New Dawning International Bookfair
presents
An Erotic Romance Novel
by
Dee Dawning
Getting Naked at the Hilton
Copyright © Dee Dawning 2008
Smashwords Edition
Edition 2
Dedicated to lovers, young and old, of all races everywhere
.
Chapter One – They Meet
“They were nude but they were not ashamed." Furthermore, because God created it, "The human body can remain nude and uncovered and preserve its splendor and its beauty."
Pope John Paul II, from Genesis
Stood Up? No fucking way. Once again he scrutinized his watch, as if the minute hand would go backward instead of forward and he would not yet have been stood up. Eleven-forty-five is not eleven o’clock. Where the fuck is she? Once more, his eyes roamed the bar searching for Carol’s curvy form heading his way.
Could she have had car trouble? No, she’d have called. His jaw tensed in denial, though the inescapable fact remained, he had been stood up. Too bad. He really dug Carol—her casual attire yet formal appearance, with nary a hair of her highlighted page boy out of place, not to mention her sexy blue eyes and friendly smile.
He tapped his fingers impatiently on the bar and glanced around again. God is paying you back for all those wicked, sinful one night stands, His Reverend Pat Robertson whispered in his ear.
He felt a flush of annoyance color his face “Fuck you Reverend Robertson! And fuck the horse you rode in on. What’s that Pat? You’re can’t ride a horse. Well… then fuck Carol too!”
A smoky feminine voice came from his left, “You sound rather perturbed. Do you know the Reverend Robertson personally?”
Damn! He grimaced and looked down at the scarred wood of the bartop. I must’ve said that aloud.
Turning his head slowly, He expected to see a Brunhilde type, but was pleasantly stunned. A long-haired brunette knockout with startling grey-blue eyes smiled at him. Carol, who?
As she scrutinized him, amusement gleamed from her mesmerizing eyes. Her beautiful face was cocked and her head rested on her fist, her lips forming a lopsided smile. He was flummoxed.
His eyes drifted lower, taking in dark tanned skin contrasting sharply with the orange and yellow print halter and skirt that left her midriff exposed to his examination. A diamond and pearl pin adorned her navel. Her bare thighs and calves were lithe, but shapely with beige canvas two-inch wedge sandals on her narrow feet. Gotta love Las Vegas in July! A hundred degrees at midnight and beautiful near naked women on the prowl.
* * * *
Her lips twitched with ill concealed humor at the handsome man’s faux pas. She couldn’t hold back against her disloyal mouth as she felt it form the dreaded lopsided grin.
Earlier, she noticed him as she took the open captain’s chair next to him. She snuck a peek at his reflection in the mirrored back bar, but he seemed engrossed with some inner conflict. It was reasonably obvious he’d been waiting for someone. Glancing from his watch to the entrance and back again, in frustration he finally vented his grievances, albeit under his breath. Something about fucking Pat Robertson, his horse and someone named Carol. Having piqued her curiosity, she turned toward him and inquired if he knew the reverend.
His body slowly angled in her direction. Then his face turned, eyes unmoving, on hers. His intense blue eyes seemed to glow with appreciation, scanning down and then up her figure, she suddenly realized how attracted she was to him. Close cropped sandy hair, chiseled cheekbones and strong chin gave the impression of rugged strength complementing the wide shoulders and narrow hips of his strong athletic build.
“Hi. My name is Rachel Cooke.” She offered her hand. When he took it, she continued, “You didn’t answer my question. Do you know the Reverend Robertson personally?”
He didn’t release her hand, but he did answer, “Scott Rader. Actually, no…well yes. Not the Reverend Robertson you are thinking of. I mean…I know who he is all right. I’ve seen him on TV. Who hasn’t? The Reverend Robertson I was referring to is my Reverend Robertson.”
The slight inflection on ‘my’ told her there was something interesting here. “Really? Your own personal Reverend Robertson? You must tell me more.”
He cast a sheepish grin. “This is embarrassing. Are you sure you want to hear about my Rev?”
“Absolutely, I’d love to hear all about him.” She leaned forward in her chair to listen carefully, but Scott’s furtive glances kept distracting her, making it difficult to concentrate on his words. Those blue, blue eyes. And those soft, manly lips. She couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like.
He picked through the bowl of pretzels in front of him. “I guess the reverend is my personal imp. When I’m about to make a questionable decision he appears on my shoulder and whispers in my ear.”
Scott cast a longing gaze at her. “You know,” he paused, “you have two of the largest, most beautiful…” His torrid gaze traveled down her frame and back up again, fondling her body like a slow, heated caress. “eyes!” He grinned like a pony player, who’d just the hit the trifecta with that proclamation.
Courtesy of her mother’s dark ancestry, her complexion covered the heated rush raging through her skin. “Thank you.” God, he’s hot! And he knows exactly what to say… “You’re sweet. However, you’re not going to change the subject that easily.”
He slid his chair closer to mine until the sides were touching and he leaned over to whisper, mere inches from her ear, “I’ll tell you all about the Rev and me, but let’s go somewhere fun to do it.”
His cologne fired along her senses with its masculine balm causing her pulse to jump and flutter. Is it hot in here? Her rising temperature made her want to fan herself to cool off. She needed to fan under her skirt to quench the fire there, too.
“Like where?” She responded quickly. So much for propriety.
“Do you like to dance? I know this great place called Pussy Cats. How about it?” His mouth said dance club, but his eyes seemed to convey king sized bed. Or…could that be what she wanted. No! Shame on me for having wicked thoughts. I refuse to jump in his bed on the first night.
Not about to let her restrained lust show, she asked, “How are you ever going to tell me about your Rev in a noisy club?” She suppressed a snicker.
He never missed a beat, “We can talk about it when the band takes a break and while they’re playing, I could whisper in your ear. If that doesn’t work, we could go someplace else.”
This guy is smooth.
Remembering the fire he stoked when last he whispered in her ear, She replied breathily, “I can hardly wait.”
* * * *
Located on the Strip north of Circus Circus Hotel, Pussy Cats was the in club of the moment. Its ultra modern stainless steel motif, it catered to the beautiful people of Vegas and adventurous, well-heeled tourists. The drinks were expensive, the music loud, the mood seductively dark and the women… As always, the women were hot! But none hotter that night than Rachel Cooke.
Gyrating with the best of them to the sexy rhythm driven beat, Rachel in her scanty attire with her lissome, sexy frame was a show within a show on Pussy Cat’s dance floor. Drinking in her marvelous undulating form, visions of her performing those sexy dance moves with his cock buried in her, teased his brain. Goddamn! Can she move. I’ll bet she’s a fucking nympho in the sack.
The only thing preventing his libido from tenting his pants was the energy he expended keeping up with Rachel's wild moves. Out of breath and near passing out from exertion, the ending of the third heart pumping, high tempo, dance number was going to be the death of him. And then, salvation. Taking pity on the sweaty dancers, the band played a slow song.
A frenzy of excitement settled in the pit of his stomach as he trapped the hot little minx in his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled in close. Damn, she felt good. A few inches below him in height, everything seemed to line up for erotic advantage.
Cradled against his thighs, her breasts against his chest, the music created a sensual rhythm that no longer moved their feet but swayed their bodies tighter together. His erection surged between them when she nestled in even closer. His hands slid down and grasped her shapely ass, feeling the seams of her skimpy panties through the flimsy fabric of her mini-skirt. She exuded sex—raw sex. He was hard as a hammer and with the subtlest of movements, pressed it into her abdomen to feel her response. She pressed back. Oh, yeah!
Feminine hands slid from his back and moved around to his chest. For a few seconds they rested on his upper chest and she snuggled her pretty face into the crook of her neck, but as he continued to press his hard groin into her, and squeeze her buttocks, her right hand moved up behind his neck. Long graceful fingers pulled his face toward her upturned lips and as their mouths melded, he nibbled on her warm, pliant lips. A charge of voltage ran clear to his toes as her tongue parted his lips and brushed across his teeth. She was the aggressor and he the all too willing recipient. A groan escaped him as her greedy tongue darted in and she responded to his grinding hardness by matching his thrusts and pushing her hot pussy into his rigid cock. His body shook, boiling up and on the verge of losing control. Carol never affected him this way. Damn, I want what she’s offering! This pretty piece of flesh must be mine tonight!
* * * *
Scott got Rachel going. Everything was playful and fun, then a favorite of hers, a slow romantic song came on and his arms encircled her, pulling her body firmly against his. With her breasts crushed tightly against his massive chest and his clever hands fondling her ass, her nipples swelled and grew sensitive. He was hard and letting her know it, pushing the bulge in his pants into her abdomen. A sensual cloud passed over her and she reacted, not as intended, but instinctively, pulling his face towards hers. Her tongue slid between his lips and explored his mouth while her wet, hot, hungry sex pushed into his compelling erection. Lost in an erotic haze of lips, tongues and twisting, slick friction…she suddenly noticed quiet.
Breaking the kiss, she glanced around. The music had stopped and the band left the stage on a break. The dance floor was empty except for one other couple who were getting it on in front of everyone. Is that how we look?
Feeling a flush, Rachel pulled away. Still holding his hand, she gave him a sideways glance before leading him back to their table.
Hot from the dancing and their ill-advised interlude on the dance floor, she greedily finished her drink. Scott guzzled the remainder of his drink, too.
She thought Scott would order more drinks but instead, he leaned over. The scent of his spicy cologne and the thrill of his hot breath on her ear as he whispered into it made her gasp with anticipation. “Would you like to go somewhere more private?”
As if doused with cold water, she pulled away and stared at his expression. There was seduction in his hungry eyes. Who could blame him? She’d initiated the kiss, gotten wound up and responded to him lustily. The kiss was to die for. The suspicion that he would be great at other things too, had her clenching her thighs together.
She was all in favor of a dreamy, hot, sweaty roll in the sack, swapping body fluids with a handsome man. And Scott was certainly handsome enough that she weighed it. His lean physique riding atop her dark tan frame was something she’d even pictured, but this was just too quick and unexpected for her.
Coquettishly, she asked, “Private? Where did you have mind?”
Without hesitation. “We could go to my humble abode.”
She sensed her eyebrows rise. Though her body was more than willing, her mind took charge. “Do I strike you as being particularly easy? Hey, Rev. Where are you? Your boy is having naughty thoughts.”
It was dark, but she could still see the light skinned Scott blush red. “No, Rachel, you misunderstand my intentions. I meant just to talk, so we could get to know each other.”
She blinked at him in disbelief. Right! Sarcasm colored her thoughts. “You must be joking! Let me tell you. I just read a book where the main character said, ‘Can you think of a better way to get to know him?’ after telling her friends, she’d sucked and fucked her newfound beau. Is that your idea of how we should get to know each other?”
“No, of course not. I just want to get to know you, the lively, articulate, spontaneous, intelligent person you seem to be. In fact, if you were sitting here naked, right in front of me, I wouldn’t lay a hand on you. We would just talk. I swear.” Folding his arms together as if making a point, he gave a brisk—so there—nod.
Unable to keep a smirk from forming on her lips, She challenged him, “Is that right? You were doing fine until that last sentence. Tell you what…we’ll go somewhere private all right, but not on your home turf with candles and sensual music.” She flicked her wrist, as if to sweep away a bad idea, “which I’m sure you have at your pussy pad, to set the mood for seduction.”
* * * *
Why was he having trouble figuring this girl out? He said all the right things. Rachel wanted to screw. The episode on the floor showed him that. Yet, she resisted. Should I force the issue? Naw, that might piss her off and I don’t want to do that. There is just something about her that really appeals to me. What do I want?
His phone buzzed like an angry bee at his hip.
“Excuse me a minute. I have a call,” He apologized to Rachel before hitting the green button, “Hello?”
“Hi Scott. It’s Carol. I wanted to let—”
He stood up placed a hand over the mic and said, “I’m sorry, I have to take this call.” before stepping a few paces away.
Covering his other ear, he spoke as softly as possible in Pussy Cats, “Carol where are you? I waited an hour for you, even tried to call you and there was no answer.”
She sounded frantic, “That’s what I started to tell you. The police had me tied up. They wouldn’t let me leave, nor would they let me make or receive calls or go to the damn bathroom, for heaven’s sake. Scott, I was a witness to a deadly assault on a customer. A raving, screaming woman came in waving a gun and shot her husband right in front of me, while he was playing a poker machine. I’m sorry, Scott, I was really looking forward to our date, but after this, I’m just not up to meeting you tonight.”
“My God. Are you all right?”
He glanced at Rachel. She flashed her quirky lopsided smile and he barely heard what Carol said. “Yes I’m fine. Just rattled. Can we do it another time?”
God Rachel is fucking hot! “Sure, don’t worry about it. I’ll call you.”
“Will you? For sure?”
“Yes, I promise.” Maybe.
“Good, you won’t regret it. If you know what I mean.”
“I think I know what you mean and I’m looking forward to it. Bye, Carol.”
“Bye, Scott.”
Why does fucking Carol suddenly seem unimportant. It’s all I thought about all day. He closed the cover, stared at Rachel and knew why. Taking his seat next to her, He smoothly placed his arm on the back of the booth behind her. He felt a little like a cad, because he was more glad than sorry by Carol’s no show. Rachel was infinitely more interesting than Carol and so fuckable, He would do whatever it took to seduce Rachel. But if, for some unlikely reason, it didn’t work out…there was always Carol and Jannine and Sue. Fuck Carol, Jannine and Sue. I must have…Rachel!
Rachel placed her soft hand in his. “You seem distant. Is everything okay?”
His conversation with Carol had thrown him a little, but not as much as Rachel. “I think so. It’s nothing that affects me. A friend witnessed a shooting and was shook up.”
Rachel’s mouth made a little ‘oh’ of shock before putting sound to it. “Oh, my goodness! Is your friend all right? Do you need to go see him?”
“It’s a girl and no, I don’t need to see her,” he replied. He supposed he should’ve shown more concern, but somehow, with Rachel sitting right there, looking like the cover of a glamour magazine, he couldn’t seem to put much emphasis on it.
A twinkle formed in her eyes, leading to a mischievous smile. “Oh. I get it. It was Carol and you thought you were stood up.”
His jaw dropped in amazement. “How the heck…?”
Clearly enjoying herself, Rachel gave a little nonchalant shrug and explained, “Because you mumbled, ‘fuck Carol’ earlier.” She flicked a glance to his eyes before continuing, “Were you expecting to get laid tonight? By Carol?”
“I wouldn’t have minded.” Giving her his best ‘forthright and sincere’ grin, “I’d rather do it with you, but that’s not likely to happen.”
He expected this to embarrass Rachel and she did pause for a moment before answering him. “Oh, it’s possible, but not unless I let it happen. I love sex, but I don’t sleep with just anyone, which, brings me to the point I was going to ma—”
She’d hit the right button with him. A girl after his own dic…er…heart. She loved sex, too! Not paying much attention to whatever she had to say after that fact, he couldn’t resist the impulse to kiss those impertinent lips.
This time, it was Scott’s tongue chasing hers. At first, in apparent pique, she wasn’t going to allow it. But her miff was short lived against the onslaught of his clever tongue. She gave in and opened her mouth. Her breath was fresh, like a bubbling mountain creek. As her tongue intercepted his, his cock sprung to life and strained the front of his trousers for release. His right arm swept around her shoulder and his other hand made a foray to her halter, sliding under the material, fondling her breast. Her gasp became a hum deep in her throat and when his fingers diddled her jutting nipple, the hum changed in pitch and became a moan.
Suddenly, pulling away, she angrily jerked and slapped his hand away from her halter. She’s a fiery one!
“You…are doing the exact opposite of what you said. You swore…if I were sitting next to you, naked…you wouldn’t lay a hand on me. That we would just talk. Now…” Her startling grey-blue eyes snapped fire at him, “You turn into eight arm Elmer and are all over me!”
Oh boy! I stepped into it this time. “Um…would it help to remind you, you’re not naked and therefore it doesn’t count?”
She glared at him for about three seconds more before bursting out in laughter. Her infectious mirth had him chuckling along with her in a certain amount of relief.
Whew! “No, really, Rachel. I’m sorry. I find you so incredibly attractive, that I just got carried away.”
A coy smile formed on her lips. “As I find you extremely attractive and that’s the only reason that I’m still here. Now, if you do this while I’m clothed, what would you do if I really was naked?”
He crossed his fingers over his heart and then raised both hands, palms outward, “Hand over heart, honest to god’s truth, we would just talk.”
“That sounds a little disingenuous after what you just did but we’ll see. Here’s the deal. We won’t go to your house as you suggested, but I’m willing to go somewhere to be alone.”
Now, we’re getting somewhere. “Where?”
Taking his hand again she said, “Assuming you agree, first you take me back to Pokey’s to get my car, then you can follow me to my hotel.”
For some reason, he was surprised and... disappointed? Why? “You have a hotel room? You don’t live in Las Vegas?”
“Yes to the first question, the answer to the second is no, is that a problem?”
“I guess not. How much longer will you be here?”
“A little over a week.” Rachel smiled wickedly. “Are you ready to get naked at the Hilton?”
He could sense his eyes widen. Did she say naked? “Naked? What do you mean?”
With a wicked smile as wide as the Mississippi, she tugged at his arm and said, “C’mon. You’ll see.
Chapter Two – Getting Naked at the Hilton
“Sex isn’t dirty! It’s a celebration…of
life!" Rachel Cook
She dug her keycard out of her handbag and passed it to Scott. His hand shook as he swiped the card through the card slot. He must be as nervous as I am. When the light turned green, he opened the door and handed the card back. In a fluster, she dropped the card and when they both bent down to retrieve the card, they bumped heads. She laughed rubbing her forehead ruefully and he smiled.
“Sorry, my fault,” he said standing back up.
Like a noble gentleman, he bent slightly and holding the door open, bid her entry into room twenty-one twenty-two. “Mademoiselle, veuillez entre. Please enter Miss.”
Scott’s invitation in French broke the ice. Smiling widely, she curtsied and stepping in responded, “Merci Monsieur.”
The suite consisted of a living room, a small kitchen and two separate bedrooms.
Scott glanced around and headed straight for the picture window, which overlooked Paradise Road and the Strip.
“Make yourself at home,” she invited, “I’ll be right back.” Her plan was to slip into her bedroom and make herself more comfortable.
When Scott didn’t answer, she paused at the doorway and glanced back. “Did you hear me?”
He turned slightly and flashed a broad grin. “Yes. I can’t wait. I’ll check out the beautiful view while you’re gone.”
“It’s beautiful all right. I’ll only be a couple minutes.” Scott’s preoccupation allowed her to slip into the bedroom. She didn’t think Scott knew what she had in mind and if she thought too much, she might have talked herself out of it. Might have come up with some other ‘getting to know you’ approach. Shedding her clothes, she slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower.
Still drying off, she scribbled a list upon the Hilton scratch pad on the nightstand. She reached into the closet and pulled down two complementary Hilton Robes, tore the cellophane wrapping off one and shrugged into it. She tucked the other robe under an arm and went back into the living room. We’ll just see if he can really talk and not touch like he says!
Scott must have heard her coming. Never taking his eyes from the view, he said, “You know, I can’t get over it. This view is magnificent.”
She was more interested in the view of Scott’s tight buns. I bet they’re delicious naked. “You know, you might want to turn around and check out the view on this side of the window.”
I can do this.
Turning around, his eyes bulged when she opened up her robe.
“What do you think of this scenery?” She resisted the urge to close the robe and giggled nervously.
* * * *
When Rachel opened her robe displaying everything she had, Scott was flabbergasted. When she giggled and didn’t close the robe, he realized she wasn’t just flashing him. That’s when he understood what she meant by getting naked at the Hilton.
How in hell, am I going to keep my hands off while we talk?
Her athletic, lean body flaunted its beauty like a work of art. High, firm breasts with light brown nipples, and flat stomach flowing into graceful thighs had his mouth watering and his cock straining. When she took the robe off, tossed it on the couch and turned around to show him the works, he had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning out loud.
“I’ve never done anything like this before.” She performed a sexy pirouette then a strut around the coffee table. “This must be how a stripper feels. It’s a thrill having your intense gaze boring in on me. I trust you like what you see?”
He swallowed and choked. Clearing he throat, he started again. “Oh yeah baby. I’m lov’in it!”
She had thin muscled legs like a dancer, terminating in the very fine buttocks that he felt up at Pussy Cat’s. Her only adornments were the pearl and diamond pin in her navel and the colorful necklace he remembered from the club. Otherwise, she was naked. Beautiful, luscious and fuckably naked. This is going to be so incredibly hard.
After spinning slowly three times and prancing around the coffee table, she sprawled onto the sofa. “What do you think?”
“Fantastic,” He murmured huskily.
She smiled and said, “You’re sweet. What about my flat chest?”
“Beautiful.” His eyebrows lifted though his eyes didn’t stray from that tiny movement of her breasts as they lifted and fell with her breathing. That movement mesmerized him.
She sighed exasperatedly. “How about my rear?”
His eyes fixed upon hers. Was she serious? She wanted him to pick her body apart like a grocery list? “Exquisite.”
She smiled. “You’re good for my ego.” Turning serious. “Is there anything you don’t like? Nobody’s perfect.”
“You are! You’re beautiful,” he replied, a little incredulous. “If you’re fishing for compliments to get me horny as hell.” He gave a ‘come hither’ wave of his hand. “Come here and I’ll show you just how beautiful you are and horny I am.”
At least she smiled before she wagged the “naughty-naughty” signal at him. “It’s time for you to shed your clothes, too. Then we can talk. Here’s a robe for you, if you want it.”
“Will I get to wear it very long?” he asked, starting to unbutton his shirt.
“Not really. Being naked in front of you makes me nervous as hell. I need a drink. How about you?
“Gonna get me drunk to loosen up my inhibitions, huh?”
She laughed, an infectious laugh. “Yeah, I felt your inhibitions on the dance floor. Do you want a drink or not.”
“Sweetheart, I’ll take whatever you’re offering.”
She sashayed to the mini-bar. “Good. Right now, I’m only offering wine. Let’s see. How about a chilled bottle of Riesling?
“Fine.”
“I’ll pour us a glass while you get undressed. Remember, I’ll be watching. Do it slowly, I want to savor this.” She winked. “Haven’t seen a man strip since Chippendales. If you’d like, you can take a quickie.” She giggled. “Shower that is.”
“You’re all heart. I guess I’ll skip the robe. This isn’t fair since I’m hard as a board.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh goody. I can’t wait to see that.”
“Rachel, you are too much. What are we going to talk about?”
“I have this list I made up. Just a short list to start with and to get the vital statistics out of the way. Come here and look it over.”
Down to his briefs, he went to the mini-bar. “Let’s see.”
She mimicked a whistle. “Ooh, you are hard.” Her crooked smile was back. “May I have the honor of unveiling your manhood? Please!”
Blushing, he responded, “Only if you do something with it.”
“Oh I will. Once I see it,” giggling, she said, “I plan on ignoring it.”
She knelt before him, and a more enticing view is hard to define. The crown of his erect cock already pushed at the elastic waistband of his briefs, mere inches from her luscious mouth. Out came the elastic and down an inch uncovering the head.
Glancing up at him, she licked her lips.
He laughed, hiding the thrill coursing through him. Then she pulled the briefs down another two inches. “Oh, this is so exciting. Just like Chippendales.”
He felt his eyebrows rise, “You took a guy’s briefs off in Chippendales?”
Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “More like cock slings, but don’t worry about me. Read your list.”
“Cock slings?”
“Read!”
“As you wish my sex goddess. Height; six-two; Weight; one-ninety-five; Age, Twenty-eight.”
Dragging his briefs down to the floor, his jutting, stiff cock became tangled in her hair as she brushed by. She grabbed it and disentangled it from her hair. Oh, fuck! Her touch felt wonderful. He almost lost it when she squeezed it hard one time.
“Oooh!” He groaned, as his erection pushed back, begging for more.
Rising, she said, “Sorry. Geez, it’s hard as a board. A rather handsome prick, as pricks go.” She winked and said, “We make a good couple—perfect sized prick and beautiful boobs.”
Unable to resist her charm, he cracked up and took her in his arms. Holding her like that, he felt a shock of heat spreading through his body. Abruptly, she jerked away.
“You held me! Do you realize what that does to someone as aroused as I am?”
Still unsettled from having his dick squeezed, remembering how exciting it felt to have it rubbing against her naked body, he replied, “Hey, I’m aroused too. Let’s just go in the bedroom and enjoy the sensation. We’ll start with you wrapping your legs around my head while I oralize your pussy.”
“NO! God damn it! We are going to do this my way or you can leave.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “All right. We’ll do it your way because I’m not ready to leave.”
“Good. Go over there and sit on the couch. I’ll bring our glasses over.”
She brought two glasses and the bottle over and sat down next to him. Picking up her glass and taking a sip she suggested, “Finish your list.”
Scott sighed. “Party affiliation; Independent.
“Race; White. What kind of question is that?”
“An important one.”
“Have you ever used the ‘N’ word? This is crazy.” He flicked his hand to the side, wrinkling the paper a little in exasperation.
“Just answer the question. Please,” Her voice seemed impatient, less playful.
“Why? What’s that have—”
Rachel cut in, “All right. Let me give you my vital statistics.”
“Height; five-five. Weight; one-twelve. Age; twenty-six. Party affiliation; Democrat.”
Her gaze wandered from the list to him, studying him. “Race; mixed.”
Her eyes fixed on him intently. “Has the ‘N’ word ever been used on you… Yes.”
This shocked him. He couldn’t believe how obtuse He’d been. “Wow, I never would have suspected.”
“Well, I am. My Mother is black—Biafran to be exact. Do you still want to sleep with me?”
He sat for a moment, unable to speak at the implication of her question. “What does that have to do with anything? Why should it matter that you’re mixed?” He shook his head, dismissing any conclusions she might have had of him. “You are a beautiful, intelligent woman. I wouldn’t care if you were black, brown or blue.”
“You’re sure?” She asked, her voice cracking from apparent anxiety. “I’m no shrinking violet; I’ve been intimate with Black and White men,” smiling coquettishly, she continued, “though somehow I seem to have missed the blue ones.”
He chuckled. “Not at the same time I hope.”
Flashing a devilish look, she said, “Only in my wilder days. You missed out, I’m a recovering sex addict and don’t do ménages anymore. Except maybe, if you had a twin, I might consider it.”
“Yeah, right. I’m sure. Would you like me to kiss your clit now?” He asked teasingly
“Tempting…but.” She rose and headed toward the bedroom and he started to follow. “No, you stay there.”
Returning and sitting next to him, she showed him her watch, though he only gave it passing attention. His whole focus was on the seductive jiggle of her breasts as she bounced down beside him. “It is two-twenty. If you answer all of my questions in the next hour, we will go in the bedroom and I will make mad passionate love to you.
“Start by telling me all about your own personal imp—Reverend Pat Robertson.”
* * * *
Her left eye opened to bright light. When the other eye opened the mountains were visible on the horizon, the same view she woke up to for the last two weeks. Gazing around the room it came to her that she’d slept on the couch of her Hilton suite. There was weight on her chest and then she saw an arm draped across her chest and a hand upon her breast. Hmmm. Did I tie one on last night? No, there was somebody. It was beginning to come back. Scott, her dreamboat. Her watch laid upon the coffee table so she tried to sit up and reach for it but couldn’t. The hand on her breast stopped her. Carefully moving his arm, she retrieved her watch. Twelve-thirty p.m. Did we get it on? Right here on the couch? Nah, I’d remember if I had sex, I’m sure.
Once up, she slipped into one of the robes. Scott was lying there, still sleeping, still naked. A rush of desire surged through her at the sight of his erection. She tried to remember whether it had been inside her, but no lusty memories flashed through her mind and that was something she wouldn’t forget. After removing the wrapping from the other robe, she draped it over him, hesitating for just a moment before covering his cock. He rolled over but didn’t wake up.
Entering the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee, she recapped what she knew about him. He worked for a public relations firm, handling PR and advertising for many of the hotels. He’d grown up in Vegas, having relocated here as a youngster and later earned a degree in Hotel Administration from U.N.L.V. Mark, his only sibling, was a marine lieutenant, due to be shipped overseas, but thankfully to South Korea, instead of one of the meat grinders. Both of his parents, who’d been well off, died in a private plane crash, leaving his brother and him financially stable.
I remember all this and can’t remember if I had sex? It must have been that second bottle of wine.
Bringing her coffee from the kitchen a couple of minutes later, she noticed Scott was missing. Entering the bedroom, she heard the shower.
“Hmmm.” Disrobing, she slipped into the shower stall. “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”
His eyes seemed to devour her. Grinning, he shook his head and said, “I would never refuse a beautiful woman the opportunity to wash my back.”
She laughed. “You are so romantic. Scott…did we make mad passionate love last night?”
“If we did, I want a repeat because I don’t remember it.”
“I don’t remember either. I think if we did, we’d remember. Besides, I’m sure we would’ve woken in the bedroom.”
“Rachel. Last night, you asked me most of the questions, but I have a lot of questions myself.”
“Like what?”
Scrunching his lips, he answered, “Where you are from? What you do for a living? What are you doing in Las Vegas? And that’s just for starters. After that, I have a couple of personal questions about your family.”
Rachel’s stomach lurched. She wasn’t up to answering questions yet. “I’ll answer all your questions later. After we get dressed, we’ll go to the Coffee Shop and you can ask me anything you want.” Reaching down she grasped his hard cock. “But for now, since you were so good last night, I want to reward you.” Grabbing and squeezing his staff, she moved closer. Besides, I want to see if this fancy cock feels as good as it looks.”
Embracing her, Scott’s hands scoured her back and ass.
All of a sudden, he drenched her, dragging her under the hot running water. Shivers surged through her as his wet, coarse tongue separated her lips to invade her mouth. Her excitement soared as his hands wandered over her breasts, fingers twisting, pinching and rubbing her distended nipples. Barely able to catch her breath, she tensed as talented fingers split her nether-lips apart, probing the edges of her needy vagina. Her breathing ceased when his wonderful fingers found her clit. God, I want him. I yearn for his cock…his cock?
Scott had Rachel in such turmoil that she’d forgotten she held the object of her craving—his rigid cock—in her hand. She massaged it and felt his muscles stiffen. He gasped, sucking in a gulp of air as he broke their kiss and threw his head backward. She took the bar of complimentary soap off the shower ledge and rubbed it over his cock, balls, over his tight ass and into his anus. With her hands and his prick now slick with a soapy film, she stroked him with a lingering sensuality. Her other hand on his chest, she could feel him quiver, which she was sure she did also when he turned up the heat by shoving two fingers in her sopping wet pussy. Remembering the condom she’d set on the shower seat, her shaking fingers removed the foil wrapping and rolled the latex down the object of her lust.
“Put it in,” she begged, breathily, “Please, give it to me. Scott…I need it!”
As if answering a wicked prayer, he grabbed her buttocks and hoisted her enough that she inserted his protruding shaft into her warm, slick recess. It felt heavenly when, his cock slid into her inflamed slit, hot water pouring over their faces and down their bodies, while Scott’s tongue simultaneously roamed her mouth for a languorous kiss. Words could not describe how good he felt inside her. I was right. When he first kissed me, I knew he’d be good.
Still holding her by her ass, as he pounded her pussy, Scott unexpectedly swung her around and banged her back against the cold tile of the wall, temporarily knocking her breathless. All this as his swollen cock banged her cunt hard and his tongue continued to ream her mouth. Trembling legs wrapped around him and crossed just above his trim buns. This encouraged him to fuck her even harder as if brisk, upward thrusts would defy gravity. Her mind was short-circuiting from the bombardment of conflicting senses—hot, cold, wet, dry, hard, soft, smooth, rough, slick, coarse, tender, violent, black, white.
Every nerve of her body was sensitized, primed for an exquisite climatic finish when, out of the blue, Scott threw open the shower door and with his tongue still roaming her mouth and his cock buried in her pussy, carried her into the bedroom and threw her on the bed. Standing there, his cock jutting out, studying her he said, “I don’t care what you are, you are a beautiful sexy woman, whom I am about to ravish.”
She grinned. She liked everything about this handsome man. Scott’s slightly disheveled hair, that deep melodic voice, his sultry sexy aroma and of course, that lean lightly-haired wiry body and upright joystick turned her on—big-time. “C’mon. Bury that beautiful fuck-stick in my sex starved booty.”
Scott chortled. “So now we’re talking dirty, are we? Rachel, you are too much. What did I ever do without you?” Scott’s facial expression turned serious. “What am I going to do when you leave?”
“I dunno. I guess you’ll have to come to LA to fuck me.”
His lips curled into a smile, eyes lighting up. “You live in LA? That’s fantastic.”
“Yeah. I don’t know how we’ll break it to my oversized football player husband that I’m going to be screwing around with a Las Vegas playboy though.”
She had to laugh as his face drooped again.
He looked green. “You’re… married?”
She nodded. “With eight kids.” She giggled.
* * * *
What am I going to do with this woman, girl actually? “Eight kids huh? With that perfect body? Rachel. You are so full of shit!”
I could get seriously hung up on this girl, if I’m not careful.
And what’s wrong with that, Buddy Boy?
Rev, I thought you weren’t coming back, after I told you to fuck off.
I wasn’t but Rachel is delightful. Maybe you should get serious with her. Are you going to stick it in her booty? She wants it you know, and she really turns me on.
Rev, I’ve never seen this side of you.
Hey, I can get into it. After all, I am part of you and we both know how rakish you can be.
Rachel interrupted his reverie. “Hey Baby! My hot, wet tunnel of lust is cooling off. Are you going to come here and fill me up?”
He wanted to fuck her bad but…he wanted to please her more. What is happening to me? I’m not one to place my partner’s pleasure ahead of my own. To his surprise, he said, “I will, but first I want to taste your Fillet de Puss.”
She laughed. “Fillet de Puss? Welcome to Rachel’s meat market,” she said as he lay on the bed, between her legs.
Relishing the things he was going to do to Rachel, Scott’s gaze fell upon her smooth, delightfully sexy mound. With a lighter bikini tan line across her lower extremity, she’d obviously been sunning. A titillating aroma of feminine sex assaulted his olfactory nerves as he spread her lovely legs. His eyes savored her delicate, elongated recess, adding to his expanding libido.
She giggled nervously, almost like a little girl.
“You may be laughing now,” Scott half joked, “but soon enough, you’ll be screaming.” Her giggles turned into sighs as soon as his fingers spread her moist folds, and his lips suckled her clit. Slowly moving her head from side to side, her breathing seemed to abandon her, and when his tongue teased the tender tip of her silky bud, she arched her back and pulled his hair. Gasping as his eager tongue circled the rim of her deep well, she stiffened and pushed, offering her sex further into his mouth. With her juices flowing freely, his tongue noisily lapped up the crème that formed, bringing forth a series of throaty whimpers from his gorgeous partner.
When her whimpers became a steady moan, her movements became uncontrollably wild. “Ooh Scott, You make me feel so good.”
Scott’s eyes took in the length of her sleek feminine form. Moving his arms around her hips, he rested his fingers on her excited nipples in an effort to slow down her chaotic movements. Her hands reached down to his face, her fingers feeling around his mouth and her pussy. Vaginal juices, seeping in abundance from her opening permeated his mouth and her inquisitive fingers. She raised her hand to her mouth sucking on two fingers. After which, her hands went back of his head, grasping fistfuls of his hair, pulling his mouth ever more firmly into her tasty pussy.
“Oh yeah! That’s it Scott, Oh yeah. Oh God. I think I’m coming. Uh, Ahhh. This is it!”
Her thighs clamped down tight along Scott’s ears and her legs crossed on his back, pulling him in even harder. Literally screaming, she rocked back and forth so hard, it’s a wonder he didn’t get whiplash.
* * * *
Scott appeared to be deep in thought so Rachel asked him if he was going to do her or not. Instead, she was shocked when he spread her legs and began a heavenly tongue fuck. Only a dozen or so times had a man dined on her and it had always felt more like an appetizer—a prelude to the main course, but with Scott it was the main course. What Scott did to her was so sensational that she wondered if it wasn’t better than being fucked. It was not only the first orgasm she had from a man eating her pussy, it was the greatest sexual experience of her life, that is—until later when he fucked her royally.
She’d kind of stretched things a little with Scott. She wasn’t quite as experienced as she let on. So when that hunk spread her legs, his eyes devouring her privates…well, she got tingly all over. And when he got this obvious smile of appreciation plastered on his mug, she was liquid fire.
As a warm up, he kissed and laved the insides of her upper legs, occasionally nibbling on thigh flesh. He set the top of his head at the nexus of her sex, moving his head slowly back and forth, so his soft spiked hair brushed against her clit, teasing her almost to crying. The hunger for his soft lips upon her clit was killing her. He could have probably made her cum from that alone, but then he gobbled her hot, sensitive bud into his warm hungry mouth, swabbing and slurping as if it was the best thing he ever tasted. Rachel’s head flung back in reaction to the wild sensations that coursed through her. She basked in the blissful feeling of his luscious pink lips suddenly surrounding and sucking on her swollen nub.
His delectable mouth was the best thing that had ever been around her nub. She scrunched her body, arched her back and grabbed a fistful of his hair. When he slipped his slippery tongue in her dripping pussy, followed by slow wet tongue laps up and down her clit, he had her so friggen hot, she thought she might burst into flame. When he took her nipples in his fingers, a new layer of excitement spread through her. She was primed, nothing but putty in his sensational mouth and hands.
The wild movements Rachel made seemed to make it hard on Scott, so she reached down and touched his cheeks. Like a blind person, she traced his handsome pussy eating face with her fingers. She could feel his tongue laving her sensitive bud. Her fingers, joining in the pleasure of Scott’s oral ministrations, became wet with her free flowing juices. Feeling an urge to taste what he tasted, she sucked on her wet fingers. Wanting him closer, she reached down and grabbing the back of his head, pulled him into her deep dripping wet gash. Scott had her slow cooking at medium temperature and he mercilessly kept turning up the heat until she was ready to boil over, and blow the lid off he did.
A smo-o-o-th wave of tingly pleasure came over Rachel, languorously spreading over her entire body and then BAM! She went ballistic, thrashing everywhere out of control, scratching his shoulders while squeezing his head in a pussy lock with her thighs.
Her composure restored, Rachel reached for Scott to tug him up beside her. That’s when she realized she’d hurt her hand. It must have banged against the headboard. Seeing her rubbing it, he took it to his mouth and kissed it.
She laughed. “What are you doing?”
He flashed a warm smile. “Nothing, I noticed a scrape on your hand so I’m applying medicinal kisses to it. Feel better?”
When she shook her head, he continued, “Not yet? I’m sure it will soon.”
Her stomach growled. “Right now, I’m starving,”
“So am I.”
Taking a sip of the coffee she’d brought in earlier, she scrunched her face. It was cold. “There’s a pot of coffee in the kitchen, You want some?”
“Sure. Don’t forget you still owe me some answers.”
“Yes, and I also owe you an orgasm.” Scooting down so her mouth was inches from his cock, she looked up and asked, “How about I get you off?” She licked his shaft. “And when I finish we visit the coffee shop and have a late lunch/early dinner and answer your questions.”
“Mmm, that feels good. After the coffee shop we could come back and snuggle.”
“I’d like that, but before we did that, there’s something I need to do after the coffee shop.”
Chapter Three – Pokey’s
“A nyone who says he can see through a woman is missing a lot.” -- Groucho Marx
W hen they left her room, Rachel grasped Scott’s hand and dragged him toward the elevator bank. After pushing the down button, they hugged and as if by magic, the elevator doors opened. They stepped in arm in arm and the elevator zipped them to the ground floor so quickly that he almost lost the coffee he’d drank.
On the ground floor, holding his hand, she led him to the Paradise Café.
Rachel ordered two coffees while they perused the menu. They were in the coffee shop, but his mind remained in her suite, where she’d given him the blowjob of his life. He couldn’t help reliving the unbelievable ecstasy of her luscious warm lips surrounding his steel-hard cock. How she stroked his swollen phallus, while her tongue licked his scrotum, taking his testes in her mouth, sucking on each ball, leaving them damp in the cool air-conditioned room. Then as she swallowed his whole member, stroking and sucking, she grabbed his ass with her free hand pulling him into her, while he spent his load in the only place he could—her warm mouth. It was fucking amazing.
“Scott? We’re waiting. Are you going to order?”
“What? Oh!” Rachel starred at Scott, a flash of annoyance registering on her pretty face. He turned his head and saw the waitress, pad in hand. “French Dip, no fries with a side of fruit. And a refill on our coffees.”
They were in a circular booth, their knees touching. “What were you doing? You were like—zoned out!”
“It’s your fault baby.” He smiled. “I keep flashing back to the fabulous blowjob you gave me.”
“Shoosh!” She put her finger to his lips and red faced, but half smiling, glanced around to see if anyone looked their way.
Grasping her wrist, he took her finger in his mouth and sucked on it.
“Not so loud” she said softly. “Are you trying to embarrass me? What I did to you is nobody else’s business.” She giggled. “What are you doing?”
Taking her finger out of his mouth and holding her hand against his face. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m sucking on your finger. May I ask you a question?” He put her finger back in his mouth.
Half smiling, she tilted her head. “Of course. That’s part of what we came here for.” “Why are you sucking on my finger?”
“Because I can’t do what I really want to, here.”
Blushing again, she removed her finger. “All right smarty. Question?”
“Okay.” Scott lowered his hand on top of hers. “Here goes. You told me about your mother. Tell me about your father.”
“My father’s name was Michael Cooke. A dock worker, he died in an industrial accident when I was thirteen. Until then, we lived in a white, mostly Irish, neighborhood in San Francisco. There were good-sized insurance and legal settlements that left mother well off and assured college for us kids. Nevertheless, my mother was uncomfortable in the mostly white district, so we moved into a home she bought in Oakland, near her parents.
“Living in Oakland was not a happy time for me. While my father lived and we were in the white area, I merely felt like I didn’t quite fit in. Appearing whiter than black helped, but in Oakland that worked against me.
“Let me tell you, blacks can be bigoted too. I know what was done to our ancestors was terrible, but the worse thing we can do, is dwell on it. Negativity never got anyone anywhere. Sorry, I didn’t mean to give a speech.”
Having lost his parents, he felt a closeness to her. “Tell me about your siblings?”
“Just a brother, but we’re not close.”
Being close to his own brother that surprised him. “You don’t get along with him? How old is he?”
She scrunched her face. “Twenty-two, but I’d rather not discuss him right now, if you don’t mind.”
“No you don’t, I want to know all about you and that includes your younger brother.”
She raised her eyes upward and sighed. “All right the short version. As you’ve observed, I take after my white father. Damen, takes after mother. Nevertheless, we got along all right until father died and we moved to Oakland. Our home was in a racially mixed neighborhood and everyone still got along, but the high school we went to was in an all black neighborhood and Damen fell in with the wrong kids…punks…thugs. Soon he rejected our father—said he hated him—and joined a gang. He and his buddies even made trouble for me, calling me ‘the white bitch’ and bullying anyone that would make friends with me.
“Damen is smart. He could’ve been a doctor or something. Mom had the money for college, but no, he quit high school. Damen chose coolness over goodness. He presently resides in Lompoc penitentiary, serving three to five years for assault with a weapon. He’s lucky it wasn’t manslaughter or worse. When he gets out, I’ll see if he’s changed. Until then, Damen doesn’t exist.”
As Scott shook his head in empathy, she continued, “Now that we have that bit of unpleasantry over, where were we? That’s right, you wanted to know where I’m from. As I said, originally Frisco and Oakland, but I moved to LA about three years ago. I have a condo in South Pasadena, a mere five-hour drive from here. If you want, I’ll give you my address, but only if you promise to come and see me.”
Scott pulled a pocket notebook out of his jacket and handed it to her. “I’d love too. Write it here. Phone number, too.
“Rachel, you’re so articulate. Where did you go to college?”
“I have a BA in English from San Francisco State and an MS in Sociology from Stanford.”
He whistled.
Rachel wrote down the information, closed the cover, flashed one of her heart-warming smiles and handed it back to him. “I expect you to be a man of your word.”
He opened to the notepad and read. ‘Rachel Cooke, 7275 Huntington Garden, South Pasadena, CA 91030, 555-644-1855 (My Hilton hump. She’s hot. Don’t forget her!).’
Smiling, he said, “I’ll be there. Bet on it. How does the weekend after next sound.”
She grinned. “I can hardly wait.”
They finished their lunch and were on their fourth cup of coffee. He felt wired from so much coffee. A glance at his watch told him it was three-forty so he asked, “Feel like going back up to your room?”
She giggled. “I’m sorry, I laughed. It’s just that your eyes look so imploring. Of course we’ll go back up there, but first I want to go back to the scene of your, or was it my, seduction—Pokey’s.”
* * * *
After riding to Pokey’s in Scott’s Jaguar, he opened the swinging door for her and she rushed into the dark, leading him behind her. It took a few seconds for their eyes to become accustomed to the dark lounge, from the bright hot Vegas sunshine. When she could see, they went to a booth located in a private corner of Pokey’s.
After sitting down, Rachel asked, “What would you like? The cocktail waitresses doesn’t come on until five o’clock.”
“How do you know?” he asked.
“Because I work here. What do you want? Oh, I know, Salty Dog, right?”
“Close. Greyhound—Salty Dog, sans the salt.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Rachel! Wait!”
Despite hearing him, she pretended not to. At the bar, she ordered a greyhound and a red wine spritzer. While Tony, the bartender, made the drinks, she tried to anticipate the questions that most likely, would be forthcoming. For the first time since she met Scott, she was scared that something would go wrong. Every time she looked at him, she got a funny fuzzy feeling in her chest and her stomach would twist and turn. No one had ever affected her like him. This is getting serious and now he’s going to have even more questions to bombard me with. Well, isn’t that the plan—why I bought him here? To get everything out in the open?
Heading back to their booth with their drinks, she could hear Scott’s first question from ten feet away, “What do you mean you work here? I thought you live in L.A.”
Setting their drinks down, she sat beside him.
“Well?” Scott had a curious look on his face.
“I do live in L.A. and I do work here. Temporarily. I’m filling in for someone until a week from Sunday, eight more days.”
“What do you do?”
“Did you notice that grand piano we walked by on the way in?” He looked over. “Yes, What about it?”
“I play it.”
Scott’s intense inquisitive eyes softened and she thought she could see curiosity turn into a tiny bit of admiration. “No kidding? You play the piano?” Scott put his arm around her, his hand resting on her shoulder.
“And sing.”
“So, you’re a musician? I’m impressed.”
“I prefer chanteuse, since I mostly work nightclubs.”
“That’s cool. How come you didn’t perform last night?”
“Night off.”
“Oh. I can’t wait to hear you.” Scott pulled her closer and placed his other hand on her lap. His face within inches, then his lips nibbled at hers and he whispered. “So, what brought you to Pokey’s?”
Before she could answer, Scott began kissing her neck, while his clever hand gradually slipped to one of her breasts. Brazenly slipping his hand under her halter, his finger began to circle her distended nipple, squeezing it occasionally with his thumb. Wishing they had gone back to her hotel room, she ran her fingers through his short unruly hair once and placed her hand on his chest, rubbing it up and down. About to suggest that they finish their conversation in her room, at the Hilton, she heard a loud “Ah-hmmm!”
* * * *
Quickly, He removed his lips from Rachel’s neck and turned toward the loud voice.