Irene was happy to be wearing Reeboks. “Jack Namath? You stop right there, mister.”
Well trained to a woman’s voice, Irene thought when he immediately came to heel. She had chased him, caught him, before he could disappear. Irene didn’t mince her words: “I don’t know what you think you saw, but you’re mistaken. He’s a pilot, Jack. Someone I worked with. And what you saw was strictly business. Understand?”
Jack turned and Irene felt a crack in her resolve as he ran his eyes over her short skirt. It wasn’t exactly business attire and they both knew it. But to his credit, he didn’t throw it up in her face.
“Business? What business!”
“He’s working with the Casino. He and some promoter from New York will be flying in a volleyball team. Some publicity stunt they’re working on. We were going over the flight details.”
The quickness and sincerity of her answer was convincing and in his heart, he wanted to believe her. She saw the bluster ease out of his shoulders and neck.
“Irene, I’ve been a complete ass. I apologize. I don’t know what else to say.”
Irene didn’t want to hear him beg. “You can start by asking me to dinner.”
“Dinner?” He checked his watch, “it’s not even two o’clock yet.”
Irene paused, plucked up her courage and decided to take the chance. “Then ask me up to your room,” she said.
Her words penetrated, turning his blood into high octane. Had he heard her right? She was offering it up? Right now? He took her by an arm and steered her toward the doors, not daring to say a word because he knew his voice would crack.
They took the elevator to the third floor and in his haste to get her inside, he dropped his key card and had to scramble for it. Jack heard Irene start to giggle and he thanked the Lord for that. He handed her the card with sweaty fingers. “Here. You do it,” he finally found his voice. “You’re so friggin’ smart.” And with a smirk, Irene obliged him, swinging his door open.
Jack’s room was standard hotel fair: Large double bed crowding the walls, round sitting table with two chairs and a bar fridge. But a sizable balcony extended beyond the sliding glass doors and faced a wall of waving palm fronds.
“I think I need a little something,” he said, moving toward the fridge. “You?”
“Vodka would be nice.”
“Sure,” he said and poured their drinks. He turned and saw her standing by the bed. He cleared his throat. “Let’s have these outside, shall we?” And Irene watched him practically race to the glass doors.
Outside, he polished off his scotch in two gulps and returned for a second drink. Irene slipped off her Reeboks and got comfortable in a lounger. The breeze came in off the ocean from beyond the line of palms; the trees so close you could reach out and shake hands with a frond. Irene listened to the murmur of the sea and stretched out enjoying the sun on her bare legs. Things had taken a sudden turn for the better and she felt content. And she had made up her mind: She wanted to make love. Wanted to feel him moving inside. Wanted to sleep with Jack Namath.
“Undress me.”
She had led Jack back inside by the hand and pulled across the sheers, throwing the room into soft rosy shadows. Irene turned and lifted her hair so he could slip the zipper down. When she came back around, she let the tennis outfit fall about her ankles. She wasn’t wearing a bra and the cool air touching her nipples had her writhing in delight. Her breasts felt swollen and heavy.
Jack trickled his fingertips along her ribs and paused momentarily with his thumbs tucked into the elastic waistband of her panties. He teased himself, and kneeling, he rolled the white lace over her hips and down her legs. He leaned forward and rubbed his cheek in the swath of soft, fragrant pubic hair.
“Do you like my shaved pussy?” Irene whispered. The words felt wild in her mouth and she pressed herself into him with a hand on the back of his neck.
“Yes. You’re perfect,” he murmured and touched the tip of his tongue to the moisture clinging in the hairs.
“I’m glad we agree,” Irene toyed with him. “Now please, take me to bed.”
He got to his feet and rounding the foot-board, lifted the sheet. Irene stepped past and trailed her fingers across his chest before slipping between the covers. It felt odd, going to bed in the middle of the day, a bit sinful even, and strangely delicious to feel the cool sheets on naked skin. She watched Jack quickly strip off his clothes and not meeting her eyes, he slipped down beside her. He took her in his arms and held her body against his. His mouth was on her and she reached down and cradled his soft penis.
He did his best not to moan into her mouth, but his head went back and he arched into her. The sigh from his throat was like the wind easing after a storm.
Irene swung up onto her knees and rolled him onto his back. While he lay shimmering in anticipation, she trailed butterfly kisses across the muscles of his abdomen then, lifting his penis to her mouth, she sucked him playfully until he was hard. When she was satisfied, she cocked a leg across and setting the angle with her hands, she positioned the head between the lips of her vagina and rolled her hips onto him. She opened and there was the delirious descent. He fit like a caress.
“My turn,” he announced after she had brought him to the threshold twice before letting him recover. And each time, the orgasms had rolled up in her loins, leaving her gasping for more.
He lifted her from his penis as if she weighed nothing more than a feather and placing her where he needed, with her legs draped over the edge of the mattress, he got to the floor and put his mouth on her, probing with his tongue.
Jack was a slow and meticulous lover. A man of experience, whether she liked it or not, who brought her along unerringly until she was throbbing on the threshold, then toppled her over, scooping up her clitoris and working the nub between his lips. Irene gasped and bucked shamelessly, rotating her crotch into his face, until finally, when he could no longer stand the insistence of his scrotum, he rolled her over, grabbed her by the hips and took her from behind.
“I thought you wanted to go to dinner?”
“I can’t go to dinner wearing a tennis outfit,” Irene reasoned with him. “So unless you got a woman’s size six in your closet, I need to go back to the cabana. I could stand a shower and a chance to do my hair. Besides, it’s early yet.”
After the sex, and the appropriate recovery, they had pulled themselves from between the sweaty bed-sheets. Jack had raided the bar fridge once again, poured drinks and still naked, they had retreated to privacy of the balcony where they lounged in the sun. Now Jack, as common to his gender, wanted to woof down red meat.
“Surely you can hold off for a couple of hours,” Irene argued. “Have something to tie you over and I’ll meet you in the dining room at seven.”
Jack shrugged his shoulders but got her point. He reluctantly agreed and watched her get dressed. She had a pretty nice body, he concluded, smugly, and he had gotten her into bed. The lady pilot. Hell! Every guy on the plane wanted to fuck her. But he had done it. Screwed her from behind. Maybe after dinner she would be up for it, again.
Irene kissed him, patted him on the cheek and let herself out of his room. She was still feeling a little spacey. It had been awhile, she realized. And it was good to be with a man again. He had been a bit stodgy to start with, she thought, but he had made up for it in the end when he rolled her over onto her tummy and took her doggy-style with bold thrusts. The guy’s got potential, she laughed to herself.
She was rounding the curve in the path when she saw her savior from the day before, wearing a black tee-shirt with Security in yellow and lots of muscle. “Tommy,” she remembered from the card he had given her.
“Hey Miss Ross. Was looking for you.”
“Is something wrong, Tommy? Trouble?”
“Naw. Nothin’ like that. I just thought you’d like to know that Mosca flew out this afternoon. He and his wife took a private plane back to Philadelphia. He’s gone. No more trouble for you. And I wanted to say goodbye, I guess.”
Irene exhaled. “That’s good news, about Mosca, but what do you mean goodbye? And how did you know where to find me?”
“You weren’t listed as a guest. I didn’t realize you worked for the Casino, at first. But the lady in personnel helped; told me you were living on the beach. I hope you don’t mind. I wasn’t trying to be nosey or anything.”
“Of course not.” Irene reached and lay a hand on his forearm. “Thanks for looking, actually, and letting me know about Mosca. I’ll sleep better tonight. Now what’s this stuff about saying goodbye. You’re leaving?”
“Yeah, I fly out day after tomorrow. Back home for now, Akron.”
“Akron? Christ Tommy, the winter will kill you.”
Tommy looked wistfully at the palms. “My dad’s got a carpet cleaning business up there and he’s getting on some; could use a hand with the grunt work. And I might have a job lined up: Head of campus security for a small university. We’ll see.”
“Well heck. You better let me buy you a drink. The cabana is close and there’s beer in the fridge.”
“Sure,” his face lit up. “If it’s not any trouble.”
Irene steered him back along the path. “Offering a drink is the least I can do.”
Irene, clinging to his bicep, was haunted by the dream in which he had forced her open– taken her. It gave her a hollow feeling low down. Irene imagined she could still feel the size of him, moving inside. And now, a self-fulfilling prophesy? Did she have a choice in this? Was she predestined to live out the dream? He seemed like a sweet boy but was something else smoldering? A quiver ran down her spine.
She got him settled on one of the love seats. “Beer or something stronger?” she asked.
“Beer’s fine. I like your place. They got me in the Barracks.”
Irene poured Rolling Rock and set it down in front of him. “Yeah, I lucked out with the accommodations. You got a girlfriend waiting back home?” He was a good looking kid and Irene couldn’t help feel some young thing had dibs on him.
“No one special,” he sipped at his beer. “Was seeing someone, but she took up with a friend of mine. But it’s okay.”
Irene suddenly needed to sit down. She set her rum on the coffee table and dropped to the cushions, her fingers curled in the hem of her little white dress. He was cute, unattached, and leaving the day after tomorrow. It was a recipe for a quick fuck and the thought left Irene struggling with her feelings. She had just left Jack’s bed. Wasn’t that enough? Wasn’t she satiated with Jack’s lovemaking?
“You took the trouble to find me,” she heard herself say. “Do you like me, Tommy? I mean, I’m older.”
Tommy stared into his beer, his jaw taunt. He said nothing but wore his answer on his face.
Irene struggled with a primitive fixation: Two men, sharing her body, all in the same afternoon. This is insane, she thought, still battling her feelings for Jack. She had a vision of his sperm, inside her, mingling with Tommy’s. It would be a vulgar, dirty, contemptuous betrayal. Slimy. And Irene placed a hand on the coffee table for support. “Look Tommy, I’m meeting someone later. I need to grab a quick shower,” and she pushed to her feet, “I’ll only be a moment.”
Tommy smirked. “That guy I saw you with?”