by Leslie Pike
One last look at her face. That smile. I’m hooked on it.
“That would work. Good thinking. How about Tuesday night?”
She chuckles.
“Too soon?” I ask.
“No. But that means I have to wait three whole days to kiss you again.”
“Babe, I’d be happy to stop by your work Monday and give you whatever you need. Whatever you need.”
There’s an intake of breath, and I feel the palm of her hand slap against my back. But she accepts the idea. I start the bike.
All the way back, I’m imagining fucking her. Can’t help myself. Who would blame me? Kiss? I’m way ahead of you, Dominique. Hopefully, I’m wrong about that, and she’ll be open to the idea. But I’ll follow her lead. If she rejects my overtures, then I’ll have to live with it. My balls are turning blue, thinking about the very real possibility.
There’s an earthiness about her. I bet she’s going to be a good lover. What do I base that on? Years of experience and my ability to spot real sensuality. The woman’s got it in spades. The way she looks at me compared to the Ken doll she’s currently seeing is telling. Wait! What about that? What we need to have is a long conversation. I’m going to call her tonight and see where her head’s at.
The conversation has been excellent. This is what happens when you talk to a woman who really lets you inside. A man automatically gives back. Both are listening, not just waiting for their turn to talk. We talked about Kim and how she’s recovering, when she’s coming home. I told her how my sister and I are close and how our nightly talks are beneficial to both of us.
I told her about my contracting business and how it took years to make a name. How I’m on the verge of getting an opportunity I’ve worked years for. When she asked about how it came to be that I lived in Tennessee for five years, I gave her the edited version. Donna and I met in Mexico on vacation, and she lived in Tennessee. When it ended, I moved back to California, where my family lives.
Didn’t want to sound like an idiot and add that I moved across the United States so she could stay by her family. Or that five years later, I found out she was unfaithful. The fact I was caught unaware makes me sound weak. I purposely left out those details.
She talked about her deep connection to the animals she treats and how her childhood led her there. She’s so interesting. Long conversations have never been my thing. I always seemed to be searching for the next thing to say. There’s none of that here. I could talk for hours. It has already been one and a half.
“You sound tired,” I say.
Through the phone, I hear a deep sigh escape her lips.
“I am. Mentally tired. Bing and I had words, and it blows my mind that he can’t understand why I’m upset.”
“I think it’s called thirteen.”
She chuckles, and I sense a smile on her.
“This puberty business is harder than I remember.”
“I remember the struggle. One minute you feel like a kid, and the next, your body is acting like a man. It’s not as easy as it sounds for a boy.”
“Well, you do have first-hand experience.”
Here’s my opportunity.
“True. Speaking of things a man thinks of, this man is thinking of you. Of us together.”
There is a beat while I hold my breath.
“Me too,” she whispers.
My dick just jumped, thinking of seeing her naked. Now the animal in me appears.
“What are we waiting for, Dominique? I want more than a kiss.”
There’s no hesitation in her response. “Yes. Much more.”
Oh hell! Yes! It’s a go.
“Tuesday night, Hunter is going to his friend’s house for a sleepover. What about Bing? Can you arrange something?”
“Damn! I put him in lockdown for a week.”
“Get creative. It’s a sexual emergency. Where could he go for the night?”
“An emergency? Sounds serious,” she chuckles.
“It is. I think it’s beginning to swell. It requires your immediate attention.”
The giggle proceeds her words.
“Let me think … I know! I’ll ask July and Wes to keep him overnight. They will follow my rules. No cell phone. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“It’s a date then. And where? Your place?”
“No. We need somewhere other than our homes, where there’s no chance of being interrupted.”
I close the deal before she can change her mind.
“I’ll make reservations at a hotel and pick you up at six. No, five. Is that too early for you?”
“No, Maxen. Let’s have as much time together as possible.”
“Great. Slow burns are overrated.”
Her laugh gets me grinning.
“And Dominique …”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to make love to every inch of you.”
Chapter Seven
Dominique
Every inch of me? From his mouth to God’s ear. The words play on a loop in my mind as I wait for the appointed hour. All my inches have been shaved, plucked, creamed, or perfumed. Toes and fingernails are a deep rose shade. I’m the pig before the slaughter. No. More like the baby colt. My legs feel a bit shaky.
I haven’t done this before. Scheduled a sexual encounter. It doesn’t sound sexy at all, but in reality, I’ve never been more aroused. Will I be able to follow through? Not that I don’t know what goes where, but I’m not exactly a pro. I am much more the rookie hoping I get lucky with my comeback debut.
It’s been such a long time since I’ve had sex. There was that one night stand about three years after I became a widow, so unsatisfying, I never tried for any connection again. Not that it was the guy’s fault. It just felt wrong. The real reason was there was no available space in my life. Concentrating on my studies and being a new mother took everything I had.
Robert and I were both virgins. Waxing wasn’t part of my regimen then, and the lotions I used were cheap drugstore brands. Tonight, I’m bringing out the big guns. On some level, I’m glad to have waited because it feels special to indulge myself. I haven’t felt so womanly in years.
The house seems empty without Bing’s energy. I am reminded of the scene in Moonstruck when Cher was getting ready for her big night with Nicholas Cage. I’m doing exactly what she did—looking in the full-length mirror in my bedroom while I apply my lipstick. I hardly recognize myself.
The most obvious difference is McFly. He sits to the side of the mirror, watching everything. I’d swear he’s feeling miffed. There is a serious expression. Like he knows I’m about to leave him alone in the house. Or that he realizes life is about to change. He’s a kid in a dog suit. He has not left my side since I started getting dressed.
I look pretty. I’m going to allow myself that small conceit. It’s rare when I do. Before I step into the dress, I take in my image. Sexy. If he doesn’t like this, I’ll have to check his pulse. Pale pink panties and bra look good against my skin. Days spent on the lake with July and family have given me a summer glow.
Turning to see the rear view makes me smile. My ass may be my best feature, which works in this golden age of the ass. I don’t remember it playing such a significant role when I was a teenager. I was always embarrassed that mine was too big. And had a dimple on my right cheek. I hated it.
But what sells the entire image are the heels. It will be a sad day in the future when wearing heels becomes impossible. Oh hell. Stop that! It’s just like me to worry about something that may or may not happen decades from now. Tonight, they feel wonderful. Flesh toned four-inch beauties bring me to five foot nine. Love it!
Walking toward the mirror, I watch the muscles in my legs tighten with each step. It highlights the consistent gym visits. An impromptu dance bubbles up. The kind you do when there’s no audience. Free, loose, and over the top. There are no missteps when your audience is imaginary. I feel like I could be on America’s Got Talent. Golden buzzer! Everyone has
a secret entertainer living inside them, and mine is taking the stage. Then I realize I do have an audience. McFly’s head just tilted, questioning the dorky lady his human has become.
What’s that sound? Is that a truck? The dog takes off, barking all the way to the door. Shit! As I move to open the shutter, my eyes dart to the clock. Oh crap! It’s him! He’s twenty minutes early! The door slams shut. Oh no, oh no, oh no, NO! I need to finish dressing. The allotted time? Ten seconds.
Grabbing the silky slip of a dress off the bed, I slide it over my head. My heart is pounding like a drumbeat. The doorbell sounds. No time for a last look; this will have to do. I move to the door and give McFly instructions.
“Get back. Go lay down,” I whisper scream.
He obeys me but sounds a huff in response.
Centering myself with a deep breath, in and out, I open the door. Maxen’s eyes follow the length of me, taking in the entire picture. I know a positive review when I get one. His jaw tightens.
“Just wow,” he says. Then locks eyes with me. “You’re really beautiful, Dominique.”
I’m stuck in place, not knowing what to say or do. Where the heck is the entertainer in me? She went into hiding as soon as I laid eyes on Maxen. In her place came the shy, inexperienced girl. How should I feel when everything is him?
He’s dressed for the special occasion. A white dress shirt and black jeans. Those jet-black sunglasses look so out of this world cool. I’m bowled over by how handsome he looks.
“Come here, baby,” he says while walking in, removing the glasses, and taking me in his arms.
Music plays throughout the house, and this song is right for the moment. “Heaven” by Kane Brown says everything I feel. How good could heaven be when it feels like paradise exists right here in this room? I melt into the embrace. A kiss on the neck becomes his first gift.
“I’ve waited all day long to have you in my arms,” he whispers in my ear.
“It feels like magic.” My eyes lower, then rise to meet his. “I’m a bit nervous.”
“I don’t bite. Not too hard, anyway.”
Why does that turn me on? I do not want to be somebody’s bite, but the fact he said it tickles me. I have never been a naughty girl. Taking his face in my hands, I bring my mouth to his. Carried away on a cloud is the poorest description of how it feels. Just knowing there are no obstacles in our way makes it hotter than ever. I feel his cock harden against my belly. A bolt of lightning runs up my spine.
“We’d better go now, Dominique, or we won’t go at all,” he says, breaking away. “It doesn’t feel like I can control this thing.”
What? He likes the smile I’m hiding unsuccessfully.
“Let me grab my purse.”
Following me to the door of the bedroom, he stops and watches.
“Your dress is inside out.”
Looking down, I realize the seams are obviously showing. Oh shit.
“Want me to leave?” He says it hoping for the right answer.
Wish a feeling of confidence would rise in me. I’d love to be the woman who could do a sexy striptease for my man. But it’s just not me. My eyes plead for understanding.
“Yes, please,” I say with a half-smile. “Let’s wait till we’re at the hotel, okay?”
“No problem. I’ll be in the other room.”
Instagram perfect. That’s how it feels walking up to the boutique hotel in the light of an early summer’s evening. Just an hour outside of Smyrna, The Cosgrove tickles the senses. Fern-flecked hillsides and gardens bursting with blossoms announce we have arrived. Tennesseans have a thing for the countryside vibe, and a romantic notion is part of that.
A purple Crepe Myrtle lined path leads to the intricately carved metal doors. It makes everything look like we are about to enter a secret, hidden world, which is sort of accurate. There’s a sense of retreat here.
“This is spectacular,” I say, looking at all the details.
“It really is. Kim told me she heard it was special. And romantic.”
The words make me happy. He hasn’t brought another woman here. How could he? I don’t think this was here when he was a Tennessee resident.
The doorman swings the door open and offers a pleasant smile as we pass through. Right away, I feel a kind of calmness. This is no busy lobby, with vacationing tourists in lines at the front desk. It is all done elegantly, intentionally, and with a minimalist bent. It is dramatic in its simplicity. A well-dressed and perfectly groomed silver-haired man approaches.
“Welcome to The Cosgrove. We are so happy you have chosen us for your stay. May I get your names please?”
“Thank you. It’s under Ripley. Maxen Ripley.”
He uses his phone to check on the reservation and quickly returns it to his pocket.
“You’ll be in room seven. It has a spectacular view I think you’ll both enjoy. Let me have the valet take your bags.”
A rise of his hand brings a young man to our side. He barely looks eighteen, even in his spotless presentation.
“Room seven, please.”
Turning back to us, he continues. “I recommend Hibiscus, our five-star restaurant, for your dinner. Or perhaps you might enjoy dining in-room. You will find a detailed list of other good choices as well. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to call me personally. Here are my card and your key. Above all, we hope you enjoy our little world. We have created it with you in mind.”
We head for the room, and we are both quiet. Another couple passes us in the hall. The woman nods, and I wordlessly return her kindness. There is not enough spit in my mouth to form actual words. I wonder if Maxen can sense my nerves? When he takes my hand and wraps his warm fingers around my cold ones, I know he must.
I don’t know whether to be glad or mad, it’s a one-story hotel. On the one hand, an elevator ride would give me more time to calm down. On the other, I might have a stroke if this anticipation has more time to build. Within seconds we are at the door.
“Finally,” he says, inserting the keycard.
Finally? It only took two minutes from lobby to room. Oh hell. I am about to be ravaged; the meat ripped from my bones until nothing is left. This is either one of the best days of my life or the worst. What if I am a lousy lay? I want to cry. Or scream. That’s it. I definitely feel like screaming. My kisses made him think he’s getting a sexual dynamo. False advertisement! That’s what he’s going to think.
Chapter Eight
Maxen
There’s a bed and a view. That much, I know. Good lighting casts a glow over the scene, and soft jazz plays in the background. Other than that, I couldn’t say. Something much more interesting holds my attention. Dominique. And I think she might be distracted, too, but in another way. My distraction is based on desire. Hers looks like fear.
She is a bunny in headlights, foot caught in a trap. And the Mac truck is fast approaching. I don’t hate the reaction; it lets me be the one to show the way. She was happily married for three years, so there must have been satisfying sex.
If I had it my way, I’d be the first man that her hands touched. But that is unrealistic at our age. Who knows? Like the song says, maybe I’ll be the last. For some reason, what Dominique knows has been temporarily erased. I guess time did that.
She needs to see I’m capable of turning her nerves to pleasure. Hopefully. Never have I had a clearer aim. Not that I’m such an expert, but enthusiasm and stamina count for a lot. She’s probably second-guessing herself right now, not certain why she chose to be here. But here we are, and I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. God knows I don’t.
I toss the keycard on the table and take the straps of her purse from her shoulder.
“Oh my God,” she says, looking up to the heavens.
The fewer words said, the better. It’s other senses that need to be brought to the forefront. Wrapping my arms around her, I begin to dance slowly and ignore the plea for God’s help. Her body’s stiff at first but soon relaxes into the embrace. A
sigh escapes her lips and settles on my neck. Oh my God, the warm breath sends a chill.
“It’s a good night for a moon dance,” I whisper.
“There’s no moon yet.”
“We’re just starting. There will be.”
A little wordless sound escapes her lips. It’s more like a squeak. She holds on to me as if letting go will release the hound. It will, but that’s beside the point. We’re smooth dancing together, even though it’s in a tight circle of space. I know we’re going to be good.
“I’m hungry for your touch, Dominique.”
“I want you too. I do.”
The tone sounds like she’s trying to convince one of us, and that one isn’t me. But I’m not taking the shyness personally.
“You know we have to actually take our clothes off and get into the bed, right?”
“Yes,” she says under her breath.
I begin to unbutton my shirt. Slowly. While we still dance. I’m looking at her, and she’s watching my fingers while biting her bottom lip. Taking her hand, I run it over my bare chest. I need to go slow. The last thing I want to do is scare her.
That’s when it happens. As soon as she touches my skin, an unmistakable metamorphosis shows up in her eyes and expression. The green of her eyes darkens, and a sly grin appears.
“I feel better now.”
The words are dripping with innuendo, and it surprises me. All dancing stops as my nipples feel the effect of the delicate touch. Then her tongue.
“Oh yeah. I like that. I love that,” I say.
Without taking her hand from around my neck, she trails an index finger from nipple to waistband. Oh shit. Touch it. Touch it. But it’s a deliberate journey she takes, teasing me without mercy and intentionally avoiding the dick.
It’s effective. I’m getting harder by the second. She lingers around my belly button and runs a hand across my stomach. Fingers play with the edges of my pants.
“Babe, put your hand inside and feel what you’ve done.”
