by Conn, Claudy
He unlocked the door to suite 201, handed her the key, dropped her bag inside the door with a grunt, and turned to leave, ignoring her outstretched hand with the ten-dollar bill in it.
As he sauntered back down the hall, he called over his shoulder in a bored voice, “If you need anything, anything at all, just ring the front desk. Dial “0” anytime day or night and they will connect you with whomever is available.”
“Wait,” she called, “Your name?”
“Kirk.” He growled as he said it, disappearing around the corner, preventing her from saying anything else without actually chasing after him.
Entering the room, Tasha marveled at the beautiful high ceilings, the elegant decor, and the huge windows that looked out to an incredible view of the back of the mountains rather than the ski hill itself. She had requested this side of the Chalet; she wanted to be alone, away from all the other guests, to enjoy the view rather than watch the skiers going up and down the hills.
She had chosen this Chalet partly for that reason, and because her best friend Raylene had recommended it, having been there before. It was a quiet place where she hoped to finally get a break, and get some much-needed work done on her new book.
Feeling a little grimy from the four-hour flight and the two-hour drive up the mountain, she wanted a shower, badly. Stripping off the tight skirt and calf-high boots with a sigh of relief, she padded her way into the bathroom in her shirt and thong. Starting the water in the large shower, her thoughts flashed back to the guy at the desk, Kirk he had said his name was. Dropping her shirt and panties on the floor, she grabbed a towel and set it on the side of the vanity where she could reach it.
Damn, he was the hottest piece of man meat she had seen in a very long time! Stepping through the glass door and under the spray of the hot water, Tasha moaned at how good it felt to have the heat sluicing down her aching body.
She visualized Kirk's tight ass, the way it wiggled just a little as his strong legs had carried him down the hallway. His back had rippled with the swing of his arms in a way that almost made her drool.
Not one of those buffed up jerks she usually met, the ones who were so full of themselves they seemed almost shocked when she denied their various requests for dates, or the more rude ones who just offered themselves to her for what they referred to as a 'perfect fuck session', he'd piqued her interest.
Whatever, they were not her type. This, seemingly shy, almost moody creature sheltered here in the Chalet certainly was, though, and she had every intention of plying him to her will. She wanted him; and what Tasha Kingsley wanted, she usually got, one way or another. Her stubbornness: a good thing when it worked for her, but one of her worst qualities when it didn't.
Grabbing the soap, she began to run the sweet vanilla and cinnamon scented bar over her perky breasts, wishing his hands caressed the pale globes instead of hers. In the steam of the bathroom, luxuriating in the heat and the fragrance of one of her favorite soaps, she continued her little reverie. Her nipples puckered as she ran the creamy brick over them, begging for more attention. She pinched one tight bud between her thumb and forefinger, giving it a little tug and moaning with the surge of sensation that made its way through her belly and down to her pussy. Following the same path, she worked her hand down her ribcage, across her smooth, tight belly, stopping only long enough to swirl her finger around the loop of her belly button ring.
She had gotten the belly ring on a dare by her best friend, Raylene, this past summer. They had both had the piercing done, and she had actually loved the little silver hoop ever since. She treasured the way it looked when she gazed at herself in the mirror, a little piece of glinting silver marking the spot of her sensitive belly button. The way it felt when she lay in bed at night playing with it, turning it around and around, occasionally giving it a little tug, sending a trickle of sensation to her nether region, similar to the ones she was getting now, stimulating in a way her other piercings weren't. She wasn't going to complain about anything that heightened her sexual sensitivity, that's for sure.
Tasha had discovered she liked certain things, specific little types of pain as a prelude to sex, and with the right partner, even during sex.
Mentally visualizing how Kirk’s broad chest would look and feel under her hands as she stroked his expansive chest, she found the little bump of her clit between the folds of her labia, and began to stroke the tip of her finger back and forth over the little nub, plucking it gently between her thumb and forefinger on occasion.
Lost in her mindless dream of the counter guy, Tasha hardly realized she was alone; she almost felt as if he were there with her, could smell his musky, manly scent, feel his thick, dark hair as she envisioned running her hands through his curls, pulling him closer to her, wanting him to lick her, suck her...hard.
Slipping one digit inside her slick wetness, Tasha began to pump herself, imagining he knelt between her legs, suckling her clit, his fingers driving relentlessly into her heated core. Oh God. So good. Feeling the tingling sensation start to overcome her, indicating her impending release, dreaming of his searing mouth, she pumped her hand faster, slipping in a second finger alongside the first. Her womb tightened, her muscles clamped down on the intrusion within her core, and with a loud cry, she released her juices all over her hand as she climaxed.
Tasha was one of those women lucky enough to know her own body very well, better then most of the guys she had ever known. She knew just what to do to make herself come, but it was not the same; never the same as the feel of a hard, throbbing hot cock thrusting inside her. She needed a man, and soon.
Her breathing returning to normal, she turned off the shower, noticing that for once hot water still ran when she had finished one of her orgasmic cleansings.
Lately that was all she had been doing, pleasing herself, as there seemed to be a lack of decent men in her life. They were all married and looking for affairs, which she really didn’t care to get into on the long term. A few times she'd stumbled upon gay men who'd claimed they wanted to try a woman for a change, but really just to get revenge upon their latest partner for leaving them. Other than that, she simply met just plain crackpots, nut jobs, or even recovering drug addicts. She was just not interested.
Rubbing her supple body briskly with the thick, white, hotel towel, her mind once again flashed back to thoughts of the delicious counter agent, and her plan to get him into her bed. Worst-case scenario with him, if her sense of him was wrong, and the sex was terrible, she got to leave at the end of the weekend. It promised to be kind of a perfect set-up, really. A simple, no-strings-attached weekend with a really attractive guy. Assuming there was no Mrs. Kirk on the premises, that is.
Chapter Two
Pulling the little red dress with the white fur cresting around the neckline out of her handbag, she thanked god for the no wrinkle material it was made from. Not that it really mattered much, as it simply looked painted on when she slipped it over her head, not bothering with a bra as her perky but full breasts seemed to do just fine holding up on their own, despite her age. She grabbed a matching lace thong, complete with the same soft, white trim, and slid them up her smooth, shapely legs, then slipped her feet into the high-heeled shoes that matched the outfit.
Locking the door behind her, she dropped the magnetic key into her tiny, red purse and began to saunter up the hallway. She made a quick stop at the desk to inquire the location of the conference room, only to be disappointed to find Kirk not there. With a little pout on her lips, she followed the directions the female desk clerk had given her.
Arriving in the conference room, Tasha looked around and marveled at all the absolutely gorgeous women in the room, some on the arm of equally sexy-looking men but most just in groups with other women. She supposed they had to be great looking, though; who ever heard of an ugly model? Tasha silently wished she were young again, and looked even half as good as the women there. No wonder I can’t find a man anymore, I'm just too old.
Hea
ving a sigh, she moved over to the roped off area where Santa and the models were going to be that night. She was to play the part of Mrs. Claus to Santa, who also happened to be her best friend’s husband, since his usual partner in crime at these events had apparently fallen ill. Raylene had just given birth to their youngest child –a beautiful girl with dark hair– only weeks ago, so she could not do the gig. So, Tasha had agreed to be there.
An easy two hundred bucks for a couple hours work, and the job only required her attendance on the first night of her stay, so she'd said 'why not.' She doubted she would be in much shape to write after the long trip up, and she had gotten some writing done on the first plane anyway, so she had effectively made the time available. Besides, she needed the money. As an author of erotic romance books, she was finding it more and more difficult to find work these days.
There were just too many books already out there, and too many new writers. The rag mags, which she had done some work for from time to time, despite not being something she felt quite met her skill level, were looking for new, fresh, and cheaper writers for their publications. She just couldn’t do that kind of sporadic, cheap work anymore. It didn’t pay the bills.
Her new book was shaping up to be one hell of a great vampire-based erotic novel, or so her editor, Brad, had told her, and she kind of felt it in her bones as well. Brad had rarely been wrong before, so she didn’t doubt him now.
Glancing at the wall clock, Tasha wondered what was keeping Erik. He usually had his entourage there early to set things up. Especially since they would be taking photographs with the models and he was always so meticulous about everything being perfect.
Her gaze traveled toward the door in search of Erik, and she was not surprised to see Kirk leaning against the doorjamb chatting with one of the buxom blondes. The woman was probably more his type, but Tasha was stubborn and wanted him. She would find a way.
Finally! Erik and the rest of his group filed in the room from a side door, catching her attention. As the others began to set up their photography equipment, Erik made his way through the room full of people. Pulling up alongside her, he gave her a quick, tight hug and a peck on the cheek.
“Tasha, how are you, my dear?”
“Bored, horny, and sore from the damn cold airplane ride and bumpy drive up here. Why didn’t you tell me it was such a shitty ride up the mountain? You know I would not have agreed so easily.” Tasha flashed him a frown, but returned the affectionate hug and kiss.
“Exactly. And I needed you. By the way, there’s been another small change in the plan tonight. I will not be doing the Santa thing myself. Apparently they have a regular guy who does it for the town, and he just happened to be available at no cost to me, which works better. I prefer to be behind the camera for this shoot, not in front of it. Don’t let it worry you, though. He’s cool.”
Great, some old geezer putting his hands on my ass all night. Not exactly a warm up for her later plans. Giving Erik a growl, she moved to sit on the Santa chair and peruse the room while she waited. She noticed Kirk no longer stood in the doorway. Damnit! Does the man ever stay in one spot? Probably went off somewhere with the blonde. The fake-titted flirt had better not screw things up for me or I am never going to get laid. With another deep sigh and a frown marring her features, she plopped herself backward into the oversized chair.
“Excuse me, I believe you are sitting in my chair.” A deep voice growled.
Tasha jumped, unaware of the natural bounce of her breasts as she did so. “Sorry.” She flashed a smile at the big red and white velvet ball of jolly standing before her.
As his glittering gaze flicked to her chest and remained there, she groaned. Damn, she had drawn his attention to her already. This was going to be a long couple of hours.
Just as she was about to ask this Santa his name, Erik signaled they were to take their places and begin the shoot. As model after model came up and sat on Santa’s knee, Tasha read out their names and handed Santa the gifts they were to receive. Not once did he grab her during the shoot, for which she was grateful.
She was lost in thought over her plan to get that hot piece of man meat, Kirk, into her room and her bed shortly. She could almost feel those work-roughened hands on her skin already…caressing over her hips, dipping between her legs.
Tasha stared dreamily into the camera; unaware she had an almost sexually satisfied look on her face for the whole shoot.
“That’s a wrap!” Erik shouted, startling Tasha out of her reverie. Sighing, grateful to be done, she leaned down to take off her shoes. Her feet throbbed in the new pumps.
Crack! Tasha almost fell over with the force of the hand across her ass.
“What the hell!” She spun around to see the satisfied smirk of Santa as he winked at her over his shoulder and walked away. Shaking her head, she could not help but smile to herself at the man’s audacity, and she had never even gotten his name.
***
Kirk smiled at her through the itchy beard and moustache of the Santa outfit, knowing full well she had no idea who hid beneath it. In a better mood, now, he had been having some interesting visions about what he would do with that scorching hot, red and white decked out body of Mrs. Claus if he had his way. The woman was sex in high-heels personified.
The whole photo session she had stood beside him with a seductive look on her face. A damned searing look that sent some interesting images rushing through his mind, and stimulating him all the way down to his cock. A look he imagined he would see if her were to make her suffer through an intense, mind-numbing climax. After two hours of smelling her spicy scent above the perfumed bodies of the models on his lap, and watching her bend over to get each of the gifts from under the tree, providing him with an occasional tantalizing glimpse of her bare thighs and the bottom of the tightest ass he had seen on a woman his age in a while–adorned by the barest scrap of a red thong just visible beneath the skirt of the outfit–he was as hard as a rock.
Thankfully, the padding of the Santa outfit afforded him some protection from his bulge being noticed by the models sitting in his lap.
Kirk began to hatch a plan on just how he might get to feel that firm ass under his hands. He wanted to smell her skin, trail kisses up those incredible, silky-looking, pale thighs, and lick that little bit of red cloth wedged between the two rounded globes. God, he was so turned on by the woman he felt like a damn teenager spouting raging hormones in puberty! He groaned and pushed a hand down the front of the suit in an attempt to shift the hardness pressing against his zipper. Give your head a shake, man. Act like an adult before you end up scaring the woman off, for Pete's sake.
He had been quite thrilled to find out she was not one of the models, after all, rather an author who was simply doing a favor for a friend while she came up for a weekend vacation, according to Erik, whom he had chatted with for a few minutes before he’d gone to get dressed. For some reason, it mattered to him. He had no idea why, but it made his initial reaction to her seem a whole lot more interesting, and he intended to find out what it was about her that had set his heart to thumping, his temperature rising, and his mind to wandering into naughty places it shouldn't, resulting in the swelling firmness in his jeans.
Chapter Three
Tasha opened the door to her suite, tossed her purse and the card key on the bed, and went directly to the phone. She grabbed the handset and dialed “0” to get the front desk. After telling the clerk she was in need of a masseur, she sat down to wait.
Geez, she must really be more in need of a man than she thought. She could not get the feel of Santa's hand cracking across her ass out of her head. She wouldn’t mind feeling it again, in fact. Perhaps on more than just her ass. These new thoughts sent Tasha’s contemplation off in a new direction; the direction of the jolly man with the firm hand and finding out just what was under that suit.
Her deliberating wandered back and forth between Kirk and the guy who played the Santa for the shoot. Something about both of
them was bugging her. Kirk had been offhand, almost nasty with her when he spoke, intriguing her for some reason with his attitude. Then this Santa had given her a self-assured smack on the ass that would have most women screaming at him, but had her fantasizing about fucking him instead. She'd already gathered by his strutting gait that he wasn't some old man like she'd expected, and now she entertained thoughts of both men? What the hell, I really must be hard up. I'm getting to the point where any cock will do, apparently. Sighing, she mentally chastised herself for allowing her libido to get out of hand and take over. She seriously needed to do something, and soon, but she wasn't that bad off, yet, and she needed to start acting like she had some self-respect at least. Before you know it I'll be throwing myself at the first dick to walk by, begging him to pound me at this rate. Ugh.
It had been almost as if Santa had read her mind about the kind of guy she'd been daydreaming about, though. She'd spent most of the shoot woolgathering about the guy behind the high, dark wood counter, his broad chest and presumably tight abs pouring into hips that housed a rather nice, large package between them, and praying the vibes she’d picked up from Kirk were real: a self assured, dominant man who knew how to please a woman. A smack like that could only have come from that type of man, instinctively sensing she was a submissive type woman who would not take offence to it and smack him back, across the face, but rather one who would like that type of rough foreplay. So who was Santa, and where the hell had Kirk disappeared to? Was it possible they were one in the same? Nah, Kirk had been too much of a grouch to play the jolly fat man in the red suit, right?
