Wilmington Woman's Club

Chapter 48

Conrad's Chance Meeting

Conrad was walking through the lobby of the Blockade Runner in Wrightsville Beach after making a call to Vic in New Jersey to get the weeks take when he heard her voice.

"Fuck you, Leon. Fucking, fuck you. Why did I? You should be asking yourself that question, you bastard!"

Conrad turned and saw her. She was sitting in a leather chair; her head was down, cell phone up to her mouth.

"Yeah, yeah, and what did you do to my charge card? Don't act stupid! I know what you did. Ran it up on that whore, that's what you did. You expect me to stand for that shit?"

She paused, listened to his reply.

"You're unreal. You expect me to come back after that shit? Get out of my life and stay out," she roared and disconnected the cell.

"Fucking freak," she said to herself, but still loud enough for anyone nearby to hear.

She stood up, and Conrad got his first clear view. Faded blue jeans, fitted and low rise, a green and white sleeveless T-shirt cut right below her breasts. Red letters across her breasts read

I used to be a virgin, now I'm always on the verge.

She wore a light gloss on full lips that reminded him of Kim Basinger. She stood there arms folded beneath her breasts, and started to shake.

Conrad moved closer and asked, "You okay?"

It's a bad time to speak to her. Her eyes carry pain and dried tears. She looked at him but didn't answer. It occurs to Conrad that she's tall, tan and lithe; his type woman.

"No," she says, "I'm not okay."

When her mouth opens he saw her tongue ring. Tattoos decorate her skin: Chinese symbols on each shoulder; a blazing sun on her belly, a shiny navel ring in its center.

He asked, "Anything I can do?"

"You want to kill someone for me?"

Conrad tensed up.

Did she know him from Jersey?

Then she smiled at him. "Kidding, just kidding. Although he needs killing," she added with a grimace.

"Um, no, I think not, killing's not my specialty," he managed to say, and then stopped talking.

"Know anyone does?"

"I think it's best to change the subject," he answered quietly.

A quizzical expression appeared on her attractive face. "You ever ask yourself; where in the hell did I meet this person? I mean, where the fuck did they come from? Like, this loser is my fiancé? I hate my life. Damn it all, I hate my life and what I've become."

"C'mon," Conrad said placatingly, "it can't be that bad."

"How the fuck would you know? She snarled.

This broad's a wacko,

he told himself,

it's time for me to walk away

. But he remained in place, staring at those full lips, those ripe lips that curved up in her anger. He imagined kissing her, imagined their lips on fire.

To my surprise, she turned and walked away from me. Startled I call after her. "What do you feel when you feel that way?"

She stopped and looked back at me. We stand still, regarding each other.

I struggle to keep my eyes off the letters on her T-shirt. She knows this and smiles, confident of her power as a woman. "I was supposed to get married next week."

"What happened," I asked, knowing the answer from the phone conversation I'd heard part of.

"Well, when you see your man fucking somebody else . . ."

"Are you married?"

He shrugged then said, "No, still single."

"Really?" she replied with a light coat of sarcasm.

"We men always want what we can't have."

"Ain't that the truth?"

He nodded.

"So . . . where's the girlfriend?"

"There is none at the moment."

She almost smiles. "You're a liar."

"I haven't lied to you. I have women friends. I don't have a steady girlfriend."

"You're actually here at the Blockade Runner on business?"

He grinned at her. "I'd say yes, but you wouldn't believe me."

"You just fucked her, and now you're headed home."

"You think?"

She laughed at him, "Too bad. In my mood, as cute as you are, I might've done something bold."

He gave her his best grin then her cell phone rang.

She gave him an innocent smile and answered the call. "I told you to fuck off . . . none of your business where I am. You know what? Fuck you. No, fuck you and your bitch, motherfucker!"

Slamming the cell closed, she met my eyes and smiled again. "I'm over it, really, I am over the son of a bitch."

They stared at one another until she broke it off. "The ladies room," she said, "follow me." She turned and walked directly into the Woman's Room. Conrad waited ten seconds, looked carefully around, then followed. Once inside he found her waiting for him.

"We're alone," she husked. "Take the last booth!"

She shoved him in that direction and he hurried in with her right on his heels. He kissed her and felt the piercing in her tongue rubbing against his. He couldn't recall meeting a woman this hot this early in a relationship.

When they came up for air she gasped, "I need for you to kiss me again."

"Do you, now?"

"Don't fuck around with me," she snarled. "I'm a bitch in heat!"

He laughed and kissed her again, they were grinding their loins into one another when it ended.

"Umm, nice kiss," he said.

"Yeah, you certainly can kiss, had my clit doing the mambo for a time there.'

"That good, eh?"

"Don't get too over confident, darling."

"Shit, you had me at hello," he said and they laughed.

"How safe is it in here?" he asked.

"Who knows?" she said carelessly.

"Wouldn't do to get arrested, would it?"

"Mmmm, so what will it be, my room or yours?"

"Yours," he replied.

"The wife in your room?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "I don't have a room."

She nodded, and said, "Room eight-sixty-five, got it?"

"Eight-sixty-five. Ten minutes?"

"Make it five, I'm not wearing all that much," she laughed.

He kissed her again. When it ended she giggled and said, "Going to show you another piercing."

"And where might that be?" he asked with a leer.

"Guess, lover."

"Did that hurt?"

"Mmmm, but it was worth it. Every time I cross my legs I get closer to heaven."

*****************

She opened the door to the Woman's Room and signaled him that it was clear. Conrad stepped out into an empty corridor, went directly to the elevator and waited for her to join him. He allowed her to get on the next elevator but did not join her. He took the following one. Five minutes, hell. He couldn't wait. On reaching the 8th floor he turned the wrong way and was half-way down the corridor before realizing his mistake.

He raised his hand to knock, glanced both ways down the corridor — not a soul to be seen. He knocked twice and the door opened. She wore heels, a smile, and a pair of men's shorts and nothing else. She had added some scent, a perfume he remembered from some one-night-stand a few years earlier. He looked up and down her body and was momentarily distracted by the glistening belly rings, and then she was in his arms and they were kissing again.

He would remember palming her breasts with both hands as we kissed. He would remember her hand sliding along his hardened shaft and moaning into his mouth.

"Close the door," she said coming up for air. He kicked it shut, picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.

After depositing her on the king-size bed, she blinked her eyes at him and asked seriously, "Do you have sex a lot?"

"Not really," he responded truthfully. "But then I'm almost always horny."

"You know why married people stop having sex?"

"I have this feeling you're going to tell me," he said with a broad smile.

"Marriage legalizes sex. Anything legal becomes banal."

He stared at her. "Banal?" he muttered, he'd never heard the word before.

Her face was unreadable. Then she shrugged and said, "Banal, as in lacking originality."

"Oh, like tiring of the same old, same old?"

"Exactly. The first thing to go is the kissing. Even during sex, the kissing grows less and less. Soon it's just the sex. She might suck your dick. You might eat her out. But there's no kissing. Sex with no kissing, next you're both looking for someone to kiss."

"Well, I love kissing."

She smiled at him and said, "The way you move that tongue, you love more than kissing."

He stood before her fully clothed. She took off her men's shorts, leaving her wearing only her heels then she moved into him, showed him the pinkness of her tongue and tongue ring. Conrad was transfixed as that pinkness moved across her bottom lip, licking away her private thoughts.

She took his fingers into her mouth one at a time; the oral stimulation was exquisite in its erotic intensity. She licked his palm and he began to moan. She sucked, sucked until he couldn't stand it and pulled away. Her hand grazed his face and he covered her moth with his, kissing her with voraciousness he didn't know he had in him.

His fingers crept downward, found her wet cunt and she jerked away from him. He pulled her back and they continued to play that game until his explosion loomed.

"Come fuck me," she moaned huskily.

Conrad stood transfixed, wanting to move. Wanting to put his searing member between her legs, but unable to move.

"Fuck me or leave," she said fiercely, "it's your choice."

She backed away, sat on the bed, fell backward and spread her legs apart. She was clean shaven, with smallish folds, a five-star delicacy with perfect presentation.

Seven long seconds passed. She started to get up and that galvanized him into action. "Turn over," he gasped.

She laughed lewdly and did so, ass in the air, her face turned toward him, watching as he started to strip.

His eyes never left her. Not when kicking his slacks off. Not when pulling off his loafers. And as he peeled off his second sock he growled, "On your knees, bitch."

Using one hand, he parted her flanks exposing her shaven pussy and shoved his erection into her. They moaned in unison. She whimpered softly when he pulled out and didn't reenter her immediately. "Back! Put it back," she pleaded.

He jabbed his shaft back into her and felt her convulse around him. She cursed, then sang out, "Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!"

Her back arched, her ass rose up and her hands grabbed handfuls of sheet. She moaned and turned her head to glance back at Conrad as her and moved to her center to massage the ring on her clit.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she grunted.

"What's wrong?" Conrad asked.

"You kiss like a soap star . . . fuck like a porn star."

"That good, huh?"

"Un-fucking-believable."

"Let's try something different," he said breathing heavily from all the exertion. Taking her legs, he draped them on his shoulders and told her to wrap them around his neck and hold on.

"Oooo," she cooed, "gonna get some serious fucking from you now, huh?"

"Yeah, baby, some serious fucking coming right up," he replied, then laughed at the absurdity of it all.

"Like my pussy?" she asks.

"Love your pussy, baby."

"You're hurting me so damn good."

"Here we go, baby!" and he went into his fastest mode of fucking. Two thrusts later he started to hear the air whooshing from her lungs as he hit bottom. With the next thrust, her legs dropped from his shoulders forcing him to grab her ass and pull her tight against him.

She was riding a major climax, issuing forth a litany of curses aimed at getting him to fuck her even harder than he was.

Unable to oblige her demands, Conrad stopped and took a deep breath. Her cursing ended and a "Please don't stop," chant took its place.

"Gonna make you come, baby," he grunted with the exertion of it all.

"Gonna make you come hard."

"Harder, fuck me harder!"

"I don't want to hurt you!"

"I want you to hut me!"

"Why?"

"Harder, fucker me harder . . . please?"

She pulled her knees to her chest; put her feet on his shoulders and he sank even deeper into her swampy morass. He tried to please her, exerting himself beyond any previous best and found himself slipping around on her sweat slickened body.

Knowing he only had a couple more thrusts left in him, Conrad croaked out, "Cum for me!"

And plowed into her three more times before his ejaculate spewed forth. She shuddered and weakly moaned, "Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit!"

Her eyes were shut, and she bit her lips until the upper lip began to bleed.

"Don't stop . . . don't stop . . . don't stop!"

But he stopped. His heart pained him from the effort. He is still hard, but he is finished.

Grunting with a sated satisfaction, she rose up on an elbow. He looked at her; her hair was wildly unkempt, and she wore an odd expression.

"You fucker . . . you fucker," she mumbled as she rolled off the bed and stood on wobbly legs.

"Wait!" he croaked sensing trouble. She didn't hear him, or she chose to ignore him and took three shaky steps and ran into a wall then staggered into the bathroom. He was up and at her side fairly quickly, reaching her as she peeled off a goodly amount of toilet paper and wiped between her legs.

"Christ, you left some load in me," she giggled happily and reached for a towel and wiped his cock until satisfied it was thoroughly cleansed. She took his hand and they made their way back to the bedroom

"What now?" he asked as they settled back on the bed.

She smiles, and he watched as it widened; a vixen in control. "You fucked me very well. Wonderfully well. Terrifically well, need I say more?"

I returned her smile. "It was nice."

"No, it was damn near incredible. The way you fucked me . . . the way you moved inside me . . . I bet you would have made me come if I were in a coma."

"Maybe I should ask for a couple referrals, you think?"

She laughed at that and said, "You have the perfect dick. Nice girth. And long. Then you also know how to use it."

"Thank you for the compliment."

"I wanted you from the first. But it was a shock to my system to have that big dick inside of me. Did you feel how wet I was? I mean, I came right off the bat. I never come that fast."

She paused and took a deep breath, caught her fingers in a knot in her hair and grimaced in pain. Then glanced down and saw that I was rising again and smiled.

"Can I ride you this time?" she asked.

Conrad nodded in approval and she mounted him, and after placing him inside her, moved up and down. She swallowed, shook her head and growled, "God, you're hitting the spot already. Jesus, how you fill me up!"

"You're soooo fucking wet . . . ."

"Don't come! Please, not yet." She panted and began moving more briskly.

Conrad was far from that point, but was still feeling the pain from all the exertion of his first foray into her swampy pussy and was pumping steadily, but slowly. He bit one of her nipples and felt her shudder with delight.

Moments later she kissed him, and he sucked on her tongue ring, making her moan and tremble and causing her hips to churn against him.

They were both relatively quiet for a minute or two then she gurgled, "It's one long fantastic come, baby. How do you manage to do it?"

He didn't answer her, but took both her breasts and squeezed them.

"Oh, that's it! Squeeze 'em, squeeze my nips . . . yes, yes, yes . . . ohhh, I'm gonna . . . ."

He slowed, almost stopping when her legs tensed; he saw her closed eyes tighten, and then the spasmodic jerking began as she wound her way through the gates of nirvana.

A minute or so later she was almost breathing normally. "Did you?"

He didn't answer her, except to slap her ass twice and groan.

"Then don't."

He managed to catch some air in his lungs and said, "Don't?"

"No, not yet; I have to ride you some more."

He couldn't imagine where she got the energy from, but she began to move again, slapping her flesh against his, rising and falling upon his bone-hard shaft.

When she felt his sperm cascading against her vaginal walls she came and whinnied like a horse before toppling from him and onto the dampened sheets.

They lay there tangled in the wet sheets, trying unsuccessfully to catch their respective breaths.

Conrad's leg was sticky where her pussy rested on him. His semen drained from her, adding to her wetness. Wearily he stroked her breasts and listened to her purr with satisfaction. Her hand held his cock with a never-ending longing, as if she wished it were hers to keep forever.

"I've never been like this with anyone."

"Never?"

"Never."

Putting her face in his lap, she whispered, "God, what have you done to me?"

Conrad didn't answer.

"You make me tingle," she said, licking his chest sweat away with her tongue.

"You make me so horny."

She took him in her mouth as if she owned him and worked him until he was solid again. He jerked and groaned, but remained flaccid.

She is not at all discouraged by it.

"What the fuck is your name?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she said. "It's Leona."

"Are you shitting me?" he gasped, "Leon and Leona?"

"Fuck Leon!" she said emphatically. "Better yet, fuck Leona!"

"Would that I could, baby," he said despondently pointing to his limp noodle.

"We got all night baby . . . don't we?"

"We do. We do. Have at it, Leona."

Robbie

"Billy told me that you grabbed some girl's ass at that party last week," Marylou said to Robbie as they came out of the Baskin Robbins.

"Maybe I'll grab yours tonight," Robbie replied, thinking how smooth he was with girls. They were both eighteen and seniors at Laney High School.

"Oh, no! I know what happened after that," she said. "You won't be grabbing my ass." What Marylou was referring to was a pimply-faced brunette Robbie had met at a party the previous Saturday night who had asked Robbie if he liked her body and when he'd told her he did, suggested that if he liked her ass so much why not grab it. Robbie had done just that to the amusement of everyone within eyeshot, and got slapped in the face for his trouble.

The thing was, afterward people recalled his fondling of the girl's derrière, but not the slap that followed and he had been all the rage at school that week. And on hearing this piece of second-hand gossip, Marylou had become jealous and decided to be a bitch about it until it occurred to her that the bimbo might actually take Robbie away from her.

Marylou was tall, almost 5'10" and big boned, with a curvy, hourglass figure, with wide hips and a generous ass, and lovely round C-cup breasts. Her hair was bleached blonde, cut in a nice pageboy, and she had dark brown eyebrows above striking dark blue eyes. Her face was round, and her pale skin was dotted with light freckles along her cheekbones. Robbie was 6'1", and at 172 pounds the star wide receiver on the Laney football team, and rumored to be in line for a scholarship at UNC the following year.

Marylou was not promiscuous, but like most teenagers knew that to keep a boy friend happy and in line, some concessions had to be made at certain intervals such as the prom or following the Home Coming Game.

"Did you get your car running right again?" she inquired, now wanting to change the subject.

"Yeah," he said unhappily. "Had to mow five yards to get the money, and there's one more left to do tomorrow."

"Poor baby," Marylou said and caressed his face while carefully watching his eyes for his reaction. Robbie blinked and she took it as a positive sign and chirped can we go for a ride?"

He smiled at her and then said, "Sure, why not?" A minute later they were rolling along toward Greenfield Park and the lush setting of its azaleas in the spring of the year.

Robbie found a parking spot away from any other cars and cut the engine, but left the radio on.

"I've got a surprise," he said, nonchalantly reaching behind the front seat and producing a six-pack of Budweiser. He opened one and handed it to Marylou then opened one for himself. They drank quietly and when the cans were finished he opened two more. For laughs, Robbie stuck a finger into his beer and then offered it to Marylou.