Blue Motel Room [Suncoast Society]

by Tymber Dalton

  She let out an appreciative whistle. “Damn, boy. That makes me want to cry, that you’re gay.” She reached out, stroking a finger down the pale crosshatch of scars and faded bruises along the outside of his left thigh, her gaze then shifting and taking in the scars on his right leg. “What’s all that?”

  “Nothing.” Ivan knelt on the floor in front of her, gently tapping his cup against hers in a toast to draw her attention back there and off his legs. “I’m yours all night, however you want me, ma’am.” He took another couple of swallows of his drink. “All I ask is I get a spanking out of it. A real one. A hard one. I need to cry.”

  “My ex is a Dom.” She smiled. “I’m not exactly subby myself, baby. You want to negotiate this?”

  “Spanking.” He nodded at her leather belt. “Or belting. No marks on my arms or face. And, obviously, don’t kill me or choke me out or anything like that. No stabby-stabby. Nothing…gross. Meaning no piss or scat. Other than that, I’m yours to play with tonight, and I promise to make sure you fall asleep satisfied.”

  He chugged the rest of his drink, leaned back and stretched his arm to set the empty cup on the dresser, then turned to face her again, holding both hands out, palms facing up. “Now how often you get a chance like this, ma’am?” he quietly asked.

  “Never would be that answer.” She stood, set her cup on the dresser, and headed for the bathroom. “Stay right there.” He heard her in the bathroom. After she finished and washed her hands, she returned and pulled her phone and wallet from her back pockets and set them on the desk.

  Then she stripped her belt from the loops on her shorts. Returning to the bed, she sat on the end and patted her lap. “Facedown, sweetie. A little warmup first to see how much you can really take.” She set the belt off to the side, next to her.

  His heart raced, relief filling him as he stood. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He wobbled a little, reaching out to steady himself just for her hand to grab his.

  “Y’all okay?”

  “I will be soon, ma’am.”

  He stretched out over her lap, relieved that, for tonight, he wouldn’t have to think about seeking out one of those leather Tops. He’d hoped the guy she’d been hanging with would have paid attention to him, struck up a conversation with him. He could nearly always convince one of the vanilla-looking guys to give him a spanking, once he got them interested enough to follow him back to his room. Yeah, his looks turned off a lot of the safer-looking guys, though, thinking he was way younger than he really was.

  In his experience, a lot of the leather Tops who were single and looking didn’t want to stop at just a bare-handed spanking. They also frequently wanted to throw in a lot of banter that hit bad triggers in his soul. Triggers he knew a lot of negotiation could avoid…

  Except he didn’t have the mental strength in him to do that right now.

  He needed a nurturing kind of spanking, and wasn’t it ironic he found it in a woman?

  Really fucking drunk didn’t even begin to describe his current condition. The drunker, the better, so he could awaken in the morning, take a deep breath, and step back into his usual life.

  Until the next time he needed a night at the Toucan to try to decompress.

  Her nails raked up and down his back, his ass, her hands warm against his flesh. “Ready?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, clenching his fists and squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

  He was more than ready.

  Chapter Four

  The room was dark when the sound of a door slamming startled Kimbra awake some time during the night.

  She started to roll over when she realized two things simultaneously—that she was naked, and that she wasn’t alone in bed.

  Shhhiiiit!

  She sat up and carefully edged away from the warm, deeply sleeping lump buried under the covers next to her.

  A warm lump that had been pressed tightly against her back.

  She was still a little drunk, but not so drunk she couldn’t tell that she’d done fucked up.

  Big time.

  Oh, good fucking grief, what the hell did I do?

  She eased herself out of bed and in the dim sliver of light seeping around the edges of the curtain from the lights out in the breezeway, she was able to find her phone on the dresser and hit the button to give her some light. That also showed her it was 3:17 a.m.

  Just the top of Ivan’s head was visible where he lay swaddled under the covers and facing the other side of the bed.

  Fuck fuck fuck!

  She found her clothes, fumbled them on, almost left her wallet behind in her race to get the fuck out of there, and did a quick sweep to make sure she hadn’t left anything else behind.

  As quietly as she could, she let herself out, easing the door shut so she didn’t awaken him. The courtyard was dark, silent, and nearly empty, except for a few people quietly talking in loungers or in the pool.

  She made her way downstairs and scurried across the open expanse of courtyard to the stairs closest to her room and up again. Her hands fumbled her keycard, and for a panicked moment she thought she wouldn’t be able to get her room open until the lock finally turned green and granted her entrance.

  Closing and locking the door behind her, she threw the deadbolt and safety bar for extra measure and stood there, shaking.

  Fuck!

  Stripping, she headed for the bathroom, and there proof of her true idiocy slammed home.

  Dammit!

  After using the toilet, she jumped into the shower and cleaned up, doing mental calculations and finally relaxing. She’d only missed one day of the pill this time around, but she was almost at the end of her cycle anyway. Hell, as many times as she’d forgotten to take the pill while she was with Walt, she’d never caught pregnant with him, and they’d climbed all over each other all the damn time. The only reason she was still on it was to help control her migraines.

  After getting out of the shower, she immediately took the missed pill and tried to relax.

  This is fine. This’ll be fine.

  Except…guilt started washing in. Yes, she and Eve had an “arrangement.” But neither of them had used the option for anything other than dating, so far. And even then very rarely, and not for the past couple of years.

  Dammit.

  She turned off the lights, plunging the blue room into full darkness as she climbed into her own bed. Her pulse was finally slowing.

  This is fine.

  Except…it wasn’t. Her right hand vaguely throbbed from the spanking she’d given him, followed by using the belt on him, turning his ass deep red and making him cry as he begged for more. And then…

  She stared up at the dark ceiling.

  And.

  Fucking.

  Then.

  He’d been better than good with his tongue, but she’d wanted more and had flipped him over onto his back and rode him like a Kentucky Derby winner.

  Christ, if Eve had told her she’d fucked a guy without a condom while drunk, Kimbra would read her the riot act.

  This is fine. This will be fine.

  This is fine.

  It might not be fine after she finished talking with Eve…who would probably and rightfully chew her a new asshole for being so reckless.

  Then again, maybe this was the precipitating event Kimbra needed to shake up her world and force her to choose a new path if Eve wasn’t willing to share hers.

  She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. Finally, a snort escaped her.

  At least I fucked myself a doctor. Jeez, does this make me a cougar now?

  * * * *

  I can’t even sleep late on my weekends.

  Ivan lay there alone in bed and stared at the ceiling. In the early morning, the hotel lay quiet around him, and the blue walls made this room feel a little like a cave.

  An escape.

  He preferred the blue rooms to the green ones, and definitely over the yellow ones, which reminded him too much of the hospital roo
ms of his youth.

  His mind finally felt calm for the first time in a couple of days. Longer, even, but the last couple of days had been the worst. Especially after losing his patient Friday.

  He’d never heard Kimbra leave, so at least he had that to be thankful for. Not having to deal with whatever sober self-recriminations she might feel this morning. She seemed nice enough, and if pressed to do so in the future, yeah, he’d let her spank him again.

  It was worth it. She’d definitely known her stuff and he silently thanked her for the mental reprieve last night gave him.

  Except he didn’t have her info.

  Which was fine. Better that way, perhaps.

  Taking a long, slow deep breath in, he held it before slowly blowing it out again.

  The world was once again righted.

  Until the next time.

  He sat up, wincing at his delightfully sore ass. In some ways, it was a blessing and a curse that he hadn’t yet found the right amount of alcohol to make him drunk enough to blank out an evening’s events. The spanking, he absolutely wanted to remember.

  He didn’t need to remember Kimbra or her moans.

  Or the other things they’d done.

  All he needed to remember was the peaceful calm within him, the storms subsided for now.

  After he’d eaten her out and pulled a couple of hard orgasms out of her, she’d wanted to blow him. He’d let her, but then he’d relented and let her ride him when she wanted to climb on.

  At least he didn’t need his copy of Gray’s Anatomy to find a clitoris.

  I don’t understand why straight guys can’t figure that shit out. It’s not rocket science.

  He finally climbed out of bed. After checking the time on his phone—6:49—he dragged himself into the bathroom to use the toilet and take a shower. He’d be on the road by seven thirty.

  He didn’t need to hang around today and do late checkout because he’d found what he came for.

  Pretty much the only thing he’d come for.

  At least the knife could stay closed tonight.

  The twink with the nasally sounding horrible fake Puerto Rican accent was gone. The man who stepped out of the room twenty minutes later with his damp hair neatly combed back off his face wore jeans, a plain blue short-sleeved collared pullover, loafers, and dark sunglasses to help separate him from the rest of the world. He looked young, but closer to his real age than the twink had. He climbed into his car and debated coffee and breakfast for a moment before pulling out of the parking lot, heading north on US 19 so he could hit a drive-thru before heading south over the Skyway.

  This was a fine day. He felt even, steady.

  Calm.

  Reset.

  Desperately needed. Overall a win, in his mind, even if he’d had to do it with a woman.

  Not exactly a bad tradeoff.

  He was walking in his own front door less than an hour later. He’d taken care of laundry on Friday night, knowing he wouldn’t be in a mood to fight for a turn in the complex’s laundry room today. He could spend the rest of the afternoon tidying his tiny apartment and chilling.

  Cleaning first.

  After those fifteen minutes were up, he took another shower—a long, hot one—and climbed into bed to binge-watch Bleach. He didn’t even have a couch, because he didn’t need one. He never had company. The small table and two chairs had been a yard-sale score for twenty-five bucks. It was all the furniture he needed, other than the IKEA dresser he’d been given by a former roommate right out of med school, when the guy had moved and left it behind.

  Last two times he’d moved, he’d rented a pick-up truck from Home Depot for $19.95 an hour and had it back with change to spare. One trip. That’s how he lived—light and small.

  It kept things simple for him. Easy.

  Little to weigh him down, including relationships.

  Because if there was one thing that had been hammered home into his brain early on was that the people who claimed to love you the most were also the ones who could do the most painful and permanent damage to your soul.

  * * * *

  Kimbra awakened in her hotel room to a throbbing headache and her cell phone vibrating on the nightstand. After fumbling for her phone, she dragged it close to her face and squinted to find a text from Ron.

  Breakfast?

  Her stomach rolled at even the thought of food right now. She realized it was after ten, and checkout was noon. She’d have to get up and get moving soon.

  No. You go on. Come get me on your way out.

  Next door, from Ron’s room, she heard the door open and close again.

  She lay there for a few minutes before the night slammed back into her brain.

  Holy shit.

  She finally dragged herself out of bed and went to peek out the window. Across the courtyard, the door to the room she’d spent much of last night in stood open, a housekeeper inside and cleaning it.

  Guess no awkward morning conversation with the boy, then.

  Parts of the events were a little sketchy in her mind, but she remembered…enough.

  Including the haunted look he’d tried to hide from her when they’d first talked, maybe the thing that had most drawn her to him when she was truly honest with herself. A look she’d seen plenty of victims wear.

  Made her want to hold him in her arms and soothe his aching soul, ease his pain.

  Love him. Not even romantically, but at least as a friend or older sister.

  She suspected that might be something desperately lacking in his life.

  Whatever personal demons the boy was fighting were way more powerful than anything she could do for him with just an over-the-knee spanking, but he’d been of age, willing, had approached her…

  And he had been cute.

  I am never gonna drink that much again.

  Ever.

  By the time Ron returned from breakfast, she’d taken another shower, had consumed two cups of coffee courtesy of the room’s tiny coffeemaker, and was packed and ready to go. Fortunately, she’d already donned her sunglasses before stepping out after his knock.

  “You all right, sweetie?”

  “I’ll live. Just get me home, please. How’d things go with you and the ginger last night?”

  “They…didn’t. So what’d you do? Last I saw you, you were chatting with that twink.”

  Fortunately, she was damned good at bluffing, considering what she did for a living. Even though it left her feeling less than honest. Ron was her friend, but she wasn’t ready to talk. “I drank way too damn much, is what I did. I just want to go home.”

  “Sorry. Guess neither of us spent the night like we’d hoped we would.”

  “Nothin’ to be sorry about. Got me out of the house.”

  Fortunately, Ron was good about not needing to be hit over the head by a clue-by-four. He didn’t try to force her to talk as he drove them back to Sarasota. Instead, he kept the music on at a not-earsplitting level and softly sang along with it.

  He dropped her off at her place and Kimbra didn’t even bother to unpack her bag. Three ibuprofen later, she stripped and face-planted into bed, praying no one disturbed her.

  Part of her “agreement” with Eve was telling each other if they’d slept with anyone else. Didn’t need prior permission for it.

  Except, until now, neither of them had done anything like this before.

  She is gonna tear me a new one.

  Then again, it felt like Eve had been pulling away from her lately. Instead of feeling guilty about this, maybe she should embrace it. It would either lead to them parting ways, or maybe it would make Eve realize she was about to lose Kimbra.

  While the benefits of this arrangement had far outweighed the drawbacks for most of their time together, Kimbra had now slid off the track and into the fuck-it ditch.

  She wanted to quit living in a land of limbo, full of nothing but maybes. Did she love Eve?

  Yeah, absolutely.

  Eve said she loved Kimbra
, too.

  Except actions spoke louder than words.

  Maybe it was time to force this to a head once and for all, before she completely poisoned the well between them and they wouldn’t even be able to remain friends.

  But not today. If she texted Eve they needed to talk, it might happen today…

  Not with this damn hangover.

  She closed her eyes and tried to find some blissfully unaware comfort within sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Tuesday evening, Eve stepped onto the front porch of Wylie and Everett’s house and didn’t even have to knock. Through the living room windows, Wylie spotted her and waved her inside.

  She ate dinner with them a couple of times a week, usually. More often than she did with Kimbra, unfortunately.

  My own fault.

  Currently eating away at her was Kimbra’s text to her earlier that afternoon, asking if they could get together to talk at some point.

  Soon.

  Which Eve had dodged for now by saying sure, but she’d have to let her know when. Busy, busy, busy, you know.

  Right now, she was technically based out of an office in the same complex as Kimbra, but because of the layout and the parking, she could literally go days without seeing Kimbra if she didn’t negotiate the maze to make the effort. Fortunately, she was also spending a lot of time at her co-counsel’s main office, which was on the other side of Sarasota.

  At least her excuses about the case eating away at her free time weren’t total fabrications this week. Sure, she could work out of her main office…but it was more comfortable not having to worry if Kimbra would drop in on her or not.

  She didn’t want to know what Kimbra did last weekend.

  She didn’t want to know what Kimbra wanted to talk about.

  She didn’t want to…think. Not about this. Not right now.

  Not when she didn’t even know what she wanted.

  She loved Kimbra, yeah. But…