Cruising the Strip (7 page)

Vette opened the door to her room and even stood back to let Tendra enter first. She could have backed off. But she didn’t do any of those things.

She went in. It was a hotel room, like any other. Sunlight still streamed in through the open drapes. It wasn’t a dungeon, or a staged set like in a porn movie, just two beds, a dresser, and a tastefully hidden TV. A bottle of Glenfiddich sat on the dresser, still nearly full.

The door snicked closed as Vette said, “Take off your clothes and get on the bed.”

Why did every word Vette say seem to hit her with a physical force? Her skin jumped at the command, but her brain objected. “I’m not into—I mean, this isn’t me. I think you have the wrong idea of what I like.”

Vette looked up from pulling the covers off the bed. “No, I think I have you figured out. You’re not normally submissive. Most of the time you’re in absolute control of everything. Your last relationship, if you can call it that, you were definitely the top in and out of the bedroom, and she left because you didn’t give her any space.”

Tendra wasn’t going to talk about what’s her name. In the tone she reserved for first-year residents, she said, “Stop it. You don’t know anything about me.”

“You’re right.” Vette undid the fly of her slacks and they made a soft, sensual sound sliding to the floor. “Except that right now you need in the worst way not to be in control. You need to let someone else do the planning, the worrying, the protecting. And right now, I really want to be that for someone. We both get what we’re aching to have.”

Tendra tried not to look at the almost sheer panties that were clinging to Vette like a second skin. She closed her eyes and saw the massive amount of blood against the white of the surgical table. The tone of the flat line warning on the heart rate monitor had played in her ears for the last week, though at the moment the pounding of her own heart was almost loud enough to drown it out.

She’d been lucky, lucky beyond belief to have practiced as long as she had without losing a supposedly otherwise healthy patient. Sure, there had been the patients nobody could save, but a teenager with an unsuspected blood clotting disorder—it had all happened so fast. The first was the hardest, everyone said so. Even if she had done everything she should have, everything necessary, it was still hard. His whole life had been ahead of him.

“Come back,” Vette whispered. She was standing in front of Tendra now, magnificently naked. In the teddy she had been sensual and inviting, in street clothes elegant and sexy. Naked, it felt as if some other kind of energy was shimmering around her. Tendra had visions of one hard, erect nipple playing against her clit, and shivered at the thought of those full, soft breasts massaging her ass.

She was breathing hard. She had to close her eyes. She wasn’t sure she licked her lips, but if she did it was because the thought of losing herself in the act of worshipping between Vette’s legs made her thirsty, and a bottle of Scotch was no substitute.

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed,” Vette repeated.

Tendra obeyed. She felt tension fall out of her shoulders during the simple act of unbuttoning her shirt. She opened her eyes to find Vette watching her appreciatively. A few minutes where she didn’t think, didn’t remember…this wasn’t how she would normally achieve a state of
tabula rasa
, but the opportunity was here.

Her jeans slid to the ground. With a tug, they ended up in a heap, along with her shoes and socks. In another half-minute, she had shrugged out of her shirt, unhooked her bra, and stepped out of her panties. All done automatically, as if she were getting ready for bed at home, on her own.

“Very nice,” Vette said. “Now get on the bed.”

She hesitated. “How?”

“Surprise me.”

Something in Vette’s voice told Tendra she wasn’t moving fast enough. She got on the bed, on her hands and knees.

“Spread your knees.” Vette’s hands were already on her body, caressing her back and shoulders, then underneath to play with her nipples. Tweaking, pulling, not cruel, but sharply stimulating. “You’re naked and on my bed, waiting for me to fuck you.”

Tendra said nothing, not sure what she was supposed to do except wait. Vette’s hands were firm and controlling.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.” It was the truth, but it wasn’t all she needed.

“Then get on your back.”

Tendra rolled over and was just settling when Vette moved on top of her. She was pushed down the rest of the way, her legs nudged open, then fingers were inside her. Vette pinned her with the weight of her body and she pushed even deeper.

Vette had been right; if there was bedroom play, Tendra was a top. She’d never yielded to anyone before, not like this. Vette had some of her weight on one elbow, and her forearm was draped lightly over Tendra’s throat. When she swallowed, she could feel that light pressure reminding her she was not in charge. She was on this bed to take what Vette wanted to give, to enjoy it, to please with her own pleasure. To forget her name, to forget…

“No,” Vette said. She looked into Tendra’s eyes, all that sharp, bright intelligence leaving no room in Tendra’s thoughts except for the sensation in her cunt as Vette thrust and rolled, massaged and teased. “Stay open, stay with me.”

Tendra could hardly breathe. Those eyes possessed her; they gave her no place to hide except behind her own closed lids.

Vette put pressure on Tendra’s throat. Tendra immediately opened her eyes. “That’s better,” Vette cooed. “No hiding. You’re getting fucked by a complete stranger who doesn’t even know your name. Let it feel good. Oh, that’s better. You just got so wet.”

Tendra knew sex could fill up empty places inside her. She’d loved, been washed over with tenderness. What Vette was doing to her was the opposite—it drained. The room was going dark, sounds were getting muffled. Even her own heartbeat, throbbing in her ears, was getting faint.

She wanted to beg to come. She wanted to beg for Vette to lick her, to fuck her harder, but she wasn’t in charge. Whatever Vette felt like doing that was what would happen. She hadn’t been told she could beg.

“There, there, right there,” Vette murmured. “Put your hands under your ass.”

It was hard to move with Vette’s weight on her, hard to make her body do anything when Vette’s fingers were touching everything, stroking from nerve to nerve, deep, shallow, twisting, thrusting. She wriggled, trying to obey, aware that Vette wasn’t making it easy. She had to get it right or Vette would stop.

She was about to say that she had done as she’d been told when Vette said, “That’s right, I’m fucking you.”

Her eyes glowed like green fire, burning into Tendra.

“We met ten minutes ago, and now you’re getting fucked. There’s nothing but my hand, my body, and your hungry cunt liking what I’m doing to you. I wanted your body, to own it, to use it. That makes you mine.”

The words were running together. She wasn’t sure what Vette was saying, but she didn’t have to know. She hung suspended from the jewels of Vette’s eyes, the world shrinking inward until those eyes were the only light, and letting Vette’s hand enjoy her depths was the only reason she existed.

Vette shifted her position slightly and the feel of hot, wet pussy on her thigh distracted her from Vette’s eyes. But Vette’s words brought her focus back to the sharp gaze. “I thought you might want to know what you’ll get to lick, if you please me.”

The tension in her shoulders, across her breasts, was unbearable. She felt tethered to Vette’s eyes, swinging with each thrust, afraid she would break free, fall, get lost forever. There was something that wouldn’t let her go, but she needed to escape it, so she pushed up, thrust up to meet Vette, to give herself to those eyes.

Her orgasm shattered her. She was empty, turned inside out.

The past dissolved, everything went away. Only her body remained, a ragged collection of trembling muscle, shaking nerves and so much wet…so wet.

The green eyes softened, filled with matching tears. “It’s okay,” Vette said. “It’ll be okay.”

She curled into the welcoming arms, said thank you for the tissue. She’d never come like that before in her life. She wasn’t sure she wanted to again, but even as the thought formed, her body told her otherwise.

Vette asked softly, “What’s your name?”

She looked at Vette blankly for a long moment.

Vette smiled. “Good.”

“I’ve always wondered what limo drivers did while they were waiting for their clients to finish doing whatever they were doing,” a woman said as she slid up beside me.

I dropped my last quarter into the slot machine and watched two cherries and an orange jiggle into position on the horizontal bar, then turned to the redhead I’d first seen that morning at the airport. The company I worked for had sent a fleet of six limos to pick up arriving members of Escort Services International, and I was driving one of the black stretches assigned to the group for the next five days. I hadn’t been quite as lucky as a couple of my fellow chauffeurs. My client was one of the corporate executives—a friendly enough guy—but I would have much preferred to drive the escorts to the Palace. My current companion had been one of a group of sleek, sophisticated women who deplaned looking as if they’d just stepped out of the pages of
Cosmo
. Even though they were all great looking, she stood out for me. I think it was her obvious confidence and self-assurance. She clearly didn’t think being a high-class call girl was anything to apologize for.

I motioned to the beeper on my belt. “These mean we don’t have to lurk at the curb any longer.”

“What do you do instead?”

“Most of the guys congregate in the lounge and talk about sports or girls,” I replied. I’d shed my black suit jacket and loosened my tie when I’d started feeding the one-armed bandit an hour ago. I saw her give me a slow once over, and I hoped my white shirt wasn’t wrinkled. She looked just as good as she had earlier. Her shoulder length red hair was wavy and thick, and she’d left it loose. She’d changed into a casual pair of black Capris and a sheer pale blue blouse, and the lacy cups of her diminutive bra were visible as they cradled her full breasts. I think I must have stared a little too long because when I glanced up, she gave me a knowing smile. I’m sure she was used to people assessing her body, and I suddenly didn’t want to be relegated to the category of those who mindlessly lusted after her. Even if I did have a flash of mindless lust imagining what it would be like to get my fingers inside those frothy bits of white lace and lift her breasts out into my hands.

“You don’t care for the topics?” she asked.

I struggled to remember what we had been talking about before my brain dropped into my crotch. Oh, right—sports and girls. “I like them both, in the right circumstances. But I prefer action to conversation.”

She signaled to a cashier and bought a paper container filled with 400 quarters and set it on the narrow shelf in front of my slot machine. Without taking her eyes off me, she started dropping coins into the slot. “And what’s your favorite sport?”

“Poker.”

“You live in the right town then.”

“That’s what I thought when I moved out here,” I replied. “I still do.”

“And what about the girls?”

“What about them?”

“If you don’t like to talk about them, what do you like to do with them?”

I caught her wrist as she was about to slide another coin into the machine. Her face registered surprise, then interest as I pulled the coin from between her fingers and dropped it back into her bucket. “It depends on how much time I have.”

“Some things don’t take a lot of time.”

“And some things are better if they do.”

She nodded, as if liking my answer. “Why did you stop me?”

“I was afraid you’d get lucky and we’d be tied up collecting your winnings.”

“You have something else in mind?”

“My client said he wouldn’t need me until after midnight. That’s a little over four hours.”

“That’s a lot of time.”

I picked up the cardboard container and tucked it under my arm. Then I took her hand. “That’s just enough time. Would you care to join me for a drink?”

“I’d love to. I’m Erica, by the way.”

I told her my name and led her away. We’d gotten halfway across the casino floor before she pulled on my hand to slow me down.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“I was just wondering where we’re going, since the lounge is in the other direction.”

“I thought somewhere private would be nicer.” When she didn’t reply, I drew her through the crowds, down a long hallway, and outside to a small private lot where the limos were parked. At eight in the evening, there was enough light for me to see her clearly, and I could tell she was surprised. Her eyes, which were very nearly turquoise, shaded to a darker blue and her lips parted wordlessly when I opened the rear door of the stretch and motioned her inside. I imagined she was used to feigning excitement and pleasure, and I liked the fact that she hadn’t expected this. The tinted windows rendered us invisible.

“What would you like to drink?” I asked, rapidly running through the rear controls to turn on the interior lights and the sound system. The auxiliary systems in the limo ran off a self-contained power unit, so I didn’t need to start the engine. I found some sensual jazz, then opened a small refrigerator built into the rear of the partition dividing the front compartment from the spacious area reserved for clients. Two leather bench seats ran at right angles along the rear and the side opposite the doors. Erica sat in the center of the forward facing seat and crossed her legs.