Dair

I pulled her hot little mouth to mine, kissed her deep, her pulpy lips giving to mine, driving me wild.  I took my time, pulled back, and pushed her head back down.

I watched her head bobbing on my colorful shaft, eyes heavy lidded, breath panting out of me.

Generally, it was a dick move to draw a b**w j*b out longer, but I couldn’t seem to help myself this time, enjoying the view too much, taking permanent snapshots in my mind for future use.

She’d just finished sucking the last drop of seed from my tip when I yanked her up on the bed and flipped her onto her back, legs spread wide.

Her feet tapped out a vigorous rhythm on my back as I lapped between her thighs.  I took my time, tongue and hands working her cunt over thoroughly.

I did this until she’d come twice, and I was ready to come again.

I climbed up her body, using my h*ps to spread her legs wider, my body coming down heavy on hers.  She took my weight with gasping delight, and I came inside of her, and she felt so good, so hot and slick and narrow, closing around me snugly from tip to base, that I nearly exploded right then.

“I’m pretty sure lipstick is probably meant for external use only,” I told her as I moved inside of her.

“Oh sure, now you tell me,” she gasped back with a smile, moving her heels to dig into the bed, thrusting her h*ps up to take me deeper.  “A little late.”

I laughed and kissed her.  “I love you,” I told her, surging into her, already racing toward the finish.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

We set our plan in motion the next day.

I packed a small suitcase with one nice suit, swim trunks, several T-shirts and athletic shorts, plenty of boxer briefs, one extra pair of nice shoes, and the essential toiletries, prepped my work issues for a two-week absence, and left my house at ten a.m., clear instructions in my head, per Iris.

It was scary how good she was at this sort of thing, how familiar.

I drove my black Prius to Boulder Station, one of the local haunts, way across town, on Boulder Highway.  I parked it in the vast parking lot, walked through the casino, and exited the building at the taxi station.

I took a cab to Sam’s Town, another local haunt, and repeated the process, this time telling the new cabby to take me to the Bellagio, a casino on the strip.

From Bellagio, I took a taxi to Aria, another strip casino.  From Aria, I rode to the Stratosphere.

At this one, a hoodie and dark shades wearing Iris met me at the taxi station, and slipped into the car with me, this time giving the cab driver a home address.

She sent me a sidelong smile as the taxi started to move.

“How can you be absolutely sure I lost the tail?” I asked her, glancing behind us.

“Can’t be, that’s why we’ll do one more check.”

About halfway to our destination, Iris had the driver pull over on the side of a quiet street and wait for ten minutes, meter running.

Nothing happened.  No tail.

We smiled happily at each other and headed to her friends’ house.

We were walking Frankie and Estella’s dogs, twin black labs, in their busy neighborhood park a few days later, and I’d just said something, (in a pretty off-handed way, it should be noted) that I’d soon regret, only I didn’t know it yet.

Iris gave me one of those mysterious looks that drove me crazy.  It was neither happy or sad, but thoughtful and a touch of something that eluded me.

“So I should be with someone closer to my own age?” she was asking me.

Had I said that?  I supposed I had.  And I supposed I still believed it, though that didn’t mean I was happy about it.

I sighed.

She had no intention of letting it go.

“Have you talked to any twenty-year-old boys lately, Dair?”

I tried to change the subject.  I hadn’t liked it, anyway.  “Are you saying you’re twenty now?”

“You’re avoiding the question.  Do you think I should be with someone closer to my own age?”

I sighed again.  “Yes of course.  I’ve told you this.”

“And you want to be with someone your age?”  Her tone was so idle that I didn’t hesitate to answer.

“I certainly think that would be more appropriate.”

Did I intend to follow through with my words?

Fuck no.  Not with any of them.

I just felt the need to say them.  They were the most rudimentary form of lip service.  A sop to my conscience, as it were.

As though that settled something, she nodded and started looking around the park.

“Why?  Why did you just ask me that?”

“That photographer friend of yours is very beautiful.”

“She is.”  Though I was trying to recall when Iris could have gotten a good look at her, and came up blank.

“And into you.  On your coffee date, she leaned in your direction, and laughed a lot.  That’s got to be a good sign.  Does she know about me?”

I studied her, wondering just how much Iris must have either spied on me, or had someone else do it.  I tried to work up some righteous outrage, but too many conflicted emotions made it hard to form a response, not the least of which worry that she knew I’d gone out for coffee with another woman, and didn’t seem to mind, going by her nonchalant tone.

“I’ll take that as a no.  Do you think she’s interested in you?”

This was strange for her, and bad for me.  To say she wasn’t the jealous type was the understatement of the year, but this was shaping into what, for a normal girl, would have been a jealous line of questioning.