by Tanya Allan
They joined the end of the line for Non-US citizens and patiently waited their turn. Gordon held her close so they kissed and rubbed noses just like the lovers they were becoming. Michelle knew that she and Gordon would have sex soon, it was just she wanted it to be special and right.
A uniformed security guard touched Gordon on the shoulder, indicating that a desk had become free. They went forward together and presented their passports. The armed immigration officer was abrupt and officious, but he could find no fault with the tall British couple. They were respectful and polite, so he stamped their passports with an unconditional entry visa.
Michelle found it strange being back in New York. She had spent fifteen years here as a cop in her other life, and it all came flooding back as the cab took them into Manhattan. The sights, sounds and smells brought back memories, and she found tears in her eyes.
Gordon, who had often been to New York, pointed out landmarks as they passed them. Michelle smiled, as she actually knew the place a hell of a lot better than he did.
They arrived at the hotel and went to the check-in desk. He paused and Michelle smiled, she knew what he was thinking.
“Gordon, one room, honey,” she said, so he turned and smiled at her.
“Sure?”
“Uhuh,” she said, nodding her head.
She lost her virginity the first time around in New York, so she decided to go for the pair.
Gordon checked them into a double suite, and they followed the bellhop up to the room.
It was truly luxurious, with a view of Manhattan, and high enough to be away from the sirens and traffic noise.
There were two huge beds, and she sat on one as Gordon tipped the bellhop.
“Do you want to catch up on some sleep?” he asked.
“No, I want you to kiss me,” she said. He sat beside her and kissed her.
“I have my first meeting tomorrow, what do you want to do today?” he asked.
She looked at him. He was so handsome and so earnest that her heart melted.
“Gordon, I want you to undress me, and I want you to make me your woman.”
He stared at her, almost disbelieving what she had said. She reached up, pulling his face towards her and kissed him, letting her hand slide down to his crotch. He squirmed and held her close, then she lay back passively on the bed. He took his jacket off, and looked down.
“I want you, and I want you now!” she said.
He smiled, and removed her shoes, she let him unbutton her dress, exposing her breasts straining for release in the black lacy bra. She wore a black petticoat and tights. She raised her bottom off the bed as he slid the petticoat down and then the tights. Her lacy black panties were the quick to follow. He pulled her up to a sitting position, unclipping the bra from the rear, so her breasts were freed from their constraints. He licked each in turn and her nipples hardened as his tongue touched them, and he sucked gently on each one. She moaned and started to unbutton his shirt.
He stood up and undressed rapidly and she lay on the bed watching him and smiling. He took out a condom and she held out her hand. Frowning, he passed it to her, so she opened the packet, rolling the condom onto his now ready manhood.
He joined her on the bed and they kissed for a while, their hands exploring each other’s bodies. His hand touched her soft damp crevice, and she moaned a little. He rubbed it, finding her hot little cherry, she grasped him tightly and opened her legs, so he rubbed some more.
She writhed and moaned with pleasure, as her juices made his work easier. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and shuddered as an orgasm hit her.
He shifted positions and she screamed as his tongue touched and titillated her clitoris. He adored her taste and musty scent, and he found himself way past the point of no return.
She came again, as a gush of warm liquid spewed out from her.
“Now. I want you now!” she said, pulling him on top of her.
He found her easily and slowly sank into her, as she was so very wet and ready. She raised her pelvis and moaned as he slowly impaled her.
Her eyes opened wide and she smiled.
“Fuck me, Gordon. Fuck me. Please. Fuck me!” she said, and so Gordon started to slowly withdraw and then thrust himself inside her. Faster and faster he went, as she clawed his back and wrapped her legs around him.
Their first session was not a long one, as he was so aroused that he ejaculated quite soon. In that time, she had experienced at least five orgasms, so was reluctant to allow him to withdraw.
He rolled off her, taking the condom off. They lay close for a while, with her head nestled on his chest.
No words were needed, so she simply held him. Both dozed off, only to awaken some half an hour later. Her hands sought him out, finding him ready and willing to start again.
Three times they made love and, at four pm, they showered and dressed.
“I want to get some new clothes,” she announced, and so like a slave he dutifully followed her out of the hotel into the stores, as she bought some wonderful outfits. He insisted on paying, so she felt like a kept woman, and loved it.
He bought her jewellery and even paid for her to have her ears pierced.
She insisted that he buy some clothes too, and they had a wonderful time. They returned to the hotel with many bags, but he was several thousand dollars poorer.
She changed into one of her new dresses, and as soon as she put it on, he wanted to take it off.
They went down and enjoyed a delightful dinner together, during which he held her hand for most of it. They had a brisk walk in Central Park and then went to bed. They made love four times during the night, and Michelle felt as content as she could ever remember.
Michelle woke up and saw that her lover was already dressed. She frowned at looked at the clock.
“Morning, Honey, why didn’t you wake me, it’s gone eight?” she asked.
He leaned over and kissed her.
“You looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to disturb you. I’ve a meeting with the financial people this morning, so there is no need for you to be there, and then I thought we could meet up at lunch.”
“Okay,” she said, stretching, so the sheet fell away revealing her perfect breasts. Gordon experienced a sexual pang, as he gazed at her. There was something of a large feline about her; graceful, athletic, beautiful, but with a hidden and almost dangerous power lurking behind her exquisite eyes.
“You are so beautiful. It’s a crime that someone can look as good as you at this time of the day.”
She smiled at him, rolling over onto her tummy.
“Have you time?” she asked, wiggling her bottom delightfully.
He looked at his watch.
“Regretfully, no, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he said, and she pouted, swung her legs off the bed and stood up. She walked over to him, placing her arms around his neck.
“I miss you already,” she said, kissing him.
He held her for a long time, but then had to force himself to let go.
“Stop it. You drive me wild. I’ll see you here at noon, be good,” he said.
He kissed her cheek, picked up his briefcase and left.
Michelle went and ran a bath, and spent half an hour lying in the water. Relaxing in the warm water, she allowed her fingers to explore her vagina, and she brought herself to orgasm several times. The feelings she experienced were so much more than those she recalled having as Mike. She lay there, just enjoying doing nothing. She had breakfast in the room, seated in her robe and painted her nails.
She dressed in her smart but warm leather trousers, with a thick black roll neck sweater. She pulled on her knee length boots that fitted inside or outside the pant’s legs. The boots were cowboy style, with low heels. The leather jacket finished it off, and she looked in the mirror.
Makeup was an area in which she was still a beginner, and her long hair was beginning to piss her off. She adored how it looked, and had always liked lo
ng hair on women, but the time and trouble it took was something else.
She applied her usual minimal amount of make up, just some mascara, eye shadow and lipstick. She found that her complexion and natural colouring was such that she didn’t really need very much.
It was a cold November day, and the Christmas decorations were in all the shops and businesses. Only a couple of days to go to December, and so Michelle wrapped her new charcoal grey cape around her and stepped out into New York.
She had no plans, so she had left her shoulder bag in her room, preferring a bum-bag (fanny-bag) in which she had her wallet and a few essentials. She had not been in New York for over ten years, so she wanted to revisit old haunts.
She took a cab to her old precinct on 53rd, and looked at the tired building with the patrol cars outside. She had loved her old job, but did not miss it as much as she thought she might. Life was exciting enough at the moment, so she just enjoyed the pleasures and wonders her new life introduced to her each day.
She simply walked slowly down the same streets that she once patrolled, noticing that the neighbourhood was remarkably similar. Some of the shops had changed hands, and the bums’ faces were different, but it was almost as if she had never left.
As she turned a corner, she saw a Hispanic youth of around sixteen grab the purse from the shoulder of an elderly black woman. The woman tried to grab it back, but he pushed her to the ground and ran off laughing.
Michelle felt burning anger well up inside her, and before she knew what was happening, she was running after the youth. The noise of her boots as they hit the sidewalk caused the perpetrator to turn and look.
As he saw a woman giving chase, and an attractive one at that, it caused him to frown and slow down. She was big and very fast, with a look of grim determination on her face. His expression changed to one of fear, so he speeded up as he went round the next corner.
Michelle was sufficiently clued up never to rush round any corner blind, so she took it wide and cautiously. She had been right, for the man was waiting with a knife in his hand.
“Fuck off – bitch!” he said, rather wary now she had not fallen into his trap as he had anticipated.
“That’s not very nice,” she said, her natural New York accent free of any disguise now.
“Who are you, a cop?”
“I’m your worst nightmare, Luis. I know all your secrets. I know about Camilla and the baby, and I know about you and the football player. Do your friends know you give head for money?”
Luis looked very worried now, as she was saying things that no one knew about. His bisexuality was something he hid carefully from everyone. He had to be macho and straight, otherwise his brothers would not treat him well.
“Who are you, bitch?”
“I’m the Avenging Angel, and you, you little son of a bitch, have crossed the line,” she said and, in a blur of movement, Luis found himself disarmed and lying face down on the pavement. He watched as she simply snapped his blade between the fingers and thumb of her left hand. She threw the broken pieces into a trashcan that was nearby.
With his hands tied with packing tape, the woman literally carried him back to the scene of the crime, dumping him like a sack of meat on the sidewalk, handing the bag back to the old woman.
“Here you go, I think it’s all there,” she said, and the woman looked blankly at her.
“Hey, the big broad caught the son of a bitch!” said a shopkeeper, so a small crowd gathered.
She heard the sound of police sirens, so smiled at Luis.
“I gotta go, so you just be good and tell the nice cops the truth. Otherwise, I’ll be back, and everyone will get to know everything about you. And I mean everything,” she said, and with a swirl of her cape, she strode off, away from the small group.
“Who the hell is she?” she heard someone say.
“I heard her say that she was the Avenging Angel,” said another.
“Shit, you mean like Batman or Superman?”
“Don’t be dumb, they’re comic book heroes. She’s real.”
“Man, she is stacked!” said a young male voice, and Michelle smiled as she disappeared into the Subway.
She had two more encounters before returning to the hotel, and each had been almost surreal.
The first had been a pickpocket on the subway. The girl, Kelly, had been dressed as a Goth, all in black, with dyed black hair and hideous dark makeup. She was standing outside the station, and as men went to the automatic ticket machines, she would wait for her equally ridiculously looking boyfriend to drop change on the floor, and then, as the mark was distracted, she would go for the wallet, having seen which pocket to target.
However, on one occasion, Kelly had just got the wallet, and had slipped it from the pocket when she suddenly felt a vice-like grip on her hand.
She looked up and saw a very tall and attractive blonde lady staring at her.
“You don’t want to go to jail, Kelly? Your kid will be taken into care, and then what will you do?” she said.
The man turned round, and Kelly was suddenly very afraid, for she tried very hard to escape, but found the other girl’s grip was just too strong.
“Excuse me. You dropped your wallet,” she muttered, and handed the wallet to the man, who seemed shocked but relieved.
Bruce, the boyfriend had run, so she swore.
“Hey, he isn’t worth it, he’s screwing your friend Jeanette anyway,” said the tall girl, as she released her hold.
“Who the fuck are you?” Kelly asked. “And how come you know so much?” She had her suspicions about Bruce and Jeanette already.
The woman smiled, and Kelly thought she was beautiful, but menacing.
“I know everything. I’m the Avenging Angel,” she said, turning away. She vanished before Kelly could say anything else.
Kelly leaned against the wall, her heart racing and her mind unable to really take in what had happened. She then looked round and walked off, vowing to get a proper job.
Michelle’s last encounter was with a black car-jacker. She was waiting to cross a road at an intersection, and a BMW pulled up at the lights. Before everyone’s startled eyes, a heavily built black lad, simply went over to the driver’s door, opened it and started to pull the driver, a middle-aged white woman, out of her seat.
“Gimme you car, bitch!” he said, and then his voice went up several octaves.
“I don’t think so,” said a delightful female voice in his ear. But he was in no position to appreciate her, as both feet were off the ground, and she had a very tight grip of his genitalia.
“Say sorry to the nice lady,” said the voice.
He resisted, but then pain tore through his nether regions.
“Say it!” she insisted, her voice laden with ice.
“Sorry ma’am,” he squeaked.
He was then propelled through the air, landing painfully hard on the sidewalk. A booted foot on his chest pinned him to the ground before he could react, pressing him firmly into the hard ground.
“Okay Leroy, hear this, and hear it good. Your Mom would be so proud of you. Think, do you want to spend your next five years as someone’s bitch in the state pen?”
He looked up at the girl, but his pain-ridden eyes were unable to focus. All he could see was a golden halo of hair, and the most wonderful voice, which seemed to speak directly into his brain.
“Go, and if you sin again, I’ll take your balls away for good. I’ the Avenging Angel.” The voice seemed to mock him.
With the pressure gone, he was left there gasping for breath on the sidewalk. Passers-by had stopped and seen the silent tableau in front of them, but not heard a word.
Leroy rolled over and struggled to his feet, massaging his bruised testicles, and slowly walked away, wiser and suddenly a very sorry young man.
Gordon found Michelle in the lobby of the hotel chatting with a couple from Texas who had come to New York on a winter break. She had seen him enter the lobby, so had waved.
He came over and kissed her. He thought she was looking as gorgeous as ever.
“Hi Honey. Good meeting?” she asked.
“Yeah, it was okay. Our capital availability for expansion is a little more restricted than I would have liked, but all in all we are pretty healthy. What have you been doing?”
“I just went for a little walk. This is Mervyn and Julia from Houston. This is their first time here as well,” she said introducing the couple to him.
“Gordon is my boss, and someone special as well,” she said, smiling at Gordon. The couple could immediately see that these two were most definitely a couple and a well matched pair at that.
Gordon noticed that Michelle’s English was remarkably good, and her accent was if anything more American than Ukrainian. As Mervyn and Julia left, he told her of his observation.
She smiled.
“Of course, I’m trying to speak as well as I can, so I have been chatting to everyone who I can, and trying to get rid of the Ukrainian accent. How am I doing?” she asked.
“Well, very well, but the New York accent is hardly ideal.”
“Well, I shall have to be awfully careful to speak just as you do,” she said, mimicking his upper class English accent.
He laughed.
“You are so wonderful. Marry me?”
She looked at him, knowing he was deadly serious.
“Perhaps. I need more time. Is that okay?” she asked, and he nodded.
“So where do you want to go for lunch?” he asked, changing the subject while she gave him hope.
“I heard of a place. It’s small and Italian, and only a short cab ride from here,” she said.
“Fine.”
Mario Cambretti had come to New York as a child after WWII. His father had been killed during the North African campaign and his Uncle ran a restaurant on the lower east side.
