by Liz Adams
Then he gave her a chance to make her dream come true. “How about we finish our drinks upstairs in my room?”
The voice in her head was loud. No, of course not. You don’t go alone into a hotel room with some guy you barely know. But this wasn’t just any guy. This was Paul. This was the cutest guy from high school. He wanted to spend time with her, no one else.
Goldie bit her lip and gave a barely perceptible nod.
“Good.” He stood and offered his arm to walk arm-in-arm. “Shall we?”
She sprang to her feet and took his arm.
In the elevator, Goldie scolded herself for giving him the idea that something might happen in his room. Just by accepting his invitation, she knew she was giving him the wrong idea.
He scowled. “What’s wrong?”
“That obvious, huh?”
“You’re thinking very hard about something. Either you’re having doubts about coming up to my room or you’re working on a math problem.”
Goldie giggled, then traced the glass lip of her White Russian. “I need to be home by one a.m.”
“Don’t worry. That’s plenty of time for us to finish our drinks.”
At least she made it clear that she wasn’t spending the night. But it wasn’t enough. She had to make him understand that she wasn’t coming upstairs to make a sweaty mess of his bed sheets.
“I don’t want to go too far.”
He laughed. “Is that what you’re worried about? Relax. You can trust me on that.”
She felt a sigh of relief escape her lips. He was right. She could trust him, one of the most popular guys from her high school. And now that she made her intentions clear with him, all was good.
In the hotel room were two double beds and several pieces of luggage of different brands and colors lying open on the floor, more luggage than seemed necessary for one person. That clinched it for Goldie. He had to be rich to have this much clothes.
Paul pointed to one of the beds. “Have a seat.”
She did, and he sat across from her on the other bed just as she’d hoped he would. If he had sat next to her on the bed, that would have been as unnatural and uncomfortable as someone choosing to sit next to her in a restaurant booth instead of across from her. The closeness of the beds had their knees practically touching. His proximity called for another sip from her drink. The cool cream chilled and the vodka burned.
Paul lowered his eyes as though he were working on the right words. “There’s something you should know.” He took a deep breath. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I find you attractive.”
Goldie stiffened. So when he said “cute” he wasn’t referring to Elmo-cute. Paul’s eyes darted between her and the floor as if he were shy with checking to see her response.
“I wish I were still in high school,” he said. “Then I could see you every day.” He shook his head. “I was stupid not to notice you years ago. I didn’t realize how beautiful you’d become. I sure didn’t realize how much fun it is being with you.”
He ran his hand through her hair. She shivered and averted her eyes, too scared to reveal her excitement.
He leaned forward, his lips at her ear. “If I were still in high school, would you let me kiss you? Would you let me kiss you if there were no bad consequences for you? No classmates talking about you behind your back, no parent’s disapproval of you.”
Where were these questions coming from?
She leaned back, looked up, and his eyes locked on hers. He asked again. “Would you?”
He continued stroking her hair, each touch a light massage of her head and perhaps a testament of his love. How could she have lived this long without knowing such intimacy?
Her response was quiet. “Yes.”
He took her drink out of her hand and stepped to the dresser. “Goldie, you and I are in a world that moves faster than anyone can track.” He set both drinks down. “People are born and die everyday. In a hundred years, what we do one day, one night, will be completely forgotten.” He returned to sit on the bed across from her and took her hands in his. “Forever of no significance to anyone. Except to me.”
He moved close to her and kissed her lips softly. Goldie never knew parts of her could drip away the way they were dripping now.
He placed a hand on her bare leg and whispered with a warm breath against her ear. “Knowing that. Knowing there were no consequences for you,” his hand rose up under her miniskirt, “would you let me touch you here?”
What happened to the plan of not going too far? It seemed to melt away along with the rest of her body. “Yes,” she breathed. Goldie felt his fingertip slide along the thin strip of her panties between her legs. She collapsed her head on his shoulder. His fingers, Paul’s fingers, were touching her in her most intimate of places. Was he just looking to get laid? Was he asking for a one-night stand? Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe she could please him enough to make him want to see her the next day, and the next, and the next. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe that every loving relationship started with a first night of love.
“Goldie, tell me you would. If there were only you and me, and nothing else mattered, and if we could start off on an adventure of our own, tell me you would let me touch your bare skin here.” He hooked aside her panties and twirled his fingertip in circles around her clit. Her breathing heaved, sparks of belief sizzled inside. Yes. Ultimately nothing mattered. Just now. Just Paul. Just enjoying this moment. And every loving relationship started with a moment of loving.
He took her hand. “If no one else mattered. Just you and me. Right now. Starting our own adventure. Would you touch me here?” He pressed her hand on his pants, on his cock. OMG! She was touching him. It grew harder under her squeeze. He kissed her and moved forward off of his bed, gently pushing her down onto her back.
She couldn’t believe this was happening. All those nights dreaming of Paul, picturing him embracing her and making love to her, the fantasies felt like preparation for the real thing. Tonight he really would embrace her and make love to her.
He practically ripped her clothes off and broke one of the straps of her top. She said nothing about it. There was no way he could have known she wore her best clothes. He roughly tweaked her nipples like he was unscrewing them off of her. It hurt, but it was what he wanted and that’s what mattered most.
He stood up, unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and let them fall to his ankles. “Would you please suck me off? I’d love it if you did.”
Anything for you. Goldie got on her knees and cradled him in her hand to kiss his length. She licked from base to tip to honor him.
He moaned.
She took his head between her lips to worship him.
He grabbed her hair.
She twirled her tongue around him to cherish him.
He groaned.
She took him deep down her throat to love him.
He weaved his fingers in her hair, held her head in his hands, and slammed his cock into her mouth.
She gagged.
He forced his waist right up against her nose, fisting her hair.
She coughed.
He held her there, his cock muffling her ability to tell him to release her.
She choked.
He cried out and shot what felt like a gallon of salty cum down her throat.
She swallowed as much as she could to avoid spitting out the whole mess all over the place. Cum still spilled from her lips down her chin.
The door opened. Two young men walked in.
Goldie covered her breasts.
“Hey guys!” Paul said. “You gotta tap this! It’s incredible!” He turned to Goldie. “These are my roommates. You don’t mind, do you Gertie?”
When that happened, she had grabbed her clothes and had run out the door barely able to see the hall through the blur of the tears in her eyes. Getting the love and attention she needed from a man? That had been just a fairy tale.
Now, Goldie embraced her l
over Christina in bed, a woman who cared about Goldie enough to never hurt her.
Christina nourished Goldie’s breasts with attention and love, Christina’s lips kissing her nipples. Goldie released a juicy sigh.
When Goldie cut herself off from the life of a thief, it meant returning to a life of worrying about money. In San Francisco, she got a job at a pet store doing customer service, or more specifically, a J.O.B. whose salary kept her Just Over Broke. She told herself that money had nothing to do with her worth as a person, but she knew the truth. Wealth was everything in this world. Wealth was the elixir for all ailments.
During the first week in San Francisco, she worked at her job and a coat of clay crust hardened around her soul. After the third week, the coat thickened and her soul silently suffocated.
With gentle fingers, Christina entered Goldie’s core. Christina locked eyes with her, penetrating her heart. Goldie felt her body spin with desire, feeling cherished by her lover. This was what Goldie needed. This feeling that she could be cared for and appreciated for who she was. Even if the feeling was temporary.
Since Goldie could no longer have that easy life of wealth, she needed to at least feel loved. But love was just a fairytale. At least with a man. Maybe there was an exceptional man out there who really would put his lover before himself and care about his lover’s feelings, but she had to face it. She would never meet such a man, much less an unmarried one.
Goldie felt herself rising higher at the thrusts of Christina’s fingers. Soon the building tension that Christina weaved into Goldie’s body burst into a convulsion. Goldie grabbed the bed sheets in her fists, squeezed her thighs together around Christina’s hand, throbbed and pulsed around Christina’s fingers, and filled the room with shouts of pleasure. Then, the illusion of a happily ever after ended and Goldie settled down back into reality: a poor woman in the arms of a loved one she couldn’t stay with. Her smothered soul died.
Goldie let herself at least relish the present love Christina gave her, being held in Christina’s arms. One day Goldie would have to leave her if Goldie’s life of crime caught the attention of the San Francisco Police Department. Always being on the run prevented Goldie from getting close to anyone, man or woman. At first, Christina asked too many questions about her past. But after their first week together, the questions stopped. Christina seemed to realize this relationship would likely be only temporary.
Goldie fell asleep in Christina’s arms.
In the middle of the night, Goldie awoke to her cell phone ringing.
Christina mumbled, “What time is it?”
Goldie checked. Who would be calling at 4:30 in the morning? “It’s early. Go back to sleep.”
Christina turned over in bed and ignored the noise.
Goldie checked the cell phone display. It was her mother. She answered. “Mom? Is everything all right?”
“Hi, Goldie. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
***
In the morning, Goldie kissed her lover goodbye when Christina prepared to leave for work. Goldie knew it would be their last kiss.
Christina scowled. “Everything alright?”
“Never better. Have an easy day at work.”
“Good. See you tonight.”
When Christina left the building, Goldie peered out the window and watched her cross the street and turn the corner. The last she would ever see of Christina.
Goldie needed money. Fast. The only solution was to do one last job, one big job that would cover not only the hospital bills but also help Goldie back to the lifestyle of wealth she missed so much. That meant finding someone who wouldn’t miss the money.
Goldie lay in bed and opened her laptop. The studio apartment was too small to have any furniture other than a bed. At least going online felt like she was leaving her room and traveling to other places. She did a search for “generous donations.” An article that peaked her interest was a donation of over seven million dollars made to an orphanage in Chicago to not only save it from being shut down, but also help pay for the desperate renovations it needed. The donation was made anonymously. Goldie decided to give them a call.
“Harwood Orphans Home, may I help you?”
To play the part better, Goldie imagined herself sitting in a cubicle with her hands at the keyboard of a computer. “Yes, I’m a reporter with the Chicago Tribune and I understand you received a generous donation from someone last March?”
“That’s right. We were so fortunate.”
“Did you ever find out who made the donation?”
“You know, I’ve been wondering who it was ever since that cashier’s check came in the mail. After the article came out in the papers, we got calls from several local establishments who received generous donations from the same anonymous person. They asked me the same thing you asked me. We all would love a chance to thank the mysterious philanthropist.”
“I completely understand. How do you know that the donations all came from the same person?”
“The same P.O. Box return address was on the envelopes.”
Goldie’s heart fluttered. “May I have that P.O. Box, please?”
“Certainly. Let me see if I can find it.” The sound of papers shuffling carried over the phone line. “Here it is.” The lady read Goldie the P.O. Box address. “If you ever find out who the mysterious donor is, would you call back and let me know?”
“I most certainly will. Thank you very much.”
***
Lying on the forest floor, Goldie kept watch of the mansion down in the distance and ignored the sticks poking her stomach and elbows. Once she had found out about the post office box, she knew it was just a matter of time before she’d locate the anonymous donator. Staking out the post office with the donator’s post office box had been easy but boring. After a few days of sitting on an uncomfortable bench beside the post office boxes, a tall and well-built man opened the box she had her eyes on. She followed the man’s Porsche to a mansion and only later learned the man she followed was the butler. Probably picking up his master’s mail.
Now she lay on a hill across from the mansion looking down upon it. Though Goldie wanted to act fast and rob the place, she needed to get her hands on special equipment which meant either locating the right local businesses that sold such equipment, or ordering online and waiting for the items to arrive. Waiting had its benefits. It gave her ample time to stake out the mansion, learn the routines of the men who lived there, and figure out the weaknesses of the mansion’s alarm system.
She adjusted the binoculars and high-directional microphones focused on one of the mansion’s massive first-floor windows. Though she couldn’t see the entire interior of the living room, she could make out most of it. Today was the first day she’d actually heard the voices of the men inside. The thirty-something cutie, who looked so much like Gary she called him Ace, sat at the bizarre contraption again. In front of him splayed a wall of monitors and devices she couldn’t identify. He held a set of headphones to one ear. The younger one Goldie called Dusty dried his sweaty face with a towel as he approached Ace from behind.
“It’s about time you joined me at the club,” Dusty said breathing heavily. Judging from his damp undershirt, royal blue sweats, and glistening muscles, he probably just finished a workout. “When was the last time you danced with a woman?” He looked at his gold watch. “No, wait. Don’t tell me. Let me estimate. Seven hours and fifteen…years?”
“Don’t give me reason to change my mind.” The voice of Ace was faint. She tweaked the position of the microphones to see if she could capture Ace’s voice better. It worked. His voice became clearer. “I’m only going tonight to appease your annoying complaining.”
Dusty rolled his head around from shoulder to shoulder, then brought his hand to the back of his neck, probably to ease the tension built up from the workout. “What’s wrong with doing it all the time?”
“You know as well as I do that we cannot risk relationships with women. Too dange
rous.” Ace scanned the monitors in front of him. “Remember, if we open ourselves up to—”
“Yeah, yeah. And the dish ran away with the spoon.” Dusty stepped up to where Ace was sitting. “Why are you checking the alarm system?”
“It’ll be the first time in a while that all three of us are out of the house.” Ace tweaked some knobs and switches. “I just want to be sure the house is protected.”
“I can’t believe how paranoid you are sometimes.” Dusty took off his undershirt.
Goldie adjusted her binoculars. Those muscles rippled, sending waves so strong she could feel them between her legs. She muttered to herself, “Down, girl.”
Dusty stepped out of the line of vision. “I’m taking a shower.”
She scrambled for the infrared attachment to help her see through the walls. Not exactly necessary viewing for what she had scheduled later on, but who said work had to be boring?
Following the blue and green glowing body image contrasted against the black background, Goldie watched Dusty go into the bathroom. Infrared vision had its benefits. She could still make out his silhouette behind the wall. This had to be his third shower of the day. Having cased the isolated mansion in the hills over the past three weeks, she noticed he was always taking showers. That was why she nicknamed him Dusty. On Day Three she realized he was using the showers as his own personal jack off time. And that was the start of this mansion being the best job she’d ever taken on.
She watched Dusty’s colorful silhouette strip off his sweatpants and start the shower. The trouble with the shower was that the hot water showed up on her infrared binoculars, too. It made seeing Dusty more challenging. Since the binoculars picked up anything that gave off a heat signature, the combination of Dusty’s body heat and the hot water made the image less of a man’s body and more of a column of burgundy red. Goldie knew the blur of color was only temporary.
