“A smart woman would know that as well,” he said and sipped on his beer.
The obvious shift in his demeanor said the third one was the doozy. He didn’t want to talk about her and Zelda didn’t want to hear about her either. Talking about heart breaker number three would change the mood and if her mood changed she would not get any tonight.
“Last but not least, Mr. Scott Berger, I want to dance. I want to see how we move together,” she said pulling at his arm, hearing the disco music kick off.
“You don’t want to hear...”
“Nope,” she said, moving to the background music coming from down the hall. “Save the sad talk for later, another time, another conversation. Tonight is about me and you having a good time and enjoying ourselves. I want to have some fun, Scott. Lord knows we are both overdue,” she told him, moving her shoulders.
“Sounds good,” he said following along behind her. “Did I mention I was a good dancer?”
A good dancer was an understatement. The man was sex on a stick and she planned to stir her pot with him. One dance and she were past ready. It only took the one dance and if she’d had a club, she would have hit him in the head with it and drug him from the floor back to her cave to introduce him to her clever, acrobatic vagina which was nested between legs trained in gymnastics.
Zelda knew it wasn’t just the dance. It was the way he danced with her.
He was right. His looks had nothing to do with him as a man. He was sexy as hell and she was three phases past turned up. They moved so well together that she wanted to experience all of him.
Chapter 8
Tucky’s Derby, the hotel lounge, filled up fast with men and women looking to make a connection. The loud music mixed with potent drinks, and willing bodies swayed in the thick night atmosphere of the smoky room filled with sweat and high hopes. Eager bodies paired off to open the evening’s negotiations of terms of surrender for a night of either passion or a morning fraught with regret.
Loud bass undertones reverberated through the floor, giving confidence to stiff legs held together by knobby knees shaking like Elvis with hopes of impressing a potential partner.
“It’s like the mating season at the watering hole,” Scott whispered in her ear.
He stood very close, his arm touching hers, but nothing more.
“I’m glad my glasses are dirty so I can’t see half of what’s happening on that dance floor,” he said again.
“Be grateful. That dude in the middle is dancing like something just crawled up his pants leg,” she told him smiling. “So, when am I going to see these fancy dance moves of yours?”
“Just waiting for the DJ to play my song,” he said to her. Rex, A Bad Monkey, was also on the dance floor surrounded by women. He had no moves, no game plan other than to stand there and sway to the music. If he had rhythm, it didn’t matter. The flock of seagulls hanging onto him didn’t care.
The song changed to the clear sounds of a marimba playing in the background. Scott’s body stiffened, his eyes grew wide hearing the first chords of the popular Ed Sheeran song. His shoulders started bobbing as he looked at her with a buck-toothed, crooked grin.
“That’s my jam! Come on, Zelda! Let’s do this!” he said, pulling her by the hand to the middle of the dance floor. He walked to the beat as he dragged her into the midst of the crowd.
Turning, rocking his shoulders back and forth, raising his arms high in the air, his narrow hips moving slowly. Zelda stood in front of him, moving slightly, wondering what she was getting herself into as his arms came down on top of her shoulders.
“Rock with me,” he mouthed.
She moved side to side with him. The powerful arms pulled her in closer with each move until they were body to body, his thighs touching hers. Scott’s movements encouraged her to hold on to his waist and follow along with his dance moves.
“That’s it, Zee, rock slowly,” he whispered in her ear. He did have really good rhythm, their bodies syncing as her pelvis pressed against his. The large arms locked her in place, yet his hands did not make contact with her body. In her ear, he provided directions that sent shivers of delight through her as she followed along.
“On three we are going to rock slow and take it the floor,” he said in her ear. He began to count it down. “One,” he counted, as his left heel lifted from the floor coming back down as if it were marking time. “Two,” he continued, doing the same move, lifting her hips with each movement, up and down.
“And three, go low Zee, nice and easy,” Scott encouraged. “Ready? Go!”
They rocked against each other, knees bending, lowering their bodies in unison, moving against each other. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as her hands clung to his shirt, then his body, holding tight, loving the feel of his muscles. Loving the feel of him.
Scott’s hands hung at his side as he moved with her.
“On three, pop those hips and we will bring it back up real slow,” he said in her ear. She held on, ready to pump, thrust, hump or anything else he wanted her to do.
He counted down, following along, staying close, feeling the dampness forming from the sweat that was growing on his body. Once they reached full height, he suddenly backed away from her, grabbing her left hand, holding it high in the air. The black dress came up somewhat, showing off her thighs.
“Strut it out, Zelda,” he said to her.
Two steps at a time, she stepped in time to the beat, walking around as he held her hand, promenading around him. The song’s tempo changed as he grabbed her, pulling her close behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her breasts pressed into his back, swaying, moving those narrow hips. Hips that moved around in a controlled circle like a puppet master training an oversized male entertainer. Slowly he turned, facing her again.
He touched her.
He touched her waist, her hips, and imaginary parts he couldn’t even see. Without warning, his lips went to that little divot on her neck, his teeth made a little nip and she nearly had an orgasm right there on the dance floor. Her nails scored his back at the feel of his teeth on her skin, then, the music ended.
Scott hugged her closely.
“We move well together,” he told her.
Zelda gnawed on her bottom lip, trying to catch her breath but more so to prevent herself from saying something trashy and crass. The ball was in his court. How he handled this next portion would truly seal the deal.
Don’t screw this up.
Don’t screw this up.
Don’t be dumb and say something stupid. I’m already yours, just get me to your room.
He held her hand as he led her from the dance floor. A few people wished them a good night and congratulated the new couple on their fancy moves. Scott nodded and smiled as they went to the elevator. Breathily, she stepped inside the car, standing close to the buttons. Her room was on five. She didn’t know which floor he was on.
“What floor are you on?” he asked. “I am staying on the twelfth floor.”
Scott didn’t push any buttons. He waited for her. Zelda pushed 12. The palms of his hands were as cool as his demeanor. He led her to his room, opening the door, allowing her to enter first to look about as he poured them both a glass of water.
“Is this the Presidential Suite?”
“I’m not sure. The conference organizer books it each year. I entertain dealers up here, have private meetings, specialized repairs, that kind of thing,” he told her.
Zelda watched him remove his jacket and tie and kick off the shiny black lace-up wingtips. Her feet were rooted to the floor as he began to unbutton the shirt. Black hair stuck out and up from the top of the shirt.
The more he unbuttoned, the more hair was revealed.
His chest was black.
It was covered in thick coarse hair.
Scott pulled the shirt from inside of his pants untucking the ends so it could hang freely. He reached the last button, opening the shirt wide to reveal a full frontal visual assault of nothi
ng but black hair.
The stuff even covered his belly.
“What are you, an Italian Yeti?”
He laughed. “Now, that one I have never heard before, but in my defense, I did tell you I was hairy.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t say you were a damned bear!”
She turned to leave the room, but he called her name.
“Zelda, wait,” he said. He unfastened his pants, lowering them to reveal Howdy Doody underwear.
“You need to quit,” she said, disappointed.
The smiling, cherub, freckle vent doll’s smiling face was on the underwear, grinning at her and killing her girl boner at the same time.
“What? My grandfather designed the doll. He named him Howdy Donny, which I own the patent and rights to...,” he said looking confused. “The ventriloquist renamed the doll as the other name for his television show.”
“Well, that may be the only woody I see tonight, Scott,” she said turning towards the door.
He turned his body to reveal his excitement.
The large bulge caught her attention. She was mesmerized by the beauty of it when he pulled down the underwear. She had no more talking to do as she kicked off her shoes.
“It’s Howdy Donny time,” she said to him.
Chapter 9
Thursday Morning
The tub was a welcome break for soaking muscles that Zelda didn’t even realize were sore until she sat down in the warm water. The scented salts rose up to her nose, waking her faster than any cup of coffee ever had, giving her a moment of pause to ponder the possibility of rising early enough to bathe versus coffee then a shower. Again, Scott had been right.
The conversation between them in the bar, although at the moment seemed stupid and a waste of time had been necessary. Especially considering she had pretty much guaranteed him she would be a sure thing. However, as she floated along in the oversized garden tub, she’d learned a few things about him. His looks did not factor in how he viewed or perceived himself. That was an oddity among men. Financially, if she continued along this path, she wouldn’t have to worry about him popping up wanting to borrow a few bills for gas money until pay day.
Been there. Dated that one.
Sexually, he was easily the best lover she’d ever had in her life. That alone made her give two fucks about his bad skin, bucked teeth, and him being blind as a bat. With the lights on or lights off, he found where every single divot, button, bud, and nipple was on her body. He’d either licked, sucked, or nibbled on every item as well. Her breasts were tender and sensitive from the administrations of his mouth as well as rubbing against the fur rug of his chest.
Bringing her coffee tub side was a nice touch.
The elevator thingy was a nice touch as well, telling her which floor his room was on, allowing her to make the selection of whether her room or his. Scott Berger was a class act. Even in bed, he wasn’t vulgar, overly aggressive, or spewing lewd commands in her ear.
It didn’t stop her from spewing them in his.
The sex was just that good.
I want to see him again.
Hell, I want to have sex...no make love, nope. I want to have sex with him again before I leave.
Zelda left the bathroom to find Scott sitting at the small table, reading the morning paper and sipping coffee while he waited for her. He had not started to eat but stood as she approached. He wore loose fitting lounge pants and no shirt.
“Sorry, I am a bit warm this morning. If this bothers you, I will put on a shirt,” he said watching her face.
She leaned down and kissed his hairy shoulder. “I find you horrifically sexy, with or without a shirt,” she said.
The bushy eyebrows went up.
“Zelda, if you want to have sex again before you leave, you can just say so,” he said, looking down at his empty plate.
“Yes, I would like to before I leave, if that is okay with you,” she said.
He shrugged.
Something was troubling him and instead of asking, she went for the obvious solution to his morning dilemma.
“I need to charge my phone. Where did I leave my purse?”
“Your purse is by the door, but I took the liberty of charging your phone, just in case. I wouldn’t want it to go dead and your family worry about you,” he said.
“You are just all kinds of thoughtful, aren’t you?”
Again he shrugged.
Before walking over to the table to retrieve her phone, she refreshed both their coffees. Uncovering the chafing dishes, she doled out eggs, sausages, potatoes, and a pancake for each of them to eat. The small container of fresh fruit was idyllic and she spooned out hearty servings of pineapple chunks with mango into a small bowl for each of them. Kissing him on the head, she collected her phone and took a seat at the table.
Scott’s spirits were down. Based on experience, he surmised that Zelda was going to spend the morning breakfast time updating her social media, texting friends, and ignoring him. After she’d eaten a spoonful of air and half a nibble of a corner of a pineapple chunk, his spectacular girl was going to turn into every other girl. She would ask him to bounce up and down on her until she’d found her pleasure, then leave and he would never hear from her again. The rest of his day would plod along as he taught two classes to idiots who used the wrong types of oils on the wood of the very expensive dolls. Dinner would consist of overcooked steaks while he listened to some random salesman drone on and on about the benefits of teak of hardwoods. Oh, and lunch. Lunch with my parents and two dull as dead dolls sisters nagging me and treating me like a fifteen-year-old.
Some days I hate my life.
“Scott, can you put your numbers in my phone?” she asked, handing him her device.
“What?” he asked, astonished.
“Can you put your numbers in my phone so I will be able to reach you at your office, on your cell, and landline if you have one? What am I thinking? Of course, you have a house phone,” she said. “Did you bless the food already? I can eat everything on this damned table.”
“No, but please, by all means, go ahead,” he told her.
He watched his spectacular woman inhale three sausage links, almost a whole pancake in one bite, swallow a full glass of juice but stop at the potatoes. “I may need those for fuel after our morning workout,” she said with a wink.
He was still holding the device as if waiting for Scotty to beam him up.
“Oh, send a text message to your phone, so you can have my cell number. You have my office number, or I can give it you myself. I will give you the number to the house, but I never answer it,” she said, helping herself to more eggs.
“If you do call the house and a man answers, it’s my brother,” she told him. “He raised me after our parents died. I guess raised isn’t the right word. I was thirteen, he was 18, so he assumed custody.”
Scott could not get over how talkative she had become. In the last three minutes, he’d learned more about her that he had in almost two days. She wasn’t done.
“If you want to eat but are worried about your performance on a full belly, I will take the lead and do the work. I would like that actually if it’s okay with you.”
“Umm, sure,” he responded, cocking his head. She continued to talk as if she was beset by a sudden case of diarrhea of the mouth.
“My family is kind of small. My brother and I were the only kids either of my parents had. My mother was the only child my Grandma had and we didn’t know our grandparents on my father’s side. I live a quiet life. I travel most weekends, and Tuesdays are my dead day. I am off and it is me, a bowl of popcorn, wine, and Netflix. Sometimes my two best friends Jinny and Margo stop by, but they know better. When you come to town, Mondays and Tuesdays are the best days. I have no idea what day the 17th is on, but it doesn’t matter. If it’s a weekend, I will work around it, or you can come to wherever I am,” she said looking up at him.
She was greeted by a crooked grin.
“You did
say you wanted to see me again, right?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling bigger.
“Well that is critical info you need to know,” she said. “Oh yeah, the house is divided. My brother lives on one side, me on the other. We share the kitchen and living space, laundry room kind of thing, but I have a separate TV area, eat in area kind of space. As he got older, he didn’t want me waking up to half naked women in the kitchen eating fruity puffs. So, he divided the house to give himself, mostly, some privacy.”
She had stopped chewing long enough to look at him closely. Without the glasses, he wasn’t bad looking. The things she could see were all cosmetic. He had nice hair and a good cut to it with a bit of style. Scott had style she could easily admit to that.
“I guess it also helped when I had sleepovers that young half naked women weren’t all over the house either. He is very particular about that kind of thing. My brother, Michael, doesn’t want to see any half-naked men either, so let me know your size and I can have a robe ready for you when you stay over next month,” she said.
“I’m staying over?”
“Scott, I am not a one night stand kind of girl. You are not going to breeze into town, get my good loving, and breeze out,” she said.
“Isn’t that what you are doing to me?”
Zelda pulled her phone from his hand. Why he was still holding it she was uncertain. The airline was on speed dial. He listened closely as she changed her flight to depart tomorrow, but was informed that the Friday flights were booked.
“I tried,” she said, smiling.
“It’s okay. At least you tried,” he told her.
“What?” she asked as he sat there grinning like a lopsided Cheshire cat.
“You are truly a spectacular woman,” he said.
Zelda stood, un-sashing the robe, allowing it to fall open to reveal her nudity underneath. Confident in the number of hours spent in hotel gyms working on her abs, thighs, and glutes, she allowed the robe to drop to her feet as she stood bare before him.
it Happened Last Wednesday (The Zelda Diaries Book 1) Page 5
