Lucky Number Seven

The air was stifling. Though the lobby was air conditioned, the old Montreal humidity seeped through the hotel's main doors and seemed to rest on the nape of her neck. Of course, the walk from the bus stop and the brewing anticipation didn't help to keep her cool. She stood at the elevator door waiting for it to reach ground floor, shifting her weight and smiling politely at an old couple discussing their busy drive in to the city.

"I don't understand what he was doing out there! He sees me puling in and it's clearly my turn to go. I mean what's the point of a stop sign if no one ever stops!" the husband exclaimed, as he searched his wife's face for concurrence.

With a shrug of acknowledgement, she looked to the ceiling, fanned herself with a city map and sighed. "I'm shvitzing over here."

"Me too

," the girl thought to herself, as the elevator arrived.

They all piled in and pushed their desired buttons. She needed a minute to compose herself and so was thankful when the couple got off on the next floor. She looked at the numbered panel inside the elevator with the seventh floor button illuminated.

"Lucky number seven!" she uttered as she faced one of the mirrored walls, turning half way to then look at herself over her shoulder. Was she checking to see her shape, her hair, if she had somehow accumulated dirt on her flowing short dress on the bus ride over? She wasn't even sure herself but was obvious that she was anxious and flustered. Outside of this elevator she was confident and kind. You could tell in the way she walked, her smile, her laugh and how strangers would gravitate to her. And yet, beneath that, behind her strong eyes and soft curves there was a wild calm. It was as if a forceful wind settled within her and now, somehow, it's unwavering howl transformed itself into a steady hum that was anxious still to break free. There, inside the elevator that night, she was a tigress. She locked eyes with her reflection; the ferocity, the determination, the excitement. She gave the reflection a playful smile, knowing that she would soon have her prey. Then, with a mellow 'ding', the elevator's heavy doors separated and she stepped out. Stopping for a moment first to let the air condition in the hallway cool her skin, she continued on her way down the hall, scanning the doors until she found it. Room 718. She stepped up, tapping ever so lightly with her ear to the door, as if delivering a secret in Morse code. To her delight, her message was countered with a series of clicks and clacks as he unlocked the chain and bolt on the door. He peeked out into the hallway and with a sort of cheekiness, "Hey there beautiful!" Her eyes flickered a smile and she pushed through the door way.

The room was what you'd expect of a basic hotel suite. Small console on the right and on the left the bathroom, whose light cascaded into the otherwise dim entrance where she stood that opened into the bedroom area. Looking around the room you could tell that someone had been staying there a while, bed unmade, papers strew on the desk and likely a few dishes in the kitchenette sink that disappeared off to the side somewhere. He shuffled nervously and circled to the centre of the room, as if just realizing the state of their surroundings, and began picking up a few articles of clothing to throw into the already overflowing suitcase on the floor.

"Sorry I meant to clean this place up a bit but I just got into a groove with my writing I didn't want to break," he said flustered. "How are you? How was your trip over?"

"No complaints, it was quick. Nice tunes," she said and nodded at the player in the far corner.

"Isn't it terribly cliché? Writer, in the zone, listening to the blues... just need a glass of malt liquor and a self rolled cigarette," he chuckled and moved to turn it off.

"No leave it. I like it"

"Yeah? You like the blues?"

Do I like the blues?

She thought. Zeppelin pretty much built their career on some of those old blues songs. In one of the closing lyrics of Whole Lotta Love (one of her personal favourites), Robert Plant lets out a line with that infamous unyielding intensity he has on the entire II album that undoubtedly tips his hat to the great Howlin' Wolf.

Shake for Me Girl... I wanna be your Back Door Man.

She knew this one well. It was James Cotton's

Slow Blues

. As the tone of the harmonica floated across the room and into her bones, she instinctively dropped her purse, closed her eyes, tilted her head back against the wall and swayed slowly to the music. When she finally opened her eyes she found him standing there, fixated in some sort of trance. He shook his head and chuckled nervously.

How long have I been staring at her?!

But she wasn't embarrassed, she liked that he had been watching her. Staring directly at him she lifted her right hand to her mouth and ran her fingertips slowly across her slightly parted lips. Moving with the rhythm, she lifted her left hand to her face and let both slide down her neck slowly, onto her chest, lightly grazing her plump breasts until falling again to her sides. He barrelled across the room to her barely being able to contain his own breath. He cupped his left hand around her face and neck, his fingers entangled in her mane and his thumb over her lips. Their eyes focused on each other's and for a moment they were both breathless. His clear blue eyes, full of determination, seduced by the wild, green eyed beauty that stood before him; her lashes, her cheeks, her lips... her awe inspiring lips.

He inhaled deeply, leaned in and softly kissed her. Lip upon lip, moistened by the gentle caress of their tongues. Deep breaths and slow exhales layered between the sounds of their suckled lips. Time moved at a slithering pace, fueling the already smouldering fire within. Each breath out pulled him back in. He yearned for her, to run his hands along her skin, to cloak every curve of her body with his kiss. He moved his hand down her side, across her leg and let it trickle up her inner thigh. She reached up out of his embrace and with her hands on his chest she suddenly pushed him against the opposite wall. Confused, he reached for her across the small corridor but she lifted her leg as if to warn him and pushed again. He didn't want to play this cat and mouse game, he wanted her. He

needed

her. But she was having way too much fun to stop now. Whether it was the music, the heat, or the animal inside her finally escaping it's cage she wasn't sure.

"Don't move," she whispered and shot him a sultry look.

He tried to calculate her next move, but instead just waited, hoping her game was nearly done and he could kiss her again. In that same thought, as if he had created the sequence in advance for this precise moment, CCR's version of

I Put A Spell On You

whirled into the air. And then he saw what he didn't even know he had hoped for, her hips again in that entrancing sway. The music enveloped her, wrapped around her limbs and pulled her arms up over her head as she hung onto each chord. She moved side to side, rhythmically in line with the music. And yet as she got lost in her seductive dance, he couldn't help but think that she was

the music

. Carmen's Habanera, the ancient song of the Sirens; wherever she could be heard men would follow. And he, watching the notes as they push through her gyrating hips, admittedly fell slave to the same bewildered fate. Standing in silence he obeyed her command and watched on.

She let go of any inhibitions and gave herself completely to the movement. The back of her shoulders pressed into the wall while her pelvis moved in slow thrusts, rolling out and in like waves. Her hands pressed against her breasts, pushing down gently and then squeezing hard in an upward motion that allowed the flesh to peek up from her dress before disappearing again. She did this several times, each time squeezing harder, letting out a soft moan when she finally reached into her dress and grabbed a handful of flesh. Her left breast exposed, she lifted her hand and licked her thumb. Covering her nipple in saliva, she circled her thumb around the light brown peek that formed in the centre of her breast. Hand stretch, she groped herself, ran two fingers along the sides and tugged at her hard nipple. She turned to face the wall now; so turned on it was all she could do to keep from throwing herself on him.

She raised both arms and slapped them on the wall at either side of her head. She arched her back, pushed her ass out into the air and let her hair float down her back. With her hands still planted on the wall, she twisted downwards until almost reaching the floor and then, ass first, lifted herself back up. She rolled her fingers under the hem of her dress and ran them along the fabric, looking over her shoulder to him teasingly. She pulled it just up to where her leg ended and the crease of her buttocks began, bending over a bit more as she did and then pulling the fabric taut so he couldn't see anything. Her hands let go and she straightened her form again before finally turning around to face her prey.

The tension was palpable. He realized then he was breathing heavily, panting like an animal in heat. She sauntered towards him and though he wanted to reach out and rip that dress off in one swift motion, he knew better. And so, as she nuzzled his neck and seductively nibbled his ear, he remained completely still. Her mesmerizing hips were still in motion. She rested her cheek against his and as she pushed forward in a hard and slow drive into his groin, exhaled into a deep moan. He could feel her warm breath on his neck and the swelling in his pants growing. She turned around, pulled her hair to the side and dipped her head back between his neck and shoulder. He leaned in and kissed her neck, her shoulder and then dragged his lip back to her neck again. He put his hands on her hips and she instantly ran her fingers between his, lifted them to her breasts and then squeezed. Ass pushed firmly against his body, she provocatively circled in what seemed like a sideways eight: up, sideways, down, up, side, down; each move, a smooth transition to the next. She dipped her chest forward then, bending and nearly touching the floor. He looked down and saw her ass grinding into his pants, pushing him back into the wall and then rocking up against his hardening cock. The friction had caused her dress to lift up a bit and he could see the sheer lace panties peeking out. As if with a mind of their own, his hands fell on each cheek with a light slap, gripping firmly on her flesh. She flipped her hair, lifted her body and retreated back into his shoulders. He spun her quickly around and cupped his hands around her bottom in such a way that his fingers grazed her most sensitive parts. He crept a bit further and with one hand on each cheek he spread her ass apart, running his fingers up the centre.

"Holy fuuuuuuck!" he grunted and pawed at her flesh. "All I want is to be inside you right now."

Their lips finally found each other again and rejoiced. Lip upon lip upon lip; breathing cut by their neighbouring sighs. They kissed passionately, hard and wet. He kissed her cheek, her neck, down into the dip of her collar bone, over to her shoulder, back up to her cheek and then rested on her lips again. He kissed with such fervour she thought she might combust. She grabbed at his shirt and pulled it off over his head, wanting to feel his skin as he embraced her. She positioned her hands on the wall to find some balance as he shifted his body up in all directions. Pulling the strap of her dress down he bit her shoulder lightly, and then did the same to the other. His hands dug into her dress to pull out her tits. He took a moment for praise, held one in each hand, felt the weight fall in a perfectly round cup and then crushed them into his palm. He put his mouth around her breasts taking in as much flesh as he could; suckling like a famished pup and rolling his tongue in circles over her nipples. He pushed them together tightly and then loosened his grasp just enough so that he could bury his face between, closer then to flick his tongue around. He stayed there for some time, sucking, kissing, fondling and worshipping her bosom. It had been far too long since he had had his hands on her. He knelt down in front of her, his back towards the wall. Tracing the curves of her legs he moved his hands up her skirt, wrapped them around the lace underwear he caught a glimpse of earlier and peeled them down and off her body. One foot stepped out and her other tossed them aside. He lifted the dress but before going any further, peered up to see her heated expression. He flashed a coy smirk as if bases were loaded and he was just about to knock it out of the park.

She was already spinning at the thought of his next move. She could feel him inching closer, his heated breath in-between her thighs. His hands on her legs again, kneading their way up her curvy structure and then down the middle, lightly pushing out at the knees. She understood his direction and spread her legs further apart, exposing herself even more. He lingered there, breathing in her familiar musk, salivating at the memory of her taste. He took his middle finger and placed it just at the entry way of her vagina, careful not to push in. Her body moistened as he gently reamed the tight passage, twirling his finger in a small circle. He then trailed upwards through the path of her labia, and back down to the entrance. Repeating still with one finger, up and down and up and down, until her wetness covered all of the fragile flesh of her pussy. He lifted his chin towards her and his protruding tongue followed the same path, stopping first at the entrance as if to announce its arrival. His tongue inched its way into her pussy. He moaned at the first taste of her sexual juices, quenching his lustful thirst. He opened his mouth a bit more as if to drink, but then pushed his tongue up through her pussy lips and towards her clit in a heated exhale. Down and up again, applying pressure and then circling with the tip of his firm tongue. He wrapped his lips around the head of her pussy, flattened his tongue on her clit and sucked. He sucked and flicked, back down and up again, around the fleshy bean resting atop her glorious pussy. He pulled at her skin with his lips and skimmed the folds with his tongue. He brought his right hand up to her again, running her flowing juices over the short patch of skin leading to her anus. Folding his index finger inwards, he used the top knuckles to apply pressure to the soft patch and massaged gently. Her hips rolled with the motion of his hands.

"Don't stop," she panted, face buried into the wall. "Don't you dare fucking stop."

He released the pressure only for a moment to extend his hand and advanced this time with his middle finger outstretched, driving it into her. She let out a short yelp of excitement; she had been dreaming of his hands for weeks. He pushed his finger deep inside her, bending inwards. With each pull out he curled his finger back in, hitting her G spot. She lifted her leg and draped it over his shoulder, giving him unobstructed access to her. With her opened to him he was able to shift almost directly under her. Using two fingers now he moved swiftly, gliding against the walls of her pussy up into the abyss and then pulling his fingers out again. Every time he re-entered fiercer, driving his hand upward, fingers so deep she felt her cervix retract. He moved at a feverish speed, staying just inside her, both fingers stretch out slightly applying pressure against her walls. Repetitive short and fast, each ensemble of thrusts were followed by a hard jolt up into her spot. Five, eight, twenty thrusts at a time it didn't matter. Every finger fucking spree led her closer to climax.

She could feel the weakness building in her knees and her nipples tingling in excitement. Even faster now, he drove his fingers up harder into her pussy, ramming them in and out. Her legs began to quiver involuntarily and he knew she was close. He shot his tongue up the path to her now hard clit and flicked it in the same quick motion as his hands moved. He continued to push harder and faster than ever before. His fingers were soaking in her juices. Applying pressure against her clit, he pulled his lips back in a sucking motion and completely devoured her, throwing her into a fit of ecstasy. Her head rolled back as she let out a wild cry and thrust her hips forward. Her pussy involuntarily pulsated around his fingers as her warm cum seeped out. He pulled his mouth back off her then and her body shook out of control.

"Grand slam,"

he thought to himself.

She stood facing the wall, breath still laboured from her intense orgasm. He pulled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and gingerly kissed her shoulder while securing her supple breasts back into her dress. She turned around to those piercing blue eyes again, lifting her hands to his soft curls and running her fingers through his hair. He surveyed her body, ran a hand to her chest and then straightened the straps of her dress. She leaned forward and kissed him softly; her taste still on his lips. She pulled his body in a close embrace, running her fingers along his back and shoulders. He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her passionately; slow at first and then more intensely. She caressed his entire body as he kissed her madly. Her hands ran up his arms and toned triceps, over his chest, pushing downwards to his abdomen and rounding again to his back. She did this slow first and then, as one tongue ran deeper into the other she quickened her pace and grabbed his strong arms. Reaching for his nipple she swirled around the raised flesh and squeezed ever so lightly. Her hands were wild, all over his body, reaching up and lightly pulling on his hair. She landed both hands firmly on his ass, hammering his hips against hers. He groaned as his jeans rubbed against her pelvis, still waiting for his release. She lifted up, turned them both around again and pinned him to the wall.

"I love the way you eat my pussy," she whispered in his ear, "and how I taste on your lips after you make me cum like that."

"I've been fantasizing about that pussy of yours for weeks," he replied, barely audible behind his heavy breathing.

"Mmmm, and I've been dreaming about wrapping my tongue around that big fucking cock of yours."

Her hand reached out then to his stomach, forcibly moving down over his belt and onto the bulge in his pants. She trickled her fingers along the fabric of his jeans as if she were teasing him with a feather. And then without warning, she gently squeezed upwards, releasing moments later with the palm of her hand pushing downwards. She did this several times, inadvertently pulling his scrotum up and then dropping with it's own weight. Whatever she was doing, it felt incredible. Still kissing him, she reached down with both hands and blindly unbuckled his belt. With one finger under the fly, button by button, she undid his pants. And with each button her hands inched closer. She ran her hands along the sides of his rib cage, down around to the base of his spine and tucked them under the elastic of his briefs. Her hands rimmed around the front and, with her thumbs in place, pulled his underwear and pants down in one sweeping motion. He smirked, she smiled, and then stepping on his pants for balance, she gave him space to lift each leg out of his bottoms and kick them out of the way.

She placed her hand around the shaft of his cock, hugging it with her fist. Gently, she pushed the foreskin up to cover the head of his penis before pulling back down ever so lightly. She did this several times, each pull the head peeking out from it's shield and then ducking back under. He felt her hand release and instinctively looked down, only to see her running her hand down over her own pussy; rubbing herself for a moment and pushing two fingers inside her hole before retracting. He wondered what she was doing and then... he tilted his head back and grunted... A warm feeling took over him. She smothered his dick with her own juices, lubricating the shaft completely and with the palm of her hand, applied wet, sensual pleasure to the crown that poked out from the skin. Two fingers encircled the shaft again, moving up to the base of the head and then in a slow twisted motion pushing down against his body again: Up to the crown, down the shaft to the base. Unhurriedly she repeated this movement, deliberately dragging it out for his ultimate pleasure. Twisting up, down, up and back down again. She moved stealthily to her knees, never once removing her hand from its place. He hadn't even noticed she was down there until he felt her hand on his stomach. She looked up at him a lustrous stare and then, as he watched, she slowly ran the tip of her tongue along the underside of his cock. When she reached the top again she glanced up and flashed a coy look.