The Weeend

This is dedicated to "Tex." Thank you for the "inspiration."

Thank you, as always, to Ted and Enrique for their insights as to the way sex feels from the male perspective. Thanks also to the lovely Kat for her editorial assistance.

*****

He was dead tired from traveling all day long. The drive from Texas to St. Louis was a killer, but he hated flying. It made this trip all the longer, but he didn't mind the open road. All he needed was a few bottles of water, his faded Levi jeans, and the sound of Joe Bonamassa's guitar pouring through the speakers. He appreciated the peace and quiet of his own thoughts, letting his mind wander, and forgetting about the stress of his real world back home.

Once he had arrived at the conference, the Texan checked in and settled in his room. It was a nice one, he always booked a suite when he travelled. His company could afford it. Once he had things the way he liked them, he went back downstairs and surveyed the hotel bar. There were small groups of people here and there, but mostly there were tired looking businessmen like himself sitting alone. He looked up at one of the many TV screens with no volume. "Why did bars do that?" he wondered; not for the first time. It made no sense to play five large screen TVs with no sound on any of them. Particularly the news. They didn't even have the closed captioning turned on. The endless series of interconnected pictures made no sense.

Shrugging his shoulders, he took a seat at the main bar. He liked doing this more than sitting at a table by himself. At the very least, he could chat up the bartender and tip him well for the company. He raised a finger and ordered a bourbon, neat. He was wearing a clean pair of Levi 501s and a polo shirt with his company's logo over the right upper chest. He felt like a dork, but his boss liked it when they wore the company insignia on these trips. His boss had never specifically said that he should or should not wear it in a bar. So, he figured he was in good shape, either way. At 6'2" tall with raven dark hair and nearly black eyes, he kept himself trim by running every morning before work. He hated lifting weights and rarely bothered. He had been described as "long and lanky." He supposed it fit.

He was well into his second Bourbon when a soft, breathy voice with a flattened, Midwestern accent said behind him, "Mind if I sit here? I don't want to sit at one of the tables, it will only invite someone to hit on me." Glancing over at the woman behind him, he raised an eye in frank appraisal. Yes, she would get hit on. She would get hit on no matter where she sat. A long drink of water, she must have been 5'9" tall with long red hair and the most startling blue eyes he had ever seen. She curved in all the right places in just such a way that wasn't fair to the male of the species. She was wearing tasteful black skirt and a white silk blouse. The redhead might as well have been naked, because he was sure every man here was mentally stripping her bare with every breath she took.

The man realized his was probably gaping like a teen on his first date. "Go on ahead, darlin'," he drawled. He had found over the years that women from the rest of the country couldn't resist a Texan when he said "darlin," so he didn't even stop to think or care of her modern women sensibilities.

Bingo! The woman smiled. "Let me guess ... Texas?" She grabbed the stool next to him. The bartender dashed over to take her order so quickly that the man's head spun. If he had to guess, this redhead never had to wait much for anything. She ordered a Long Island Ice tea, then looked back at him. He pointed at his glass for another Bourbon. Might as well settle in, he thought.

"Born and raised, Sugar," he replied to her earlier question. "You can't beat it out of me." The bartender returned with their drinks. Ever the gentleman, he indicated that her drink should be added to his tab. She beamed at him, lifting her glass to offer him. They both said, "Cheers," then they each sipped their drink.

Her eyes grew wide. These drinks were stronger than even a Long Island Ice Tea usually was, which was fucking strong. Making a mental note not to drink more than two, she smiled at her companion. His tall, dark, and handsome looks had drawn her over to the bar. His Texas charm was keeping her in her seat. Her high heeled pump hooked into the lower rail of the chair as she crossed her long legs. She was tall, and her heels added to her height. She felt it added to the effect caused by her long shock of startling red hair. Unlike most gingers, her hair was soft, and she twirled a lock of it around her finger.

"I'm from Michigan, originally," she informed him. "I live in Iowa, now. I feel like half the state moved here with me after the economy in Michigan went south." She took another careful sip of her drink. "I'm in bed with Big Pharma, they send me all over the place peddling their pills. What brings you to St. Louis?"

"I work in sales, too," he offered, tapping the logo on his shirt. "No big pharma for me, though. I am cuddling up to gas and oil. Texas, you know?" He polished off his third Bourbon without realizing he had drank it. He raised the empty glass to his mouth and was startled to see it was gone. The bartender was hovering nearby, no doubt because of his new, lovely acquaintance. He nodded to the bartender. "Ready for another, darlin," he asked her?

"God no," she laughed. "I'll be working on his one awhile. This bartender knows his stuff and put some actual booze in my drink." She handed it to him, offering him a taste. He blanched at the first sip. More than one of these would do him in.

"Lord, Sugar, it's a good thing you don't have to drive." He then paused, "You are staying here, aren't you?" He hoped he was still coming off as charming, rather than straying into 'creepy.'

Laughing, she teased him, "Darlin' or Sugar? I do have a name, you know."

He laughed in return, clutching his chest. "Don't tell me. I'm positive your real name is something horrendous and it would blow my entire perception of you, Sugar." He leaned closer. "I'll just call you 'Ginger.'" He grabbed a lock of her hair. "It seems to suit you, after all."

"Ginger" winked at him. "I guess I've been called worse. Go on ahead. And in return, I'll call you 'Tex.'" She sipped her drink, then clinked it against the fresh glass that had been set down in front of him. "Cheers, Tex."

Tex had never been much on voices, but hers set his pulse racing. How did she do that? How did she put such a breathy tone to her voice without it sounding phony? He guessed her to be in her late thirties, perhaps early forties, but she had the voice of a teenager. A deeply oversexed teenager at that. The whole package was sex wrapped in a ginger-colored wrapper. He suddenly had a mental image of her wearing only that long red hair and a smile. He felt himself start to harden. "So, are you?" He asked.

"Am I what," she said, giggling. The drink was going to her head. She looked at the bartender as he brought over a second drink. Had she asked for that? The bartender indicated another guy sitting at one of the tables nearby. She took the drink and raised it to him, but indicated she was staying where she was.

Observing the entire maneuver, Tex shot the dude a glare. He could find his own redhead, Tex wasn't letting this one walk away. "Are you staying here tonight," he drawled. The more he drank, the stronger the accent became. His polish, if he had any, was wearing off. "And please tell me I'm not coming off creepy by asking that question. I just want to be sure you don't have to drive anywhere."

Ginger smiled, again. God, he loved that smile. It hit him right in the cock, which was already half erect. Her perfume was delicate, but it was in his nose. Everything about her was reeling him in. For her part, Ginger was getting tipsy and more charmed by Mr. Texas by the second. "I am staying her at the hotel and I'm old enough to drink, Dad," she laughed. "Whoops, I mean Tex."

"Call me 'Daddy' if you like, Ginger." He grinned at her as he took another drink. "But if you do, I reserve the right to put you over my knee." He laughed at himself. God, he was definitely into creepy territory here, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He was now enjoying a mental image of her ass wearing his reddened handprint. He shifted a bit in his chair.

Leaning forward, Ginger tapped the gold band glinting on his left hand. "And what would Mrs. Tex say about that," she murmured. Fuck, he hadn't taken off his wedding band. Probably because he never took it off. He wasn't unfaithful to his wife for the most part. Sure, he had strayed a time or two. Okay, a lot more than a time or two. Life spent on the road made it hard on a man. He had a policy: If it didn't happen in Texas, it didn't count. "And Toto, we're not in Texas anymore," he thought.

He studied her hands, with their pale skin and long fingers. She kept her nails polished in a pale pink, something he felt looked just right on her. Anything darker would have looked garish. He noticed a worn bit of skin on her left hand. Tapping it in same way she had done, he said, "What would Mr. Ginger think," he said, thinking he had her.

Sighing, she said, "Mr. Ginger is too busy stuffing his new girlfriend to pay me much mind," she said. She took a larger sip from her Long Island. "Sad, but true story. We've been together five years and I had been talking about starting a family. I was just about to throw out my birth control pills when he kindly informed me that his mistress had anticipated me. She's pregnant and he's decided to do the honorable thing. Well, honorable to everyone but me."

"Fuck, Ginger. Pardon this asshole for making assumptions." He looked chagrined. He figured he had just blown it with her, when he hadn't even really made up his mind what he wanted. Well, that wasn't strictly true. He knew exactly what he wanted, he just hadn't made up his mind whether to go for it or not.

To her credit, Ginger merely laughed. "It's okay. We're at a hotel bar and we're both drinking while checking each other out. I just tapped on your ring, so it's obvious you went looking to see if I had one as well." She stretched, her breasts fully outlined in the white silk of her shirt. "You are checking me out, right?"

Like most men, Tex had gone stupid at the sight of her lace bra barely visible under the material of her shirt. As she ended her stretch, he almost visibly wilted. "Ummm ... Probably." He said, dumbly. "There's a lot to check out. I mean, let's start with the hair." He leaned forward and grabbed a lock again. "I've always had a weakness for redheads, then you show up with the longest, most beautiful shade of red I've ever seen. And it's so soft to the touch." He paused, twirling her hair around his fingers. "Ginger, this color of hair is designed to make a man go brainless, his thoughts only on the rest of your skin, wondering if the redness appears elsewhere on your body. It makes him what to bury his hands in it and mess it up." He considered her bright blue eyes. They looked slightly dazed and her lips were parted slightly. "It makes me want you and that's just your hair."

Her mind a complete blank, Ginger let a solid minute, maybe two, go by before she even considered replying. "I'm sure there's something smart I could say right here, but I'm not sure what that smart thing might be." She took a shaky breath. "It's been awhile since a man, any man, climbed into my head like you just did, and I've known you about thirty minutes. Is there's something extra sexy in the water down in Texas?" She inhaled slowly, then let out another shaky breath.

Tex leaned still closer, his face so close to hers, she could feel his breath on her lips. "That's just your hair," he reminded her. "There are so many other features I could comment on, but I'm sure this is a respectable establishment." He reached out to brush an imaginary crumb off her chin. "If I had chosen to talk about that stretch you just made ... well, it had an effect that a man just shouldn't discuss with a lady in a public place."

A deep blush stealing over her face, Ginger decided to play his little game. She leaned forward as well, her mouth as close as it could be to his without touching it. As someone sang over the speakers about being in love with the shape of someone's body, Ginger exhaled. Her breath spread over Tex's lips, a promise of more. "How do you feel about going upstairs, so you can elaborate more in private?" She leaned back slightly, her face tipping upward to look into his eyes. She hummed the song softly, waiting for him to make up his mind.

Tex hesitated only a moment, then nodded at the bartender. "Bill that to my room?" he said, gesturing at his tab. The bartender only smirked and Tex stood, letting his long and lanky frame unfold. He helped the Ginger stand. She was every inch a lady, but Tex longed to mess her up a little. He took her by the elbow and steered her toward the elevator. She was walking well, surprising after the strength of her drink. He punched the "up" button, then let his hand settle on her back. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the silk of her blouse. He leaned close. "I don't know what you're expecting when we get to my room, but I don't plan on leaving an inch of you unexplored when you leave it again."

Ginger shivered a little, his breath on her neck doing all sorts of things to her libido. It had been too long since the last time she had sex, and the idea of this stranger taking her to bed had her head spinning. "I hope you find everything to your liking," she murmured back. The elevator opened and as they stepped inside, she started to say something else clever, only to find herself slammed against the wall of the lift. Tex's mouth lowered to hers and she found herself being thoroughly kissed. Tex must have pressed a button to his floor, because she felt the floor lifting beneath her heels. Tex grabbed her hands and pressed them against the wall over her head, his mouth forcing her lips open. The kiss instantly went somewhere erotic, someplace Ginger couldn't remember visiting in a long, long time.

Her whimper was met with his growl. He pressed his groin against her stomach and she could feel his erection through their clothing. The elevator reached their floor and he startled her by scooping her up. A tall woman, she wasn't used to being carried by anyone, but this man lifted her as if she were nothing. He pulled his lips away from her own and looked into her dazzled eyes. "Sugar, you taste like rain. How do you do that?" He carried her down the hall, his long stride eating the yards until she found herself being dropped to her feet as he keyed the door. He opened the door and let her walk past him.

Just as in the elevator, Ginger found herself pressed against the wall again. This time, he didn't lift her arms over her head. Instead, his hands found her blouse and with a sudden jerk, he tore it open, the buttons clattering to the tile of the entrance to his room. Her full breasts were straining over the cup of her demi bra, the tops of her areolas clearly visible. Growling under his breath, Tex cupped their abundance in his large hands. Learning forward, he kissed her until her mind swam, then he lowered his mouth to the curve of her breasts, taking a nip of her delicate flesh. "All night," he swore to her. "I hope you don't plan on getting much sleep. I'm going to need all night."

Ginger looked up through her lashes at Tex, loving the way he was staring at her body. She didn't have time to feel shy. He was keeping her so off-balance with the way he was taking control. When he released her bra, the warmth of her breasts was in his hands instantly. He pinched her already-erect nipples. She let her neck fall back, the exposure of her throat causing his dick to throb. "Tex," she murmured, as he slid her skirt over her full hips. Her narrow waist caused those hips to appear even larger than they were. The woman defined the hourglass shape, something Tex loved in a woman.

Ginger was now clad only in the briefest pair of panties hardly worthy of the name, as well as her sky-high heels and a veil of red hair that cascaded over her shoulders. He buried his hands in her silken strands. "So damned soft," he growled. He gathered a fist full of it at the nape of her neck, pulling her head backward. Again, that throat, that expanse of pale skin where he could see the pulse beating in her neck. It tempted him almost as much as the rest of her did. He lowered his lips to that pulse and gave it the softest kiss, his lips a whisper on her neck. She shuddered again.

Stepping back from her, Tex led her to the bed. It was one of those huge California kings that he always booked when he traveled. He picked her up again, placing her on the center, pushing her onto her back. He swore. "Fuck, Ginger. No woman has the right to look as good at you do right now." His hands found his shirt and he shrugged out of it, tossing it aside. The rest of his clothing followed. He crawled onto the bed over her luscious curves. He removed her shoes, kissing the arch of one of her feet, then nipping her calf. Ginger could only writhe, little whimpers of need escaping her throat.

Settling next to her, Tex kissed her slowly, sensually. His cock was throbbing painfully now, but he could wait for this lovely creature to catch up to him. He pulled his lips away from her and as her eyes opened, he studied her expression. Something familiar registered in his mind, something he hadn't thought about in a long time. He cupped her chin. "You've been through a lot, Sugar. I think I have something you need. Something even more than my cock inside you."

Looking confused, Ginger sputtered, "You mean you don't want to have sex?"

Laughing, Tex kissed her sweet mouth. "Angel, you are not leaving this room without having the fuck of your life." He smiled. "But first, I'm going to give you a release." He ran his hands up and down your body. "I can feel your body just vibrating with stress and tension. You need to let all that go before you can truly enjoy what comes next." He kissed her again. "Trust me?"

Studying his face, Ginger slowly nodded. Tex tugged at her arms and she followed his unspoken commands until she was lying prone over his lap. Rubbing the curve of her full ass, Tex allowed her to relax in this new position. Then he slowly pulled down her panties until her ass was exposed. Rather than removing her panties entirely, he left them part way down her thighs. He wanted her to feel them there, feel the humiliation of it. The mind was a funny thing, it needed reminding. It needed to be kept off-balance. Familiarity was the enemy of passion. Just ask anyone who had been married for seven years.

Running his nails over her skin, just enough to cause her to shiver, he chuckled. "Angel, you know what comes next, don't you?" He gave her ass a firm swat, just to drive home his point.

Gulping, Ginger spoke up. "You're going to spank me, aren't you?" She had read the Fifty Shades books. She knew that people were into this sort of thing. Never having tried it herself, Ginger was curious as to what the fuss was about. That first smack had caused tingles to go up and down her long legs. She let out a breath. "Yeah, that's what you're going to do." Swallowing, she nodded, indicating he should continue.

Making her wait a little, Tex took his time. He would strike just when she relaxed, knowing it would feel better for both. Spanking a tense ass would hurt her more and make his hand unnecessarily tired. A few swats later, he saw her butt turn pink in the shape of his hand. He longed to sink his teeth into that mark. He promised himself he would do it later. He slid his hands between her thighs and felt her pussy. Fuck, she was wet, and the knowledge made him smack her butt even harder the next time. When she hissed, he looked at her feet. He waited until her toes were no longer pointed, then the paddling continued.