::  My Gigolo  ::

The bar is kinda classy. I think. I haven’t hung out in a bar for a long time. Not since before I met Buddy. Buddy and I were great together. Perfect. Oh, not without our fights and not without our sorrow. Losing Baby Sarah hurt a lot. In fact I didn’t think anything could hurt worse.

I was wrong.

He died almost a year ago. Stupid damn traffic accident - stupid damn drunk driver. I’m a damn statistic.

I’m a lot of things. I’m little AJ’s mom. That’s the best. I’m still my folks’ little girl and after all these years that’s finally become comforting. And I have a job that they really need me at. There are times when I suspect that the entire Judge Advocate General’s Corp will collapse if I don’t find that one piece of paper that Admiral Chegwidden needs.

But mostly I’m just numb.

Oh, most people would tell you that I’ve adjusted really well. Though this past week everyone’s been walking on eggshells. Hello! He’s been dead a year next week and it hurts. Sometimes as bad as it did the moment the Admiral, tears in his eyes, took me in his arms and told me. Sometimes worse, I was pretty numb then too.

I’ve worked hard to give my son a good home. Everyone at JAG has pulled through for me. Harm, the Admiral, Mikey, even Gunny and Tiner have made a point to come over and spend time with my son. Carolyn Imes and Sarah MacKenzie have gone out of their way to spend time with me. Ease me out for a night now and then after work. Usually Harm or Mikey will stay with little AJ when I do go out. But still. I mean, I appreciate the fact that they are there for me. But sometimes it’s not enough and I just want the numbness to go away.

When Mom and Dad came and took little AJ for the weekend I’m sure they thought they were doing me a huge favor. It’s surprising how quickly I can get all my weekend chores done when there’s not a four year old around to distract me.

Done with every last possible chore by 1700 hours, I settled in front of the television and tried to find something on one of the 180 channels but it was too much. I needed to get out and do something for ME. Not little AJ’s mom! Not the Sims’ dutiful daughter! Not Admiral Chegwidden’s office manager! Me! Harriet Beaumont Sims! I was, and am afraid of what I will do tonight. My mouth was dry as I entered the neighborhood bar and dance club on the far northwest side of D.C. I knew better than to try this on my home turf. Try what? Hell, I know what I want. I don’t want anyone from our church or, God forbid anyone from work, to see me.

There’s little chance that Rabb or Admiral Chegwidden would come into such a place. Gunny, who would quite possibly be the most shocked of all of them, is in New Mexico this weekend. Mac? Well Mac doesn’t drink so what are the chances? I feel safe in my anonymity. I took care in the way I dressed. Nothing fancy, just a pair of slacks and a nice soft sweater that shows off my curves. I’ve lost weight this past year and it shows. The curves are more angular now and the light seems to highlight every new wrinkle. I’m thirty years old and I need this. Need to feel that someone is seeing me.

I sit at the bar and order a gin and tonic planning to sip on it. Normally I don’t drink gin, but I figured that since I dislike the taste so much, I wouldn’t be tempted to drink as much.

I knock back the first one in three gulps and signal the bartender for another one. He eyes me carefully but pours another and this one I leave alone as I survey the crowd through the mirror behind the bar. Mostly it is same crowd you’d see after work only the suits and casual Dockers or jeans have replaced ties and briefcases, Henley's and cable knit sweaters.

A very nice looking man makes eye contact with me in the mirror and comes to stand behind me. He reaches around me and shouts, "Louie, another beer and whatever the pretty lady is drinking." My glass is mostly full and I rather resent the fact that he doesn’t even say hi.

We exchange pleasantries, but there’s nothing there. Zip. I doubt seriously if he’s even thinking about scoring yet and probably not with me. I see his eyes already wandering around the room and I see the redhead before he does and know before he does that he will ask her to dance. So when he does, it comes as no surprise and less disappointment.

I’ve been sitting here nearly two hours. It’s nearly 0100 hours and I’ve danced and even laughed a little but either I’m not quite drunk enough or they aren’t what I want. Until he sits down next to me I hadn’t realized what I wanted. But now I do. I feel the electricity leap between us. I feel the danger. I look at him through the mirror and he says nothing. My glass is empty and for only the second time that evening I signal the bartender and buy my own drink. He sips either Scotch or whiskey on the rocks and considers me. I wonder what he sees and if I attract him at all.

"What’s your name?" The voice is a low rumble that sends vibrations directly to my core.

"Harriet." I cock my eyebrow at him, hopefully seductively, and wait.

"Charles, Harriet. Dance?" Only it wasn’t really a question and he didn’t wait for my answer. Taking me by the hand he leads me over to the three x three-foot dance floor in front of the not-very-good band and reaches for me. There’s nothing subtle in his movements as he grinds against me to the brass-heavy beat. But that’s okay. It feels good. Really good and I decide to go with the flow. Both his hands are holding my ass tight against him; his face is buried in my hair. I started by holding onto his biceps but it seems rather tame now and I fling them around his neck and grind right back.

The lights seem to simmer around us and it feels so good to be held again. I push all images of little AJ or even big AJ’s stern countenance from my mind. This night is for me. The music stops and he leads me back to the bar. "You want another?"

"Sure. That would be nice." I try for calm sophistication. I used to do this. It was hard but I used to hide my shyness behind a bravado that served me well. I never had to hide my shyness and reserve with Bud. He was so shy and sweet himself. Bud never knew how wild I had been before I met him. He got a glimpse at the court-martial of the doctor he blamed for causing baby Sarah’s death. But he never questioned me about the boy that had gotten me pregnant when I was just 18. He never asked me about any of the other men in my life before him.

Charles and I drank and talked of nothing really. He told me he was an aide to Senator somebody and I just told him I worked for the Navy; no lies, just nothing too deep, too personal. He is staring at me with an intensity that makes me feel wanted. Badly. I like that feeling. I look at my reflection in the mirror and know I need to freshen up. "Excuse me."

"Where are you going?" It was a sharp, hard question. I think. I’m not sure.

"The ladies room." I smile again and walk steadily, not even a hint of wobble in my step, to the room in back.

As I stand at the mirror, I study my face and see all the little worry lines there. I look really old and I carefully dab concealer over the gray circles under my eyes. The women around me, washing their hands, applying lipstick or just primping all look way younger than I do. Look way younger than I feel. I’m thirty! I shouldn’t feel this old or this numb. I don’t know how long I stand there but finally I leave the bathroom and I push my way through the crowd to the bar. Before I can sit down he jerks me back to the dance floor. "Where’d you go?" He demanded in a hoarse whisper. He bites down rather hard on my ear. It feels good and bad at the same time. I’m not drunk, but I’m having trouble standing on my feet and it takes me a moment to realize that he is practically dragging me around the floor. I struggle against him, trying to stand but now I can feel his erection pressing into my stomach. He wants me. He pinches my ass and I feel that too. It hurts and yet I see the passion in his eyes. Is this what I want? I know I should be frightened but something deep inside me needs this. "Where did you go? He’s growling now and I know I will have bruises where his fingers pinch my skin.

"The ladies room, Charles. Why? You miss me that much?" I try for a light tone but he pulls back and I see a look on his face that begins to cool the passion I’m starting to feel.

"Don’t joke with me, Harriet." The voice is low and menacing. Not in a sexy way and I am suddenly sober. Damn! He had felt so good.

"I’m not joking with you, Charles. But maybe if you can’t take teasing then I better just go. Thanks for the dance."

I turn away from him but his hand bites into my arm. The crowd is really thick now and my gasp of pain and fear isn’t even heard. My struggle isn’t noticed and he pulls me to the back of the bar. I can’t believe this is happening. I start to take a deep breath to scream loud enough to be heard over the discordant music and the noise.

A strong hand grips the wrist holding my arm. The pressure must be incredible because I can hear the yelp of pain. But, at least Charles lets me go. He throws a punch at my rescuer, but the sweater clad body steps between us. The next thing I see is Charles sitting in a chair doubled over, holding his gut.

Sweater guy turns around and I gasp in surprise. His green eyes are so terribly serious I forget what I was going to say, mumbling "thank you" before straightening my sweater. I start to leave, but he stops me. Taking me by the hand he leads me back to the bar. "Sit. Don’t move and do try to not entice anymore psychos." The words sting and finish sobering me up. I want to just get up and leave but I see him talking to two other men who nod and come and stand at the bar, one of them smiling shyly before he begins to studiously ignore me.

What the hell have I stumbled onto? Why didn’t he just tell me to go home? What the hell is he doing here? Damn. I can see Charles glaring at me but I’m no longer interested in him. I feel safe flanked by the two men. I can’t see much reflected in the mirror, but when my bodyguards stiffen and turn slightly, I can see a nondescript little man being led away by other two men. Clayton Webb is staring at me in the mirror. He approaches the bar. A nod of his head and the two men walk away. Sitting next to me he studies me carefully, before ordering, "Scotch." He sounds tired and a little mad. "What are you doing here, Lieutenant Sims?"

"I could ask you the same question, Mr. Webb?" I sniff. I want to go home. I will live with the numbness. It was probably safer that way.

"I’m here working but if you want, I can always walk you back to Mr. Phillips over there?"

"You know Charles?" I try not to look at the man but out of the corner of my eye I can see him glaring at us.

He shakes his head. "Lovely human being. I’m going to have to have a talk with the Senator about his aide, again." Sipping his drink, he eyes me over the rim of the rock glass. "Unless, of course, I interrupted something I shouldn’t have."

My shame is complete and I hate him for that. "Damn you." I hiss and turn and walk away from the bar toward the door. I can make it home. I’m sober now.

The cold is a further slap in the face but I also realize I’m in no condition to drive. I look up and down the street. Cursing, I turn to re-enter the bar to call a cab only to find he’s standing there. "Give me your keys, Harriet. I’ll drive you home."

I don’t want him to know how well I had planned my night. I don’t want to go home. I have a room at the Willard, but I don’t want to tell that to Clayton Webb.

"Give me the keys, Harriet." There was amusement in his eyes, but the firmness in his voice was not to be denied.

Just as I was digging through my purse, the door to the bar explodes outward and Charles is standing there, his features distorted and his chest heaving. I stifle the urge to laugh out loud. He looks ludicrous with his nostrils flaring. Just as his hand touches Webb’s arm, he finds himself flat on his face, Webb’s foot in his neck. "Naughty, naughty, Charlie. I am going to tell Sam for sure now." He kicks him solidly in the side.

Roughly, Webb takes my arm and drags me to the car. "Get in."

"I’m sorry." I whisper as he starts the car.

"What for?" The anger was gone and the mask is back in place.

I can’t answer and huddle in the front of my comfortable sedan. We drive down Massachusetts and I take a deep breath. "I’m not going home."

"Excuse me?" There was surprise and a little shock in those two words.

"I took a room at the Willard." I manage with some firmness of my own. I can feel the shock radiate off of him.

"Why?" He bites off as he turns on Pennsylvania. At least he isn’t going to argue with me.

"None of your business, Mr. Webb." I’m tired now and I just want to be away from him. I can live with numbness.

"So I really did interrupt something." The amusement returned, but sadness tinged his voice.

"No. You saved me from a goddamn fate worse than death. Okay? Are you happy? I’m sure you will have a great story to tell when you get back to wherever it is you get back to. But, if you don’t mind I don’t want to talk about it anymore." I can hear the anger but I fight to control the hysteria in my voice.

Pulling into the courtyard of the Willard, he turns off the ignition, opens his door and hands the keys to the valet. I don’t wait for him to open the door. He hands me a small ticket and I manage to shove it into my slacks. Taking my arm he leads me into the lobby where I fully expect him to lead me to the elevator, take me upstairs and dump me unceremoniously at my door. But he surprises me and leads me to the quiet bar off the lobby. "Fred." He greets the bartender, leads me to a small corner banquette, and then walks to the bar. After conferring with ‘Fred’ he returns to ease in next to me. "I like it here. Most people…well never mind." We sit there, the silence growing between us until the bartender brings over two steaming, whip cream-topped mugs.

"Sorry, Mr. Webb, last call." Webb takes out his wallet and pulls a ten and twenty out.

"No problem, Fred. We’ll finish these and leave."

"Thanks Mr. Webb."

I lick at the whip cream until I can sip the coffee and I’m surprised to taste the liquor. "Oh. Irish Coffee."

"I figured I owed a drink." He seems at a loss for words for a moment but then he turns to me. "So, you want to talk about it?"

I look at him and just shake my head. "No. Mr. Webb, I do not want to talk about it. I have talked about it with my parents, with the Admiral, with Harmon Rabb and with Sarah MacKenzie. You I don’t want to talk to about it."

He’s looking at me in awe, a smile tugging at the corner of lips. "You talked to AJ Chegwidden about wanting to go into a strange bar, picking up a strange man and bringing him back to the Willard?"

Webb has managed to take me by surprise, again. "Oh. I thought you meant…." Everyone wants to talk about Buddy and how much his loss means to me. They have no idea. "Well no. But, I don’t want to talk about that either." I sip on my coffee and fight not to cry or perhaps not to laugh. "So who was that guy you arrested?"

I hope I can change the subject, but he just shakes his head. He’s mulling over something but finally just sighs. "Jesus, Harriet, you’re pretty and you’re young. Why don’t you just find a nice…."

Anger floods through me. "I don’t want a nice guy, okay. I had a great guy. I don’t need a father for my child and most nights I don’t have time to deal with…"

"So you just want quick and easy sex? Damn it. Haven’t you never seen looking for Mr. Goodbar?" For some reason he’s angry too.

I rub my forehead. "Yeah you’re right. Listen, thanks for the drink but…"

"Why don’t you call an escort service?" He’s fiddling with his spoon.

"Escort service? What are you crazy? I don’t need anyone to take me…." I realize what he is suggesting. The blush suffuses my face and I bury my head in my hands. I don’t look pretty blushing.

"Hey, look I’m sorry." He sounds so embarrassed I can’t help but laugh.

"Oh God! Look at me. Do I strike you as the type? I mean I don’t even know where to find one? What does one do with…well I mean I wouldn’t have a clue." I’m laughing so hard. It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed this hard. "Why, you know of any? Any that would be willing to let me hire them?" I expect him to blush and he does but it’s a funny kind of blush. "You know of one! Why? How? Do you use it? I mean not that you’d need to but what’s it like. Is it for men and women or just men?" I’m finding this very funny and evidently he does too.

"Oh it’s only for women. Very exclusive. You have to pass a rigorous check by the owner before she will set you up with any of her uhm…stable."

"Oh! Well will you vouch for me? If you’ve been approved…I mean does this lady take referrals?" I’m joking but he’s blushing and I laugh some more. I’m really curious now. "So tell me how you found this place?" Suddenly what he said sank in. "Wait a minute. You said it was only for women. Well then how would you know about it?" I have this picture of him setting his mother up with a date when he can’t take her places. He is suddenly very quiet. I try for something silly, anything to make him laugh again. "What? You worked your way through college as a male escort for….oh my God!" I clap my hand over my mouth. "You were undercover at one." I can see the shock on his face and I know I’m right. I surprise everyone with my leaps of logic and I seldom fall on my face. I haven’t now. Well yes I have but I was having fun getting back up. I lay my hand on his arm and demand. "Tell me! Everything."

He shakes he head. "Nope. Sorry, I was sworn to secrecy. If I told you they could sue me. I signed a paper."

I know he is teasing me. I appreciate it. Laughing in a bar with Clayton Webb isn’t what I wanted but it would do. Anything is better than going upstairs to the beautifully appointed room – alone. "Well tell me this. If I were to call the agency up and ask for an ‘escort’ say for the evening, how much would they charge me?"

His eyes turn a deeper hue of green. "That’s not what you’re asking, Harriet. You want to know what you have to ask to find out how much it would cost to have a man to sleep with you, no strings attached, right?"

My mouth is suddenly dry. The game that I haven’t even realized we were playing is getting serious. I lick my lips. Can I do this? Do I want to do this? Taking a deep breath he meet his gaze. "Okay. But tell me this. Who’s in control?"

Now it’s his turn to blush. "Whoever pays sets the rules, Harriet."

The lights behind the bar dim and I see that it’s time to go. Quickly I reach into my purse and pull out my checkbook. Writing quickly, I shove the check at him before I can chicken out. I wait. I’m pleased with the results.

"Damn, Harriet." It was a ridiculously large check - more than the car payment.

"Is it enough?" I expect him to either tear the check up or hand it back to me. Really I do. So I’m shocked and a little afraid when he carefully folds the check and puts it in his jacket pocket and waits. "Well?" That squeak that has been gone from my voice for a very long time suddenly decides to return.

He holds up his hands. "Well? You pay, you make the rules."

Oh damn. He’s waiting for me to chicken out. Or is he? I don’t know what to do and I sit back. Fred is waiting patiently behind the dim bar. Taking another deep breath, I stand and push the table away. "Okay." I can do this. I want this. Lord, I need this. He stands up and takes me by the elbow. We leave the bar and head toward the elevator. I’m shaking so bad that I know he can feel it, but if he does he doesn’t say anything.

We stand next to each other, behind one other couple and I’m glad that they are there. They are going up to the penthouse so we get off before them. I lead the way down to my room and hand him the key card. Deftly he opens the door and holds it for me. As I enter I’m so close to his face that his breath seems to sear my skin.

He closes and locks the door and throws the safety bolt.

I’m at a loss. We’ve come this far and I know if I ask him to leave he will and give me the check back too. Hell, I could have written the check for \\$10,000 and it wouldn’t have made any difference. He won’t cash it. Well maybe. But if he does I know I will get a nice thank you card from some charity somewhere. What am I doing standing in this $150 dollar weekend-special-rate room at the Willard, the lights from the White House across the street flooding the room from the open curtains?

His hands are firm and warm on my shoulders, his lips almost on my neck. For a year, no man has touched me like this. "Well, Harriet?"

I turn and look up at him. "Will you kiss me?"

His lips are very soft and very gentle on mine. They feel good. This feels good. He seems to know what I want right now and he pulls me into a tender embrace and just holds me, kissing my cheek, my earlobe, and my neck. His hands play along my back and just barely graze the rise of my bottom. Oh I do want this.

"Tell me what you want, Harriet." His whisper sends chills down my spine and suddenly I push him back, gently, but back. He cocks an eyebrow at me but makes no move to take control.

"Give me a minute. I’ve never done this before." I go to stand by the bed and consider the man before me. He is good looking. Slim, but I felt his muscles under the sweater. Oh this is going to be hard. I grin at my double entendre and his eyebrow rises even further. I bite my upper lip. "Would you mind getting me a drink of water." I manage to control the squeak.

"Yes ma’am." He turns and walks into the bathroom. I sit on the bed shaking. I hear him ripping paper off the glass and I know he is taking his time to give me time. I force all thought out of my head but this and what I want. I have no idea why this man, who I really don’t know very well at all, is doing this but I’m not going to look this gift horse in the mouth. A wave of lust and desire that I have kept tramped firmly down in my grief bursts free and I decide to go for it.

One thing about my marriage was it’s sexual dependability. I knew how to make Bud happy and Bud always made me climax. We touched each other a lot but we weren’t into anything really extraordinary. We seldom gave each other oral sex simply because Bud didn’t like it much. Oh he didn’t mind me going down on him, but he always shied away from kissing me anywhere south of my nipples. Though lord he did like my breasts. I shake my head and shove the memories down. Webb comes back into the room and I notice that not only does he have the glass of water, but also he’s removed his shoes and socks. Walking over to the bar against one wall he reaches down and opens a door. Taking out several ice cubes, he drops them into the glass and brings it to me. "Thank you." I whisper. The water feels good against my parched throat. His lips feel good against my neck. "Nice."

He stops, steps back and waits. "Please take your clothes off, uhm…Clay?" Here I am about to have sex with this man who has been so aggravating to everyone I know and I have no clue what he likes to be called.

"Yes…Harriet." I’m really glad he didn’t say ma’am again. It makes me feel so old. He tosses the bomber takes on the chair beside him and then pulls the sweater over his head. His tee shirt comes with it and he’s standing there bare-chested in his slacks. A fine dusting of hair covers his breasts. No too much, but enough to play in. I want to touch him and I want him to touch me. Slowly he unzips his pants and finally steps out of them. He leaves his briefs on until I frown. A slow lazy smile appears and I gulp as his manhood is exposed. Oh my goodness. This ought to be an interesting experiment. I had no complaints with Bud’s performance. He used what he had well, but Clayton Webb is hung, very thick and long.

I lick my lips in anticipation and suddenly look up at him. "All night, right? I mean you’ll stay all night?" I blush but I’m getting into this whole gigolo thing. He steps into my personal space and runs his tongue across my lips. "I’ll last as long as you want me to Harriet. I’m not sure how, but I will." The smirk on his lips is endearing and I reach up and take both his cheeks and pull him down for a long kiss. His hands caress up and down my arms, his fingers barely touching the swell of my breasts. When I break the kiss he whispers, "You’re kind of overdressed you know."

I cock my head to once side. "Well then you better do something about that, Clay."

He reaches down and pulls my sweater over my head. "Oh, black demi-cup, very sexy." He purrs. He loosens my slacks and chuckles. "Matching panties, too." He knees down and after I step out of them he tosses them on the chair too. I start to say something else but he buries his face into the satin of my panties and nuzzles me through the fabric.

"oooooooooo" is about all I can manage. Oh yes this is going to be so good.

He sits back on his heels and looks up at me.

I gulp and reach for the water glass again. Taking a sip I stutter my request. "W-w-would you…uhm…kiss me. I mean, you know…everywhere."

"Lay down, Harriet."

I’m trembling as I try to unmake the bed. The maid had folded down the bedding but tucked it in and I’m having a hard time trying to pull it out. I don’t want to mess up the bed. His arm reaches around me, his cock bumping my thigh, and he yanks the covers down. "Lay down Harriet." I scoot to the middle of the bed and I wait. I think he is going to kiss me and he does. Just not where I expect.

He kneels before me at the foot of the bed and picks up my right foot. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he kisses the instep. He bites down softly. No one’s ever done that before and the sensation is unexpected. Slowly he makes his way up my leg, bestowing little kisses. I want more, but I let him set the pace because I know he is going to give me what I want. Reaching the back of my knee, he flicks his tongue on the pressure point there and I almost shoot off the bed. My slight panting suddenly turns ragged and his eyes sparkle. "I’ll file that way, shall I?"

I try to articulate my affirmative but it comes out as a growl more than anything else. Finally, he reaches the apex of the my thighs and I try to bring my legs together so he can remove my panties but the rat just keeps inching up my body. He kisses me through the satin, which is embarrassingly wet. But he doesn’t linger and I begin to whimper little pleas. "Clay, what…"

"Sssssh, Harriet. Relax. Enjoy." He moves up my torso, nipping as he goes, soothing the little bites with his tongue. His hands are roving everywhere but where I want them. Up my sides, almost tickling me, until his reaches my breasts. The sexily little bra and panty set had made me feel wanton when I donned them, but I didn’t know what wanton was until he began to play. Alternating between feather-light passes and rough caresses he finally worked the front closure open and began kissing and licking my breasts, but again staying way from where I wanted him.

"Clay, damn you, please!" I’m almost angry in my frustration. Foreplay never lasted long between Buddy and me. But that was always my fault. I craved his cock in me. I crave this man’s cock now. I may very well be ‘footing the bill’ as it were, but I had lost control the moment he knelt before me. His body covers my body. His lips cover my lips. His kisses are demanding yet gentle. I don’t know how, but I’m starting to feel my climax begin. Just tiny tremors but I know it will be soon. Damn, I had wanted it to last longer. He buries his lips in my neck and bits down hard throwing me over the edge and I groan as I shudder. Oh well, it had felt very nice.

I expect him to mount me now, plunge deep within me, but he kisses my lips and starts to move back down. I open my eyes and watch in wonder as he begins in earnest. Taking one nipple in his mouth he sucks and licks while the other nipple is being pinched and soothed by his hand. He stays there for a long time and I’m surprised that I’m beginning to feel the sensations track down my abdomen and settle in my womb. It’s too much. I run my hands through his hair trying to move him down. Releasing my nipples, so hard that they almost hurt, he stares into my eyes and whispers. "Let go Harriet." I know he’s not talking about his hair.

"But I did." I groan back.

He snorts politely and returns to my torture. His tongue flickers over each nipple. His teeth nip at the flesh around them. I can’t take a complete breath. There’s a lump in my throat and I begin to toss my head back and forth trying to dislodge it. "Clay." I’m panting hard now. Sweat is beginning to form on my skin and this seems to please him. He laps at it, humming. Before, my navel had been the tickle point on my body. His blowing on it should have sent me into spasms of giggles. Not now. The groan that fills the room is mine and the smile in his eyes is evil. Now as he approaches my panties, his fingers are hooked into the elastic and he pulls them down so his lips can explore me there, finally. He kneels up and pulls them off, but instead of settling my legs back to either side of him, he places them over his shoulders and descends to my sex.

Did I mention how much I like this? Buddy would do it if I outright asked him too, but a woman doesn’t like to have to ask that more than once. Dear heavens, Clayton Webb has a talented tongue. I can’t believe the way my body is reacting to his ministration. Each flick over my swollen nub sends shockwaves through my body. I’m incoherent now. Whatever happened before, was a dim memory to the here and now. When he gently bites down on my clit, my scream explodes as I come so that hard my head hurts. I’m shamelessly bucking into his face demanding more. The spasms that rack my body won’t stop, because he won’t stop. He’s still licking me, drinking my juices as they flow from me. I know why they call it ‘eating’ now. I feel like I’m being devoured and I love it. My whole body is singing this new song.

Soon his gentle caresses are calming me. Soon I can almost take in a full breath. I’m a mess. My hair is plastered to my face. My skin is splotched from the exertion and I haven’t felt this alive in over a year. He is kissing his way back up my body, but I’m can barely stand the sensations right now and he seems to know this because he doesn’t linger, doesn’t play. Settling beside me, he pulls me to him. His kiss tastes salty and I know that I’m tasting me. I don’t want to compare anymore, because there is no comparison. This is just sex. Raw sex. Wonderful, mind blowing sex and I suddenly want more. Want to do to Clay what he’s done for me.

"Lie back." I command.

Straddling his stomach I kiss him roughly. I explore his mouth, bite his lower lip and tug it. I want to hear him moan like he made me moan. I caress his hard cock with my passage as I move lower to take his nipples in my teeth to tease them. His sharp intake of breath is nice but I want more. Flicking them as he had done to me I’m surprised that his hands come to my head so soon. But he isn’t pushing me downward; he’s just caressing his fingers through my damp hair. "You’re beautiful Harriet. You feel so good. Just like that."

I sit up, his erection captured between us, just outside my opening. "I like to hear you talk." I whisper. "Tell me what to do."

"You’re doing pretty good on your own." I rock along his shaft and his eyes flutter shut. "Damn, Harriet."

"What?" I tease.

"Please." I got him to say please! His hands are still not demanding though, just running up and down my body. He doesn’t try to touch my nipples, as if knowing they are still so sensitive, but every other inch of exposed skin is fair game. He grazes along the underside of my breasts and suddenly that too becomes an erogenous zone. I almost forget that I’m the one doing the teasing here and scoot back some more, letting my lips drop to run over the fine line of hair leading me to his manhood.

"Tell me what to do." I ask roughly. Mostly because I want to hear him talk but also because I want to do this right, not just pop it in and suck him off.

He takes several shallow gulps of air, finally managing a hoarse, "Lick the head. But touch me while you do."

I gently grab his shaft and lower my mouth and flick my tongue over the head. Deciding to treat it like an ice cream cone seems like a good idea. He seems to think so too because his long low groan is followed by a growled, "Yessssssss" that seems to go on forever. "Just like that. Now lick all the way down." I get the hang of that and sit back.

Our eyes meet and I whisper, "I want to take you in my mouth, but I don’t…" I’m suddenly shy and can’t tell him I’m not ready to have him come in my mouth. But once again he seems to read my mind.

"I’ll let you know, I promise, but please." Any further request is lost in his moan as I take as much of him as I can. I suck as hard as I can and he nearly lifts off the bed, just like I had earlier, then I stop sucking and just caress his length with my hand and my tongue. "Harriet?"

"Mmmmmmmm?" I don’t want to let go and I don’t think he’s ready.

Clayton Webb, master spy and incredible lover is suddenly shy and I look up from my task and wait. He can’t seem to tell me what he wants, which brings a huge smile to my face. I realize that I am ignoring part of his anatomy and I let go of his cock and take his scrotal sac in my hand and gently squeeze and caress him there too.

"Thank you. Yes that feels soooooo good." He hasn’t started bucking into my mouth like I expected so I must be doing something right. Plus I can see that he is fisting the sheets in his hands. I release him with pop and remembering what his breath had done to me, I blow lightly on the head. "Jesus!" He swears. I take him in again and I begin to explore my limits. How much can I take? I don’t know if it is really possible to ‘deep throat’ someone but I don’t want to try tonight. I add a little something that I hope wouldn’t hurt too much. I drag my teeth up his shaft then just use my lips to take him back in. Teeth, lips, teeth, lips and that does it. "Harriet. Stop!" I sit up and start to straddle him, but he sits up before I can. He reaches out and takes his penis by the base and firmly squeezes. "There."

"What did you do?" My voice showing my shock.

"Just prolonging the pleasure." He grins at me before turning very serious. "I assume you brought protection?"

I crawl up to him and kiss him. "Yeah, in my bag. But with all we’ve done already. Isn’t it a little late?" I’m sure we’ve already trade ‘intimate bodily fluids.’ "I’m on the pill. And I haven’t been with anyone, since…" He doesn’t need to know about my severe cramps and I can’t say Bud’s name – not now. "You would have already told me if there was a problem wouldn’t you, Clay?" I’m suddenly tongue-tied.

He sighs and touches my forehead with his. "Yeah, I’m safe but you shouldn’t take my word for it."

"Why not?" I kiss him soundly and try to push him back.

Instead he holds me tight. "So how do you want to do this, mistress mine?" His tone stops me. Once again I explore the possibilities. Well why not? It may never happen again. I crawl forward to the head of the bed and fluff to pillows underneath me. Looking back at him over my shoulder I quirk an eyebrow at the stunned, but pleased grin on his face.

Kneeling behind me he rubs his hands along my back and leans forward to kiss the small of my back. Without saying a word, he positions himself and grabs my hips. Slowly he begins his invasion. I’ve given birth to two children. All the Keigle exercises in the world will never make me as tight as I was five years ago but damn he fills me, stretches me and I revel in these sensations too. "Oh dear lord, Clay." I whisper. When he is finally seated deep within me, he stills and bends forward and kisses along my back, giving me time to get used to his size. He doesn’t start until I move my ass back into his groin. Taking that as his signal, he pulls almost all the way out and I gasp as he plunges back so hard that his balls slap against me. He sets a rhythm that has me panting yet again. I can’t believe that I am going to come again. Three times in one night! I wish now that we had done this face-to-face. I want to see him lose control. He has given me so much tonight but I regret missing that. I try to twist my head to watch but it hurts too much.

Suddenly I’m pulled back to rest against his chest and his hand pulls at my chin until our lips meet. He is slamming up into me now and I meeting every thrust as best I can. I reach down and begin to caress my clit, and I feel the wonderful burning start again. His hand joins mine as he holds me tight across my breasts. His shout is as loud as my own but he releases my lips and buries his head into my shoulder. His orgasm triggers my own. Not as strong as before, but wonderful nonetheless. He’s still thrusting into me as I fall forward, his hands back on my hips. Finally he falls next to me and lies there.

"Wow." I breathe out as I collapse next to him.

"Oh yeah." He pulls me into his sweaty embrace and we hold each other, working hard to catch our breaths.

I feel completely sated and I just want to fall asleep like this, in his arms. A fear overtakes me and I look up at him. "Clay?"

"Hmmmmmm" Not a bad response, I think. Considering. "Wha’?" He mutters.

"Are you going to have to go? Tonight I mean?"

His eyes open and consider me. "I told you I’d stay." He moves a strand of hair off my face. "I’ll be here until check-out time, if you want?"

"Oh!" The possibilities loom before me.

He reaches up and kisses me again. "What kind of gigolo would leave before he’s earned his keep?"

"Not mine." I kiss him back.

I lay there until his breathing evens out. Sitting up, I ponder the enigma that is Clayton Webb and allow my mind to wander back over the night’s events. I’m still not sure what happened here. Two lonely people connecting, is the easiest explanation. I feel very safe here at this moment. I wouldn’t have with anyone else. I shudder to think what would have happened if that slug from the bar had managed to get me outside.

I’m not sure if we will ever do this again. But right now, I kinda of hope we do because I realize something. I don’t feel numb anymore.

next
An Exploration of Need

Home     ::    JAG Index     ::    e-mail