If you've got this far, no explanation is needed. I like to take my time to savour sex and lovemaking. Tell me what you think. Readers' comments are the lifeblood of my writing.
Chapter Four: A Proposition
Sandra wants to advance Jeff's career, but is that all?
Jeff woke next morning to the prospect of self-declared unemployment. He stood in the shower reflecting on the previous afternoon. His imagination conjured up an image of Sandra sans underwear, parading around slinkily, and teasing him. His idle moments had been filled with thoughts of Sandra, even keeping him awake in bed with fantasies about her.
As he showered an erection reared up again, a physical imperative for his attention. In his mind her eyes zoomed in on his bobbing cock with a delight that caused her to swivel her hips seductively. Her breasts swayed teasingly. They were full and heavy, but quite firm. Her nipples cried out for the attention of his tongue.
He took her rock-hard nipples into his mouth one after the other, sucking on them as she 'aahed' and sighed with pleasure. She pulled them away from his mouth and sank to her knees. Water was splashing off her head and shoulders as she took his member all the way down into her throat, and sucked on him hard. Spasms of electricity zapped through his body. He wanted to fuck her but she wouldn't release her suction grip on his shaft. He felt his sap rising until it exploded with a gushing of his seed into her willing mouth. The orgasm was powerful and prolonged. He looked down at his cock. It was gripped tightly in his hand, and he was alone in the shower.
He mused on whether she was having a similar fantasy.
He spent Sunday searching for jobs online, but his was an esoteric skill, appreciated by a select few, understood by even fewer. If the idea had any traction, it would require heavy marketing and a great deal of capital. Still, it was only the first day in his job search, and he was a born optimist. Something good would surely come along in time to harness his talents, even if it was not in his chosen field.
He wanted to call Sandra, to talk to her, or more specifically just to listen to her lovely voice. But the only number he had was likely to be answered by Frank. He went for a walk and did the best to fill his day. He had not as yet met many people in the area outside the job that he wanted to go to the pub with socially. He went to bed early before ten, in search of erotic dreams.
The phone roused him from an insubstantial pre-sleep dream.
"What? Oh, hi, its Jeff, but you know that because you're calling me."
"Come on muddlehead, get your mind into gear."
He reached for a glass of water and took a deep sip, then responded, "Who's that?"
"Alessandra. I prefer that name, and if our relationship is to start on the right footing, that is how I want to be known by you.
"Relationship? What? You're not making sense."
"And there was me thinking you had the brain of a genius. Yes, I have a proposition for you. I'm wide awake. Now get your ass over here and let me talk to you."
"You mean come to Frank's house?"
"Well, technically, it's still mine. But no, I've reserved a suite at the Maybury. I'll give you the address. Bring work clothes for tomorrow. Oh, and by the way, it's a two-room suite; connecting doors. So don't get your hopes up. Bring a drawing pad as well, just for fun."
He was wide awake now. That call had provoked a surge of adrenalin. He probably wouldn't sleep tonight now. He took the Tube to Green Park and walked through Mayfair to the hotel. It was an unseasonably mild September evening, and he was unaccountably sweating, and his heart was pumping ten to the dozen.
The Maybury is a boutique hotel, beloved of couples and those seeking pampering. It has access to an adjoining independent health club with pool, massage and other facilities, on offer to hotel guests. An internal door connects the two establishments.
The hotel reception is small but plushly decorated, and the reception staff elegant in the extreme.
Jeff gave his name to the female behind the desk. She gave him the usual once over, then did a second take. Liking what she saw and satisfied that she had gleaned all that she could, she handed him a keycard. "Top floor, the Jacqueline Susann Suite".
"The what?"
The receptionist smiled at him tolerantly. "The rooms are all named after stylish female authors. The proprietors are American. They have a high regard for the late Miss Susann."
The lift, maximum eight persons, showed the building's stylish heritage of a bygone age. It was a cage within a cage, wrapped around with a circular staircase, from which it was isolated by delicate scrollwork railings. The lift walls were glazed, to allow the lift to be air conditioned, a modern adaptation.
The Jacqueline Susann Suite was on the top floor, right the way round the back of the lift. It had elegant double doors that spoke of opulence. En route to it he passed rooms named Louisa May Alcott, Margaret Mitchell, and Diana Gabaldon. A mixed bunch, he thought.
Jeff knocked politely before opening the suite door with his card, so as not to surprise Sandra. The door led into a small lobby with three inner doors, and a spiral staircase to one side leading to an upstairs area. There was a cloak cupboard with doors in finest walnut, full-length mirrors in its doors.
He knocked on the room door to the left. Getting no reply he entered. It was a large bedroom with a window overlooking the street and modern furniture. It was unoccupied.
He then chose the right door. It was another, mirror image bedroom of the first. Again, it was empty. His mind thought, third time lucky, which was quite absurd, given that he had lucked out on choices.
The central door was to a shared bathroom. That left only the carpeted spiral staircase. He climbed it and found himself on the threshold of a large lounge with deep pile carpet and windows looking out onto the lamplit street far below. The suite proved to be on two floors with the sleeping accommodation on the lower floor. He wondered what the nightly room charge would be.
The lounge curtains were open and billowing in a gentle autumnal breeze. To the left was a kitchenette with tiled floor, separated from the lounge by a breakfast bar. He had left his footwear downstairs by the entrance to the suite. His bare feet luxuriated in the deep embrace of the plush lounge carpet. The room was furnished with a three-piece suite, coffee tables, an abundance of table lamps on occasional tables, profusions of cut flowers in tall vases, and an entertainment system with a large flat screen television in pride of place.
The lounge was empty of any person though. Where could she be?
He could eliminate the downstairs rooms, which he had checked.
Puzzled, he walked through the lounge to the kitchenette. Then he spied a fully glazed door in a corner which had been hidden from view at the top of the spiral stairs.
It was dark outside, though a faint light showed through the glazed door. He opened it. Outside the sky was lightened by the glow from the street lamps below. The door gave access to a narrow open-air alley between two high walls. He guessed that it had once been the access to the roof before the suite lounge was built on most of it. The wall on the left was the side of a taller adjoining building. The alley ended at a short high wall with the drop to the street beyond. The right wall was the outside wall of the lounge suite. Two-thirds of the way along the alley way was a wrought iron staircase that led up to whatever was now on top of the suite lounge. This suite just kept on delivering surprises.
He climbed the staircase which was painted in rust red. It ended at a small landing leading to a break in the high wall. Soft light was filtering through the opening. He stepped through the opening with bated breath. Before him was an expansive flat roof area hemmed in on three sides by walls, but open to the street below on the fourth side behind a low parapet with wrought-iron railings on top.
Shading about two thirds of the flat roof area was a timber pergola seating area, with a canvas awning on top in broad bands of blue and white stripes. A string of softly glowing lights were suspended from the top of the timber frame. They gave the seated area an intimate feel. Under the pergola were three rattan settees arranged in a 'U' shape around a low glass-topped table. The sofas were painted in fashionable grey with cream padded cushions. The open side of the 'U' faced the street far below. The area was silently overlooked by taller buildings opposite with darkened windows, probably of offices closed for the evening.
