Ch. 5 Angel
I crossed the pool deck. Back inside, Milford waited at the door. I gestured over my shoulder with a thumb. "I hope you're hungry, buddy." He smiled and started quickly. I grabbed him by the shoulder. "Where in this pile can I find Angel?"
He pointed. "Three doors down on the left is her suite."
We went our separate ways.
Before I reached the indicated door, it opened and a figure came through. Nearly 6' tall, slender, with pale skin like bone china, topped with a shaggy explosion of red hair: Angel Stonewood. She wore a black bustier pushing out mounds of milk-white breasts, and exposing her flat belly below. A ruby hung in a piercing at her naval. A black miniskirt clung to her hips. Black combat boots encased her feet. She dashed toward me. As she drew close, she faked a slip and threw herself forward into my arms.
"Oh, I didn't see you there," she said, pawing at my chest. "My, aren't you a big, strong bear!"
I stood her up. "You're all right now, Angel."
She poked her forefinger between her red-lipsticked lips and worked it in and out. Tipping her head forward, she looked up at me with ice-blue eyes from under that red rag-mop. I noted silver sparkle eye-shadow, and silver glitter dusting her high cheekbones. She pulled the finger down over her lower lip and twisted it against her chin. "I don't think I'll ever be all right. Who are you? What are you doing here?"
"I'm Rick Mallet. The General hired me to find Randy Mercury."
"Oh! You're the one everyone downtown calls Doggy. Why do they call you that?"
"It's a long story."
"Come on in. I've got time." She took my hand and pulled me toward the door. "How are you going to find Randy?"
"I thought you could help me."
She stopped dead, turned to look straight into my eyes. "I don't think so."
"Did you see him the night he disappeared?"
She turned, opened the door, and tugged me through. "Oh yes. We made the most exquisite love right there on that couch, just before he left. Come sit down." She pulled me toward the aforementioned couch. When I sat, she stood before me. Spreading her legs to straddle my feet, she leaned forward, grasped the top of her bustier, pulled it down, and asked, "How do you like my boobs?"
They were terrific: large, firm, with wide conical aureole and small erect nipples. I said so.
She dipped forward and rolled her shoulders like a dancer in a Bob Fosse musical. The boobs swung gently an inch from my face. The movement was almost natural, and I could hardly see the surgery scars.
"They're the best money can buy. Do you want to suck on them? Every time I look in the mirror, I want to suck on them."
I began to feel as if I were trapped in a live-action version of that long hallway: an endless reel of sex scenes punctuated by red-haired and blue-eyed Stonewoods of different ages. What a bunch of exhibitionists!
She was fingering her nipples, tugging them toward my mouth. "Suck, suck my titties!"
I went to work on them, wetting them generously, moving from one to the other, rolling the nipple of the off one between my fingertips, sucking the nipples and lengthening them, massaging the breasts.
She hunched over me, the shaggy mop of hair draping down to brush the top of my head. Her breathing deepened. "Oh, yes," she hissed. "Suck on my beautiful boobs. Lick those tits." She ground herself on my cock. It swelled and thickened, rising to the challenge. Her eyes widened. She slid off me, to kneel before me. "I need to see this big dick!" She tugged at my zipper and freed it. Wrapping both hands around it, she licked at the tip, then pulled her head back and looked up at me. "You taste like my mother's cunt."
I looked at her.
She said, "I can be a better woman for you than she is. Did she do this?" She plunged her face down on my cock. I felt the soft, wet tunnel of her throat take me down. She breathed through her nose, holding me deep. Then I felt her tongue slithering over my balls. It was exquisite. "Better than mommy, right?"
"Beyond comparison, Angel."
She engulfed my cock again, pulled off and sucked my balls individually. I toyed my fingers in her shaggy hair and glanced around the room. A poorly-hidden pipe and baggy of crystal meth gave me a clue about her manic state.
She let my balls fall from her mouth with a pop, and jumped up.
"Look at my ass. What do you think of my ass?" She turned around and lifted the miniskirt in the back. A lacy thong split her ass. First confirmed underwear in the Stonewood household.
She was shaking and twerking to a tune only she could hear.
"Do you love it?"
"It's a beauty. You're a beauty."
