The noise from the adjacent bedroom window caught his attention. Randy had been sitting on the motel porch in front of his room, reading the newspaper, and sipping a drink. He had been on the road for several days and this was his first opportunity to catch up on the news from a national perspective. However, the moans and cries that emanated from the open window broke his concentration. Someone was getting it on and that aroused his interest. He fought back the urge to put down his paper and peek into the window.
After a few minutes the sounds subsided. Randy smiled and returned to his reading only to look up when he heard voices from around the corner of the building. The voices faded; there were the sounds of a door shutting and then of a car departing. He chuckled to himself as mental pictures of what may just have happened flashed through his mind. His stomach tightened and a nervous tickle developed in his throat. Randy coughed and took another sip of his drink. He returned to reading the paper and tried not to think of the fact that it had been months since he had been with a woman.
The sound of a cough and the rustle of a newspaper immediately caught Jasmine's attention as she pulled the cover sheet from the bed. She approached the window and delicately moved the curtains to one side. The legs of a man in jeans and boots came into view. "Funny," she said to herself, "they don't usually put people down here. I wonder..." Then she glanced into the parking lot and saw the motorcycle. "Motorcycles lower the tone of the building," she smirked to herself.
Jasmine stood on the sidewalk patio and eyed the seated figure. He wasn't her usual type. She hated motorcycles. Every time she saw one it reminded her of when she was sixteen and fell off her boyfriend's Goldwing. Nevertheless, there was something intriguing about this man. His blue jeans were clean. He wore a neat, yellow golf shirt, which hid a slight trace paunch. His white beard was neatly trimmed and he read the Financial Post. He was probably in his mid fifties. As she approached, he turned and smiled.
His smile was genuine and disarming. "Nice quiet evening, but not much of a view here," he said shyly as he pointed to the expanse of the vacant shopping mall parking lot adjacent to the motel. He did not make small talk easily.
"Yaw, its usually pretty quiet down at this end. They don't usually put anyone down here unless you're a trucker or a biker."
"Oh and I'm definitely one of those bad assed bikers," he replied with a grin and took a sip of his drink. Jasmine laughed. It was a warm deep laugh and it drew Randy's eyes up to her face. She was of medium height. Her soft oval face framed by short brunette hair. Her brown eyes flashed. "Hey, I'm having a Jack and Ginger and need a refill. Would you like to join me?"
"Never, had one, but I'm finished for the night...sure, why not," came the quick reply.
"One finger or two?"
"Don't short change me. Let's start with two," came the saucy reply.
When Randy returned with the drinks, he noticed that she had moved a patio table and another chair next to where he had been sitting and she was glancing at his newspaper. A quiet conversation began first about the weather and politics and then family, friends, and sex. Jasmine enjoyed his viewpoints and shy honesty. One drink led to another. By the third, there were no secrets only slightly slurred replies.
"You know, I'm the very best at what I do. Nobody lasts long with me. I know that even you, after your operation ..." her words stopped. Even through the alcoholic haze, she could see that her words had struck a nerve. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ..."
Randy didn't let her finish. The fact that, after his groin surgery, sex had not been the same and he had shared that detail with this total stranger over drinks in a motel parking lot patio embarrassed and angered him. His emotions came out in a storm of words. "If you're so damn good...Bet you $100 that you can't make me cum three times in 90 minutes!" he challenged.
"Honey, you make that $250," Jasmine retorted as she leaned across the table and rubbed his thigh, "and we have a bet."
The words "You're on!" were out of Randy's mouth before he could even think about it. The next few minutes were a panicked and embarrassed blur for Randy. He had never done anything like this before. Nervousness gnawed at his stomach as he roamed uncertainly about his room. He collected the money and balled it into his pants pocket, gathered up the remains of the Jack and Ginger Ale and the ice bucket, and headed to Jasmine's room.
His hands were full, so he gently kicked the bottom of the door with his foot. "Coming," came the reply. For what seemed an eternity, Randy stood exposed to the public eye at Jasmine's door. He looked anxiously over his shoulder only to spy the empty mall parking stalls behind the low poorly kept hedge that separated the motel grounds and the lot. The door had silently swung open while he stood gawking at the well-worn path that cut through the hedge from to the lot towards the motel door where he stood. "Come on in honey, don't keep a girl waiting." The words broke his trance and brought him back to the reality of the situation. He stepped timidly into the motel room.
It was a softly lit kitchenette unit with a sitting area. A fresh pastel sheet, which complimented the bedspread, covered the still made bed. There was a series of mountain and wildlife paintings on the walls. The room had a homey feel. Randy began to relax. A soft touch brushed against his elbow. "You can put those over there and perhaps you could pour us another drink. The money..."
"Ah, what?
Jasmine sensed his uneasiness. She fumbled for the right words. "The bet ... err the wager... just put it on the table by the sofa." Randy placed the crumpled bills in the ashtray on the table. As he carried the mix and liquor to the kitchenette, he noticed the large clock over the sink. It could clearly be seen from anywhere in the room. It read 8:12. Randy took a quick breath and poured the drinks. When he turned around, she was in front of him and he nervously handed her a drink. As she reached out to receive the glass, her hands brushed against his wrist. It was a steady, gentle, and reassuring touch accompanied by a warm smile. Randy looked carefully at her for the first time. She was slim woman in her forties and about six inches shorter than he was. Her pale blue blouse and jeans accented her trim figure. "Here's to the winner. Let it be a fun and rewarding experience."
Jasmine took a drink from her glass, then stepped forward and kissed Randy softly on the lips. She broke the kiss and then replaced it with a deeper one. She could feel Randy's body begin to respond and her free hand began to trace small patterns across his chest. "I need to use both hands," she said in a sultry voice as she took one last gulp from her glass and placed it on the table by the sofa. Randy quickly swallowed the remains of his glass and placed it next to hers. Jasmine's hands continued to move across his chest. When her lips nuzzled against his neck, he let out an involuntary sigh.
The perfume of Jasmine's hair filled his nostrils. Randy gently kissed her forehead and then bent forward to nibble on her ear. She responded by rubbing his back and pulling him closer. Jasmine ground her hips against his upper thighs. As she did so, Randy could feel a tingle beginning to build in his abdomen. Time seemed to stand still. Warm sensations filled Randy's mind and his next conscious thought was when he realized Jasmine's bare breasts were pushing against his naked chest. "Come on sweetie, let's have a shower." Randy's eyes followed her semi-naked form to the doorway of the bathroom. There she stopped and performed a sensual striptease silhouetted by the light of the open bathroom door. As Randy watched, he undid his belt and jeans. He was surprised to discover how aroused he was.
He collected Jasmine's blouse and his shirt from the floor, as he walked towards the door. Soon he had arranged all their clothes neatly on the kitchen chairs and table that stood near the bathroom door. When he entered the bathroom, he was amazed. In sharp contrast to his small bath, this was an expansive room with marble fixtures and a large shower with three showerheads and a bench. "If it's OK with you, we'll just use the lower shower heads so my hair doesn't get wet. Hope you like a hot shower...I do," said Jasmine as she adjusted the water. Her soft voice now came from a cloud of steam and spray that swept out the open shower door. She invited him inside.