(Copyright 2003. All rights reserved).
All events and characters are fictitious.
Part 9.
Paul.
It was thirty minutes and another beer before I could get away from Harve and Howie. I had to tell them twice all I knew of the history of Roddrego's family and that of the mine. They told me that the situation was deteriorating in the south of the country. The government had assured the world that everything was under control and that it was just some minor unrest. I hadn't even thought to look in the papers or watch the news on the TV that morning. Not that Heather had given me much time to in any case.
I entered my room and checked on the briefcase inside my suitcase. I was beginning to think it was much more important than I was led to believe. I realised I didn't know which room they had put Heather in and I didn't think it wise to ask when I parted from Harve and Howie in the foyer.
I picked up the telephone and was connected to room service. I gave Heather's name and asked to be connected to her.
"Hello." Her voice came clear and bright on the other end of the line.
"Hello." I replied. "Where are you?"
"All alone in this hotel room."
"I know." I hoped she wasn't going to get awkward. "It's just that they are friends and Howie's wife is an old friend of Jenny's and they are bound to tell her if we are seen together."
"That Howie didn't seem very married in the lift."
"Why?" I didn't want for us to have to fend off Howie as well. "What did he do?"
"He had his hand on my backside as soon as the doors closed. I'm grateful there was an attendant in the lift."
"Which room are you in?" I asked.
"Five-eleven." She replied. "You?"
"Five-fourteen. Just down the corridor."
"Are you coming here or should I come to you?"
I paused.
"Best I come to you, I think." She continued. "Just in case Howie comes back. He hinted he might. We must make plans for tonight. Where are you going to take me?"
"Ah." I paused again.
"Come on. Out with it."
"I have to have dinner with Harve and his wife, Martha. She's Howie's wife's, Carole's mother."
"They did well for themselves. Getting both generations."
I'd never thought of it like that.
"I'm on my way. Be there in ten seconds."
She put the phone down.
I looked around. I felt I needed somewhere to hide.
There was a tap on the door. She was quick. I opened it as the lift doors at the end of the corridor opened. Tall with blonde hair. That was all that registered then the door was closed and Heather's lips were against mine.
She pushed her pubic mound hard against my prick and balls as her tongue forced its way between my lips. I could feel myself becoming hard. She moved against me. I became harder. I placed my hand upon her breast through her blouse and bra and squeezed it gently. My other hand I placed against her ass cheek as she moved her hips from side to side.
There was a tap on the door.
I pulled my head back and took a deep breath.
"Yes." I called, trying to hold Heather still by placing my other hand on her unoccupied ass cheek. "Who is it?"
"Louise." Came the reply.
"Who?" Heather whispered.
"Howie's sister." I whispered back. "Quick hide."
"What!"
"In here." I urged, holding open the closet door. "Quickly."
"You had better be very nice to me later." She said, then pecked me on the cheek and stepped inside.
I closed the door behind her and opened the door to Louise.
I'd almost forgotten what a classy bird she was.
"Hello Paul." She said moving very close to me, close enough for her pubic mound to contact my still hard prick and gave me a kiss on the lips.
"Hmm." She murmured pulling away from me with a smile on her face.
"Hello." I said, trying to face her with my back towards her to hide the state of my prick.
"I had just dropped in to see Pa and Martha and Howie said I would find you here."
"Please sit down." I said indicating the nearest bed and sat on it myself, crossing my legs.
She sat down beside me. She could make even doing that a class act in itself.
Her dress rode up to mid thigh. She pulled at the hem then released it.
"Why isn't Jenny with you?" Her nostrils twitched.
Could a woman pick up the scent of another?
"She had to stay in England to finish her exams."
"When does she become a teacher?"
"Next summer."
Her nostrils twitched again. I could smell Heather's perfume. Taste her lipstick on my lips. Mixed with Louise's.
"I am coming to dinner tonight."
"Great."
"There will be a lot there."
"Why?"
"The board meeting tomorrow."
She opened her slender handbag and took out a tiny piece of cloth. She licked a corner and dabbed at the side of my mouth.
I looked at her face. The carefully sculptured hair that hid the marks on her face from the fire in the Rogers' farm. She replaced the handkerchief in her bag and looked straight into my eyes. Then she looked down at my hands. Taking one she turned it over and looked at the faint white lines, the scars from when I had used them to beat out the flames in her hair before carrying her naked body from the house.
"They are much better."
"They are fine." I assured her.
She reached out and ran a fingertip along the thin line above my eyebrow where a piece of glass had cut it once.
She turned my hand over and examined the scars left by the panther on my wrist and forearm.
"So many marks."
There were others beneath my clothes. But then she carried her own. On her side from a bullet just after the wedding of Howie and Carole. On her breasts from old man Rogers' knife. And in her mind from his rape.
It had been nearly eighteen months before she would talk again and only then after I had made her cum with my mouth in Jamaica.
"What are you working on at the moment?" I asked.
She had been an up and coming investigative reporter on a New York paper before coming to England that time. I hadn't seen her very much during our visit in the summer to Harve's New England farm. She had told us she had her own apartment in New York and was working again for the newspaper.
"I'm writing articles about this revolution in South America." She said, taking a strand of my hair and tucking it away behind my ear.
"I'm going there."
Her eyes widened suddenly.
"What on earth for?"
I told her the story about the mine and my grandfather and Roddrego.
"A Ruby mine." She repeated. "Quite a few Rubies have been coming onto the market over the past few years."
She stopped.
"When are you going?"
"We, I mean I fly down to Miami tomorrow and then down to the Capitol on Tuesday. We should be back in Miami on Thursday."
"I don't think you should go."
"I have to. What about my Grandfather? There is a flight from their tomorrow, I think. Otherwise the next flight out is on Thursday."