Marty
“So how did the job, go? I saw a hotshot team deploying on the news.” Gable’s question jarred me for a moment. I’d completely forgotten the fire, the crew, and everything else in my head but keeping up with the imp leading me in circles on the dance floor.
“We lost a slew of equipment, but it could have been worse.” I clenched my teeth, memory constricting earlier, oxygen-starved, lungs. I leaned on the wall behind me, replaying in my mind my most recent disaster. Not the moment my oxygen had cut off, but the fact I’d thought about letting the inevitable happen.
For a moment, I’d considered cashing out, and it hadn’t seemed like a bad idea. Insurance would pay out and pay off. Worries done, day end. Game over. Not until the wind shifted, clearing smoke from the air and providing oxygen for me to breathe, did I remember Jack, my father-in-law.
The old fucker wouldn’t know what to do without me to keep him straight. And that wasn’t my ego talking. We’d been through too much together for me to bale early on him.
“Equipment check before we go out again,” I told Gable. Maybe a head check, too. “My breathing equipment shut down. Had the wind not shifted, it would have been my ashes coating Clyde’s vineyard.”
We were Smoke, Inc.—in this case—smokejumpers for hire. We’d been employed from half way around the world by a friend of my late wife, Kitty Jones. Her buddies ranged from royalty to thugs and all of them had loved her. They didn’t all share the same affection for me. But sometimes, knowing Marty Jones still proved handy for them.
This was one of those times. Clyde Ramsey had called when he required a clean-up for one of his problems. Clyde considered me a janitor for the rich which was fine. Dirty jobs didn’t bother me a bit. And they usually paid well. He’d had a fire needing doused and I knew his check was good.
“Marty, my people identified a wildfire. Two spotters already pinned it. Hell, it might be out of hand, already. The government’s broke. I’m not. I want you to put it out before it gets worse.”
Smoke mobilized a crew and had boots and equipment on the ground eight hours after first contact. Once there, it had been easy to see Clyde’s spotters had started the fire when they’d tried to clear brush with a drip torch.
“We’ll collect for our lost equipment. Clyde will pay out a hell of a lot more in fines if the feds realize his people were responsible for the disaster. The locals probably already suspect, but that’s the client’s problem.”
I really didn’t want to talk business. I scanned the room until my gaze settled on my dance partner.
“Where’d you find her?” I continued leaning against the wall next to the snack machine and sipping water. In case he didn’t understand my meaning, I nodded toward Marilyn now standing in the bathroom line.
“Baby Dolls,” Gable answered, not misunderstanding the question.
“She’s one of Maxine’s escorts?” Didn’t seem possible. Even vamped out in red lipstick, Marilyn mole, and a blonde wig, it was still a laughing kid, wearing four inch go-to-hell heels on her already six-foot frame.
“She okay?” Gable asked.
I finished the water and eyed my dance partner. My query, considering my general disinterest in women since Kit died, no doubt flagged Gable’s attention.
“Once we settled on who was in charge, she got okay.” Okay, like hell. I hid my smile. She’d matched me beat for beat, and I’d actually had fun, something that hadn’t happened in years.
“You see her dancing by herself, giving me the cold shoulder?” I’d been dancing alone for six years and never wanted a partner. But I wanted this one. “She’s a fucking wild woman.”
“She’s hot stuff,” Gable agreed but I was sure he was talking about Harley-Jane since that’s who he stared at.
“Didn’t plan on staying the night.” The audience had gotten considerably bigger and they were eating our shit up. My couple of hours had expanded, and instead of wearing me out, my partner had me rocking.
Kit would have loved her.
Gable pulled me away from that fleeting thought, when he nudged me and pointed at the two women entering the men’s toilet.
“I think your wild child’s teachin’ my sweet girl to misbehave.”
I snorted, hard-put to keep a grin from showing. Wild Child sounded about right. Especially when she came sauntering back to the dance floor.
Jesus. My cock tried to punch a hole in my pants and I wasted no time escorting her back onto the dance floor where I concentrated on the music and tried to forget about her tits now on display.
She’d ditched the jacket, and even though the luscious breasts framed by the halter straps on Marilyn’s dress were no doubt fake, I and every other bozo in the room enjoyed the show. I had to resist the urge to cop a feel. I settled for pulling her against my chest and hugging her tight. Squashed between us, the tits felt real.
I’d been awake for over thirty-six hours, fighting a fire on the other side of the country during most of the time. But the Marilyn impersonator’s sassy strut and perfect timing had me on high alert with adrenaline pumping through my veins.
I rolled her into my embrace, bent her over my arm, and held her for a beat too long while my nose brushed a spot on her neck, and I scented green apples. Jesus. I wanted to eat her up.
The brat spun loose and danced another circle around me. I could hear laughter and applause, and I knew it was for her. I figured I’d better rope her in and remind her who was boss.
I linked our hands, whirled her into my arms, and duck-walked her across the floor, pressing my hard-on against her rump to the beat of The Kingsmen singing Louie Louie.
My uncontrolled bodily response surprised me. I hadn’t had any spontaneous flare ups of lust since well before Kit died. Now I had a full-blown erection for a kid working the skin trade. Shit.
Holly
If he noticed the change in my costume, my partner didn’t mention it. Nevertheless, when Marty’s hand rested on the bare skin of my back, I wished I’d left the jacket in place.
And then the DJ abandoned the fifties and changed things up with Elle King and modern swing.
“One, two…” I started counting. As I swayed to Elle’s sound, my hips followed the teasing beat. A grin spread over Marty’s face and he started snapping his fingers and shadowing my moves. What a dance partner. He wasn’t good. He was splendiferous.
The crowd went nuts, clapping and cat-calling their encouragement. And true to my disguise, Marilyn put on a show, teasing, taunting, and flirting to music. Marty laughed out loud, reeled me in, and bent me back over his arm.
His laughter changed to a surprised grunt when his nose brushed my shoulder. He stayed low so long, I was afraid he’d gotten tangled in the wig, somehow. Me being me, I didn’t want him snuffling my shoulder.
I had a sinking feeling my deodorant had stopped working three or four hundred spins before. So, I improvised, dancing away from him to give his nose a break from eau du sweaty Holly.
Should have known it wouldn’t suffice. He captured my hand, turned me so my back plastered to his front, and danced us forward. Aside from his junk grinding against my butt, I was in heaven. Ginger and Fred couldn’t have done it better.
Time blurred, and gradually the music slowed until we stopped doing fancy and just leaned on each other. The four-inch heels brought my mouth level with his chin. If I tipped my head the slightest bit, and he did the same, our lips would meet.
The night ended as we danced to Elvis singing Fools Rush In, and I tilted my chin, gazing up at my dance partner. His mouth lowered to mine, our lips touched, his lingered for a moment, then withdrew.
I sighed. Applause sounded in the background, and cameras flashed, bringing me out of my trance. I’d forgotten where we were.
“Ten hours, forty-five minutes, and ten seconds. But who’s counting, right?” The microphone crackled weird electronic noises as the DJ made his announcements.
The floor had filled and emptied again while we danced. I hadn’t paid any attention to the time since I’d taken my one fifteen-minute break.
Whoa. What a ride. I started to ease away, readying to leave, but my dance partner caught my arm, stopping me.
“Standing still isn’t a good idea,” I muttered. Tired hit me in double time.
Marty must have felt the quaking of my legs, because he dropped my wrist and circled my waist. Sweet. I slumped against him and gazed blearily up ready to say goodnight, or morning, good something, and totter away.
His eyes were heavy-lidded, his chin covered in heavy morning stubble, and his pink shirt a wrinkled mess.
I hated to think what I looked like. I figured when I pulled the wig off, a puddle of sweat might gush out as well. Nor did I want to investigate the black dot on Marty’s shirt. It looked suspiciously like the beauty mark representing Marilyn’s mole.
Rather than retrieve it, I’d factor the cost of its replacement into the dry cleaning before I returned Roger’s dress. My thought tangled with another. I need to borrow cab fare.
“Sponsors of Smoke, Inc. Team One, prepare to write those checks,” the DJ announced.
I expected a smattering of applause, not the huge roar, greeting his words. Evidently, local news channels had been light on death and murder the night before, so they’d fallen back on the “phenomenal dance for cash” going on.
Anyway, we’d made News at Eleven, and because of that, call-in pledges poured in and the station sent a crew over to film the rest of the dance. Wow. Marilyn and Boss were celebrities.
Cameras flashed as Marty raised our linked hands in a victory salute. On the stage, the DJ started putting away his equipment. After we finished posing, I untangled our fingers.
Barbara Carlson, a tough-talking local news woman had me in her sights as she crossed the room, her film crew trailing behind. Uh oh. “I don’t do interviews,” I muttered.
Marty blocked her before she got close, and I eavesdropped since the conversation concerned his dance partner—me.
She led with a friendly request aimed at him, not me. “Just a few words with your partner.”
No, no, a thousand times no… I didn’t want to talk to her or the news media because a) Maxine had sent me; b) I had day jobs; and c) my life was nobody’s business.
“Sorry, Barb. We’re tired. Call my office later.” He stopped her from getting to me, and her tone turned spiteful.
“So, good to see you’ve found someone to replace Kit.”
I wondered who Kit was when Marty’s newly-minted amiable expression congealed into a blank stare. He brushed her aside and steered me away from them, keeping his body between me and the camera. “We’re tired. Glad the family will get some help.”
“Thanks,” I told him, leaning closer to keep our conversation discreet and maybe to have a final whiff of his expensive cologne. He was big, strong, taller than me, and after a night of sweaty fun, he still smelled good. What was not to like. I smiled up at him. “Who’s Kit?”
His expression changed from friendly to hostile. “My wife was my last dance partner.”
“You break up or something?” Go me, ever the persistent. Well, I was interested in him, and if he’d just gotten a divorce or broken it off with someone he was likely looking for a fling which I didn’t do, and I thought my question appropriate.
“She died.”
“Oh.” I squeezed out a final, “I’m sorry.” Ever the subtle me. I intended to put this example of my klutziness behind me and move on to something more on my social level like, socket wrenches and miter saws.
“You sellin’ fucks this morning?”
Whoa. Shit. Damn, on so many levels. I’d completely forgotten the role I was playing. Way to cool me down fast.
“No,” Marilyn said and clocked off.
To heck with the sore feet, I strode away from Maxine’s client without a backward look. Except I didn’t leave him behind, he walked beside me, his long legs matching my stride.
“Breakfast?”
He’d obviously not gotten my mental memo. The night was at end. We didn’t know each other. I, Holly Smith, had a life to live which didn’t include widowers who used crude words to solicit paid sex. After twining with him all night, I might have succumbed to his charm if he’d asked nice. I’d been thinking about it so there was no point in getting self-righteous.
I didn’t have to worry about the outcome since his asking nice hadn’t happened. With my eyes focused, on where I’d left my jacket and coat, I walked toward the table and ignored him.
Common sense melted the ice in my veins. For the night, I’d been representing Maxine’s Baby Doll Escort service. If he’d heard the same rumors I’d heard, Marty Jones had every reason to believe I might sell a little something on the side.
When I remained mute, he added, “At least, let me feed you. Your stomach growled in time with the music.”
“Oh, you, flatterer.” I murmured the silly words and batted Marilyn eyes at him instead of the nasty smack down resounding in my head. Even so, a flush of embarrassment washed over me. Or maybe it was the way he leaned closer. For whatever reason, I felt breathless, dizzy. Damn.
“You’re crowding me, bozo.” I snarled. And this time, it wasn’t Marilyn talking. “I don’t want breakfast.”
“My name’s Marty, not bozo. What’s yours?”
“Marilyn.” My brain took that moment to telegraph that certain body parts had endured enough—first and foremost, my feet. Without the artificial high of music, I wanted nothing more than to step out of the four-inch heels and slump on a chair.
Gable and Janie wore coats and waited with bad news. “Got a problem, Marty.”
The two men went into a huddle and left me with Janie.
“We’ll all have to get together, again,” Janie assured me, making small talk. “Marty smiled all night. Just wow.”
Evidently, a smile from Marty was rare. His wrinkled brow and frowny frown earlier in the evening had given me a good indication of his usual surly mood.
Her hope of more together times surprised me. Yes, we’d bonded over home upgrades, but it was casual fill-in-the-time talk, not really bosom buddy stuff. This was a one-time date, and I liked her; but a future foursome that included Marty and me just wouldn’t be happening
“I really need to get out of here,” I told her. “I doubt we’ll meet again, so thank you for sharing your table and remodeling tips.” There, I’d done my duty. But the way she gazed anxiously at Gable, it didn’t take a genius to figure something was wrong.
Something which is none of my business. I looked at the two men deep in conversation. Marty Jones had already forgotten my existence. It seemed the perfect time to slip away.
“I hope everything’s all right,” Janie continued as if I knew what was going on.
“I’m sure they can handle anything.” I picked up my bolero jacket, shrugged into it, folded my heavy coat over my arm and started for the exit.
Marty beat me to the door and had it open waiting when I arrived. Which was good since I’d forgotten I needed cab fare.
“I’d like to borrow twenty dollars,” I said quickly.
He pulled out his wallet and handed me a hundred-dollar bill.
“I don’t have change.” I could feel my face flame. Obviously, I didn’t have change. “I’ll pay you back.” I was also dumping whatever money Maxine paid me into the donation fund.
“You can get change at breakfast.”
I noticed his penchant for using imperative sentences. They didn’t work on me. I didn’t like being bossed around.
On the other hand, not being stupid, I didn’t disagree. I’d found it easier to let people believe what they wanted. Regardless of his plans, I’d be peeling away the first moment possible. He’d get his change by way of Maxine.
Janie watched the exchange, with, I thought, a hint of disapproval. Since I didn’t need her approval, I should have kept my mouth shut. But, I didn’t. “Cab fare. I’ll get change for him at breakfast.”
Beside me, Marty grunted in what I assumed to be satisfaction. Okay, he thought I’d been out-maneuvered. When Marty reached for my arm, I stepped away.
“I don’t need a guide to find the elevator,” I muttered. I was off the clock, and Mr. You-sellin’-fucks-this-morning did not need to be steering me around.
“It was an interesting evening,” I told him politely.
“It ain’t over ’til it’s over,” he agreed.
“It’s over,” I stated.
“You owe me change,” he said, and I noticed his perpetual frown had changed to a smirk.
What the heck? I fumbled with the hundred, getting ready to shove it down his throat. He was saved when a cop stepped in our path, and interrupted our conversation.
“Hey Marty. Someone took a crack at your Hummer.”
“Yep. That’s what I heard.”
Of course, he owned a Hummer. When I would have dropped back a bit, he reached over and held my arm. Not tight, not hurting, but detaining. He continued to talk to the cop as I stood beside him, trying to tone down my desire to kick his ass.
The man-huddle subject was revealed. Marty’s vehicle had been one of several vehicles parked in the reserved section of the parking garage and vandalized during the dance-a-thon. Rather than interrupting our dance, Gable had answered the license plate all-call, shut off the alarm, and taken care of initial city police business.
I hadn’t heard an all-call. From Marty’s surprised look, neither had he. Unfamiliar feminine pride fluttered inside me as I realized he’d been as mesmerized as me. Uh huh.
“Normally, we’d have come to get you, but no way was anyone interrupting your dance. Damn Marty. I even started calling people and getting pledges when you passed five hours.” The cop tipped his chin respectfully at me as well. Evidently, our marathon dance had earned a lot of green for the cause.
All that praise didn’t make my feet feel better. It was time to leave. I shrugged off Marty’s hold and stepped away. The strappy sandaled four-inch heels, uncomfortable even at the beginning of the evening, scraped against a blister on top of a blister on my heel. I winced.
“We can drop you somewhere if you need a ride.” Janie made an offer I couldn’t refuse.
“Just downtown. That would be great.” Get me downtown, and I’d go to Maxine’s office and wait for Megan or Roger to pick me up. Walking at this point just wasn’t going to happen. I leaned down, unstrapped my shoes, stepped out of them, and wiggled my toes.
Better. The men were still talking, their backs turned. No one else was around so I made an executive decision.
“Hold these.” I handed Janie the shoes, reached under my skirt, unhooked the nylons, and began rolling the left one down and off. Maybe he heard my sigh of relief, because as I worked on the second one, Marty turned his head and watched me step barefoot on the carpeted floor.
I bared my teeth at him, daring him to make a crack. He didn’t. His expression remained blank, which made me feel like an exhibitionist.
When he returned to his conversation and stopped gawking at me, I tucked the hundred-dollar bill I’d been palming into a shoe along with the balled nylons.
Normally I would have stuck it in my bra, but thanks to the Marilyn dress, I wasn’t wearing one. And, I definitely didn’t trust the dress’s under-support to hold me, let alone my money.
When the male parlay ended, and we continued to the elevator, Marty again made himself my escort. I couldn’t avoid noticing that the distance between us had altered. Four inches shorter and I really had to tilt to meet his gaze.
The cop, Gable, and Janie stepped inside the cubicle when the doors slid open. Beside me, Marty noticed my bare feet and took the shoes from me.
“I don’t need help carrying—”
“Get in,” he ordered me and stepped inside the elevator. I had the choice of staying in the lobby bare foot and once again broke, or following him to retrieve my shoes and money.
Or, I could wait in the manager’s office and call someone. I thought of the big-eared kid and nixed that idea.
“Promise he’s not an axe-murder,” I muttered to Janie as I gazed at my shoes in Marty’s hand. I wasn’t reassured by her murmured disclaimer.
I entered the elevator and rode upstairs with Marty who stood so close to me we could have continued our dance. Once we arrived, the men took off, leaving Janie and me together to follow them across the cement floor.
“Ugh. Some cretins spray-painted nasty words on a Mercedes, keyed the side of an Audi, and slashed the tires on a Cadillac Escalade.” Apparently, Janie had already seen the damage when Gable came to take care of business.
“Why?”
“Who knows,” she answered and shrugged. “Guess they took pity on us peons driving the work trucks. They didn’t touch Gable’s F150. They did a job on Marty’s Hummer though. The back window’s been smashed.” She stopped and pointed at the monster sized SUV before us and then at the garage floor.
Well damn. I scrunched my bare toes and stared at the broken glass, then at the tough, massive, gas guzzling, vehicle. Not new, but neither was Marty. I sneaked a quick look his way. A little gray sprinkled in the thick dark hair. He needed his eyebrows trimmed. And a shave. Maybe not. The scruff looks good.
I kind of wanted to reach up and run the back of my hand along his jaw. I mean, at the beginning of the night he’d been clean shaven. He had dark stubble now.
“What?” He caught me staring at him.
“I thought they quit making those,” I muttered, motioning toward the Hummer. I felt a blush creep up my neck. I don’t know how long I’d been ogling him.
“Lucky I got one before that happened,” he said and focused his attention back on the cop. Which was fine. I went back to being nosey. I eavesdropped as much as I could since nothing else was happening and my toes were getting colder by the minute.
I don’t know if he heard my teeth chattering but after a quick look my way, he wrapped things up fast. The cop couldn’t have been more in awe if he’d been shaking the President’s hand and agreed to whatever Marty said.
A security guard on duty had responded to the car alarm, but not fast enough. No one had been caught physically or on the camera pointing at this section of the parking area.
“Camera was okay this morning,” the cop said, pointing at the smashed monitor in the corner. “The security guard called it into the police, we took pictures, and you’ll have to go to the station when you can to sign some paperwork which I don’t have.”
I spied the security guard leaning against the wall with a broom, evidently waiting to remove the broken glass.
Marty walked around the vehicle, squatted next to it and looked underneath. When he stood again he looked at Gable and said, “Drop us off at the office.”
Oh, I don’t think so. I’d been too curious wondering about what was happening and indecisive about putting my stockings back on before I caught a ride downtown.
Gable lifted Janie into the waiting pickup, and I decided to take the elevator back downstairs to the main building.
Contrary to what I thought, Marty proved aware of my intentions. Before I’d taken two steps, he’d caught my arm, and stopped me. “Glass on the floor.” He picked me up, carried me to the truck, and opened the backdoor.
“You’re not going my way,” I assured him, uncomfortably aware of his hand cradling my ass.
“Yeah, I am,” he disagreed, and set me on the seat. Then he slid in close beside me and slammed the door.
He was a big man but not that big. He did not need to ride with his thigh pressing against my hip. But after Marty tucked my skirts closer, and buckled me in, I forgot about cold bare feet as his body heat raised my core temperature to burn. Whew.
Not being stupid, I knew where this was going. At least, where he labored to steer it.
“Janie,” I leaned forward. “Just drop me anywhere downtown.”
“Gable, I promised…” she paused, fumbling with a name for me since I’d asked her not to share earlier. Marty inserted himself in the discussion.
“She’s got blisters on her feet, no socks to put on, and she’s dressed like Marilyn Monroe, for fuck’s sake.” He turned to me. “I don’t bite. You can use a phone in my office if you want to call for a ride. Or hell, I’ll call an Uber driver to take us to breakfast before you go home.”
Yeah right, and you’d have my address. Not happening that way, Mr. Jones. “Okay.” I didn’t need to change my plan. I checked my watch. It was eight in the morning. Baby Doll’s Escort Service occupied an office on the fourth floor of the Smoke, Inc. building.
I could use Maxine’s phone and at the same time make certain she charged Big Boss out the wazoo for his dance time. He could afford it. He didn’t appear to give two shits about his Hummer. Maybe I’d get my fancy faucet, after all.
Marty
I had no idea how Maxine worked. Did she recruit or take applications? Did she offer protection for her girls? She should. That thought made me wince. Just what we need, hired thugs strolling in and out of the building.
Again, I realized I might have been hasty in offering Maxine office space in Smoke’s new building. But, the possibility of unwinding that contract wasn’t enough to distract me from the immediate focus—my dance partner. I’d been painfully erect most of the night. Her “no” when I offered to pay her for sex should have deflated me.
Instead of embarrassed and backing off, my cock had no shame. Mild interest had changed to primitive need when I’d seen her stripping off her stockings. Long legs. I’ll start with those wrapped around me for breakfast.
Instead of worrying about the Hummer, the business, or the bad weather, I absorbed her heat and the ice I hadn’t known I carried in my veins, thawed as I sat next to her in the truck. Earlier, she’d been an uninhibited wild woman pumping rhythm through her veins. Picturing her dancing with me horizontally, had me rock hard.
But since the music had ended her sly grin had gone into hiding. I wondered about who she really was. Without the flush of exercise, her face seemed pale. I stole looks at her during the ride across town.
She sat next to me, clearly pissed-off at my maneuvering. It had been easy enough to get her in Gable’s truck. I’d resisted yelling at her. Dammit, if she planned to make her living selling fucks, trusting and vulnerable were not good attributes to display.
A babe in the woods. Closer scrutiny assured me she wasn’t a teenager. Still, compared to my thirty-eight years, she seemed young. That thought along with a million others popped into my head. I wondered if I was getting loopy from lack of sleep. It felt as if my brain had kicked into overdrive.
“Gettin’ bad out again.” Gable switched on his wipers, cranked up the heat, and turned on the radio, creating an oasis of quiet safety in the cab of the vehicle. I relaxed.
“Our twelve-hour marathon earned a lot for the family.” I felt good about the night. I felt great about her. Hell, she’d worked her ass off earning money for a guy she didn’t even know. I nodded my appreciation and added, “Make sure Maxine pays you accordingly.”
She gave a startled jerk at my reminder. Maybe I’d been a little gruff. I tried to paste on a pleasant look. I hadn’t intended to get to know my night’s partner but after twelve hours of sweaty familiarity, I couldn’t seem to step back into impersonal.
Paying a woman to let me screw had never been my thing. On the other hand, I now considered the possibility of doing just that. Truth. I’d not wanted to fuck for a long time.
But pressed tight against her side, with the snow outside the window cocooning us in a white veil of privacy, and her scent combining with mine in the backseat of Gable’s truck, I had a prodigious hard-on, making it clear my days of abstinence were over. She’d said no. Maybe she’d change her mind.
“Before we eat, I need to stop at my office,” I told her, abruptly making up my mind. She didn’t object.
Due to it being an early Saturday morning, the company parking lot was empty when Gable pulled into his space. We had the place to ourselves.
“You want me to send over a car?”
“I’m good. Have the shop bring the Hummer over here when they replace the back glass.”
It was now or never. I pasted on my I don’t give a shit whether you come with me or not look and glanced at my dance partner.
Marilyn, huh. Costume or not, I already knew a lot more about her than she wanted to share. After she took off the jacket earlier, she’d fidgeted with the straps on her dress, making me certain she didn’t usually flaunt her tits.
Her skin was as soft as a baby’s. I didn’t see much makeup left. No surprise since she’d been chewing the red lipstick off earlier, and it had disappeared hours before. Even without artifice, her mouth offered kissable lips. We’d touched mouths at the end of the dance. Not enough. I ached to taste her again, maybe suck on that full bottom lip before I slid my tongue…
Jesus. I fumbled for control, fighting the desire to go caveman and throw her over my shoulder, hauling her to my place. My place being my office. I stalled mentally for a moment wondering where I’d dropped my discarded dirty clothes.
She shifted on the seat next to me, and her thigh rubbed against mine. Bare legs ready to wrap around and ride. I stifled a groan. If she was driving up the price, I didn’t care. She was a consummate artist-at-work—tease, seduce, tempt.
I opened my passenger door and stepped out, reaching back for her. She’d already unhooked her belt and grabbed her shoes. Miss Independent clearly didn’t need a hand from me.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to drop you somewhere else?” Janie asked her as she scrambled away from me and out the other side.
“I’m fine,” she murmured.
“You got this, boss?” Gable asked, a hint of laughter in his voice.
“You know it.” I closed the door, stepped back, and Gable drove away, removing the barrier between Marilyn and me.
Holly
I’d expected more people to be around mid-morning in parking building, even if it was a Saturday. But apparently, the weather had kept people home, and, except for my dance partner angling for another kind of dance, things were quiet. I wasted no time heading for the closest exit which happened to be the elevator going up to the ground floor.
He didn’t say a word. Nor did he touch me. We walked side by side to the elevator, stood silently waiting for the doors to open, then stepped inside, and fell on each other like animals.
I don’t remember who started it. I’ll say he did. Geez. I did have enough sense to come up for air and hit the number four button, but unfortunately not before his finger did the walking to punch Floor Twenty.
I’d forgotten about taking off my silk stockings until he proved to be ambidextrous. The hand not claiming the elevator controls, found its way under Marilyn’s skirts.
Hot fingers scorched their way up my bare thigh and straight to the thong. Before I could stop him, I stopped the elevator. For the record, I’d meant to punch button four, but hit pause. Our ride jerked to a halt, stranding us between floors.
Marty pushed aside the scrap of cloth covering me and went straight for the gold. Heat from his big paw, pressure on my clit, slippery wetness below. My common-sense circuits shorted-out at that point, and I happily let my body take charge as he worked me with his hand. At the same time, he sucked on one nipple, then the other. Oh. My. God.
I whimpered.
“Oh yeah, sweetheart,” he murmured. Then he went back to worrying the bud he’d abandoned to cheer me on, scraping it with his teeth. I arched higher, giving him more breast to play with. “That’s it, baby doll. Come for papa.”
Honest to God his rumbled order pushed me so close to the edge, when he bit the sensitive tip he’d been sucking, I shuddered, threw back my head, and screamed my climax to the world. Incoming… Wow.
My God. If I’d been struck by a bolt of lightning, I couldn’t have been more stunned. Literally. I slumped over his arm like a sack of potatoes.
The doors opened, he scooped me into his arms, and carried me out of the neutral zone into his lair.
The doors closed. As I began to recover from the orgasm to end all orgasms, I reconsidered our destination. He kissed me, diverting my attention back to him. I kissed him back and fumbled with his zipper, freeing the erection he’d been teasing me with all night. He growled when I touched it with my hand.
I wanted to crane my neck and look down at it, but he recaptured my mouth, and I couldn’t see.
I finally came up for air long enough to sneak a quick peek at his junk. Seeing the size of the shaft, and the even thicker head, I froze.
This was reality check time. Did I really want to do this? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
I had no time to express my doubts. He carried me into another room, slammed, then locked the door behind us, and growled, “Rubber.”
Good thinking. That interrupted things long enough for me to catch my breath.
“I don’t have a condom.”
He looked astonished. I suppose under the circumstances he had that right. But, I didn’t carry condoms, and apparently, neither did he.
“Wrap your legs around my waist.”
I obliged. He slid a finger inside me, and my body went into I’m going to have another orgasm mode.
He leaned me against the locked door, pushed my thong aside, rubbing his engorged flesh against my swollen clit. The only thing stopping full penetration was my inability to scale his frame and get the angle right.
“Bathroom,” he mumbled, carrying me along with him as he crossed the room.
“Let me down.” No way. I really hadn’t lost my senses that much. My first time was not going to be in a john.
Before I could get free, he hauled me into the washroom, fumbled in a drawer, and grabbed a condom. Oh, okay. I guess in the grand scheme of things, it really didn’t matter.
“Lift up.”
I did, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs higher as he covered up. And then, he sat me on the edge of the sink, and pushed inside me. I was wet and ready. But…
“Christ you’re tight,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against mine as he held onto my hips.
“Sorry,” I muttered, in acute discomfort. It seemed like a bad time to mention he was scoring where nobody had ever scored before.
“Work it in for me, baby,” he growled and moved a hand to explore my sex. When he fingered my clit, things below improved.
Not for long though. He grunted and surged forward, nailing me to the sink. Whoa. Not the most romantic way to lose my cherry. He didn’t seem to notice or mind.
“Jesus,” he laughed. “We can do better than this.”
You think? He kept me anchored to him, his cock stretching the walls of my channel as he carried me to the couch in the office.
He pushed a blanket aside, sat down with me still straddling him, and ordered, “Ride me until I see stars, sugar.”
My knees were spread wide, as were the lips of my sex. He filled me, and every time he moved, he nudged my clit.
The straps of Marilyn’s halter dress fell, exposing my breasts to his gaze. “Oh, yeah. Wanted to look at these babies all night. They’re real, right?”
Real what? I looked down at them, trying to see what made them so special. I must admit, I’d never appreciated their greatness before. When he again scraped a bullet-hard peak with his teeth, I lost that thread of thought, and shuddered.
“Fucking beautiful,” he whispered, and covered the nipple, working it between his lips.
When my internal muscles clenched around him, sucking him deeper inside of me, he growled, “Like that don’t you?”
Yes, yes, I do. I ground down, reaching for another release, which I found. I bucked against him as he thrust up, holding me in place as he buried himself deeper, ushering my ongoing orgasm into another.
“Dance for me baby. Don’t stop.”
I followed his lead and then made up moves of my own.
“Not gonna come, yet,” he growled more than once. “Been a long time.” He rolled me under him without missing a beat.
That and, “Sweet, fucking sweet,” were the extent of his conversational gambits. But most of what I heard was garbled, and being otherwise occupied, I might have missed some of it.
I know at one point, me being bare up top with him not, pissed me off. I’d jerked his coat off, and managed a button or two on the shirt, before he’d ripped the rest open. Skin to skin. Flesh to flesh. Oh, my God. It was awesome. Likewise, he lost his pants someplace along the way.
He had me wasted, limp, and drooping over his chest before he growled, “Coming home, baby.”
I nodded weakly when he grasped my butt, pumping me up and down as his hips jerked in an erratic rhythm.
Goose bumps spread up his arms, and he shifted his hold from my rear to my shoulders, pushing me down against his groin as he ground his flesh against the spread lips of my sex, fusing us. He exploded inside me, releasing jets of wet heat splashing against the walls of my channel.
“Fuck me, baby. You’ve got one more in you. Come with me.” And even as I felt his cock spurt inside me, he pressed his thumb to my clit, took my mouth with a deep kiss, and pushed me into my final-final release. Oh. My. God. I passed out for a minute.
I opened my eyes, not expecting to see him in a dead slump. Then I wasn’t sure it was a slump. Geez, what if I’d killed him?
Death by sex with Holly. I leaned closer. He was breathing. Okay. Things below were uncomfortably wet.
Marilyn’s dress would never recover but… I scrambled off, holding my skirts high enough to try and avoid additional fluids. I was leaking.
Marty was totally out. So was his penis, though even limp it remained an impressive size. I frowned. He’d worn a condom. I could see no condom anywhere.
Where the heck is it? I visited his bathroom, and discreetly probed inside myself. I was very, very wet. Gross. I found the rubber inside me and retrieved it. Good God, and double yuck.
My mental faculties resumed working, and I didn’t waste any time getting on my way. After I’d tidied as much as possible, I left the bathroom and headed out the door.
My dance partner woke long enough to say his version of “thank you for the dance” and “good night”.
“Tell Maxine to send me the bill.”