Bohemian Dreaming & Strictly Off The Record

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

We hadn’t covered any alternate plans in case some emergency kept us from our date.

I checked into the Lovejoy Terrace, into the same third floor room we had the week before. I thought I was looking especially sexy, preparing for the rendezvous this time. The silk sheath I wore fit like a slip, descended to my calves, and was perfectly glamorous, like a trampy 40’s movie star. It was also ridiculous for twelve-thirty on Tuesday afternoon.

I peeked outside the window looking for Bryan. Three floors up, I couldn’t see him on the street even if he was there. Lying down on the pink chenille bedspread, I posed a half dozen ways, wondering what I’d look like from the other side of the room, from the door where Bryan would catch his first glimpse of me. I lay there feeling the heat on my skin, but I didn’t want to pull the shade down to shadow the room, preferring the bright sun all around. I almost fled the city this summer, thinking I couldn’t stand the foggy days; they were so depressing, particularly when I didn’t want to be depressed. But so far, the weather had been kind to my ailing disposition.

I should have been imagining Bryan, but my ex’s face appeared to me instead. Good lord! He’d have a fit seeing me here like this. He hated tawdry things, but he liked tawdry s*x. I wonder if he’d screw me first before he laid on the judgment? That was pretty normal for him. He did make love like a maniac, especially when he had a little booze in him. Not too much; then, he just got angry. But when he was pleasantly happy after a stiff Scotch, his c**k got hard, and sometimes in a lewd display he’d press himself against me in a silent screw. His desire was easily communicated.

I remember once when we were in his father’s big house during some insufferable dinner party that the grand matriarch demanded we attend, he led me away the first chance he got. To the upstairs hallway, the third floor hallway, I think it was. And right there, without hiding any more than that, he pushed me to the wall, pulled out his c**k and raised my skirt. I was immediately impaled, giggling, while he had his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. He could have moved us into any of a half dozen rooms on that floor, but he didn’t want it that simple.

He was pretty raw, cumming in my puss in about sixty seconds. It might have been longer, but I wasn’t really watching the clock. He wanted to dash off after he was done, especially when a maid landed at the top of the stairs and gazed at us trying to figure out what we were doing there. We could have asked her the same thing. He told me once that he’d caught the sexy maid in one of the deserted rooms, m**********g. I asked him if he screwed her on the spot. He said he did, and she didn’t mind. But that was before we were married, before we even knew each other, he was quick to tell me. He had the feeling that servants, especially cute young ones, were for just about anything their employers wanted, including s*x. That evening, he was about to leave me in the upstairs hallway before I had a chance to climax, but then he decided to bring me with him.

“You can wait, darling,” he told me. “Mom and Dad will scream if we’re gone a moment longer.”

“You ass!” I was seething under my breath, so the curious maid wouldn’t hear. I should have shouted.

He always had a way taking away the most riotous fun.

“Be careful love; we do have an image to uphold.”

It was all image with him, and it never mattered what was behind it as long as the image of perfection was indelibly fixed in everyone’s mind.

But Bryan . . .

Funny, the minute a picture of him went through my brain again, there he was knocking on the door.

“Bryan,” I called to him in my sexiest voice.

The door opened. I don’t know what pose I was in when he saw my reclining body, but it pleased him. This wide smile appeared, and a lock of hair had fallen in his eyes, and he had this kind of goofy expression on his face. But it was sexy. I watched his mischievous eyes gleam with the surprise at my overt come on. We were two kids right then doing something horribly naughty.

“Trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear?” he said. It was a plausible comment, my silk gown draped across the threadbare chenille.

“This place makes me think I walk the streets for living and you’re my ‘john’,” I said.

“You want me to pay you?” Bryan asked, looking as if he would.

“Maybe a piece of pie ala mode.”

“You won’t keep that figure eating pie ala mode,” he said staring right at my tummy; the little pouch there is supposed to be seductive. However, I don’t think I had any trouble seducing him, because his p***s was hard as a rock when he finally stepped from his pants and pulled it from his jockeys.

“You must like what I’m wearing,” I commented. Sometimes it’s hard for me to stare at a man’s erection; makes me tremble with a chill sweeping through my body. I suppose that’s because I know what it can do for me. Staring at Bryan’s was a treat, but it made me tremble too.

“Oh, I do like that dress,” he said. “I also like thinking about you. When I went to sleep last night, while I was in conferences at work, and all the way over here . . .”

“I’m on your mind that much?” I was in awe.

He was naked quickly. I admired the tan, the muscles and his great ass one more time. Such squeezable rear cheeks. When he walked to the bed and bent down to kiss me, I grabbed for his c**k. He was moaning right away as I stroked it. When he dropped to the bed, the only thing between us was the silk, one sensuous layer making us slippery while our arms draped about each other. The first feeling was comfort, cocooned in his gentle arms. He held me and kissed my face. I ran my tongue around his mouth in reply, and our lips were pressed tightly to each other a dozen times.

Inching the gown up, my skin was crawling from the sensation. His palm on my bottom squeezed the fleshy cheek, and a jet engine’s worth of energy jolted through me. I captured his erection between my thighs and pressed it as tightly as I could. The gown inched higher, past my thighs, over my hips and past my waist to my chest, where it was all bunched and in my way. Bryan pulled until it was over my head so I could match his nakedness with mine. So much for a slow seduction; we were going as rapidly as we had that first time.

Bryan slipped into my cunt and began moving. Swallowed up in his arms, all that freedom in a tiny space, it was happening for the third time without a wrinkle of despair or any hint of regret. I could have climbed inside him and resided there all night long and not have missed myself. It would have been a worthy rest. If it were possible to be wholly one with someone, in tiny glimpses, it was happening for me here.

Rolling me over on my back, Bryan raised up over me, c**k inside; and the hammering began, though it didn’t end there. His eyes were on mine, as though he were drawing me to him, making me rise out of my body and join him.

Another moment, and we rolled over again, exchanging places, exchanging dominance. On top of him in my eminent domain, I could control his prick with a dancing tango on the head. But, when he’d had enough of my teasing, we were side by side to the end, as he thrust that last time, and as I moved quietly on him, my climax in sight. Bryan looked at me in wonder, seeing the gyrations on my face as I clenched with the sweeping wave of matchless sensation that tripped through all the corners of my prickly hot form.

We didn’t move for a long time.

“Is once enough?” he asked me. My sleepy eyes fluttered open.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because it’s not enough for me.”

“You’d better be careful. We keep going, you could be making quite a commitment, I’m not sure even two would be enough for me,” I joked. “That would mess things up now, wouldn’t it? You’d never be able to leave.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said.

Our arms drifted away from each other, and we rolled over on our backs gazing at the ancient light fixture, and the cracked ceiling, and the peeling paint.

I was feeling empty, not in a bad way empty, but empty of everything but what was in the room: Bryan, me and the shabby surroundings, and the peace. I wasn’t really thinking, but I was wishing that I could walk out to the street in an hour or so, or whenever we were finished with each other, and find something there but my life staring me in the face.

“Do you ever wonder what you’d do, if you could redesign your life?” I asked him. “I mean throw away everything and start over from this minute? Suppose you could walk out of here to a different life, what would it be?”

“You’re asking a man filled with obligations to answer that question?” Bryan chuckled.

“Aren’t we all filled with obligations? But how important are they really? Don’t they suddenly quit mattering when something major changes to alter them?”

A thoughtful silence followed. I could tell the wheels in his brain were working hard finding an answer to my question.

“I’d probably find some deserted place, somewhere in some wilderness and carve.”

“Carve?” I asked.

“Woodcarving. I started when I was a kid, but, you know… time runs out.”

“But if you loved it, why did you stop?”

“Hell, it’s not something you make money doing. But it feels right.”

“I never imagined you an artist,” I said.

“Uptight business man, I suppose?”

“No. Lawyer,” I replied.

“God, why?”

“Not a sleazy lawyer, but one with principles. I prefer the men I f**k to have principles.”

“To make up for these unprincipled things we’re doing here?” he was starting to laugh.

“You think this is unprincipled?”

“Some people would think so.”

“And you?” I asked.

“I’m in love with being here, with being with you,” he said. “No, it’s not unprincipled. It’s the most pure thing I’ve ever done in a cheap motel.”

I laughed this time.

“So where’s this deserted place you want to escape to?” I asked.

“Hell, it could be anywhere. I’m partial to painted deserts, wide open vistas, and clouds on stormy days that sweep around the whole sky.”

“Ooo, my, you’re a poet too,” I said. “But wouldn’t that be lonely, way out in the middle of nowhere?”

“It would be better if there was someone there with me,” he admitted. I heard the sadness, though he ignored it. “And what’s your perfect ‘other life’, Paige Knox?”

I thought for a few minutes, “I don’t think I have one,” I said, not trying to sound grim.

“That’s not fair; you asked the question.”

“I can’t think that far. I can’t imagine myself in any other life. I’d like to, but I never have time to think.”

“You do right now,” he said.

I looked over at him and grinned. I wanted him to pursue this with me. I wanted him to care enough to ask and keep asking, even when I didn’t have answers for him.

“So, you don’t get out of here without one good dream,” he said.

I smirked, thinking of the first thing that came to mind. “When I was a kid, I thought heaven would be playing a grand piano in a meadow. I thought those sounds belonged in the wild air, not some stuffy concert hall.”

“You play the piano?” he said, interested.

“I used to, until I broke my wrist.”

“Wrists heal,” he said.

“Mine did. But it was a bad time. Now, I’d just like to play without having to worry about being perfect. And yes, playing in a field of wildflowers would be heaven.”

“That’s a pretty good dream, but it’s not redoing your life,” Bryan observed.

“I don’t know how I’d redo my life. What I’d really like is to live in this city without being caught up in the frenzy. I’d like to walk these streets the way I used to, and not see memories I don’t like around every corner.”

“You’re sounding melancholy.”

“Not really,” I replied. “Realistic, I think.”

“Well, it’s a decent start, Paige Knox. But you’ll have to think of other things for next time we meet, because I’ll ask.”

“Next time?”

“You want a next time?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t mind a thousand afternoons like this one,” I said.

“Then how about next week?”

“But, I thought we weren’t finished with today,” I protested.

“We’re not,” he said. I just didn’t want to get too swept away and forget to make the date.”

“Same time, same place is okay with me,” I asked.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

He rolled over on top of me, and I spread my legs. I could feel the throbbing already starting, when just the moment before, as I looked at his p***s, it was still happily limp. My natural response was to encourage him on, bucking my hips into his. It massaged my clit. One glorious spark of heat was bounding though me on the way to more happy pleasure. His mouth came to my lips, my breasts fused with his chest, and as time ticked by we grappled over every inch of the double bed, atop the pink chenille. Even after we’d both climaxed a second time, we remained twisted arms and legs, and held on silently, after a while not knowing the borders of our own bodies.

This time, Bryan slipped out of the room first, leaving me with a whimsical smile that I’d remember all day long.

He had the door open and was about to walk out, after our goodbye, but he turned back. “You’re okay here?” he asked.

“I’m perfectly wonderful. I might just spend the night here.”

“That’s not a wise idea,” he said. “Staying here won’t change your life. You have to walk out the door to do that.”

He smirked as I shooed him on his way, not knowing how to respond to his gesture of concern.

I left the hotel remembering my question to Bryan, the one he’d answered so decently, and the one I totally muffed. My imagination must be slipping. I used to daydream all night long; if not about reality, I could lose myself in castles and faraway places, exotic beaches and the ruins of ancient cities. I could breathe life into fantasy, especially when I played Bach on the piano and my mind floated away, and it was as if I were at a harpsichord in 16th century Germany, or was sitting side by side with Chopin in the finest 19th century houses of Europe. And other times, when I was in a languid stupor, I could turn my senses on an inward path feeling the heat of the Mediterranean sun on my naked body, and hearing the sound of the ocean waves on a beach in Mexico.

These are more arid days now. Romance died months ago. Dreaming ended with the sting of my former husband’s accusation against me. He laid me away with an attack while I was sunning by the swimming pool. I was in shock when I heard his sharp tongued, “lying b***h!”

It was like him not to explain himself; to take an insignificant indiscretion and extrapolate the worst. It drove me mad. I was crazy for days after, never getting a word in edgewise in our stilted conversations. Everything that followed that inglorious day only enhanced the indictment against me, and increased my pain.

For a while, I thought I was in the middle of a Greek tragedy, unknown forces having swooped down on my life and altered the order without my having a clue about what was happening. It was a gloomy prognosis, gloomier by the day, at least until Bryan breathed something new into the vacant hollow place where my heart once lived.

Perhaps Bryan was changing the harsh sentence I was condemned to live? Was it possible I was feeling hope regain a place in me? It was certainly a fact that I was beginning to dream again. That made me giddy.

When I walked out on the street, I was wearing my “afternoon” gown. The silly thing must have made me look like an angel the way it shimmered in the sunshine. I was still naked underneath, feeling the fabric caress me as softly as Bryan’s hands. I was wearing sling back silver pumps and a cape over my bare shoulders, that I let droop off one side like I couldn’t care less about proper form on that lazy afternoon. For every shocked eye that gazed on me, I returned a smile. And with a sassy swish to my ass, I walked down the street away from Lovejoy Terrace to find my car.