Struck By Lightning: Slow Satisfaction Part 23

"I have not heard a peep, dear. No sign of him. I think you were right. He must have been no more than a common criminal and is certainly not worth my expending any more thought about. Did I tell you I met a nice man at the gym?"

"Um, no."

"He's a research librarian at a university in Chicago, but he's here on sabbatical while he takes care of his aging mother after she had a fall."

I wondered if the aging mother was real or if this was another one of her ways to work herself into a conversation. "That's sweet."

"He is. So smart. We're going to a book club together tomorrow night, and the Rosemonts are coming over for dinner Friday. His mother's in bed asleep by seven every night. Can you believe that? So he's free every night of the week."

"That sounds great, Mom. Just take it slow, okay?"

"Oh, I'm taking it very slow. Don't worry. I've only let him kiss me so far."

"Mom!" I really did not want to hear about her s.e.x life.

"Honestly, Karina, you'd think your generation had invented dating."

"I'm just saying if you're seeing him every night of the week, that doesn't sound like going slow to me."

She was silent a moment, and I heard the clack of the curling iron being put down. She picked up the phone then. "Karina, I know you want the best for me, but let's get one thing straight. You've made it completely clear to me I don't get to pick your boyfriends. Well, you don't get to pick mine."

"Okay! Okay, Mom, yes, I totally agree with that. I wasn't trying to criticize your choice. He sounds great. It's just, you know, after what happened, I get worried."

"Well, now you know how I felt after you and your sister moved to New York City," she said smugly. "Stop worrying. I admit I may have done some unwise, maybe even nonsensical, things in the past. G.o.d forbid you should be alone when you're older, Karina. I don't wish this lesson on anyone, even if I do wish you'd understand me better."

"Okay. I'm sorry, Mom. I guess I just didn't think. You know, I always think of you as so self-sufficient. You did such a great job raising us as a single mom. We certainly never felt you needed a man around."

"There's a big difference between needing a man and wanting a man," my mother said.

"Yeah. Well, keep me and Jill posted about how it goes."

"I will, darling. Speaking of Jill, she told me you're in Las Vegas? I thought you were going to rewrite your thesis."

"I am, but I have a couple of months to do it and this chance to be in a dance production came up."

"You didn't tell me you had started dancing again! Karina, that's wonderful!"

"Well, I just found out today that I got the part."

"Even more wonderful! Should I start making plans to come see this show?"

"Oh, maybe! I'll get the dates and details and send them to you."

"And what about your own man situation? You haven't even mentioned him yet. Does that mean you're quits now, and off to Vegas like a showgirl?"

"Goodness, no, Mom. We're getting along pretty well now. I mean, it's not all smooth sailing, and right now he's got this crazy ex trying to make our lives difficult, but I think it's going to work out eventually. He's here, too..." I heard a knock and went to look through the peephole, but I didn't see anyone in the hallway.

"So glad to hear it. Was there anything else you needed, Karina? My hair's done and I have to go soon."

"No, that was it. Bye, Mom. Have fun."

"Give your fella a kiss on the cheek from me, then, dear. Bye."

I hung up the phone. My mother had gotten really direct after that blow to the head. I think I liked her this way, but it was going to take some getting used to.

The knock came again and I realized it was coming from the connecting door. I opened it and Stefan came in with two men from hotel security. "We're checking for spy devices," he said. His expression was as serious as I'd ever seen it. All trace of his usual baby-faced look was gone.

"Spy devices?"

"Bugs, cameras, that sort of thing. Just in case." He was trying to sound light, but he failed.

James spoke to him from the doorway. "Have you heard from your contact with the local police?"

"Oh, yes." Now Stefan cracked a small smile. "They'd be all ears, if we were to involve them."

One of the two suited men with Stefan spoke up. "We'd prefer to handle it internally, of course."

"As would we," James said. "But I like to know where we stand. Good work, Stefan."

I followed James back into the suite. He shed the robe and slipped back into bed.

I crawled across the bedspread to kiss him on the cheek. "There. That's from my mother. She says everything's fine."

"Excellent," he said with another yawn. "Stefan told me that in Ohio he suspected you were being tailed."

"He told me it wasn't unusual for your car to be followed."

"No, no. I mean he suspected you were the one being tailed. And it's too much of a coincidence for Betancourt to show up here right after Ferrara spoke to you. He and Ferrara must be working together."

"Ohhh. And you think that's how they met? He was following me while she was following you?"

"Something like that. Perhaps he had your mother's house staked out. Anyway. If he fled here to report to her, Ferrara probably knows by now that her bid to get you to leave me didn't work." He yawned again and closed his eyes.

"Tsk. Here we are in one of the most exciting cities in the world, and you're falling asleep," I teased.

"You try getting by on four hours of sleep in the last forty-eight," he said. "No one's heard from Ferrara or seen her since her visit to you. And her things are gone from her room downstairs. I wonder if she has withdrawn from the field of battle." He yawned again. "I'll have to worry about her later. How about you? Want a nap?"

"I suppose a little rest couldn't hurt."

"Excellent. Get undressed and come under the covers."

I looked behind me at the door connecting to my room. The men were still in there, poking around. I slid under the covers and undressed while under them, flinging my clothes off the bed one item at a time.

James was in satin pajama bottoms and nothing else. He groaned as I pressed myself against him.

"You'd think I'd be completely sated," he complained.

I slid my hand up his leg to find him hard and needy again. "Here." I slipped my hand under his waistband and stroked him gently. "Bet I can make you come in under two minutes. And then you can nap in peace."

"You bet? What do you wager if you fail?"

"That'll be up to you, but I won't fail."

"All right, sweetness. Go to it."

I licked the palm of my hand and began to stroke him. Two minutes might be ambitious, but I figured whatever penalty he decided to exact if I failed would be as much fun as any reward for success. BDSM was win-win that way.

I'm sure it was longer than two minutes. More like four, before he was straining and groaning in my hand, his own long fingers interlacing with mine in the final seconds before he erupted. He curled away from me, pulling me to spoon with him as he quaked through the aftershocks, and then was asleep before either of us could let go.

The men were gone from next door. Once I was sure James was deeply asleep, I slipped out of the bed to clean up. There wasn't much, since he hadn't had time to replenish his supply. Then I got back in and snoozed contentedly with him.

When I woke, he was sitting up in bed with his phone, apparently texting back and forth with someone. He saw I was awake and reached down to stroke my hair.

"Anything going on?" I asked.

"Nothing exciting," he answered. "Get this. Ferrara told Alicia she was checking into a different hotel because she developed a sudden gluten allergy and the pasta bar in the restaurant here was setting it off."

"That sounds less than plausible."

"If she is caught out she will no doubt say she made up the story to protect our sensibilities from a more awful truth." He shook his head. "Am I terribly cold to her? I'm afraid I've grown very hardened to her nonstop attempts to rouse my sympathies, whether fake or genuine."

"I'm probably not a good judge of that," I admitted.

"It's a large reason why I want to get out of the business," he said. "To get free of her. Her advances after she divorced her husband became relentless. I don't think I've convinced her that the way I felt when I was a starry-eyed, h.o.r.n.y twenty-year-old isn't how I feel about her now. I thought I had at least convinced her to give it up, but as we know, what I thought was a done deal didn't stick."

"What's she going to do when she finds out her ploy to get me to leave you didn't work?"

"No idea. I will worry about it once we know." He turned to me, setting the phone aside and propping his head up on one folded arm. "Let's go out."

"Out?"

"Yes. I have an idea." He slipped from the bed fully naked and retrieved one of his suitcases, which looked like they hadn't been opened since he'd arrived earlier. He lifted it onto the bed. When he unzipped it, at first all I could see was folded clothes. Then he dug through and took some items out. He tossed something toward me that looked at first glance like a small dog caught in a net.

A wig. I took it out of the net and held it up. Sandy-colored, shoulder length. "Is this for you or for me?"

He took out another one, orange-red and spiky, and twirled it on his finger. "Which one would I look least like myself in?"

"I've never seen your hair orange before..."

"All right. Wait, I have another red one for you." He dug into another pocket and brought out a long wig, gently wavy, in a red auburn color.

I tried to pull it over my head, but he wagged his finger at me. "There's a way to do it. I'll show you."

Next thing I knew, we were in the bathroom, and he was using bobby pins to secure my hair atop my head so that no stray bits hung down. He showed the inside of the wig where tiny combs clipped to my hair.

"Shake your head."

I shook it gently at first, as if saying "no" to him, then more vigorously, like a go-go dancer. The wig stayed secure. "That's amazing."

"Let me make up your face, too."

"You know how to do makeup?"

He looked at me impatiently. "Do you doubt me?"

"Well, yeah. Most guys-"

"Have I ever struck you as anything like most guys?"

"No..."

"Bend over. Ten for that."

I grinned as I felt a sudden thrill like the start of a roller-coaster ride. "Yes, James." Why had I even bothered to pull a bathrobe on? I let it drop, leaned over, and braced my hands on the side of the tub.

I expected him to start light and ramp up, but no, the smacks were fierce and quick and over in a flash, leaving me gasping and suddenly very wet.

"Stay still," he said, and in the bathroom mirror I could see his erection coming to full hardness. He stepped close, running his hand up and down my reddened a.s.s, and then using one finger to test how wet I was. He made a pleased, satisfied noise when he felt the ample slickness.

"You have my body trained," I gasped as he slid one finger into me.

"No," he corrected. "I have you trained."

"Yes, James." I blushed at how proud he sounded as he'd said it.

"Let's see if we can train you a bit more. Come suck on the head of my c.o.c.k. Only the head."

I started to kneel, but he said, "No, no, stay bent over. Put your hands behind your back. And walk over here." He hefted his b.a.l.l.s, making the head and shaft of him bounce up and down.

I put my hands behind my back and walked toward him like some kind of awkward, hungry flamingo, my mouth open and reaching for the prize that awaited me.

But as I was about to close my lips over him, he stepped backward, out of reach. I took another step forward, and again he teased me by backing up, stepping out of the bathroom this time. He led me that way, like a horse and a carrot, until he was up against one of the beds and sat on the edge. My mouth closed over the tip of him.

"Now. Suck gently, gently, good. Now swirl your tongue in a circle. Fantastic." He stood and I stayed with him, never letting his c.o.c.k free. "Try to stay still now," he said, as he pushed himself more deeply into my mouth, and then deeper, and deeper until I gagged. He withdrew slowly, seemingly not bothered by my coughing with him still in my mouth. "Good girl. Try to take another inch this time."

He thrust in and again I gagged, this time gasping to try to catch my breath, which had only been cut off for a second, but that was enough to kick in my instinct.

"Do you know why I love putting my c.o.c.k in your mouth?" he asked.

I shook my head, not wanting to let go of it unless told to.

"First and foremost, because I can. That it feels good is also a plus. That you do it so obediently is another. That it brings tears to your eyes and tests your control"-he grabbed me by the wig and thrust three, four, five times into my throat, making me gag and snort, then changed to holding me by the chin with one hand, slapping my tongue with the head of his c.o.c.k with the other-"that is wonderful. Hands on top of your head."

I laced my fingers and put them on top of my head, atop the wig.

"Keep your tongue out."

He kept slapping my tongue with his c.o.c.k, then switched to slapping my face with it, wetting my cheeks while I kept my tongue extended.