Ms. G

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I just loved this weather. I stood on my hotel room balcony and just watched as heat waves dance between the speeding cars. California had proved to be well worth it. The sun had seemed to remain idle in the sky since I’d arrived 3 days ago and I couldn’t help but let my caramel-complexioned skin melt under its gaze.

Although this trip was originally planned to only visit my mother, I’d tried my hardest to transform it into my mini-vacation; calling off of work for this long had proven to be a difficult task. My boss, whom I believe is the spawn of true evil, did everything in her power to prevent me from leaving that too brightly lit office in Garden District, New Orleans.

I’d said to her, “In 2 months my ma will be moving very far away, I cannot have her gone without seeing her again.”

I watched her wince at my slow and whimsical drawl, but she only stared.

“I will be gone for 5 days…I have already simplified both your schedule and books for my replacement. I have my flight booked Dr. Swanson.” I pursed my small but plump, and currently scarlet-red painted, lips together and jutted my chin out.

Dr. Elizabeth R. Swanson, a Manhattan-raised, no nonsense private cardiologist, reclaimed her seat behind the semi-circular mahogany desk. The desk was fabulous, but utterly ridiculous; it took up almost a 3rd of the office room space. She had insisted on it.

She looked over her schedule book that I’d placed in front of her computer. “Well you better be back here no later than agreed, and I expect your replacement to be fully briefed,” she said while staring at herself in the oval mirrors hanging on the wall behind me. Her hair, a pale blond with plenty grays, is pinned back in an elegant bun. She has on an eggplant colored silk blouse and simple, however, obviously expensive black slacks and flat patent leather shoes.

She knew I was the best assistant she’d ever hired, and wouldn’t dare jeopardize her thriving practice; we both knew it. I smiled with one corner of my mouth, turned on my 4 inch heels, and switched out of the office.

That month I spent every weekend in the shopping district, stocking up on bathing suits and summer dresses. The only items I could afford to stop buying are shoes, since I could have bought a new car with the money I’ve spent on them.

“Mm cher it was worth it,” I said to myself as I tossed my head of unruly, jet black hair back. I tip toed back into my hotel room, past the pretty little thing still sleeping in my bed. In front of the bathroom mirror, I undressed and took a quick analysis of my body.

I had never been considered a thin girl; with hips 44 inches around and toned, thick thighs, I was far from it. My breasts sit small and pretty, my nipples a pale peach color, and incredibly tiny are surrounded by quarter-sized puffy areolas. I turned and looked at the long scratches on my back left by the Venice Beach sweetie I’d picked up last night. I’ve forgotten her name. My waist fell in greatly, and was constantly tickled by the thick ropes of hair that tumbled from my scalp.

After stepping into the shower, I heard my cellphone ring. I knew it was my mother calling to inquire about our plans today. I hoped that whatsherface would be gone when I got out. She’d been fun, and her pussy was certainly delicious, but that was all.

While toweling off my hair, I heard the door slam shut. She’d left, and I was free to call my mother; my flight leaving early the next morning had me stressed to spend all the time that I could with her and still enjoy my last night in sunny California.

Two hours later I was ready; my eyes, large, chocolate-brown, and almond shaped, were dressed in tasteful black lining; my lips painted a soft pink; and my hair straightened, and pulled up in a tight ponytail. I had on my favorite little black dress and new pair of Jimmy Choo shoes I’d gotten yesterday on Melrose. I was taking no prisoners.

I had plans with my mother to meet for dinner and drinks at some bar in Hollywood. Stepping out of my cab, I was immediately thrust into the waves of freaks that seemed to be their own superstars, and couldn’t help but revel in the body heat. The drones of people moved like schools of fish, a mixture of conversations and faces swimming around me. I quickly checked my phone to confirm the name of the bar, spotted it about a block down, and maneuvered my way through the crowds. My apartment in uptown, just around the corner from Bourbon St. had made me a professional at making my way through madness.

My mother was standing at the entrance to the bar, smiling and waving. She looked nice, clad in her dark blue jeans and flirty, white shirt. She’d been dealing with chronic illnesses for the past few years, and she was making her big comeback; had even cut all her pretty hair off to symbolize a new beginning.

“GeGe, I can’t believe you still have that dress! Let’s hurry before we can’t get a seat,” she beamed at me. We hugged poker oyna quickly and moved inside. We found seats at the bar. She ordered herself and apple martini, I got a cranberry juice…I wanted to stay sober, at least for a little while.

The music in the place was great, the dj alternated smoothly between current chart toppers and old, sultry delights that could conjure up the finest memories in anyone. I swayed with the music in my seat and watched ma make eyes at men half her age. They loved it.

After a few moments, she finally turned her attention to me, “So how’s work going for you, baby? Swanson still on the verge of falling into herself?”

“She’s been off her rocker since before she entered them swamps Ma. I’m not worried about her.”

“And how’s Kayla? I haven’t seen her since your graduation.”

“She’s great, on some trendy diet and thinks I’m a bad influence,” I laughed. “She and Jonah are buying a house too,” I said with less enthusiasm. Jonah was a jerk and complete waste of time, in my opinion. Kayla had been my best friend since we were just bad little girls running wild in the backwoods.

We chatted for while longer; trying our hardest to fit in our most current events, ordering appetizers and more drinks. Ma was buzzing from her third martini and entered a conversation with 2 men that looked to be barely older than I was. I’d decided to take a couple shots of vodka and join the party happening on the dance floor. The alcohol in my system made my movements slow and deliberate. After the second song started to play, I felt eyes on me.

She was sitting at a high table with a man and a woman. I couldn’t tell her ethnicity, but her eyes seemed to be glued to my ass as if she’d never seen one. They were a startling baby-blue color. I could tell that she was older than I was, maybe early or mid thirties. When she noticed me watching back, she blushed and quickly looked away, obliviously making the place between my thighs moisten. I giggled and swayed seductively to the slow, but quickly building beat. I was only playing with her, testing her shyness. She was probably just curious. When I looked at her again, I stuck out the tip of my pink tongue and licked my top lip. The look in those beautiful blue eyes was hunger. I smiled and mouthed, “Hi.” She turned her head, eyes, and then attention back to her table. It seemed as if she were daring herself to leave me alone.

I continued to dance, being sure to enjoy my last night here. I returned to the bar to make sure Ma hadn’t left with those men. She was still sitting up, martini in hand, in deep conversation with a different and even younger man now. It was getting late, and the club was packed. I was scanning the faces when I noticed those baby-blues across the bar.

I could see her better now. Her hair was cut sharp just below her shoulders, and the color of rust, her nose small and straight, and her mouth wide, with full lips painted the color of peaches; they looked delicious. Her blouse was cut low, and clung to her plump, round breast. She looked to be uncomfortable in it. I accredited that to her shyness. I got the vibe that she was probably not a lesbian, just bored. But just then she looked up and directly at me, this time staring deeply into my own eyes. Her stare took me aback; it was clearly focused, with a look if pure need in them. Then the color rose from her breasts and covered her face. She was embarrassed, and I was terribly aroused.

I took a quick trip to the restroom, made sure my hair was neat and makeup clean. I walked around the bar, eyeing her all way. Sliding into the space beside her, I quickly ordered two shots of tequila with lime and salt. I lazily circled my fingers on the bar counter and waited. I figured it would take some time before she gathered enough courage to look again with me being so close. I could smell her perfume; I could see the light freckles on her hands and neck. Her head was down and slanted away from me. She almost looked like she was asleep; somehow peaceful in all the frenzy of the club.

I trailed a finger down her hand resting on the bar. The touch was lighter than air, but shocked my system like a 1000volts. It must have had the same effect on her, because she raised her head and faced me.

“Hello,” she said quietly.

“Hi cher, how’re you feeling?” I whispered to her.

Her eyelids fluttered back down, “I’m feeling good, what’s your name?”

“Genevieve. You can call me GeGe.”

She only nodded and kept her eyes on the counter.

Finally I said, “I want to know your name.”

She was terribly nervous. Her large, soft breasts were almost heaving; I could see her nipples through the stretchy fabric of her shirt. They were thick and hard. My mouth watered.

“You can’t…Yet,” she said.

I watched her for a moment, unsure whether she was worth this game. She pushed those baby-blues back up and peered deep into my own eyes. She almost looked apologetic.

“How canlı poker oyna about a body shot then cher?” I said. Truthfully, I wanted to taste her. But I couldn’t without making her more comfortable. I smiled a little and pushed one of the shots toward her.

Her slender fingers gripped the small glass, “I don’t know how to do one of those.”

“Mm let me show you. Here, may I?” I asked as I pushed the top of her shirt to the side, revealing an orange-freckled shoulder. My breath caught in my throat. She blushed again and looked so beautiful.

Never taking my eyes of off hers, I smiled a bit, and licked the rim of the shot glass, making sure she could see the silver barbell that pierced my tongue. I slowly licked her, from her shoulder to the crook of her neck; my eyes nearly rolling back in pleasure as she shuddered. I trailed my manicured nail across her bottom lip, prompting her to take the lime I was offering. I sprinkled salt where I’d licked. I swirled my tongue over her shoulder, neck, and up to gently touch the very bottom of her ear. Her taste was intoxicating. I quickly took the tequila shot, licked my lips, and planted them on hers. I sucked the lime into my mouth and stuck the tip of my tongue into hers, but only for a second. I knew she was terribly nervous and on the verge of jetting out of this club and far away from me. But I was greedy for her. Her taste was on my tongue, in my system, and driving me wild.

Her eyes were closed when I pulled back. Her hands pressed flat to the thighs of her too-tight jeans and her breathing was heavy. She looked like a babydoll, divine and precious. I curled a strand of that rusty hair around my finger and tucked it behind her ear. She only bit her lip, eyes remaining closed.

“It’s your turn cher, I’m ready,” I said; my voice low and sultry, arousal making my accent thick.

Her eyes fluttered open, “Alright.” She seemed to be looking for somewhere she was brave enough to stick her delicate tongue. I watched her eyes move over the scooped neckline of my dress, down the lace covered midriff and expanse of my hips. Her eyes wandered over my thighs, down to my pretty little feet. She settled them back on my exposed cleavage.

Before I could think of a smart remark, she whispered, “Here,” and tentatively began to drag her tongue over the crest of the left breast. I only watched the top of her head and gave a small moan. She leaned back, fumbled with the salt before sprinkling a bit where she had licked, and set it back down. Before coming back to taste the salt and my skin again, she set her beautiful baby-blues eyes on mine. I could tell that she was building up her courage. It was getting louder and the club’s occupancy had doubled. For a moment I wondered where her associates from earlier had gone. I wondered about her relationship to them. I glanced over the bar and spotted my mother, sitting and smiling happily. She was chatting it up with what I recognized as one of her sorority sisters; she could always find someone she knew.

I nodded at the lime slice lying on the napkin and parted my lips. She pinched the wedge and held up to me. I got the feeling she was too timid to touch my mouth yet, so I smiled wide and ran my tongue over my top row of teeth. Without much warning clamped down on the lime making sure to let my lips linger on her delicate fingers. She blushed so deeply I would have bet that it came from her toes. It was becoming my aphrodisiac.

Before I could let my eyes wander down her body, her head was thrust into my chest, her tongue swirling so sweetly over the swell of my cleavage. After a moment, she pulled back and downed her shot, tossing her head back with a flick. Her beautiful autumn hair fell backwards, and her eyes closed, and those wide thick lips turned up. She kept that smile when her head came back forward and her eyes opened again; the look in them so strong, but still innocent, still naive. My own breathing became labored. I’d always been attracted to older women…But she was amazing.

I pursed my little lips upwards, offering her the fruit. She parted her lips and inched slowly toward me until she was close enough to bite down. I squeezed my thighs together when our lips touched; she was so delicious, so precious I thought I would cum just then. She let her mouth hover over mine. She was taller than me, 5’9″ to my 5’5″ in heels that I could seldom be found out of. Her body seemed bowed, light, and willowy as if she could blow away. It contrasted her round dollbaby face. I found the length of her neck enchanting. It was long, slender, and milky white; somehow absent of those delicious orange freckles.

When she leaned backwards, she looked satisfied to have gone through with it. She took the peel from her mouth and placed it daintily on the bar counter. Every move she made seemed to be draped in silk, languid and completely thought out. She moved as if she were at a tea party instead of this dark club in the depths internet casino of tinsel town.

“I’d like to get to know you better; this is my last night in California though.”

“But where do you live?” She sounded flustered.

“New Orleans, I’m only here to visit,” I eyed that swan-like neck, “but I doubt that I want to go home,” then those bright blue pools for eyes, “without more of you.”

“I’m not like this, I don’t usually kiss women…I mean, I never have. I just don’t do this, with anyone.”

“I can tell that you’re a little inexperienced, it’s no issue at all. I like it. Your innocence seems to be casting a spell over me anyway.”

I couldn’t gage her reaction. She’d slanted her head away again and seemed to be in great thought. Without much warning she abruptly turned to me, “I’m married.” She’d said the words in such a low tone, it took a while for me realize that she’d actually said it. I must have stared for too long, my facial expression too serious, because she looked incredibly ashamed. The older woman grabbed her clutch, turned quickly, and disappeared into the crowd behind us.

“Dammit!” I spat out. I wasn’t the type to chase a girl, but up until now I hadn’t been tempted to do so. Against all alarms going off in my head I departed from the bar. The groups of clubbers were moving with such intensity; it felt like I was swimming, lost in these waves and searching for a scared little fish. I turned to the right and saw that head of rusty hair. She was sitting at the high table again. The man from earlier was seated there but the woman was missing. I stood for a moment in all the chaos and watched. If there was any sign of intimacy between the two, I would leave. She only sat there, one hand cupped under her rounded chin. Her eyes looked heavy lidded now, droopy with embarrassment. The man was talking a mile a minute; dressed in a loud silver shirt, and multiple earrings, I began to think that he was not the husband she spoke of.

Before I could think it through, I’d made up my mind and switched as slowly as I could to her table. Sliding up behind her, I whispered into her ear, “Cher, I can still taste you. Why would you tease and leave me?”

She shuddered at the word ‘taste’, and twisted her neck towards me, “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to talk to you so badly. I’m not even bisexual…Well maybe bi-curious now. I meant to tell you that I was married, but I didn’t know it would be like this. I’m not even really married, I’m separated…Getting a divorce.” She hadn’t looked at me. I almost wanted to beg her to just look at me.

“That’s good then.” I began trailing a finger up and down her arm. “How about I give you my number, and if you want to see me a little later on, you can make the choice?”

She nodded emphatically, and took a pen from her clutch. Before taking the pen, I enclosed my hand over hers; I was determined to get as much contact with her as I could. I scribbled my number on a nearby napkin and wrote a ‘G’ above it. “My flight leaves at 8am, I’ll be seeing you,” I said after twirling a strand of her hair and tucking it behind her ear. The color in her cheeks rose and she pulled those wide lips up in a sweet smile that made my heart skip a beat.

Reclaiming my space next to my mother proved to be a difficult task. Eventually we decided to grab a booth and order some meals. We talked about everything we could think of, laughed, joked, and stuffed our faces. At about midnight we left the club and hailed separate cabs. In the taxi, I played with my hair and dreamed of the woman with no name. I was shocked at my behavior. I never considered myself a ‘player’, but I was not one for feelings; I found that they only complicated things. Sex was easy to both come by and understand, but feelings are an entirely different ball game. However, I couldn’t help but feel for her. She was terribly shy and it made the need rise in me. I palmed my thighs anxiously in my seat; I planned on masturbating furiously when I reached my hotel room.

In my hotel room, I stumbled around peeling articles of clothing off as I went. I pulled down the hair tie letting my hair fall. I just wanted a hot shower. The water was scorching when I stepped in. I’d washed my hair once and body a few times before hearing my cellphone ring. “Ah fuck,” I sputtered, jumping out of the tub. I busted my elbow on the doorjamb in my hurry, snatched the phone, and pressed the answer key.

“Hi,” I sang into the phone, finally able to breathe.

“Hello,” came a small voice over the line.

“Mmm is that you cher?” I knew it was her. I had checked the number; it was no one that I had saved.

“Yes it’s me. Can I, can I come over please?” Her voice was bolder now, husky even.

“Of course you can. I’m at the Magic Castle, room 523. I told you that I would be seeing you.”

She gave a little giggle, “I’ll bring some red wine, see you in a bit.” And she hung up. I put two glasses in the mini-fridge and hopped in the shower, just to warm back up. I toweled off, decided to keep my hair wet and curly; dabbed a little Chanel here and there and lay naked on the bed, my nudity only teasing my arousal.

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