by Devyn Quinn
The bedspread was faded, patched in a couple of places. There was no telling how many years it had been in use. Ditto the sheets. It had the usual accoutrements of a table, a chair, and an old color television bolted to a TV table in the corner opposite the beds. The puke-green carpet was well worn, thin in spots, and the poor old air conditioner leaked mightily as it labored against the heat. A few doors down, an ice machine hummed, dumping out a fresh load of chilled bliss.
To her relief, the place wasn’t crawling with roaches and didn’t smell too terribly bad, which was a high mark in Melanie’s book. And the fact they could process credit card transactions was a definite plus. At least she wasn’t wholly dependent on the strange man she’d let pick her up. She’d even managed to get the hotel clerk to advance her a hundred dollars on her card so she could pay him back and cover dinner. She didn’t want to feel beholden; was glad he’d helped her out, but now she wouldn’t owe him anything further. She didn’t have any other clothes to wear, but a shower would be heaven.
Before they’d reached the room, Melanie had stopped to fill the plastic bucket provided by the clerk. Right now the only thing she wanted to do was run ice all over her blistering hot skin. Getting naked and under a cool spray of water would be an even better idea.
It definitely wasn’t Shangri-La, but out in the middle of nowhere, it was a little slice of paradise. She’d offered to get Jake a room, but he’d declined. A quick shower was all he wanted, then he’d be on his way.
Toting a good-sized knapsack, which was more than she had, Jake looked around the room. “This’ll do.” He tossed it on the bed, then flipped on the television, finding the local news channel. He flopped down on the bed. “You going to bathe first?”
Melanie set the ice down on the bed table. “Yes, I will. Thanks.” Purse in hand, she disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door.
Flipping on the light, she found herself in the usual motel bathroom; sink, toilet, shower behind a semi-transparent curtain. There were a couple of thin towels, a washcloth, tiny bar of wrapped soap and even tinier bottle of shampoo. The tile on the floor was chipped and missing in places, the grout a little stained, sink and toilet showing the reddish rust of the hard mineral water corroding the pipes.
Kicking off her sandals and stripping down to bra and panties, she looked over her limp blouse and skirt. There wasn’t much she could do with them. Taking a washrag, she ran it under hot water and brushed them up and down. It didn’t help much, but it made her feel like she was doing something to make them look a little neater, less wrinkled. Hanging them on the hooks affixed to the back of the door, she doffed panties and bra. Her lingerie looked no better. She wished she’d had the smarts to grab her bag, but trying to hold on to a bulky bag on the back of a motorcycle would’ve been ridiculous. As for a clothing store…there wasn’t one. The hotel’s clerk had informed her that most residents did their major shopping in the next town over. Talk about living in the middle of nowhere.
Stepping to the shower, she turned on the taps, adjusting the water until it was warm, without being too hot. Unwrapping the little bar of scented soap, she stepped under the stream of water. The water sprayed down with the force of stinging needles. It was a welcome sting, though, the water driving away the grime of the whole terrible day. She soaped up, glad to rinse away the dirt and sweat.
As her hands skimmed over her breasts and ribs, she let her fingers come to rest on her belly. Because she’d never had children, no stretch marks marred her skin. Still, her belly was scarred, the tiny white puckers never entirely tanning the way unblemished skin did. At the age of nineteen, before she’d married Phil, she’d had a hysterectomy. Doctors had advised her that the polyps developing on her ovaries had the potential to turn cancerous, the way they had with her mother. Fearing the worst, she’d agreed to the surgery. Phil had assured her it didn’t matter to him—he loved her whether or not she was able to have a baby. At the time she’d believed him. Now she wondered if he hadn’t used her infertility as an excuse to cheat; because she wasn’t a whole woman anymore.
I still have feelings, she thought. I still enjoy sex, having a man make love to me.
Her hand drifted down, gently touching the soft petals between her thighs. Very lightly, she ran her finger down between her lips, touching herself. She pushed her finger in deeper, slipping it up until the pad of her finger touched her clit, and she felt her body tremble. She tilted back her head and closed her eyes. Should she be embarrassed to be touching herself this way? She wasn’t.
Her finger slid up and down slowly, ever so gently. A faint moan escaped her lips as she spread her lips apart. She hadn’t thought about sex until she’d met Jake, but since wrapping her arms around his chest and feeling the powerful vibrations of the motorcycle between her legs, she’d thought of nothing but sex, more specifically, making love to him.
Would he be a gentle lover, or would he bang a woman with a fierce rhythm? She could imagine her legs spread around his hips, his cock driving fiercely into her. The way he’d make love wouldn’t be vicious, she thought, but intense, a wholly consuming thing. God, just thinking about having him certainly did not quell her body’s desire to be sexually sated, only inflamed it.
She moaned as her finger entered her creamy depth. Unable to stop herself, she started pumping her fingers in and out. She groaned and pumped faster and harder, moaning and whimpering under the spray of water.
“Oh, God…” She moaned, her vagina’s muscles tightening around her fingers. She bit her lip, her body starting to shake. She closed her eyes and gripped the railing with her free hand, feeling her body respond to the vibrations of climax. When she squeezed her thighs together, the feeling became more intense. Her chest was heaving slightly, her breasts rising and falling as her hips rocked back and forth.
Eyes closed and lips slightly parted, she tilted her head back farther and moaned a little louder. How she wished a man were here, slipping his hands down to her ass and pulling her to his hard hips, grinding his shaft against her. Orgasm came without warning, a wave of pleasure beyond all control. A little cry bubbled up out of her throat.
Sated, she leaned weakly against the wall of the shower. The water had gone cold, and she hadn’t even noticed. Was it pathetic she was masturbating in the shower all by herself when a desirable man waited outside her door?
I can’t sleep with a strange man, she blushed. God, no telling where he’s been, who he’s slept with.
Shaking her head, she put having sex with Jake out of her head. It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be reasonable. It wouldn’t be Melanie.
“God,” she whispered. “I’m so tired of me.” Twisting the cap off the shampoo, she dumped its contents on her head and finished her washing.
Turning off the water, she pushed aside the shower curtain, snagged a towel and dried the water off her body. Her panties were still wet, but she put them on anyway. The heat of her body would dry the thin nylon in a few minutes. Besides, it wasn’t uncomfortable to have a wet crotch against her. She needed a little cooling off down there. She slipped into her skirt, then put on her blouse, foregoing her bra. Rather than tucking it in her skirt, she knotted it around her flat belly in a more casual summer style.
She surveyed her image in the mirror, combing her hair back, letting it part naturally and hang loose around her shoulders. Rather than wear a lot of make-up, she decided on a little eye shadow, mascara and lipstick. Her cheeks were already more than red from being under the scorching sun, so she certainly had no need of blush. She didn’t look lovely, but she didn’t look butt-ugly, either. She looked like a woman trying to make the best of a bad situation.
When she exited the bathroom, the look on Jake’s face said she looked quite fine. His eyes skimmed her from head to foot, pausing a moment on her breasts, the bead hard tips of her nipples poking through the white material, her bare slice of belly, then her slender hips. A tiny flicker of sensation coiled through her, a sweet ache mingling with
the pride she could actually have such an arousing effect on him.
He wants me. She savored the tingle. I can tell by the way his eyes caress my body, he’s thinking about us together… Instead of being embarrassed he found her attractive, she discovered there was a certain excitement to be savored in the knowledge she was a desirable and sexual woman in his eyes.
His eyes widened. A small smile touched his mouth. “You clean up nice,” he said.
She made a fluttery gesture with her hands. “I can be nicer,” she said with a laugh. “But this is all I have to work with.”
“It’s enough.” Stretching like a lazy cat, he lifted himself off the bed and stripped off his T-shirt in one smooth motion. His muscles rippled like a snake skimming over the desert sand, bringing a whole new set of warm feelings to her body. In the perimeters of the small room, he was standing far too close to her. She felt dizzy from the awareness of him, from her wretched over-responsiveness to his very maleness, and it galled her she seemed completely unable to control her body’s physical compulsions. She wanted to edge closer to him, put her hands on him and explore his chest, his arms, his strong thighs…
She made a soft little sound of appreciation, but quickly caught herself and stepped out of his path. It was hell to fight her attraction, to remind herself she would pay over and over again in guilt if she gave in and had sex with a strange man.
“Your turn for the shower,” she quipped lightly, forcing her eyes off him and onto the television. She reached for the remote control and began to flip the channels, pretending all the while her attention was on the screen and not the hot man standing just a few feet away.
He dug in his knapsack and pulled out a small shaving kit. “I won’t be long.”
“Okay. But I’ll warn you now, it’s cold.”
“You were in there long enough, so I wasn’t expecting any hot water.” When he went into the bathroom, he didn’t close the door behind him.
“There’s room in here for two,” he said, giving her a wicked grin. “You could always make things more interesting by joining me.”
“Join you?” She pretended to scoff. “I don’t even know you.”
She gave a tiny shiver. Not because the found the idea repulsive, but because she found it intriguing. Surely her body wouldn’t have reacted to him so strongly if there had been other men in her life. Every breath she took only reinforced her physical and emotional awareness of him. She could actually feel her own burning need for him deep inside her body. Her breasts suddenly felt heavy and tender. She wanted him to come into the bedroom, press her back onto the bed, spread her legs…
She knew immediately he’d seen what was in her eyes, because she saw the recognition of it flash within his own.
He walked into the bedroom, unbuttoning the top of his jeans. “It would be a good way to get to know me, don’t you think?” Before she could stop him, he slid his fingers around to the nape of her neck, his thumb brushing the flushed heat of her cheek, before barely touching the quivering left corner of her mouth.
Melanie tried to pull away, turn her head. “No, Jake…no,” she protested huskily. “I don’t want this.” But she knew it was a lie. There was nothing more she wanted than the intimacy of his strong arms around her, his body moving against hers, his erect cock rubbing against her moist slit.
She was still trying to helplessly protest when he started to kiss her, slowly at first, both his hands now cupping her face. The kiss was slow and lingering, as he tasted the texture of her lips, his tongue caressing their soft outline before pushing deeper into her mouth. For a moment, the gap between them threatened to completely close. Then she was pushing him away, gasping.
“I’m sorry,” she said hastily. “I can’t.” She drew a deep breath, rubbing at her mouth as though trying to erase the memory of this kiss.
Instead of being angry, he drew back with a laugh, unabashed and unoffended. “Suit yourself. The offer is always on the table.” Giving her a quick wink, he sauntered back into the bathroom. There, he stripped down to his bare ass without a hint of embarrassment.
Though she was trying hard to keep her cool and not gasp aloud, Melanie couldn’t help noticing he wore no underwear. His ass was tight, hard and round. Those firm cheeks were like an apple she’d love to bite into. Flicking aside the shower curtain, he turned on the water.
She found the sight of his naked body unnerving, but not frightening. She didn’t feel he would force himself on her, but learning he wanted her was increasing her own need, her own desires. The wave of heat suffusing her told its own story.
Blushing furiously red, her heart hammering in her chest, Melanie threw her hands up in front of her eyes, dipping her head so he couldn’t see the betraying emotions in her eyes, the ones screaming she’d be happy to rip off her own clothes again and join him.
Jake stepped under the water and pulled the curtain closed. As it was clear plastic, she could still see his every tantalizing move. Watching him wash caused an odd weakening sensation in her stomach.
If I suited myself, she thought, I would be right in there with him.
Chapter Nine
The diner wasn’t the nicest place she’d ever been in, but it looked clean. Whether by accident or design, it seemed to be echoing a late-fifties motif, complete with slide-in booths, a counter with stools, and a huge mural of James Dean and Elvis arm-wrestling over Marilyn Monroe. As she and Jake slid into a booth, a waitress dressed in jeans and a blue-and-white-checkered blouse came over and set down two glasses of ice water and a couple of plastic-coated menus with tattered edges.
Melanie immediately reached for the water. “God, that tastes wonderful.”
“Anything else to drink?” The waitress tapped her pencil against her pad.
“A beer,” Jake said.
“You?” The waitress asked Melanie.
“Tea.”
The waitress, whose nametag read 'Susie', nodded. “I’ll get your drinks while you look at the menus.” She sauntered off, stopping to pick up some dirty dishes at another table.
Melanie flipped open her menu. “Well, since I’m buying, pick whatever you want.”
“Big spender, huh?”
“Oh, the biggest.”
Jake opened his own menu. “Let’s see what they have here.”
Glancing down at her menu, Melanie couldn’t help sneaking a look at Jake as he read his. After the shower, he’d shaved, getting rid of his facial hair and combing his own long hair back into a ponytail gathered at the nape of his neck. His face seemed so much more sharply sculpted now, so much harder, more strikingly masculine.
Though he’d dressed in the same jeans, he’d put on a clean black T-shirt and a faded denim jacket. He looked good. Damn good. The slight movements of his body kept attracting her attention, her eyes flickering helplessly toward him as though he were a magnet she could not resist. She was so tempted to rub her leg against his, slip off her sandal, and work her toes up toward his crotch.
And that kiss he’d given her. God, the all-consuming kiss...the kind that practically made a woman come in her panties. She wanted to taste his lips again—and more. Just being with him even now ignited a hunger going past the physical, straight into the core of her being.
The waitress returned, breaking her train of thought as she set down a bottled beer and a large glass of iced tea, complete with wedges of lemon. She was suddenly burning hot. Reaching for her glass, she took a hasty sip. A splash of liquid went down her chin to dribble on her blouse.
“Oh, damn!” she cursed, snatching up a napkin and scrubbing at her breasts.
“Having a little trouble finding your mouth?” Jake teased, taking a sip of his own beverage. He managed not to spill his.
She tossed the rumpled napkin on the table. “Apparently I am having all kinds of trouble today. Talk about everything that can go wrong going wrong. This hasn’t been my day at all.”
“Could be worse. You could still be sitting on the highway waitin
g for a ride.”
She had to smile. “Yeah, guess so.” She tried another drink and managed to hit her mouth.
“Ready to order?” the waitress broke in.
Jake glanced at his menu. “Steak and home fries, and make sure the cow is dead.”
The waitress grinned and scribbled on her pad. “Well done.”
“Very well done.”
She looked to Melanie. “You?”
Too distracted by Jake to have looked closely at the menu, Melanie hastily skimmed the selections. As she suspected, they were loaded with waist-busting, calorie-laden selections typical to the southwestern area; steaks, hamburgers, Mexican food. Even the chicken dishes were swimming in oil, and the appetizers were all deep-fried. She looked in vain for salad selections and came up with only the ‘garden salad’ consisting of nothing more than lettuce, a few slices of tomato and cucumbers with carrot shavings and croutons. The dressings available were French, Ranch, or Bleu Cheese.
“Um, is this all you have for salads?”
Susie’s head went up and down. “That’s it.”
Melanie sighed. She was so hungry, and had entertained visions of a baked chicken breast with a side of steamed veggies. “I might have the salad. There’s not really much to choose from…”
“Is that all?” Jake asked with a laugh. “What the matter? Watching your figure?”
“Of course I am.”
He eyed her. “Trust me. You got nothing there in the way of fat. Why don’t you have some real food? A good piece of meat might do you some good. Put some iron in your blood and color in your cheeks.”
“I try to eat healthy food, not junk.”
He pulled a face reflecting disgust. “I guess if you ate it, your kind would go and barf it up anyway.”
