Three the Hard Way: A Play in Two Acts (24 page)

Part III

The Buckhead Ritz Carlton wasn’t far from Bell Bottoms, so there wasn’t much time for uncomfortable small talk about what was going to happen once we reached the hotel. But somehow I couldn’t see this man being uncomfortable in any situation. I glanced over at him as I drove. He did comment on the fact that he hadn’t seen any cabs and how glad he was to have accepted my offer for a ride.

My offer.
Do you want me?
If I wanted to be honest with myself I was offering myself to him and I was feeling very apprehensive about it.
Do you want me?
Was all that just talk about me being a beautiful woman?

"Beautiful yes, but not desirable," I imagined him saying.

But no, he would let me down gently. "It wouldn’t be fair if we were to get involved," is more what he’d say.

Forget fair, I wanna get fucked.

I felt cheap.

I wasn’t
"that"
type of woman. I’d prided myself that during my fast and free days, I’d never had a one-night stand or even slept with a man on the first date. But here I was, a thirty-six year old divorced mother of two, perfectly willing to do just that. Sleep with a man I had just met at the club. A man who told me that he was catching a flight first thing in the morning. But the more I looked at him, the more I listened to that voice reverberating inside my head, the more I wanted him.

"Hoochie!" I called myself and smiled at the word I had used many times, but never in reference to myself. Now that I’d come to grips with what I was, the only question that remained was whether I was going to wait to be asked up to his room, or was I going to invite myself.

I pulled up in front of the Ritz. I felt it was only proper to let him take the lead, but I was ready to jump in at any point if he drifted away from my objective. "Well, here we are," he said.

"It seems that way," I said.

"It wasn’t that far at all."

"No, it wasn’t."

He smiled and unlocked his door. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to come up for a drink."

"Were you?" I was excited, but wouldn’t show it.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I was, then I thought why should I? Why should I say that?" I started to jump in but wanted to see where he was going with this. "When the truth of the matter is that I don’t want to drink with you. What I really want to do is ask you up so I can make love to you."

"I was going to say that I usually don’t do things like this, in fact, I’ve never done anything like this. But that’s not what I wanna say."

"What do you want to say?"

"That I would very much like to come up so you could make love to me."

He got out of the car and signaled for the valet to come park my car. He then came around and opened my door. He reached for my hand. Loving a gentleman, I gladly accepted it. We walked hand in hand to the elevator in silence. Words no longer seemed necessary. I was too nervous to speak anyway.

In the elevator I did give some thought to my safety. Suppose he was Jack the Ripper? Or the Boston Strangler? I rationalized my fears by thinking that people like that don’t stay at the Ritz Carlton. I was glad that the valet saw me, as did a few other employees in the lobby. But at that point I would be dead, and it wouldn’t matter to me anymore. I’ve always trusted my instincts, and I follow them implicitly, so I was pretty sure he wasn’t the wrong man.

We entered his dimly lit room and closed the door behind us. "Even though I said I didn’t want to drink with you, would you like a drink?"

"Thank you." I accepted, thinking that it might help me relax as I sat down on the bed.

I watched as he unlocked the mini bar and removed a bottle of Absolute Vodka and Pierre water. "They don’t have any lemon juice so I can’t make you a Vodka Collins."

"Vodka and Pierre will be fine."

He fixed my drink and poured himself a glass of Remy Martin. He sat down on the bed very close to me and sipped his drink, looking at me out of the corner of his eyes, watching as I sipped my drink. "Would you mind if I turned on some music?" he asked.

"That would be nice."

He put his drink down and walked around to the other side of the bed where he tuned the radio to a jazz station. The melodic sounds of saxophone filled the room. I took another sip that was more a swallow than a sip. I put the glass down as he stood before me. "Do you mind if I take a shower?"

"Do you mind if I join you?"
I can’t believe I said that.

"Only if you let me bathe you."

"Only if you let me bathe
you
."
Who are you?

"Deal," he said and extended his hand, which I accepted, unable to fathom just how nervous I was. Still coming to grips with what I was doing. No more time to rationalize, I stood up and my hand shook a little. He took both hands in his and gently raised them to his lips. I guess he could tell how nervous I was. "You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Carla," he said and kissed my hands.

"I want to."

He took a step closer and once again our bodies touched. He slowly tilted my head back. I closed my eyes in breathless anticipation of the fullness of his lips against mine. Maybe it was the alcohol, but his kiss, long and passionate, made my head spin. He released my hands and soon I felt his strong hands in the small of my back, drawing me close into his embrace.

I reached up, touched his shoulder, and glided my hands slowly down his back, finally resting them around his waist. He touched my hands, removing them from his waist. He stepped away causing our lips to part. He led me by the hand into the bathroom.

Once he turned the shower on, he reached out for me and kissed my lips a little more forcefully this time. He grabbed the nape of my neck and pulled me closer. He kissed my neck over and over again. My head drifted back. I was in ecstasy as he slowly and methodically worked the first of my weak spots. I reached behind my back and pulled down the zipper on my skirt. I began to wiggle my way out of it. He unbuttoned my blouse, slid it off my shoulders, and then used my neck as a gate to my cleavage; gliding his tongue along the lacy edges as I moaned.

I allowed my skirt to drop to the floor with my hands free to explore his body. I decided to see what kind of night I was going to have. I reached for his crouch, thinking what a shame it would be if he had me this hot from foreplay and didn’t have the tools to back it up.

I grabbed it, gently of course. My eyes opened wide, he smiled and unhooked my bra with one hand and quickly returned to my chest; moving my bra out of the way with his teeth, his tongue slide across my erect nipples.

My knees went weak.

I squeezed him, felt the firm length of his erection. Even though I felt him while we danced, it was completely different feeling him in my hand. I became more excited. Like a greedy crack fiend I quickly unbuckled his belt, unsnapped his pants, reached inside his briefs, and felt its warmth, then glided my hands up and down his shaft; distracted only by my bra sliding down my arms and dangling from my wrists.

We broke contact suddenly. He led me by the hand into the shower, picked up a bar of soap—Lever 2000, and not the hotel issued soap. He began rubbing the soap between his hands until both were lathered; heavily. I occupied myself by rubbing his rather large and very hard erection between my hands.

With the soap in one hand, he began to lather my body sliding his hands delicately over what felt like every inch of my body. Once again, my eyes drifted shut and my head drifted back as I continued to massage his erection. I always have been just a little dick happy, you know . . . excited to the point of smiling from ear to ear at the sight of one, and the feel of it in my hand. Soft and silky to the touch, yet hard and firm. "Oooh, my goodness!"

Once I had soap all over my body he pulled me to his chest, wrapped his arms around me and began to slide his body up and down against my soapy body, staring into my eyes the whole time.

"You are so beautiful," he said.

I tried to say something along the line of, "Thank you for the compliment," and I know my mouth was moving, but no words came out. All I could do was moan at the site of this man sliding his hard body against mine. The feeling of his chest against my nipples made them swell. His erection found its mark between my legs; it slid effortlessly across my soapy pubic hairs, occasionally finding its way to my clit.

"Turn around," he said.

I quickly complied, turning my body into the shower. He started again, sliding his body against mine. He massaged my breasts gently, squeezing my nipples as the water beat against my body washing away the soap. He then ran his hand across my stomach; fingering my navel. His hand made the occasional pass across my pubic hair. He started kissing and licking my neck, sucking and gently biting my ear lobes. Then his index finger found my clit. My eyes and mouth both opened wide; my other weak spot.

Again I tried to speak as his finger massaged my clit, again no words came out. His touch was soft and gentle, but firm all at once. It felt as if waves of current emanated from my clit and spread throughout my body. I reached for the wall to steady myself; my knees locked, my body shuddered from the inside out.

I forced myself to pull away from him. I quickly washed the remaining soap from his body and pulled him out of the shower. We toweled each other dry and I led him to the bed. On the way I gave some more thought to what I was doing here. The answer was simple. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye: at his face, then at his erection. "I’m fucking you tonight." I said under my breath.

"Did you say something, Carla?" he said as we arrived at the bed.

"Yes, lay down."

He quickly complied with my request. He laid spread eagle across the bed and I crawled across the bed to him. I looked at it again, gawked at it actually, and contemplated going down on him. I had broken all the rest of the rules, why not this one too? I asked myself as I straddled his torso.
Not today.
I grabbed hold of it and glided him inside me.

I was tight or he was big.

More like a combination of the two.

He smiled and placed his hands on my ass. As my hands dropped to his chest, he spread my cheeks and slowly moved me up and down, inching deeper and deeper inside me. The deeper he got, the wetter I got. Soon I was sliding up and down on him effortlessly. He didn’t move at first, he seemed very content to allow me to work at my own pace. My pace was slow and steady; there was a true rhythm to my movement, almost musical. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his stiffness inside me.

The thickness of him filled me, the warmth of him inside me—long and stiff—excited me. My hips shook. I began to quiver from the inside. I stopped moving, tried to slow my roll, but I couldn’t. My entire body was quivering uncontrollably.

For a second, maybe two or three, I felt like I was outside of myself. My excitement only proved to intensify the motion of my hips. He held me tighter, began to move with me. When I felt him throbbing inside me, I was no longer able to control myself.

My voice returned "Yes, baby yes!" I screamed as we thrust our bodies against one another.

I could hear him moaning quietly, his face twisted and contoured. He throbbed and I felt him expand. My fingers dug into his chest. His body became ridged. I pumped harder. His mouth was open; his eyes were locked in mine now. I knew now I had him.

Part IV

The annoying intrusion of the telephone ringing interrupted the bliss that was my morning. I reached out for the phone angrily, only to find that it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. I opened my eyes and quickly realized that it wasn’t just the phone that was out of place. I was too. "Hello," I said shyly.