There’s yet another something else he definitely has to remember. Averting his head from her pink mouth, Brian scans the strip joint again.
He turns back to the bartender. “Are any of these people going to the Buchners’ tonight?”
“Damned if I know. What’s your obsession with the Buchners anyway? You fuckin’ any of them?”
OK. So this isn’t going to work out in public. The stripper nuzzles his ear with her quicksilver tongue – an exquisitely erotic gesture that sends his groin into an extreme heat zone.
He whispers in her ear, “You have a back room?”
“Why, you are a naughty boy. Follow me, sugar.”
The bartender ignores them as she leads him by the hand to a small, dark room behind the bar. There’s no one in there and she immediately pounces on him again. She kisses him with sound and fury and passion and moist interlocking lips and her hands roam here, there, everywhere up and down his body, especially focusing on his crotch.
He responds in kind. He gropes her large breasts and feels for the erotic points of her nipples beneath the pasties. Her body is young and firm and hot beneath his large hands. He dives for her thong. She’s already soaking wet as his fingers wrench the little yellow string away to reveal her pussy lips. He burrows and wriggles into her sweet little hole, which unfortunately isn’t as tight as he wants it to be, and she rips his shirt open and seizes his nipples.
She lowers her mouth to his pointed tips. Her tongue leaves a rotund trail around his areolas. He has always been amused when a woman sucks his nipples.
He’s extremely aroused by the time she slides her wet tongue down his belly – down, down the line of soft downy, barely visible hair that traverses his midline, right down to his pubis. She seizes his belt. A clack of metal against metal, and she has unbuckled it. She unzips his jeans. He doesn’t wear underwear and so his penis springs out from its moorings – a lever released.
“Wow,” she says. “You’re hung.”
“Glad you like it.”
“I more than like it. I – ” The rest of her words are drowned as she takes him in her mouth and sucks.
He leans against the wall and closes his eyes. She has a very clever mouth. Her tongue makes butterfly wing movements over and across his turgid flesh, especially concentrating on the crown and the little slit at the tip of his cock. Her cheek muscles pull at his column. His breathing quickens. He clasps her head.
“Take it slow,” he says.
He wonders how much he has to pay her at the end of this.
Sam’s words echo in his head. No picking anyone up either. This is a small town and word gets around.
How small is this town exactly?
And you promised. It’s part of the deal.
The stripper’s mouth is like an anemone – all moist and intense suction. He finds himself tripping over the edge. Guilt riddles his conscience.
Damn.
He’s not the type of person to renege on promises. Even if he thinks it’s a stupid promise and a stupid bet. Which of course he lost fair and square in trying to do his friend a good deed.
He says, “Um, maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all.”
He gently pushes the stripper’s head away. His cock is still as hard as a wooden block. It glistens with her saliva.
“What’s the matter?” she says, disappointed.
“I made a promise not to fuck anyone this weekend.”
“I can still give you a blow job.”
“No … fucking, sucking … I think they all go together in the same time space continuum. I’ll take a rain check, OK?”
He fishes out his wallet from his jeans pocket and extracts five hundred dollars from it.
“Here, buy yourself something nice to wear.”
The stripper’s eyes bulge at the largesse. “Wow, you’re definitely not from around here.”
He zips up his pants after ascertaining that he can contain his erection. When he walks out of the strip joint, he feels a lot lighter, and he’s not talking about his wallet.
8
When he gets back to their hotel room, Sam is already dressed. Brian flings open the door with such force that it slams against the wall.
“Honey, I’m home,” he calls.
And freezes in his tracks.
Sam stands there, resplendent in a cerulean blue gown with shimmers on its skirt. A pretty lapis lazuli necklace encircles her throat, and she is radiant in her carefully mussed up hair with romantic tendrils floating around her face in wisps. Her blue eyes sparkle, and her eye shadow is dusty silver.
“What do you think?” She beams.
You’re gorgeous, he thinks. He’s used to gorgeous women, having bedded more than several hundred in his lifetime. But Sam is radiance incarnate, like a blushing bride unveiled for the first time. To him, at least.