by Wolf Wootan
Cool it, Sam! Make this the best you’ve ever done! I have to make her explode before I do! Quite a task the way I’m throbbing now!
They dried off and made it to Sam’s bed, and he yanked the covers off it. They were a mass of tangled arms and legs, kissing desperately now, their tongues probing.
Sam whispered in her ear as he nibbled on it, “This is your last chance to back out. There’s no turning back once I get started.”
“God no! I want this! Don’t ask me why! It just . . . feels right! Do me!”
Sam worked his way down her long neck to her breasts and sucked her stiff nipples while his fingers sought the spot between her legs. She was moaning and writhing on the bed, trying to shove her breast further into his mouth. By the time his kisses got to her inner thighs she could take no more.
“My God, Sam! Now! Please! I’m ready!” she whispered, more of a wail.
Finally, when he knew she was about to explode, he moved on top of her and they rode the next set of waves together, in perfect unison.
***
Afterwards, they both rolled over onto their backs for a long moment, just catching their breaths, chests heaving. She glanced at him, he at her.
She said, “Thanks, Sam, for getting me ready . . . like that. That was really an exceptional experience!”
“It’s always better that way—together.”
“A rare experience for me. An organic experience without the shampoo!” She giggled. “Again, thanks! Do you mind if I go out and have a cigarette?”
She had used the word ‘rare’ because she wasn’t quite ready to admit that she’d ‘never’ had an orgasm during intercourse before.
As Sam watched her chest heave up and down, nipples pointing at the ceiling, he thought he felt a fresh pang in his loins.
He thought, No couldn’t be! Not possible this soon! But . . . she really does something to me. She’s different somehow!
He replied, “No. I’ll go out with you. I’d let you smoke in here, but it’s not my house.”
Sam went to his closet and grabbed two robes, tossing one to Bo. He opened the sliding screen door and they stepped out over their wet bathing suits. Bo found her cigarettes and lighter on the bar where she had left them earlier. She took one out of the box and lit up, her hands still shaking from her sexual gyrations. They each sat on a bar stool, and Sam was very distracted by the fact that Bo did not bother to wrap her robe around her. The moonlight dancing on her white breasts was driving Sam crazy.
“Drink?” Sam asked.
“Hmm. I guess, but I don’t know how I can improve on the glow I have,” she smiled, covering his hand with hers.
He patted her hand, then arose and went behind the bar and poured a couple of cognacs. He stared openly at her pert breasts as she smoked and stared out to sea. They clinked glasses and sipped their brandies.
When Bo noticed Sam staring at her breasts, she closed her robe and tightened the belt. Sam caught the gesture, wondered what was wrong.
“You OK?” he asked, eyebrow arched.
Bo took a drag on her cigarette, exhaled. “I feel . . . I don’t know. Depraved, in a way.”
“Depraved? At least you didn’t say ‘exploited.’” grumbled Sam.
“No, no! Maybe a better word is ‘naughty.’ Sex with a stranger is definitely not my style,” Bo replied, a little nervously.
Sam offered, “I think ‘pampered’ is a much better word. You women like to pamper yourselves with massages, facials, mud packs, pedicures, manicures . . . and whatever. Why not add good, well-administered sex now and then. You’re entitled.”
Bo was silent for a beat, looked into his eyes, then replied, “You certainly pampered me. As you could probably tell, I’d never done some of those things before. The entire experience was unbelievable! Thank you for your patience with me.”
“You adapted well—you’re a fast learner. Pretty inexperienced for a woman your age though. I take it that you’re used to a ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’ type of man?” said Sam, eyes still locked on hers.
“You’re right about that. I hope my lack of experience didn’t ruin your enjoyment,” she said.
She lowered her eyes.
“You’re gorgeous enough to have your pick of men! Why choose losers?” asked Sam, squeezing her hand. “You up for another round of pampering?”
“You’re kidding, right? Are you?” she said, looking at him once again.
“I will be soon. Open your robe so I can feast my eyes on your fabulous body!”
“I normally don’t show my naked body to strangers. I really am very shy,” she replied, meaning it.
“We’re hardly strangers now. At least, not of the flesh. Carnally, we’re old buddies. I know all of your erogenous zones—I think. I’d like another look.”
“Don’t push me on this, Sam! I’m really conflicted right now.”
She wasn’t smiling.
Although Bo had a nagging feeling that this sexual encounter had been a huge mistake—one she would probably regret later—she didn’t have the fortitude to refuse herself a second go around with Sam. She was being completely selfish, she knew, but she didn’t want the euphoria to end—not yet. She had experienced an inexplicable connection to this sexy stranger—a complete stranger in all ways except carnally. In a way, she wanted to hate him for seducing her, but in the end, she knew that she had made the first move. She had begged for it! Or was that the way he worked? He was a devil!
She looked over every inch of his solid body, and desire surged through her again. She was drawn to him like iron filings to a magnet. He mesmerized her. She couldn’t help herself.
He came from behind the bar and took her in his arms, kissing her deeply, their naked bodies fused, their tongues dueling. They moved back to the bedroom.
***
It was 4:00 A.M. when she slipped into her cover-up and said, “I’d better go to my room. I don’t want to make a bad impression on Becky.”
“Becky will know. Come back to bed. I don’t want to sleep alone.”
She hesitated, then dropped the cover-up and crawled back into his bed—stretched out next to him.
“Neither do I,” she said as she put her head on his chest, “but I’m serious about nobody knowing about this little tryst. Especially Becky. How will she know if you don’t tell her?”
“She’s a walking, talking analytical machine. Nothing gets by her. She’ll notice how we look at each other. How we talk. Trust me, she’ll sense it,” explained Sam as he stroked her hair. “We’re consenting adults. Why are you so embarrassed over this? I thought that we had a truly unique and exceptional experience.”
Bo ran her fingers through his chest hair and didn’t answer right away. How could she really answer him? She agreed with him—more than he could possibly know—that she had just experienced the most thrilling and emotionally fulfilling sexual encounter of her entire life! She had never imagined that sex could be this good! At least, not for her. But that wasn’t what was bothering her. She was sure that she had violated all sorts of rules and regulations by sleeping with Sam Crown. He was a witness—possibly even a suspect—in an ongoing investigation, wasn’t he? She had to make sure that absolutely no one ever found out about this or she would be in trouble with the FBI.
Nonsense! she thought. I’ll risk anything to have sex like that with him again, and I know it! The problem is Becky! I’ve made a connection to her somehow and I so want her approval. It’s the damned maternal thing coming out of the hole I keep it stuffed in! How could Becky respect me if she knew that only 24 hours after meeting him that I jumped into bed with her uncle—father, guardian, whatever?
Bo groaned.
“What?” asked Sam.
“I can’t explain what I’m feeling! But, yes, this was the most fulfilling sexual encounter I’ve ever had! With a stranger at that. But I have to leave you now and go to my room. What time do you expect Becky to get home? I would like to get up and talk to her when she
comes in. See how she enjoyed her special night. She was so eager and excited!”
Sam frowned, wondering what was bothering her.
“I plan to do the same thing. She has the limo all night. I suspect they’ll go to breakfast before coming home. I think that is traditional. So maybe she’ll be here at 6 or 7. We’ll probably hear the limo pull in.”
“OK. As much as I would like to fall asleep right here where I am—in your arms—I am going to go upstairs. If Becky figures out that we’ve been together, so be it. But I’m not going to flaunt it.”
She kissed Sam and got out of bed again. She put on her coverup and went out on the deck and retrieved her bathing suit and cigarettes.
“See you when Becky arrives,” she said, then left the room.
Even though Sam was disappointed, he felt a new respect for Bo. None of the other women he had had in his bed gave a rat’s ass whether Becky knew about it or not. On the other hand, Becky never liked any of them either, and he had sensed that Becky really connected with Bo.
Bo, you’re probably doing the right thing! he mused.
***
Upstairs in her room, Bo slipped into a short, cotton nightgown and went out onto the redwood deck. The clouds were gone and the stars were twinkling bright, keeping time to the growl of the waves. She lit a cigarette and sat down on one of the deck chairs. The air had cooled a bit and she shivered involuntarily, crossed her arms across her chest.
She let her thoughts leaf through the events of the day. The wonderful breakfast, the lazy trip out of the harbor on that magnificent boat. Then the violent attack that marred what was surely going to be an unusually fantastic and perfect outing for her. She tucked that incident away in a memory bin—something to be dealt with on Monday. She would get to the bottom of that later.
Up until the attack, the boat ride was delightful and she enjoyed getting to know more about Sam and Becky. Later, helping Becky—a very excited and nervous Becky—get ready for the prom had delighted Bo more than she could describe. The earlier violence at sea had been forgotten by both of them.
Then—the unbelievable sex with Sam! He had stripped away her reserve and her inhibitions and she had done things and experienced things that she would have thought were not possible! She had chided herself at first that she was being too easy. She knew from the beginning that she was just another conquest for Sam. But after only a few minutes of his ministrations, she threw herself into the heat of his passion and let herself enjoy an indescribable experience, one she would never forget. She now knew that she had been sexually short-changed by all of her sexual partners in the past. She vowed to never let that happen again. For that, she owed Sam a debt of gratitude.
Then her mind wandered back to Becky.
Chapter 32
Sunday, June 3, 2001
Capistrano Beach, CA
When Bo had left his bed and gone upstairs to her room, Sam had felt abandoned. He had planned that they would snuggle for awhile, maybe even snooze a bit, then have another go at it before Becky got home. He wanted to get as much sex from her as he could before she disappeared to wherever she had come from. Usually, after a new conquest, he had no trouble rolling over and going to sleep without another thought; but he couldn’t stop thinking of Bo.
She was actually very naive sexually for a woman her age—whatever age that was. She hadn’t actually told him her age, but she had to be somewhere in her mid-thirties. She was no Carole Winston sexually, but under his patient guidance, she had learned quickly, and hadn’t really shown any inhibitions; but there was still more he wanted to teach her. And then there was an indefinable “something else” about her. What was it?
Sam was jolted out of a hazy, groggy sleep by the slam of a car door. He glanced at his bedside digital clock: 7:11 A.M.
It must be Becky! Got to get up.
He staggered to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, dried it, then combed his tousled hair. As he was putting on his robe, he heard the front door open and could distinguish both female and male hushed laughter. By the time Sam got to the entry hall, the front door was closed and Billy was gone. He heard the limo drive away. Becky had her shoes in her hand, and she gave Sam a giant smile when she saw him. Bo came floating down the stairs in an ankle-length robe.
Sam said, “Well?”
Becky looked from Sam to Bo, then back again.
“Everything was just mah-ve-lous!” she said with an exaggerated wave of her hand. She ran to Sam and hugged him. “Best night ever, Sam! Thank you! And thank you, too, Bo!”
She went to Bo and gave her a giant hug. Bo was ecstatic!
Sam said, “You gonna give us a blow by blow?”
Becky released Bo and said, “Maybe over dinner. I am so tired! I’m gonna go crash right now!”
Bo said, “Let me go up and help you undress.”
“Thanks, Bo. I could use some help with the dress and that damned bra!” laughed Becky.
As they started up the stairs, Bo looked back at Sam. He motioned for her to come back downstairs when she was through with Becky. She answered with a slight nod.
Eight minutes later, Bo found Sam in the kitchen brewing coffee. “Poor thing fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. It seems like she had a good time, though. I can’t wait to hear the details!”
“Me either,” agreed Sam. “Get any sleep?”
“No. I might have dozed a bit, but my mind was awhirl,” she replied with a wan smile.
“Same with me. I wanted you in bed with me.”
“You know the reason . . .”
Sam interrupted her. “Yeah, I know. You were right, by the way. I have an idea, though. Becky will sleep most of the day. We could go down to the harbor—sleep on the boat. Together.”
Bo went to him and put her arms around him, laid her head on his shoulder. “Hmm. Sounds so good! I’m exhausted. What do we tell Becky?”
“We might be back before she wakes up. If not, we can say we went out,” answered Sam. “We missed dinner last night. Want some breakfast first?”
“Probably should. I’ll have some coffee for sure.”
“I’ll whip up some scrambled eggs and toast, then we can go sack out.”
“Are you sure we’ll get any sleep?” she asked with a hint of a smile.
***
When they arrived at the boat, there was no yellow crime tape on it, so they assumed the FBI was finished with evidence gathering. Sam opened some windows to let in some fresh air while Bo went to the main stateroom. When Sam joined her, she had pulled back the covers on the bed. She kicked off her sandals, stripped off her T-shirt and shorts, and sat down on the bed in her white bra and panties.
She asked Sam, “Are you really going to give me any information I can use, or was that just a ploy to get me into bed?”
Sam stripped to his boxer shorts and lay down on the bed on his back, fluffing his pillow under his head.
“Sure. Good info, I think. Becky’ll have to explain it to you though. You’d never believe it coming from me. We’ll discuss it at dinner. Now, come snuggle. Let’s get some shuteye.”
“You really mean we’re going to actually get some sleep?” she chuckled.
“Yes. That’s your next lesson. You can’t fight a war, or do your job, or have quality sex when you’re running on fumes. After a nice nap, we can take up where we left off, if that’s what you’d like to do. It’s high on my agenda.”
“Hmm,” she murmured as she stretched out next to him, threw her left arm over his chest. “Sounds delicious! Must recharge first.”
Then she was asleep. So was Sam a minute later.
***
When Bo awakened, she noticed that they were in a different position than the one they had been in when she fell asleep. She was on her left side, facing away from Sam, and he was spooning her, his right hand cupping her breast. She could feel his slow, steady breathing in her hair. There was a ship’s clock over the head of the bed, but she couldn’t see it
from her current position. She was in no hurry to move. She wanted to savor her position for awhile longer. She put her hand over his, pushed it hard against her breast. She wished now that she had taken off her bra so she could feel his hand against her bare flesh—let her nipple harden in the heat of his palm. Her batteries were recharged—as he had predicted—and she was remembering last night in all its erotic glory. Her bladder pressure interrupted her reverie, so she moved his hand and went to the head. When she returned, she glanced at the ship’s clock: 1:33 P.M.
Shit! The weekend is nearly over! I don’t want it to be over! Why in hell did I waste Friday night? Little Miss Prim and Proper! I haven’t the slightest idea who this guy really is, but he could crank up this boat and sail into the horizon, and I’d go with him! But there’s Becky. He’d never leave Becky for me, or any woman, I do believe. I know I wouldn’t. That’s all I really know about you for sure, Mystery Man. You would never leave Becky! But that’s a lot to know!
Bo unfastened her bra, threw it on the foot of the bed, then stepped out of her panties. Sam had rolled onto his back while she was gone. She leaned over and pulled off Sam’s boxers.
***
At 2:30, they took turns using the small shower to wash off the salty sweat of sexual exertion. Bo donned her blue bikini and wandered aft and sat in a blue canvas deck chair, taking in the sounds and smells of the harbor. She had no idea where she would be tomorrow, but it would be somewhere else—not here. That thought saddened her. A few moments later, Sam joined her wearing a Hawaiian surfer bathing suit.
“Would you like something to drink? I make a mean Bloody Mary,” asked Sam.
She looked up wistfully, smiled, and answered, “Sure, why not? No! I’d rather have a tropical drink. Do you have any rum? Something Mai-tai-ish? I want to pretend I’m a jillion miles away—on a tropical island somewhere where there are no Mondays.”
Sam looked at her, sensed her mood. His was similar.
“Sure, pretty lady. Let’s see what I can come up with.”
He wandered back into the galley and started inventing. He wished she hadn’t mentioned Monday. He certainly didn’t want this to end. He could take off all the time he needed to, but he had all but forgotten that she was an FBI agent with a job waiting for her tomorrow. Then a plane back to Washington D.C.
