Dangerous Lady

So, if you knew she could be dangerous, but she was the hottest fucking woman you had ever gotten closer than arms length to, would you go for it? Of course you fucking would. She was five foot seven inches of sexy, with blond hair down to her lovely ass, a pair of 36 C cups, and that tight ass was to die for. As far as the face, she would put Michelle Williams to shame. However, she had put two men in the hospital, caused one to leave the country, and her second husband has not been seen for two years, not a trace, no sign he even existed. He just seemed to up and vanish.

She came into my bar, sat alone for a while, blew off two losers who tried to come on to her, and ordered two drinks that she nursed until I was getting ready to close, then she asked if I knew of a place she could stay. Of course I had a place and her staying there would be a pleasure I would not be avoiding if I had any sense. I knew her from around, knew of her reputation, and I had been warned away by guys who found out about the risks the hard way.

"I could take the couch," I said with more chivalry than usual. "Couple days, or more permanent?" She finished her drink and set down the glass.

"Couple days to permanent," she said with a killer smile that would leave any guy breathing hard from just getting it. Visions of more than sugar plumbs danced in my head. It wasn't Merry Christmas that she was offering, and I knew the dangers.

"I have a Simmons mattress and a big fluffy pillow," I said, "and a walk-in closet with one whole side empty as seaman's underwear drawer." She laughed at my description and blew me another smile.

"I don't have a lot of clothes, not right now. I am sort of between closets," she said.

"I don't live at the Ritz, but it has four walls and a lock on the door." Again with the grin. "You are welcome for as long as you want," I said, knowing I was taking a chance, but the visions of hot sex were warping my judgement. I knew it was foolish to think with my cock, but that was what I was going with at the time.

"I will be gone most of the day," she said, but I was not thinking about daytime anyway.

She brought a small carry-on and a dress on a hanger. We put the dress in the empty side of the closet and the bag on the floor under it. She spent a few minutes in the bathroom, then came out wearing as close to nothing as a person could have without being nude. It was so sheer I could see the wall behind her through it.

"I am not all that modest," she said without smiling.

I took some blankets out of the drawer and put them on the couch, hoping they would not see much use. She closed the door and my hopes hit the floor and I began making a bed on the couch. The door opened and she stood in the doorway, the light behind her silhouetting her nakedness through the thin material. "My name is Claire, by the way," she said.

"Goodnight, Claire," I said, a little disappointment in my voice. Without further comment she closed the door. My mood darkened as the light from my bedroom was shut out by the closed door. I lifted the blankets and climbed under the covers. I had been tucked into my lonely bed for about fifteen minutes when the bedroom door opened and Claire stepped into the room.

"It is awfully lonely in here," she said. "Would you like to join me?" I could not get off the couch fast enough, then I caught myself.

"You sure?" I said shakily. "No obligation. Just because you are using the bed, it doesn't have to be," I said. What an idiot. A traffic looking woman invites you to bed, and you try to talk her out of it. Are you nuts? I stood holding the blankets up, waiting for god knows what.

"If you are interested," she said with a little-girl voice, almost sounding too young to jump into bed with. "Please," she said, the little girl voice gone.

As I entered she lifted the tiny nightgown over her head and tossed it to the side, removing all doubt from the situation. I stepped out of the pajama bottoms, which was all I was wearing. She lifted the covers, inviting me formally into my own bed, and I scooted in next to her. As I did she pulled her warm naked body against mine and wrapped her legs around me.

"I don't fuck every man I stay with," she said into my neck. My hands, as if on their own, went to her bottom and I pulled her against me. Her pelvis pushed against mine and I had already began to 'grow' to the occasion. I felt her hand take ahold of my erection and guide me to the wet spot between her legs. I could feel the muscles of her stomach against me and the soft wetness of her sex greeted the tip of my cock as it touched her pussy at the perfect place, parting her soft labia and pushing in.

She thrust her hips forward and forced me deeper. I picked up my pace and that seemed to ignite her, causing her to thrash about and match my tempo. We had fucked for about fifteen minutes when she whispered in my ear. "If you like pussy for dinner, I am game. You like game? Venison? Rabbit? Steak?" She giggled and arched her back to meet my motion. Without a word I slipped out of her and moved down her body until my chin was just below her soft spot.

As I put my mouth against her supple lips she moaned. I put out my tongue and tasted her. She was lemony with a tang of tartness and I licked the length of her moist labia.

The thin lips seemed to jump with my touch and I pushed between them, forcing them apart and reaching into her cavity. Her hips began to push against my face, and her legs opened wider, pleading for me to go deeper, faster, and with energy.

She put her hand on top of my head and pressed down, pulling me against her pussy, begging me to continue, pleading with me not to stop. I opened her lips with two fingers and swabbed deeper and faster, now tasting the fluid that flowed from her cunt into my mouth like from a faucet. I swallowed and gulped, like it was tasty juice from the sweetest fruit.

I let my tongue move down to her anus and I pushed into her tiny hole. She began to growl like a tigress and I continued to eat her, moving my head back and forth rapidly. She came with a shriek and her body tensed and she began to shake and growl, humping against my face and holding my head against her. She continued to come for another minute, then her body relaxed and her sigh was as loud as a shout.

"Oh my god," she cried out. "You eat pussy like you mean it," she said breathlessly. I scooted up and took her into my arms.

"I do mean it," I said, kissing her neck.

Then I placed my growing cock back at her wet entryway and for a second time that night I pushed into her, parting her thick lips and sliding between them. This time I moved slowly in and out, keeping a steady rhythm into her damp and well lubricated pussy. Our hips moved together and she seemed to like the deliberate motion. I could hear a low groan from her as we fucked, a sound from deep in her throat that seemed to rumble up from deep inside her.

Her arms went around me and pulled me to her, grinding her pelvis against me, letting her hips move with mine and the warmth of her body felt hot against my flesh. This time her climax was subdued and controlled, sensuous and gentle. I imagined I could hear her humming as she came, happy to be having a slow and quiet orgasm, one that was able to be savored and prolonged.

We didn't talk but drifted off to sleep, and in the morning we fixed breakfast, ate quietly, and didn't talk about the night before. She left at about eight and I gave her a hug as she left. We were almost strangers as she left and I watched her walk toward the train station. She turned and looked at me before she began walking again and headed around the corner.

Since my work time starts about six and ends at just after two, I went back inside and crawled back in bed. That night I got home at two thirty and expected to find her already in bed, but the bed was still made, the dress was gone from the closet and the carry-on bag was missing.

There was no note, no message on the machine, and no sign that anyone except me had been there. The dishes were done, the floor had been swept, and the trash had been emptied.

If in fact she was dangerous, I guess I could consider myself lucky. One night of fabulous sex was more than a lot of people ever got, and I wasn't going to vanish and not be seen again or end up in the hospital, or bankrupt and ruined. She had said a couple days to permanent and it didn't make it to a couple of days, but it was good as long as it lasted. The next night I got home I looked in the closet for a suitcase, but the right side of the closet was still empty and the bed was still made and unoccupied.

At just before closing, each night, I kept looking for a single figure to enter and order a martini to nurse and sit quietly, minding her own business and brushing off unwanted advances from drunk customers who thought they'd have a chance which they didn't. No one ever came and my searching was for naught, and my bed was only used by me. It was good, I told myself, as long as it lasted. I smiled at my nonsensical cheerfulness. "At least I am not dead," I said aloud to the empty room.