The Waiting Game (Garvey Fields) (4 page)

“You like Tinashe, Miss Cormount?” I asked politely.

She didn’t say anything, just stared. She had nice eyes and the dim light made them look bigger and softer, but they looked empty and without expression.

“You like Usher,” I added eventually.

“Not to get all weepy over,” she said in a toneless voice.

I rocked back on my heels and looked at her; she turned the volume down on the sound system.

“The bar staff said it was okay to hang here a little, I get lonely in my room, is it okay?” she said or asked or suggested. I wasn’t sure because her voice had suddenly gotten all deep and husky.

“As long as you keep it down a little and are back in your suite by four I’m fine, don’t want the management getting all testy, know what I mean?”

“I don’t mind Usher,” she said. “He makes money, you know the right way and you’ve got to respect it. I just, I just like my music with a story that means something, like Marvin Gaye or Maxwell.”

“Maybe you could like a little Mozart,” I said.

“Whatever, you think I'm too young for that kind of music?”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty nine.”

“Oh,” I said, she looked about twenty one.

“It’s Pilates,” she said answering my unasked question.

“So what, do you work out to?”

“Why do you give a shit, wanna watch me do squats or something?”

“Nah, just interested in how music can act as a conduit to the change in mood which essential means a musician can be an acoustic alchemist.”

“I thought you were security,” she said, arched her back, shook herself out a little and closed her eyes. I glanced down her top again, she had shaken off her bikini top to show me her soft breasts with brown nipples.

“Sing me a song,” she said.

“It’s too late and my singing voice only works after nine and breakfast.”

She let out a loud sigh, “I know what you want, I know you sneak glances at me when you think I'm not looking,” she said.

I hadn’t tried to be subtle about it.

“So why have you been watching me?” she said.

The answer was obvious, but experience had taught me not follow my first thoughts or loins. She could be an exhibitionist type flirt who enjoyed attention from black men. If I tried to jump her bones, cop a feel or anything approaching unwanted physical contact I could get myself in trouble or shot. I decided to play a little, to see how keen she was.

“Nothing Miss Cormount just thought you might need some fresh air. I note that you’ve been here five days, haven’t been outside once and you have a tower room.”

She laughed, opened her eyes, turned and lent against the head the couch, “tell me a story about that room and I’ll show you more than my tits.”

I smiled at her frankness.

“There was a girl in your suite once, stayed in the hotel a week like you. Without leaving the building I mean, she didn’t speak to anyone. And then one day…”

“She jumped,” she said bright eyed.

“She came down to reception and paid the bill first. She asked them to send up the porter in thirty minutes. He was on his way up when she took a swan dive off the balcony; she went past the window as he climbed the staircase.”

She leaned further forward towards me and I swear the swell of her round butt caused her shorts to slide a little - she wasn’t wearing a belt. “What did you say your name was?”

 “Garvey, Fields Garvey.”

 “Sounds like the kind of name you would give an urban spy.”

“Maybe, I’m guessing the latter part of my name is via European slave ship, still I’m happy with it.”

 “So this story.”

 “All the penthouse suites have private balconies, Miss Cormount. Given that our building stands 14 stories above the ground I think they are too low and built way before health and safety regulations really mattered. Anyway, when the lady expired it was a dark night like tonight with high clouds. Nobody saw her go, but when she hit the ground it was like a large incendiary device had gone off.”

 “You’re making it up because I promised to sleep with you,” she said and smiled at me, the shorts rode down a little more.

I smiled the kind of smile you use when you don’t care what the other person has just said to you when you only want to see them naked. This wasn’t the first time I’d been on the verge of bedding a guest, in fact Id had a few conquests, but playing along with the nonsense of a charade kept the night interesting.

 “You know with your looks and a name like Saffron Cormount you should hit the big screen.”

 “I hope your chat up lines improve with alcohol. These days a girl is expected to do for self but drop everything when the right man comes along. I’ve done the modelling thing and tall, dark and handsome guy thing and they are both a crock of shit. When people generally tell you what you should want but it doesn’t come naturally to you it’s a crock of shit.”

 “How dark we talking, European or where man began?”

 “Dark enough for a girl like me from Chautauqua County. I married him, might get married to him again one day. I’ve learnt that you can make a lot of mistakes in the time the lord allows you,” she said. A soft frown appeared on her face as though she was remembering something she was disappointed with but fond of.

 “I let him down,” she said. “Bit of a dirty trick, I put him a bad place without meaning to, now I owe him something.”

I took the remote off the couch, brushing her leg in the process, she didn’t flinch. Her legs were soft and warm. I changed the track on the system to
Pretty Wings
by Maxwell. She sang and hummed along, Maxwell gets them every time I thought to myself.

 “Saffron Cormount is the kind of name that does dances in a seedy night club, dives that don’t know the difference between a classically trained dancer and a stripper, can’t tell the difference between a supple ballerina and someone trying to grind her pussy into your lap for tricks. Some people like that I got a little Indian in me.”

 “Indian?”

 “Seneca.”

I smiled at her, wondering what she charged for a dance. A lot of the women who danced at places like Spearmint Rhino were trained dancer getting more in tips than they could ever hope to make earning ‘honest’ money performing in front of thousands. I often heard that these women enjoyed the attention, the perks and a couple even found love. But there was a flip side, for the few good places most were just brothels or drug dens masquerading as gentleman’s clubs.

 “I bet when you were there Miss Cormount the place wasn’t a dive, what did you dance to?”

 “Mainly classical stuff, none of that generic stripper music you usually hear, I had a Swan Lake routine, where you could see my naked silhouette. Nothing seedy, I wanted to be the next Dita von Tease. Anyway, a few girls got into high class escorting and I said I wouldn’t be following suit and that was that. I thought maybe I could teach dance, get students you know. We all have our plans.”

I took three safe steps away from her, “well it’s been nice speak with ya, but I’ve got to go and prowl a few corridors, answer a few questions and make sure no one gets handcuffed to any bedposts.”

 “Did you really think I was going to jump?” she said.

 “Maybe.”

 “Not me, why don’t you stay a little longer, I won’t bite.”

“Afraid that I’m here to work…”

 “You used to be a copy right?”

 “D.A investigator,” I replied not sure where this was going.

 “How about a D.A escort then?”

It was nicely done, I nodded a yes.

 “Good man,” she said and stood, retied the string on her bikini top and put on a pair of bamboo wedges. She looked a little like a dark skinned Daisy Dukes now.

 “I just need to use the bathroom,” she said

She was gone fifteen minutes and I was beginning to thin that either she had lost interest in me or taken an overdose, I stood up to leave.

The bathroom door opened and I found myself frozen half way up,

 She was wearing a towel that covered her from her breasts to mid-thigh. Her frizzy brown hair was wet from a recent shower and her skin was damp, giving it a kind of luster. She dropped something, maybe a hair band, and turned to pick it up. As she bent down I could see the whole of her ass and some of her shaved womanliness.

“Excuse me for a moment, I just need to put something on,” she said and moved to the bedroom closing the door behind her.

This was an interesting build up for me, usually foreplay or role-play didn’t come into things. A beautiful woman alone in hotel wanted to distress and I simply enjoyed sex with beautiful women. I began working on opening a bottle of champagne from the guest fridge.

Ten minutes later she came out, her hair dried and the towel replaced by ludicrously tight t-shirt and lace boy shorts.

I reached for the champagne I’d put in an ice bucket, as I popped the cork its contents sprayed cold liquid over her top.

“You bastard,” she said recoiling.

"My apologies, but it’s hard to concentrate when a beautiful woman dresses like that," I replied almost laughing.

"My top is soaked through now."

"Maybe you should take it off," I said.

As I looked at her wet top it became very apparent that she had neglected the need for a bra, and her nipples were erect as a result of the champagne.

Faking moodiness she threw herself down on the couch, stretched her legs, turned to her side and looked at me as if she were planning an attack.

"Massage my legs!" she commanded.

“I’m afraid that service is only available between the hours of 9am and 5pm Miss,” I said getting into character. She had nice legs tanned and smooth and I was fighting the urge kiss, suck and bite them. I don’t go in for pale and pasty.

“Please.”

“Why?”

“It’s the start of a journey.”

“Fair enough,” I said.

“There’s some oil in my bag on the bedside,” she said.

I got the damned Jojo bean oil and sat next to her on the couch.

"Move your right leg; I told her, I can only do one leg at a time."

I started at the sole of her foot, slowly working my way up her soft calf and onto her firm thigh, feeling a little more turned on as I continued. I hoped she couldn't feel my hard shaft under her leg.

I began to wonder if this was how slaveholder wives seduced male slaves. I did enjoy getting flashbacks like that.

I was just reaching the bottom of her shorts when she said, "no higher."

"I wouldn’t be so bold as to assume anything,” I answered curtly, “raise your other leg."

She let her left leg drape over the side of the sofa, as she placed her left leg on my lap, the ball of it touch my ever hardening crotch and allowing me to see a glimpse of her bald privates. If she didn’t let me strip her naked and have a party all over her body I was going to have trouble sleeping when I got back to my apartment. Again, I started at her sole and moved up her leg, deliberately, allowing her to appreciate the sensations my warm hands were causing.

She reached for the TV remote and put it on a cable station that was showing some kind of interpretation on Indecent Proposal, it wasn’t very good. The film was now entering one of those steamy sex scenes you think as a teenage boy will actually show something that exposes you to things only seniors get to see. Of course the closest you get is bare breasts and bad acting. Saffron’s eyes were fixed to the screen, as my hand worked its way up her thigh, venturing into her shorts almost at the top of her thigh, but she didn't seem to notice. It wasn't until my fingers started to massage the womanly folds her body that her body started to react with a gentle gyration against my fingertips. I looked at her as she continued to watch the film, pretending she hadn’t noticed. But her breathing became a little shallow and her lips faintly parted.

I wasn’t really taking a chance with the next action but I was enjoying the teenage tension. I let my fingers slide between her legs, and part her sweet lips, as if by accident. She wouldn’t turn to me so I began to slowly play with the ever moistening bud that was beginning to swell. Her breathing became little shallower still, and a slightly faster, as she began to give in to the pretense of ignorance as played a tune with her secret place. Her hands pseudo-unconsciously began to stroke her breasts and one even began to slip between her legs. When it ran into my hand she quickly looked at me and flushed a deep flaming red. But her look couldn’t hide wanton desire for more than just my hand.

Binding myself to the course of action I had initiated I began to slip my fingers inside her as she raised her mound against my hand. She was holding her breath, trying not to moan. She moved her hand to my trousers and unzipped them before sliding her small warm hands inside to grip my manhood.

"Can I…Can I see it?” She asked hesitantly. I didn’t lecture her on the etiquette of sexual build up; it wasn’t the sort of thing you asked permission for.

I nodded.

She pulled my man meat out of my trousers and for a few moments just appreciated its magnificence. She went onto her knees next to me and slowly began to stroke my rod, kissing me as she did so.

"Is this right?" she asked.

I nodded.

Her hand still caressing my shaft from my left hand, I took the opportunity to slide a hand under her top, gently squeezing her nipples and massaging her breasts. I wasn’t conscious of how much time had passed but I felt like I wanted to speed things up

She groaned a little louder and pushed herself harder against my hand.

"Kiss me harder,” she commanded.

Our lips clashed and my tongue rushed into her mouth, caressing tongue.

"Open your mouth," I directed her.

She did and I moved up higher on the couch until I could push my shaft into her mouth. She shook her head a little as it touched her lips.

"Suck it for me little."

Her lips began to part and her tongue tickled the head.

Suddenly my phone chimed like many glasses being clinked at a wedding for the bride and groom to kiss each other, I didn’t feel like celebrating.

 This sound was programmed for Sebastian the night porter who was like my personal watchman. I slipped him money, tickets for Nets and Knick games and even laid the foundation work on occasions for him to be successful with a few hen night participants. We had a good working relationship and he had a keen eye, I liked him and if I ever had a business in which I could employ him I would. Right now however I didn’t want his help and if this text was anything other than an emergency I was going to put him through the lobby’s glass New York souvenir display cabinet. His message just said we need to talk.