"New Year's Eve?"
The question had to have been rhetorical as it popped, unbidden, into his mind. After more than ten hours driving along mountain highways, even rhetorical questions commanded his attention.
The radio sidetracked his thought train with a weather warning. "An unexpected snow and ice storm is moving rapidly this way. If you are driving south you may expect hazardous driving within the hour. Major highways, including the interstates, south from Georgia and the Carolinas are already closed. Stay tuned to this station for..."
(Click) -- Irritated, Will snapped off the radio. "Damn weather. I'll never leave the friggin' snow and ice!"
* * *
Not ten minutes later, Will suddenly found himself driving through the advancing storm. He had almost decided to pull over and take his chances when he made out the flashing red glow of a neon sign: "MOTEL" above " VACANCY".
He guided his van into the nearly full parking lot, shut down the vehicle, gathered his meager belongings and hurled himself out into the blowing storm. His slow, determined trek through the freezing weather was rewarded as he opened the door and barely stumbled into the warmth of the motel's well-appointed lobby.
"Room for the night, Sir? Or, for the duration?" The smarmy little clerk chuckled under his breath. Paying for two nights, Will picked up the key and his bags and climbed the stairs, looking for number 215.
By the time Will had unpacked, surveyed the room and took a shower, it was only six o'clock. Dressed in a white turtle-necked sweater, gray slacks and a Navy blazer Will descended the stairs and re-entered the lobby. The smarmy clerk greeted him once more. "Oh, Mister
'Wilson.'
" Will could hear the clerk's disbelief at his name: Will Wilson. And, yes, that was his "real" name. "You'll find a New Year's Eve buffet and dance in our Pioneer Room. I'm sure you'll be able -- heh, heh -- to satisfy your appetites there."
Without acknowledgement, Will strode into the recommended room. A roaring fire, a smooth 'Fifties band and a heavily laden buffet provided warmth and amazing smells, Will filled a plate, two as a matter of fact, and settled himself at a small table in the far corner of the room, The waiter brought a complimentary carafe of red wine and poured Will a glass. For the first time since leaving Fort Wayne, Will relaxed, sipping the wine and gazing into the tire across the room. With the wine and the food and the fire--well, Will felt complete. Almost.
* * *
She was a vision--an absolute vision. Tall. Slender. Leggy. Sensuous. Desirable! Smooth white skin and jet-black hair. The whole "package" wrapped in silky red satin. She must have felt Will's eyes on her for she turned towards him, the fire at her back silhouetting her curvaceous form against her dress, and smiled. Will held his breath as she approached his table.
As she neared, Will could see she was maybe ten years older than he, probably near his mother's age when ... With an effort he shut off his maudlin thoughts and returned to the joy of watching her approach.
"Are you going to ask me to dance? Or, are you just going to look at me all night, and regret what might have happened?"
Will couldn't breathe let alone answer. "Unh. Ah. Um."
"Well, if that's your answer." Will just stared and nodded, "Okay. Then stand up and dance with me!"
Will struggled to his feet. And just stood there.
"What's the matter, Will? Don't you care for older women? Well. We don't bite. Unless you ask... We don't break, either. And I'm very attracted to fine, handsome young men. They give me life and joy and peace. C'mon, Will. Willy. Willy-Boy. Hold me. Dance with me, Will. I've waited so long for this."
He opened his arms and stepped towards her. She in turn extended her arms. As he willingly imprisoned himself in her embrace, she stroked his face with her fingertips. Dropping one arm about his neck, she fitted her body against his. Will's hands touched her waist, pulling her even closer; he felt an almost electric shock, as they swayed together in time with the band's soft music.
"That's it, Lover. Hold me tighter, Hold Margaret closer, my sweet Willy-Boy. Oh, yesss . . ."
* * *
It was one in the morning when Will took Margaret by the hand and led her to the stairs. He stood to the side, giving her the opportunity of returning to her own room, or ascending to the next floor and his room. Will glanced at the desk clerk, "I certainly hope you've no objection!"
"No, Sir. I see nothing. Enjoy your night."
Will followed the swaying hips in tight red satin as Margaret led the way. Arriving at Will's room, she didn't wait for him. Opening the door, she strode into the room. Seating herself on the couch, she leaned back and patted the cushion next to her. "Here, Will. Take off that hot coat and sit next to me." Will shed his blazer, sat next to Margaret and kicked off his shoes.
Margaret turned slightly and leaned in to kiss him. A soft, feathery kiss on his temple as she raised her hand to brush his sandy hair out of his eyes. Then, another on his cheek. More kisses traced his jaw line. Will slid an arm around her shoulders and took her lips in his.
As his tongue parted her lips seeking her tongue, he slid his free hand down her shoulder and to her breast. Through the satin, he could feel her brassiere-covered breast. As he caressed her breasts, her nipples hardened and thrust outward. Her soft moans grew louder as their tongues dueled. His questing hand slipped through the neckline of her dress, as hers slipped under his sweater, mimicking his actions. He cupped her breast through her brassiere, feeling the soft silk and lace. As her nipples responded to his touch, and her moans intensified, she toyed with his nipples drawing accompanying moans from Will.
Without breaking his kiss, Will sought, found and opened the fastener in the front of her bra. He spread the cups to either side of her smallish breasts. "As my daddy always said, 'Anything over a mouthful's wasted.'" He bent to take her nipple into his mouth. His mouth and tongue paid homage to her other breast forcing Margaret to forget everything and focus on long forgotten feelings surging through her.
"Stand up, Margaret," he ordered. As she complied, Will swept both brassiere and dress from her shoulders, to fall at her feet. Margaret kicked the discarded clothing aside and stepped back. She looked at Will through slitted eyes as she stood before him in a white satin half-slip, thigh high black stockings, and black strapped stiletto heels. "Damn, Margaret, you are absolutely gorgeous. I thought ..."
"Women didn't wear slips and stockings anymore," she finished for him. "Well, in my day, a lady always wore a slip when she dressed up. And, most of us wore stockings." She turned slowly in place as she continued, "Some of us even wore stockings with seams!"
Grasping Margaret by the hips Will pulled her closer until her satin-covered ass pressed into his crotch. He moved gently against her buttocks allowing his erect cock to caress the cleft between her rounded cheeks. Will slid his right hand from Margaret's hip to her soft belly and then down until he was able to stroke and cup her pubic mound. He pulled her body closer as his mouth trailed kisses from her ear to the junction of neck and shoulder.
"Oh, God. Willy. Sweet Willy-Boy," Margaret moaned. Briefly stopping Will pulled back, looking up to see Margaret--head thrust back, eyes closed, mouth open. Her arms hung loosely beside her body. "Damn it, Will! Don't stop now. I've waited for this for so long," as she tried to force herself back onto his cock.
