"Hey, Gordo, I need you to do me a favor," Alexi whispered in my ear. She was hanging on my arm, looking brilliant in a teal-green gown. I was wearing the same tux as every other man there. We were at yet another party in DC, at a hotel not far from my apartment. I had forgotten what it was about - all I knew at that point was that some publisher or another was putting it on.
"That depends on what it is."
"Great. I knew I could count on you. See that distinguished gray-headed gent over there?"
"Y-es." I looked in the direction she indicated, and saw him chatting with a gorgeous, tan, blonde in a bright blue dress that barely restrained two magnificent breasts. He was steering her toward the bar with a caressing hand on her bare shoulder, and smiled in our direction. Alexi's direction, to be precise.
"Carlton James. I've been trying to get him to talk to me for weeks now about a publishing contract. I can't get past his secretary."
"Sorry, I don't know him. Why don't you just go up and talk to him? He's obviously noticed you."
"Well, it may take more than just a little talk."
"So, what do you want me to do?" I groaned. Alex has involved me in a bit of raw work from time to time, but she doesn't normally go after married men.
"I'm sure I don't care what you do, as long as you keep her from interrupting us. I've heard she's kind of the jealous type."
"How am I going to do that?"
"You'll figure it out. Wish me luck." She kissed me on the cheek and floated off in a green satin haze.
"Hey, Gordon! Isn't the band great!" a tall guy said, jolting me out of whatever little world watching Alexi walk away sometimes takes me to. I had noticed him before; he was the only man here not wearing a tux, opting instead for the "tweedy professor" look.
"Sure." They were indeed a good band; they wouldn't be playing at a Marriott in DC if they weren't. But I needed to be looking for a wife. I chatted with my new-found academic friend, who knew of me from my Loyola days, and was now looking for tips on publishing. I was scanning the room while he talked, and noticed the blonde, now holding two drinks and looking around. I excused myself and walked over, coming up alongside her. "Hi. Two fisted drinker, eh?"
She seemed to be estimating the range to throw at least one of them in my face, but then she smiled at me in an icy sort of way. "One of them is for my husband. Maybe you've seen him? Carlton James? Tall grey guy, twice my age?"
"Sorry, no idea where he is." Which was true by now; I had lost sight of them almost immediately.
"No great loss. Well, have a drink," she said, handing me a martini. Not my first choice, but one does what one must. I thanked her and started sipping.
"Whose party is this, anyway? I'm here on my friend's invite, and I didn't really pay attention to the details."
"I can tell," she smirked. "Ours, actually. Carlton is the president of James Publishing House. His grandfather started it. Would you like to go out on the balcony? I need a cigarette."
I said I'd be glad to, and we walked out through some french doors onto a balcony, past a security guard, into the early spring night. We could look out and see the capitol dome in the distance, and the Washington monument, blinking at us with red eyes.
"Sorry. My husband took off and I'm taking it out on you. I'm Charlene James. And you are?" She found a pack of cigarettes in a small clutch she was carrying.
"Gordon Wainwright. I've got a couple of books to my credit, but my friend Alexi is the big-time author you invited." She put the cigarette in her mouth and handed me a lighter. I didn't want to talk about Alex too much, especially if Charlene had reason to wonder who stole her husband later, but the fact was that there was no good reason they would have invited me.
"Pretty girl in the green dress?" she asked. Busted, in all likelihood. Jealous wives have a radar about these sorts of things, and she had probably noticed the two of us together anyway. "Light me?"
"Yep, that girl." I lit her cigarette and handed her back her lighter.
She noticed the bemused look on my face. "It's so much nicer when a man does it for you, don't you think?" she said, smiling up at me and blowing smoke just past my face. I was trying to keep my eyes up at her hairline, and not entirely succeeding, especially when she flexed her arms which were folded under her breasts. Her nipples were beginning to harden a bit in the cool air. We were both facing the rail, looking at each other.
I noticed that the balcony was empty except for the two of us. "I'm surprised there aren't others out here taking in the view."
"They can't get past the security guard. This is our own little spot for Carlton, me, and any special guests."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but everyone can see through the windows, so don't get any ideas," she laughed. "You can just barely see the White House from here."
"Where? I can't quite spot it."
"Get behind me and look where I'm pointing."
I got up behind her, the better to see the White House by following her pointing finger. I could smell the perfume in her hair, laced with Benson & Hedges. She backed up into me, and I could feel the silken shape of her hips and buttocks, and her muscular legs. Her mostly bare back nestled against my chest, which was unfortunately covered with a tux shirt and vest. "Oh sure, I can see it now," I lied. I put my arm around her front - my hand came to rest just below her sternum, and stroked the silken fabric.
"You're warm. Men always swelter in those tuxes," she said, and turned suddenly, leaving me holding a handful of first-class, all-natural breast in one hand and a martini in the other. "But your hand is a bit cold."
"I'm sorry," I said, and moved it away.
"It feels fantastic," she said, and pushed her breast back toward my hand. What the hell, I thought, and reached behind the fabric again. I pinched her nipple lightly, and she leaned back and moaned softly in my ear.
"It does feel fantastic," I said. She put her drink down on the railing and unzipped my fly. She was standing sideways to the railing with her back to the door, so she was blocking the show from other party goers. Perhaps. She reached into my briefs and caressed me, alternating between scratching lightly under my balls with her fingernails and rubbing the head of my penis. Then she encircled it with her hand and started jacking me off while she took a drag on her cigarette with her other hand. She kissed me briefly and blew smoke into my mouth.
"Second-hand smoke - said to be the most deadly kind," she laughed, and withdrew her hand, mercifully. I was going to come in my pants if she hadn't, yet I couldn't have backed away from her if my life depended on it. "Isn't the band great? Let's dance."
I said I'd like nothing better, and we straightened out our clothes. As we were walking back out, the security guard seemed to be smirking at me. The band was playing "Almost Like Being in Love," and I managed to remember enough of my ballroom dancing lessons to not embarrass myself. We danced a slow number, and she whispered those five magic words in my ear: "Let's get out of here."
"I have an apartment right around the corner."
"I can't be gone that long. I have a room on the 3rd floor."
We got in the elevator and she started kissing me passionately. I tried to return the favor, but I was worried that I was leading her straight back to her husband. And Alex. I couldn't insist on my apartment, however, or she might think I was some kind of dangerous weirdo - she was taking enough of a chance at her hotel, letting a complete stranger into her room. And I couldn't think of a good reason not to go there, short of just telling her I had changed my mind altogether. By then, I was experiencing the kind of blood loss to the brain that a man always suffers at a time like this, so I ended up going along with her and hoping for the best.
As we walked along the corridor on the 3rd floor, I could barely hear a muffled feminine laugh that I thought I recognized. "Listen, I think I should..." I began in a panic. All the blood was definitely back in my brain now. But was it too late? Charlene was already inserting the card in a door.
"What's wrong, baby?" she smiled back at me and motioned me into the hotel room. No one else was inside. She pulled me to her and we started kissing and taking off our clothes. "I can't be gone long. I hope you're ready."
"I'm more than ready. You almost made me come on the balcony."
"That would have been messy." She was down to a thong now, and my tux was lying in a heap on the floor. She was tanned all over; her breasts were just slightly lighter than the rest of her.
"You're beautiful," I said.
