Messalina: Devourer of Men (8 page)

“I’ll spread your legs wide, and once again, drink my fill of you.” His words burn against my earlobe and the side of my neck as his hand presses between my thighs. I allow my legs to part slightly before trapping his hand there. He smiles while his forefinger presses into me.

            “You want it, don’t you, sugar? But first, my tongue has to slip inside.” His finger presses harder. “Deep inside to get you ready for me.”

            “Jared
—
”

            “Hush, darlin,’ let me finish.” He smiles. “I’ll wrap your juicy thighs around my waist and then, Eva,” he adds, using his free hand to make me look at him. “I’m gonna ride you hard and put you away wet.”

            That does it. My legs clamp together tighter as a short cry escapes my lips. He chuckles and holds me close.

            “Excuse me?” the cheery-but-husky voice of the flight attendant comes out of nowhere. I freeze with my back to her and hide my face in the curve of Jared’s neck, too embarrassed to move.

            “Can I offer you a drink, sir? Madam?”

            I suppress a giggle at her choice of words. When Jared answers, the resonance of his voice vibrates through me, making me even more aroused.

            “I think we have everything we need, thank you.” 

            I hear the flight attendant continue down the aisle. When I get the nerve to look up at him, he’s grinning like a fool and we laugh until he moves in for another kiss. After that, we call a truce for the rest of the flight. I can’t bear to look at him without wanting to tear off his clothes, so I pretend to look out the window in the row across from me. But Jared keeps one hand between my legs, casually claiming his territory while holding my hand in the other. Occasionally he strokes my knuckles or pulls my hand to rest on the peak of his arousal.

“That’s for you, sugar,” he whispers.

            I bite my thumb and whimper. He laughs softly and yet, despite my molten hormones, I’m getting sleepy. Very sleepy.

* * * *

            I don’t remember landing in Dallas, Jared’s renting a car, or riding to the hotel. I must have been sleepwalking. Suffice it to say, the next thing I do remember is waking up on my stomach in a strange bed with sunlight coming through the window.

            It takes me a few moments to get my bearings. When I do, my eyes focus to see a very comfortable looking room with two chairs and an ottoman, a desk and chair, and a tall wardrobe. This is the type of hotel room that company executives with a generous expense account would get. Fully rapt in my senses, I turn over to see crumpled sheets and pillows beside me, but no Jared.

            “What the . . . shit.”

            Well, at least we slept together. I reach between my legs to touch myself, only to discover my garter belt and stockings are still on. This cheers me a little. At least I haven’t wasted my time flying out of state for a fuck I couldn’t feel the next day.

            But where is he? And what am I supposed to do now? Hell! How am I going to get home? This time, listening to my body instead of my head is going to cost me plenty.

But something feels very odd. Every time I move, I hear a crackling sound. I turn to look over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of something white.

            “Why, that little punk.”

            Jared has taped a note to my ass.

I peel the piece of paper from my bottom and realize it’s not a note, it’s another drawing—a quick sketch done in ink of me lying prone and nude from the waist up, exactly how I awoke.

            Good. At least he didn’t capture my face first thing in the morning. He drew my arm dangling off the side of the bed with my hand pointing to the floor where he wrote the message:

           
I’ll be back by six.

            As I reach to place the sketch on the nightstand, I see a pink sticky note with the words
Enjoy yourself
written on it. Beneath is $400 cash.

            “God damn. Who does he think I am? Julia Roberts?”

            The thought has me laughing. I can’t. Can I? It’s a generous offer. And I have nothing to wear. I look around, still trying to get an understanding of my surroundings and see that Jared put my dress on a hanger in the wardrobe.

            I take a shower, using the complimentary toiletries to scrub the remains of my makeup off my face. Fortunately for me, my complexion is clear and makeup is used to enhance and not to disguise. Then I discover I have another problem. If I go to the lobby dressed in my most seductive dress and three-inch come-fuck-me pumps, I’m going to look like the call girl who overstayed her welcome.

I am in a foreign town. Hell, Texas is a foreign country as far as I’m concerned, and my knowledge of “Southern” is slim.

            Fuck it. Needs must. Nobody knows me here. Besides, I wore this dress last night is because it makes me feel confident. Now it’s time to walk the walk.

I go downstairs and approach the front desk with as much poise as possible and discover I’m at the Anatole Hotel. Looking at my watch, it’s 10:30 and people are checking out. On my left is an older couple dressed as if ready to hit the links and on my right is a younger man in Dockers and a polo shirt. I stand a discrete distance away in the center, positioned to go to the next available counterperson. As the men take care of business, the older woman, who must be in her fifties or sixties, makes no secret that my attire is not suited for such an establishment.

Her blue eyes take their time going from the top of my head to the tips of my painted toenails. Her thin lips are pressed into an even thinner grim line. When she finally focuses on my face and gives me a look to say I’m not fit to clean her house, I decide she’s gone too far.

            I clasp my hands behind my back, effectively thrusting my bosom out, and relax my stance, putting my weight on one leg, and return her stare. Then I crane my head to get a glimpse of her husband’s ass, notice his wallet sticking out of his back pocket, and smile. The woman follows my gaze and spins back around, her mouth open as if about to speak. I shift my weight to the other leg and arch my eyebrow, daring her to say one damn thing. She moves closer to her husband.

            The young man on my right finishes his transaction at the desk, picks up his bag, and turns to leave. He sees me and cannot hide his surprise. I think he’s more embarrassed at his reaction than my attire and he blushes.

            “G-good morning,” he stammers. Not a Southern accent, more Midwestern.

            “Good morning.” I smile brightly and step aside to let him pass. He smiles at me, grateful to escape out the door. I approach the counter and a tall, slim man with short, dark hair and a pencil-thin moustache. He gives me a friendly smile.

            “How can I help you, ma’am?”

            Oh, thank god, he’s gay. I want to jump for joy and sing the Hallelujah Chorus. I’m going to have fun with this.

“Hello. I was wondering if you could tell me of a good place to buy some clothes?” I cast a sidelong glance to the woman next to me and then back to the man behind the counter. “I’m afraid I don’t have any with me, you see.”

            The man, whose nametag identifies him as “Sidney,” catches my glance and I detect a sparkle in his eyes. “Well, if it’s shopping you’re interested in, I recommend NorthPark Mall or the Galleria.” He reaches beneath the counter and pulls out a few brochures.

            Despite the normality of his words, Sidney puts enough inflection on them to tell Mrs. Nosey Parker that he and I are on the same page. As I study the brochures, Sidney steps back and puts his finger to his lips in appraisal.

            “From what I can tell, you can definitely wear clothes, so I’m going to suggest you go to the Galleria. It has more selection and it’s a bit younger.” He tosses a look at the old biddy. “If you know what I mean?”

            I did and so did she.

            “James,” the woman snaps at her husband. “Will you just pay the damn bill and let’s go?” She picks up her Coach bag and scuttles out of the lobby, leaving her husband, Sidney, and me looking after her.

            “Shall I call a cab for you, dearie?” Sidney asks.

            “Would you? You’re such a love.”

            He gives me a wink and picks up the phone. I give him a twenty and he is worth every penny.

Getting into the cab, I tell the driver to go to the Galleria Mall in North Dallas. He deposits me in front of the gigantic, glass atrium mall entrance. Inside, over two hundred stores wait for me and my cash allowance from Jared. 

            I create my first ensemble in Macy’s out of a much more conservative combination of short-cut overalls and a T-shirt. I wear these clothes and put my evening dress in the bag. Then I get some canvas shoes, because the ones I have on are meant for perching, not walking. With those tasks complete, I feel more at ease and buy a pair of pants, a summer dress, a pair of espadrilles, and toiletries. I don’t splurge, but I’m satisfied with my purchases.

I take another cab and ride from one end of Dallas to the other. I’ve never been here before and keep my face to the window while the cabby gives a running commentary. He drives me to the Deep Ellum area in downtown Dallas where the “cool cats hang out,” he says.

All I see are a bunch of warehouses and shops that are eclectic in their merchandise, but empty of customers. I say as much.

“Hey, it’s daylight,” the driver says. “You can’t expect action in this heat.”

By now I’m hungry and he suggests I eat at Baker’s Ribs on Commerce Street, which turns out to be another worthwhile suggestion. Satisfied with a full tummy, I have a third cabby cruise around town. At the intersection of Greenville Avenue and Lovers Lane, I see a shop I simply must visit: Condoms To Go.

            “Driver, stop!”

            When I return to the hotel it’s nearly four o’clock. Just enough time to build up my energy in preparation for the evening’s festivities. I take a long, cool bath, washing away the humid Texas heat and scenting myself with honeysuckle and rose.

            I have got to relax. But the thought of having real sex—not just fingers, but cock—after such a long dry spell makes me giddy to the point of being sick. Thinking of Jared’s imminent arrival, I tense. It’s like I’ve waited a lifetime for him and now, the time is near. When I get out of the tub, it’s 5:15. I call room service to order champagne and hors d’oeuvres.

            “And please, if you can have them here before six, I’d be grateful.”

            “Certainly, ma’am. We’ll send that up right away.”

            I smile. They really are friendly in the South. As I’m applying scented body lotion before putting on my garter-and-corset ensemble, a knock on the door stops me.

            “Room service,” a friendly male voice calls.

            I open the door to see a young, dark-haired man who looks at me in a strange way.

            “I, uh, good evening, ma’am.”

            His uncertainty makes me suspicious and then I notice the knot of my robe is loose and reveals practically the entire left side of my body and part of my sex. But instead of acting modest, I smile. This boy’s never going to see me again. I might as well get warmed up and have some fun.

“Marvelous. Come in.” I hold the door only slightly open to make him brush pass me. It’s a cheap thrill, but I’m in a frisky sort of mood.

            “Where would you like it, ma’am?”

My throaty laugh makes him turn. “In the bedroom, of course.”

            Squaring his shoulders as if preparing to meet his fate, the room attendant pushes the trolley into the bedroom.

            “Close to the bed, if you don’t mind.”

            He glances at me over his shoulder and smiles. As he positions the cart, I shake my head. He can’t be been more than twenty years old. As far as I’m concerned, he’s an adult-in-training, but I play La Coquette to the hilt as I sashay past him to get my purse. After getting a decent tip, I reach for his hand and press the folded bill into his surprisingly moist palm.

            “Thank you.” I say and lead him out of the room by the hand. “Be a dear and hang the ‘Do not disturb’ sign on the door on your way out.”

            He swallows hard. “Yes, ma’am. Anything else?”

            I grin at the expectancy in his voice. He’s only a starter, like the tray of hors d’oeuvres he just delivered. Jared is the main course.

            “Yes. You have a good night.”

            His last image of me is my waving to him as my robe slips off my shoulder, exposing even more of my body. My last image of him is his blushing face and his wide eyes as he closes the door. I giggle and can only imagine what the staff will be saying about me, especially after the scene this morning. Moments later, the electronic key unlocks the door.

            Jared has returned.

Chapter Five