by Cris Anson
* * * * *
“Hey, you fell asleep on me twice. Are you going to sleep the day away too?”
Leaning over her and pulling the sheet down to her waist, Rolf watched as a delectably naked Fantine slowly opened one eye then the other.
“I had to wake you up at three o’clock to get you up on the roof, then as soon as we did the deed you fell asleep again. Do you know how hard it was to coax you down those steps when you were all but sleepwalking?”
Fantine’s eyes widened and she made a grunting sound as her brain obviously clicked awake. “Did you make coffee?”
Rolf pushed the sheet aside and rolled over her, snuggling her warm and soft body under him, his hard-on resting against her belly. “Not yet, sleepyhead. I didn’t want to wake you up by clunking around in your kitchen.” He nuzzled her throat, hearing the slight rasp of his three-day-old beard against her smooth skin. “Is that what you need first thing in the morning?”
“Um,” she said, shifting her hips and legs to adjust her body to his.
“Or would this be enough to wake you up?”
Slowly, oh so slowly, he slid his Magnum into her soft and damp center and stayed motionless, deeply imbedded, watching intently as her beautiful green eyes flared with awareness.
Lifting her hips to seat him more firmly, eyes just the tiniest bit mischievous, she murmured, “Feels like an acceptable substitute for caffeine. If you’re quick about it.”
“Lady, you deserve more than quick. You deserve hours and hours of pleasure. You deserve fireworks and candlelight and champagne. You deserve to be kissed and licked and sucked over every inch of your body. You deserve…”
He withdrew almost his full length then thrust into her, hard. “Me.”
And then neither of them mentioned coffee or caffeine or anything else as he fiercely plunged again and again into her welcoming pussy. He could feel her becoming more awake and active, more turned-on, as she wrapped her thighs around his waist, bucked against him, raked his back with her fingernails. But he was beyond stopping. He had to have her now. Oh God, the way she was squeezing him with her inner muscles, he was going to come, she was so incredibly hot and responsive and—
“Dammit! Oh shit!” With the last remnant of his sanity he remembered he hadn’t used a condom. With an anguished cry he pulled out, and seconds later he felt the pulsations of his Magnum spewing his essence into the air and all over her belly.
“No!” she yelled, one hand reaching between them to grab hold of his cock as the spasms continued, her other hand grabbing a fistful of his ass muscles, her legs still in a chokehold around him as she ground herself into him for her own climax.
When he was coherent enough to speak, he gasped, “I’ve never done that before.”
“Done what?”
“Pulled out.”
“So you’ve always been a Boy Scout?”
“I’ve never lost my head like that. I mean, it’s like second nature to me to wear a raincoat.” Rolf kissed her temple, her cheek, stroked the shell of her ear with his tongue. “You must have cast a spell on me.”
She moved her head to capture his mouth with hers, grazing his lower lip with her teeth. “Then, slave, I command you to bring me a cup of coffee.”
Rolf laughed. “You have a one-track mind. You must terrify your students.” He heaved himself off her, slapping her playfully on a well-rounded hip, then reached for his jeans. “However, I believe I can accommodate your wishes. I do know my way around a coffeepot.”
He heard rustling behind him—Fantine rising from the bed—as he took the dozen steps to the kitchen then looked back. She was standing, gloriously naked and voluptuous, pinning her hair up, her raised arms lifting those knockout breasts until it was all he could do not to drop her back on the bed and suck on her luscious nipples. But, he admitted to himself, coffee would give him a needed boost too. He hadn’t had much sleep last night.
“I’m going to take a quick shower.” She fluttered her eyelashes in an outrageously flirty way. “That is, if you stop looking at me like that.”
“I can’t help it. You’re very lookable.” He took a half-serious step forward.
With a soft yelp, Fantine scooted into the tiny bath. “Oh no, you don’t. I’m very serious about my coffee. I take it black with one packet of sugar. The beans are in the freezer, the grinder to the right of the microwave.” She shut the door behind her.
Rolf grinned at the sight of her jiggly parts in motion then turned to complete his assigned chore. He’d never ground coffee beans before, but hell, how hard could it be? He found everything, glanced at the raised lettering on the gadget that gave him sketchy directions, and felt a sense of accomplishment once he smelled the irresistible aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. He assembled everything and plugged in the pot.
By the time a damp, rosy-cheeked Fantine emerged from the shower, wrapped in a huge yellow bath towel, with damp tendrils of hair escaping from her topknot, he was pouring coffee for her into a souvenir mug from the Everglades.
“Madame,” he said with a subservient bow, gesturing to his offering.
Her first sip looked to him like a TV commercial, her eyes closed, inhaling the aroma, savoring the taste in her mouth before swallowing. She looked in the throes of another orgasm. Damn, she drew every bit of pleasure she could out of everything she did. Not a bad way to live, he decided.
“Aahh. Thank you. You’ve earned a B-minus.”
Rolf put on his affronted-little-boy look. “That’s all?”
“Well,” she said, looking around the kitchen counter, “you didn’t clean up after yourself.”
“Big deal. I left one ripped sugar packet and three grains of freshly ground coffee bean…” Then he grinned. “Wait a minute. I wanted to wash my spunk off your lovely belly but you ran into the bathroom before I had the chance. Don’t go blaming me that I didn’t clean up after myself.”
Laughing, Fantine replied, “Okay, okay, A-plus. In everything.” She stroked his raspy cheek. “You’re welcome to shave and shower. There’s a pack of disposable razors on the shelf. Just don’t stay in the shower too long. I have to fill the reservoir and empty the gray water every once in a while.”
“Yes, ma’am, thank you, ma’am. Um, I’ll just go out to my car. As a Boy Scout, I always keep an overnight bag in the trunk of my ‘Stang. You know, in case that piece of junk conks out on a deserted road and I have to sleep in the back seat overnight.”
She rolled her eyes as he dashed outside for a moment. Then, taking his own cup of coffee into the tiny bathroom, he did as she suggested.
Ten minutes later he walked back into the kitchen, feeling ready to take on the world. He’d donned a pair of black briefs—keep her off balance, he thought—and a white, collared polo shirt that accented both his dark coloring and white teeth.
Fantine sat in the dining booth, laptop open, an empty plate beside her. She looked up, gave him a smile that made him want to spread her legs again.
“I’ve defrosted a couple of muffins,” she said. “Help yourself. Do you have to work today?”
“Nah, it’s Sunday. Want me to show you around the area?”
“Actually, I’d like to go to Washington’s Crossing. There’s a tower commemorating the place where old George supposedly stood and looked across the Delaware River all the way to Trenton, fourteen miles away.“
“Oh yeah, I know where that is. Never been up there, though. You want to take this big bus? Or want me to drive you in the Mustang?”
“Would you? That would be nice.”
Rolf tied his well-worn high-tops while he watched Fantine pack a small insulated bag with bottled water and what looked like homemade trail mix. She locked up as they left the RV and he opened the passenger door to the Mustang for her, closing it when she slid inside. He got behind the wheel, buckled up and they were off.
I wonder if this would be considered a date, he thought as he meandered through the gently rolling hills of Montgomery County into Bucks Count
y, with bountiful crops growing in rich soil here and flocks of sheep grazing there in vividly green grass. Green like Fantine’s eyes, Rolf mused.
Twenty-some miles later, he pulled into a small parking lot. Bowman’s Hill Tower, constructed in l929 of sturdy native stone, stood more than a hundred feet above the tallest hilltop for miles around. He escorted Fantine inside and paid the entry fees—I guess this is a date, he thought, surreptitiously checking to see how much cash he had left in his nearly flat wallet. After reading about the Tower’s history, they took the elevator up and exited to a platform where they could access the remaining twenty-three steps to the lookout point.
“Did you see the picture of that spiral stairway before they installed the elevator?” Fantine asked as they climbed the last few steps to the top. “No handrails. I wonder how many people got vertigo going up—or down.”
“Not a problem for me. You okay with heights?”
“I’m okay.” Then Fantine drew in a sharp breath. “Wow! What a view!”
Rolf agreed. To both north and south, the Delaware River undulated, a vivid blue snake between hills of green trees and shrubs. “Look. That must be Trenton. A helluva long walk for Washington and his troops to surprise the Hessians on Christmas Eve.”
Fantine pulled out a digital camera and snapped some photos of the scenery then asked Rolf to pose. He did so with pleasure, hoping they’d remind her later on of all they’d shared in her queen-size bed.
“Would you like me to snap a shot of both of you?”
Rolf turned to see an older, white-haired couple. The man’s arm reached out and Fantine handed the camera to him then came to stand by Rolf. He put his arms around her from behind, nestling his cheek to hers, and grinned. The man took several shots before returning the camera to them.
“Thank you,” they chorused as the other couple disappeared down the stairway to the elevator.
After they too descended, Fantine stopped at the gift shop and bought an appropriate decal for her RV’s window. They then drove to the adjoining Wildflower Preserve and spent an enjoyable hour wandering through woods and fields of native flower species. It seemed natural for Rolf to reach for Fantine’s hand as they walked.
They stopped at a strategically placed bench to sit for a while and admire the burbling creek that bisected the Preserve. Fantine offered the cold water and trail mix. While they snacked, he took pleasure in the rustling sounds of green leaves and scampering rodents, the trill of birds and occasional piercing call of a hawk. He chuckled at the antics of a pair of tow-headed boys of five or six years old chasing after chipmunks, their mother looking harried as she followed their erratic path.
As they resumed their stroll, Rolf couldn’t believe he was enjoying himself so much. His focus had always been indoors, the better to snare a willing female in a bar or club. Fantine had picked up a flyer noting which species were blooming and was calling his attention to them as they came upon them along the trail. He was amazed to discover the intricacies of nature. It was like being reborn and having one’s eyes opened for the first time.
Suddenly a child’s wail pierced the air. A quick glance around told Rolf that one of those energetic boys lay on the ground screaming, the other simply standing and looking bewildered. Rolf darted toward them, knelt down.
“What happened, sport?”
His sudden appearance thankfully shut down the kid’s siren. Big tears welled in his eyes and spilled over, leaving tracks on his dirty cheeks.
“I got a ouchie.”
He raised his arm and Rolf could see a couple of red, slightly swollen marks. “You get stung by a bee?”
The kid began wailing again, as if Rolf’s comment had reminded him of his pain.
“Hey, sport, I know just how to cure what ails you.” He grabbed the kid by one wrist and one ankle and lifted him as he began spinning, making an airplane of the boy’s body as they twirled in circles.
By the time the frantic mother came on the scene a few seconds later, the kid was laughing with glee.
He set the youngster on his feet. A gesturing Fantine stood next to the woman, apparently explaining what she’d seen him do. The woman beamed a smile at him. “Thank you,” she said. And to the boys, “I told you to wait up for me. Now we’ll have to go find some ice to take down the swelling.”
She grabbed them by their hands and towed them in the direction of the office.
“That was a nice thing for you to do,” Fantine said.
Rolf shrugged, embarrassed at being caught doing something to damage his bad-boy image. “No big.”
“Still.” With a smile, Fantine took his hand in hers and they began meandering again. As they passed an enormous native rhododendron, whose flowers had all withered and dropped, he couldn’t resist pulling her through its heavy branches.
“I can’t go any longer without kissing and touching you,” he murmured, running his hands up and down her bare arms. “I wish you were wearing a skirt instead of those walking shorts.”
Her throaty laugh hiked his arousal up a notch. “And I wish you weren’t wearing underwear.”
“You noticed, huh? You snuck a peek while I was dressing, you pervert.”
“I also noticed you have quite shapely legs for a man.”
He kissed her, hard, holding her ass tight in his hands and rubbing against her. “Damn, I should have pulled you underneath one of those pine trees whose branches droop down to the ground. It would have been nice to grind you against the trunk of a fat tree instead of this gnarled thing that doesn’t give me any purchase.”
Fantine laughed again. “You’ll just have to contain yourself. If you’re a good boy, maybe we can pick up where we left off this morning.”
Rolf groaned. “Oh baby, you’ve made me as hard as the stone that tower’s made of. How am I going to walk around with a Magnum pointed at everybody?”
“You’d better not point it at anyone but me,” she said with mock severity. “I might shoot it off.”
“Oof, you certainly know how to kill a romantic moment.” He adjusted his cock inside his briefs and peeked through the branches. “Okay, the coast is clear. Let’s make tracks.”
They managed to visit the next stop on their ticket, the Thompson-Neely House, which was used as a convalescent stop for wounded soldiers in 1776, and its water-powered grist mill, without succumbing to the teasing, sexy looks they constantly gave each other.
At last Fantine said, “I’m hungry. Let’s stop at one of those restaurants at the bottom of the hill by the tower.”
Rolf bit the inside of his cheek. Damn, he wanted to give her everything she wanted, but he had nothing. If she chose the fancier-looking one, he’d be damn embarrassed, because he was sure his credit card was maxed out. And he only had eighteen dollars left in his wallet.
Not for the first time, he wondered what he was doing with this confident, sophisticated, well-to-do professional. She was way out of his league. He was nothing but an asswipe.
Talk about getting your eyes opened. His were figuratively bugging out.
Chapter Six
As Don aimed the Mustang down the hill, Fantine noticed his subtle wince that told her he had a hot-dog-and-beer wallet. But she was in the mood for a good meal. She’d enjoyed the day with him more than she could have imagined. He was eye candy. He stroked her ego. He was terrific in the sack.
She’d probably never see him again after they said good night.
Still, she always went after what she wanted. And she wanted dinner. “I don’t want any arguments. You’ve used your car and your gas and your knowledge of the area to show me around. I hope it doesn’t offend your masculine sensibilities, but I insist on paying for dinner.” She turned in her seat. “You can handle that, can’t you?”
He swallowed as he pulled into the parking lot of the swanky-looking restaurant.
“I’m cool with it. Thanks.”
“And besides, I think good deeds should be rewarded. That kid will probably be bragging
about his bee stings and his airplane ride for the rest of the day.” She smiled inwardly at his moue of discomfort. Just like a macho man, she thought. The slightest appearance of sensitivity scared them.
The structure housing the restaurant had originally been a tavern, then was converted into a residence then back into a public house. They were seated near a fireplace filled with a basket of seasonal flowers. She was happy it was a BYO, not because she could have brought a bottle of wine with her, but because she felt they didn’t need alcohol to rev up whatever had been sparking between them.
She ordered a rack of lamb, medium-rare. Don stayed near the low end of the price list with a grilled ham slice. She held her tongue, not wanting to embarrass him by insisting he have a steak or one of the more expensive meals.
After the waiter left with their orders and menus, she folded her hands under her chin and scrutinized him. “There was a young man, a teaching assistant to a physics professor, who was as good-looking as you, who wore glasses. To make himself less conspicuous, I think. He used to blush when women stared too long, or mentioned how handsome he was.”
She stared a moment longer then observed, “You don’t.”
“I don’t what? Blush? Why should I? I’m happy when a woman like you looks at me the way you do.” He shrugged. “My face is part of me, like my size thirteen shoes or my brown eyes. I’m used to it.”
“And you use it to good effect.”
His little-boy look surfaced as he dipped his head, looking at her from beneath his long lashes. “That’s what it’s there for.”
Her laugh was instantaneous. He was still outrageous. He was still a Casanova. He was still a one-night—correction, a one-weekend—stand. And knowing that, her heart hurt just a little bit.
As the waiter brought their salads, all locally fresh and bursting with flavor, Don asked more about her trips. She gave him vignettes of places she’d seen. Such as in Canyonlands National Park, driving the RV on a seemingly endless and steeply downhill road bordered by red-rock walls on either side blocking out the sun. They’d been cautioned that if it rained north of them, they could be swept away in a flash flood. Her traveling companion, apparently agoraphobic, had panicked so much she sat at the dinette table with her head buried in her hands until Fantine took pity on her and made a U-turn at a widening of the road before they reached the bottom.
