held a genuine interest for her.
I was standing there, silently scolding myself for not asking Andie for her number the previous night. I reasoned with myself that if I just had her number, we could text and maybe later take it to the next level and talk sometime. But I didn't have her number. I didn't even have her last name. I only knew where she worked, and it was at a hotel five and half hours from my hometown.
"Oh well," I mumbled aloud to myself. "Maybe in another life."
***
My shoulders sagged with defeat as I pulled my luggage into the back of my red Mini Cooper. I'm sure I probably looked like a woman headed toward her doom as I climbed behind the wheel with my heavy shoulders.
I was not looking forward to the endless drive home. Nor was I excited about confronting what I was sure would be an impending break-up. Worst of all, I had no way of contacting Andie. And to wait around desperately hoping I'd see her again (especially after she had already shown me her answer) was something I was not prepared to do.
With a heavy sigh of resignation, I turned the key. I had just positioned the radio dial, one hand on the wheel and another reaching for the gear, when I saw her in my peripheral vision. In a blur of blonde hair and tattoos, she was at the passenger side window. In a frenzy, I flipped the power locks and she was beside me. Her hands caressing my face, her lips on mine.
"I'd just given up on you," I said quietly when she pulled away, my voice muffled by unshed tears.
"Don't ever do that," that sweet, shy smile of hers that melted me from the inside out.
"So what now," I asked, still unsure where we stood.
"Just drive," she smiled slyly. "I know a place."
***
"This is the perfect place," Andie said as she led me by the hand.
The isolated park was nestled within the heart of a forgotten urban neighborhood. In the soft light of a fading late-afternoon, Andie led us carefully down a once-maintained pathway, now barely visible beneath the encroaching vegetation
Leaves, having fallen from their branches long ago, now lay scattered across the ground, forming a carpet of crisp, brittle foliage. They made a perfect mattress when we laid across them.
"I couldn't let you go without seeing you first," she said as she slowly straddled me.
She grasped both my wrists and pinned my arms against the cool ground above my head. Her kiss, when it came, was a teasing thing. She flicked her tongue between my teeth, back and forth, too quick for me to grasp it.
She kissed my lips, trailed a path down the side of my neck. Coming to my breasts, she let go of my wrists and pulled my shirt over my head. One-handed, she reach back and unclasped my bra, the other hand already massaging the nipple of my left breast. Her hot breath was an amazing contrast to the cool air. I couldn't suppress a moan.
She flicked her tongue against my nipples until they were both rock solid, then trailed a path with her tongue all the way down to my pelvic area. Before I knew it, my pants were off. She was tugging my black thong with her teeth, pulling it slowly down my legs. When, at last, she dipped her tongue in my cunt, I was dripping wet. Just like my mouth, she teased my pussy lips too, flicking her tongue in and out.
"You taste so good," she paused to say, gazing above my tiny tuft of pubic hair to make eye contact.
She fucked me with her tongue for a long time, one hand massaging each breast while she gave her full mouth to my wet hole. All the while I moaned for her to move her mouth over my clit. At last, when I thought I could take no more, she made a trail of my wetness from my hole all the way up to the hood of my clit. Back and forth, she licked a path. I could feel my clit swelling. She had to feel it pulsating against her tongue.
"What do you want me to do," she raised her head and smiled at me.
"Fuck me," I yelled, thrusting my hips toward her.
"Fuck you how," she asked.
"Fuck my clit with your tongue, hard," I whimpered. "Please."
She dove back into my cunt with renewed fever, licking up and down. Then, stopping to flick her tongue across the most sensitive edge of my clitoris. Then she'd stop for a few seconds and look at me again.
"Please fuck me, let me cum," I begged her, thrusting my hips in the air, wiggling.
I wanted to be her whore, I wanted my clit touched. I didn't care to beg.
Again, she dove into my cunt with her wet mouth. I could see my juices making little glistening strings every time she pulled away. When I thought I couldn't take anymore, she pulled away again and looked at me, a wild glint in her eye.
"So you wanna, come, do you," she asked me with a wicked smile. Her face was covered in my wetness. My pussy quivered.
"Yes, please," I yelled, bucking my hips, my legs wide open.
"Okay," she grabbed my legs and pushed them even farther apart.
I watched as she rubbed my juices up and down my whole pussy for a few minutes, then she pulled her hand back and smacked my cunt hard. Once. Twice. Three times and my body convulsed in the strongest orgasm I had ever felt in my entire life.
I had never been pussy spanked, especially on the verge of an orgasm. Once I started to cum, she drew her hand back and smacked my clit three more times.
"You like that, slut," she yelled.
I writhed beneath her, my clit pulsating and pumping. I felt tingles shoot from my pussy lips all the way to my toes.
I bucked, tried to twist away, moaned and pleaded. All the while she had stripped down bare naked and mounted me again. Suddenly she was riding me, her clit pressed against mine, her wetness mixed with mine.
She rode me hard as orgasm after orgasm shot through my groin. Minutes passed but it felt like hours, I was suspended in one long orgasm. I grabbed her bony hips with my hands and held on while she rode me. Up and down, side ways, in circles, her breasts in my mouth, my breasts in her mouth.
I sucked her tongue, begged her for more. Called her my dirty little whore.
Finally, with our eyes locked in a deep gaze, communicating our orgasms in syllables undecipherable in any language, she came for me.
The setting sun cast a warm glow upon our bodies, rendering us shiny and opaque, as she climbed off me. I was spent, I could take no more.
She laid beside me and we held each other for a long moment, the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze providing a soothing serenade to our unspoken connection.
I was thinking of what would come next. What our plan of action would be, when I felt her trail her soft fingertips across my pussy again. She kissed my forehead, my lips, smiled at me and then drew her hand back and smacked my pussy hard.
At once my cunt, a traitor, convulsed into another long orgasm. My clit stung from the slap, my lips puckered to be penetrated. I could feel cum sliding between my pussy lips, puddling against my ass on the ground. Legs wide open, pussy quivering, I had no shame as she smacked my wet clit one more time and I began to cry.
She kissed my closed eyelids, "Did it hurt?"
"No," I smiled. "No, it was so good. So good..."
"So what's our plan of action?" She had began to get dressed, fumbling along the scattered leaves to find my wayward thongs.
The sun was setting now, and night would soon fall. I still had a long drive ahead of me but I knew now I wasn't going alone.
"You need to pack a bag," I said to her, grasping both her hands with my own. "I'm taking you home."
Our quiet smiles and soft, giddy laughter echoed through the quiet park as we made our way to my little red car, a testament to the happiness we knew we'd found.
No comments:
Post a Comment