Roam Wild

by Valerie Herme´

  My hotshot says, “Go ahead, dear.”

  I step in the bedroom, naked except for the paint on my face and the shoes stretching my legs. Everything feels familiar. No doubt cameras are watching the bed.

  My hotshot surrenders his mobility to the nurse who takes the handles of his chair. She wheels him in the next room and attaches him to the IV. In the brighter lights of these rooms I see how his chest looks too square beneath his pleated white shirt, as if his bones carry no flesh. His eyes are lively. The rest of him is ancient and decrepit.

  His gaze moves away from me to the doorway behind my back. I turn to meet whoever he’s watching. The man who comes to take me is dressed in white slacks and a white vest over a bare torso. His body is young, slim, and well muscled. I think maybe he’s the crewman who lugged my bags, until I see his face.

  My skin creeps. My smile fights to stay in place. If my heart was linked to my hotshot’s monitor, the beeper would be screaming. The man who’s come to take me is my office assistant, Roberto.

  Chapter Fourteen Under Roberto

  Does he know me? His eyes aren’t searching for mine. They’re watching his hands roam my body. His to paw and stroke are my arms, ass, and belly. He squeezes my boobs and thumbs my nipples. I wrap my arms around his neck, press my bare cunt against the crotch of his pants, and send my lips searching across his face.

  His tongue parts my teeth and finds mine. One of his hands leaves my breast, travels the curve of my chest and hip, and grabs my cunt. I sway my hips and speed my tongue. His finger plays through me.

  I glance to the next room. The hotshot who’s paying the bill watches intently. His nurse stands beside his wheelchair and concentrates on the monitor attached to his heart. Roberto’s eyes are open. They’ve followed mine. He takes his lips from my mouth and says, “Come on, bitch.”

  I unbutton his vest and run my hands over his firm bare chest. My smile makes promises soon to be kept. I deal with his belt and zipper and wrap my fingers around his hot, hard cock.

  He tells me, “Go down.”

  I kneel at his feet, take off his shoes and socks, kiss his sweaty toes, and run my hands up his slender, dark-haired legs. My lips follow. My first cock kiss touches the underside, below his knob. His grunt sounds pleased.

  My mouth roams his cock and balls, kissing, licking, sucking. My tongue twirls over the rim of his knob. I take his all his cock down my throat. My hands caress his balls and his ass. He pets my hair and holds my head.

  I look up to his face, terrified of seeing recognition. He’s filled with the lust of a man taking total possession of a woman. It’s a look I’m used to. His legs stiffen. I wait to swallow a load of his cum.

  He says, “On the bed, bitch.” His voice strains with the effort he’s making to keep from coming. My mouth slides off his cock, my knees rise from the carpet, my back flops on the bed, my legs spread, and my arms reach for him.

  His smile shows his contempt for the slut I am. The one I return offers a counterfeit of desire. He settles his body on me. I reach over the side of the bed to where the condoms should be. There aren’t any.

  I guide his cock to my cunt. He drives it hard inside. My feet rise, my legs curl over his ass, my back arches, my neck bends backward, my eyes flutter, and my mouth parts for the dive of his tongue.

  His hips pound me. I fight to rise to his rhythm. His body is the stronger. He humps his cock through me until I surrender, locked to him helplessly, wanting, taking. His arms make me his prisoner. His cock settles tight and empties.

  The petals of my labia beat like the wings of a trapped bird. My lips surrender a startled moan and search madly for his. I’ve done this often and well, with many men. I can’t tell if I’m having an orgasm or faking.

  Roberto lays his head between my breasts while his cock finishes draining into me. He raises his shoulders. I give him my eyes. His reveal nothing but the spark of triumph I expect.

  He bends his head and sucks my nipples. His cock stays in me. I caress the back of his legs with my heels and knead his ass with my hands. If he wants to harden inside me, I’ll do my best to let him.

  I look through the glass wall. The hotshot hasn’t moved. The hand he uses to steer his wheelchair makes a faint gesture. I think it means he’s enjoying the show.

  The door to the glass room opens. Over Roberto’s shoulder, I watch a naked young woman enter. Roberto releases my boob from his mouth and sees her. I feel a silent laugh go through his belly. He rises off me and sits cross-legged on the end of the bed, between my spread legs.

  If he hasn’t taken a good look at the diamond ring pierced through my labia, he’s getting one now. Will he recognize it as one Laurie Deloit used to wear? Whatever he makes of it causes him to smile.

  He can’t know the ring, I realize. I’d stopped wearing it on my hand when he began working for me, after the woman who was my assistant before him ran off with me fiancé.

  He squeezes my toes and reaches for the new woman.

  She moves closer to him. His hand travels over her ass and down the inside of her leg. She’s a short blonde with a nice body. Her face is heavily made up. The cut of her hair looks expensive. She’s wearing hoops in her ears.

  Roberto says, “Give me a show, bitches.”

  Chapter Fifteen Showtime

  The other whore kneels on the bed. I come to my knees in front of her. We embrace. Our lips touch. We play with one another’s breasts and cunts. Roberto says, “Eat her, bitch.” I figure he’s talking to me. I put my head between her legs and my tongue up her cunt. She gives a fake murmur of appreciation.

  Roberto’s finger slides in my cunt. I wriggle my hips. He says, “You, bitch. Suck me.” He’s talking to her. I manage to keep my lips on her cunt while we rearrange our bodies. She sucks his cock. I eat her. He fingers me.

  He says, “Hands and knees, bitches”

  We go to the position side by side. His finger slides in my cunt. Her forced sigh tells me his other hand is doing the same to her. His hand leaves me and his cock probes between my legs.

  I think I’m going to take it in the ass, but it heads for my cunt. I guide it there before he can get other ideas. We rock hard but briefly. He withdraws from me and fucks her. She hurries to build to a fake climax before he comes.

  Neither the whore nor Roberto are anywhere near my league. Drop me from the act, and they’d barely be fit for the live performance peep-show joint on Second Street in Seattle.

  He grunts again when he loses his wad in her. His touch tells me he’s done fucking. I’ve known men with more stamina. He leaves the bed, and she follows. He says to her, “Come on bitch, I’ll buy you a drink.”

  I stay on my hands and knees, displaying submission and hoping not to give Roberto a last clear look at my painted face. When I turn to be sure they’re gone, I see him hugging her as they leave through the passage to the bar. He’s carrying his clothes under one arm. She has none to carry. On her left butt cheek there’s a tattoo of a rose.

  I recognize it. I saw it at the courthouse. She’s the client who showed up for her preliminary hearing in jeans with the seat torn and nothing covering the exposed half of her ass but the tattoo.

  My stomach flips with a new dose of terror. Does she know who I am? Did Roberto? I look through the glass walls. From the wrinkles in my hotshot’s withered expression, I know these reactions of mine are the icing on his voyeuristic cake.

  My fear is what he’s paid to see. I’ve shown him how much I’ll do for his money, how true a whore I am.

  His lips move. I can’t hear what he’s saying. His nurse wheels him from the glass rooms.

  Chapter Sixteen Tethered

  I leave the glass rooms and walk through the scaled-down version of the Torch Lounge. Roberto and the other whore are having their drinks are at the end of the bar beside the eternally playing piano. He’s talking, she’s pretending to be amused. They’re naked. From the professional way she’s paying attention to him, I bet she thinks he’s
the guy with the money.

  The stylist-topless bartender brings them fresh drinks.

  I ignore them and leave. I’m entirely naked. The handsome young crewman isn’t around to see the show. On the top deck I cross the empty open-air bar, uncork an expensive bottle of wine, and head for my room. The night air feels soft on my skin. If I looked from under the awning, I’d probably see a net of stars. I don’t bother.

  When I open the door to my master suite, I hear the soft beeping of my hotshot’s monitor. Lights are on. He’s in his wheelchair beside my bed. His nurse sits on a chair against the far wall, knees together, hands holding a paperback book she seems to be reading, face straight.

  He says, “You did wonderfully.”

  I ask, “Worth a Monet?”

  He says, “A Picasso.”

  I stand still for him, letting his bleary eyes drink me. I wonder what, if anything, stirs in his body. I say, “I’m glad you were entertained, but I don’t feel I’ve given you your money’s worth.”

  His monitor beeps faster. The nurse glances up from her book. A horny man lives inside his old carcass.

  He says, “I’m afraid it’s not possible.”

  I say, “Let me refresh myself, and we’ll see.” I pour a glass of wine, leave the bottle on the bedside table, and head for the bathroom. I use cold cream to wash the paint off my face, take off my feather necklace and earrings, and step in the shower.

  The hot water feels great, but I don’t feel the need to stay under it for long. Roberto didn’t work me hard. I douche his cum out of me. A Plan B pill waits in a silver dish on the vanity. I swallow it with a mouthful of the splendid wine.

  My hotshot hasn’t moved. He seems agitated. I drop my towel. My body is fresher, the scent and feel of the other man washed away.

  I say, “I can please you, if your heart can take it.”

  He says, “My heart will manage, whatever this fucking beeper thinks. I still do more work than most men.” To the nurse, he says, “Ms. Masterson, assist me, please.”

  She undresses him and arranges him under the covers. He’s wearing nothing but silk boxers.

  My part is to let his eyes rove me. His ribs show distinctly under thin skin. His legs are mostly bone. A black band around his chest holds a white plastic box in place over his heart.

  The nurse plumps his pillow, picks up her book, and starts to leave. He says, “Ms. Masterson, one more thing, please.”

  I wonder if I’m going to do a threesome with an invalid and an RN. He tells me, “It isn’t fair for me to be only one restricted in my movements.”

  I think, What does a rich man know of fairness? I say, “Tie me up.”

  A pair of scarves I bought in Athens serves the purpose. Ms. Masterson does the trussing. For all the emotion she shows, I might be a turkey she’s preparing for the oven. She’s good at knots. Quickly I’m under the covers beside my hotshot with my wrists tied to my ankles.

  He says, “Thank you, Ms. Masterson. That will be all. Please take the wine if you’d like. And turn out the lights.”

  She picks up the bottle, flips the switch, and leaves us in darkness. Medical monitors click and twinkle. The old man’s shallow breathing worries me.

  I ask, “Your heart?”

  He says, “Be careful not to shift the monitor. If I’m in trouble, it will signal the night duty nurse.”

  I touch my forehead to his shoulder and softly kiss his wrinkled arm.

  He says, “If I die with my cock in your cunt, who’d think me unlucky?”

  Crude but sweet. I say, “We’ll pace ourselves.”

  “How will we do anything?”

  “Oh, I’m flexible.”

  Over a slow hour, I show him what yoga and special workouts have done for me. I can move my bound body to where it needs to go. I suck his cock into a skinny erection, and fold my cunt around it before it can soften.

  My knees bear my weight. Having my wrists attached to my ankles doesn’t keep me from bending my spine enough to rest my ear on his chest. I listen to the beat of his heart while I carefully ride him until I feel his cock spurt. I give him a coming in return. I think it might be real.

  I roll off his cock and lie with my back to him and my ass snug against his hip. His palsied hand starts to travels me. I rest it on my cunt. His fingertip plays with my labia diamond.

  He says, “A man gave you this.”

  I say, “A former fiancé.”

  He says, “I can do anything to him.”

  I consider this a moment and say, “Make him a big success. Let him think he did it on his own.”

  He says, “A pleasure.”

  I ask, “Can I stay the night?”

  “Or longer.” His finger plays with the cunt ring. “I’ll call someone to untie you.”

  “Don’t.”

  “What’s your real name?”

  “You know.”

  “Say it.”

  “Laurie Deloit. And yours?”

  “Charles Anders. Charlie.”

  It’s not a famous name. I’d like to ask why. Or do I really want to know?

  He says, “I was born modestly rich. The rest I did myself.”

  In the morning I’ll be stiff, after lying tied up all night. My muscles need the discipline. This man who can have anything is going to demand constant special performance. The way I fucked him feels like the most servile and the most gracious sex I’ve ever put out. I can give him what he needs, and he can give me what I want, with no danger of falling in love.

  I’m happy, compared to the emotional sinkhole I’ve lived in since Stephan dumped me. I think I’ll stay on this boat a while. Any place with a glass room feels safe.

  About the Author

  Valerie Herme′ grew up in working class neighborhood of a small Midwestern US city. She enlisted in the Army after 9/11, participated in the invasion of Iraq, returned home, and joined the police force. After five mostly celibate years of working night shifts and studying by day, she was able to finish her degree in finance. She took a job as an internal security officer for a bank and married her boss, a widowed banker with three young children. Her keyboard lifts her from her life of soccer games, charity board meetings, and cocktail parties.

  First chapters of Valerie’s stories are available free at valerieherme.com. Visit Valerie Herme’s Erotic Writing Blog for posts from an erotic writer’s desk.

  Also by Valerie Herme′ from eXtasy Books:

  Mandi, contemporary romance, erotic and beyond, BDSM/bondage, ménage, m/f, f/f, m/f/f, five flames.

  Clytie, contemporary romance, action, ménage, m/f, f/f, m/f/f, five flames.

  The Fair Warrior Chronicles:

  Book 1 Minotaur, contemporary romance, adventure, paranormal, interracial, m/f, series, four flames.

  Book 2 Huntress, contemporary romance, adventure, paranormal, m/f, f/f, f/m/f, violence, four flames.

  Book 3 Midas, contemporary romance, paranormal, m/f, f/m/f, m/f/m, m/m, ménage, four flames.

  Book 4 Cassandra, contemporary romance, paranormal, m/f, m/f/m, m/m, ménage, four flames.

  Book 5 Morpheus, action, contemporary romance, paranormal, m/f, m/f/m, ménage, four flames.

  Book 6 Circe, action, contemporary romance, paranormal, m/f, m/f/m, ménage, four flames.

  The Glass Room Adventures:

  Book 1 Night Wild, contemporary erotic romance, m/f, m/f/f, f/f/m, ménage, four flames.