Chapter Two: The Bitch
Christina:
Even before the taxi was out of the driveway, Winston was next to me, bending down to gather up my matched set of Louis Vuitton luggage. As he picked up the plastic duty free bag, the bottles inside clinked together giving me a chance to swat him with my white gloves; I'd wanted to hit somebody,
anybody
, for hours.
"Be careful damn it," I snarled, and then shouldering my big black purse, walked up the familiar steps taking as long of strides as my tight uniform skirt and four inch heels would allow.
It had been a ghastly flight from Paris; there had been interminable delays on the ground at Orlando International, and after fourteen hours in crew busses, planes and taxis, I was long past the limit of my temper. The sight of Gloria holding open the door with her tightly sheathed hip did a lot to calm me down; seeing my lush, plump-lipped roomie always gave me a boost.
It was early October and still stifling in Cocoa Beach, but it was nice and cool inside, and smelled wonderfully of booze, leather, perfume, and pussy. I could tell just by sniffing the air that Gloria had been having a go at Winston.
"Good," I thought, "he's been getting off to easily lately," and right now I felt like knocking him around a bit myself.
"Rough flight darling?" Gloria asked sympathetically, pressing her full breasts against my stiff tunic and her red lips against my weary cheek.
"The worst," I replied tossing my gloves and little cap in the general direction of the hallway. "I'll tell you all about it, but first I have to get out of this damn uniform."
"Of course, you poor thing, your drink will be waiting for you," she said.
"Lovely," I replied.
Gloria had a husky accent that just dripped with classy sexuality, a product of years of private schooling in England where she'd been born. I tried to imitate it all the time now, it made me feel so much more sophisticated and intelligent than when I used my native, small town Indiana slang.
I wanted to grab Gloria by the back of the head and crush her with a rough kiss, but she wasn't ready for that yet, and now wasn't the time to do it, not with hours of stale 707 air clinging to me. I. I felt gritty and loathsome. Still, I made a point of unbuttoning my tunic, tossing it to the floor and pulling my stiff blouse out of my skirt before turning to walk towards my bedroom. Winston, who had already hustled past me with my bags would come back and pick up my clothes later.
I had shimmied out of my skirt and kicked off my heels by the time I entered my room where Winston was unpacking my bags and sorting the dirty clothes into piles.
I gave him a swat on the back of the head, "Come on," I complained, "I'm fucking exhausted," and stood impatiently with my arms up.
Out of my heels, Winston was tall enough to lift my shift up over my head. I was not as buxom as Gloria was, but curvy enough that I had to wiggle as he worked the tight garment over my hips. I stood there topless, my tits still firm and perky enough not to need a bra, in French cut, lacy panties while he unfastened my stockings and slid them off of my legs.
He was disciplined enough not to stare, and turned his attention back to the laundry while I pulled off my panties and tossed them towards the pile.
"Those are very expensive, so take extra care rinsing them out," I said and then turned and strode across the hall to the bathroom.
By the time I had showered and brushed my teeth, all of the clothes I had strewn down the hallway were gone along with the piles of laundry in my room. I wrapped my squeaky-clean body in a crisp, med-thigh length red kimono, touched up my make-up, put on a pair of fuzzy high-heeled slippers, and returned to the living room where Gloria lolled on the couch half pissed. Winston sat off to the side brushing my blue suede boots.
"Let me see," I said towering over him. He started to get up, but I gave him a kick on the shoulder; "I didn't tell you to get up," I snarled.
The little bugger had really sprouted in the last few months, he was now a good six inches taller than me, so I didn't like him standing next to me. He handed me a boot and I inspected it carefully. It was properly brushed and treated.
"Hunh," I said and dropped it in his lap, the chunky heel aimed at his bulging crotch.
The shower had revived me and sloughed off some of the miserable day, but I still felt mean.
"You look darling in that Christina," Gloria cooed.
She was sitting back in the wide couch, tight up against the armrest so she could keep her drink on the end table beside her. With her shapely legs stretched out on an ottoman, her tight ivory shift riding up to mid-thigh, her big breasts flowing out of the top and sides of its long, spaghetti strap top, she looked very seductive.
"Come and sit," she said in a slow, slurry, sexy voice.
