“Why don’t you two just order some warm milk before bed time?” Donna scolded, although she herself despite having been there for more than an hour was barely through her first drink, the Husker on the other hand was playing camel, he was drinking water like he was heading out into the desert. Suddenly the Husker felt a little more comfortable, there was someone else he had met and conversed with. The two talked sports, just like the first time, but updating the conversation with what they expected out of the upcoming weekends games rather than ones that had already passed. Tiffany arrived wearing what could only be described as a shiny Bavarian milk maid’s dress, and heels that were not made for dancing in except for professionals in the skin trade.
When the next round of waters arrived, the Husker continued his camel routine, drinking water as if it could not only save him from conversation, but also make him invisible. This time Vincent gulped two bottles down in less than three breaths, slid to the side of the chair Nadrea was on, forcing her to move as he stood up and in his worst German accent “And now we dance!” Amusing himself with old Saturday night live skits in his head. Taking the milk maid’s hand in one of his, and then Donnas’ hand in the other he looks at the Husker continuing on with the bad accent, “Come along now Dieter!”
Not sure of what was happening, the Husker replied politely, “My name is Robert.” “Never mind, Bobby” Vincent said dropping the bad accent, “no fucking sense of humor! We’re going to dance and you’re coming with us.” And as he walked towards the dance floor with ladies in hand into the center where it was the closest and the hottest, the Husker followed. Vincent danced and danced some more. He was suddenly young again, it was like the clock had been set back 20 years and the only thing that mattered was the next song and the next rhythm. Tiffany found him quite alluring and the Husker tried to move with Donna, eventually losing some of his white bread box step awkwardness for a little genuine euphoria in his bounding steps. Nadrea took her chair back as the others at her table slowly snuck away to join the dancing. “I’m the queen of the club.” She thought to herself. But three songs later staring at the one remaining couple around her set of tables finally succumbed “Ahh, fuck it! Let’s dance.”
Again she was not in control, other men fell at her feet and he did whatever he wanted. Normally she would have been delighted to dance, but she wanted to make him uncomfortable, to do what she wanted, instead he was the party. She found them in the center, a dancing milk maid closest to him, but the other pariahs had started closing in, Vincent was surrounded by scantily clad dancers that varied in size and shape in costume and race. Mira had made it from hostess to dancing with him and Tiffany. “The bastard” Nadrea said out loud but no one heard or cared. She walked up to him placing herself between his two most obvious dancing partners and joined in.
As the song ended the next had a long symphonic opening and as many on the floor took a brief reprise to catch their breath Nadrea stepped closer in to Vincent. He looked her in the eye and smiled a wicked grin. Leaning into Mira asked may I touch you? She nodded her approval while showing a devilish grin. He put his arms gently around her, pulling her close looked deeply into her eyes and kissed gently and slowly, releasing her as if she was unimaginably fragile as he stepped back. Mira’s eyes seductively watching him not breaking contact with his as he brushed himself solidly across Nadrea moving over to Tiffany who was very well aware of the scene unfolding in front of her. “May I touch you?” he asked and without hesitation,
“Yes, any way you want to”
He took her firmly almost roughly in his arms, lifted her off the ground kissed her from the base of her neck and raised her higher off the ground until his lips met the lowest point of her cleavage not completely encased in latex, setting her down as solidly as he had picked her up. The song had started in earnest and the floor again heaved in it erotic rhythms, but Nadrea had seen enough, it was her turn. She dropped to her knees and kissed him from the base of his boots slowly up to his knees, her nails gently caressed his sweat soaked back.
Her teeth nibbled on his thighs as she passed over them. Her lips lingered on his crotch as she kissed her way up further to his stomach and in the valley that his muscular chest created. Past the base of his neck to the tip of his chin as he leaned down into her so she could reach. As she moved to his lips he kissed her back, deeply. As she tried to prolong the kiss he moved his head back
“Until later. Now we dance!” Looking back at Mira and Tiffany who were still watching as their bodies moved gently to the loud pulsating song. Nadrea had his attention, she had it the whole time his display was done just to provoke her and provoke her he had. Nadrea was never that intimate with anyone, people who knew her knew that she didn’t like to kiss and they had never seen her like she had just been with anyone. Nadrea never thought twice about it, she was marking her territory and making sure she had his interest. The other ladies however, would have been more than happy to share him.
More than an hour passed, the group dancing among themselves and with intermittent strangers. The Husker excused himself even camels have to pee, Vincent decided join him leaving the ladies on the floor.
“What was that out there?” the Husker asked with a farm boy’s wonder.
“No fucking clue, but I liked it.” Vincent admitted. Stopping by the much less crowed bar, he flagged their waitress down who was bored since her main tables for the night were obsessed with dancing and ordered a dozen bottled waters, 4 Apple-tini’s, 4 Chocolate- tini’s and a large glass of orange juice. Vincent slipped her a hundred. “Sorry, it’s my fault they’re dancing, so here’s a little extra for you.” She thanked him not looking right away but realizing moments later what he had done. The water bottles and the Martini’s arrived at the table, packed in silver buckets of ice. The Martini’s still in the shakers and the glasses submerged.
One o’clock rolled around and the group was mostly spent, they headed to the table to find the refreshments. Vincent once again took Nadrea’s chair this time she sat playfully across his lap, a move more befitting the previous night’s school girl look. Mira and Tiffany followed suit. Tiffany sat on one arm of the chair and Mira knelt by his feet. Nadrea kicked her, Vincent may not have even noticed her there, but her quite submission to him was not going to be tolerated by Nadrea. Mira soon after took the chair next to them. Most went straight for the water and then onto the other drinks Vincent with his OJ, the ladies with the Martini’s, the Husker however stayed with his water. They collapsed into the furniture, the sweat still poured from everyone’s skin before they could begin to dry. The rested and they talked. Tiffany and Mira babbled at each other about some unimportant similar interests. Donna draping her arms around the Husker on a couch, she was genuinely glad he was there. Nadrea squirmed on Vincent’s lap, traced his face with her fingers and fixed and re-fixed his hair. Soon it came time to go and this time Vincent was the first to leave, bidding his farewells, hugs and kisses for the ladies, jovial handshakes with them men.
He turned to Nadrea, “Care to join me?”
Nadrea responds “Only if we can bring those two” pointing at Tiffany and Mira.
“Fine by me.” He stated un-phased and headed for the door Nadrea was again following him. While he stood at the coat check, waiting on his belongings Nadrea caught up. “Where are the other two?” he asked.
“I can get them and I doubt you can keep up with the three of us. I’ve had them both and it takes a lot of effort. Besides I’m not in the mood to share tonight”
“Cool, more pancakes for me” as he put on his coat and again she followed him into the street.
Very late or Very early
He waited for her outside the club quietly enjoying the cold night air, facing the door took her in his arms and kissed her. They head up the street, he walked into the Hyatt. They take the elevator up. Nadrea wondered if he had planned this all along. It stopped at the top at Concierge Level and Vincent proceeded to his suite. Not certain what to expect f
rom the night, he had checked in on his way to the club. When they opened the door the dining area in the suite to the left of the couches was set up with stacks of serving trays, pancakes and eggs, fruit and cheeses. He had arranged to have the waitress from the club call ahead and tell them to prepare his pre-placed order when he started his good byes. As the door closed behind them Nadrea kissed him, their coats falling to the floor, his shirt tucked into his pocket. While he loosened her corset, he kissed her again and moved to the dining area. “Pancakes!” he exclaimed removing the lids from a variety of plates and scouring the over filled table looking for butter.
“They most definitely are not!” Nadrea said in reference to her own tits having removed her top and standing at the end of the hall way in her tight black pants that left little if anything to one’s imagination and dangerously high heels. Vincent would have to wait to eat, this time Nadrea wouldn’t be ignored, coming across and sitting on the floor in front of him. “Since you liked this from that little whore earlier,” she said sitting as his feet and untying and removing his boots. Vincent couldn’t help himself and had torn a piece of the pancake off and was dipping it into the syrup.
Nadrea noticing his distraction decided to feed him. “Go wash your hands, and be sure take your time. Trust me I’ll make it worth every single second you have to wait. You can eat when you get back.” While Vincent was gone she buttered the pancakes, cut them into bite sized pieces drowned each piece in syrup and gracefully removing her pants, laid immodestly on the coffee table in nothing but heels and strategically placed bite sized pieces of pancakes. Upon his return Vincent thought to himself perhaps the night might not be so bad after all.
“If you’re going to use your mouth it might as well be for something useful” Nadrea said confidently. “Make sure I’m not sticky when you’re done.”
Vincent laughed his hearty laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m starving.” Breakfast began as he used his mouth to gently remove each piece, getting every morsel and drop of syrup before moving to the next. He moved from her thighs up, delighting her over and over again with the calculated soft tactile sensation from his tongue, his teeth biting her skin gently, licking deliberately and sucking playfully,
Nadrea was not writhing in the external pleasure of the music and the movement and the lights, but in the release of her own lust and the pleasure of her own sensations. While pleasurable, he was not in any hurry, taking his time to enjoy every spot that had been covered. After the last morsels and their corresponding bits of her tempting flesh had been cared for he looked at her deep dark eyes and said “Now it’s time for a drink.” Moving away from her and finding a bottle of milk on ice at the far end of the dining room table. She fantasized about how he would use it. Would he drink it off her while it poured down her skin, would he puddle it in her navel and lap it up with his tongue? Or would he find a far more nefarious place to put it. But in true Vincent fashion, he took the first drink straight from the container, pausing she wondered if he even remembered she was there or had he already discarded her like a used plate for someone else to deal with once out of his sight?
A second time he raised the bottle to his mouth taking large gulp after large gulp until the bottle was half empty. Finally he moved toward Nadrea with the bottle still in hand, allowing the ice cold drops of water on the outside to fall randomly over her body, tracing the outside of her thighs with cold surface of the bottle, then slowly up the inside of her calves above her knees to her inner thighs and beyond. The cold of the bottle created a stark contrast to the heated flush of her skin. Moaning in delight while trying not move away from the cold, her mind still raced.
“Fuck me” she whispered into his ear as the bottle passed across her already erect nipples.
“I will, but we’re just starting” he responded touching her in ways she was most certain she had never been touched before. For a man of such strength and a cold look, he was gentle but not in an unmanly way, his very fingers on her skin conveyed a knowing erotic sense. Time continued to pass as her pleasure crested and fell only to crest again shortly. He was selfless in his attention to her, but she couldn’t wait any longer as she made her advances toward his still leather clad lower portions. Things can be deceiving and soon for Nadrea was to be her moment of truth, could what she experienced so far even begin to live up to her expectations of him that were yet to be realized.
“I get complaints all the time.” He said as he looked into her eyes while she unbuckled his belt. Her heart dropped, that explained his deliberate patience, his satisfying her over and over without concern for himself. He was over compensating. And as she undid his zipper she couldn’t help but look in amazement as it kept growing right in front of her. “Complaints?” she questioned his dick still not fully exposed.
“Too fucking big.” he said with a laugh, he was kidding. Playing, and being that annoying jerk.
She said “Hurt me, I want you to hurt me however you want.” It was Nadrea lost in his eyes not someone else who was lost in hers.
“I will” and with that he took her using every inch of her already exhausted body for his pleasure. A few minutes later while talking lost deep in the passion “I want you to hurt me” she said again Vincent pushing deeper and harder, their bodies drenched in sweat Nadrea screaming with delight as she was filled over and over again with rougher and rougher thrusts in steady intensifying rhythm. She moved to stand in front of him much like Susan the night before at the bar, leaning back pressing her back side into him “I like it dirty.” She said while reaching back and stoking him. “I like it dirty and I like it very rough.” Vincent was silent as he took her again right where she stood until both were complete and exhausted.
“I can’t stay” she said lying next to him after catching her breath.
“I know.” He responded. “Daddy might miss you and the library is about to open.” “Asshole!” she said with a laugh and a smile.
“What you thought that would change if you fucked me?” Vincent jousted back.
Nadrea got up to get dressed. The latex pants looked like more of a challenge than she cared to admit.
“I’ve got shorts in the bag over there.” he offered. Nadrea begrudgingly accepted. She readied herself and called down to make sure a cab would be waiting, at that hour of the night most of the time they were not. Vincent gave her a piece of paper with his cell number on it. And good byes were said. As she left, he placed the do not disturb sign on the door. Turned the TV on to ESPN, drew the shades and after his fourth shower in just under twenty four hours arranged for a late check out and a wakeup call before falling asleep on the couch in front of the TV.
Twenty Three
Christy was sitting in her apartment, The Post open in front of her pouring hot water into an oversized cup that had a Twinnings English Breakfast Blend tea bag sitting in it waiting for the water to strike and the flavor to seep out, which was of course the culmination of a tea bag’s purpose. While the tea bag served its purpose she wondered about her time last night with Michal. The conversation was measured, it was well paced and he had asked seemingly odd questions. They entered separately meeting at the table and left much the same way. Michal was well dressed, his hair was perfect. People in the Beltway said he had sold his soul to the devil, a bold accusation considering most people of power had done the same. Rumors abound that he only wore black suits and white shirts. This was not of course true, he mostly wore very dark grey suits, with varying shades of white in his shirt collection and would only on rare occasions wear a bright tie, they too were mostly solid and dark in nature. If Nadrea’s scent was the aroma of sex, Michal’s was that of the devil, tempting and seductive, yet evil. He was the kind of man who could and did move one’s career along, but at what price most were never quite sure. He was a riddle in and of himself, the product of greed and power. The descendent of lineage and intellect, but despite his blood lines more philanthropic beliefs he believed that power and influence were his gifts to the world.
He was of course right and he used them well.
By now Christy was on her second cup of tea, still playing and replaying the previous nights’ events. Why was she there? Had she in some way tipped her hand or provided insight not only into Robert’s thoughts and plans, like she really knew what they were at this point, she thought to herself. Or worse yet, had she given Michal a glimpse of what was inside of her. Surely a man like him couldn’t steal her soul over one dinner like he had done to so many others. Playing it over and over again what was it he said. For some unknown reason he kept making reference to the number 23 during the conversation. Early on during some warm up political banter he brought up the twenty third Amendment to the United States Constitution. At the time, she didn’t think it was odd, people in DC discussed old and seemingly irrelevant pieces of legislation on a regular basis so the debate and discussion over an amendment that had been proposed in June of 1960 and ratified in March of 1961 giving the District of Columbia electoral rights in the presidential election process, the electoral college in particular. She ran the conversation over and over staring at the paper, but not reading a word. Was she there because the Husker had greater political aspirations, was he considering the senate seat, or the governor’s race? Could it possibly be that he was considering a presidential run? It was of course unlikely, he was only a Representative from an agriculture state that had an appropriately sized population for what it was. She pondered and her mind turned and turned on this one. Was she being forewarned of these possibilities or was she being sized up to determine if she could keep her place in line and rise with him?
It Had Been Years Page 12