A beeping came from Robert’s belt. “Man I have to go. Shit.”
“Why don’t you come back later? Have some saké?”
“Your husband mind?”
“My husband has gone AWOL. He didn’t even make it across the Atlantic.”
“Well, what fucking luck is that?! I get off in an hour, then we can get off for hours.”
“You are so bad. Here take my key. I’m not going anywhere. Just wake me up.”
The door closed and Gillian smiled. New York wouldn’t be an absolute bust after all. Robert had been a great co-worker.
Gillian dimmed the lights, moved a chair around by the window, took the saké and curled into the chair and watched as tiny snowflakes started to drift past the window. Edgar, where in God’s name was he? She knew something was up. But what? Was it business? Was he trying to vanish from the face of the earth? Avoid something or someone? That’s it. He must have seen someone and then decided to make a run for it. A former client perhaps. No. Even that seemed improbable. Well, he was a big boy and could take care of himself. Meanwhile Gillian would be treating herself to room service. How odd. How damn odd to be sitting in a room that went for fifteen hundred a night, and meeting an old friend. Neither of them had changed but there seemed to be miles between them in terms of what money was doing. A plaything for her. Lifeblood for Robert. But they both seemed to know that. Gillian dozed in the chair and then dozed in the bath, wrapped her hair in a towel and flopped on the bed. She left the curtains open so she could watch––floor to ceiling––as Manhattan sparkled below her.
It seemed she’d been asleep for seconds before she heard Robert at the door. “Room service,” he whispered.
“Come in,” Gillian sang in a light voice. She could make out Robert’s profile against the backdrop of the city and the reflection of light off the falling snow.
“I gotta take a shower if you don’t mind.”
“You go ahead.”
“Hey, I brought you something. Open it.”
Not more Champagne, Gillian joked to herself. She knew the sacrifices, whether financial or moral, to bring such a gift, were not to be taken lightly.
“Roederer Cristal Brut ’69.” Robert called above the splash of the shower. About the same price as the room for a night. They’ll never miss it––
“Jesus, that’s nice.”
“Glasses are in the side board. Hey, you relax, I’ll get ‘em.”
Gillian luxuriated in the thought of more Champagne and in King size bed with a man who was––
Robert stepped out of the bathroom. “Oh my God you are swarthy––and hairy!”
Gillian’s eyes roved over Robert as he toweled off his brown locks and face.
“That’s my Italian blood.”
“Italian?”
“Oh sure as shit. I’m not Mason. I’m Missoni. I just thought Mason had some weight to it, you know. Missoni? Too many questions.”
“Roberto Missoni.”
“I love it when you talk dirty. Anyway Mason worked for theatre school, and it still does. I’ll change it back someday when I’m a star, or a director. If I want.” He pulled a robe over his shoulders.
“Oh don’t do that.”
Robert held the robe wide. “Just getting warm.”
While he talked, Gillian stared at his member. “Now I re-member. That’s why they called you the crippler.”
“You bet, the crippler. Gotten me more than one job, I hate to say. I wish it was just my talent.”
“I’m sure you have talent with that.”
“Let’s have some champagne first and then we’ll see.” Robert swiftly and quietly opened the bottle, as he had done for hundreds of guests. He got the glasses from the sideboard and then sat on the edge of the bed while Gillian sat in the chair. “Here’s to drinking my way across the Atlantic, then settling into some saké, and now finally a drink with an honest to God human being, and a fine figure of a man at that.”
“I’ll drink to that. As long as neither of us pass out.”
“Well I’d say that life has been good to you. You are definitely a New York boy, wouldn’t you say?”
“I guess so. Not much of a world traveler. I try to get over to London maybe once a year to soak up some theatre, but I have a good life. Two kids, and they love me. One starting college.”
“A family man. An actor who supports a family. Quite a feat.”
“Hasn’t been easy with a self-centred guy like me. How about you? Last time I saw you, you were on your way to London, said you’d never look back. You’ve made good for yourself––staying in a place like this.”
“I hate to say it, but I married well.”
“Shit. Did you ever.”
“I wanted so much to be, you know, absorbed into England. Into it all. I was just crazy about it as a teenager and I cannot tell you why. I just felt like my style was completely at home there. It was as foreign as I could get without having to learn another language, and I went to school.”
“The married part?”
“I met him just before I graduated. He had wealth, family, a nice dick, I mean penis––not as nice as yours from what I can see, but I guess the bulge in his wallet made a bigger impression than the bulge in his pants. Anyway, he was good to me. Fatherly, you know, but––”
“But?”
“But the sex really dried up. I don’t know if it was his age, fatigue, boredom. I don’t think it was another woman, simply because I sensed he’d lost his drive completely.”
“No kids?”
“I never really had the kid wanting gene, or the time, and he didn’t seem to want any. He’d been through an ugly first marriage, and I think there was some history or baggage around kids. Not to mention that his kids were at least my age. So in the end, it all meant a whole lot of nice clothes for dinners out. I was completely wooed, by being his wife, and by the glitzy world of high society.” As Gillian spoke she let her eyes roam over every square inch of the fine tuned body of Robert Mason. He wore a towel bathrobe and sat on the bed with one leg up, holding his broad hairy foot, while the other foot rested on the floor. He’d spent his life on those strong feet. Strong calves too. Legs must have been strong from the hours of shlepping. And, unknown to him, his robe had draped off his thigh and Gillian could see the large member known as the crippler. A vein ran down the side of his cock, and the head seemed to be swollen while the rest of the shaft lay at ease. Even his balls lay wide, as if melting into his leg. She followed the line of hair that ran from the top of his towel and bisected his torso, with finer outcroppings on each nipple and a little on his sternum. She marveled again at the white smooth skin. He obviously hadn’t had time for a sunny skin damaging vacation. This was a driven man, who worked to act, and acted to live. His damp locks hung down his shoulders. Here was the real thing. Not only an actor but, perhaps, a real live character right off of the stage. How could he not be cast in something? How could he still be serving food?
“Let’s drink a toast,” Robert held his glass, moved closer, and then encircled Gillian’s arm as she held hers. They drank, their faces close to one another.
“Tickles my nose.”
“At fifteen hundred a pop it better tickle more than your nose.” His face was so close. That voice, those lips, and big white teeth that she remembered. He had the most radiant smile––innocent and seductive all at once. He always had that look that seemed to be saying I don’t know what you’re talking about, and at the same time saying, let’s find somewhere private where we can fuck right now.
They both drank the contents of their glasses. Robert refilled them. Gillian rolled her eyes, “Even I don’t drink this stuff. You have good taste, I’ve got to say.”
Taste this, said Robert and he leaned forward, put one finger in the champagne flute and then touched it to her lips. She remembered how she had watched his hands when they worked together all those years ago. He had stubby fingers, thick, with beautiful nails. They always seem
ed scrubbed pink. She closed her eyes and opened her waiting lips just slightly and he slipped his finger in. “Taste it again.” And again he dipped his finger into her glass. This time she couldn’t resist and sucked on his finger, and again he pulled from her mouth creating a soft popping sound. “One more time,” he said, and he dipped his finger in her glass. This time she bit lightly, not letting him go, and then wrapped her lips around this finger and sucked. There are so many pleasures, she thought, that we deny ourselves when younger, for better or worse, dreams and fantasies that remain so and are never actualized, but fortunately we seem more able to fully enjoy them, a few decades later. He had wanted so badly to bed her all those years ago, and she had shied away. He still seemed driven and desirous.
She sensed that Robert was closer now; he put both his broad feet on the floor, and leaned into her. Gillian reached out, with her eyes still closed, and touched Robert’s neck, her fingertips just grazing his prominent Adam’s apple. She slowly and lightly trailed her fingers down his throat, to his chest where she languished, opening her hand to let her fingers encompass the soft skin of his firm pectorals. She touched the hair on his nipples, and gave a light tug. She continued the adventure and her hand trailed down the centre of his torso towards his belly. In the meantime she sucked more firmly on his finger, “Ooh yeah,” he moaned, deep and resonant. “Suck that finger. Oh yeah, suck me, suck me hard.”
There was something about Robert’s voice that rocked Gillian to the core; it seemed to reverberate inside her and massage her very being. He let out a low moan of pleasure and Gillian ventured below his soft smooth belly to the prize known as the crippler.
“Oooh baby.”
“Yeah?”
“Oooh baby, baby, baby. Been pent up in those work pants for eight hours, dying to get out and be appreciated. Oh Jesus your hand feels good on it. Oh man.”
Gillian handled Robert’s prick with the delicacy of someone handling raw pie crust, she could feel the thick vein that ran the length. She felt it swell in response to her touch. She felt the head swell more, and the rest of the shaft follow. “Oh you have the magic touch.” Robert pulled his finger from Gillian’s mouth and placed his thumb between her lips and the palm of his hand across her face. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck, do you turn me on. This is fucking incredible. Can you breathe?”
Gillian laughed and nodded. “Fucking love your fucking thick working man hands. Oooh yeah push me push my face.” To which Robert applied pressure and Gillian responded with more pressure and a harder bite on Robert’s thumb. “Mmmm.” She tightened her grip on his shaft making it harder and bigger.
“Oh yeah baby,” moaned Robert, “Oh yeah, what do you want to do. Just tell me. Tell me what it is you want from me.”
“I want, mmmm, I want, oh fuck Robert I want you inside me, but I can’t; you’re just too big, and I’m too excited. I’ve had as much sex in the past twelve hours as I’ve had in the past ten years.”
“That’s okay baby, you call it, that’s okay.”
“Well, how about you audition for me. I want you to audition for me. I want you to show me what goes on in the casting room. Does the agent get down on her knees like this?” Gillian slipped off her chair to her knees at the edge of the bed. “Does she lick the tip of your cock like this?” Gillian took his cock in her hand and licked the tip. “Does she want to see how well you concentrate while you’re having your cock sucked? What do you do Robert? What do you say? Do you sing a few words from some song or do you read something for her or do you have a piece prepared?”
“This will be a challenge of concentration, believe me. God I want you.”
“You’ll have to audition Robert. You can’t have me until you do a good audition.”
“How about a little Shakespeare?”
Gillian licked again, at the head of Robert’s cock, wondering if even just the head would fit in her mouth. “Shakespeare would be good, in fact great. If you can concentrate, you get the part.” She loved the idea of putting him through his paces. It reminded her of the smarmy world of advertising and how she had so badly wanted to seek revenge on all hard-to-please clients.
“Alright.” Robert rose, over Gillian, hands at his side, pushing the robe back to reveal a solid torso and a heavy cock that was defying gravity to rise to the occasion. He cleared his throat, took another swig of champagne, then started: “My love is as a fever, longing still,” He touched the top of Gillian’s head guiding her gently from being too eager with his sensitive cock.
“…feeding on that which doth preserve… Ahhhhh.”
“Come on concentration. If you don’t concentrate I will have to do something drastic.”
“… and I, desperate now, approve desire…”
Gillian was truly impressed at the focus that Robert maintained while letting her pleasure him, and herself. She held his cock and ran her lips along the shaft and marvelled at the thick vein that ran the length. She had never seen such a thing. It was as if something so big needed all the blood it could muster to get hard. And she loved the taste––a little bit of soap mixed with a distinct smell of his crotch.
“… as dark as night.” Robert paused, “Well. How was I?”
“You’re finished? Already?”
“It was just a sonnet.”
“I’m going to have to penalize you for faltering on one of the words. I think you added an extra doth.”
“Ah me, what a thing it is to fuck up the bard at an audition.”
“On the bed. Now.”
“So please milady. As long as I may drink of your milk of human kindness. Oops bad luck to quote the Scottish play.”
“Really? The Scottish play?
“You know rhymes with death, starts with Mac.”
“Macbeth?”
“Shhhhhh!”
“Hmmm, extra punishment for quoting the Scottish play.”
“Forgive me.”
“On the bed. On the double.”
“May I have the pleasure of pleasuring you? Will it help me to get the part?”
“Oh please! But you are a big boy so perhaps we could negotiate.”
“It was no mistake that this bubbly was a ’69. A great year.”
––and a great position.” Gillian lay back on the bed and loosened her gown.
“Here, here.”
“Allow me.” Robert took the bottle and tipped it into Gillian’s crotch.
“Oooh that’s original. Chilly too.”
“Methinks thou doth protest too much. Just a sip is all I want, milady. Maybe a slurp.” He clambered across the bed so his feet were resting on the pillow and his head was by her thigh. “Let’s see how it tastes from this lovely vessel.” Gillian sensed Robert’s large nose and his tongue pressing to get inside of her. Even then he was soft, and gentle and Gillian let her legs fall open at his urging. Robert’s legs were squashing his balls and cock, so she shifted one of his heavy thighs to free the crippler, and took his large cock in her hand and brought it to her mouth. They seemed locked in this position of ecstasy for ages, as if the ring of pleasure continued through both of them, neither knowing where the other’s genitals stopped and theirs started. It was as if they were one body that was able to pleasure itself.
“My balls,” said Robert. “Touch my balls.” So Gillian responded, taking the ample soft balls that seemed to have a rhythm of their own and gently caressing them, one and the other rolling them in her hands. She had had so little experience with men’s testicles and now she had to figure out just what to do, but as she started touching them ever so lightly with her fingertips, Robert moaned in pleasure and his cock responded. Gillian knew she was doing it right. The balls, she thought, how could she have ignored the balls.
Gillian’s eyes rolled back in pleasure when she wasn’t watching the gorgeous shaft so close to her face; Robert’s dick was truly a work of art and to be appreciated in the light, it was magnificent in its proportion and girth and texture. She needed it in her mouth and someday h
oped she could take it all inside her. In the meantime it seemed that he was even more eager to worship her. “I adore this beautiful cunt,” he said.
She had found a new kind of ecstasy. It was obvious that, not only did Robert love sex, but he loved women, and loved the taste and the scent and the feel. “I am crazily into your cunt.” She hadn’t heard the “c” word used with such zeal, and it turned her on, especially coming from this hungry man. It was visceral, organic and honest. Just the idea of his appetite was enough to turn Gillian wild. Just knowing that Robert wanted to ravish her, drove her wild, causing her to suck harder on his massive prick. While his tongue pleasured her, his hands searched every bit of her body, her behind, her stomach, her breasts, to tickle, trace and knead with the deft touch of an artist. He gently rolled Gillian onto her back where he was able to plunge his face even more emphatically into her, his long hair tickling her thighs. Throughout, he seemed self-aware trying not to force his length and thickness, but with each new sensation between her legs, she took more of him down her throat. Finally he had found that spot that had made her squeal in the past. Robert gently withdrew his cock, while Gillian got her breath and then gasped again, and inhaled. She placed her hands on his ass and dug her fingernails in, as if to hold on for the approaching ride. Robert clutched his cock with one hand, while Gillian pulled on his balls, his body stiffened over her, every muscle defined on that beautiful body, toes clutched, arms became taut and he sprayed across her breasts, tickling her, and turning her crazy. Gurgles of restraint came from his throat as if to suppress the real way he wanted to express himself, by screaming. He seemed to eat now, plunging, with huge mouths full of her and she writhed in a pleasure she had only known to exist in her imagination. He took her to the edge and then plunged further taking her over that precipice and into a place of total completion. All she could do was moan. When her grasp on his butt and balls loosened, he knew she had had enough, and collapsed beside her.
There they lay, on that King size bed, the halves of their bodies melding. Robert running his hand along the inside of Gillian’s leg, Gillian patting Robert’s cock as it shifted and shrank and expanded. What beauty there is with this man, she thought. As a young woman she had been so reluctant to give herself over to him. She had been afraid and perhaps she was right, but now they were both adults and there was little to do but enjoy the expanse of body and sensation as it presented itself to her. A gift.
Sexual Solstice (First Class Woman) Page 7
