When he awoke to shards of sunlight coming through the outer edges of the drapes, he realized that he hadn’t moved since falling back to the bed after their second bout. His hand still gripped the base of his cock and everything in the vicinity was wet to the point of being chilly in that arena. He shifted onto his side, looked at Callie, feet still facing the drapes but her legs shifted off to the side with her hands tucked under her cheek. God she was beautiful.
In slow increments he raised himself and lifted off the bed. Housekeeping was going to talk about this room for days. He made his way to the bathroom where he coaxed his hard-on to face the porcelain before sliding back the wavy glass door and stepping into the shower. Cold, hot, then cold again, he did it all while using the tiny sliver of soap to wash up. Stepping out, he dried his massive chest, all dark curls and muscle, before stooping to dry his hairy legs from the ankles up. It was a form of toe touches for him and the way he limbered up for the day, stretching out his back and forcing his hamstrings and calves to go taut.
Then he sat out on the small patio sipping orange juice and watching some college girls playing volleyball. It was just after ten and the sun was working its away toward full and high. How they played in such skimpy bikinis without losing them, he never knew. But he enjoyed the prospect of that very thing happening to the busty one in the orange Speedo. He wondered if she liked to take it in that bubble of a rear. His eyes roved over the others, and he imagined them, each in turn: sucking his cock; on all fours at the end of a bed; and tied to a whipping pole at his old SM club in San Diego.
He’d left that life a few years back, taking with him years of experience in bringing both pleasure and pain—and a wealth of knowledge about a woman’s body, and of course a collection of some very inventive tools to make sex play ever so much better for both partners. A few of them he planned on using on Caliente in the upcoming days if she’d go for it. And after the scene they’d run through last night, he was pretty sure she’d be amenable. More so than he’d first imagined when he’d grabbed his bag of toys for this trip.
His thoughts reverted to the woman he left sleeping soundly on the bed behind him. He recalled last night and her overwhelming desire to exhibit herself. He had an extensive background in psychology and had even taken some classes given by a world-renowned sex therapist. Living in southern California and attending Stanford for a few years had certainly broadened his knowledge about women and sexuality in general. So had the Tantric Sex courses at UCLA. But how could he use that knowledge to help this woman—this very responsive, dichotomy of a woman?
On the outside she seemed cool, calm and dignified. But once you got her passions up she became a wanton, careless strumpet. It would be so easy for someone to abuse her, or for her to abuse herself. He tapped his fingers against the icy glass. She definitely had something going on there with her desire to display herself. The facing-the-window-and-showing-it all-to-anyone-who-cared-to-look thing she had going on last night was over the top, that was for sure.
From his experience and from what he’d read about exhibitionism, it usually stemmed from one event—one traumatic, impressionable, life-changing event. For most women, the way they were approached or treated during adolescence set the tone for the type of sex they wanted, needed, or could not tolerate. But often, the memories came from an earlier time. Little girl babies could even be affected by the way their daddies or an older brother changed their diapers.
He could see how easily that scenario could have happened with Callie. A precocious, but clearly adorable little two-year-old squirming on a changer, a father holding her open while wiping her, coating her with a layer of Desitin, stopping to admire and whisper how happy a young man was going to be with her sweet pussy when she grew up. All initially innocent—or possibly not—but getting stuck in a mind that consciously could not even remember the moment. Unconsciously, the moment had the power to shape things for years to come. That was basically what human sexuality was all about, experiences—the good and the bad, built up over the formative years.
He wondered if Caliente had a brother. Older brothers could be wicked. He knew this firsthand. In college he’d heard tales of sisters abused by older brothers; siblings made to entertain friends, cousins, or teachers; mentally challenged innocents being drugged and then sold on Saturday nights to the highest bidders just so a stepbrother could have some extra spending money. He didn’t have any siblings, but had missed having them so much that he knew he would have cherished a little sister, even a little brother.
Funny, now that he thought of it though, he had never imagined himself as the younger sibling. He took another swig of his orange juice and focused again on the heated game in front of him. He would have to ask Callie about her family, see if there were any clues there.
The ball was spiked high then slammed down with such force that it ricocheted off an elbow and made its way toward him. One handedly he grabbed for it and caught it in a firm grip. One of the girls looked over at him and then ran toward him. It was the one in the orange suit. God is good.
As she drew close she gave him a coy smile and asked, “What do I have to do to get my ball back?”
He couldn’t resist. “Show me your tits and it’s all yours.”
As if it was the most natural thing in the world to her, she pulled her top down and let him look at her bountiful breasts. After the initial shock of her actually doing it, he stared, mouth agape for a few moments before tossing her the ball. She turned, tossed it back into play and then faced him again. Walking backward ever so slowly, she drew her straps to her shoulders. “If there’s something else you’d like to see, you just let me know.” Then she turned and ran back onto the beach, her little butt puckering as she ran back to her team.
Maybe Callie’s issues with displaying herself so graphically weren’t as bad as he thought. That young woman had had absolutely no qualms about displaying her charms to a complete stranger.
He heard a noise behind him and looked over his shoulder. “Hey sunshine, you’re up.”
“And not a moment too soon I see. I was about to get kicked out of bed and replaced.”
He stood up and took her into his arms, loving the feel of her in her plush robe, “Never, she was too young. I prefer my women to have a bit more experience. And although her tits were nice, they were a bit too big, don’t you think?” He gave her a lopsided grin that only served to make him more devilish looking.
“I thought where you guys were concerned, there was no such thing as tits too big.”
“When they smack you in the face when she’s on top, they’re too big.”
She laughed and snuggled into his chest.
“Ready for some breakfast?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m starving.”
He spun her around and smacked her on her bottom, “Well get yourself showered and dressed and I’ll feed you.”
She saw that he was already shaved and dressed in shorts and a tank top. “How long have you been up?”
“A few hours. I don’t sleep much these days. Got used to not getting much sleep overseas,” he said, then he winked at her, “you play havoc on my sleep cycle too.” He had kept her up late into the night finding all her pleasure zones and exploiting them. When he had gathered her up beside him, her back to his chest, and dozed off it had been well after two.
He drove to the International House of Pancakes on the mainland, and over breakfast began asking her questions about her family.
“So you were an only child, like me?”
“Yup. Momma said they broke the mold with me. But I think by the time I came along, she thought she was too old for any more.”
“How old was she?”
“Thirty-eight, my dad was forty.”
“That’s not so old. So where are they now?”
“My mom lives
in Aberdeen, not too far from the base. At least she did last time I saw her, she’s been known to move around a bit. My dad died when I was nineteen.”
A wave of sadness clouded her eyes, but at the same time he saw something else, was it shame? Could he have possibly called this one right with his out-in-left-field idiotic imagination?
“How’d he die?”
“I disappointed him, and he didn’t take it well. Look, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. So when’s the last time you saw your mom?”
“Christmas, two years ago.”
“She didn’t come to your wedding?”
“We aren’t close. And it was a quick ceremony on post. Clint was scheduled to deploy in a few weeks.”
“So, did you ever in your wildest dreams think you’d be an army wife?” he asked as he forked a bite of pancakes into his mouth.
“No, I didn’t. I thought I’d be a spinster librarian.” She took a swipe of the whipped cream from the pancake platter that had just been put in front of her then licked the thick cream off her finger.
Rand felt every muscle harden. He cleared his throat. Suddenly it was dry. He reached for his juice. “Why spinster?”
“None of my relationships ever seemed to last. I think I scared them away with my neediness.”
“I haven’t seen anything I can’t handle,” he said with a grin.
“I suspect you’re already into or have at least tried some of the things I tried to get my boyfriends to consider.”
“Oh, I cannot wait to see this list. Finish up, I’m ready for a nice long walk on the beach. I need to shave first, I didn’t get a chance earlier.”
“I’ll shave you.”
“I don’t mean my legs.”
“I know.”
He grabbed the check, stood and put his hand out to pull her from the booth. With his hand on the small of her back, he bent and whispered in her ear, “I may do a more thorough job than your husband would like, but I want you naked there. I want to be able to see, touch, and taste everything.”
He felt a shiver go up her spine and he smiled to himself. Oh yes, he’d make them both very happy in that arena. Clint be damned.
Chapter Ten
Before either his hand or his penis became chapped, Garrett clicked out of the file he had previously copied to his hard drive and inserted the flash drive he’d found. He navigated to a file he remembered seeing, an older version of Quicken, and double clicked on the icon. If there was going to be any personal information on this little magic wonder, it would be in the financials. And he was a master at reading financials.
He clicked from page to page, digging deeper into subcategories and extrapolating information from the entries. There was only one account set up in the program. It appeared to be a checking account combined with a debit card. It had been initiated as Nations Bank and was maintained through to the present—the last entry July 12th of this year. Scrolling through he noted that there was no break in the service so he had to assume whoever it was had kept the same bank account. He knew that Nations bank had merged and was now Bank of America. Could it be any harder? Just about the largest bank in the country. Great!
There was no personal information listed, not even the account number in the appropriate place. Of course not, that would have been too easy.
The beginning balance in 1999 had been $2,324. The ending balance on July 12th, was a whopping $97,812—a tidy little sum for an account that seemed to be more of a household account than anything else.
Painstakingly, he read each entry, going from the bottom up. After two hours he had these “clues” noted on the pad beside his laptop:
Prefers Food Lion to Lowe’s/ Wal-Mart and Harris Teeter only occasionally
Costco over Sam’s Club
Is not at all particular about where she gets her gas
Is definitely a she, no man spends this much money on shoes at the Reebok Outlet, The Shoe Store, The Sandal Shop, and FootSmart
Spends less than $100 annually on booze—either she’s a teetotaler or she’s into beer or wine and buys it while grocery shopping
Favorite restaurants are: Grapevine, Purple Onion, Provision Company, Osaka, El Cerro Grande, Applebee’s, La Cucina, anything with Pizza in the name
Shops at Belk, Dillards, Coldwater Creek, Amazon, FootSmart, and occasionally The Dollar Store
Goes to Holden Brothers or Annie Gray’s Fruit Stand every other week or so
Frequents Dr. Pam Owens in sporadic intervals—no way to plot a date for future visits
Ditto Totally Chic for hair where she always has “cut/color” on the memo line
Averages $350/month to BEMC for electricity, which would indicate a larger home, at least in this county, $120 or more for water at BCPU, so she probably has sewer, not septic and waters her lawn fairly frequently
No entries for car repairs. So she either has a late model car still under warranty, has a maintenance plan, or she just doesn’t drive
No purchase over twelve years and no payments, so the money comes from another account, or again, she just doesn’t drive
Odds and Ends:
Buys nice sheets at Linens and Things $380 noted as just sheets indicates premium quality, large quantity or improperly categorized
Paid someone a hefty amount for olive oil—$280, name on check just initials (S.R.) Must have come directly from Italy in huge tins, someone traveling?
Ahh . . . a hint at age. Tampons/Costco—$40 worth. Did the woman really drive all the way to Myrtle Beach for just tampons? If not driving by herself saw an amazing value and couldn’t resist?
No prescriptions noted anywhere
No medical payments
Either she has amazing insurance or she gets a discount for cash
There are many ATM withdrawals for cash usually in $100 increments sometimes $50
Chapter IX
The days sped by as they did all the naughty things usually only teenagers were known for. They dragged a blanket into the dunes and made love under a full moon. Beneath a pier, hidden in the late evening shadows, in the pouring down rain, he hoisted her against him, and using only the back of his hands to protect her smooth skin against the rough creosote piling, he pressed into her—rubbed and grinded until they both came despite their suits remaining in place. At dawn he took her on a bench built into a wooden beach access. The dunes shielded them but the idea that anyone at any window in the hotel facing the ocean could look down on them, excited Callie so much that she trembled with desire.
When Rand teased her by breathing into her ear that he thought he saw the glint of binoculars in one of the rose-tinted windows, she came so violently and so loudly that he had to gag her with the bikini top he had just taken off. As “punishment,” for misbehaving, he made her walk back to their room, down the access, through the deserted alley and empty parking lot, topless, her gorgeous tits bouncing as she hurried along. He smacked her butt as he jogged alongside her causing her to shriek, knowing discovery would flood her and make her eager to come again. The curtains in one window fluttered and an old woman peered out. Her eyes went wide as they ran past, Rand waving Callie’s top like a trophy.
A long nap had ensued followed by a hearty breakfast at the pancake house. When they looked at each other everything around them seemed to disappear. A few times the waitress had to tap Rand on his shoulder to get his attention as he was so mesmerized by the woman sitting across from him. Her smile alone delighted him to his core, her laughter made him lightheaded. He was gone on her, and he knew it. Every waitress in the place was pretty sure of it, too. They would have looked on Callie with the worst kind of envy if it hadn’t appeared that they were privy to a fairytale unfolding. There isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t swoon when she witnes
ses a love story having its happily-ever-after right in front of them.
On the way back to the room they decided the weather was too perfect to waste so as soon as they closed the motel door behind them they began stripping with the idea of putting on their swimsuits. Rand couldn’t resist and had to grope her as she dropped her dress and shimmied out of her panties. It was touch and go whether they’d actually make it to the beach before being tempted back to the bed when the sight of Callie’s furry bush reminded him that he had a little grooming chore to perform on her.
He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing and then charged into the bathroom. She giggled and protested while playfully slapping his shoulders as he placed her on the edge of the tub, her feet inside.
Still naked himself, he stepped into the tub and faced her. His hands parted her thighs and as he admired the view, he sloshed warm water on her lush mound. Shaving cream was next, slathered so thick you couldn’t see the black curls covering her. Then he squatted in front of her, his massive thighs used to holding his weight in a deep crouch for long periods of time.
The first swipes were the most telling, as rinsing the razor in the flowing stream, thick rich curls were washed by the handful down the drain. Concentrating, he made many downward strokes before ducking his head and paying particular attention to the soft folds and creases. Her hands on the side of the tub, she was forced to lean back and watch as he meticulously removed all traces of her pubic hair. Alternately rinsing and running his fingers over her denuded flesh, he murmured his pleasure at the sight. When he was satisfied she was clean-shaven and smooth, he leaned in and kissed her with an openmouthed kiss that searched and explored, reveling in her naked pussy. Then he stood, lifted her over the rim and toweled her off.
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